”What is home, if not the place where you belong? We said the same thing, and then began the frantic action, the pulling and pushing, my hands gripping her waist and she my bottom, trying to push me deeper.Afterwards she lay on me, having somehow reversed our positions so she was on top. I was still hard, still deep, and she was now moving her hips languidly, relishing our connection, keeping me hard, all the better to feel each other. There could not be a better time to ask that question.“Helen, my sweet, I’ve got a question to ask you.”“So have I,” she said.What happened next was uncanny, but summed up how closely our thoughts lay together, we spoke together:“Would you like us to get married?” Me. “I think we need to marry.” Her.She started. Lifted herself and stared into my eyes. Again we spoke together:“So do I.” Me. “Yes, I would.” Her.We looked at each other, then a smile began to grow, then a chuckle, a giggle, laughter.“What are we like?” she spluttered.“Each other!” I. All I recall is that after about fifteen minutes of screaming at one another, Lauren went into the bedroom and put on a short, tight dress and high heels and headed toward the door. As she got to the door, I do remember one particularly clever bit of repartee': She said "Fuck you!"I replied "No, Fuck you!"Then, Lauren retorted: "Maybe, but it sure as Hell won't be with you!" The door slammed in my face and I think I kept yelling at Lauren for a good ten minutes after she left. Man, I was mad.I certainly wasn't going to let her find me waiting for her dutifully in bed when she got home, so I went out into the den with a six pack of beer and watched the end of a baseball game on TV.When I awoke, there was some infomercial on the tube.I reached for another beer, but only found empties.Not being particularly interested in buying a new homeexercise contraption, I clicked off the television,leaving me in darkness except for the illumination ofmy wristwatch, which read 3:24 AM. Just as I.
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