The face that stared back was thinner, even a little gaunt. The hair was shorter, while the chest had bulked out a little, and the legs had bulked up ... lot. The eyes were more wary. To me, I looked older, and hopefully wiser.“Tea?” I asked. It was the universal social lubricant, and was the first question normally posed when a visitor came to my house, as it probably was in every other home in Britain.“Yes, thank you.”“Breakfast tea, Earl Grey, or cherry and cinnamon?”“Er ... whatever you’re. Kind of give her the once over ... to make sure everything is okay.”That had taken an hour and a half, which had involved him mostly standing by her car, and talking to her. When he was finished with the car, he had suggested coffee. She had countered with dinner. Two weeks later, she was straining under him as his penis soothed her emptiness. Two months after that, they were married.She loved him, or at least she thought she loved him. She wasn’t at all sure she knew what love felt like. He. More

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