She too feigns nonchalance. She’s not as good at it as I am. ‘Since when?’ she asks. It’s not a question, it’s a demand. I don’t owe her a...ything. ‘Since you decided to try and force your agenda on me.’ It’s a lame answer. I’m beating her up for something beyond her control. I have to blame someone. ‘My agenda?’ She’s mad now. Good. Maybe she’ll leave. ‘If I recall correctly, you were fine with my agenda until the lights came on.’ She’s not the only one that can go on the offensive. ‘I was. I did not feel any desire to masturbate again and the rude words that had been buzzing around my head had faded into the background. My husband arrived home in a good mood later that evening and we went to our favourite pub for dinner. That night we made love in the same way we always had, but when he was asleep I slipped into the spare room, where I sometimes slept when it was too hot to share a bed anyway, and slipped off my nightgown. I was nervous this time as my husband was in the house. I. More

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