I wake up around 8:00 am. I reach across the bed to take Sarah into my arms. I can’t feel her. I run my hand over the cold bed sheet. Where her taught body should be, opening my eyes in the dim light, as I realize that she is not there. It’s not unusual for her to rise before me. Although I usually get a hug and a kiss. I get up and sleepily, pull on some shorts and a t shirt,go to the bathroom, still half asleep and, after washing, I make my way down stairs. The k**s are sat watching TV in the living room. I ask Brendon: ‘Where’s mum?’ ‘Dunno… I thought she was still in bed with you.’ I make a pot of coffee and look about for her. There is no sign of her. I take my coffee outside to the greenhouse where I start to water some plants. The sun shines warmly through the glass roof. Whilst watering a Chili Pepper plant I notice a spider wrestling with a butterfly in a web. The butterfly flaps and wriggles. I think about freeing it but the spider takes a tight hold of it and sinks in it’s fangs. The flapping slows. The spider begins to wrap it's prize in a casket of silk. The butterfly wriggles. The spider pauses to apply another bite. The butterfly relaxes while the spider slowly encases it in thread. Sarah appears in the doorway from around the back gate. She’s in her running gear. Red faced and breathing hard. She’s all smiles. ‘Hi gay boy!’ She bounces into the greenhouse, gently pinches my cheek and wiggles it. ‘Aw is he watering his little planty wanties?’ ‘Have you been running already?’ ‘Sure have!’ She’s bouncing on her feet, flushed, red faced, grinning. ‘Surely not an eight miler again? I don’t know how you can do that at this time in the morning.’ ‘You know me Paul, I go like a rabbit! I’m like the Duracell bunny.’ I wonder if she has any idea what the expression ‘go like a rabbit’ generally refers to. I expect that she doesn’t. She often innocently uses suggestive or lewd phrases. Seemingly unaware of their meaning. ‘I woke up and you weren’t there.’ I feign melancholy disappointment, exaggerating a sad expression. She grins. ‘Yeah, well you’re not the first!’ She squeezes my cock through my shorts. ‘Poor flaccid thing…’ She pulls away, ‘I’m off to get a shower! Then I want to make the k**s some pancakes.’ She’s stepping backwards across the patio. ‘Make sure the kitchen is clear and clean!’ She turns and trots off into the house, calling over her shoulder ‘Oh and my car needs washing!’ Then louder, from inside the house, comes, ‘Anytime before tomorrow!’ I go back to my watering. I hate washing cars. I never bother washing my own. Later I spend the morning cleaning the house and washing her car. Sarah takes the k**s to the lake. It’s a lovely summer day so, after I’ve wolfed down something for lunch, I go to meet them at the lake. I know just where they will be. Our favorite spot. When I arrive there are quite a few people around. Families laughing and playing in the sun. As I approach I can pick out Sarah from long distance. Without my glasses, I’m seeing everyone out of focus, in matchstick form.But her taught athletic body stands out from the others nevertheless. Especially so with her blonde hair and in the red bikini swim wear that I bought for her. I like to get her into red. It’s a color associated with power, strength and dominance. It also supposedly makes men more amorous towards women. I expect that’s all bullshit but hey… who knows? Either way she looks amazing. Spotting me she walks to meet me. ‘Wow!’ I greet her. ‘I spotted you from a distance and I thought Jesus.. who is that! She’s stunning.’ ‘Oh so you do look at other women then?’ ‘Well… If I I did… It was you… So that doesn’t count.’ ‘Oh doesn’t it now?’ ‘As you got closer I realized… Oh… That’s my wife.’ ‘And I bet that was disappointing.’ ‘No way! You’ve got the hottest body of all the women here. I love you in this bikini. I couldn’t be more proud to be your husband.’ She lays her arms around my shoulders and sidles in close. ‘And have you washed my car?’ ‘Fuck yeah!’ Her lips are practically touching mine. ‘Inside as well?’ ‘Yes, hoovered out and polished...’ ‘Windows?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Door sills?’ ‘Yes.’ She slides her tongue into my mouth and reaches around like she is exploring it. She raises a leg and wraps it around mine. We kiss passionately. Then she pulls away. ‘Aw I was enjoying that.’ ‘Well behave yourself and if you’re lucky it might happen again one day.’ She turns and walks back towards the spot where she’s picnicked with the k**s. I follow close behind, watching her ass as she walks. I love watching her ass. The afternoon is idyllic. Beneath the backdrop of the rugged peaks against the deep blue sky we swim and play, at the edge of the lake, with the k**s. Sarah and I chat and joke about family, friends, past, and future. Sarah is excited with some plans that she has for final renovations to our now not so run down house. Sarah's friend Karen is there with her k**s. They are a similar age to ours The k**s play together in the water. Karen comes to sit with us. I end up getting sent away by Sarah so that she and Karen can do 'girl talk'. Walking back, through the wooded valley, towards home, we’ve separated out. The k**s have run on ahead. I’m close behind them. Sarah and Karen are some way behind me, chatting as they walk. Around a bend, under the shade of trees and bushes, arching over the path, I meet Steve. He's headed the other way, bare chested, in shorts and running shoes. His body is lean, taught, and tanned. A model of muscle definition. ‘Hey there! How’s it going?’ I greet him. ‘Yeah.. yeah... good. You guys been at the lake all day have you? I passed your two just earlier.’ ‘Yeah it’s been great! This weather’s amazing. The waters not even cold.’ Sarah and Karen amble around the bend. ‘I’m just off for a swim now.’ Steve says, still facing and addressing me. ‘I reckon I’ll swim down to Buttermere and then run back over Grasmoor peak…’ Sarah reaches us. On seeing Steve she lights up like a bulb seeming to suddenly grow slightly taller, literally bouncing, as she captures his attention, excitedly interrupting: ‘Oh my god! You’re so fit! Are you going wild swimming and running?’ Having turned his gaze to Sarah, Steve looks suddenly back to me, his eyes widened. It’s an odd expression. I feel like he’s checking my reaction. Perhaps looking for some indication that I’m ok with this interaction. I smile. ‘I better catch those k**s up.’ I turn and walk on alone. Leaving the three of them chatting. Well… (from what I can hear, fading as I walk further away,) mainly Sarah chatting. And laughing. My paranoia is angry at me, berating me as I limp along: ‘What the fuck are you doing? Why are you walking off and leaving them? What was that look he gave you? What was that about? Why didn’t you stay there?’ I ignore the admonishments and carry on walking. Later in the afternoon, the k**s fed, they play in the garden. Sarah and I eat, on a patio table for two, besides the wood burner. We make conversation and then fall silent for a little while enjoying the evening sunshine and the warmth of the fire while our c***dren play happily. It’s blissful. I’m just taking a swing of red wine when Sarah, gazing into the fire, says out of nowhere: 'Steve’s hilarious isn't he?’ I’m not sure what to say. I don’t know what is hilarious about him. Next she’s smiling, looking at me, like a c***d waiting for a response to something that they are not sure they ought to have said. I smile back and calmly say: ‘Yeah he’s a funny guy.’ ‘He’s literally done a triathlon today!’ I want to point out that going for a swim and then a run is only two things. Whereas a triathlon would be three. But I figure it best not to. She continues to talk. ‘What do you think he does with his shoes?’ She doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘He must put them in that little rucksack... maybe in a plastic bag… I bet he swims with that on his back...’ My paranoia quietly remarks: ‘If a girl likes a guy… then she can’t help but talk about him.’ 'He hasn't got a care in the world has he?......' I quietly listen to her talking about him. I respond sporadically with an agreement, a chuckle, or an inane question. Hopefully just enough to give the impression that I’m actually interested in the conversation. Later in the evening, near to bedtime, we are in the living room. I’m slouched on the sofa. Sarah comes over and sits down next to me. She tells me about her morning run. The furthest she has done yet she says. She wants to show me the route on her fitness tracker app. She excitedly tells me: “First we ran to Croasdale...’ Then, after glancing up at me as if looking for a sign that I’ve noticed something amiss, she continues. ‘Then from there I ran out towards Lamplugh and then off over Blake Fell...’ I try not to give any indication that I have noticed. I listen calmly, to the rest of her description, which is all ‘I’, whilst inside my mind my paranoia flys into hysterics: ‘We!…. She fucking said We! She said we ran!… clear as day she said it… Tell her! Tell her she said We. See how she reacts. Ask her who fucking We is for fucks sake!’ I give nothing away. For the rest of the evening my paranoia will not let it go: ‘What more do you need? All the messaging… the chopping and changing running times… being gone for ages and even the k**s notice… the panties going straight into the wash… that fact that you fucking told her, that people could still have affairs during lock down, by coordinating the times of their daily exercise!… And now she says We ran…. As clear as fucking day! And the look she gave you… She knew she’d said it!… She knew as soon as it slipped out...’ My paranoia rants on and on and on… Fortunately it’s near bedtime and I don’t need to interact with anyone. I’m so distracted and distant that I wouldn’t be capable of engaging. Sarah notices. As we prepare for bed she affectionately comments: ‘You’re very distant… You’re such a dreamer... Always wrapped up in your own mind with whatever goes on in there... Most usually nonsense.’ She smiles and she kisses my cheek. In bed I hold her. Spooning, I push my hard cock between her legs beneath her ass. ‘What the fuck?’ She says. ‘Have you taken Viagra?’ ‘I thought you might want to ride cock?’ ‘All I want to do right now is go to sleep!’ ‘Well I’ll just dream about you riding cock then.’ She falls silent for a while and then, just as I think she has fallen asleep, she asks: ‘Is there anyone else in these dreams of yours or is it just you?’ ‘No…. It’s but always you’. ‘Well lets go to sleep dreaming the same dream then.’ I drift into sleep feeling quite proud of my ambiguous suggestive answer. Even with my head spinning, and paranoia gnawing ferociously at me, I can’t stop trying to slyly get messages though to her inner slut. As I settle to sleep my paranoia keeps reminding me that Sarah went running before I awoke. It fixates on the thought that...If she ran with someyone else then that must be Steve. Slowly it sets my mind on fire. Two words spark the flames. ‘Triathlon’ and ‘We’. If ‘we ran’ in the morning then... by swimming and running in the afternoon... he would have (in her words) ‘..literally done a Triathlon today’. And then there is the way she lit up when she saw him. The look that he gave me. The pointless chatter about him by the wood burner.... Sleep will not come to me. I get up and I put a dressing gown on. I go and sit in the dark in the living room. Presently Sarah appears in her nightie. She kneels in front of the chair that I’m sat in and puts her hands on my thighs. ‘What’s going on?... Why are you sat out here?’ ‘I can’t sleep.’ ‘Well sitting her stewing won’t help will it?... Come on silly.’ She takes my hands in hers and stands. ‘Come on!… back to bed.’ ‘I won’t sleep. I’ll just keep you awake.’ ‘Then I’ll be awake too. At least we’ll both be in bed. Come on. You need to rest.’ She pulls me to my feet and leads me back to the bedroom. ‘Get this off.’ She takes the dressing gown from me and lays it on the floor. ‘Now get into bed… Face that way.’ I do as I’m told. She climbs into bed behind me. Spooning, she takes me into her arms. She places one arm under my shoulder and with her other she takes my hand in hers, wraps her arm around my body and holds me tightly. ‘Men are supposed to do the holding...’ I feebly mutter. (I’ve never been held like this by her before. She has tried it occasionally but I’ve always rejected it as unmanly.) ‘Shhh… I’m holding you now.... Lay still... Be quiet... Let go of whatever is going on in that mind of yours...’ Somehow, nestled in the warmth of her body and in the tight grip of her arms, there is a peace and a silence. Even my paranoia has shut the hell up. As if it has been shut out and not allowed in. ‘I love you… Sleep now… I’ll never let you go… ’ She whispers. My mind empties. I think nothing. I just feel: The lush warmth of her body; The soothing refuge of her tight embrace; The calming rhythm of her breath on the back of my neck, I fall soundly asleep. I sleep all through the night in her arms. Still with that hard cock.