The Coach House by Florence Osmund

us.”
    “Richard.”
    He looked at her.
    “Who is she?”
    He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll tell you all about her when we get home.”
    He lit the fire while she opened a bottle of wine. A medley of Cole Porter songs played on the radio. He suggested they get out of their party clothes and into something more comfortable. Her first thought was that things were moving too fast. But on second thought she realized he had been nothing short of a gentleman so far.
    They walked to his bedroom. He pulled out a robe from the armoire and pajamas from a dresser drawer and went into the bathroom. “Let me know when you’re ready,” he said from behind the bathroom door, “so I know when it’s safe to come out.”
    She quickly undressed, her body tense while she removed her stockings, brassiere, and garter belt. She slipped into her lace-trimmed nightgown, the silky material slowly sliding over her breasts and down the front of her body. Even with the matching robe, she felt underdressed. She looked at her reflection in the mirror above the dresser and down at her breasts, wishing the room wasn’t so cold.
    “Okay, you can come out now.”
    “You look gorgeous.”
    She smiled a bashful smile and turned to go into the living room, where the flames of the fire were playfully licking the logs. The radio played softly in the background.
     
    You do something to me.
    Something that simply mystifies me.
    They exchanged gifts. His to her was a pearl necklace from Tiffany’s. She had bought him a Guardian Service ice bucket, four crystal wine glasses, and a fine bottle of wine. To add a personal touch, she tucked six mono-grammed handkerchiefs in the ice bucket.
    They nestled into each other’s arms on the sofa and watched the fire.
    “This may not be the best time to bring this up, Richard, but you said you would tell me about Carmela.”
    He breathed in, slowly exhaled, and then folded his arms loosely across his chest. “Carmela Danza is Beatrix’s niece’s half-sister or something. I dated her for a while.”
    “How long is a while?”
    “About a year.”
    “When did it end?”
    “Last June.”
    “You weren’t very cordial toward her.”
    “No, I suppose I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I broke it off with her, and she was bitter about it. She started badmouthing me to her family, trying to stir things up, and I didn’t appreciate it. It wasn’t a good break-up.”
    “Break-ups generally aren’t.”
    “You know what I mean. Anyway, I was hoping she wouldn’t be there tonight. What did she say to you?”
    “Nothing, really. She just introduced herself and then you came up.”
    “She didn’t say anything? That’s not like her. Carmela always has something to say.”
    “Hmm. She’s quite attractive.”
    “Maybe.”
    “Maybe? No, she’s definitely attractive.”
    “She has ugly feet.”
    “Richard!”
    “Let me see your feet. I may have second thoughts about you, too,” he teased.
    She kicked off a slipper and held up her foot.
    “Well, that’s a relief.” He shifted to a prone position until the curve of her back and derriere fit snugly into his body like two puzzle pieces. He stroked her arm.
    “That was some ring she was wearing.”
    “Really? I didn’t notice.” He gave her a playful squeeze. “Can we change the subject?”
    “Yes, of course.”
     
    Strange dear, but true dear,
    When I’m close to you, dear,
    The stars fill the sky,
    So in love with you am I.
    He held her close and sighed. “This feels good, doesn’t it?”
    “Mm-hm.” She pressed her body closer against his, abundantly aware of the breadth of his shoulders.
    His fingertips stroked her hair. “Being relaxed like this. By a warm fire.”
    “Mm-hm,”
     
    Even without you
    My arms fold about you,
    You know darling why,
    So in love with you am I.
    “You lying next to me,” he whispered in her ear, his words curling around her head like smoke.
    “Mmmm…” Marie closed her eyes and sighed. She felt like