“Don’t I know it,” she teased.I leaned over to touch her cheek, turning her lips toward mine. I traced her lower lip with my tongue until I was unable to hold myself back. I gave her a slow, long, wet, sitting-alone-on-the-couch-with-my-wife-on-a-Saturday-night kiss.When our lips parted, I retreated. V regarded my face. She ran a fingertip along my jawline, but did not otherwise speak.“Someone said the world’s a stage,” I said. “But I think the world’s an audience. Everyone’s watching. No one’s performing.”Outside, on the other side of the glass, night had fallen. The streetlights had flickered on about an hour ago. Lights were on in most of the houses, and dull shadows thrown from the glow of televisions danced on the walls and faces of our neighbors. Cars drove by at safe, reasonable speeds. Cats scampered past, bodies pressed close to the ground, chasing mice and squirrels and birds with lazy perseverance. Someone out of the frame of the window was shooting hoops, the thump and the. "It was cold in our bedrooms because we'd been out all day, lectures until six, so we'd moved our quilts in here, and we had our tea in the oven, and were just having a little bit of fun over the back of the armchair, and I was this close to getting there, and the bloody phone rang and rang! Talk about putting you off your stride! We knew it would be Mum, 'cos it kept ringing, so we moved over there like a three-legged race, and of course then she kept talking – in the end I had to fib and say I'd been in the shower, only had a towel wrapped round me and was getting cold, to get her to ring off." And did you get there eventually?" Bloody right we did, but we almost had to start from the beginning again!" It was lucky that we'd only put the oven on low!"At least phone calls during lovemaking was a problem we'd never had to deal with, having no phone installed in the Richmond Road flat.Adrian had carried back a tin of Mrs Carter's home-made mince pies in his rucksack, so we had a couple.
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