Eventually we broke apart — I saw that her face was flushed, and her breathing had quickened, her breasts heaving slightly against my chest. Her eyes opened, and she looked at me almost questioningly — and I released her.Why didn't I kiss her again, using my own tongue to probe her mouth, perhaps fondle her breast? I asked myself that question again and again, but the moment had passed, and we were back to normal.And then there was when we fought, laughing, over the last slice of toast at breakfast one morning. All she had on was the housecoat she usually wore, and when she hid the toast behind her back I grabbed her, trying to reach round her, and her soft body squirmed against me. I started to tickle her, and the squirming intensified as she shrieked, and then her face was inches from mine, and suddenly we stilled, looking at each other. Why didn't I kiss her, and feel her body?She often went out in the evenings, and sometimes when she got home she'd come into my bedroom and sit on. “And I think you enjoyed it. I must let you do it again anyway as a proper thank you.” Serious expression. “We can do it even when I’m fixed to wear the big bump.” She circles a hand under her breasts then leans across and gives him a careful kiss on the mouth. It is unexpected, their first meeting of lips.He turns, pulls her towards him and returns the kiss, taking longer, looking for an excuse to use her name. “And if you hadn’t got Kate then I’d have to consider doing what our parents would have said was the correct thing, asking Myra, the expectant mother, to marry me. Then maybe we could both learn all about parenting, love and loving following all the rules of a polite society.”She laughs with him, a soft vibrant laugh. “Stuff marriage, parenting and society, Kate and I are all fixed for the baby loving part, you can be sure and certain of that.” Another laugh. “I suppose being a scientific parent, if we married, you’d insist on our four c***dren calling you ‘father’” Another.
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