44 Charles Street

It looked and felt like a honeymoon cottage as Chris unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. And Francesca looked around at all of Marya’s pretty things. It was a beautiful room with wood paneling and a fireplace. And upstairs, the guest room had a big canopied bed. They set their suitcases down, and before Francesca could even take her coat off, Chris had her on the bed and was kissing her. They were both out of breath and frantic with passion within minutes. They had waited so long for this, and they had wanted each other so much in the past weeks. They had been circumspect for Ian’s sake, but there were no constraints on them now. They were both naked within minutes and under the covers, learning each other’s bodies and fondling each other. They were both aroused, and neither of them could wait any longer. Francesca welcomed him, and Chris plunged into her, burning with desire. It was the hottest, fastest, most unbridled sex either of them had ever had. They were like two starving people who had finally found food after years on a desert island. They came at the same time, and lay breathless and panting half off the bed afterward, and they both started to laugh.

“I think I’m too old for this,” Chris said, trying to catch his breath, and she was lying on top of him, dripping with perspiration, her eyes closed, with a huge smile on her face.

“I think I died and went to heaven,” she said, as out of breath as he was. It had been worth waiting for, and they rolled over in bed and looked at each other. “Do you suppose it’s like this for Charles-Edouard and Marya?” she asked him, propped up on one elbow, admiring him, as she traced a lazy finger down his chest, and he laughed.

“I hope not. It would kill them.” He kissed her then, and she fondled him. He was totally sated, but easily aroused again. He had years to catch up on, and it had been a long time for her too. They made up for it that night. And again the next morning. Neither of them wanted to get out of bed. They just wanted to lie in each other’s arms.

Francesca went downstairs to make them coffee, and there were some rolls in the freezer that she heated up for them in the micro-wave. And then they went back to bed. There wasn’t a house around them for miles, and the view was beautiful. They finally got up and walked around the property, just so they could tell Marya they had, and then they went back to bed for the afternoon.

And they called Marya to thank her for the house and tell her how much they loved it.

“I’m so glad you do,” she said happily. “It’s very romantic, isn’t it?” She giggled like a girl, and Francesca smiled.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed.

“I never realized that until recently. I just thought it was a pretty house.”

Francesca knew that they would never forget the days they spent there. They made themselves go to a local tavern for dinner, where Marya said the food was very good, and she was right. And they took a walk in her orchards afterward by moonlight, and then they came back and sat on the porch, and huddled together and kissed. Neither of them wanted to go back to New York. They wanted to stay there forever. She envied Marya the house, and would have loved to spend weeks there with Chris instead of just a few days.

She smiled as she looked up at him, as they sat on the porch swing, swaying slowly. “You know, for two relationship-phobics, I think we’re doing pretty well. What do you think?”

“I think you’re turning me into a sex maniac. It’s all I can think of,” he confessed with a grin. “Are you putting something in my food?”

“Yeah, saltpeter. I can hardly sit down.” They both laughed. It was the perfect honeymoon weekend and just what they needed. It was the final bond to each other, and the only one they’d been missing. They had the friendship they’d built over many months, the romance that had sprung up between them since the summer, and now this, the union of their bodies to complete what they felt for each other. The circle of their love was complete.

“Would you ever want to get married, Francesca?” he asked as he held her.

“I never have before. I was afraid I’d end up like my mother, married fourteen times.”

“Be nice. Only five,” he teased her.