A Model Husband

"But, Gina, will you always blame me?"

She laughed, "Not always. Maybe for a while. But you're the one I love."

We hugged. We watched a dumb British mystery, with great scenery, though. We went upstairs and made love.

The next morning, I thought it all over. I had been worried about Gina being a slut. I revised my opinion somewhat. Because, she had never been in lust with any guy but George. George had been taken off the table. So....why leave her? If she showed signs of relapsing, or slutting around generally, I could react.

Marjorie and George arrived for dinner at 6:30pm. We all had white wine, because the main was rockfish. Asparagus, tomatoes, cooked greens with rice.

Gina had spoken to Marjorie that afternoon. When she came in, she gave me a nice, but chaste hug, and whispered, "I'll always wonder, Harmon. Always."

George had a beer, and the rest of us had the wine. We all went out back on the patio.

The atmosphere was genial, except that George kept eying Gina. Finally, I said to him, "George, I assume you and Marjorie have spoken about what will and won't happen tonight."

"Yes. Very disappointing. All on you, too."

"So true. Like Popeye says, "I yam who I yam."

He laughed. He said, "I understand. But it's too bad, I think."

Gina said, "Time to eat."

We had a nice dinner, and discussed politics. The women and I had one slant on things. George had another. But we didn't get heated or anything.

Dessert was fresh fruit. Later some cognac. As they were about to leave, Marjorie said, "I have a toast."

She held up her glass. "To a wonderful friendship going forward, fraught with unresolved sexual tension."

I laughed. We all drank to that.

SIX YEARS ON.

Each couple had become proud parents. A girl and boy for Gina and me. Two girls for them. The kids were basically the same ages. The youngest, their Ginger, was just in pre-school.

So, we socialized often. I got over my distaste for George, who was a great father to his kids. Our children called him Uncle George. Any guy who could get along with kids like he did, wasn't all bad. I guess his endowment wasn't his fault. As long as he kept it in his pants around us. Which he did.

When we did get together, on evenings without kids around, the sexual tension remained. It was always under the surface, and sometimes right there in the open.

We went dancing sometimes, and switched partners - for dancing. I don't know about them, but when we had an evening like that, Gina would nail me when we got home. Nail me hard. Her thing for George hadn't completely settled. Neither had mine for Marjorie.

But we never ended up in the wrong beds.

So far.

The end.