“I’m sorry, darling.” Vicky sounded contrite, like a child, as her arms came snaking round him from behind. “I can’t help it if I’m jealous of you.”

“Jealous!” Hutchman gave a shaky laugh, making the shocked discovery that he was close to tears. “If you found me kissing another woman and didn’t like it, that would be jealousy. But when you build up fantasies about people you see on the box, torture yourself, and take it out on me — that’s something else.”

“I love you so much I don’t want you even to see another woman.” Vicky’s right hand slipped downward, purposefully, from his waist to his groin, and at the same instant he became aware of the pressure of her breasts in the small of his back. She rested her head between his shoulder blades. “David isn’t home from school yet.”

I’m a fool if I fall for this so easily, he told himself; but at the same time he kept thinking about the rare event of the house being empty and available for unrestrained love-making, which was what she had been suggesting. She loved him so much she didn’t want him even to look at another woman — put that way, under these circumstances, it sounded almost reasonable. With Vicky’s tight belly thrust determinedly against his buttocks, he could almost convince himself it was his own fault for inspiring such devouring passion in her. He turned and allowed himself to be kissed, planning to cheat, to give his body and withhold his mind, but as they walked back to the house he realized he had been beaten once again. After eight years of marriage, her attraction for him had increased to the point where he could not even imagine having a sexual relationship with another woman.

“It’s a hell of a handicap to be naturally monogamous,” he grumbled, setting his equipment down outside the rear door. “I get taken advantage of.”

“Poor thing.” Vicky walked into the kitchen ahead of him and began to undress as soon as he had closed the door.