When I snuggled up to him, later in the dark, after we’d cleaned up, he stroked my hair and asked, “What was that all about?”

“What?” I knew, of course, but I wanted to hear him say it.

“You.” He cleared his throat. “Asking me to put my finger… there.”

“Did you like it?” I rubbed my thigh over his.

“Did you?”

I smiled. “Yeah. A lot.”

We were quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Me, too.” We settled together, spooned at first, and I thought he had drifted off already when he said, “A lot.”

I grinned in the darkness, putting my arm around him and kissing his shoulder.

That was the last thing I remembered before waking to find John gone from the bed. That wasn’t unusual. I used to think he got up to go to the bathroom a lot, and I would just drift back off to sleep again. Now, though, I wondered. Was he making a phone call? The thought surprised me, after we’d just had sex-really good sex, for us!

There was a phone next to our bed. He was clearly using the house phone, not the cell phone, at least according to the phone bill. We had a phone in the kitchen, one in the living room, and another in the basement office. My guess was, if he was on any phone, it would be the basement one. There was a couch down there he could lay down on.

If I picked up the receiver, would I hear him? I listened to the house, but didn’t hear anything except the usual night sounds. He wasn’t in the bathroom.

I leaned over and picked up the phone. Would he hear me if I clicked “talk”? I debated for a moment, holding my breath. Then I pressed the button. I heard his voice immediately, low and sexy. My heart leapt to my throat, and I quickly pushed the mute button, afraid they might hear me.

“How about a school girl?” he asked.