“Here I thought we’d drift into blissful slumber, cuddling each other,” I said.This made her giggle somehow.“That’s very funny,” she said,...and scraped her hand down across my chest and stomach, and in through my boxers, “I told you I came here to play.”The succeeding events that happened were of a mysterious and somewhat confusingly pleasurable quality. They were mundane really, in their physical reality. Men and women in various combinations have done similar things with each other since time. Anahit's dark eyes flicked to the kitchen door as she stirred the fish stew. I swallowed, bracing myself, my cheek still aching from my husband's last chastisement.“It's almost ready, husband,” I called out in our native Armenian. No English was allowed spoken in our house. “Five minutes.”“It better be,” he growled. “Your son is starving. I am starving.”I didn't hear the chair creak. He didn't stand up from his recliner. I sighed in relief, rubbing my hands across my apron. I should have had. More

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