Morning Tuesday, April 1st, 2025

After midnight, Lyrou pretended to leave the bedroom with her novel in hand, as if she were going to read it in the guest room. However, she’d hidden something in there yesterday when she had the house to herself. Having taken care of it, she returned to bed an hour later. A short nap, and then when Garin woke, she lay still as he took to the shower and prepared to leave for work.

She heard a knock on the door. Penny spoke through it, “Mom? Are you asleep?”

Lyrou, in a groggy voice, said, “Pour your chocolate cereal, mon papillon, I’m staying under the blankets.”

Penny talked through the door, “Yay! Cereal works for me, get your beauty sleep!” and turned down the hallway on her way down the stairs and to the kitchen.

Garin emerged from the steam of the bathroom and hurriedly put his suit together. “Read something scary that kept you up?”

Lyrou snuggled her pillow. “Cliffhangers and pulling sweater threads.”

The sounds of what could only be Penny dashing up the stairs and back to the bedroom door. “Dad! Mom! Come downstairs and look.” She giggled and disappeared.

Garin was confused. Lyrou shook her head; she’d remain in bed. Garin assured her, “I’ll handle whatever it is,” and he followed out after Penny.

There in the pantry, he found Penny staring. The cereal was all gone, and there on the shelf in its place was a small plastic fishbowl with a single friendly goldfish and a sticky note on it.

Penny leaned in closer to examine it. Written in a hurried but neat scrawl:  “Pour me into the big fish-tank in the loft upstairs, and I’ll give you back your things!”

Alan came waddling into the kitchen carrying his backpack in two hands as it was extra-heavy. He set it down, and Garin looked inside to see another plastic goldfish bowl with another goldfish swimming in circles. Alan resigned as if an imperial admiral coldly reporting his fleet carriers had been sunk in a surprise attack. “All my books are gone, my pencil case also, and my touch pad. The situation is hopeless, and there’s no future for us, no path forward. We have been bested by our adversary, and now we can only bow.”

Garin clicked his heels together, clenched his fist, and placed a firm hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Penny has just received the instrument of surrender. We can clutch the olive branch and exit this trial defeated but with honor.”

Garin carried the fishbowl from the pantry, and Alan carried the fishbowl in his backpack up the stairs and onto the loft, Penny leading the way, where they found a dry rectangular glass aquarium complete with a filter, pebbles, fish shelters, and a canister of fish food flakes. But there also inside were three boxes of cereal, two textbooks, a pencil case, a touch pad, and down beside the tank, four 5-gallon jugs of water. Penny grabbed out her cereal, Alan his school stuff, and Garin poured the water jugs out into the tank, before he and Alan then poured the fish also into the tank. They stopped and looked at the fish swimming as Garin flicked on the filter, and they beheld the bubbles. Penny, without asking, sprinkled a pinch of yummy flakes onto the surface and joyfully watched their new pets eat.

Garin looked at his phone to check the time. “You two need to get ready for school, eat, and go. And together in a hurried bustle, they returned arms full down to the kitchen. “Think about what you’ll each name your fish.”

Alan, pulling out a frying pan and eggs to make himself an omelet, said, “I’m torn between Chicken and Fish.”

Penny, cereal in her mouth, milk dribbling out of her lip, said, “You can’t name a fish Chicken, and you can’t name a fish Fish either.”

Garin, listening to their back and forth, didn’t register that he’d begun an unconscious and frantic search for his car keys. “Oh, man.”

He had only one option, he hurried back up the stairs and to the bedroom to kneel beside Lyrou, speaking to her through the blanket. “My keys.”

Lyrou lowered the blanket. She gave her terms, "Do an impression of a fish.”

Garin placed his hands on either side of his neck and turned them open and closed like gills, blew up his cheeks, and wide-eyed swam face-to-face with her. She kissed her fish and then produced from under her pillow his car keys. He snatched them and swiftly took leave.

⚜

Afternoon Thursday, April 3rd, 2025

Lyrou was meeting her friend Reine at the Japanese Gardens. While walking and enjoying the scents and sights of the gardens, she listened to Reine go on about her job in the special needs field, the touching, funny, and frustrating anecdotes of working with students with disabilities.

Laughing, Reine explained, “Then he looked up at me with those big innocent eyes in the middle of an exam, total silence in the test center, and said, ‘Miss Reine.. can I call my grandma? She knows more about this than I do.’ I just couldn’t hold it together.”

Lyrou smiled; she found it amusing. “Your students are so sweet, but I’d be at a loss with that one. What’s grandma’s number, kid?”

“They really are. And they keep me on my toes. So, tell me...” they walked together, elbow-to-elbow.

Just then, Lyrou’s phone buzzed with a text message. She read it, from Garin, “I’m with Jia now. I’ll have her, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing. Think of that at this minute.”  Lyrou’s expression changed, and her pace slowed as she read and digested the message, then put her phone away into her purse, not looking at Reine.

Reine noticed the shift in Lyrou’s demeanor and pace and paused, her smile fading. “Is everything OK?” she asked, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

Lyrou’s cheeks flushed, and she inhaled the fragrance of the cherry blossoms that surrounded them, trying to regain her composure. “Yes, everything’s fine,” she replied, forcing a smile. “It’s just... Garin. He’s just reminding me of something.” A sudden tightness in her chest, “It’s nothing that important,” she added quickly, hoping to change the subject. “So, tell me more about your students. Or were you asking me something?”

Reine studied her friend for a second, sensing the distraction beneath her smile. “Lyrou? Tell me.”

“It’s not a problem, and it isn’t an area of my life you want to be informed on.” Lyrou looked to the sky, the tree canopy, not to look at Reine.

“I know you and Garin are working on things since he found your profile.” Reine pressed.

“Yes. And it’s working, I think. But.. it can be tough.” Lyrou’s eyes lowered, back on the winding path ahead.

“Maybe it’s working for him, but not for you. You should’ve never had it, and I told you to delete it years ago. But that doesn’t give him a license to kill.” Reine dug in.

The term, kill, struck a nerve in Lyrou. Was Garin killing her? “It’s just... Garin is seeing someone right now,” she said low. “It’s part of our arrangement.”

Reine’s eyes widened. “Lyrou, are you OK with this? How can you be OK with this?”

Her smile faltered for a moment. The sun painted warm patterns on her brown skin as she thought over her words carefully. “It’s complicated, but we’re working through it. We did agree to a new openness.” She paused, watching the brilliant koi fish in the nearby pond to avoid Reine’s gaze. “It’s all about honesty now. I’m overt, as is he.”

Reine’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “Oh, Lyrou. He’s using your mistake against you. It isn’t right; you penitent, him punitive. It might be abusive.”

Lyrou defended Garin to Reine. “He must’ve wondered how I could’ve ever done it if I loved him, then felt that I did it despite loving him. Of course. And following this logic, something else occurred to him. If she, why not he? Because he was honest, his conscience answered him. But came the retort in his mind, wrestling itself, one could retain honesty and proceed so.”

Reine chewed on that. “Honesty. Yes. but… ?”

The unspoken question in her friend’s gaze made her heart ache. Her chest tightened as she tried to put her tumultuous emotions into words. “It’s... crazy,” she said finally. “It’s like we’re playing with fire, but we’re both willing to get burned if it means we can keep the flame of our love alive. And it’s not just sex for its own sake. It’s about trust, and pushing boundaries, and finding new ways to keep our relationship... interesting.” She looked away for a moment, watching the koi fish swim lazily in the pond, how huge and bright they were. “And then it’s about the thrill of knowing you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing.” She reached out and took Reine’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “But I trust Garin, and I know he loves me. And that’s what really matters. Isn’t it?”

Reine’s grip on Lyrou’s hand tightened. “But what about you, Lyrou? Are you really OK with this? Or are you allowing what you wouldn’t because you think you have to for him? Is it penance?” Her voice was filled with sincere concern.

Lyrou took a moment to consider her response, the sound of the waterfall in the background soothing to the turmoil in her. “I do have my moments. When I think of Garin with her, right now, it’s like a knife twisting in my gut.”

Reine made a face as if it were her being stabbed too. “Why do it?”

Lyrou sighed and looked about. “I’m wont to people watch when out alone. Sometimes, I’m looking for a handsome man and to catch him looking my way. These days it’s different. I notice women now. Take, for instance, her. Over there, Ms. Subtle ombre honey balayage it girl.” Lyrou nudged her chin in the direction of a pretty woman some seven meters away, taking selfies with a twisted Thunberg black pine.

Reine looked, nodded, and confirmed, “Ms. Sleeveless Turtleneck with the midriff.”

Lyrou grinned sadly. “She wouldn’t be on his radar, but now it’s changed. I know she’d be dead-set in his sights. Strangers who were invisible to me before, without their knowing it, they command my full attention now.”

“That’s hell.” Reine sympathized.

“But it’s not all pain,” she continued, her eyes drifting to the fish. “It’s also exhilarating, the power of knowing that I can give him what he needs, even if it means letting him stray. And when I’m with someone else, it’s like reclaiming a piece of myself that I lost in being put on standby in the flat routine. It’s exciting, dangerous. I feel alive again.” She squeezed Reine’s hand back, her eyes shining almost glad, Reine thought.

Reine swallowed hard. “I can’t say I understand fully, but I want you to be happy, Lyrou. And if this is what you and Garin have agreed upon, then none can rule against it.”

They walked quietly until Reine’s curiosity bubbled over the top. “But being with someone else, knowing that your husband knows and sort of allows it? How?”

The warmth of the sun on them. “It’s indescribable. It’s like a dance on a tightrope.” She looked away to the swaying bamboo trees. “One misstep could send everything crashing down. And yet, there’s something about it when I come home to Garin. And when he comes home to me.”

Reine’s pupils dilated. “But Lyrou, he’s with a woman, like, as we speak?”

“Yes, Reine. Garin is with another woman right now.” Lyrou said it so nonchalantly, overly so.

“Isn’t it cruel of him to tell you?” Reine imagined if her husband had sent her such a message, how she’d scream and panic.

They paused, watching the koi fish in the pond as they glided through the water, scooping the surface of insects and edibles. “I know it sounds strange, but it’s brought us closer in a way I never thought possible.” She looked back at Reine, her eyes shining with exhilaration and apprehension.

“I couldn’t do that with Philip. I would.. oh my gosh.. if he were with another woman right now I’d lose it.” Reine’s blood pumped full with stress hormones, but also sex hormones, the intoxication of such a delicious infusion.

Lyrou’s eyes met Reine’s, and she could see her curiosity, more than a hint of it. She took a second to consider her words in the cool shade of a weeping willow. “Everyone’s love story is different. What works for Garin and I might not work for you and Philip.”

Reine put her finger to her temple, moving her hair behind her ear. “You mean, you also tell him when you’re with another man?”

A chemical high coursed through her veins. “C’est vrai, Reine. We agreed to tell each other everything. It’s... it’s a trip, we’re sharing the most intimate of secrets. I’ll text him to mirror how he’s just texted me when I’m with my next lover. When I message him, it’ll be like I’m giving him a piece of me, a piece of me in the present act of that taboo deed.”

Reine gave a little head shake. “Philip would probably go insane if I ever.” and she let out a nervous laugh.

Lyrou’s smile grew a little sad at the mention of Reine’s husband. “Would he? Do you know that? I thought so of Garin, too. Chaque chemin est unique.” She squeezed Reine’s hand; she thought of her own adventures. “Chère amie, to me it’s not just for the forbidden, but finding what truly makes me feel real. Not fake and plastic, not such a carbon copy, not such an unremarkable nothing.” The two regarded the horizon, where the blue sky met the sea sublime. “That means stepping out of the comfort zone. Maybe there is a vixen in every woman mulling to rule her own world. But it’s a journey she must choose for herself.”

Lyrou and Reine continued through the florid gardens, Reine fearing that Lyrou had struck a hidden piece of life, a rare type of human experience, that few ever did. And she was, for the first time, unsure if she wanted a tiny piece of that world.

⚜

Noon Friday, April 11th, 2025

Garin was in his office working quietly alone, only punctuated by an occasional lengthy phone call. Behind him was a view of the Jersey City skyline and clear blue unto the horizon. A beautiful day, if a little cold for his liking. He’d been looking over special items at his desk, minor requested adjustments that, when added up, weren’t so minor, sent in by a client since coming back from lunch. He could sign off on most, but one or two of them would need to be declined, and he’d need to figure out how to decline them, probably by offering better options. Then his phone buzzed. It was a text from Lyrou.

“As per your request, I’m hitting send to alert you that I’m with Tom now.” Just letters on a screen in his hand that might as well have exploded and blown his fingers off.

Garin’s heart skipped and began to thump audibly reading the message. He’d agreed to this, but the reality of seeing it was such shrapnel to the eyeballs. He typed back, “Right now?”

Lyrou was there, taking in the sight of Tom’s muscular back as he poured them both a glass of wine on his condo balcony, a view of the same skyline as Garin looked out on. Like a naughty devil knowing that Garin was waiting for her update. She took her time replying, “Exactement, chéri. We’re sipping Nebbiolo together. He’s telling me about his latest photography exhibition. He has such an interesting hobby. I’m slipping off the red panties you chose for me, down onto the floor as his back is turned. I wonder if he will notice them.”

Garin, oblivious to the whole world but for the little words on his phone screen, was a touch puzzled. “Photography?”

She texted, “Tom is a mixed bag. Martial arts photography is a whole thing; action shots, grimacing faces, masculine bodies flying, high-resolution sweat beads, muscles flexed, fists clenched, the moment of victory and of defeat captured, and all that testosterone. He takes photos of me, too, but he won’t let me see them. I have no idea what he does with them or where they go.”

Garin’s eyes looked far onto the horizon outside his office window, the beauty of the day sky seemingly engulfed in fire as he read the message. His heart was racing, his cock thickening in his pants, and despite the coolness of the AC a line of sweat ran down the back of his neck. He’d agreed to this rule, to allow Lyrou this freedom, but the reality was so much more stomach-turning than he’d anticipated. His jealousy and arousal mingled, a blend that he both feared and craved. He glanced at his watch, wishing for the hours to pass, his thoughts on what they might be doing at that very second.

Lyrou was busy watching Tom’s reaction as she let her panties drop to the floor. He turned, a big, handsome scoundrel’s smile. She had him. “Ah, la chaleur de la soirée.”

Tom lifted his camera from its place on the mantle, and he turned it onto Lyrou. It was a dark machine of an instrument, a heavy presence of its own. Lyrou turned her face from the camera and spread her legs wide in a scandalous pose, her crotch open and bare, her sartorius tendons prominent as if leading the way into her from her inner thighs. The camera whizzed as Tom violated Lyrou’s modesty. “Your scarlet panties just there by your toes at the bottom of the shot, your cunt centered, your neck craned back as you look away in.. reluctant surrender.. It’s not provocative, Lyrou.”

“No? Then what is it, softcore?” Lyrou jabbed.

Tom winked. “No. Not softcore. It’s fatally artistic.”

Lyrou clasped her legs together as Tom set the camera aside. He stepped closer, his hand reaching for her wine glass. “To posing, not deposing,” he toasted. She took a sip, her pulse racing at the warmth of his hand brushing against hers.

She texted again, her eyes flickering to her phone, “I’m with him now. See you tonight. I’ll be ignoring any more texts now. Love.” She watched as Tom’s eyes darkened, the way she discarded her phone on the table, clearly affecting him.  Garin was waiting, but she wanted to savor this. Tom undid his belt buckle and then ripped it free in a single violent snap from the belt loop. Lyrou’s pupils dilated.

Her final message hit Garin like he was sitting in an electric chair, a cold-hot blast of sex and dread. He knew she was with Tom, knew what they were doing. But the thought of her ignoring his texts, focusing solely on her lover, was a new level of torment. He swallowed hard, his mind besieged with images of her with Tom. He forced himself to reply, “See you tonight.” He set his phone aside, trying to focus on the work in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the scene unfolding there.

⚜

Evening Friday, April 11th, 2025

Hours later, Garin was home, their two children lounging about, doing homework, playing video games. He spoke to them about school, their friends, and Penny’s frustration that a friend had spread some gossip against her that was only “half-true”. Garin prepared a meal for them, beef & broccoli with garlic bread. They helped, and just as they were setting the table, Lyrou came in the front door. “Honey?”

Lyrou smiled, taking off her light jean jacket, taking in the sight of her family. Love and guilt together. She’d promised to focus on their evening together, but the scent of Tom’s cologne still lingered on her skin, a proof of her afternoon’s escapade. She generated a smile, a smile that became authentic stepping into the kitchen. “Bonsoir!” she called out, her voice light. She set her bag down, kissing both children on the forehead. “How was everyone’s day?” she asked, her eyes finally finding Garin’s.

Garin looked up from his phone, looking for the other man on her. Their children were seemingly oblivious to what hung in the air to them like a fine mist. Together they ate, laughed as Alan told about his class comic chums, and as Penny humorously dropped it that Garin is referred to by some teachers and students as “the jogging dad” after he’d been seen enough times jogging the trail that runs by the school, to which Garin supplied, “Around this house I’m 20 grocery bags and a watermelon in one trip dad!” to Alan’s amusement, flexing his arms, ‘Get swole!”

Alan boasted that he’d written a 5-page essay entirely in French for his French class and how impressed his teacher, “Ms. Mattison, who got her degree in Brussels,” had been. Alan lauded his French teacher, to mom’s gratification, “Ms. Mattison said that nobody wants to be thrown into a pool if they’ve never swam, they’ll drown. But if they wade in and are taught how to swim by a patient teacher, then they’ll take to it.”

Garin raised his fork. “Speak it, my boy, or you’re no talk.”

Lyrou looked at her son with big eyes, elbows on the table, cheeks in her hands. “S’il vous plaît, faites-le.”

Alan took a breath and looked around the table. “Alright. OK. Je peux manger les repas de maman jusqu’à ce que je sois gros.”

Lyrou clasped her hands audibly, with a big smile. “Je te nourrirai jusqu’à ce que tu sois gros.”

Toward the end of the meal, Alan asked, “Can I listen to my playlist?”

Mom saw that his food was finished but that Penny was still eating, and nodded. “But stay at the table until she’s done, and then help clean up.”

“Boy howdy!” Alan plugged his ears to listen to the soft sound of a rapid beat, emitting enough that the family could hear it.

Lyrou mumbled, “Boy Howdy? Who is Boy Howdy?” and prepared her phone in her hand to search for him.

“He’s been saying boy howdy all day.” Penny made a disgusted face. “Why do you and every boy on Earth listen to that Brazilian mumble crap-rap?”

Alan shot back. “It’s phonk, and this St. Show Me represents East St. Louis. He’s peak.”

Penny continued, chewing, “You have a syndrome. Whatever. Sksksks.”

Alan lifted his hip at Penny and let out a quick fart in her direction. Lyrou’s jaw dropped, then her face went ferociously snarled like a lioness. “Sacré bleu! Eh-lehn, hideous! That isn’t your behavior at this table. This table!” She gave the table a rap of her knuckles, jittering and jingling the silverware.

Alan pleaded pardon. “Sorry! I'm legit sorry! It’s because I’m having a growth spurt!”

Garin and Penny suppressed their laughter. Lyrou pointed to them both. “Don’t laugh, he isn’t funny. Flatulent boy, he can’t be my son.”

⚜

Afternoon Saturday, April 19th, 2025

The dishwasher buzzed as Garin stood at the sink, his hands submerged in soapy water. The kitchen, still holding onto the heat from the midday sun, had that familiar comfort about it. Sunlight filtered through the half-drawn blinds, casting a yellow glow across the tiled counter and the dark wood cabinets that lined the walls. Garin’s movements were steady; he scrubbed the dishes one-by-one, rinsing each plate and setting it in the drying rack with a soft clink.

Lyrou leaned over the counter, looking through teachers’ comments on Penny’s schoolwork, arms crossed, watching him with a faint smile.

“The boys at school call him Chunks,” Lyrou said, breaking the quiet, her voice casual but with an edge of concern.

Garin’s hand paused mid-scrub, and he glanced over his shoulder, soap suds dripping from his fingers. He raised an eyebrow, his expression full of curiosity. “What the hell? How’d he get that nickname?”

Lyrou sighed, her eyes softening as she looked down at her hands, almost as if she were weighing her next words carefully. “I didn’t want to ask and find out. If it’s something unforgivable, I won’t resist calling his teacher and those boys’ moms with a lot to say. He would hate me then. Did you not earn a sobriquet with your dudes?”

Garin chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up another plate. “They called me Flarin’ Garin.”

Lyrou blinked, momentarily thrown off by the strange name. “What?”

Garin turned back to the sink, scrubbing a plate with more force now, clearly amused by the memory. “Not like that. It was no homo. You’re thinking of Flamin’, like Flamin’ Raymond.”

“And how did you earn ‘Flarin’ Garin’?” Lyrou put her finger to her lip.

He grinned as he rinsed the soap from a plate, letting the hot water run over his hand, turning it pink. “For their senior prank, the guys let off fireworks in the school on the last day.”

Lyrou’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s dangerous and illegal! Bouffons.”

Garin shrugged, his shoulders relaxed, the smirk on his face never wavering as he set the plate aside in the rack. “They didn’t call me Carin’ Garin. I helped light them.”

Lyrou shook her head, a laugh bubbling up, though she was still clearly concerned. “No!”

He picked up another dish, gently scrubbing it. “I only got away with it because the principal and teachers assumed that, because I wasn’t a senior, I couldn’t have been in on the conspiracy. They didn’t look twice at me. I was cooler than Cool Tool Quentin.”

Lyrou tilted her head. “Cool Tool Quentin?”

Garin threw his head back in a singular, big laugh. “Yeah! Now he was cool.”

Lyrou’s eyebrow quirked. “But… Cool Tool?”

Garin flashed her a teasing grin over his shoulder, setting the dish into the drying rack with a soft clink. “Am I going to tell you that story too? You know how wet parts stick to cold metal in winter?”

With a wave of her hand and looking back into the touch pad at Penny’s academic page. “You’re right, spare me.”

Garin stretched his neck and arm. He had a few theories: “They’re either calling Alan ‘Chunks’ because he’s got some flab, or he did something unspeakable in the cafeteria. Or chunks means nothing like what we think it might mean; it has a completely different definition in their dictionary. For all we know, Chunks is a badass nom de guerre among the boys.”

Lyrou’s eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope that Alan was less target-kid and more popular-kid than he seemed. “He wants to exercise with you; you should invite him down with you when you’re in the basement.” She walked around the counter and neared Garin.

Garin gave a little nod as he rinsed a bowl, wiping it dry before adding it to the stack. “He knows he’s welcome down there with me, I’ve told him that. But I’ll remind him.”

Lyrou stood beside him now, running a hand through her hair. “I could never call anybody ‘Cool Tool’.” She winced, then laughed softly.

Garin raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as he grabbed a coffee mug and began to scrub it clean. “You neither, huh? None of the girls would. They called him Squintin’ Quentin ‘cause he’d squint at them in gym.”

“Did you also squint at the girls in gym?” Lyrou teased, tapping her fingers lightly on his butt.

“No way, babe,” Garin said, his voice reassuring, though his lips quirked at the edges as he rinsed the mug.

Lyrou leaned in closer, her cheek brushing against his as she whispered playfully over his shoulder, “Do I believe that?”

Garin grinned, wiping his hands dry on a dish towel as he set the mug in the rack. “I wasn’t nearsighted like him. The girls called me Starin’ Garin.” His voice was smug, the memory putting him in the mindset of a teenager.

Lyrou snorted, her laugh bright and easy, as she pulled away, letting her hand linger on his bottom for a moment longer.

⚜

Evening Saturday, April 26th, 2025

In bed, Garin snuggled up to Lyrou, his hands around her waist. He said nothing, waiting for her to speak in the darkness. Garin spoke with a kind of happy relief in his voice, “Both of us, we’re afraid of losing each other to a paramour. We have the final proof: what do Jia and Tom have in common? Nothing, except that they’re the ones least likely, by far, to steal us from each other. Jia won’t divorce her husband because it’d bring shame on her and her family. Tom is, in his bones, so anti-marriage that I would say he’s married to himself. That is why I chose Tom for you, and why you chose Jia for me.”

Her eyes focused, the warmth of Garin’s body pressed against hers, a comforting presence. She rolled onto her back, the coolness of the sheets against the heat of her body. “My love,” she began, her voice soft, “As you well know...” She paused, listening to his breathing, feeling his grip tighten slightly. “It has been tortuously fantastic. But I have always come home to you, to our bed.” She regarded his chest, rising and falling, his silence a question. “I want us to be honest about everything.” She waited for his response, her mouth dry.

Garin’s face peered into Lyrou’s, in the dark, and was imbued with a kind of pride. But in what Lyrou could not discern. Was he proud of her? Proud of himself? He was looking so silently into her. Through her? She asked, "What are you thinking now? Tell me."

He didn't answer. Her heart palpitated out of her chest at Garin’s silence. “I haven’t put any man above you, never.” She tried to read his thoughts. “I need you to know that no one has ever replaced you, or displaced you, or surpassed you, or...”

“I’m not worried about that at all. Even if you were to replace me, I’d not spontaneously combust, would I? We would go on living. I’m invulnerable. I’m an immortal.” Garin drove his hand into Lyrou’s crotch and parted her lips below with two fingers.

In the darkness, the sudden intrusion of his hand caused her to gasp and seize up. She felt and became conscious of her wetness, her body responding as she searched for the right words. “Chéri. You’re not just anyone to me.” She shifted, arching her back slightly as his fingers found her clit. “You’re my everything.”

Garin’s fingers thrust up into her, stroking the soft swelling ridges of her G-spot. “Then if I were to replace you, how would you feel?” he asked, turning her sweet declarations back on her.

In the darkness, the intimate touch of his fingers sent tickling shivers up her body. With a poorly tempered desire and lost contemplation. “Chéri, that’s a different kind of challenge.” She gently bit her bottom lip; the thought of being replaced by another woman in Garin’s heart was terrifying to her. “If it were to happen, I would be so... I’d be horribly hurt, yes. Maybe I’d die inside.” She leaned in, her breath warm against his neck. Her hand found his cock, stroking it lightly. “I want us to always want each other.”

Garin slid under the blankets, parted Lyrou’s thighs with his strong hands. “This time you’ll make the rules for our next round. Whatever you say, I’ll at least hear you out and try not to ask to alter it. Tell me, what are our rules for our next round?” Garin gave Lyrou the reins, his mouth busily buried in her crotch like he was feeding.

The heat of his breath against her damp skin, his touch igniting her. Throughout the day and up to a moment ago, she worried that she might be on the defensive. Yet with a sharp turn, she now knew she had the power in this moment, and she intended to use it. She placed her hands on Garin’s head, petting his hair, her mind spilling over with possibilities. “Alright, mon roi,”  her voice playfully high and seductive. “For our next round, I want you to find someone who’s better than me. More beautiful than me. More fun than me. More interesting than me. Someone you wish you had married instead of me.” Lyrou’s orgasm built as Garin’s tongue worked her clit, entering into delirium, unable to believe what she was asking and unsure why she was asking it.

Garin’s heart raced at the challenge she’d laid before him. As he licked her deeply, he closed his eyes and took a moment to process her words. He pulled back, his eyes open to her. “What’re you saying, Lyrou?”

“I want you to really try, Garin. Try to find someone who has every right to replace me, find your perfect woman,” Lyrou said, her knees pulling together as Garin held them apart.

Garin looked as though he thought he didn’t hear her right. “But why?”

“L’appel du vide.” She answered, laying her head back.

Their bed was spinning with the intensity of her words. The manifestation of fantasy carried them into uncharted waters. He thought then how she was testing them, pushing their limits, but this? “Alright, Lyrou,” he agreed in submission and determination. “I’ll find someone. But the rules apply to us both. You then have to find a man you judge to be, a man you wish you’d married instead of me.” Garin positioned himself, steadying his phallus and docking it with her; he penetrated Lyrou as she lay on her side, acutely aware but not daring to mention that he was sure enough of her that she could.

The familiar full sensation of his cock inside her. The thought of Garin with another woman, her replacing him in his heart, was pure pain and dark desire. She wrapped her legs around him, her ankles locking over his buttocks, her body responding to his. “D’accord, chéri,” she whispered, a deep long, inquisitive moan. “Ooooaawwwhhh?”

Garin kneaded Lyrou’s ass cheek in his hand like dough and threw his head back in ecstasy. “Lyrou, it can take a long time to find a woman I honestly feel might make me wish I had her over you.”

With a flicker in her voice of fear and anticipation, she said, “I know, chéri. But it’s the long, hard chase that makes us sharp, isn’t it?” She leaned back, her hands reaching up and behind to grip his shoulders. “As long as we come back to each other,” she panted, “that’s all that matters.”

“Tell me what kind of man you’ll begin looking for.” Garin’s eyes locked with hers as he continued thrusting.

Lyrou’s mind filled rapidly with the possibilities. “Someone who understands me,” her voice tight with arousal. “Someone who can make me laugh, and who isn’t afraid to be a little... wild.” She moaned as he hit her G-spot, her thoughts becoming clearer. “Someone who appreciates my culture, my language... someone who can give me what I need.”

Garin felt under his fingers the folds of Lyrou’s skin below her shoulder blades. “Someone who could replace me in your life, someone who’d make you wish to leave me to have him?”

The intensity of his words made her pulse race. This was an unfathomable level in the throes of their power play, this mad dance, but the reality of what they were discussing was so paralyzingly bad that it was indescribably good. In a trembling whisper, she said, “Someone who makes me feel alive, mon chocolat. Someone who can give me the unknown and unseen. A man who makes me wonder where he was all my life and regret I didn’t find him before you took me.”

Garin mouthed Lyrou’s shoulder. “You want to be everything in the world to someone? Do you deserve that?”

The mean tone of his words made her heart ache.  He was playing into the fantasy, but the pain in her chest was real, too. She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. “Someone who can make me feel like I’m the only woman in his world,”  her voice thick with desire. “Someone who makes me forget all the others.” Her hips began to rock against him, her body rocked by her arousal.  She was pushing him; the delight of this game was too much to resist.

Garin panted with exertion. “Forget me, Lyrou? Forget me, too? Will he make you forget me?” Garin was reaching his climax.

Her hand found his chest, petting it and then pressing along his lengthy clavicles, her voice sweet in physical throes, she teased, “Chéri, maybe I’ve already forgotten you. Maybe every time I’m with another man, I’m just filling a void you leave when you’re not here.” His cock pulsed inside her, and she had him. She leaned in closer, her lips pressed to his ear. “Perhaps this...” she moaned as he hit her G-spot “... is what keeps me sane.” Her nails dug into his back, her body responding to the harshness of her own words. “Maybe you’re just a boring placeholder until I find the real love of my life. But only for now...” Her hips rocked against him, the rhythm of their bodies in sync.

Garin, dizzy from the pleasure and her words, picked himself up straight to counter. “Let’s see if you can do it, honey. Let’s see if you can find him. I want you to.” Garin grinned seductively and locked in a kiss with Lyrou.

A smoldering look that held both love and resentment, how magically this game hypnotized him, and she was eager to play it to the hilt. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her, her hands moving to grip his firm ass. “Garin,” she whispered against his ear, “You’re so good to me, so loving. But what if I found someone who could give me more?” His rhythm faltered slightly. “Someone who could fill me so completely, make me feel life is so colorful and bright, so hot, so worth living that I’d forget every other man, even you.” Her hips were moving in a frenzy, her breasts mashed together and rocking. “Imagine, chéri,” she continued, her voice taunting, “a man so perfect that when he touches me, I scream his name and not yours.”

Her words sent him over the edge, his orgasm ripping through him like a storm, cursing “Ffff-euh-euh-ckk!” and he spurt, dumping loads into her, his pubic area pressed tightly against hers, his shaft a rapid and thick series of peristaltic throbs. After a moment to let the ecstasy run its course and fade, he stood pulling from her. He quickly, aggressively copped her hypersensitive labia and clitoris, and with quick reaction time, she threw his arm away, slapping his ass cheek as he walked off to shower.

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