Noon Wednesday, May 14th, 2025

Garin didn’t return to his office when he went out for lunch, but skipped food and took a drive. The bell jingled as the glass door swung open; Garin pushed through, allowing a mild breeze to sweep through the cozy Korean café. The café, nestled at the corner of a tree-lined street, had been a workspace for yuppie professionals, hipsters, and students for nearly two decades. Its ivy-covered bricks and quaint outdoor seating provided a picturesque shelter from the glass-and-concrete of downtown Jersey City. Here the steady murmur of conversation blended with the hiss of the espresso machine and the tapping of keyboards; here time seemed to tick a little slower.

Garin approached to order. Music played, a K-pop synth single outro giving way to a new R&B ballad. Behind the counter, a barista with a name tag marked with “Christian Choi” was crafting his latte art in the foam for a young copper-haired, eye-stealing, curvaceous Black woman. She looked like she’d just come from a nail appointment and was trying her best not to touch anything with them. She took her drink, and Garin stepped up, “Ristretto, short pull, fine grind, please.” And Christian’s neutral eyes communicated he knew just how to make it, “Tap your card, and I’ll have it served up momentarily, sir.”

This was certainly the place. Garin took the chair at the only table-for-two. In the corner, a skinny young man with a tall mop of curly brown hair sat hunched over his laptop, his pupils glued to the screen. A local in a pair of skinny jeans with paint smudges, a plaid shirt, and a tweed vest from a thrift store rack. Getting up to claim his drink and return to his table, Garin watched this guy and got a sight of what he was working on, an intimidating biomechanics-based motion graphics model. Or less impressively put, a half-rendered computer-animated Mt. Rushmore with the US presidents swapped for four popular content creators. The stranger was too engrossed to notice Garin studying him, but the barista noticed patron-watching-patron and shruggingly supposed to himself that Garin must recognize the face. He didn’t, and yet he did. Taking his first hot sip, Garin thought how Paulo could have been sitting where that man is sitting now; back then playing cool not to blow Lyrou’s whole dark double-life open under the sun. It occurred to Garin that this guy could indeed be the very same Paulo. Why not? Or he might be any of Lyrou’s dozens of paramours. Garin thought to himself, “How many times have I crossed paths with men who have known my wife sensually, myself none the wiser? It must’ve happened quite a few times. Well, it’s inevitable that it’ll happen again and again, and I’ll not know. I’ll never know.” Garin suppressed a laugh, tucking his chin into his shoulder and turning; he had a funny idea, he thought.

Composing himself, he turned and faced this stranger, “Hey… hey...” and waved a bit to get his attention.

The stranger looked up from his computer; he hadn’t seen Garin the entire time he’d been there, and with a little consternation, “Yeah?”

Garin raised his eyebrows. “You look like someone; is your name Paulo?”

The stranger sat straight. “No, man, sorry.”

Garin waved his hand dismissively, “Forget it, thanks.” And they each returned to their default positions, not-Paulo working on his laptop and Garin sipping his coffee.

Garin thought, “If he were Paulo, he wouldn’t say. He’d play it as cool now as he did back then. The only way I’d know for sure would be to beat him up and yank his wallet from his tight little jeans, tear out his driver’s license and confirm just who he really is.” Looking across the ceiling, Garin saw a CCTV camera looking back down at him, a blinking red light. “Or I could pay the barista to give me a USB with the entire history of recordings by that eye in the sky. I could take it home and take it to my office, watch every single day and night, years of it, for sight of Lyrou, and when I finally spot her, my beard long and my eyes bloodshot, my teeth rotting out, I could freeze the footage, zoom in and discover the face of the man accompanying her… the face of Paulo.” Once more Garin tucked his chin into his shoulder and suppressed a laugh, though this time a rough snicker came out.

Garin took a longer sip, excellently made; he should come here more often, he thought. And then he imagined, “If I’d a time machine, I’d go back to the first day I came here and found Lyrou by stupid serendipity. Past-me and Lyrou would be beside themselves with terror as a vortex opened, by the main entry thus blocking their exit, shooting brilliant laser bolts through the café, shattering porcelain, coasters flying off the tables, Christian the barista cowering on the floor behind his counter with pots spilling over, anti-matter forces blinking the lights on and off, and out of this electrical ball future-me would come. I’d calmly approach past-me, “Garin!” and past-me would reply, “Whaaa?” and I’d put my hand on his shoulder, “Listen to me very closely. I’m you from the year 2025! I’ve put in peril the 11-dimensional equilibrium to deliver this message! You need to come back to this café and try the whole menu; it’s really yummy.” Then I’d turn and dive back into the vortex, and it would close up to a thunderous whistling and roaring as if inside a jet engine, then instantly… quiet. Past-me, Lyrou, and poor Paulo would devote their lives to coming to this café and tasting its rich blends.”

Garin was here because Lindz had left him a drunken voice message after midnight. He could barely understand what she was sobbing into the receiver, so he called her up and asked her to meet him here in-person. He didn’t need to ask twice.

Lindsey arrived. Not an imaginary Lindsey, but the real Lindz, Garin's first girlfriend. She ordered her drink and Garin stood to pay for it, which she allowed. "Thank you."

Sitting together, she exhaled, "So."

Garin smiled, "So."

Lindz began her apology, "About my voice message."

Garin waved his hand at it, "You were drunk calling."

Lindz shook her head, "Which is terrible. I can't take back my words or say I didn't mean them."

Garin agreed, "Right, alcohol is a truth potion. But look, I did something much worse. And I should apologize."

Lindz sat back, "Something much worse? What did you do?"

Garin produced from his briefcase the file. "Some months and months ago I hired a PI to... well... tell me about you. It's all in there. I'm sorry. I didn't have a right to do that."

Lindz took the file; she looked to Garin. "What do you mean a PI? You hired a PI for... me?"

Garin nodded, "Yeah."

Lindz furrowed her brow and processed what it meant. Garin fetched her drink as the barista called that it was ready. When he brought it back to their table, he saw that she had opened it and begun to read the story of her life as records would tell it, "This is an invasion, Garin, of me."

Garin sat and shrugged, "I shouldn't have done it."

Lindz clasped her hands over her mouth and breathed, "OK. OK, then why did you?"

Garin looked her in the eye. "I wanted to know who you were, who you became, what kind of life you lived since we broke up. I wanted to see about you, truly."

Lindsey's heart beat. "I told you, and if you wanted to know more, then you should've asked. I also want to know everything about you, Garin. You're all I can think about. Why didn't you just ask me whatever you wanted to know?"

Garin massaged her hand. "I don't trust anybody anymore."

Lindz's face turned red, and she leaned in to whisper. "Joseph told me something. Do you trust me to tell you?"

Garin sat up. "I should try."

Lindz paused to think how she would word it. "I know that you and Lyrou are open about things. But Joseph told me that she, she sent him some crazy texts. And she invited him over to your home when you were away. Garin, that's what he told me."

Garin had no response, unsure how to handle this piece of his open marriage bouncing back at him, "He did?"

Lindz nodded, "Yes, he did. And nothing else."

Garin lifted her hand up, regarded it, and gave the back of her fingers a quick kiss, "Thank you for telling me that."

Lindz relished his lips on her hand. "Garin. Divorce her. I'll never lie to you. Look, was there anything in this file, in my life, that contradicted anything I had shared about myself?"

Garin placed her hand down. "Don't tell me to divorce."

Lindz tried to tailor her words, and she lowered her voice, "I didn't tell you to divorce her; I'm asking you to come be with me. Come be with me, Garin. We are you and me, Garin and Lindz. We should've never broken up. We belong together, but somehow we let it go. And now we're sitting here just you and me. Don't deny what this means."

The lovely sight of Lindz, her smell, her voice took Garin back in memory flashes; when they were first young lovers together, how he unhooked her bra and saw her breasts, how he grasped hold of her breasts, the same breasts that sat across from him now. He recalled pulling her panties down the first time and discovering her pubic hair, and then kissing a pussy for the first time, her pussy. The same pussy that sat across from him now. And he remembered cumming inside a woman for the first time in his life; it was inside Lindz he first released himself inside of a woman. And here she was looking at him with the same beautiful eyes she looked at him with then, when she looked at him as the boy who had taken her virginity and who had given his unspeakable white essence into her warm core. Here she was, the same Lindz. And he was the same Garin. And yet, neither of them was the same. They were not the same two people at all.

Garin objected, "No, Lindz. And if you had a file like this one I have on you, if you saw who I am now, you wouldn't beg me for anything."

Lindz stood, leaving her drink untouched. "You are a man who needs love. Real love. The kind of love we had and can still have." And with that she turned like a bird, her hair whipping over her shoulder like a wing flapping, and she hurried out of the coffee shop. She had left the file there on the table for Garin to do with what he may.

Garin smiled softly, then downed the remaining half of his drink. Raising up and waving to Mr. Choi, the barista, he said, “See you again.”

⚜

Noon Saturday, May 17th, 2025

Garin met Amina after having chatted with her several times by text and video call. It was his idea to do something neither of them had ever done before, and having thrown out a few options that either one of them had done, they came to realize rock climbing was on their mutual bucket list. They found a discount beginner's class, and agreed it would be better to eat dinner afterward rather than lunch before. Garin picked her up at the entry to her apartment complex, and she looked fantastic, all skintight athletic wear and her hair tied back. "You remind me of a lovely British tomb raider, looking like that," he complimented her as he drove, enjoying her side profile and the part her seatbelt made through her cleavage.

Amina was honored. "You're a cheeky, bloody good mutant eastern barred bandicoot, Garin," she said, her fake British accent lilting with amusement. She adjusted her seatbelt, her eyes sparkling. "I've always wanted to try rock climbing. It seems so... I don’t know.. like parkour, and buildering, and that kind of stuff, an extreme, gnarly sport."

"Cowabunga. I'm going to get shown up in front of the pretty woman that I don't have grip strength or something and give her the ick.” He squeezed his steering wheel tight as if it were rocks on a wall. 

Her laughter was lovely and seemed to echo through the car. "Negative aura! Don't worry, Garin. It's all about technique, not just brute strength," she assured him, placing a comforting hand on his thigh and giving his quadricep a quick squeeze. "Besides, by the look of you, I'm sure you'll be shooting up the wall once you get the hang of it."

The two entered the rock-climbing wing of the gym to find other adults and a couple of teens assembled. They were a few minutes late and joined as the instructor had started explaining and handing out the harnesses for them to put on. Garin helped Amina before he’d put his on. "Nice and snug," he said as he adjusted it on her body.

"Thanks," she replied, watching him in the wall mirror as he tugged at the straps. "I'm worried about how high this wall goes, but I'm sure we'll both do great." She smiled, "Besides, I've got you to catch me if I fall."

Garin gave her a low-five slap of encouragement as the instructor came to check every student's harness to ensure it was on correctly. There were several lanes, and the students were split into pairs. The instructor explained and double-explained, then demonstrated how each pair was to work. Go time, Garin winked at Amina before she turned to find her first grip and toehold, “I got you, I got you,” and he nodded upward, hands well-placed on her safety rope.

Garin watched from below, holding the top rope in case she fell. Several students did indeed fall, but Garin watched and cheered as Amina ascended, slow but steady... higher and higher. “Garin! It looks so high from here, and I’m not even... like... a third up, am I?”

“You’re higher than that, good job!” He enjoyed the view of her butt and was entertained to watch as she navigated the rocks.

Amina soaked in the adrenaline as she reached for the next hold, all her muscles straining against the textured wall. She could sense Garin's eyes on her, his grip on the rope firm and reassuring. Despite a mild fear of heights, she pushed herself, driven by the physicality of this new experience with him. As she reached the top, she let out a triumphant laugh, “Woooo! Cowabunga!” She looked to Garin, her eyes round and peering downward like a leopard up on its ledge. "Your turn, bandicoot," she called down, her voice echoing through the cavernous space of the climbing gym. He was watching her, and the thought of him seeing her in this light, strong, capable, and free, allowed her to pretend she was the main character. The instructor and other students clapped and gave a fist pump.

After easing her down with the instructor talking them through it, Garin and Amina switched to a more difficult lane; Garin would have a few obstacles more than Amina had. "I'm going to take it slow, like you." And he eased his way up. Indeed, his calf and triceps muscles were sore from working out according to his routine a day previous, and in his mind he quietly worried how he’d play it cool if he really sucked. But up he went, at one point hanging by one arm and then recovering to go higher. "Nice!" she called up at him. Then he came to a point that a rock climber would have to make a powerful sort of leap and catch the proceeding rocks.

The instructor shouted up tips that’d make this advanced movement possible for a novice. “Bro, this is all about your feet, full articulation of the ankles, put your big toe into it, maximum speed! Let’s go, my man!”

Garin steadied himself and thought through what the instructor was saying; he visualized how he’d do it. Amina watched him, not just from the exhilaration of the climb, but from the way his lat muscles flexed in his back and the determination etched on his face. She could see the effort he was putting in, and it made her more attracted to him. "You can do it, Garin!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the gym.

The time had come; any longer would constitute freezing up, and he was expending strength just to hold the position he’d reached. He made the leap... Garin's leap was surprisingly graceful in its explosiveness, his thick calves firing like sinewy cannons, his body stretching towards the next hold as a puma might, paws open and claws extended. For a moment, he hung in midair, suspended between fear and triumph. The grip of his hand tightened around the rock he’d aimed for; he controlled his momentum, and with a grunt he hauled himself up, his bicep muscles bulging with the effort. The crowd below watched with bated breath, and Amina with a surge of pride as he reached the top, his face flushed with exertion. She gave him a thumbs up and shouted, "You did it!"

After helping one another out of their harnesses, Garin and Amina parted to use the gym showers and changed into more comfortable clothes, a touch casual but just right enough for a dinner date. They met by the doors, and Garin gave Amina an option of dinner: walking into the parking lot;"... the steak and lobster place with the view of the river or the Japanese where they cook it in front of you and do the tricks?"

Amina's eyes lit up at the mention of the Japanese restaurant. "With the sizzling teppanyaki and the chefs juggling knives?" she asked, her smile growing wider. "That sounds like a real treat! I've never gone to one of those." She linked her arm through Garin's, feeling the warmth of his skin and the comfort of his closeness. "Let's go for the show, and maybe I'll get to see you try to catch a shrimp with your mouth," she teased, her voice playful.

Garin looked to the sky, mouth and eyes agape, bobbing his head right and left as if trying to catch something with his mouth. "You're a goof." She tapped him on the mouth to close it. The surprise of such a tactile contact, her finger touching his lip if only for a second, was erogenous enough to activate his preoptic nucleus and strobe light his mind’s eye with scenes of Amina naked, sweaty, and bouncing on him. He reversed out of their parking space and made way for the restaurant.

Doing a smooth 45 mph, by good chance beating every red light, “You’re the cutest, prettiest being on the Earth.” Garin declared, looking over at her in the passenger seat, eyes scanning her from toe-to-head.

Amina shook her head, “I don't think so... do you think so?”

He tapped the rearview mirror, “You see yourself in the mirror every day, like a raw fish in water that doesn't know it's wet.”

As he drove, Amina watched his steering, his big knuckles, his arms and hands on the wheel. He looked over and saw that she was watching him. She was almost too shy to say it, but too naughty not to, “You’re wrong.”

Garin, confused, eyes alternating between the road and her, “About?”

“I do know when I’m wet.” She smiled, turning red.

“That’s raw, really.” Garin laughed, handsome crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes.

Amina couldn't help but laugh at her and Garin's antics, her eyes lighting up with delight. As they pulled up outside the restaurant. "Oh, you're going to love it," he assured her. "The food is amazing, and the show is half the fun." He took her hand in his, leading her into the Japanese restaurant and asking for seating for two. They were met with the scent of grilling meats and searing vegetables and the rolling sound of bantering laughter. Deeper inside, they were greeted by the rhythmic clanging and chopping of knives and the shouts of the chefs. The restaurant was lively, with flaming dishes being tossed in the air and caught with a carnival performer’s ease. They were seated at a large table with a grill in the center, and as they watched the chef prepare their meal, their eyes met, the flames reflecting in their pupils. Amina found herself feeling sillier and more amorous than she had in a long time. She leaned closer to Garin, her voice low and sultry. "I was starving, and now seeing it, I'm really starving," and the show began.

It was everything a Japanese grill should be, as authentic as anything in Tokyo. They talked about her job, his job, how they both knew something of the company the other worked in. She invited him to ask her anything, and she’d answer it without judging his intent behind the question or weighing its appropriateness for a first date, to which he asked her to list her red flags. “Ooooh, let me think about that. I have one. If a guy drops hints and hints and hints he’s going to propose, and the hints just don’t seem to materialize into anything. I’m out if a man does that.”

Garin raised an eyebrow, “Are you hinting you’ve been fed a string of hints before?”

Amina gestured with her finger a hook, “I bit, and bit, and bit. Yes. But not again. What’s your red flag, Garin?”

“I won’t let a woman give up everything for me. If a woman gives up everything for me, she might think she can do anything to me.” Garin shook his head.

“Wow. You got hurt.” Amina gave a slight sympathetic smile.

Garin chewed, “Never mind that. What’s cute?”

Amina wondered, “What’s cute? In a guy? Let me think. Right! When a guy uses a common expression, but wrong. I don’t know why, but it’s so cute. Like ‘we need to nip it in the butt ’, instead of bud. Help me, I die.”

Garin raised his eyebrows with a smirk, “You fall head over heels for it.”

Amina’s face turned deep red, her voice low, “Heels over head, heels over head.”

They talked more about their lives; she explained who her dad was, he explained he didn’t know his dad, she explained her ideas about religion, he his, they talked about their interests, and importantly they were stuffed. The bill came, and the price of finding such Japanese culinary authenticity in their American tri-state conurbation was a given… “I go Dutch, Garin, how much?” she asked, reaching into her purse.

He took the bill and wrote a tip, though not ignoring her, “Less than fugu shirako daiginjo kaiseki and more than a bento box; I’ll pay this time, and you’ll pay for something next time.”

She touched his arm, “Thank you.”

A couple of hours of walking-talking and driving-talking later, Garin dropped Amina off where he’d picked her up. She gave him a kiss of chemical synergy, and he stood by his car to watch her go safely into her apartment complex. She waved back once at the entrance to her building, "Goodnight, ninja!" and giving the roof of his car a chop of his hand, Garin waved back.

⚜

Noon Saturday, May 17th, 2025

Midday. Garin was out. Lyrou called out from the kitchen, "À table! Come!"

Penny marched down the stairs and into the kitchen, "Mom!" Alan was running just behind her, "Shut up!"

Penny stopped and stood before Lyrou like a soldier; she'd come to tattle, "Alan said he wishes I was dead!"

"What!? Alan?" Lyrou frowned and peered into Alan.

With indignation, he slapped his palms together over his head. "Time out! That's not what I said!"

"You did." Penny insisted, standing by Maman.

"I said if you were the All-Mind, then everybody, including me, should wish you were dead." Alan clarified.

"That's the same thing!" Penny screeched.

"It isn't!" Alan became distressed.

"If I were the All-Mind right now, you wouldn’t know it." Penny reasoned.

"Right? But if you were, then I’d wish you were dead, obviously. Everyone should!" Alan countered.

"I’d wish you were dead if you were the All-Mind too!" Penny shot back.

Lyrou had enough. "Don't say that, Penny. Apologize."

"I can't apologize to the All-Mind." Penny refused.

Alan slapped his arms at his sides. "I take it back. Not even the All-Mind could pretend to be as dumb as you. So, I don’t wish you were dead! Happy?"

Lyrou clasped the tops of their heads, a hand on each, and settled it. "Does the All-Mind have homework?"

"Me?" Penny and Alan said in unison.

Gently placing plates of pasta with roasted vegetables on the table, Lyrou said, "Alan, I trust you're finished, but Penny, I want to see your math work on the kitchen counter when it's complete."

Under her breath, Penny griped, “... but it’s freaking Saturday.”

Lyrou gave a scowl, “Oh? It is! You’ll have ‘freaking’ Sunday free and thank me then.”

After they’d finished eating and gone back to their bedrooms, the house was quiet except for the hum of the dishwasher and the occasional distant noise from the kids upstairs. Lyrou sat at the kitchen island, sipping her wine, a glass she’d poured only minutes ago. She passed the time reading a novel, lost in its world and characters; a countess who was slowly morphing into a giant bat, a glassblower who’d turned himself invisible and couldn’t turn himself back, an orphan boy who’d started the Bolshevik Revolution to rob banks being pursued by magician-police, and more in this growing motley assortment trying to prevent a Tartarian flat Earth-related conspiracy from coming to fruition.

Reine had texted that morning to say she’d like to be over in the afternoon, and Lyrou had hesitated for a moment before affirming. Reine had long been the kind of friend who didn’t need an invitation, but the friendship was out of gear since her RedLikeRoses excursion.

The doorbell rang, and Lyrou glided from the kitchen to the entry. Reine stood there, her oversized bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a casual blazer and jeans. Reine’s ginger hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and she needn't anything to say before coming in. Once inside, after removing her shoes, she asked, "How shit is your day?"

“Speak freely. The kids are in their bedrooms upstairs.” Lyrou stepped aside so Reine could walk in. “Wine?” 

“White,” Reine said, tossing her bag on the counter with a soft thud. Reine noticed Penny and Alan’s Mother’s Day cards on the fridge; she took a moment to read them. “Because Elena is too little to write me a card, Philip wrote one for me in her voice, as if what she’d write if she could. It was silly and nice.”

Lyrou nodded. “Garin wrote his Mother’s Day card to me, but I can’t put it on display. He calls childless women and accidental moms terrible epithets and praises me in this toxic language, honoring me that I deliberately chose motherhood despite having more exciting options, whereas most women just auto-sleepwalk or slip-up into momdom, I guess. I don’t know how to take it; sweet in a Garin way, but insulting if one stands on behalf of womankind.”

She reached for her phone, tapping away for a second before sliding it onto the coffee table. “So… how’s Garin?”

“Busy with his freedom. Your Philip? Does he have the bundle?" Lyrou answered, pouring the Riesling and handing her a glass.

“At his little brother's, they're putting in his new water heater between changing diapers. Let's hope he didn't forget he has somebody in the backseat and leave the windows up." A hint of affection in her voice. “He needs to be productive.” 

Lyrou smiled, "Better than to be reductive. Didn’t you get an alarm for that?”

"He had it installed before I left the ward." Reine sat at the counter, tucking her feet behind the metal bands of the stool under her. They overheard Penny shouting upstairs in her room on a video call with classmates, “I swear, since the COVID lockdown, kids don't care to play outside.  At her age I’d only come in for meals and bed, and sometimes food and sleep wasn't enough to get me inside."

“We have that huge backyard, and they don't look at it," Lyrou added, taking a stool on the opposite side of the counter. "It's essentially their mom's play area, and they're the ones who call me inside for supper."

Reine nodded thoughtfully. “I wanted to ask you something.” She took a sip of her wine and raised an eyebrow.

Lyrou laughed, thinking what it might be. “Yes?”

Reine chuckled. “Of course, you can say no. But would you come over and watch a baby and a couple of dogs with me? Next Saturday. It's my turn to be locked up at home.”

Lyrou shook her head. "It has to be one specific baby, Reine, or I'm not doing it. Is it the Lena baby? The Lena banana who ate a dog toy?"

Reine touched Lyrou's hand. "Oh my god, it’s the special Lena baby you speak of. I don't have any others yet."

"Yet?! But I'm there." Lyrou held her palms out at Reine in promise.

As the evening wore on, the conversation deepened, shifting from the everyday to the more personal. Lyrou was to confide in Reine her plan for Garin. She’d bought something for him, and she showed it to Reine. "This is it. It’s my last hope."

Reine listened quietly, her brow furrowed, before offering a gentle smile. “You’re still you, Lyrou. You just… have more courage than you had to start. But hey, you don’t have to be broken if he rejects this.”

Lyrou smiled sadly, feeling a little lighter. “Yes, I know. I just forget sometimes. It’s like I’m so used to doing it by myself, facing Garin, I forget I can ask for help.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment. Reine took a slow breath, then placed her glass down on the counter, her expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper, like she was seeing Lyrou for the first time all over again. She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering with that familiar, unshakable certainty that Lyrou had always relied on. “You know what I see when I look at you?” Reine asked, her eyes steady and fierce. “I see a woman who’s never let anything keep her from figuring it out. You’ve come out the other side every time.” Reine leaned back, looking at Lyrou with a kind of awe in her eyes, her smile wide and teasing but full of admiration. “Honestly, you’re a different breed,” she said, shaking her head as if in disbelief. “You should be studied in a laboratory. Like, they need to figure out how you just… resilience, grace, and a total ‘I’ve got this’ attitude, no matter how much is thrown at you. They should have a Lyrou poster for all the sad bitches in counseling, and put a caption on it: ‘This is what a woman who refuses to break does.’” 

Lyrou couldn’t help it. She let out a tearful, saliva-wet laugh, wiping at her eyes before shaking her head, feeling both overwhelmed and ridiculous all at once. “OK, OK... that’s cheesy."

Lyrou cleared her throat to speak, but Reine held up a hand, cutting her off. "Don’t interrupt me. I’m serious,” Reine continued, her tone intense. “Who were you when you met some man named Garin? You were balancing work and school, and still putting yourself together every day. You took the fall because that fake climber lied to save herself, you walked out on your internship because HR wouldn't sit-down that rotten jerk, you had to fly home to Paris on a whim at the worst time and almost not make it back because your family had no respect for what you were accomplishing by yourself, you grinded it through as envious sycophant queen bees sabotaged you and toxic males dismissed you as eye candy cubicle fluff. You never made excuses. You never got stuck in a corner and cried about how hard it was. You kept moving on. You got your shit done. And I’ve seen you do it again and again, through everything. You didn’t dread losing anything or anyone because... because you had yourself. So, what’s different now? Nothing."

Lyrou was quiet, unsure of what to say, but Reine wasn’t finished. "Listen,” Reine said, softening just slightly, but her words still sharp, like she was carving out a truth. “I’m not talking about him. I’m not talking about your marriage. I’m talking about you. You’ve been the master of your own life, Lyrou, since day one. Much more than I’ve been. And no one can take that autonomy from you; no one gets to change that.”

Reine paused, watching Lyrou closely, gauging her reaction. “Whatever this is. You’ve done bigger stuff than this blindfolded. You don’t need anyone’s approval. Not mine. Not your mom’s. Not Garin’s. So if you want to make a move, then do it and let it be whatever it's going to be. And I know you’re more than capable of handling whatever comes next, because you’ve already handled it all.”

Lyrou was silent now, her chest feeling lighter, almost as if the weight she’d been carrying had shifted. "Reine, merci ma belle rousse."

Reine took a deep breath and then explained what of her own life, "Philip offered to give me access to his savings account, but I declined. That's where that is. Lyrou, I don't think becoming RedLikeRoses and going on a date with some Alexander was a waste of time. Knowing that I had the option, knowing that I declined the option, knowing that I could have the option again and potentially cross that line should I ever decide to. It's made me feel I'm not trapped or subject to someone else's whims, least of all my husband. Knowing that Philip will never need to know about it unless I decide to tell him, it does make me feel powerful. Not baleful, but empowered that I have something important that is only mine. And it does make me a better wife to him, because he feels to me like my chosen man every day instead of a choice I once made and I'm just stuck with. And now, I'm less shy with him about sex. I don't ask him what he can do with me or to me; I tell him what I want. There's no such thing as TMI between you and me, Lyrou, so I'll just tell you I've cast Philip in a few roles since Alexander kissed me."

Lyrou's smile grew big and bright. "Did you get him to play intruder?"

Reine nodded slowly and naughtily. "At 1:30 a.m. I heard a noise downstairs like someone had broken a window, then a crack like a door had been burst open with force, kicked open."

Lyrou furrowed her brow. "Hein? Did he really break in like that?"

"I told him not to tell me anything ahead, not the time or how he'd enter. But he chose 1:30, and he smashed an old pane of glass and cracked a spare two-by-four. I was in bed and I almost pissed myself because it sounded so real." Reine recounted with relish.

Lyrou guffawed. "It's classic movie studio tricks!"

Reine giggled, tapping Lyrou's hand. "He called them Foley effects. I walked out into the hallway and called down the stairs; all I could hear was the ruckus of silverware being dumped out onto the kitchen floor and cabinets being slammed. I knew it was role-play, but he was doing it so well I was scared. So I grabbed a screwdriver from his office desk and went down the stairs in the dark. I turned the banister in the dark, and I saw a flashlight halo zipping around in the kitchen. I shouted, ‘I have a gun, and I've called the police; leave my house!"

Lyrou bit her fingertips. "Reine! This is terrifying."

Reine shook her head. "All the noise stopped, and nothing happened. It must have been a few seconds, but it felt like forever. And then I heard him walking through the silverware, his steps coming closer. I ran up the stairs, but as I reached the landing to turn, I heard him running up the stairs after me. I stumbled up on my hands and knees, but he had gotten there so quickly. I felt him grab my ankles, and somehow he knocked the screwdriver from my hands, and it rolled down the stairs."

Lyrou huffed out a laugh of disbelief. "This is what you find sexy?"

Reine nodded slowly and deeply. "I was on fire, Lyrou. He had on a black balaclava and this black jacket and black leather gloves... and he grabbed at me on the stairs, pulling off my clothes. I pushed and slapped and kicked, but he simply... overpowered me. I begged that I'd give him all my jewelry if he just let me go, but he started... oh my God."

Lyrou pinched Reine on her forearm. "Don't stop. You said it yourself, there is no such thing as TMI between you and me."

Reine paused to sort the flurry in her retelling of it. "Yeah. So. Uh huh. He peeled his balaclava up only enough to free his mouth, and he uh, yeah, sucked my tits like he hadn't once since being weaned."

Lyrou cocked an eyebrow. "He wasn't interested in the jewelry?"

Reine shook her head. "And then he pulled down his pants, and over my pleas, he made me suck his dick. I was in my fantasy, Lyrou. But better, I knew I'd be OK because it was my Philip under the mask."

Lyrou placed her hand over her chest, imagining Reine swallowing make-believe burglar cock on her dark stairs one recent night. "It's romantic."

Reine closed her eyes to recall it. "Romantic? Yes. But I wanted raw criminal fuck. And he gave that to me. There were moments where he was slamming into me from behind. I thought how so unlike Philip it was, this kind of sex. It seemed like it wasn't him, but a real stranger, a real burglar, a real intruder taking my body during a break-in. I orgasmed again and again, holding onto spindles like cage bars; he really stole me."

Lyrou thought about Reine's story for a moment, then she said, "C’est magnifique. Which role-play scenario will you two attempt next, Reine?"

Reine chuckled. "He's going to kidnap me from our garage one night. But he hasn't told me when. It could be tonight or next week; I'm both scared out of my senses and... and..."

Lyrou completed her thought. "And you're moist thinking he'll take you."

Reine helped Lyrou with dinner, the kitchen loud with the chopping of vegetables and the warm hum of the oven. Penny and Alan, freshly scrubbed and teasing one another, drifted in and out of the room, offering bits of chatter and banter. After they ate, Reine briefly stepped outside onto the back balcony to call her husband, checking in on him and their infant as he juggled bottles of her breast milk and his phone. Coming back inside, Alan and Penny finished washing the night's dishes and retreated back to their bedrooms. The two women sank into the couch side-by-side, the flickering glow of the TV lighting their faces as a familiar sitcom played. They exchanged gossip about the lead actress, who recently had a scandal involving her co-star, a federal investigation, and a suspicious cabin outside Aspen. Time slipped by unnoticed; the sisterly bond between them was as tight as any day. And then Reine got a call from Philip: time to go. "Next week." Lyrou reaffirmed.

⚜

Evening Saturday, May 17th, 2025

When he arrived home, it was late, and he found Lyrou much as she’d found him before, contentedly on the couch, but reading one of her novels. "Honey, is all well here in the castle?"

Looking up from her book, a smile, "Château du Cœur, all is well, yes. Your date went well?"

"It was such an awesome date, you know what." Garin plopped next to Lyrou on the couch, his belly full and his muscles sore front and back, "I don't want to be young forever, or to live forever, but to have a young body until I depart would be my third wish for the genie. I'm starting to notice the rust begin to set in."

Lyrou closed her novel and set it aside. She slid closer to him, her hand tracing a line along his defined abs and giving his belly a pat. "You're not so old, mon amour," she said convincingly. "You still have the ageless strength and stamina of a.. vampire." She giggled. “I wouldn't reconfigure my face, as Reine might, but I’m considering a flesh-eating bacteria injection appointment.” Lyrou massaged the corners of her eyes vigorously as if it would iron out whatever fine wrinkles she claimed to have.

“Don’t.” Garin declined sternly.

Her hand traveled under his shirt and up to his chest, her thumb brushing through chest hair and over his heart. "Then forget it, as you wish; you’re the count of my castle."

Garin stroked Lyrou's hair and looked at the cover of the novel she’d set on the coffee table. "Vampires now?"

Lyrou's curiosity was piqued by his evasiveness. "My lord of the night, mon chouchou. Will you give a report?"

"A report?" Garin stayed her hand under his shirt, like a cat catching a submerged moving protrusion under its paw.

"Affirmatif, ma passionnée. Tell me about your date with Amina." Lyrou's hand slid to and fro under Garin's shirt.

"You only need to ask. We went indoor rock climbing, a class for beginners. She did well; I did better. It was excellent. Then we went to a Japanese restaurant; she’d never been to one where they do the whole performance making the food. I got a shrimp in the eye, and she caught it as it bounced and ate it. Little endearing things like that. Then we took the river-walk and talked and talked... and talked. Then I took her home, got a kiss. I'm sure we'll follow up with a second date. Ask more, ask everything, I’m unlocked." Garin closed his eyes and remembered Amina's face that day.

Lyrou was eager, "Tell me.. what did you talk about?"

Garin pressed his lips tight in thought, then said, "She’s at a law firm, under the wing of a real feared and renowned lawyer, her father. They represent hospitals, medical malpractice, surgical errors, and misconduct suits. So, I dug into that to show my interest in her life without getting too nosy with questions about her family or too serious with questions about her expectations of us, her and I. She's Lebanese... Maronite, came to the US as a kid. She tried teaching me a little Arabic. I dig it. I dig the whole thing. She's something, habibti."

Lyrou took a moment to look at Garin's face as he rested. "Garin, you're glowing," Lyrou said, a blend of curiosity and concern. "It's like you've found a new spark." She paused, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "Not that I'll be too angry, but is she better than me?"

Garin smiled and stated matter-of-factly, "She’s similar to you in a few ways. I don't know if she’s better than you, yet."

A slight shake to her voice, "When will you.. know?" 

"In the fullness of time, I'll have to make love to her first," Garin answered.

The weight and ease of his words flew across, nicking her neck like a dagger thrown by a sideshow performer. Lyrou's hand slid up his arm, her nails tracing circles on his skin as she processed his candidness. "My horny man," she began, full of curiosity and jealousy. "I know you find her intriguing." She leaned into him, her breasts pressing against his side. "I want you to be happy. Tell me, mon amour, what was it like to hold her hand?"

Garin exhaled, "Like taking the lever to catapult myself over the Bosphorus with nothing but a pair of wood-frame bat wings under me."

She interviewed him, "Do you remember when you first held my hand?"

Slowly nodding, "Acutely. We were at the Caribbean Carnival in Boston. I was a hypebeast Chad, a rare catch, and you were a basic babe posing as a glamour puss Stacy. But I had butterflies in my stomach just to talk to you, back then. Amidst the beating of steel drums, the smell of jerk chicken, feathered headdresses, twerking socas and hoolahooping Junkanoos, you stood toe-to-toe with me, and very boldly I took your right hand and then your left hand and pulled you into me. Then we broke our embrace and walked, but I kept your left hand and explored its shape, pressing your fingers and palm with mine. We only broke that hold so that I could do the ball-throwing game. I wanted to show off and win you a prize."

A soft smile, as Lyrou recalled it: "Yes," the memory of that day as vivid as if it had just happened. "And you won me a teddy bear, remember? I was swooned silly; it was like a movie."

"That wasn't just any ordinary teddy bear, basic babe. That was pedo bear." Garin opened his eyes wide, as if it were the most important thing he’d said all day.

"It wasn’t! Vous diffamez mon petit ours!" Lyrou gave Garin playful slaps on his chest and shoulder.

"You don't have that bear now, do you?" Garin wondered seriously.

"Of course I do." She leaned in, her hair falling over her face.

"No, no, no. You don't have him, because he was rounded up in a sting... he tried meeting..." Garin raised up to announce the scandal.

Lyrou sprang onto him, put her hands over Garin's mouth. "Don't besmirch my bear. I do have him. I do! Ce n'est pas un pervers!”

Garin and Lyrou tossed and laughed in their struggle on the couch until they came to rest entangled, her body on his.

Garin pulled open her blouse and tugged her bra up, exposing her nipple. “My first time with you, I had been staring down your cleavage for hours. You saw me looking, and looking, and looking, and looking, and you let me. You leaned over our table, you bent low to pick up the apartment keys you’d dropped, I think all to give me as many views as I could take. On that date you had me walking around in public with an erection, and anybody who saw me with you gave me telepathic grace for it. Like, we understand, brother.”

“I was topless with you before anything else had come off.” Lyrou surrendered to his sucking and licking while she undid him and found his cock in her grip.

“And I went for those mammaries, oh my God, I went for them. I wanted to be your baby and feed.” Precum ran off out his head-hole and lubed her grip.

“Will you devour Amina’s breast, on first reveal, as you did mine?’ She circled his cock with her thumb, his slick glans tickled by her nail.

“I might. No. I will.” He sucked her breast as she cranked his rod.

“I was just as eager to get you unwrapped, our first time.” Lyrou eyed his sack bouncing with each crank of her hand against his base.

“I put two in you, having taste-tested a tit for each of them.” Garin alternated between sucking on her breasts right-left-right.

“I want to relive that first time with you one more time.” Lyrou eased her grip, giving him a loose, wet, noisy hand fuck.

“And get pregnant all over again?” Garin grunted, getting close, his mouth opening wide and taking in as much of her breast as he could stuff his face with.

“I want to do it all over again.” With her free hand, she clasped the back of his head and pulled him tight to her bosom.

“Does that include the cheating?” he murmured, her nipple between his lips.

“Garin.” She pounded his cock in her hand hard and fast; they blurred together.

He spurt, his cum shooting off in the dim light somewhere they didn’t care to find it. He lay beside her, and they kissed for a moment, until they were just looking silently into each other’s eyes.

Lyrou looked at Garin's half-asleep face, so close and warm. She wished to kiss him, but didn't for fear of waking him. She slid away from under his arms and fetched him a throw blanket. Bent over to look at him closely, she mouthed the word, "You."

⚜