Lessons in Pleasure
When she dared a look at James’s face, she found his brow falling into a deep frown. “I never thought . . .” he murmured. “That sounds horrid, Sarah.”
“No, it wasn’t horrid! It was only a change, and you have been lovely and patient and
kind. And if it hadn’t been you . . . if it hadn’t been you, James, I would’ve been afraid and lost.
“But it was you,” she said when he looked as if he would interrupt. “And now I know who I am again. I am Sarah. I am your wife. And I love you.”
James did not answer. He only stared down at their clasped hands, with his mouth set in a flat line.
Love and fear pulsed through Sarah’s veins. She had said too much, revealed something that might hurt him. “James?”
“I am thinking what I could do to help you adjust. I am trying to imagine how it would feel to give up my home and family and habits and start anew with a virtual stranger.”
Sarah could not help but smile at that. He was hardly a stranger anymore. The fear left her, dissipating through her skin and disappearing entirely.
She kissed his shoulder, but he didn’t look up. “The strangest thing was that I had never been allowed to even be alone with a man, and suddenly . . .” She smiled at him when he glanced up, a pained expression on his face. “Suddenly I was expected to be very alone with a man, if you understand my meaning.”
James cringed. “I think I do.”
“But I have come to realize that the best solution for strangeness is complete immersion.”
“Immersion?”
“Yes. If you truly wish to help me adjust . . . ?”
His eyes grew warmer at her tone and flickered down the sheet that hid her body. “Oh, I most certainly do.”
“Then I believe if you would focus your attentions on only my most pressing anxieties . . .”
James leaned a little closer and idly wrapped one hand into a trailing edge of the sheet. “My God, Mrs. Hood. You are a genius. Pray tell, what is your most aching concern?”
Sarah nodded, trying to look solemn even as she blushed to the roots of her hair. “I am wondering . . .”
“Yes?” When he shifted, the sheet wrapped around her bosom became precariously loose.
“I understand that a husband has certain needs . . .”
His hand moved beneath the edge of the linen, and his fingers spread wide over her naked knee. “Oh, yes,” he answered, voice a little lower than it had been. “Definite needs.”
“But I’ve read several books on the subject, and it’s not clear . . .”
“Hm?” His thumb slipped higher, feathering against her thigh.
“Just how often”—she had to pause to draw a breath—“those needs might arise.”
“Ah,” James sighed sympathetically. “Poor wife, kept so thoroughly in the dark. Perhaps a demonstration would make it most clear?”
When he nuzzled her shoulder, the sheet finally gave up its hold and fell away. He bent his head immediately to his task.
“Oh, yes,” Sarah gasped. “A demonstration.”
He proved over the next few hours that a man’s needs might arise quite often between husband and wife. And Sarah proved herself a quick student of her new role.