The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1435 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I watched Simon sleep for a while, it was amazing how he could in view of the stressful nature of his work and his neurotic wife, who not only saddles him with more children than he can count, she then accuses him of causing her to have too much money. She’ll have to go if he wants peace of mind rather than a piece of her mind.

I gently stroked his hairy chest–it wasn’t very hairy compared to some of the pictures you see of men who look like a cross between gorillas and bears, but it was enough to remind me of the difference between men and women–my chest was quite small for a biological male–and somehow I’d managed to grow myself quite a pair of breasts, which had grown some more since I’d began breast feeding baby Catherine. Sometimes when I looked at them in the mirror, it looked like they had large veins in them and I wondered if I could get varicose veins of the boobs?

Simon stirred a little and I kissed him on the cheek, he smiled a big beaming smile before turning over and facing away from me. I snuggled into the back of him and fell asleep smelling his body

I woke some hours later with something tapping against my hand–it was his morning um–I could feel myself blushing–anyway, his erectile tissue midway between his knees and his waist–well, you know what I mean.

“I need a pee,” he said jumping from the bed, “and your hand isn’t going to make that any easier.”

I hadn’t deliberately set out to touch his doodah, my hand just ended up there while we slept. I was still quite tired and couldn’t face the thought of sex first thing in the morning so I got up and began dressing to make his breakfast. He came back into the bedroom–“Wattaya doing?”

“Getting dressed, so I can get you some breakfast.”

“Not yet, I’ve got a day off today–so c’mon back to bed.”

“You’ve got a day off?”

“Yeah, so c’mon back to bed–nudge nudge, wink wink know what I mean, squire.”

I wasn’t going to face a full five minutes of Monty Python sketches, so I went to the bathroom and then sneaked downstairs when he wasn’t looking, and switched the kettle on. I was standing facing the work top with my eyes shut, almost asleep when a pair of hands went round my waist and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I was still shaking when I realised it was Simon and he hugged me as I wept.

“Hey, silly, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I know,” I sniffed, but it still upset me.

He sat me at the table and finished making the tea. “What brought this on?” he asked placing a mug of tea in front of me while he sat opposite.

I felt even more stupid–I didn’t know what made me upset–I just was, not having slept very well didn’t help either.

“You sure you’re not coming on?”

I looked blearily at him, some days he made little sense other days he made none at all. Today seemed like one of the latter. “Coming on what?”

“You know, coming on.”

“On what?” I repeated.

“Your period,” he rolled his eyes skywards as if you silently ask for strength.

“Ha ha, very funny.” I said then burst into tears.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it then? You know damn well I can’t have them.”

“Keep your voice down, unless you want the kids up this early.”

“What time is it, then?” I couldn’t see the clock.

“Five.”

“Not again.”

“Not what again?”

“I seem to wake up at five most mornings.”

“Well, c’mon drink your tea and let’s go back to bed–I know a way to make you sleepy.”

“Is that all you men think about, bloody sex?”

“I wasn’t actually thinking about that–I was going to read to you.”

“Read? Read what?”

“This book on hypnosis I found.”

“Hypnosis?”

“Yeah, it’s called something like, How to make every woman love you.

“You haven’t got a book like that, have you?”

“No, but it was worth it to see your face when I said it.”

“Were you going to read to me?”

“Yep, from, A History of British Banking.”

“You’re right, it probably would send me to sleep–who’s interested in subjects like that?”

“Um–bankers, economists, historians, general readers–how would I know?”

“So who wrote it some stuffed shirt professor while he was stuck up his ivory tower?”

“Yeah–got it in one.”

“Oxford or Cambridge?”

“He went to Edinburgh actually.”

“Oh–big deal.”

“And you’ve met him.”

“Wow–I’m sure I’d remember him if I had.”

“You would.”

“I don’t know any historians.”

“Yes you do.”

“Who?” I challenged him.

“My dad for starters.”

“Yeah, well he’s hardly going to write a book about bloody banking is he?”

“Why not? He’s a banker.”

“He’s too busy banking or whatever you call it when he runs a bank.”

“Chairing? Managing? Leading?”

“Yeah–that sort of stuff.”

“Writing a book?” continued Simon.

“He’d hardly have time would he?”

“He must have done.”

“How d’you know that?”

“Because it’s his book.”

“What he lent you his copy?”

“No–he wrote the bloody thing–okay.”

“You’re joking?”

“No I’m not–he wrote the book–why d’ya think I’m reading it?”

“Because you’re a banker?”

“You must be joking–it’s as dry as dust a subject as you can find.”

“Oh–so why are you reading it then?”

“He gave me a copy and asked me to let him know what I thought of it.”

“Oh, and what do you think of it?”

“I haven’t actually opened it yet.”

“So you don’t really know if it is that dry, do you?”

“It came with a free bottle of water.”

“Really?”

“No, you daft bitch,” he shook his head–okay, so I’m gullible and a bit dim, especially when I haven’t slept very much.

I yawned and felt like more tears would come but they didn’t until I yawned again my eyes watered and I had to wipe them.

“C’mon, I know just the thing to make you sleep.”

“A good relaxing rub down.”

“I don’t want sex, I already told you that.”

“I wasn’t offering any, I’m still sore from last night,” he said almost causing me to fall off my chair.

“So what’s in it for you?”

“Pleasing my wife, seeing her relax and sleep–knowing she’s enjoying it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Never more so.”

Now I did feel confused; nevertheless, I did go back upstairs with him and stripped off and he did massage me with lavender oil, which was heavenly–apart from the smell, which isn’t my favourite. He was quite correct, I did fall asleep and didn’t hear him get up to see to the kids.

At eleven o’clock, he brought me up a cup of tea and told me he thought I ought to get up now because he was taking us all out for lunch, and I should look like an aristocrat’s wife, especially as his children were making the effort.

I pinched myself quite hard–damn, I bet that’ll bruise now–but he was still standing there holding the cuppa. I hadn’t dreamt it, including the bit about the book, because that was on the bed and it was by pa in law. I must be delirious or crazy.