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Floating in an inflatable lounge in the pool, a sparkly purple insulated tumbler in hand, I sigh along with the breeze through the bushes and trees, feeling the subdued late afternoon sun caress my bare skin. I’m lured into a half doze by the ever-romantic sound of brushes on cymbals and slow saxophone dripping from my earbuds, and I can’t help a smile to myself as I allow the wine in my system to relax my every muscle. This goes on for half an hour before I tip my big red sunglasses down my nose and stare over at my fourth husband as he’s similarly lounging, reading under an umbrella on the patio not too far from my silently drifting float. He’s only wearing his cerulean blue bathing trunks and a faraway expression.
“Kenny,” I say, immediately giving him a slight start. I smile and beckon with one finger. “Come here, Sir.”
He sits up, holding his page as he blinks at me. “Oh, do you need a refill of rosé, love?”
I shake my head, but then I shake my tumbler, find it sounds like mostly ice. “Yeah, but, no— that’s not why I want you.”
Ken winks, grabs the open bottle from the ice bucket beside him as he walks around his chair and strolls toward the pool’s edge. “I’ll top you up anyway, darling.”
I use one hand to feebly paddle toward him, and his smile grows the closer I get. In anticipation, he sits down and dips his feet into the water, then reaches for my outstretched hand.
He takes my tumbler, twists it open and gives me a good healthy pour. “What did you really want me for, then?”
I take off my shades and pat his knee with my wet hand, staring up at him longingly. “I want you to come in, cool off with me a bit,” I say, then press my earbud to stop the music. “I haven’t spent enough time with you lately and I miss you.”
With a cheeky grin, he hands me my tumbler and sets down the bottle beside him. “I’ll just go find myself a lounger as well—”
“No, no, just get in. Please?”
“Alright I’ll get in,” he says, chuckling as he carefully lowers himself over the edge, slipping in beside my float. “You want me to paddle you around a bit?”
I grasp his shoulder and awkwardly roll to one side so I can steal a quick kiss. “No, I just wanted to do that.”
He blushes, leans closer, holding my float close so he can return the favor. His lips are overwarm and pliant, his beard smells vaguely of the Irish whisky he had been sipping earlier.
I smile out of the kiss, stroke his cheek as I hold his gaze. “So dang sexy. Just like in the movie last night.”
“Cheers, Madam,” he replies, squeezing my arm. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. It was an absolute honor and a lark to finally work with the great Meryl Streep.”
“And I’m sure she was just as honored to work with you. Everyone was perfect in it. And you were handsome as fuck.”
He tilts his head, rubs his beard. “Oh, is that why you still keep me around, then?”
I nod, pretend to give it a long think. “Yeah, pretty much. You’re my reliable old stud. Also I love you.”
His face softens, his cool blue eyes glittering and he takes my tumbler from my hand, sets it aside on the pool’s edge, then turns back to me and tugs me off my lounger, making me squeal with the unexpected splash into his arms. He kisses my neck, my jaw, my chin and my lips, assertively claiming my entire being with his hands and mouth. I giggle and wriggle in his slippery limbs, but soon relent, allowing him to give me exactly what I had been craving.
This time, when he smiles out of the kiss, he whispers, “I don’t suppose you’d like me to perform any particular duty at the moment, Madam?”
“Oh Kenny Ken, you know your job all too well.”
**************
The better part of an hour later, we’re cradled together in the narrow space afforded the plush sofa inside the poolhouse, dozing in naught but our skin and our bath towels. The only sound is the grotto waterfall pouring into the pool outside, the only light whatever slices between the edges of the closed horizontal blinds. For a few minutes it feels as if we’re the last people on Earth.
At one point I blink open my eyes and take a long, deep, satisfying breath, then nuzzle my husband’s neck as I rub his bare chest. There’s a smile on his placid face, and I study his beautifully familiar profile. I am all at once overcome with both adoration and the acknowledgement of all his imperfections, and I feel tears slide along my eyelids.
Just then, Ken yawns softly and turns his head toward me, kisses my forehead. “Hmmm, that was a rather naughty little tryst,” he mumbles, the tips of his fingers tracing a long line from my temple down my cheek, my neck, and along my collarbone until his hand falls upon my shoulder, massaging it tenderly.
I smile and tilt my head back so I can kiss his stubbly jaw. “We haven’t done any shower-related lovesport for a long while,” I whisper, then with more emphasis: “I missed you. I missed this.”
Ken meets my gaze, cups my cheek in his palm, his thumb slowly rubbing my cheekbone. I recognize that old familiar diamond thread of love weaving through the fabric of his visage, sparkling strong. “Darling, I’m always here.”
I smile, feeling more tears well up as I hug him more tightly. “I love you so much, Sir.”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he says, his smile one inch from a grin.
I kiss his lips chastely, but at length, then slide one hand to his face. “Thank you for rescuing me all those years ago. I never properly told you that and I owe you so much.”
“Do you, though?” Ken asks, genuinely bemused. “I was under the impression that Tommy Lee had more to do with your rehabilitation—”
“Well, yes, of course he played a huge part, but so did you. You were there first, after all. You and Stephen, first on the scene, tugging me out of the morass of my heartbreak.”
“My dearest Madam, lovely, you don’t owe me a thing. I should thank you for always defending me.”
“Oh Kenny, you make it sound like that’s a full-time job,” I say, rolling my eyes a little. “Loving and defending you is not hard. But loving me, on the other hand—”
“Now, Madam, I won’t hear anyone speak ill of my wife, especially not you,” he says with his usual earnestness. “Sure, we’ve evolved through the years with a growing Manse family, with all its challenges and dramas, but being your husband has never been anything but a blessing and a bash, and I’ll have you know that deep down, with no doubts.”
I frown but I nod. “I trust your word on that.”
“You best be,” he says, half chastising, but then he smiles and winks. “And you best believe all your other husbands feel the same way.” He picks up my hand and kisses my knuckles like the gentleman he is. “And we’re all very chuffed about your latest little one. Do you still not yet know what we should expect?”
My heart glows and my face heats up. “Yes, actually we just found out… it’s a girl.”
The grin arises then, and he kisses both my cheeks. “Oh, congratulations, that’s wonderful! Keep this up and the Manse women will outnumber us men soon enough!”
“Pfft, from your lips to God’s ears,” I say, really rolling my eyes this time. “There are no plans for a whole army of kiddos, you best believe that.”
Ken chuckles, kisses my mouth, winks again. “I rather think I know that, love, I’m just having you on. Besides, I find you irresistible when you’ve just had the piss taken out of you.”
“What, Ken, seriously?”
His voice goes up an octave as he continues to chuckle. “Yes, you are so passionate when you’re all riled that I can’t resist. You’re like a flustered little chipmunk.”
“Oh wow, thanks,” I say, pretending to be in a huff.
Ken laughs, pushes himself up to sitting and tugs me up with him, hugging me ever closer. “Oh, darling, I love to just engulf you when you’re like this, you know. You’re just buzzing with a sweetly righteous anger and I find it electrifying.” His arms squeeze with a sudden, upgraded strength and he kisses my temple. “Never ever change, Madam.”
I let out a big sigh. “I don’t know if I can promise that, really. I’m a big believer that we have the potential to get better at things, grow wiser and more virtuous as we get older.”
“Yes, I agree wholeheartedly. If you want to change for the better, I’m all for it. That’s the one thing I’ll allow you to change if you want to. I certainly hope I’ve managed to improve over the decades, but I’ve probably gotten worse in some ways, as well.”
“You’ve improved, trust me,” I insist as I pet his chest. “You’re more affable, more generous and patient with people. You’ve always been a workaholic, but you’re happy to be busy, and seem grateful for it. Maybe you’re more creaky, more prone to a little whinge, but otherwise, I think you’re fine.”
He shrugs but grins. “I appreciate you saying that, love. You have a point there.”
“I sometimes wish I could be more like you but I’m not a natural performer. I don’t have the extroversion at all.”
“I’ve noticed,” he says, kissing my hand again. “But that’s perfectly fine. That’s your way. And I celebrate it.”
“And I celebrate your way,” I say, kissing his neck. I sniff his skin, wish I could disappear into this feeling of stability and comfort forever. It’s not the first time I’ve daydreamed about only being married to one husband, and the thought always gives me mixed feelings. “If you ever change, Ken, just… give me some warning. I love you just fine.”