PG-13

Someone Else has a horrible fear of coitus interruptus. I do not know what scarring thing happened to the poor creature in a past life, but the fear goes deep and has always been there.

The Venue of Choice must always be thoroughly vetted for cats; the felines chased firmly away. The door must be closed...nay! not simply closed, but barred with a piece of furniture, lest a small person rise from a deep sleep, grandma suddenly springs through the front door, or aliens invade.

Rian, being Rian, finds this quirk an amusing personal challenge: "Come, my heart. Surely we might christen the servants' stairs this afternoon!"

But that is a story for another day, yes?

This morning, we were alone in the house, Aidan off with a sleep-over for his visiting cousins. The cats deeply asleep somewhere else. The sun barely spreading over the windows sils. There was no need to vet for felines or block the bedroom door with a heavy leather chair. No need for bitten pillows or muffled amusement.

Rian and Someone Else were quite well on the way to ReAquaintance when the telephone rang.

"Ignore it, love." Rian said, snickering into an elbow.

So. We did. Only.

It rang again. And again.

We are, often, good parents. Three calls one immediatly after another means the babysitter. Or an alien invasion.

"Yes, mom." Someone Else said into the telephone, thoroughly disgruntled. "I'll come and get him right away."

Rian, satisfactorily stroked, laughed the entire way down the hall and through a hot shower.

Someone Else spent the morning sulking. No wonder the poor creature is scarred.