Holiday romance

They wake early – before anyone else. He goes into the shower. She follows him. They make love, briefly, wetly.

They all share a breakfast which he prepares as she reads with the girl. The youngster goes out to play with a friend nearby. They talk about the day ahead, he goes to exercise, she phones some of her friends. She checks on the child, who is busy and happy. They make love quickly, using the kitchen table.

The family goes to the beach; walks, plays, suns, laughs. Sand everywhere. They swim together, though the water is still quite cool. He admires her figure. She admires his bum, but doesn’t say so. No point in making him big-headed. They stay on the beach into the evening, a barbecue, some wine, music, more laughter. She gets a bit frisky, teases him, gets a little heated.

Back at the house they all shower in turn and change; girl in pyjamas, him in shorts and t-shirt, her in a long light dress/nightdress. Nobody bothers with underwear.

At last girl goes to bed. Reluctant at first, she falls into a deep sleep fairly quickly, tired out by the day. They sit together on the veranda looking out to the sea, listening to the subdued sound of the waves, feeling the evening breeze.  She exposes herself to him; he responds in a suitable manner.

They sit in companionable quiet conversation, frequently interrupted by moments of comfortable silence. At last, feeling the day catch up with them, too, they retire to bed. Somehow he still has the energy and the means, so they make love again, slowly, gently, no urgency.

It occurs to her as she drifts off, his head nestled into her hair, arm draped across her; yes, this is romance.