Richard Poole was the happiest he could ever remember being as he kissed his way down Camille's naked body, moving his hands in a carefully choreographed counterpoint to his lips. She squirmed and muttered something incoherent in French as he found a particularly sensitive spot. Over the last few days, he had discovered that she often spoke French when aroused. He had suggested that he take some French lessons so that he would understand what she was saying but she had laughed, saying,

'You won't learn those words in lessons.'

None the less, Richard knew that he would now have to learn French. Not making the effort to learn your lover's language when she spoke yours was very impolite. Particularly when your lover had been very understanding about your initial incompetence. Richard was embarrassed to admit it, but his first efforts at lovemaking had been frankly incompetent. Camille had forgiven him and some research on the internet combined with feedback from Camille had dramatically improved matters. Particularly the information on erogenous zones; who would have thought that women's body's were so complicated? Thinking about his research reminded him of a question he'd been meaning to ask so he paused and said,

'Camille, does your mother have multiple orgasms?'

There was a moment of silence then Camille said,

'What?'

'Does your mother have multiple orgasms?'

Richard looked up to find Camille looking at him in stunned disbelief. After a few seconds she said,

'Why would I know the answer to that? And why are you asking, Richard?'

'Well, I was hoping that, you know, eventually, I… I mean, you… might and I wondered if there was a… a genetic component…'

Camille looked at Richard with amused exasperation,

'You have got to stop looking things up on the internet. To answer your question: I don't know and I'm not going to ask and if you want us to carry on making love on a regular basis, never mention my mother during sex again.'

'But I thought you and your mother were close.'

'We are but there are some things that I never want to know about her. How would you feel if I asked you about your father's sexual habits? Perhaps I should ask you how many times a week he likes to have sex?'

Richard shuddered and said,

'That's very disturbing.'

'Exactly.'

Camille waited for a few seconds to make sure that her point had hit home before pulling him back up her body and kissing him passionately. Within minutes, she was writhing beneath him again, all thoughts of parents banished from her mind and Richard was trying to stay focussed as his desire grew exponentially with every moan from Camille. Eventually, he lost the capacity for coherent thought and there was just Camille and him and the passion that they felt for each other.

Later, Richard lay looking at the ceiling as Camille slept soundly beside him, one arm pinning him to the bed. If anyone had asked him a few months ago, he would have said that having someone's arm across his body whilst he was sleeping would be unendurable but because it was Camille's arm, it made him feel happy. As he thought about Camille and how beautiful and intelligent she was, the problem that he'd been pushing away came back and no matter how hard he tried to pretend that it didn't apply, he knew that it did. Sighing, he decided to start the correct procedure first thing in the morning.

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