Who the hell wouldn’t want that? At least for one hour a week?Forty-five minutes went by quickly. And just as it was up, I heard familiar sounds at ...ur back-porch door. Nails scraping on glass, light whimpers punctuated by occasional barks. Gunther, our black lab. Good timing, boy.“Hey, babe,” I called. She was in the bathroom, scrubbing the bathtub. “I think the place is clean enough. Don’t you?”My wife replied with an uh-huh that was partly words, partly a moan. She’d started our session. ”“That is wonderful Frances. I always thought there was something special about you and Reg’s other women, but now I know what it is, at its basic level: appreciation of people for who they are, inside. I wish my boy... – my ex-boyfriend realised that.”“Oh, what did he think?”“He thought that you, Reg and the others were weird people. He couldn’t understand what I liked about my job with you. He really was short-sighted, wasn’t he, Frances?”“He definitely was a lad with blinkers, Sandra. It is. More

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