“We have to stop meeting like this.”

“You love it. Now put this on.”

I eyed the white dress hanging on the end of Pat’s finger. “I’m not sure it’ll fit.”

“Oh, criminy. Don’t act like you’re dragging a trolley around.”

I blushed, spinning my arse toward the mirror and running a hand over my dress to show off the curve. “It’s deceptively large, Pat.”

“Julia, I’ve had two children,” Pat scoffed.

“And it doesn’t show.”

She huffed. “Put the bloody dress on, would you?”

I snatched the dress out of her hand and went behind the dressing screen in the corner of the guest room.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a tennis dress, love,” she piped.

“Why’s that?” I asked, voice muffled through the fabric of the dress as I pulled it over my head.

“Oh, you just give off that sort of tennis playing girl feeling. Don’t you think?”

I was not about to admit that I played quite a bit in school. I’d given up the sport altogether while I was with Nick. I hated being stuck with the girlfriends and wives of his barrister friends who were mostly vapid (and that, I thought, was a rather generous assessment). “I feel like that’s not a compliment.”

“No! Of course it is. You’re very elegant. Posh, even.”

I groaned. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m only telling you what’s true.”

I straightened out the dress before coming out from behind the screen.

“Oh, Julia, you look darling.”

I turned to look in the mirror. It did fit rather nicely, showing off my assets, but also the pudge of my arms I didn’t particularly like. I pulled at the fabric to lay flatter on my stomach. “Posh is how I’d describe my mother.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I laughed. “It is.” My mother was the textbook definition of the word, made even worse by the fact we were not wealthy by any means, but right on the cusp of upper middle class, which made her feel entitled to pretension. “Well, I guess it’ll do.”

“Yes, more than do.” Pat came up behind me and fluffed out the skirt. “You should keep it. Looks better on you than me.”

“You know, if John had given me some forewarning this would be happening, I’d –”

“Don’t be too upset with him. The planning was very last minute, what with the children and John – my John – he always bristles against leaving for too long, the blessed thing. And plus there was the whole issue of Miranda and –”

My ears perked up. I hadn’t heard that name in quite some time. “Miranda?”

Pat’s eyes widened innocently. “Oh yes, I had planned on inviting her. An extended date for John. Thought I’d try again with her since things didn’t seem to…work out between you.”

I blinked. “Why didn’t you then?”

Pat smiled. “Well, John told me he wasn’t interested.”

“Oh.”

“Said he was preoccupied in…other ways,” Pat said with a waggle of her eyebrows.

Immediately, I was struck with ire. Didn’t John know the old adage ‘loose lips sink ships’? “He told you?! Are you serious?”

“No, he didn’t. But you just did.”

I gaped and tried to recover, but all that came out of my mouth was stuttering nothingness.

“To be fair, John isn’t the best at keeping a secret when he’s had champagne. I had to suspect when we were at Jimmy’s and I asked after you and instead of answering he just giggled.”

I balled my hands into fists.

“Julia,” Pat said in a girlish drawl, leaning her arm on my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I wanted to tell her the honest truth: that it felt too complicated to tell. If I had thought Montreux was hard to explain, the past month would have been even more difficult.

Though I desperately clung onto the days leading up to John’s departure, my fingernails left no marks in the passage of time. Between managing the girls and balancing my emotions whilst also providing my usual ministry toward John (physically, emotionally, desperately), time was not on my side and before I knew it, it was the first day of school.

It helped that everyone was in good spirits. I could smile along, laugh, and enjoy life the way we had been in those twilight days of summer.

When I was alone with Annie, though, I was able to divulge my fears and secrets. She had either gotten over her resentment or pitied me enough to lend me an ear. Either way, I was grateful for it. I needed somewhere to pour out my feelings. I couldn’t taint John’s excitement and delight at the idea of “getting back at it”, as he put it.

It still didn’t make much sense to me after all the time he’d spent avoiding being goaded into returning to the madness of Zeppelin. But I had no place to question it.

I was just the lover.

Although…it was not lost on John that our time together was waning. He was exceptionally attentive when he could be. The moment we returned home from dropping the girls off for their first day of the school year, he shepherded me into the studio to sate his growing desire.

“Tomorrow…” he muttered. A cigarette hung from his mouth as he lazily buttoned up his shirt.

“Tomorrow, what?” I asked, moving at a much more sluggish pace, having to recover from being ruthlessly shagged.

John tugged his belt closed. “Bonzo and Pat are going to be popping by.”

I widened my eyes. “Popping by?”

“Relax, Julia.” He handed me his cigarette as he headed over to the piano. He was moving awfully fast these days. “Pat’s been nagging me for a visit and since we’ll be heading out on Wednesday, it just made sense for them to come down a day early. Then we can take off together.”

I took a drag of the cigarette, picking up my underwear from the floor. John began to play a tune as if I wasn’t even in the room. “They’ll be spending the night?”

His eyes flicked up to me and he smiled. “Yes. You’ll have to be on your best behavior.”

I suddenly felt exposed with my sleeve hanging off my shoulder. I readjusted it and rested my elbows on my knees. “I haven’t spoken to Pat since we were in Montreux.”

“She won’t hold it against you. You’ve been preoccupied.”

 I giggled. “I suppose so.”

John’s playing paused. He jerked his head toward the bench. “Come sit.”

I ashed the cigarette and went to the piano, sitting tentatively on the bench next to him. The studio was cleaner than it had been, mostly because I’d forced him to tidy up. No clothing on chairs or errant stacks of records.

John went back to playing, something quieter. “You’re off, Julia.” 

I raised my eyebrows.

“You think I haven’t noticed.”

I couldn’t respond because it was true. Perhaps I had misjudged him.

“Are you scared?”

I chewed on my lower lip and nodded, unwilling to answer him verbally.

“Because I’m leaving?”

A child. I felt like a child as he tried to coax out an answer from me. “I’ll be fine,” I said with a deep breath, forcing a smile.

John stopped playing again. He didn’t look up from the keys.

I had considered that I should ask. But I was always too afraid to utter those words. If I asked where we were going, I was worried John wouldn’t know or, worse, decide “nowhere” was the answer. “I don’t want you to worry,” I said, softly touching his wrist. “I know it will be hard for you to be away from the girls.”

This wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t my truth.

“Yes, but I know the feeling. I’m not looking forward to it, but I remember it somewhat,” John replied. He turned his hand over and interlaced his fingers with mine. “Besides, I know they’re in good hands.”

My heart sang. I would take every win I could, even if it wasn’t the thing I needed. It was better than nothing. “I’ll take good care of them.”

John started to trace his fingers along the back of my hand. “Is that what you need to hear? That I am confident you’ll take good care of them?”

I needed to hear so much more than that. But I could not bring myself to ask. “That’d be nice.”

He smiled. “I am confident that you’ll take good care of my girls.” Then, he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it. “I trust you completely.”

I leaned my head onto his shoulder. “How far we’ve come.”

“Very far. And you better get out of here before either of us ‘comes’ any farther,” he said, pushing me away playfully, hand against my sternum.

I laughed and tumbled off the bench to my feet. We both had work to do. John started playing again as I headed for the door but spoke before I could slip out. “You don’t happen to have a tennis skirt, do you?”

I turned around with a bewildered look. “Pardon me?”

“A tennis skirt. For tomorrow.”

“What do you mean a tennis skirt for tomorrow?”

“We’ll be playing tennis tomorrow per Pat’s request. Naturally, you’ll need a tennis skirt.”

This man left me more and more speechless by the minute.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” John stopped playing and notated something on the sheet music in front of him. “It’s no matter. I’ll tell Pat to bring something for you.”

“Right. Tennis.”

“Don’t get in your head, Julia,” John teased with a smirk.

“Not in my head at all.” Very much in my head, thank you for noticing. I opened the door and said wryly, “In fact, if you’d refer to me as Billie Jean King for the rest of the day, I’d much appreciate it.”

John laughed, “Alright, Billie Jean. If Battle of the Sexes is what you want, it’s what you’ll get.”

Now, here I was in Pat’s white tennis dress, having shown my whole hand to her because I didn’t see through her trickery. “I don’t know. It’s very tender.”

“So, didn’t anything happen at Montreux?”

I rolled my eyes. “Pat –”

“If you don’t answer the question, I’m just going to assume, you know.”

I smiled at the memory of that first kiss.

Pat batted me on the arm. “You little tart! You know how badly I’ve felt all this time thinking I’ve made things awkward, and it turns out you were just being secretive?”

“I’m sorry,” I said through laughter. “I’m sorry, you know, it’s just so…tender.”

“Tender sounds perfect.”

“Yes, but that’s not how I mean. I mean that it’s tenuous.” Tender and tenuous.

Pat narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know where you stand, then.”

“God, you’re good.”

She shrugs. “Just been around the block. You know I’m awfully old.”

I didn’t know how old she was but “awfully” was not how I’d describe it.

“Anyway.” She gave me her arm to take and guided me out of the guest room. “We’ll figure out where you stand today. Mark my words.”

“Don’t do anything stupid or obvious, Pat. We’ve never been around other people. I’m sure we’re going to pretend like nothing has been happening at all.”

Pat snickered. “Please, it doesn’t take a genius to spot two people who want to tear each other’s clothes off pretending they don’t want to tear each other’s clothes off.”  Then, she tossed her blonde hair back and sniffed. “Besides. I’m not obvious.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.             

The two of us tittered and made our way out to the terrace where the Johns were waiting in similarly matching white tennis sets.

“Aren’t you two adorable?” Pat exclaimed and bounced over to Bonzo, leaping into his lap and spreading her hand across his broad chest. “Just suits you, I think.”

“Don’t lie. I look like a meringue,” Bonzo grumbled.

She patted her hand on his stomach. “Don’t be silly.”

John was standing near the edge of the terrace, his foot up on a stone to tie one of his shoes. I was avoiding looking at him to hopefully put on an air of distance, although that seemed rather silly considering three of the four of us knew what was going on. And it was doubtful Pat hadn’t been talking to her husband about it.

So we’re just going to posture until someone keels over and dies, are we?

“Well, shall we?” Pat asked excitedly.

“If we must,” Bonzo said, pushing himself up to standing with her still in his arms.

She laughed and squirmed out of his arms. “Oh, no you don’t.” She picked up their racket bag from the table. She really could have been at Wimbledon. The whole look suited her. “Let’s go.”

Bonzo followed his wife off the terrace toward the tennis court.

Strings of a racket entered my visions. “Got one for you.”

I followed the contour of the racket, held by a hand I knew so well, up his arm, and finally, looked into John’s sapphire eyes. “Thank you,” I said, delicately taking the racket from him.

John glanced at the court where Pat was already practicing her swing and Bonzo was imitating her. This was met with riotous laughter from her. “You look nice.”

“John.”

“What? I mean it, the little skirt,” John teasingly glanced down at my bottom, “suits you.”

I sighed. “That’s not…Pat already knows about…” I crooked my finger and gestured between the two of us.

John feigned shock. “What? Did you tell her?”

“I said nothing.” One little white lie wouldn’t hurt. “Apparently you spilled the beans while you were drunk on champagne at Jimmy’s.”

I started for the tennis court; John quickly caught up with my stride. “Now, just a second. I did not ‘spill the beans’. I did nothing of the sort.”

“How would you remember if you were so drunk?”

“I’d certainly remember if I told people about –” John mocked the earlier move of my finger.

“Don’t move your finger like that at me!”

“You did it first!” 

“Yoo-hoo!” Pat called out, waving her hand excitedly. “Are you going to just stand there gawking at each other or come play?”

“We’re coming! Goodness, you’re as impatient as a calf on a tit!” I shouted at her.

Bonzo guffawed. “Yes, that’s about right.”

I touched my mouth softly, mortification setting in.

“Calf on a tit, mm?” John asked with a humored waggle of his eyebrows. 

“Sometimes the farm just comes out,” I grumbled. “Especially when I’m annoyed.”

“Julia…” he admonished. “Don’t be cross with me.” Then, to my surprise, he wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled me close. “If they know, they know. Makes it more fun, doesn’t it?” He capped off his public display with a soft kiss to my cheek.

I was stunned. I was absolutely ready to disdain him for a long while before I had to be my sweet self. Now, he was kissing me out in the open.

“Let’s have some fun before I go, shall we?”

He was smoother than butter and yet I was the one melting.

“Fine,” I replied and kissed him again, this time on the lips. If he wanted to have fun, I wasn’t taking any prisoners.

From the court, I could hear the hollers of the Bonhams. Brought me back to my school days when everyone was daring one another to kiss over an empty bottle of ale.

“By the way, those suit you,” I said, eyeballing the tiny white shorts doing a poor job of concealing his package.

I walked away before he could respond, wiping my lips clean of his spit. “You didn’t see any of that,” I said to Pat as I approached her.

 Her eyes gleamed. “Definitely not.” She popped her hip up against mine. “What do you think? Mixed doubles?”

“No, no, I promised Julia a battle of the sexes and that’s what it will be,” John announced, swinging his racket over his shoulder as he brushed by me. “Johns against Janes, come on, mate.” He patted Bonzo on the chest and the two walked to the other side of the court.

“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, aren’t they?” Pat murmured.

She had a point. Big lumbering John and the smaller, more skittering John. A dynamic duo, an attraction of opposites. I hadn’t seen them play, but I’d heard. You’d be daft not to recognize their enigmatic fusion, full of power and nuance, neither one ever too much or too little.

Perhaps it had been predetermined by their biology.

“We’re serving first!” Pat cried out.

“Ladies first,” Bonzo conceded without any fuss.

Pat prodded my hip with her racket. “Want to serve, or should I?”

“You do it. I’m too rusty. Need to warm up.” I moved to the front of the court.

John and Bonzo mirrored us, John taking the front of the court and Bonzo the back. I got myself in a ready position and gave John a sly smile. “Best of luck.”

He blew me a kiss, sticking the racket out in front of him.

Game on.

“Alright, boys! Watch out!” Pat cried out before throwing the ball upward and elegantly serving the ball over the net, the pop of the tennis ball echoing over the court.

The ball went straight to Bonzo who crudely volleyed it back to me. I backhanded it over the net, right past John, quite literally sending him back in a tailspin; that’s all it took to earn us the first point.

“Rusty, are you?” Pat cackled.

I cocked my hip to the side and smiled. “Some say it’s like riding a bicycle.”

“Or riding something else, eh?”

We both snickered. This was going to be fun.

It quickly became apparent that I had no reason to be worried about my rustiness. Not only was Pat an adept partner, but our opponents were as laughable as the Three Stooges. Practically a slapstick routine how big and little John tripped over one another, darting back and forth, nearly running smack into one another and the ball bumbling between them.

“For God’s sake, could you try at all?” Pat cried out when we'd just surpassed them at forty-love. 

“You takin’ the piss or what?” Bonzo said through heaving breaths. “Didn’t you see me running back and forth around here or –”

“Oh don’t be breathing like you ran to Waterloo and back!” Pat snipped in return.

I couldn’t help laughing. Their rapport was so easy, endearing and needling in the best way.

“I tried,” John (my John) said, leaning up against the net post.

Pat went to him and touched the little curl of his hair at his jaw. “All you’re trying to do is make sure the ball doesn’t hit you square between the eyes while you admire Julia’s tits.” She yanked the lock of his hair playfully.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Someone’s got to keep you in check. I know Julia’s too sweet on you to do anything about it,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “We’ll go again. Try harder.”

Pat waltzed back to her spot on the court. I should have known she would be competitive.

“You heard her. Try again. And harder, while you’re at it, hm?” I said, emulating Pat’s attitude.

John and John gave each other a look, resigned to their fate. “If I have a coronary…” Bonzo droned.

“I know mouth to mouth,” John replied, shoving him off to the back corner. Before I could return to my place on the court, he caught my eye and smiled. “You’re sweet on me, hm?”

I glanced back at Pat and cocked my head to the side. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

And with that, I flounced back to my spot on the court, more smug than I probably deserve to be.

The second match went just as poorly except with less balletic antics. They had Pat and me in stitches the way they were stumbling about. We didn’t have it in us to finish the match – wanted to preserve their integrity – and Annie didn't have it in her to continue watching the massacre from the window. She interrupted us with a trayful of aperitifs (an ale for Bonzo, sherry for the rest of us).

I suddenly understood why people liked to play tennis. There was a whole lot of standing around and chatting. A lot of lazing about in the sun, cheeks blushed with alcohol, veiled and not so veiled, teases thrown around.

It felt even better to be at the elbow of a man I was coming to adore much quicker than I could make logical sense of. I liked being eyed over John’s glass of sherry and enjoyed the playful touch of his hand from time to time.

“How’ve you got a whole court in your backyard and you’re that daffy at tennis, Jonesy?” Bonzo asked, a mustache full of foam.

“I’m a busy man,” John replied. The sherry glass looked like a delicate spider web between his fingers.

“Yes, been keeping very busy…” Pat smirked.

John let out a knowing laugh. “Compared to Jimmy’s dart playing, I think I’m a competent tennis player.”

“A caterpillar would be a competent tennis player compared to Jimmy at darts,” Bonzo added with a shrewd smile.

I knocked back the rest of my sherry. “Well, John, I had my battle of the sexes. Maybe we ought to mix things up so your ego isn’t too bruised by the time the day is out.”

“Me? An ego?” John clutched his heart. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t,” Bonzo laughed low and patted his friend on the back. “Come on. Take your girl, I won’t be hurt.”

Pat wrapped her arm around her husband’s bulging bicep as she joined him on the opposite side of the court.

I didn’t mind being John’s “girl” even if I usually abhorred being called anything but a woman. In the presence of the right man, diminutiveness feels safe and welcoming. In fact, seeing how John treated the girls in his life made me want to be one. A delicate little flower, nourished by his dotage and admired with tenderness. Rather than tenderized like a piece of meat.

“You better serve,” John said.

“So I can make up for your fumbling, hm?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Seems like I’m the Tin Man between the two of us, if we’re comparing rustiness.”

I touched his chin. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” I leaned in to kiss him and quickly spun away from him before our lips could collide. “Later.”

John guffawed as I slipped out of his grasp. “Later. Alright.”

I walked away with a spring in my step like I’d never felt. Whether it was the sherry or our attraction being witnessed, I didn’t know. I didn’t need to know. All I had to do was work the court with everything I had in me.

Looking at the length of the tennis court, I was suddenly struck with my reality. Julia Morgan, nanny, standing on a tennis court in the sprawling gardens of a Georgian manor house, sleeping with her employer.

If only the Bronte sisters had gotten a load of me.

“Alright, Julia. Give it a rip!” Pat shouted. She was taking the front of the court, counting on Bonzo’s width to control the back of the court.

I gave the white wooly ball a few bounces, then threw it up in the air and gave it my best serve.

Pop! The ball flew across the court. It thwapped the ground and bounced toward Bonzo.

“Got it?!” Pat yelped.

He backhanded it over the net. “Got it!”

“You have to say, ‘got it’ before you get it!”

I couldn’t concentrate more on the conversation. I skittered up the court the moment I saw John whiff it. “Mine,” I grunted and knocked the ball back over the net. Pat and I kept a good volley with the Johns contributing now and then, until I sent the ball to the back corner, and it bounced out of bounds.

“Oo! Fifteen-love to Julia. No thanks to John!”

“I helped a little.”

“Yes, you did, darling,” I cooed, pinching his cheek.

The game was more interesting than boys versus girls, but still ended up being Pat and I doing most of the work which is, when you think of it, sadly true to life.

However, with the alcohol running through our systems, even Pat and I went silly some of the time. Tripping over ourselves, skipping around the court, throwing our heads back with laughter The score went out the window, and we all did a feral, gameless dance.

“I think we’ve won,” I said after several bouts.

“No thanks to me, hm?” John murmured, coming up behind me and stealing a kiss.

I latched a hand onto the breast of his shirt. “Certainly not.”

“I’ll allow it only because you’re sickeningly adorable together,” Pat said with a long, heavy sigh. “I’m awfully tired though. Will you be gutted if we call it quits?”

I wanted nothing more than to retreat into the house for a shower and a number of other things. “No, I think it’s about time.”

“We need a catnap before dinner,” Pat said and then tucked her mouth behind her hand to whisper to me, “At least he does.”

“Are you talkin’ about me over here?”

“Never.” Pat smiled at him innocently and batted her lashes.

Bonzo eyed her and then swiped her legs out from under her and threw her over his shoulder. “Likely story.”

“Oh, you brute,” she sighed dreamily. “See you two at dinner!” Pat yelped, hanging over her husband’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes, attempting to wave goodbye.

John and I both laughed and watched them go off. I smiled surreptitiously at him, touching the lapel of his tennis shirt. “Well, should we follow them?”

He cocked his head, almost confused. “You all finished?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You wanted to play more?”

“Oh, I just thought –” John picked up the tennis ball from the ground and popped it in the air, catching it right back in his palm. “You and I could have a go.” He placed the ball into my hand. “Thought you could teach me a few things.”

“John, my skills cannot be taught,” I teased.

“Mm, can’t they?” He stepped up to me, toe to toe. He might not have been much taller than me, but when he acted cocky, he managed to tower. “Humor me, Julia.”

Damn him. So pretty and intoxicating. And so little time left. Less than twelve hours before he’d be gone. I pointed to the other side of the court with my racket. “Alright. But don’t be upset when I beat you.”

“Trust me, Julia, it will be an absolute honor to lose to you.”

I smiled to myself and crossed to my position on the court. “You ready?”

“Whenever you are, Billie Jean.”

“Watch and learn, I guess,” I said through a giggle. I’d gained a lot of confidence in my serve since the last game. My body remembered the pattern, the reach and the arc.

The ball flew across the court. John was on his toes, fast and precise with his movement. I was impressed. He might have been the Tin Man to start, but his joints had clearly been oiled. However, with a final swing of my racket, I managed to make the point. John ran to catch it but stopped short of the sideline. “Damn. Thought I had you,” he called out.

“You get the idea. You want to serve now?”

John smiled in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“That was just a practice,” I said with a casual shrug. “Besides, you’ll have to keep up with my technique,” I said, springing on my feet and swinging my racket playfully.

John laughed. “Oh, Julia…”

“What?”

John retrieved the ball and sighed. “I’m going to miss you.” Bounced the ball a few times. “That’s all.”

My heart fluttered. “You’re trying to distract me.”

A childish grin spread on his face. “Is it working?”

I set myself up at the back of the court and watched John ready his serve. A few bounces of the ball, tossing his hair out of his eyes, rolling his shoulders back. Throw and…

I wasn’t prepared for the strength of his serve. The ball flashed like lightning across the court. I didn’t even see it before it hit just before the baseline and out of bounds. “Bloody hell!” I screeched.

“Sorry!”

I looked at John. He still wore a hapless sort of expression. “What was that?”

“Luck, I guess?”

I collected the ball and tossed it back. “Alright. Fifteen-love, huh?”

“Is that my first point of the day? Goodness…” John mused as he readied his serve again.

This time, his serve was powerful, but I was quick this time and hit it right back onto his side of the net. John leapt up to meet it, smacking it back toward me. It whipped past my ear and out of my reach. I looked at him with wide eyes.

“Coincidence?” John said with a shrug.

I wasn’t so sure. “Thirty-love.” I threw the ball back his way.

Sure enough, his serve was quick and exacting. I was prepared though, and we were able to volley back and forth. Each time I hit the ball felt more and more out of my reach. I was having to take longer strides and leaps to get to it. And eventually, John made the kill shot, sending the ball off the court.

I stopped to catch my breath, placing my hands on my knees. “What…the hell…”

“Maybe I just needed to warm-up.”

I glanced over at him, breath still heaving. The fucker didn’t even seem plussed. He was smiling ear to ear. Almost like a maniac. “Are you hustling me?” I called out.

John frowned. “No, how would I be doing that?”

“Because you barely managed a point all afternoon and now it’s forty-love.”

John grabbed a new ball and readied himself for another serve. “I assure you, Julia, I haven’t been doing anything of the sort.” He bounced the ball waiting for me to be ready. Then, he lifted his head, sneaking a smirk on his face. “Besides…if I was hustling you, we would have had to have made a bet, wouldn’t we?”

I didn’t have time to argue the semantics of hustling before he thwapped the ball back over the net toward me. I had to think fast on my feet, just as I’d been doing all day. However, whereas I’d been at the top of my game all day, John had been storing his up for later. The sneak.

To the surprise of no one but my past self, John won with one stroke, leaving me with nothing but an aching elbow and sweaty brow. The ball whipped past me, bouncing off the court and into the grass. I turned to look at it, looking almost like an egg that had dropped from a nest.

“A fluke.”

My whole body went rigid at his voice.

“Shall we try again? Just to see?”

Growing up with two brothers, it was impossible for me not to be competitive. Wedged between the two of them in the birth order, I was always pushing myself to keep up. I knew I could wipe the floor with them.

And this would be no different. “Your luck is running out, Jones.” I grabbed the ball from the lawn and prepared to serve.

“Do your worst, Julia.”

My worst, or should I say best, fell short.

Fell really short.

Because John…well, if I hadn’t been the one losing to him, I would have said he was stunning. For a casual tennis player at least. He was quick, direct, agile. It seemed like every move was planned out before it happened, even though there was no way he could have known.

The final point had me stumbling toward the net like an idiot. I was Tweedle Dee and Dum wrapped into one.

He’d tricked me. And now he was just rubbing it in my face.

“What a surprise, huh?”

I stared at his pristine white shoes, hoping I could set them on fire with my gaze alone. “You…hustler.”

“I can’t be a hustler if –”

“Don’t.” I glared at him.

John still smiled stupidly.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course I am.”

I let out a guttural shriek and dropped my racket to the ground. I’d known enough children in my life to know what made a good tantrum. “You hustled –”

“Ah, ah, ah,” John taunted, wagging his finger.

I huffed. I didn’t even want to look at him. It didn’t matter that the only people who knew my foolishness were John, myself, and God.

“You fooled me.”

John grinned. “That’s the word!”

I gaped at him. So he admitted it. I wasn’t going to put up with this treatment any longer. I turned on my heels and stalked back to the house. Through his childish antics, the entire day had been tainted.

“Oh, oh, oh!” I heard John run after me. The metal of his racket hits my hip bone. He looped his arm around me, grabbed the metal of the racket, and pulled me flush to his pelvis. I gasped, struggling to continue walking. He only pulled me tighter. “Are you really so cross at me you’re going to throw a tantrum?”

I tried to wriggle, but with every step forward, he pulled harder. I turned to look at him over my shoulder and felt his hot breath slide across my face. “Yes.”

“Really? You’re going to ruin our…” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Wonderful day because…” my jaw.

“John…”

“…of your pride,” he murmured into my neck before pressing his lips to the delicate skin.

I couldn’t deny how he melted me. I couldn’t stay mad at him. Not when his mere touch made me feel like this. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” John mumbled and tightened the racket even more. I could feel his hardness up against my backside.

I grabbed the racket and tried to push it away. “I’m mad at you.”

He chuckled darkly, sliding his mouth up to my ear. “Are you?”

I didn’t have time to respond before he nibbled on my ear lobe. I let out a moan despite myself. “Fuck…”

“I knew you couldn’t be mad for too long.”

With him leaving tomorrow, there was no way I could be mad for too long. After all, I wanted him to come back to me. To adore me all the same. “I hate you.”

John sighed, pleased. “I know.”

I raked my hand through his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss. The moment our lips collided I knew I was done for.

John dropped the racket, one hand grabbing for my chest and the other sliding under my skirt, knocking up against my wet panties.

“John, not here,” I said breathlessly between kisses.

John bit down on my lower lip, pulling away. “Why not?” His hand on my chest caressed my breast eagerly, thumbing at my nipple until it stood erect through the fabric. “We’ve done it outside before.”

I looked in horror at the house. Thinking about all the life inside. “But the house –”

John’s hand threaded into my underwear, fingers dipping inside me. My legs went weak. “What about the house?”

“I…” All words left my brain as he pulsed his fingers inside me.

“What are you scared of?”

“They’re…” I tried to swallow. “In the house, there are people –”

John shoved his fingers deep inside me, thumb skimming my clit. I let out a strangled whine. “So what if there are people in the house?” he said through gritted teeth.

The feelings were so intense that I had to drop to my knees, grass breaking my fall. John didn’t let me go for a second. As the house loomed, my pleasure grew. It was so wrong and perverse.

And it felt so good.

John began to push my underwear down, further and further until I could feel his bare cock against my ass. “John, they’ll see!” I said in an urgent whisper.

His fingers curled around my chin, jerking my head back to look at into his eyes. Almost completely black, edged in blue.

Who was this man? What had gotten into him? Only weeks ago he had been whimpering in my arms, terrified of coming too fast. Now he was…an animal.

“Listen to me, Julia,” he said, each word tight with consonants. “I don’t care if anyone sees.”

I gulped.

“Because that house,” he said eyes flicking toward the house momentarily, “is mine. I can do whatever I want. I can do who I want. You understand?”

I nodded, completely hypnotized.

John’s finger traced the outside of my mouth. “The house is mine; the court is mine, the ground under you is mine.” He kissed me softly. “And Julia?”

“What?”

“You are mine.”

I couldn’t respond before John forced me down onto the grass, pushing himself inside of me. I cried out in surprise, the stretch sending a shock of warmth through my body. His hand pressed into my upper back, keeping my chest tight to the ground while my ass stayed in the air.

John made quick work, fast and hard.

And despite all the terror, the fear that someone was looking through a curtain from somewhere inside, I loved it.

I loved every second.

“Did you hear me?” he grunted through his teeth. “You’re mine.”

I moaned, feeling blades of grass fold into my lips.

John continued to mercilessly thrust, doubling over my back. I could hear every one of his breaths, his spit moving in his mouth, whimpers tucked deep in his throat. I dug my fingers into the dirt, clinging for dear life as my body was rocked back and forth with electric pulses from his cock buried inside me.

John’s fingers curled around my hips, so hard it was almost painful.

Nothing was pain, though, when I knew how much he wanted me.

I turned my face into the Earth and let out a huge, plangent cry. My whole body tightened with impending euphoria.

John let out a pathetic grunt. “Oh god, oh my god, I – ahh!”

My orgasm caught me off guard; my cunt clenched around him as warm, angry pleasure sent me spiraling.

As I reveled in pleasure, John pressed himself up against my back and with each final thrust, he grunted, “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re –” John cut himself off. Even he couldn’t stay composed when it came to his desire. “O-oh.”

And then he came, deep inside me, his seed feeling hotter and more desperate than usual.

I could feel his heart pounding into my back like a drum.

John’s head drooped beside mine; he kissed the crest of my ear tenderly, as if he hadn’t just fucked me without repentance out in the open.

His words echoed in my head. You’re mine. It seemed so simple, just two words. But I had no idea what that meant to him. Which part of me was he claiming? My body? My heart? He could have all of it, but I didn’t want to give it away and look rash.

John rolled off of me with a sated sigh. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said, following suit and flopping onto my back. I looked down at my dress. White splotched with green. “Oh god, Pat’s dress.”

“I’ll buy her a new one,” John sighed. He reached out and pulled on my skirt. “Besides, this looks too good on you to get rid of.”

I gave him a small, bashful smile. “It’s probably nearly time to get the girls from school.”

“Oh, them. Forgot about them.”

“Shut up,” I snipped.

He laughed through closed lips.

“I’ll need to shower before I go to get them.”

“No, no. I’ll get them.” John pushed himself up to sitting with a heavy sigh, collapsing over his chest.

I giggled. “You sure you’ll make it?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Not to worry.” He got to his feet and dusted off the few blades of grass from his white shirt and tiny shorts. “Are you coming?”

My whole body felt like a part of the earth. I couldn’t leave it now. “In a minute. I’ll be up in a minute.”

John put his hands on his hips. “You’re not still cross with me, are you?” he asked, eyeing me.

I waved my feet back and forth. “Oh, of course I am.”

“Guess I’ll have to make up for it later then, hm?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

I sighed, considering his expression. That sneaking little smile. Deep dimples. It broke my heart knowing tonight was our last night for a while.

John blew me a kiss. “I’m off.”

I kissed the air, too tired to even motion backward.

John sauntered up to the house.

“Change before you go,” I called out after him.

No response. I was bathed only in the delicate sounds of nature.

I could lay there. Forever, maybe. Let the worms devour me until I became a part of the earth. Then I wouldn’t have the question if I was John’s. I’d be a part of the ground that would belong to him.

Then, he could never get rid of me.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have that kind of time. I had to get myself in proper shape for the girls when they got home. I scurried upstairs to the apartment, narrowly avoiding a collision with Annie, stripped off my clothes, and jumped in the shower, washing off the tramp and stepping back into the role of Madonna.

I could be both for him. While he was away, I could take care of his children, keep his home. And then when he returned, I could tend to him. All his needs.

He’d be a fool to let me go, wouldn’t he?

When John returned with the girls, we corralled them into the kitchen where Annie had set the table with lemonade and tea cakes. They stuffed their faces while they excitedly talked about their day at school.

The Bonhams joined us shortly after to the thrill of the girls. Pat doting, Bonzo teasing. John and I of course retreated into our respectable distance. After all, a confirmed romance is one thing, but involving his children would be another. However, I couldn’t ignore the prolonged glances through dinner, the tiny smiles exchanged over dessert, and the graze of his hand on my neck as he passed behind my seat.

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

Bloody hell, that meant something, didn’t it?

Evening turned into night. Pat and I took care of bedtime while the Johns retreated into the studio, already chomping at the bit to get back to the music. While I was dreading John’s trip, their excitable chatting over what was to come let me know it was right.

Pat and I stayed up for several hours gabbing away, catching up on every little thing since Montreux. I was pleased to be able to call her a friend.

However, when midnight came and went and there was no sign of our respective male companions, Pat had had enough. “What are they getting up to down there anyway?”

“Any number of things.”

She got to her feet and went to the door to the stairwell. She listened for a moment and then huffed. “I don’t even think they’re playing anymore! What on earth do they have to talk about?”

I giggled.

“I want him to get to bed. otherwise he’ll be grumpy in the morning and we’ll have to wake him up with smelling salts.”

“I’ll do it, I’ve got a lot of experience interrupting John in the studio.”

“Mm. Well, I’ll go with you in case my husband gives you grief.”

I tiptoed down the stairs, with Pat at my heels. We could hear the muffled conversation of men through the gap in the studio door.

The closer we got the more words we could make out.

Pat shot ahead of me and cocked her ear toward the door.

“Are you listening?” I whispered.

She put her finger over her mouth to silence me and pulled me close to her. “We can have a little fun too, can’t we?” she said, lips so close to my ear she might be kissing me.

I wasn’t above eavesdropping. In fact, it seemed like a fun little game for two adult women having something resembling a slumber party.

Oh, but how wrong I was.

“You’ll keep quiet about it, won’t you?”

“Who would I even tell?” Bonzo could be heard asking.

“I don’t know,” came John’s voice. Quieter. Nervous even. “Robert, maybe.”

“Don’t be thick, Jones. We don’t talk about your extracurriculars,” he replied with a deep chuckle.

“Ah, right.”

“Besides, what would be the harm in anyone knowing you fancy Julia anyway?”

Pat and I exchanged a look. My heart started to pump in my chest. He was talking about me.

Making sure I was a secret.

“Because…I don’t know if I even fancy Julia.”

Pat grabbed my arm.

Luckily, Bonzo was there to defend my honor. “You’re mental. The way you two were acting out there today.”

John didn’t reply. Pat and I leaned closer to the door in case we missed him whispering.

“She’s a pretty thing, she’s good with your girls, what more is there to it?” Bonzo continued.

“Alright, well, it’s not that I don’t fancy her, I guess. What I mean is…”

There was a long silence. I would have liked to jump into it and never be heard from again.

“It’s all been moving so quickly. And –” John cleared his throat. “You know, I still think about her all the time.”

That “her” was not me.

That “her” was Mo.

“‘Course you do, mate.”

“My mind just gets so…scrambled up.” Another pause. “And I need to get that all straightened out before I move forward with anything.”

Pat took that moment to pull open the door. I darted out of view, wringing my hands in the skirt of my nightgown. “Well, you two might as well just marry each other how long you’ve left us cold in bed, huh?”

I hurried up the stairs and left the chastising to her. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears as I leapt into bed and tucked myself under the covers.

Of course he wasn’t ready. How could I have been so foolish? Men never, ever say what they mean. They say what they think and don’t bother to evaluate whether they should say it. They feel entitled to every stupid thought that pops into their head.

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

By the time John crept into bed and slid his arms around me, I was not in the mood to indulge his impulses.

“You’re tired?”

“Mhm.”

He kissed me softly at the base of my skull with the lips that had just had the audacity to denounce me behind closed doors. “Goodnight, angel.”

For the first time since finding out he was leaving, I couldn’t wait for him to get out of my bed.