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Lance

"You must think me odd,"

I turn around, finding a much, much younger version of my wife, her hair pulled back in a tight updo, her hands resting, folding in front of her, her intricate dress falling off her shoulders slightly.

I look down at my hands. They are much smaller and unblemished. A memory.

"About what?" I hear myself say. I cannot change anything here, it's a memory all my answers are predetermined.

"I know you do not love me," We walk along a path, through the garden. Her gloves don't fit her right.

"Oh?" I ask, my voice void of interest. She winces slightly, but nods.

Her sleeves are long, even now, and as I try to recall a time they were not, I fail. She has always covered herself wholly, even in summer.

"We are to be married soon. Will you promise you will be kind to me?"

I stop and turn to her. "I will," I force a smile on my face. She smiles gently.

"I know I can be a nuisance. I inspire violence. But if you could refrain—"

"I am unsure what you have heard. I am a military man. I fight wars, not little girls."

Anita grins. "I knew I chose right when I chose you."

Anita stands in front of me as I inspect her carefully, dragging my hand up her torso. She swallows roughly. She smells faintly of wine.

"You had a drink?" I ask.

She says nothing. My fingers linger on her skin. I try not to be perverted in this inspection, but I cannot help but enjoy her soft skin, her curves, and dips.

"A few."

How did she sneak that? She's a cunning one. "You've become so demanding," She says gently, her tongue loose inhibitions lowered. "It suits you."

"I did not become anything I wasn't already. I just don't normally use that tone with you. It's now necessary. The only thing you respond to." I murmur, getting on my knees to check her legs.

She shifts in her spot. "I read a romance novel..."

"Hm," I nod. Her fingers dip into my hair. I pause glancing up at her.

"The male lead...kissed her there."

I blink swallow and orient myself. "There? In Paris?" I offer, continuing my examination.

She shakes her head, pushing my head forward, against her belly. "There."

I stand abruptly. "You've had too much to drink."

"I had two glasses. As I'm sure you know, it takes a lot more than that, to get me drunk."

I need to be firm here. If I taint this examination, it will never be clinical again. I'll have perverted the meaning of this.

And yet...temptation knocks at the door. The devil. It would behoove me not to let her in. Her fingers sink deeper into my hair. "Admiral Lance?"

I shake my head. "This is not...a sexual affair. I just want to make sure you're alright."

She smiles. "Can it not be both?"

I swallow roughly. Resist.

"I'm afraid it cannot," I rasp.

"Don't be afraid," She whispers back, her hand cupping my cheek, those dark, enchanting eyes on me, her curls hair mused, face flushed from wine. "You don't have to be afraid of this, Lance."

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