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porch into a nice solarium and sun deck. She led us downstairs after breakfast and showed us how she planned to make half the basement into an exercise and games room, enclose the furnace and water heater, and use the other side for storage and a workshop. Under the stairs was an antique Simplicity wringer washer, still hooked up. Horrified, Doug yanked the plug and told Louise it was a miracle it hadnt shorted out and burned down the house! Louise plugged it back in and said, "Ill have you know its in fine working condition." She flicked it on and sure enough, the wringer spun and the agitator rotated to and fro. Doug stood mesmerized, staring at the agitators gyrations and then whispered to me, "Ill bet if you lube up that knurled knob at the top of the agitator with KY jelly, climb up on the tub and press your pussy down against the knob then turn it on, itll give you a better ride than those mechanical bulls we saw in Texas!" That got him a good punch in the shoulder for being so gross. Louise continued her tour and led us upstairs to the attic. Her houses high Mansard roof housed a large open loft. In the center of each roof side was a large six-foot by six-foot window with a little peak over top. Every window gave a fantastic view of the village. To the west, east and south, there were mature trees, quiet streets and stately homes, but to the north was a breathtaking panorama of the Lac St. Franciose. She pulled some architectural drawings out and showed us plans for an additional apartment. The open-concept design showed a glass corner shower and toilet stall backing against the large chimney in the center of the apartment. A small dining room table sat next to the west window. Storage closets were wrapped around the southwest corner over to the stairwell. Chests of drawers flanked a corner clothes closet in the northeast corner. The king size beds headboard sat between two support posts and its foot faced the north window. A matching corner clothes closet and bureaus theme wrapped around the northwest corner. A three-seat recliner sofa by the chimney faced the beautiful west window, while an entertainment center and kitchenette wrapped around the southwest corner, back to the south window. Louises dark eyes searched back and forth between us for answers after she blurted out, "Do you think a couple like you two would be comfortable in an apartment like this?" Doug walked over to the north window once more, stared out for the longest time and then muttered, "Theres no sailboats." I didnt know what to say but after considerable silence, Doug turned and began: "The truth is, Laura has had a really rough time since your move here, Louise. She lives in a private world much of the time, daydreaming, presumably of you. Ive kept my petty jealousies under control because Laura frequently reflects back the sexual



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exuberance youve kindled in her. However, Ive noticed her sparkle has dramatically dulled since youve been gone. I need Laura, you need Laura and Laura needs both of us, so the answer is quite simple. Baring any huge cultural differences in living here in Quebec, I think we could all be happy here together." Not wanting to seem too anxious, I tried my best to bring up a few more negative thoughts, but they were quickly overshadowed by the realization that back home and retired, with little to do, Doug would drive me crazy. I reminded him it might not be that easy to leave our home, our children and our lives behind, to which he replied, "Perhaps then, a trial period of say a year, might be a good idea," and then added, "If youre sure the neighbors could live with it, if they found out about our little secret, I think we should seal the deal." As we had a group hug, Louise suddenly exclaimed, "Thats absolutely perfect, Our Little Secret is what well call the business!" In the next breath she continued, "Ill get a sign made for the front lawn and put brochures in the malls and well need an Hotmail address in that name." Over the rest of the visit, Louise and I wandered through the shops down in Huntingdon while Doug explored the area. He seemed infatuated with Lake St. Francis, I suppose because it was reminiscent of Lake Ontario. On our drive back home, he behaved himself admirably, deep in thought. By the end of the following week, he informed me everything was under control. The conniving old fool had talked our kids into moving into the Marina condo for the year. Erin had an opportunity for a good job with GM and Michael would be graduated from university and entering the work force after the New Year. When Louise confirmed shed set up as an email address, I realized our lives had shifted to a new plateau. Doug studied Louises plans for our apartment and came to the conclusion all we really needed were our personal possessions and clothes, plus some furniture. Since the doctor suggested that the head of our bed be raised to help his condition, Doug decided to leave the waterbed behind and build a new bed himself for the apartment. He labored lovingly much of September, on building his king-sized captains bed. However, all of that sawing and sanding left many little cuts and sliver rips on his soft hands. Every time he touched my tender bits, his fingers felt like poker-hot sandpaper sticks. Hand crème soothed his skin, but did little to cool down his touch. Sorting through old keepsakes one day, I found my wedding dress. In a little plastic bag were my bridal veil, stockings, a spare garter, silky French-cut panties plus my sheer white nylon gloves. I decided for Doug that he needed a break from sanding the headboard, so I undressed and laid out my bridal accessories. I