“Fred? You home?” Esther called as she walked into the apartment and locked the door behind her. It was pitch black and a bit hard for her to walk around in. She stumbled to the light switch, and then was able to see Fred asleep on the couch in the living room, a book in his hands and wine on the coffee table. She smiled as she hung her coat up on a hook and began cleaning up. “Oh, Fred… you’re hopeless,” she mumbled as she picked up the wine and wiped down the coffee table of spills.

Esther glanced down at the book Fred was reading. “Wuthering Heights?” she whispered and took the book from him. She held back a laugh. “It seems like something you’d read, doesn’t it?” She walked to the library and put the book away, a smile on her lips. But when she went back to the living room, Fred wasn’t there. Puzzled, she checked the den. “Where’d he go?” A noise came from the bedroom, so Esther went there.

Iniside the bedroom, the bedside lamps were on, his clothes were scattered about, but he was nowhere to be found. “Fred?” she called and cautiously walked into the room. It was a stupid move, as Fred slammed the door shut and picked Esther up bridal style. “Fred? Put me down!” she shrieked. And he did: on the bed. He began taking off her clothes against her will. “Frederick Jean Lewis! Stop this instant! What do you think you’re doing?” His mouth covered hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth as he undid her bra. Abruptly, she pushed him away and stared into his eyes. “You’re drunk.”

“So?”

“What do you mean ‘so?’! Stop what you’re doing and think rationally!”

Fred lowered his head and began trailing kisses from her neck to the corner of her mouth. “Esther, I want you. I wan’t you so much…” And he slipped his tongue into her mouth again. She was about to protest but Fred left her mouth and began teasing her nipples. She gasped and breathed deeply for a few seconds, deciding for herself whether now was a right time or not.

She grabbed his face and held it close to hers, the blush now on her face. “Fred, tell me you love me.”

“Why would I need to say such a stupid thing? You already know I love you, Esther.”

“I know, but I like to hear you say it to me. Especially when we’re making love.”

Fred sighed, kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “I love you, Esther Rory,” and then went down and kissed her on her neck. She moaned and kissed his cheek. He stopped for a while, the two of them just staring at each others eyes. Then he went in and the rhythm began. He kept his face next to hers, their cheeks a few centimeters apart. Their love and ecstasy filling the room.

He woke up to a clean room, brutal headache, and a feeling of freshness. He got out of bed quickly, but laid back down again when he became lightheaded. When he felt strong enough, Fred got up and out of bed, got dressed, and went out to the kitchen, where he was greeted by a messy haired, happy-faced Esther. She was cooking breakfast.

“Good morning, Mr. Drunk. Would you like some Asprin? Or Advil?” He nodded, but she didn’t bother to look, she knew him too well. “I put them both on the coffee table for you. Go lay down and rest a little more while I finish breakfast.” There was a pause where Fred just stared at her. “Don’t worry, I put a glass of water there, too. You won’t have to dry-swallow.”

Fred smiled. “You’re the perfect girlfriend, Esther; I love you.” She laughed, then, at his astonished sounding voice.