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It didn’t. It was a slow build. By the time September arrived, we were having a night of playing and occasional intercourse perhaps once a week. I was still a long way from being able to get Paul to an orgasm, but I had tasted that little salty dribble of fluid on him a couple of times. Only one thing had grown into a daily ritual; Paul would kiss me and slip his hand down my panties when he got home from work. That alone meant the world. Paul and I had reached an agreement, if we had not decided by Wednesday to abandon our plans, we would not discuss it further. The meeting was Friday. Our nerves were fraught, and we saw no point in making things worse with last-minute discussion. The deadline also gave forty-eight hours to tell Ebenezer. Even though we did not know who this person really was, we felt we would owe him a courteous explanation. That deadline passed. I took Thursday off work to pack and relax, but spent most of the day cleaning, ironing, and doing anything. ‘Are we getting close?’ she asked. ‘Just a few more miles. Look, you can see the ocean.’ We had just crested a rise, and there it was, glittering blue in the middle distance. Millie looked at it with a strange expression on her cute baby face. Her cheeks were bright pink. ‘Jeff, I’m so scared,’ she whispered. ‘I know, baby,’ I said comfortingly. ‘It’ll be okay. You’ll see.’ I took her hand, and she gripped it tightly. I felt the humming tension in her muscles as she clung to it. Finally, we were there. Following the directions given in the magazine, I turned off the two-lane blacktop onto an unpaved road, marked only by a small wooden sign with the silhouette of a very fat woman and an arrow. Millie looked at me with a questioning, puzzled expression. ‘What was on that sign?’ she asked. Evidently women weren’t as quick to recognize that outline as men were. I followed the road toward the beach, and suddenly it widened into a large parking area. The beach was still fifty yards.
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