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I am his social worker, his therapist and his rabbi. We shout at each other a lot – our arguments peppered with Yiddish. I have Jewish blood and Howard brings it out big time – I call him a schmuck, a putz and a schlemiel. I call him bubbelah when I am feeling affectionate and a schnorrer when I describe his habit of buying clothes from Primark. I buy mine there out of necessity; Howard shops there because he is a schnorrer. He makes me furious, but he also makes me laugh my head off – we have a series of in jokes and nicknames for people. I entertain him with my talent for mimicry and he makes me laugh just by describing the many terrible things he does. Howard made me very sad and very angry for a while when I realised I was on a hiding to nothing trying to be any more than just friends. Which was silly, because we don't fancy each other enough to be lovers. I refused to speak to him for a couple of months - but life without him is just a lot more boring.As usual Howard was not. I moved around so I was straddled over his lap. I felt his warm, strong hand on the small of my back pulling me closer. I pushed my hips down, to drift over his crotch. My hands wrapped around his neck as I pulled up from his growing bulge. "Mhm," he moaned, not breaking our kiss. I slid my right hand down to grab his crotch, our signal that we were willing to fuck. He felt it, and did the same. Still without breaking the kiss, he picked me up by grabbing my legs on either side of him, where they still were from when we were kissing. Charles carried me to our bedroom, and lay my down. As I began to unbutton my top, he was already pulling his off, and then unbuckling his pants. His eyes flickered up me once I had finished the buttons, and he hovered over me, on all fours. I watched him part the sides of my shirt, and plant a kiss between my breasts. Charles began to kiss my front all over, and I leaned up to take off my blouse and unclasp my bra. He quickly slid off the black lace and.
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