It sounded ideal. “Own room for female in friendly mixed flat.” She was shown around it by Phil, a mix of the best and worst of Gemini. He was clever to the point of cunning, attractive, adaptable, often bored. “How many share it?” she asked the handsome teacher.
“Just me and maybe you,” replied the charmer. “I’m friendly and, when you move in, it will be mixed.”
Lyn hesitated for a moment. Then, being a Pisces, always fearing the worst yet expecting the best, agreed to move in.
Since her marriage with Graham had soured, she was desperate to move. He should have gone, perhaps, but she was big on self-sacrifice, dramatic exits.
On her second night in the new flat, she was doing her ironing. Phil appeared at her elbow with a crumpled shirt and cute smile. “Could you possibly …” She did, of course.
Soon she was cooking his meals, cleaning the flat, sharing his bed. It was a few months later, in the supermarket, that it hit her. She was choosing his favourite ice cream and suddenly realised she’d become his housekeeper and paid him rent. She stared into the icy smoke of the freezer telling herself: “You’ve been had!”
When Phil arrived home, he found the table laid for one. She was wearing a dress that caressed every curve. She sat and enjoyed each mouthful of the ice cream, eyes closed, sighing with pleasure.
He ate toast. Sitting opposite, he saw her for the first time, a beautiful woman with a steely side he’d never guessed at. A challenge. “I’m moving out,” she said. “But I’ve found you a replacement.” She pointed to a new bristling doormat.
“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “I love you!” She gave him a passionate kiss. He went to wash her plate as a penance. Love her he might, but she was on her way back to her husband, a valuable lesson in power-sharing learnt.