If there were ever mind-game Olympics, Gemini woman would win the gold medals. And illicit affairs that would rip the nerves of other sun signs were, to Gemini Kathy, pure sport. 

She had been going out the Greg for a year. They had reached that secure point where they made up foursomes with other couples to go out for the evening. They saw a lot of Tom and his fiancée Helen.

All very cosy. But Kathy hated cosy and decided to spice the mixture by seducing Tom. 

He, being a sex-driven Aries, did not bother to resist. Meanwhile Greg, a steady Taurus, and Helen a dutiful Virgo, suspected nothing.

And that, of course, was a big problem for Kathy. She needed the delicious edge of danger, the fun, as she saw it, of being found out. So she started to leave a trail of clues. 

Surely Helen would catch a teasing taint of the rose essential oil that Kathy always wore, on Tom’s clothing – no. 
She went further. 
She left her hairbrush, with long blonde hairs, in his car. Still there was no reaction from Helen – she must be so trusting, so dull.

The truth was rather different. It was Kathy who missed the true love clues. While she and Tom were sneaking an affair, her Greg and his Helen, without wanting or meaning to, had fallen in love. So far they had only kissed, only held hands, as they agonised about how to break it to the others.

At last they had simply and honourably confessed. Kathy came to see me, angry and hurt. “Would you believe it, little Miss Prim has stolen my man.”

She had, of course, underestimated Helen. Missed the passion that smoulders under the Virgo surface. Kathy did still have Tom as consolation. “Tom,” said Kathy, the mental contortionist. “No, it’s Greg I want, my Greg.”