She's coming over today, in 25 minutes. I took three pills, just in case, the max daily dose.
Maybe nothing will happen, maybe something will, who knows?
Am I ready to take that chance again? A chance to get caught, to fall in love with the wrong person, to blow up a sub-par but stable marriage. Probably not. but what if? Right? Isn't that always the question?
What if she comes over alone, maybe she told Ryan to stay home, that she doesn't need any help painting. Maybe Chris shows up late, and maybe, just maybe, she's wearing her baggy linen shorts and my favorite tank top. She's an A-cup, slim, tall, wildly perfect red hair, a tight little ass built on miles of running, and a smile that makes me lose a breath.
She gets here, 9:30, on the dot. We have a lot of painting to do, but she asks for a tour of the house first. My house isn't that big, there's only a little to tour, but I'm glad that I cleaned the bathroom before she came over.
In the master bedroom she kneels on the bed, resting against the headboard, looking out the back window.
Is she sticking her ass out on purpose? She did, in fact, wear her linen shorts. I stand next to her, next to the window; my heart is pounding, is this it?
My fingertips find the back of her left thigh and I drift my fingers up and down her pale skin. She sighs, just a bit, and puts her head down on her folded arms. Her body shifts in unmistakable need.
"Please" she whispers.
"Please what?" I reply softly, trying to calm my voice over the beating of my heart.
"Touch me."
