The Yellow Pages Girl Pt. 01

I groaned. I was in a lovely place, warm and comfortable, skin to skin with the most beautiful woman I'd ever met, our limbs entwined, gently caressing each other. For a moment, I thought, fuck it, I'll stay and take the consequences. Then sense kicked in, and after kissing Charlotte deeply, I swung my legs off the bed and headed to the bathroom for a quick clean-up, before getting dressed and gathering up my folder.

Charlotte had slipped on a robe, and we were soon embracing, saying our farewells. I think we both knew it was unlikely we'd see each other again, but as I put my hand on the door handle, I did just smile and say, "Give me a call if you're in the area again, eh?"

"We'll see," was her reply. "Oh, and thank you for tonight!" she added, with a grin.

~~~~~~

Standing there with her hands on her hips, my wife's face a picture of utter fury, a tirade of venom pouring from her mouth... "You fuckin' bastard! Meeting a fucking customer, right? Well, I followed you to your "meeting"... at a fuckin' Travelodge, yeah? Who was she? Some trollop who fluttered her eyelashes at you? Well you might as well fuck off back there, because you don't fucking live here anymore!

"You even stink of her cheap perfume! Think yourself lucky I'm not cutting your balls off with a rusty knife!"

All the way home, with my anxiety building, I had been guiltily imagining this, and all kinds of other scenarios, all in a similar vein, with animosity, separation and divorce following close behind.

So, when I did get back home, I was overwhelmingly relieved to find my wife fast asleep on the sofa, an empty wine glass on the side table beside her.

I sighed with relief. It looked as though I'd got away with my stolen evening of unadulterated pleasure but figured that I might not be so lucky next time. So, I covered her with a blanket and switched the light off, before heading up to bed, hoping to dream of Charlotte...

To be continued...