An image of her party legs swam into my mind.“Sorry,” she started, “I didn’t know how to contact you, just your school, that Faye mentioned,�... she was explaining about following me, “and I had an idea you’d rather see me here than there.”“Yes, you’re quite right, that’s fine, come through,” I led her through to the kitchen, still wondering why she was here. She hadn’t asked Faye for my number or email or address. “Would you like a drink? Cup of tea?”“Tea?” Mocking smile, head tilted, eyebrows. They feed images to a data storage something-or-other whenever there's anyone in one of the rooms. I've been cautioned to use my ability to delete the records sparingly. I can make copies to other storage devices before deleting. I can review the records or watch in realtime and today I'm watching in realtime, anticipating an exciting show. In all my 59 years of life, I've done some tawdry things, mostly under the supervision of my loving husband. But I've never done anything like this and I'm. Her chest heaving with her raw emotion, her hair swinging wildly about her face, the music in her head in an increasing pace. Too frightened to acknowledge the truth. Her mind fighting what her body wants, craves, needs. The dance in significance of that war within her. Shouting out with anger aimed not at him but at herself ?NO!? the shout echoing throughout the room. She fights with herself with renewed energy she cries out feeling the desire, the need so great to submit to him.The music. The furnace had kicked on earlier so it was beginning to warm in the bedroom. There was snow on the ground outside and it was still dark at 6AM. It was not getting light now until around 8 O’clock. I slowly lifted my hips and pulled the t-shirt I wore to bed up and then worked it up my body and over my head. I moved closer to Greg and put my arm across his chest. Lying against him naked I was hoping he would awake before the alarm and have time for me. It has been over a year since the last.
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