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The Tryst

The perfumed letter sat in the middle of my desk. It smelled like her. "Meet me at 3," it read. There just wasn't time. What had I gotten myself into? She was positively insatiable. Retrieving the car keys from the drawer, I put the letter with the others.

The park was close, the parking scarce. I would be late, and fretted that she might think I was breaking it off. I worried she might already have left.

At our rendezvous point, I found her surrounded by bushes. Her eyes smiled under her strawberry-blond hair. We kissed. She smelled of mangoes and coconut. Our bodies pressed together tight.

"What would your husband think of our trysts, Mrs. Reece?" I asked, unbuttoning her blouse.

Ever the shy seductress, her eyes flicked downward. "I think ... that he's happy."

I snorted a laugh.

Her silk soft hand took mine, coaxing me down on the blanket. "Come along, Mr. Reece. You're a busy man with work to do."

Story by:

E. Arne Kahlfuss

26 September 2014