After lunch and a bottle of sparkling, she lent forward kissed me and said it was time to get dressed, and my clothes and something special were laid ...ut in the guest room, and that she will be getting ready in the master bedroom, she told me after I had put on the underwear to put on my regular street clothes, and to come back down to the living room, when I got into the spare room there was a letter with a few instruction, and a box of wet wipes, the first instruction was to wipe my self down. A reminder of where he had been. The shower was still wet from when he had cleansed himself only an hour before, removing any traces of my perfume, my taste, my mark. I was the other woman. I was the one he fucked like a whore before going home and tucking his children into bed. Guilt, shame, and anger mixed together in my blood. I had been so effortlessly wrapped around his touch. His taste. His smell. I was the other woman. * “Stewart, why don’t you kiss me?” I tease, as we twirl around in. More

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