by Bren Gosling
sweet sherry
My
girlfriends never got over how I settled for Peter at nineteen. He is what you
would call ‘steady.’ They said with my curves in all the right places I
could’ve bagged anyone. Thirty years on and I’m still ample. The thing is, now,
so is Peter. I do love him, except... Maybe if we’d had kids. We tried, but no-can-do.
Didn’t fancy adopting. So we comforted ourselves with a nice house in the
suburbs and exotic holidays. The mortgage was paid off last year. Only, when he
gets in from work all he’s after is dinner in front of the Channel Four News.
And he’s away a lot. At the weekends he likes to play golf and talk about Futures
and Forex, mostly...
I’ve taken a risk, I know, not like me at
all. But after my little health scare, I thought, no point in holding off, is
there? As long as I’m not hurting
anyone. Peter and I get on after our own fashion: I wouldn’t want for us to
separate. This way it’s no questions asked. And who knows what he gets up to on
the quiet? I limit myself to once a
fortnight when I’m certain he’s not coming home, always after eleven because
then I know the neighbours are settled in for the night. I’ve been very
discrete. Of course, I don’t use my real name. And it’s not as if I’m posting
selfies all over the place. Just the one website, one picture that hints rather
than being full -on. Better to make the imagination work a bit, tease a little.
You’d be amazed how many fit young blokes there are out there, looking for anonymous
excitement with the more mature woman.
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