She ran her manicured nails through his neck and kissed him hard. He pushed her down to the couch, tracing the tip of her tongue with his. Both panting. She unhooked her bra. He pushed her away. She said nothing but smirked, reached for her silvery coat and left. He was grasping for water. Took big gulps from the jar and headed to his room.
He must’ve fallen asleep when she came home. His wife. She never ceased to fascinate him. It was love at first sight. He used to go to the same Bank where she worked. She had once mistaken him with another client. She blushed and apologized. Awkward conversations. The next thing he remembered, they were so much in love. He had always been faithful, until he met Soph.
Soph. The great kisser.. They met in painting class, 2 months back. None of them remembered who had started the kiss that led to series of love making. But the guilt was too big to swallow. He told Soph it was over, she told him it had just started.
It had been a week since he told his wife about Soph. She kicked him out, said she wanted a divorce. It was raining. He felt like getting freshly baked muffins and a latte. There was this pastry shop he was so fond of. Oh, she took the car, by the way. So there he was, walking to the pastry shop in heavy rain from his cheap motel room.
He was munching on his last muffin when he saw someone familiar, right across the street. There she was, Soph, fishing something from the pocket of her silvery coat. Then a familiar white sport car screeched to a halt. He ordered another latte and took a closer look. His wife was not alone. Someone, was with her; a man, holding her hand. They were waving and heading to.. Soph!
He grabbed his coat and ran to the street. Head wobbly with question marks. He was soaking wet. Flash lights. Head spinning. Loud screeching sound.