He stopped the rusticity of his movements, trying to focus on a sound coming from the house closest to his. It was poetry and seduction and light and ...eace and every other contradiction to his world. At the first slow stroke, the crescendo seeped through his thoughts like warm hot chocolate velour over a coconut ice-cream. The violin beckoning gently as it unwound, rising and tensing. It spiraled upward soothing his hunger with its lovely melody. She saw him first through her kitchen window. I made no attempt to open and read it. I was living the damn thing why did I need to read another man’s account! I closed my laptop lid as the telephone rang. I leapt up to answer it. It was Abe calling. “We are ready to come home and go to bed now,” was all he said before hanging up. I felt my knees wobble, “This is it,” I thought. “This is it.” They were waiting outside when I arrived: standing in full public view hand in hand. This was public cuckolding; public humiliation. ‘Bulls’ liked. More

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