“That would be good,” she said, weakly.“How about this afternoon?” he asked.“Okay,” she said, feeling like a little girl, for some reason....“I’ll see you then.”She hung up. Her hand was trembling. She felt like she had just made some kind of horrible mistake. She worried about it all morning, and found herself doing the same things over and over again. She changed the towel on the rack in the kitchen three times, and, the last time, tugged on it so hard, while she was straightening it, that one. It was a corner house and I parked in the side street, hopefully out of view of any stray colleagues. I went through the garden gate, into the very secluded back garden and headed towards the house.For some reason, this very normal activity always seemed so erotic. I was slipping in, deliberately trying to avoid being seen, on an illicit mission to fuck Annie while her husband was away. Or was it more that Annie fucked me? It certainly seemed that way many times. She was not a shy, retiring. More

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