Marie Waters applied her make-up tastefully and smiled into the mirror.
Her husband, Mark promised he’d be home early from work today – the first time in a long time – so they could spend a quiet evening together.
She had tidied up and dusted, had cooked up a hearty dinner and was now all set. With soft music playing, a glass of wine and a magazine, she sat down to wait for him.
An hour passed and then another, and the sky outside blushed red. She glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time and poured herself another glass.
She needed it. Mark had done this so many times before, had left home each morning with a quick kiss and a promise, to only return late at night, still burying himself in work.
More wine went down and Marie dozed into fleeting, erotic dreams; then the doorbell rang, rudely, loudly and persistently. She started awake, buzzed, excited and beaming. Mark was home!
She ran to the door and opened it; a tall man, smelling deliciously of aftershave stood there with a small delivery box in his hands.
“For Mark Waters,” he said and his deep voice vibrated through her.
She took the package and their hands touched. The next instant, she yanked him into the house and shut the door behind them.
When Mark returned home much later, still intent on completing some office work, he only commented about her smudged make-up and tousled hair. With a guilty blush, she handed him the package.
“Something came for you,” she said. “I can’t believe how that doorbell rang,” and with a touch of remorse added:
“I thought it was you.”
He hardly heard her, she realised. Their bed still smelled deliciously of another man’s aftershave, but now she couldn’t feel guilty anymore.
© Cindy Pereira