Ch 1 a flirtatious young man
"I hope so". Even as those three words slid out of my mouth I knew I'd stepped in it. A bare foot, softly sinking into a slippery silken pond. My inner libertine chafing to get out again. Oh no, she's still there.
We'd been talking about my house across town, that I might move into. I said my son lives in the garden flat out the back.
"You'll have boys visiting." My response above, given as a matter of fact admission of desire, a spontaneous and dead give away. Or maybe I gave it away long before.
When he arrived today, I was on the phone with a clearly male voice. It's always on speaker.
"Date night?" he asks, smiling, as I say good bye: "See you at 5:30 at the press club..."
"A friend," I say with a hint of amused indignation. "He's a friend, and he's married and his wife is my friend, too." My totally disingenuous claim to the moral high ground.
Over a few months his assistance in the garden has taken on a certain leering quality that frankly I found quite appealing. A tall and handsome footy and fitness fellow, earning a bit doing yard work while finishing year 12. I was on the brink of leaving a 27 year monogamous relationship that had become disrespectful and devoid of sex. I'd slipped into a sexual coma.
Heaven knows much of my past is incomprehensible to me now, but today showed that is all likely to resurface, already is.
