She is leaving the building as you enter. You hold the door open for her in an act of politeness. She smiles and thanks you. It is an everyday encounter with an everyday person.
You have noticed her before. Or at least, you have seen somebody like her. A woman of 49 or 50 perhaps. There is still a youthfulness to her complexion and there is an unfashionable length to her hair. Sometimes she ties it up when she goes out, but not today. She is short in height and quite slender, although there is a pleasant hint of fullness around her hips and thighs. Most noticeable are her eyes. Coloured by a rich deepness that almost matches the shade of her hair. Otherwise, you would mark her down as an ordinary enough woman, barely warranting a second glance as you pass her.
But this woman has something else. Perhaps it is something a man can never quite define or fully understand. Behind the shield of the half smile that she gives you as she passes, there is an air of indifference. A contentedness and calm. A woman who is in love perhaps.
Dressed smartly but not provocatively, she has chosen a black skirt and a dark grey blouse. They match and fit perfectly. Take a closer look and notice how her clothes accentuate the shape of her body. She has a neatness. There is something nice about the way that a woman of her age seems to know how to achieve balance when choosing what to wear. There is something quietly exciting about that.
If you look a little more closely you might notice a delicate gold chain around her neck. It can just be glimpsed through the open collar of her blouse. There is something private and hidden from others. You can't see it but, beneath her blouse, the chain holds a ring. It is a ring that is meant to be worn on the third finger of her left hand. A simple wedding band. It is inexpensive, but that does not detract from what it symbolises. She wears it around her neck instead of on her finger. Closed off from everybody except him. There are other things that she gives only to him.
He was manoeuvring his car out from a parking space when you arrived a few minutes ago. It is your good luck. Spaces are at a premium at this time of day. You notice him glance at you as he drives off. You give a wave of acknowledgement in thanks.
He is probably about your age. Maybe 27 or 28, but certainly no more than 30. He is dressed in a white shirt and wears a tie. He is dressed for business. Tall, blue eyed, friendly and confident. This is the confidence that a decent education, good job and beautiful young wife can bring. You can imagine his wife of course. Blonde, pretty and still holding on to a freshness, despite the busy days that small children can bring. They have a comfortable life and every reason to be happy. And they are happy, of course they are. But there are always gaps and secrets, even in the most perfect scenarios.
It is mid-afternoon when these encounters occur. You pause to think about these people. He will probably have an hour or two left at the office before the day ends and he can return to his family. She still has time to wander around a shopping centre and perhaps drink a coffee before going home alone. When she gets back, she will attend to the bed that she had left unmade. The faint and sweet scent of their skin has faded now. The lingering warmth of their bodies has gone.
The greater part of sexual pleasure is locked up in anticipation of the act. The key to unlocking that pleasure is to take time. Everything worth having needs the investment of time. Theirs is way of loving that has been a lifetime in the making. That is how it is between a mother and her son.
So, she understands the need for patience. Waiting for the afternoons when he can steal a few hours away from his other life. That brief time is marked out by the fictitious meeting logged in his office diary. But, afterwards, the loneliness he leaves behind creeps back in. That is why she needs to get out of the house for a time. She sits alone, sipping a coffee. An ordinary woman in an ordinary café. She smiles at others as they pass, but her thoughts are disrupted by the knowledge that he goes back to another woman and lies next to her at night. But she has his love and he has hers. They carry that love with them in a silent tryst. Her sense of doubt is fleeting. Her mind takes comfort from the events of the last few hours, and her hand reaches up to touch the chain around her neck.
The gift he had bought her was perfectly wrapped. He watched her as she opened it. A thin gold chain carrying a ring. She smiled as he took it from the box and placed it around her neck for her. A ring that carries a promise and a reassurance of his love.
In these moments she needs to show him her love. Slipping to her knees in front of the couch, she fumbles and tugs at the waistband of his trousers. He strokes his hands through her hair while she, still fully clothed, lowers her head to take him in her mouth. She breathes in his familiar fragrance as she works her head up and down his erect length.
