Opening Line

It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. The temptation had been there for months, festering like an undressed wound. She tried to ignore the flirtatious smiles, the lingering stares, his fingers grazing her skin as he reached past her on the park bench to tie the shoelaces of the toddler in front of them. Her husband traveled during the week, his wife was trying to make partner, leaving them long afternoons tending to three children, his son and her two daughters.

They met in the park. She, a stay-at-home mother, found relief at the park. Fresh air and time when she could pretend to be alone. He, a writer who worked from home, found inspiration at the park. His senses were on overload picking up every nuance and storing it away in his mind.

They didn’t mean for it to happen. A look turned into a smile. A smile turned into a “hello”.  Soon small talk turned into meaningful conversation. They took solace in one another.  It started out innocently enough. He complained that his wife didn’t listen to what he had to say. She complained that her husband didn’t provide emotional support. Soon complaints turned into accusations. His wife didn’t care, her husband didn’t love her.

Each step brought them closer and closer to this day. The first time. It was at least a fancy hotel room. He spared no expense. She left her daughters with a neighbor, feigning an unexpected appointment. He hired a babysitter leaving no explanation.

They sat awkwardly on the bed wondering if they would be able to go through with it. It was their first time. It was good. It was very good. It wouldn’t be the last.

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