Here we are arguing. Again. It's gotten bad lately. I don't know if it's the stress in his new job, or the mounting debt from my student loans. One thing is for sure, I've raised my voice one too many times, and now he's shut down.
It infuriates me when he does this, but at least I managed to talk him into a walk. A long excruciatingly quiet walk.
"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot."
I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer."
He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.
I arrived at the Jefferson's Lake Campsite entrance and upset some of those waiting - families in station wagons, seniors in their recreational vehicles, young couples in their cars pulling small trailers -- when I rode my bicycle right past them. I smiled as I approached the ranger station and saw a familiar face exit. I got off my bike and walked up to him.
An unexpected package in the post is always a pleasure, and this was no exception. Although if Jessica had foreseen the events that would unfold, she may have been less excited when she noticed, upon her return from work, the box left outside her door.
She scooped it up with the other post and then placed it on the table while she changed and poured a glass of wine.
Too damn slow, that was my problem. There was a group of them. College students from Japan, Korea, somewhere like that. We were in the waiting room, in Innsbruck, waiting for the overnight bus to Geneva in Switzerland. They had a couple of older women with them. Lecturers or something. A couple of parents perhaps. Some of the students looked mouth-wateringly cute. Lovely sloe eyes, long silky hair that some of them had in pony tails. Parkas, of course. In some cases almost enveloping them entirely. Some had their hoods up, as it was cold.
My name is Carol and I'm 39 years old, I stand about 5'5" tall and weigh in at about 105 pounds. I have light brown shoulder length hair that I like to pull behind my ears sometimes. I own a small car rental shop in town, which does fairly well to support my son and I. Tim or as I still like to think of him "TIMMY" is my 18 year old son, he decided to stay with me after my husband Mark and I thought it best to go our own separate ways, we did not have a falling out, just a mutual decision on calling it quits.
You have this look on your face of intense concentration as you lock the door to the apartment, like a man on a very serious mission. This makes me giggle because I know what we're about to do, and knowing our dirty little secret makes me giddy. You catch my eye:
"What are you giggling about?"
Thomas picked me up at eight and we decided to go for a drive. It was a hot night; Thomas was just wearing a white shirt, which he had left unbuttoned, showing off the muscles in his chest, and a pair of shorts that stopped above his knee. His clothes weren't anything fabulous, but it never seemed to matter what he wore, he always looked fantastic to me.
I have been home from work barely five minutes when there's a knock at my door.
I open it and smile at the tall, skinny man standing outside my door.
"Natalie." He leans forward and kisses both of my cheeks, his hand caressing the back of my neck.
"Come in," I step back and give him room. "Where are we heading tonight Sammy?" I ask, returning his kisses.
It was my good friend, Kara's boyfriend's birthday and a big group of us were heading out for a night on the town. I didn't really know her boyfriend, Levi, very well but I was in dire need of a night out. Before running out the door for my taxi, I gave myself a once over. I'd gone for a short black skirt, with a black scoop neck top that showed off my ample cleavage. I also had black, silk stockings on as it was a bit cold with black ankle boots. I looked pretty, damned good if I didn't say so myself.