Anticipation

Anticipation made her antsy all day, kept

drawing her back to the window from which

she would see whether her husband was

alone or had company.

She caught herself playing with her hair, something

her mother had warned her against—“It’s a

signal, dear, that you’re interested”—but she

was interested, was curious, was scared.

She knew she should get dressed though she

often greeted her husband naked, but with

someone else it would give the

wrong impression, wouldn’t it?

If she saw him/them arrive there

wouldn’t be time to dress, but

watching was so hypnotic and

waiting was such a powerful aphrodisiac.

 

(Image used by kind permission of Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)