Having locked us out of our shop, my wife stands in the delivery yard, lost in the ruins of her mind and the wonder of the silver harvest moon hanging low in the sky.
“I told you not to follow me out,” I grumble mildly, trying to force the door.
“Beautiful,” she whispers, oblivious.
I stand behind her, rest my chin on her head and embrace her.
She chuckles provocatively, rubbing her body against mine. Still she can arouse me.
I nuzzle her neck, sliding my hands beneath her chemise.
“We’d better be quick,” she says, “my husband might catch us.”
Here in France it’s finally stopped raining but the river is still high and fast, so we’re about to call it a day for our spring cruise. We’ve been marooned on the boat, having to wade through knee deep waters to get to the car, which was pointless, as we later discovered, since the roads to the port were impassable too! Good job we had plenty of wine to hand…