The Temptress

I was sitting at my desk, working on a case. An imprtant case, a macabre homocide, drugs, gangs, horrendous on the headwork. I usually stay just a little longer than I should, but time has a talent of disappearing from your grasp like sand on a beach, somehow it always gets away. A flick the page over, too many words, never enough coffe, never enough Jack. A shadow floats by the window, another uniform, floating back to life...No, something is different, a presence, silent breath in deserted opportunity.



She walked in and sat down right in front of me. Neither of us said a word. She neatly raised one leg and placed it over the other. A crease formed, lining the way to the top of her thigh. She looked stunning in that skirt, tightly gripping her long, shapely legs, her curvaceous arse. She always did make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Her crisp white shirt against her coffee skin, the shade of fresh white lilies on a coffin, was tucked into her skirt. Her tiny waist, the perfect shape in the silhouette. Buttoned to just below her bra, she knew how to tease me, how to make me want her need her.





Her lips gleamed, two scarlet rivers, in the light from the corridor. The charcoal lining around her cold, steel grey eyes, piercing my soul, knowing all my thoughts, all my secrets, at the same time forgiving all the mistakes. She raised her arms, elegant swans taking flight, one smooth, rapid sweep, the hair pin fell to the floor and her hair, soft undulations, caramel, cocoa, coffee, fell to just beneath her soft, strong, gentle shoulders. Her lips parted, a swift, defiant bite, making me dizzy with lust. I hate her just as much as I could never live without her.





For the last fifteen years she has driven me crazy. Maria, the one love of my life, forcing insanity on my entire being since that first moment. My wife, the only one that has complete, hypnotising control…