FORBIDDEN FRUIT
IF I WERE YOUR WOMAN
© 2007 by Sylvia Hubbard
Latrese closed her eyes to suffice her urges, but damn if Mac didn’t make her moist just by sight. A taste was all she wanted. ‘Eve had gotten a taste and what did that lead to.’
Being the new woman on the block, she envied the perfect lives of her neighbors around her.
Sipping on her cup of morning Joe, she narrowed her eyes through the blinds. Today he was working on the gutters. It was freezing outside, but he – as the dutiful husband – was out there trying to make sure the house was up to par.
His wife slammed out the door, “How many fucking times do I have to tell your trifling ass to make sure the door is closed!” she yelled. “I work my fingers to the fucking bone and you sit around all day on that damn computer. Must be fucking nice.”
When she couldn’t get a rise out of him, she stormed away.
Soon as the SUV skidded down the street, Latrese ran to the stove to put on the tea and then rushed back to the window to wait. Last week he’d gotten locked out in the same instance and he had spent five enjoyable hours on Latrese’s couch waiting for his wife to come back. They had watched a movie together, sipped tea and just had a good time. Often times, she found his watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking and she was sure – very sure it was his vows of marriage keeping him from taking advantage of Latrese.