Prettyintelligentprincess

She didn't know what to wear on that day.
That day of madness and solace and sin.
She should wear those red shoes
High, gleaming, pointed;
Wickedly smiling from her wanton wardrobe.

'Harlot!'
He'd called her yesterday.
She'd squirmed in warm delight
And opened her legs some more,
Red heels glinting in the bedroom sun,
Shimmering reflections dancing on the mirror.

Desires tangled in her web
Taut and tantalising.
Temptation; she never could resist
Loving the serpent,
Its slimy trail
'What a naughty girl you are...'

Red.
Passion and warmth.
Fire and danger.
A beating heart of blood and love.
She broke out of her garden long ago
When the blossom fell
When the fruit shrivelled.
When the vermillion sunset melted her skin
Into glowing wax.

Just remembered...four nights ago, when under canvas, my 'phone rang...a number I did not know. It was late, after midnight,I was in the throes of orgasmic texting with France....So I ignored it. However, the caller was persistent. So I answered...well picked up and listened otherwise the whole campsite would have heard! A female caller.
I remained silent.
She called again and again. Still, I remained silent...Eventually she stopped and I completely forgot about it until just now...
Maybe, just maybe it was IP's wife...
Now it makes sense.

She found some texts I'd sent...allegedly. He's promised he will put a stop to things...she clearly has no concept that I am only the very tip of a huge iceberg. What's more, if she will not make love to him, then what on earth does she expect? There is no way he will stop doing what he has done for such a long time.
IP sounded most contrite and so very sorry; so very sorry not to have me in the woods. It did appear to be a thorough and detailed, rather flattering message and whether he has told me the truth or not does not actually matter. IP is no more and it's created some breathing space in my adulterous diary.
I'm tense and on edge with the children now. I need some selfish sex time soon.
Also the worry connected with work is simmering in the background...it never goes away. There will be loads to do soon.
The Director's chair can now be filled next week; as well as this an anxious France still wanting flesh as opposed to electronic...but he does live a considerable distance away.

Must dash. Need to pop my knickers on!