A secret non-affair (Rousse)

Once again I had sneaked up the stairs to PL’s tiny garret flat and climbed into bed with him. Nothing much ever happened on these visits. Even so, we kept them secret.

Then I looked out of the window. In the garden below was TPR in a suit, on his mobile phone. No doubt he was trying to call me, completely unaware that I was watching him from upstairs, dressed in my nightie, with my phone switched off.

I quickly pulled on some clothes, trotted downstairs, and innocently sauntered over to my husband. He was never to know of my secret non-affair.

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