I wouldn’t be
keeping a souvenir. When she looked up and smiled, I felt compelled to ask. “Why
haven’t you got rid of that?” I pointed to her finger.
“What? Oh, the ring. Yes, I know
I should take it off, but my finger feels bare without it. Do you think I’m
wrong to leave it on?”
“You’re not married anymore.”
“Thank you for the reminder.”
“Does the ring not do that, all
by itself?”
“Not really. It’s been there so
long, I hardly notice it anymore.” She picked up a Japonica bush. “What about
this one. It will look pretty when it gets its berries.”
“It will, but if you plan to have
grandchildren playing in your garden anytime soon, I suggest something less
poisonous, like this Astilbe.”
She frowned. “The plant, I like. The
reference to grandchildren, I could do without,” she said.
Yeah, nice one, Johnny. Good
call, you idiot .
After my gaffe, I made sure to
keep the conversation strictly horticultural, and our trolley filled up in no
time at all. A small amount of subtle persuasion was all it took to steer
Cora’s choices in the direction of what I already had in mind. Her laugh
surfaced and despite her trying to distance herself from me, I could tell she
enjoyed herself more than she let on. A collection of shrubs for the border and
four trays of multicoloured annuals were nestled on the metal mesh, when the
clouds opened, and we rushed inside under a deluge.
I shook the rain from my head
like a wet dog, and my eyes were drawn to Cora’s chest. Her rain soaked blouse was
clinging to her hardened nipples. I couldn’t help staring, and my dick twitched
with interest.
Cora’s eyes dropped. She bit her
lip and pulled at the front of her blouse to unstick it from her breasts, but
when she let go, it welded straight back.
A sales boy appeared from behind
a stand, and stopped dead. He sniggered.
“What you looking at?” I snarled.
“Haven’t you got a job to do?”
He shrugged and returned to
studying his clipboard.
Cora folded her arms over her
embarrassment.
“Hate to say I told you so,” I
said, removing my jumper. “Here.” I draped the soggy wool around her shoulders
and arranged the dangling arms for optimum coverage, sneakily curling my
knuckles under the cuffs to cop a small feel.
She held my gaze and shivered.
“Thank you.”
***
After a tense drive home, Cora
rushed inside to change. The rain had passed and blue sky was visible between
the clouds. I set about unloading our purchases from the car, and was placing
the last pot on the path, when Cora re-emerged. Without meeting my eye, she
handed back my jumper as I slammed down the rear door. Something was wrong.
“Cora?”
“I’m going to be late,” she said,
as she climbed into the car, stuck the gears in reverse, and backed down the
driveway. She glanced across at me before hitting the accelerator.
I had no idea what had happened. Cora
had been acting perfectly normally, friendly even, up until the rain incident. After
that, she’d handed her credit card over to the cashier in silence, and even
though I tried to break it, the silence had continued throughout the journey
back to Parkside Avenue.
Her behaviour change had happened
after I touched her. Why? It wasn’t the first time. She’d said nothing when I’d
brushed a side boob whilst helping her on with her dress, or later that day,
when I’d held her hand. And she’d laughed at the handprints on her bum. Surely,
if she objected to me touching her, I’d have had a slap by now. Women were so
fucking complicated.
When Cora returned from town, she
brought the rain back with her. Her previously sodden rats’ tails had been
transformed into a smart and sexy updo of soft curls. She ran straight past me,
holding her handbag over her head.
I finished planting the line of
petunias, threw the potting trays in the rubbish, and entered through the
kitchen door.
“Cora,” I shouted. “I’m done.” Receiving
no answer, I walked down the
keeping a souvenir. When she looked up and smiled, I felt compelled to ask. “Why
haven’t you got rid of that?” I pointed to her finger.
“What? Oh, the ring. Yes, I know
I should take it off, but my finger feels bare without it. Do you think I’m
wrong to leave it on?”
“You’re not married anymore.”
“Thank you for the reminder.”
“Does the ring not do that, all
by itself?”
“Not really. It’s been there so
long, I hardly notice it anymore.” She picked up a Japonica bush. “What about
this one. It will look pretty when it gets its berries.”
“It will, but if you plan to have
grandchildren playing in your garden anytime soon, I suggest something less
poisonous, like this Astilbe.”
She frowned. “The plant, I like. The
reference to grandchildren, I could do without,” she said.
Yeah, nice one, Johnny. Good
call, you idiot .
After my gaffe, I made sure to
keep the conversation strictly horticultural, and our trolley filled up in no
time at all. A small amount of subtle persuasion was all it took to steer
Cora’s choices in the direction of what I already had in mind. Her laugh
surfaced and despite her trying to distance herself from me, I could tell she
enjoyed herself more than she let on. A collection of shrubs for the border and
four trays of multicoloured annuals were nestled on the metal mesh, when the
clouds opened, and we rushed inside under a deluge.
I shook the rain from my head
like a wet dog, and my eyes were drawn to Cora’s chest. Her rain soaked blouse was
clinging to her hardened nipples. I couldn’t help staring, and my dick twitched
with interest.
Cora’s eyes dropped. She bit her
lip and pulled at the front of her blouse to unstick it from her breasts, but
when she let go, it welded straight back.
A sales boy appeared from behind
a stand, and stopped dead. He sniggered.
“What you looking at?” I snarled.
“Haven’t you got a job to do?”
He shrugged and returned to
studying his clipboard.
Cora folded her arms over her
embarrassment.
“Hate to say I told you so,” I
said, removing my jumper. “Here.” I draped the soggy wool around her shoulders
and arranged the dangling arms for optimum coverage, sneakily curling my
knuckles under the cuffs to cop a small feel.
She held my gaze and shivered.
“Thank you.”
***
After a tense drive home, Cora
rushed inside to change. The rain had passed and blue sky was visible between
the clouds. I set about unloading our purchases from the car, and was placing
the last pot on the path, when Cora re-emerged. Without meeting my eye, she
handed back my jumper as I slammed down the rear door. Something was wrong.
“Cora?”
“I’m going to be late,” she said,
as she climbed into the car, stuck the gears in reverse, and backed down the
driveway. She glanced across at me before hitting the accelerator.
I had no idea what had happened. Cora
had been acting perfectly normally, friendly even, up until the rain incident. After
that, she’d handed her credit card over to the cashier in silence, and even
though I tried to break it, the silence had continued throughout the journey
back to Parkside Avenue.
Her behaviour change had happened
after I touched her. Why? It wasn’t the first time. She’d said nothing when I’d
brushed a side boob whilst helping her on with her dress, or later that day,
when I’d held her hand. And she’d laughed at the handprints on her bum. Surely,
if she objected to me touching her, I’d have had a slap by now. Women were so
fucking complicated.
When Cora returned from town, she
brought the rain back with her. Her previously sodden rats’ tails had been
transformed into a smart and sexy updo of soft curls. She ran straight past me,
holding her handbag over her head.
I finished planting the line of
petunias, threw the potting trays in the rubbish, and entered through the
kitchen door.
“Cora,” I shouted. “I’m done.” Receiving
no answer, I walked down the
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