Simon's Wife


Simon glanced at his watch as the elevator passed the 25th floor and stopped at the 24th.  The doors parted and three people stepped on; Simon moved with the crowd to make room for the new passengers.  As the elevator dropped silently, Simon looked at his watch again.  It was 12:06.  He had only one hour for lunch and he didn't like spending any of it in the damn elevator. The elevator stopped at the sixth floor, and, once again, Simon moved with the crowd to make room. This time, he was pushed to the back and forced to endure the discomfort of being pressed between a hard wall and a fat, albeit, soft, perfume-saturated amazon.  He began to feel dizzy as the elevator stopped at the lobby.  The doors opened and a mass of flesh moved quickly toward the revolving doors that led to the street. The thirty-five-year-old stock broker took a deep breath of fresh, perfume-free, polluted city air as he walked briskly away from his office building.

As usual, it took him five minutes to reach the restaurant where he was to meet Donna.  He entered the crowded restaurant and looked for her. As he scanned the crowd, he saw a waving arm; it was Donna. He sighed and moved into the restaurant. After narrowly missing several speeding waiters, Simon reached Donna's table and slid into the chair opposite her.  He wriggled out of his overcoat and draped it over the back of his chair.

"At last. I'm here."  He took her hands in his and smiled lovingly at her. "You look great."

She did look lovely in her sexy, black dress. He was especially aware of her beautiful, blond hair that fell sensuously on her shoulders. "I'm glad you're here. I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he assured her. "The week seemed like an eternity."

"Will we be able to meet this weekend," she whispered.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)