I saw her standing on the terrace, in the
sun, looking out into the distance, so I walked up behind her and lightly
stroked the back of her arm.
“Are you ok honey?” I asked
“No not really” she replied, and the tears
welled up in her eyes as she turned towards me, so I took her in my arms, and
she dissolved completely into tears.
“It’s ok honey” I whispered, “let it all go”
And as she sobbed uncontrollably into my
chest, I kissed the top of her head.
I held her close and stroked her back until
she lifted her head and said
“I’m getting you shirt wet”
“I don’t care” I replied and she broke down
again which was when, to my eternal shame, I became aroused, I would like to
say in my defense that I was holding in my arms a very beautiful woman, and a
woman I had not only lusted after for more than five years but had been in love
with for four of those years.
What I can’t offer any excuse for was what I
was thinking as she sobbed her heart out and I consoled her with my empty
words, I was trying to imagine what she was wearing under her mourning clothes
and my arousal was reaching epic proportions as I considered all the various
options and I was so close to tipping my barrow.
I don’t know what would have happened had her
mother not come along when she did.
Her mum took her back inside to grieve more
privately but I remained on the terrace for a few minutes due to an inability
to walk.
The inability wasn’t aided in any way by the
fact that I still continued to think long and hard about the infinite
possibilities of what she might be wearing beneath her widow’s weeds.
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