……was time to go home. My wife was supposed to pick me up from work and her hubby was going to collect her but it was raining heavily by that time which made them both late. We cuddled together, the little secretary and I, cuddled up close in the street doorway to our offices. In order to keep warm I kissed her and she returned the kiss while the rain poured down and some sirens screamed. Theres been an accident, someone said, hurrying by under an umbrella shiny black like a carapace. Then blue lights flashed, splashing eerily across the wet street so we kissed again. It seemed like a good idea because I was cold and so was she and both of us were tired after a hard day’s work.

Bloody weather! She opined so I kissed her again while the rain poured down all over the street, torrentially and dismally; kissed her again and she kissed me back in the dry doorway which is the way into our offices. I hope its not, she said, anyone we know in that accident. So do I, I replied, not really caring. She was very warm and very cuddly and seemed to enjoy what I was doing. So I kissed her a third time or was it the fourth, while rain still poured all over the wet, wet street.

Shall we? I asked, after a while, go on? She shook her head. No, no, we’ll get drowned for sure. We’ll wait. They’ll be along in a minute. She meant our lifts. So we cuddled into that recessed doorway while the rain poured

and kissed some more. Kissed and kissed

I could get, she said, to like this, do it again, with your tongue like you did just now. You taste like a chocolate chip cookie dipped in coffee and smell quite unlike a wet wet street.

And you taste, I told her, of this morning’s lipstick, a ham roll for lunch and seven cups of coffee, some of them cold. She giggled and wriggled so I kissed her again and she returned the kiss willingly.

I’ve fancied you, she told my ear, ever since I saw you in reception this morning in your best suit, shiny shoes and a brand new shirt with raindrops staining it.

And I’ve fancied you, I said, licking her nose, ever since I saw your knickers when you reloaded the photocopier at ten o’clock and again at three. Pale blue aren’t they? She giggled and we kissed again wetly but not as wet as the street.

I’ve still got them on, she whispered, wriggling against me, asking me to touch her gently, so I did, and found her nearly as wet at the wet wet street.

She wriggled more as she slipped them off oh so easily, off with hardly any effort at all. Off and gave them to me as a present, along with a tiny giggle and a distinct invitation in her stance.

She tasted salty down there when, grunting, jerking she let me lick her. What was she thinking about I wondered, her man at home or me crouching in that dry doorway with my head buried between her legs.

We missed our lifts needless to say, cuddled as we were into careless cunnilingus in that dry doorway while they cleared the wreckage of her husbands and my wife’s cars, crashed together on the crossroads in the pouring rain.

© Aahlu.13.10.2008.