“Here.” The
seemingly innocent waitress who served their dinner grinned when she cornered
him in a silent hallway, handing him a piece of paper. “I’ll be waiting.”
His eyes darkened and her own twinkled
mischievously.
She was gone and he looked at what she gave – her number.
He smirked.
He stopped walking
when he realized he was alone. He turned and there she was, crouching on the
ground. “What are you doing?”
His wife said
nothing, straightening up and showing him a piece of paper.
A piece of paper that
had a number
A piece of paper that
was his
image credits to oxp0q @ minus
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