She didn’t realise until her kids had dragged her up to the glowing pumpkin at his door.
By then, too late – they’d pressed the bell; he’d opened the door. She backed into the shadows.
‘Trick – or treat,’ her kids chorused.
He winked down. “Inside, scamps – my wife has something.’
He saw her then, stepped out towards her. His lips met her neck, his remembered hands found an opening in her clothes – they always did. Warm and rough, under the lip of her panties.
Her head canted, stupidly. He was inside her already. She could only apologise.
