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The
Creaking Attic
My one
room office was on the ground floor of a converted terrace house. Pierre's
office was above mine and above his office was a tiny attic.
Pierre
and Donna had once experimented with the idea of an 'open marriage'. Donna
very quickly declared the trial over but Pierre liked it. He liked it so
much that he was never without a 'lover' on the side. Donna, who had
originally
suggested the idea, suffered in silence.
They
were both my friends, so I tried to remain objective while observing, with
some bemusement,
Pierre's
passing parade of women.
The ceilings
were thin. The rhythmical creaking from the attic could easily be heard
in my office. And so it was one day when Keith, a gentle mountain of a
man, came looking for his wife, Cathy.
Cathy,
was Pierre's latest 'lover' and had been for several months. During that
time she had also become my friend and I had been to Cathy and Keith's
home for dinner several times.
Keith
happened to be in the area and had seen Cathy enter my office just minutes
before.
He eyed
the stairway to Pierre's office and then raised his eyes to the ceiling.
I hate
to lie. Mostly because I believe it to be morally wrong, with very few
exceptions, but also because a good liar needs a far better memory than
mine. The truth needs no remembering.
Pierre
was always stressed. It tired me just watching him talking his way out
of one tricky situation after another.
Perhaps
this was one of those rare occasions when the kindest thing for all was
for me to lie. But what could I say?
Speechless,
I watched Keith, watching the ceiling. The creaking was in full swing!
He frowned,
"Must have been seeing things. If you do see her, ask her to give me a
call."
With
that he was gone.
Whew!
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moments@erotictales.com.au
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