Im Zack. he said, offering his hand. Julia Green, she responded, lightly shaking his hand while keeping her eyes transfixed on his. Well, Ms. Green, Zack said, leaning in closer. Surely a woman as beautiful as yourself can not be here alone. Its Mrs., actually, she explained, flashing her wedding ring. And my husband is better off without me at his side right now. Zack seemed undaunted in light of the new information, and Julia began to wonder how many of these high society bimbos he had already seduced. Well, he must be a fool then, he said smiling. In that dress, you wouldnt be able to keep me away. Julia smiled in appreciation and took another drink. Listen to you, she said, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. Arent you the sweet talker. I can be sweet, he explained, turning to get some more champagne for one of the waiters. I bet you can, Julia exclaimed, feeling her panties begin to dampen. The alcohol was beginning to to hit her, and she was feeling. *** Silence lay like a heavy blanket over the darkened house. It was well into the witching hour — the hour when regret, self-reproach and self-recrimination came out to play, when the memories of carefree youth and innocence clashed against the realities of middle age and guilt. The woman sat in her darkened office, scrolling through photographs on her laptop. Her husband had long since gone to bed, eschewing the customary good-nights and sleep-wells. She couldn’t blame him. He probably thought she was going over her company’s accounts, rather than reviewing the photographic evidence of their lives together. Just as well. She didn’t particularly want him to know this maudlin side of her. She’d arranged the photographs chronologically. She was nothing if not orderly. There were several photographs of their time at the university, taken by fellow students whose post graduate successes had sent them far afield. She prowled their Facebook profiles and wondered what might have been had.
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