Deliberately
 
“We’re going to North Berwick”, she said.
The pain rushed in from nowhere, yet somewhere close by.
The knots in my stomach tightened.
I said nothing.
North Berwick. The most fabulous day.
Before that it had been Portobello Beach,
him talking to the huge dog, whose master’s wife had died.
Then looking in the Estate Agent’s window in Musselburgh.
Him rubbing my neck, my back, my bum, the man beside us tutting.
Me wanting him so much.  Well before lunch.
Getting absolutely soaked. Again.
Jeans sticking to my legs, heavy.
Him in his mandatory shorts, rain glistening on his specs.
Trying to get dried with the heating full blast in the car.
Only last year but so long ago.
Before I went crazy.
It rained again today.
Totally soaked again today.
Dripping wet into the restaurant, trying not to cry.
Remembering so well.
Him falling asleep on my shoulder on the bench by the sea.
Me stroking his head.
Wanting him.
I couldn’t keep my hands off him.
Always touching his bare knee.
Slipping my hand inside the leg of his shorts.
Under the table.
In the car.
Wanting him to stop the car on the way home.
Jacques Loussier playing “Bolero”. For twenty nine minutes.
Slooshing through the floods on the road. 
And laughing.  Always laughing.
My overwhelming orgasm, that took us both by surprise.
So intense. So quick.
Me on top.
At four in the afternoon. Back in my bed.
God, I loved him then.
Before his life got in the way.
Before his supposed ex-wife got in the way.
Before I went crazy.
Before I destroyed it.
Deliberately.