“I’m going out,” he said to her back. She mumbled as she
scrubbed the carpet and didn’t turn around.

She heard his steps, the front door open and close. When she
heard the engine of his car catch and start, a mischievous
smile played around her lips and she raised her head.

If he was not mired in his own lusts he might have noticed
she was remarkably clean for a person scrubbing a carpet on
her hands and knees. If he’d looked into her face he’d see
she wore makeup. But Howie was so hot to get to his gal he
had no idea what was going on with his wife.

Nina pushed the bucket and scrub brush to the side of the
big plush chair, took off her long yellow gloves, rose to her
feet and walked into the bedroom.

She pulled the bag off her head, plucked out the rollers,
fluffed the style, then to the closet, where under the old
brown dress she pulled out a tight red number.

Nina took off her ragged house dress, exposing expensive
underwear.

In five minutes she was dressed and out of the back door,
through her neighbor’s yard, onto the next road. The taxi
pulled up within minutes. She had Howie timed so well she
could book a cab at five o’clock for eight and know that by
seven forty, Howie would be gone.

The cab took her to the club where she met her lover. They
spent an hour before going to his apartment. They made love
twice, then he put her into a cab.

Nina arrived home at midnight, quickly undressed. She
returned the red dress to its hiding place, her shoes
stuffed inside of water boots.

In the bathroom she hid her good underwear in the laundry
bucket, she’d wash them tomorrow when Howie was at work.

She scrubbed her face, creamed her skin, popped rollers back
into her hair, raced into the living room, pulled on the
yellow gloves, went over the carpet in five minutes flat,
just to leave it with that awful wet smell.

She disposed of the bucket water in the toilet, put away
the brush, shut the lights, got into bed. At ten minutes
to one, Howie drove in.

She couldn’t help but laugh, then pretended to be asleep.