Where were you the last time your memory wandered? At your job? At your dinner table? Or perhaps you were as unlucky as I was. The last time my past caught up with me, I was face to face in conversation with my wife. My fellow gentlemen, be wary. When your mind wanders into the graces of your past your face will betray you to your present company.
I work like most men do. Harder than I’d like, longer than I’d like, and for less pay than I am worth. I come home kiss my children, throw my arms around the woman I married, and proceed to relax if there is a way too.
I eventually end up in my arm-chair, in front of the television. My shoes at the door, my dog at my feet, my wife beside me blithering on about her day, she very rarely asks me about mine anymore.
This night was exactly that way. I was sitting, relaxed, flipping channels by remote when my wife started in with her daily babble about how much she paid for coffee, and what her boss said that was outrageous.
By sheer accident, I actually heard part of the conversation. A new client, a name I knew. Where did I know the name? My wife spoke again saying this woman client knew me, sixteen years ago. And then more swiftly than changing a channel, my mind rewound to a face I had long since forgotten.
She was young, barely more than a girl, but old enough to be considered a woman. Most would say she was too young for me. Helping her through her first day on my team I was by her side and before an hour was over, I was under her spell.
Her touch was soft, her body was warm, and her innocence was still intact. I wanted her. I would have her in time. But nothing was sweeter than that first day.
Lost in the thought of that long hair in the breeze, those thick thighs climbing a ladder. I didn’t notice my wife had stopped talking.
She was staring at me.