“Bloody hell.” She pulled her door keys out of her bag. It was the second time that month she’d forgotten her office key-fob. Trevor always told her to keep it on the same ring as her door keys but she never did get round to putting them on. Odd, she thought, as she approached the house. The curtains were still drawn and the milk was still left on the doorstep. Only several minutes ago, she had left him with the washing up to do and the cat to feed. He was dressed and washed and…

“Ooh, yes.” Trevor called out.

Heart pounding, Valerie opened the letterbox and listened. “Oh yes. Give it to me,” he shouted. There were three loud bangs and then a thud. She lurched back and ducked behind the wheelie bin. There was someone there, someone with her Trevor, in her house.

A tear rolled down her cheek. Had she bored him with their predictable routine and their healthy diet? Exercise on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Pulses at least twice a week. No dairy, sugar, bread or artificial sweetener. Television was for peasants. Had he not enjoyed their reading and analysing of War and Peace? Sex was the first Wednesday of every month, well she didn’t have time and these things take time, best to schedule them in she’d once read in a magazine.

It began to spit. Little cold drops fell onto her uncovered hair which began to dampen into a light frizz. Great, she now had to confront her cheating husband and his lover with a frizzy down do. Slowly she stood and stepped towards the door again. “Oh yes, I’ve really missed you and what you do for me and … that’s so good.”

She held the key in her hand. Shaking, she couldn’t insert it into the keyhole. It clanked as it fell to the floor.

“Every Tuesday, me and you.” That was his voice. Tuesday, the day he had a late starting shift. Every Tuesday when she’d gone to work he had that woman over while she slaved away in that office for them, for their house, for their lifestyle.

She grabbed the key from the ground and placed it in the keyhole. Gently turning it, she hoped he wouldn’t hear. Wishful thinking – she almost knocked their wedding photo off the console table as the television burst into life – morning TV, cookery.

“Oh yes, again, you want me to have you again?” She heard him say.

There was a loud bang on the wall. She flinched and ducked into the stairway. He was in the kitchen, they were in the kitchen. She began to sob. She and Trevor had never done it in the kitchen and now he was there, with some tart in their kitchen, doing it. Passionately; wildly and bloody well regularly. Shaking with anger, Valerie gritted her teeth. She flattened her hair down and dusted off her skirt. There was no way she would be seen looking scruffy in front of his floozy.

What would happen to the house, the cars, and their holiday home? She began to sob an angry cry. Nose filling, she had no choice but to wipe it on her hand. Great!

Take the first step, she told herself. It’s just one step after another. Slowly, she approached the kitchen, and the door was slightly ajar. She peeked through. Trevor screamed and banged the table. She stepped back. They were on her table, the same table that housed the micro sprouts and the aduki bean stew ingredients that she’d laid out, ready to make their tea with. Her heart was now trying to force its way up her windpipe.

“Get out of my house!” Valerie shouted, as she burst through the door. Trevor leaped up off the floor.

“Hello Dear.” His voice was a quiver. “I was just, well err… how long have you been there?”

“Long enough. You’ve deceived me. I never thought you could ever do this to me. You’ll be hearing from my solicitor later.” She recoiled with disgust at the aftermath sprawled out before her. The air was filled with stench, lies and Trevor – the man she no longer knew. There is no way she could ever be with a man who had deceived her so badly.

“Please, please forgive me. It won’t happen again. I was only going to have one Double Decker but then it turned into cheese and onion crisps and several Dime bars and well you can see the rest.”

Valerie stood there open mouthed. Things were much worse than she could’ve ever imagined. Trevor had given himself over to a sin far worse than the flesh of another woman. “Tell me Trevor, where have you been hiding all the wrappers on ‘these’ Tuesdays?” She crossed her arms.

“At work in my bin.” Trevor looked down. He’d been caught out. Living with a sugar-binging slob was not her idea of a healthy marriage. They both waited in awkward silence. She didn’t look at him. He didn’t look at her.

Defiantly, he stood tall and stared at her, shaking as he spoke. “It’s good. You should give it a go. I guess I must be missing something really vital in my life but it’s definitely not bloody aduki beans. There we go, I’ll say it openly, I hate aduki beans.” He peeled back the wrapper of a Cream Egg and held it up to her nose. “Go on, just this once, you know you want to.”

Valerie could smell the warm chocolate. After denying herself for so long she’d convinced herself she no longer liked it. He bit it and kissed her hard. His chocolate flavoured mouth covered hers. She slapped him and pushed him back.

“It was good, wasn’t it? Desire is a powerful thing. Have the rest,” he said as he came closer. She couldn’t hold back any longer. He was right and she was going all quivery at the knees. She licked the sugary filling from the egg, it was the most scrumptious thing she’d had in her mouth for a long time. She placed her finger in to the gunge and pulled out a thick glug and licked it off. “Told you,” he said as he joined her. She grabbed the rest and placed it in her mouth, groaning hard as it pleasured her taste buds. What had she denied herself all these years? She grabbed him hard and allowed her tongue to entwine his, so much pent up passion. He threw her amongst all the wrappers and open packets onto the kitchen table. They screamed and fumbled, laughed and well – the rest is censored.

The divorce never did happen but the passion did. Valerie now eats chocolate once a week with Trevor. The dining room table has now been christened and so has the garage, the summer house, and the lawn mower – don’t ask. Trevor is happy with his new diet.

The end.

If you enjoyed this quick read, check out my holiday novella, Meet Me at Marmaris Castle.


About Carla

Welcome to my blog! I’m the author of the DI Gina Harte Series, first book is called The Next Girl. I love and live for writing and reading (and sketching - haha). My other passion is filmmaking. My feature film 'Penny for the Guy' is a work in progress. If you enjoy a bit of horror, look out for it in the future. I'm on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and LinkedIn. Feel free to join me on other platforms. I blog about many random things but books, travel and art are my favourites.
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