"When you come to me this evening you will say the words. Be here at 7." She rang off and I replayed her words in my mind. Isobel lived three streets ...way from me. I’d been to her house before. It was grand, Georgian and rather bohemianly adorned with tapestries, art works and curios. “Be here at 7." When I got there, the outer door was open onto a small porch with a tiled floor. The inner door, its top half of frosted glass, was closed and a little hesitantly I rapped on it. I waited for what. "Shit. I forgot the fencing. Ah, crap."Fencing is laborious work that takes nothing but time, time and more time. Fuck it. I called the contractor. I had him fence in eight acres of mixed-use land with three-strand barbed wire. With all his other commitments it would take about a month.The clover was filled in and the grasses were up. It was time for the beef and the deer to be shipped in.This is how I spent most days.4:00 get up, get dressed and watch the garden for critters until dawn.6:00. I pretended to be shocked and placed my left hand over my pubic area as he held the clipboard. I signed it and apologized for being in the shower as I let my hand move away so he could get a look at my shaved pussy. He thanked me and walked away. I must admit that in a matter of a few minutes, I was on the sofa taking care of matters since that always makes me need an orgasm. I won't tell my husband about it since he always wants to share my experiences which he does sometimes while we are. He could hear the faint sounds of crying coming from inside.Satisfied that she had finally felt some of the pain he had gone through over the last while, he returned to his room to sleep.Sleep refused to come, however, and his feeling of victory soon turned hollow and dead, as he pictured his beautiful mother crying at the cruel things he had said.Finally he rolled over, throwing off his sheets, and looked at the clock. It read a little past one. He stood, not clear on what exactly he was going.
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