I know its wrong but I feel only a slight pang of guilt for the thoughts running through my head. I empty the contents of my wine glass down my throat...and refill it. I can almost feel your hands on me, and your hard-on probing the depths of my greedy love hole. Minutes pass and another glass of wine goes down followed by another. In the back of my mind I know I should be faithful, a good girl, but each time I glance around I see your wanton gaze inviting me onto you and the bad girl in me. Faulkner and Hemingway and Woolf and others.He started Faulkner in bed. Hemingway was poised on the duvet above the hillock of his tummy. But his eyes floated over the words. He could only think of Lilly and her smile and the thoughtlessness of her tongue. The way her mouth curved. Her frankness, her opaqueness. Her long legs. Her tight arse in those jeans. But what was she – nineteen? Twenty? Ridiculous.His wife spoke out of the gloom of the other side of the bed.“Since when did you start. More

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