I went over to her. I was still dressed in my apron and cleaning clothes, read old jeans and an ASU tee shirt.“Marianne?” I said, still not believ...ng even my eyes.“David! Is that you?” she said. Apparently it was a coincidence, a fortuitous accident in the serendipitous synchronicity of the eternal cosmos.“It is indeed, and you!” I said.“David, what are you doing here? You’re out of that awful place?” she said. “And, yes, of course it’s me.”“Aren’t you working...” I started.“No, no more at. .Put on the blindfold, open the door and enter. Close the door, then remove the blindfold.Following the directions on the note, I make sure the blindfold is covering my eyes. I would not want to ruin this for my wife, Trisha.Turning around, I remove the blindfold. Kneeling in the tub with a lather of soap covering her from the neck down is my neighbor, Joanne. Her black shoulder length black hair is wet, the soap-on-a-rope hangs suspended between her 36D-cup breasts. Joanne holds a loofah. More

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