I hope I don't write as terribly as I think. please enjoy *bows*
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temptation.
My eyes rested on the delicate crown of spring flowers on her sun-kissed hair. Her beauty.
I saw how her hazel light brown eyes bashfully avoid all eye contact with mine. Her hair glistened in the sunlight, with her fringe perfectly in place. Her innocence.
I recognised my fervent attraction to this girl, this beautiful creature. I saw her pull the hem of her skirt nervously. I smiled. My temptation.
However, the face of another woman suddenly plagued my mind, and dark colours swirled in this memory.
"Who is she?" the woman screeched and pointed, frowning.
I felt the light touch of her behind, on my back, as she stood terrified behind me.
It sent chills down my spine.
I looked back at the woman in front of me. I noticed how the frown brought out the bags under her eyes and the deep lines on her face.
I cringed.
Carla, my wife.
I felt a hand rest gently on my shoulder and awoke from my slight daze.
"What's wrong?" her melodic voice sang. Her pure voice just soothed my tense soul.
"Is there something wrong with me? Don't you like my new skirt?" She asked, frowning slightly.
I hated it when Daisy frowns. It ruins her immaculate face. I brushed my fingers over her eyebrows, and her frown instantly disappeared.
I looked down at her skirt. It was a tight one, and I liked it. It hugged all her curves perfectly.
"No, you look beautiful, my love," I paused, sliding my other hand up her waist, playing with her.
"Always." I ended, pulling her closer to me. She giggled as I whispered in her ear. I know she likes it when I do that.
I bit her bottom lip, only smiling as a soft groan escaped her lips and she opened up to me.
Temptation.
Daisy was insecure when I first met her, which made me want to protect her even more. But she surprised me by saying she did not mind our age gap.
When she hugged me tight under the pouring rain, saying she didn't want me to leave, my heart just...
It felt just like with Carla, 20 years ago. I want to relieve it all over again.
Under the rain, I asked, "Do you want to be mine?"
I braced myself for her rejection.
"Yes, yes I do." She replied.
Temptation.
I stopped going home.
I stopped answering her phone calls.
I stopped caring for my family.
"Where have you been going?" she shrieked as I enter the place I used to call home.
"I have been busy." I answered shortly.
I looked at her. Her eyes, red and puffy from crying, glared at me intensely. Her hair, strewn all over, messy from days of neglect. Her cheeks, her sallow hollow cheeks, worn out from the test of time.
