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Oops

By Lawrence Kinden All Rights Reserved ©

Humor

Oops

I looked up from my work and my coffee when she walked past me to the coffee bar.

She was a slim woman in neon green running shorts I'd never seen her wear before and a ratty old t-shirt she wouldn't let me throw out. I loved when she put her hair back in a ponytail for running. It was incredibly cute. I noted that the summer sun had streaked it with more blonde than I'd realized. Her slim figure, small, pert breasts, and round hips were only hinted at by the loose workout clothes, but I knew that underneath was a body suited to quickly raising my temperature.

I stood and followed her. She hadn't seen me yet.

It was still early, not yet seven on a Sunday, and the place was host to only a smattering of customers. I probably should have restrained myself. She wasn't overly fond of public displays of affection, but I was smitten.

Just as she was about to make her order—hot tea, herbal, a single ice cube— I stepped up behind her and spanked her bottom. It was a mild spank by our standards, but enough to make her jump and squeak and fill the small shop with our antics.

She spun around, furious. I grinned and leaned in for a kiss.

But the face glaring at me wasn't the face of my dear, lovely, wife. Instead, she was a woman I'd never seen before. From behind she had looked like my wife, from in front, she looked like fury.

"Oh! You're not... I didn't..."

"You bastard!"

I took several steps back. The shop was silent but for us. I felt everyone looking at me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I thought..."

She rubbed at her bottom where I'd spanked her. "You thought what?"

"From behind..."

"Just stay away from me, or I'll call the cops."

With all eyes on me, I gathered my stuff and fled the shop, taking the shortest, quickest route home. My skin tingled, my cheeks burned, my thoughts scattered. I barely remember making the walk home and sitting on the couch, wondering at what I'd done.

Nearly half an hour later, me still collecting my thoughts, I heard keys rattling in the door and my wife come in from her morning run.

"Honey? You home?"

"In the living room."

"I want you to meet Sue. I met her at work. You remember me telling you about her?"

My dear, lovely wife came into the living room, followed by her friend, who wore neon green running shorts and one of my wife's ratty old t-shirts. From behind they'd have looked identical.

I looked at Sue, and she looked at me.

Then she grinned. "Turns out, we've met."

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