The Affair That Never Was

She’s started wearing skirts again. And heels.
Her lips are lick-bright crimson; what they say
is whispered promise… even while she reels
off information (with an overlay
of laugh-congested, low massaging tones).
Professional and married, she’s confused.
A neck caress still fuels her daydream moans-
but was it only friendly? She’s bemused
and wonders if his mouth stays sweetly curved
for her, or is that just habitual charm?
She meets his eyes but shies away unnerved,
then chatters on with business-minded calm.
She’ll dwell on tiny incidents for days
but guilt won’t let a hint infect her gaze.