Going Down

by Madam Z

I was heading down the narrow stairs, just as he was coming up; and we stopped, at an impasse. His head was level with my hips and he looked at my crotch before he looked at my face. I tried to say "Hi, Danny," but my voice was stuck in his smokey green eyes. He reached out his hands, put one on each of my hips, and I gasped, as an electric charge seared my guts. "Don't, Danny," I think I said, or maybe thought I should have said, but he did, and I did, and we did, and we did again. And then I heard someone else on the stairs, and I was almost sorry I had ever come down those stairs, or at least thought I should have been sorry.


Madam Z, author of Three's a Crowd, knows all and hears all.