Casual Affair

Looking at our glasses, I sighed, knowing our time over drinks was coming to an end. Our workday was done but we had obligations, places to be that didn't include lingering in the warmth of each other's company.
 
But when he took my hand, the world felt warm and real. His eyes, a deep shade of brown, looked directly into mine, and I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. I was sure he could see into my past.  
 
I watched his face carefully, feeling his tongue in my mouth as he spoke over the roar of happy hour. He still had a couple of hours to spare, he said. It was a lie, but I thought it was justified.
 
I ran my finger around the rim of his empty wineglass and put away objections as carefully as I might have placed stemware, sparkling clean, on its rack above the bar.
 
I felt a tingle in my middle as I lifted myself with ease from the barstool, gathering my purse, already explaining to myself how common this was. Marriages are broken all the time, I thought, accidentally, just like arms or legs. As we stepped into the night, I felt warm against the cool wind with his arm covering my shoulders.