Mistake

He watched as she jumped from his bed, franticly grabbing her discarded clothes off the floor.
He smiled at her frenzied dash to put them on, chuckled at her fucking crying, while he lit up a joint.
She kept saying this was a mistake, she never meant to sleep with him. She never meant to spend the night.
He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.
She said he had seduced her, tricked her, she was married, happily married; this was a mistake.
 He huffed at her pathetic murmurings, still lying naked and exposed in the muddled bed watching the rings of smoke float around his head.

She made a mad dash toward the door. “This was a mistake,” She said, looking like a fiasco.
 He shook his head at her, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. “Lady, ain’t no mistakes in this world, just what you do and don’t do. And you, you did it fucking well.”

She frowned; said nothing just slammed the door behind her, leaving him to chuckle.