1. Taking Chances


    Date: 9/22/2015, Categories: Mature, Author: Sisyphus, Rating: 13, Source: LushStories

    Catherine Emerson met Tom Quimby quite by accident one afternoon when he sat down on the park bench across from her in Rittenhouse Square. This was where she often ate her lunch, usually yogurt with peaches, or strawberries, before returning to work as a bookkeeper and office manager at Bronson and McGee’s Law office. Two days earlier, Catherine and her husband, Martin, had celebrated their thirty-fourth anniversary at the Avalon Bistro where they’d had their first date. It was a tradition they both enjoyed, and they could reminisce and laugh over a leisurely meal. The Avalon served Mediterranean dishes, good wine, marvelous desserts. It was now run by the original owner’s son and his wife, Dominic and Francesca, who always stopped by to congratulate them, and treated them to a glass of Muscatti, an Italian red wine, just as their parents had over the years. Catherine and Martin always sat at the same table in the corner and enjoyed the darkness, the candles, the red and white checkered tablecloth, the paintings of scenes from European towns and the soft classical music, often opera, that added to the romantic, old world atmosphere that made the evening special for them. Though neither of them had ever been to Europe, the Avalon Bistro made them feel like they were on their honeymoon and not in Atlantic City, where they actually had gone after their wedding. Catherine and Martin had a good marriage, and though it had its hills and valleys, mostly it was a plateau that often ...
    left Catherine with a feeling of restlessness she couldn’t name. Many evenings Catherine would look at Martin when he read the newspaper, or did his crossword puzzles, while she sat across from him reading one of her romance novels and wished he would say or do something like the men in the books she read. Before they married and for several years after, he was more demonstrative, more passionate; however, as the years passed, even though he was thoughtful and affectionate, Catherine’s yearning for something more intense swelled in her, and the books she read made her more aware of what she was missing. Martin always kissed her goodbye in the morning before leaving for work, a light kiss on the forehead, or on the top of her graying head when he came home for dinner. He was a good father to their daughter, Melissa, when she was growing up. He taught her to ride a bicycle, read to her at bedtime, and spoiled her with little gifts. He was dependable and conscientious about mowing the grass in their small backyard, taking the trash to the curb on Tuesdays, buying flowers for Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day, but it was Catherine who spontaneously bought flowers for the dining room table or, for no reason, would light candles at dinner, or initiate going on a picnic, or to a movie, or to the zoo and Martin would say, “Fine, anything you want dear, is fine with me.” Catherine wished Martin would suggest an idea, or initiate activities, but that never happened, and so she ended up ...
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