Expectations. She is.

Who is the she in Ronovan’s short story.


She didn’t know he was standing there. He had been for sometime. What would she have done if she had been aware? It’s not like she hadn’t invited him before.

He smiled thinking about his nicknames for what he was doing. So wrong but so funny. A private joke no one else would get. Others would be horrified. He didn’t care about others.

Her hair caught the light and shimmered. That word. Shimmered. Used so many times, or the word glossy. But there were no other words to describe her hair. Liquid erotica, perhaps? One glimpse is all it took. Up, down, forward, pulled back, or fanned across a pillow. Or better yet, wet in the shower.

But now wasn’t a shower. Now was one of his favorite times. He watched her. Her mind was focused elsewhere, concentrating on finishing. Knowing if she stopped it would never happen. She had…

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