Days passed, and Sasha often drew herself back into the fantasy of the younger man she had met the week prior. She wondered if he had given her another thought, or if, more than likely, he had moved on to someone else. For her, it was an exciting entanglement that left her feeling more alive than she had in years. To be acknowledged for who she was at her core, to be admired from a distance as he had supposed, and to be adored at a heart-racing level of intimacy usually reserved for the love her husband had once bestowed upon her. Caleb was a man who, in spite of his age, had captured her imagination and let it grow untameably wild with want. But as the days turned into weeks, Sasha went about her life with a twinkle in her eye, knowing what could have been, even if it never was. One sunny Thursday afternoon, she was walking home from a rather liquored high tea with girlfriends, when all of a sudden, something stopped in her tracks. There he was. The man. The imaginary legend that had led her to multiple orgasms since they first met. Caleb was standing in the middle of the footpath, one house down from where she lived. She became suddenly flustered, looking around to see if anyone had noticed him before hastily walking over to him, taking him by the hand, and leading him around the corner of the driveway. Checking to see he was hidden him from view, she proceeded to unlatch the back gate to the garden, leading him through to the privacy of her own space. ‘Breathe,’ she reminded herself. “What are you doing here?” she snapped in an accusing tone, not giving him a second to say hello. Her heart was beating hard and fast, her mind spinning with thoughts of being caught. Perhaps she reacted too abruptly, perhaps she should have been more casual. “I was in the neighbourhood,” he replied, chuffed with his reasonable answer as his hands dabbled around the collar of his jacket. “You never called, so I thought I would make the first move.” He stood bravely in front of her, suited head to foot, with matching belt and shoes. He looked suave in a suit, making her wonder what he actually did for a living. She wondered how he had found her. She wondered what was going through his head and why he was there in the middle of the afternoon. “The first move? There is no move. I’m a married woman, and how…?” she trailed off, him smiling devilishly into her eyes as if admitting to a secret she knew nothing about. She put her hands on her hips before crossing her arms, leaning back then gesturing her hand in a way that forced an explanation. Her eyes felt burdened with a secret she had hoped to untangle, forehead wrinkled in distress. “Fine,” he said obediently, hands in pockets as if to draw…