What do you think?

[kelby_lake]

I felt as if...it wasn't worth it. The thing I called my life becoming hours spent waiting in a dull hotel room, looking out of the window and wringing all the excitement I could out of a patch of grass. Just waiting until 1 o'clock, or 4 o'clock, or 9 o'clock, or whenever the hell he would next deign to show up. Tentatively I suggested that he call me and we arrange times properly, but he told me that he couldn't give specifics, only estimates.

I waited for estimates, I realised. Like waiting for the shopping to be delivered, but more heartbreaking. Because I really could pull myself out of this mess. I could go back to Hugh- he didn't know of the affair. On the train back to York, I could concoct some mundane plausible excuse for my month's stay in London. Hugh was the sort of person who believed whatever he wanted to, and I knew him well enough to make a pleasing enough story for him.

But no, here I was, in a perfectly nice London hotel room, with a perfectly nice window out onto a rare square of green and something faintly like a water feature.

[DickZ]

Well, unless you're a resident of London, that's probably a pretty good place to get stuck. As long as you're there, go ahead and do some sightseeing. You can't top London with any other city, in my opinion.

Other than that, you've done a reasonably good job of capturing a tiny slice of the futility of extra-marital affairs. You could probably expand this considerably, but then maybe you're too young and haven't come up with enough stuff to expand it with. Keep at it.

[kelby_lake]

Thanks :)

That's just a taster- my imagination normally starts out of sequence.

[kelby_lake]

The phone rang. Finally, thank god, it rang. And I answered:
'Is your wife there, Pete?'
There followed a pause, which made my slender wrists quiver nervously. It wasn't her, was it? Why didn't I check to see it was him?
'No, she's not there.'
The sense of relief I felt then was tremendous- like a wave that had just crashed and then calmed.
'Are you going to meet me tonight?'
'There?'
'Well, where else?' I replied, aggressively. I really ought to have slammed the phone down, or told him to forget it, but instead I apologised profusely.
'It's okay,' he said, soothingly. 'I'll see you there at 8:30. You know I'd come sooner, but Lindsey's cooking some fancy foreign dish tonight so...'
'I see. See you then, I guess.'
'Then it's settled'
'I love you'
'And I love you, silly.' He hung up. I'd have liked to spend longer talking to him; we never seemed to have any time. Blankly I stared up at the ceiling, flopped on the bed. I couldn't ask for time, because I knew I wouldn't get it. I was the bonus feature to his marriage: nice, but not necessary.

[fabkebab]

I thought this was good - My only minor criticism is that the woman describes her wrists as slender - it seems a bit narcissistic - something like boney/thin would seem better IMHO