Original Belief

I was thinking, Would someone else’s husband—not mine!—would Nancy Harp’s husband want the woman?

To make a judgment I thought, do I want her?

Oh, yes!

When her cutaway shirt buckled and slid, I saw the perky, side-view form of her naked breast.

Nancy Harp’s husband, I thought, must be beside himself all the time with this woman—and she was straight-legged, and she intended for her face to be pretty, and it was!

The Harps’ whole kitchen, where I met the woman—their Formica getting all the sun—the wood floor, when I looked down, I thought, It must be cherry! was driving me crazy.

Oh, I knew the woman was a do-nothing maid. Her employer, Nancy—and Nancy is my friend—told me she does not allow this maid to cook. Nancy said she told the maid, “I do that!” when the maid had said, “I could do that.”

While I watched her, the maid went this way or she went that way, ever so lightly on her bare feet. She was not upset. But, she may have considered the possi­bilities to share with me, because neither my son, nor any member of the Harp family, was on the premises, and they should have been when I got there.

At the stairs, she called, “Davey!”

It could be a blessing that I was not worried, to not know what she did not understand, because there was the problem of the language problem.

She did say, “Who are you?” so I said, “The mom.”

I underscored naughty about Davey because he should have been there at the Harps’. He said he would.

I was safe and she was safe, including Davey, with my naughty.

Something about cute and safe means the same thing to me. But I didn’t stop there. I got myself degraded.