Liz Haigh lives in Cheshire in the UK. She works at a university library which is her dream job because she loves books. Most of her published work thus far has been in the form of book reviews which have appeared in Red Magazine, Woman and Home and Prima. She recently had a very interesting article published in Gardener’s Weekly all about Garden Sheds.

The Third Thursday of Every Month (July 20, 2010. Issue 19.)

“It’s just sex.” She tells me. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

I don’t argue with her. Initially, I was just grateful for the sex. It’s good sex too, top shelf stuff. The kind some guys would pay very good money to watch. Except it might be hard to watch us as we always do it in the dark. Even though we always meet on a Thursday afternoon and it’s light outside, the room has thick curtains which are always closed. Once I asked if we could open them.

“No” she said.

“Does only your husband get to fuck you in the daylight?” I asked.

Then she hit me, really hard. She started to pull on her clothes and head for the door but I grabbed her and pulled her back on the bed. She tried to fight me but I held firm, not harming her or forcing her, just keeping her still until she calmed down.

“Sorry,” I said.

Then we made love, not wild and fierce - which was pretty much the norm but very slow and tenderly. I never mentioned her husband again after that.

Sometimes, afterward she falls asleep. I try my hardest not to. I love the feeling of her asleep beside me. At five on the dot her alarm on her phone rings. She is instantly alert and jumps up to go and lock herself in the bathroom and wash all trace of me off of her. I always pull her back for one last kiss before she does, as I know I won’t be allowed to touch her afterwards. The last kiss never lasts long enough.

We only meet the third Thursday of the month. February is my favorite month because I don’t have to wait so long till the next one then. It’s July, now twenty-six days twelve hours and counting until the next time.

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A Little Indiscretion (December 20, 2009. Issue 12.)

I did not imagine it. As the officer asked me for my driver’s license he was definitely staring at my bosom. I had to think fast. I couldn’t afford to get a speeding ticket. How would I explain to Jim being on highway seventeen at one a.m. in the morning when I was supposed to be at my sister’s in New Jersey?

Desperation made me bold. It was only when I suggested to the officer that instead of showing him my ID, I showed him my breasts that his eyes moved up to my face.

“Okay” he said, just like that. I wondered if people made such offers all the time. I took a deep breath and began to open my blouse.

“Not here,” he barked. “Get in the back of the patrol car”

As I reluctantly climbed out of my car and got in the back of the police vehicle, I began to suspect that the officer was hoping for more than just a quick peek. My fears were confirmed when, as I began to undo my blouse, I felt his hand, first on my knee, then moving slowly up my inner thigh.

I was shocked the way my body began to respond, the feeling was not completely unpleasant but my mind, still racing forced reality to kick in.

“You know, a speeding ticket only costs around $50 and I am not sure if I should let myself go for that” I said. The officer kept his hand where it was.

“You said you couldn’t afford to pay.”

“I can afford to pay. I just can’t afford for my husband to find out where I have been”

The officer laughed. “Well a little indiscretion might be worthwhile to keep your secret safe.”

I pulled away. I shut my knees together to block his progressive fondling.

“The thing is” I said. “Maybe it is time I told my husband the truth. Maybe I should leave him.”

If my words made the officer angry, he didn’t show it. If anything my words seemed to bore him. He asked me what my husband did for a living.

“He is a county judge,” I replied. The officer sat upright so quickly his head hit the patrol car roof.

“You shouldn’t do anything too hasty, now let’s get you home.” He then helped me out of the patrol vehicle and back in the front of my own car, so fast I didn’t even have time to do up my loose blouse buttons.

I was careful to stay within the speed limit for the rest of my journey. I don’t know what possessed me to tell the police officer my husband was a judge. It just sounded so lame to tell him he was a plumber.

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i want u 2 no (August 20, 2009. Issue 8.)

From: sexycat@hotmail.com

To: daz1988@yahoo.com

Subject: i want u 2 no

-----------------------------------------------------------

darren

i want u 2 no i did not rip ur signed Eminen poster down the midle on
purpos - i sliped as i was takin it down from my bedrm wall - if u'd let
me keep it then it wud still be in 1 peace!!! - but thats 4 u 2 deal
with

also yes i have heard every 1 sayin it - but i don't no were all these
rumors came from about ur dick bein like a pencil & u not being able to
get it up - it's not my falt so get over it

now im not threatening u or anything - but if u dont give me my american
zombie dvd back i am goin to tell emma jones how u fancy her & u no how
she tells butch everything & how violent butch gets when he is jealous

urs - well not urs anymore

sharon x

ps i hear u r c-ing tracey felps now??? - gud 4 u.!!! I heard all the
lads at rbs talking about her last nite - they sed she woz a reel goer

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