Caroline was tired of the shadows. She wanted the spotlight, demanded it even. And what better day to stake her claim than today: this unseasonably hot April afternoon.
She squeezed out a dollop of suntan lotion and massaged it into her long, bronzed legs. This wasn’t the body of some cheap, disposable mistress. She was commitment material.
Caroline checked her phone. He’d be home any minute. She knew his class schedule by heart. And who wouldn’t be thrilled to find a young, nubile co-ed waiting for them poolside?
Caroline gave it a second thought.
Maybe his wife, she finally admitted.
The Weekday One Hundred 