I am a bachelor in my 30s and here I am to
confess one of my big sins I have ever committed- having an adventure of
intimate affair with a married woman. Not until it came across me that I
realized how the least hormone could render an ordinary man so vulnerable in
that whirlpool of eroticism, leaving me spin round and round helplessly.

 Having
served *** another 4-month mission as an *** in the *** I returned home in
Xiamen for my vacation. As it used to, nothing could be so exciting as the
feeling to land once again, assuring myself of another return with a complete,
live body. I could hardly wait but take in as much soil air as I could, as
though I was just made able to breathe again. The night scenery of Xia Men is
the most beautiful picture I have ever seen. Strolling alone on the street is a
romantic episode of sorts. Sipping at a cup of Old Town coffee in a café with a
book is kind of leisure to enjoy. Mopping up floor with my favorite music on is
another delightful moment. I was enjoying every minute of my precious holidays.
One day I came across a newly run laundry nearby whereas it occurred to me that
there were a business suit left unwashed home and some clothes  requiring delicate treatment as well. On the
afternoon the following day I brought along that stuff to the laundry when I
came to know that the laundry was owned by a lady. The laundry was tidy, nicely
decorated and well organized. All things were set up properly and placed where
they were supposed to. In the corner was a bunch of tulip placed on a bronze
blue table and an abstract art of oil painting on the wall that blended well
with the painted wall. The music being played was one of my favorite songs ‘In
My Secret Life” sung by Leonard Cohen. What the every single bit of this shop
presented looked so tuned that I could tell by instinct that the lady, owner of
this laundry, was sort of thoughtful, considerate female. Out of curiosity I
couldn’t help but cast an appreciative glance at the lady across the counter
who was concentrated in her ironing work.

She was such a lady who doesn’t even need
any makeup to justify herself as a beauty. Her naturally trimmed eyebrows,
eyelashes coupled with clear lined upper eyelid, her ordinary hair, orderly
combed, allows one bunch of her jet-black  hair cascading along her satin cheek reaching
her left shoulder. Her nose, a fine-shaped ridge, stands tall on a flat terrain,
perfectly joined by her juicy, tender lips and ended up with her round, springy
chin. Her figure is rather a master piece of art gifted by God than simply a
female body. I couldn’t take my eyes off her for even a second longer than I
had to. She looked up at me and greeted me with a warm smile just when I was
about to utter a word…

“Could I be
any of your  help, Sir?” She started in a
polite manner.

“Well, I am
wondering if you could help me sell these clothes.’’ I teased.

She frowned, “Very doubtful! But one thing
for sure is that I can manage to donate them to the needy. Your trash could be
treasure of someone else."

I shrugged and found myself running out of
words to round it off. I don’t score that much on accosting ladies after all. We switched
into routine processes whereby I submitted a deposit and she handed me a
receipt in return.

“Make sure you
don’t spoil my suit, will you?”I said that for goodbye.

“Hold tight
onto your receipt and don’t let it blow away, or else I really have to sell
them.” Once again she rendered me wordless admitting that she was special in
some way. The following day I dropped by the laundry on the way home after
visiting one of my classmates. There we exchanged a glance and greeting.

“You are
coming with your receipt, aren’t you?” She asked.

“Definitely,
here you are! I don’t want my clothes sold.”I responded.

While she was packing up my clothes I
proceeded, “You remember me, don’t you?”

“My memory is
still serving me right and moreover you are identifiable in appearance.” She kept
her head down packing up the last bit when she said so.

“No one has so
far filed a complaint on how I look but it is just a matter of what distance
you choose to look at me. The farther I stand the better I look though.”

She chuckled at me to signify that I
eventually won this round. When I took over from her the package containing
nicely-folded clothes emanating a pleasant aroma of softener, inadvertently,
our fingers contacted in the air, a bolt of electricity that originated from
her slender fingers thundered through my body. She was apparently stunned and
withdrew her hand in no time leaving her own face blushed completely. Having been kept out of a sniff of
female flesh for so many years as a bachelor I thought the male hormone in me
was not functioning any longer. As it turned out I was still a ‘man’ responsive
to femininity.

From then on I became a regular, solid
customer to that laundry, sometimes even more often than was reasonable and
necessary. To spare myself the embarrassment for seeing her without a sound
reason, I would comb out every corner in my house whatever is washable such as
a pillow case, a piece of towel, even a pair of socks. With days passing by we
talked more and more, our conversation lasted longer and longer, and our topics
ranged wider and broader. At times it even tended unlimited…. In this mere
laundry were full of our joys and laughter. I couldn’t live any single day
without seeing her admitting that I had a big crush on her. Our mind seemed
readable mutually without having to mutter a word. A *** gesture, a single
move and a look in the eyes would tell all. Being a lady grown mature enough
she should be able to sense what this might imply and I did take it for
granted. But, dramatic enough, things don’t always turn out what it seemed to
be. （To be continued)