Vixen sat on the vanity, legs crossed, toes twitching, trying to anticipate the irregular drops of cold water from the tap. Her nose inches away from the toothpaste-speckled mirror, one hand pulling her eyelid taut, the other dragging a pencil across the lash line. She applied a vivacious red to her lips, smacked them twice, leaned in close and kissed the corner of the mirror.
Then she climbed down, went through the house to make sure the panties she’d hidden were sticking out from under the bed just enough.
She wished she could be there when his wife came home.