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Monday, May 11, 2015


Welcome! This week's prompt is "twenty". I'm continuing Maggie's Story. Don't forget to go back to Tuesday Tales for awesome stories! 
Maggie pulled the sheet up to cover her chest, then sat up, resting her elbows on  her knees. John smoothed his palm down her bare back.
“What’s to become of us? We can’t carry on in their home. I guess we’ll have to sneak away now and then.”
“We’re together every day, Sweetheart.”
“Not really. You’re driving, I’m cleaning. You’re running errands, I’m cooking.”
“Just like any husband and wife. Then we’ll have evening time together.”
“Where? Where will we go? Your room or mine?”
John chuckled. Maggie slapped his leg gently.
“Stop. You know what I mean. Not for lovin’, just to talk. Watch TV. Like regular folk. We’re not regular folk. We’re servants.”
She sighed.
“Maybe, if we shared a bedroom, they’d let us turn the other one into a sitting room?”
“Fancy that!” She laughed. “I’m sure they’d find some use for that extra room.”
“You don’t know The Roberts long. I’ve been with them for two years. They’re not like that. Besides. If they make it nice for us, we’ll stay.”
Maggie turned to face John. “I’m not moving in with you, to live together in sin. Nope.” She shook her head.
“Then marry me,” John cupped her cheek.   
Maggie’s eyes watered as silence filled the room.
“Oh come on. You wouldn’t've spent the night if you didn’t care for me. You’re not one of those easy girls.”
John passed a tissue to her and Maggie wiped her eyes.
“I’m not. But what if we have a child? Where will we live? We can’t stay there.”
“We’ll save our money. And when junior comes along, we’ll have enough to get our own place.”
“You want a child?”
“With you, Maggie? Delightful. Heavenly.”
She grinned. “You’re such a silly man. How could I marry someone so silly?”
“How could you not?”
Maggie lay back down, snuggling her head into his shoulder. John leaned over and kissed her neck.
“Fancy a repeat?” He whispered. She nodded.
Later, they toted egg sandwiches and coffee to the beach. It was eight o’clock in the morning. They had the shore to themselves.
“How do you want to do it? Tell them or sneak off on our own?” He asked, offering her a sandwich.
“On our own. My mum'd say we don’t have a chance.”
“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“You don’t know me.”
“Are you a serial killer? Bank robber? Con woman?”
She shook her head.
“How long d'you think it'll last?” She asked.
“I wasn’t really thinking much beyond the first twenty. But I’d guess a good fifty years or so.”
Maggie laughed. “Fifty. That’s all?”
“Til death then. That do it?”

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