It was Mary’s third visit to Blind Encounters, and she now knew the protocol. Arrival at the discreet doorway between the nail bar and the florist had to be exactly on time, a necessary precaution to ensure each client arrived unseen. Inside she was conducted to the ladies’ lounge and presented with a small glass of champagne and the eye mask. She sipped the one and adjusted the other for comfort.
“Is madam
ready?” asked a female voice.
“Quite ready,”
she replied’, nervously, wondering what her husband, Henry, would think if he
knew she was here.
Her empty glass
was taken. A hand at her elbow guided her along a carpeted corridor, into a
room, where she knew was a bed. And a man, who was, she was assured, also
blindfolded. The door closed behind her.
“Hello?” said a male voice. Familiar.
She hesitated
before replying, “Henry! Is that you?”
[A one-hundred-and-fifty-word story -16 October 2025]
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