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“I want you to think about it,” Charlie said.
Brenda Foster looked at Charlie Wilson. He was a nice guy, a decent guy. He had a wonderful job in a local department store and he wanted to marry her.
The trouble was Brenda did not know whether she wanted to marry Charlie.
She did not know whether she wanted to be married at all.
Not again. She’d been divorced nearly ten years, she had a son, and she wasn’t certain she wanted to be married again.
In any case she had doubts whether Charlie turned her on enough.
It was nice sometimes. There were times when she really enjoyed it when they fucked, but usually it was boring.
It wasn’t Charlie’s fault. She certainly couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t Charlie, it was herself.
She knew what the problem was. She was a realist and she hated deceiving herself about things.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.