Miss M

Today I met with Miss M. Miss M is my favorite young woman. Even my wife likes her. Miss M came to me at a time in her life where kept her head down and avoided eye contact. I told her one afternoon that I liked her eyes and I wanted to see them when I talked to her.

Later on, a couple of years later she was sitting across from me and she smiled when I looked her way and she let me see her eyes. I think that is the day she took over my heart. She's been there ever since. That day I told my wife her look had stricken me.

Now Miss M is possibly, no probably, the prettiest girl I have ever worked with. And the one girl I've worked with that snuck into my heart and stuck around. My wife is the one that started calling her Miss M, her way of not divulging I was stricken by an employee. Miss M. I liked it and that became her pet name.

At a given, unplanned, point things became intimate. My wife wouldn't use more direct references, "were you intimate with her last night?'. Well, yes, but let's talk about the new carpet. Miss M has been a central part of my life now for some time. She smiles, her eyes sparkle, and she got my number. My wife might tell it differently. But not once has she ever called her a bad name, or worse 'the other woman'. No, she just refers to her as Miss M.