Disclaimer: I gave myself 30 minutes to see what I could produce. Hopefully, it’s a serviceable submission, and doesn’t rush too much to an end.
A long hallway. Low lights made even more dim by the shadowy tones of the dark walls. Tufted, velvet benches, equally dark in palette, ran the length of the hall, themselves lined with other women waiting their turns.
“Well. It’s what I expected when I read the ad, I suppose.” She could visualize it, the words burned into her memory. “Glory hole. Anonymity required and protected.” She ignored it at first. Twenty years of marriage dictated it. And if fidelity didn’t, morality did.
“I’ve been a faithful wife for two decades, and 44 is too old to change that.” For a while, she convinced herself of it. But the prospect of the ad never strayed too far from mind. Eventually she returned to the ad, jotting the date, time, and address down “just in case.”