It was a tale as old as time. A cliché, even — the lonely, neglected wife and the mailman. But here I was, peering out of the curtains, my eyes darting up and down the suburban street. My hands fidgeted with my black silk robe, untying it ever so slightly to reveal my soft skin underneath. The only other thing on me was a pair of black lace panties. I glanced at the time; 3:12. And like clockwork, the white truck turned on the street, bright from the reflecting sunlight. My heart leapt in my throat as I saw him leave the truck and approach the houses on my side of the block. We’ve come so close before, so much heat and tension between us – would today be the day? He started walking towards the house, shuffling his hands through his mailbag, looking furtive. I took a deep breath — here goes nothing. I positioned myself by the door as I heard the familiar *clank* of the mailbox being shut. I took another deep breath and waited — *one… two… three*…