SECRET HIDDEN. | By: Terry Collett | | Category: Short Story - History Bookmark and Share


And be careful, Aimee,
That Monsieur Renard
Does not see the letter,

Madame Renard says
As you hold the letter
She has given to you.

Sealed no chance of
Seeing the contents,
You muse looking at

Her, wondering whom
It is she has written
To that her husband

Must not know about,
Seeing the look of deep
Apprehension in her eyes,

The fingers touching her
Chin, the mouth slightly
Open after the words have

Left. Safe as can be with
Me, Mistress, you reply,
Pushing the letter in a

Pocket of your dress,
Feeling it there, wanting
To open and see, satisfy

Your curiosity. And donít
Be too long, Aimee, no
Chattering to other servants

While out, and while you
Are near the market bring
Some fruit, and see that the

Apples are not bruised, last
Time they were too bruised,
Monsieur Renard would not

Eat them and such a waste.
You nod and curtsey and
Leave the room, the scent

Of Madame Renard clinging
To your nose, the memory
Of Madame and Monsieur

Copulating quite vigorously
In their bed the other morning
As you went by their room

And the door partially open
And them too engaged in their
Lovemaking to notice and you

Peering through the chink, biting
Your lip, thinking of Paul and
You and the quick snatched

Moments of your own in that
Very same bed some months
Before. You open the door and

Enter the street and walk clutching
The letter tightly, wanting to know
The contents, tempted to open,

Feeling it between fingers, but
No, its secret must remain secret,
And you must go and post and

Shop and do as you are bidden
For the secret of this and other
Things must sometimes be hidden.

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