She ridiculed him when he tried to explain his behaviour as a midnight tryst.
“Grow up!” she has exclaimed, “get your head out of your arse and get in the real world.” As she finished, she handed him the broom and mop as was her way when he displeased her.
He accepted his punishment for that was how he saw it; took all her derision, in the same way, preferring to suffer the humiliation of her words in silence because fighting back was a recipe for disaster he had found.
But in his mind, he knew what he had witnessed, and tomorrow night he would go there again for she had said she would be waiting for him.
In the mists beside the stream at the bottom of the garden, she had appeared. At first, he thought he was dreaming but she came up close, so close he could smell her perfume. She smiled and reached out and touched his hand. Instantly he was drawn to her and she led him into the stream where he felt himself come alive as never before.
She surrounded him with her physical form, and he found he gave himself to her surrendering, and basking in the wonder she bestowed on him.
Her lips spoke to him through their touch on his own, telling him he was a man, one she craved, one she wanted.
He opened his eyes to find he was on the side of the stream, she was standing over him, with a smile and twinkle in her eye she asked him to come back on two days, she would love to see him again.
He returned home sated and determined to return.
All this he remembered as he went about his chores while in the kitchen his tormentor hummed “Killing Me Softly.”