Breaking News/What's Cooking?

She, him, won't be expecting
me back yet. They'll be thinking
I'm still there, cooking
the eggs and bacon.

But it's quiet this morning
so I've nipped out.
Not many guests.

What do I think I'll find?
Him between her legs,
to be honest. His behind
bobbing up and down.

I don't know what I'm going to do.
I haven't thought it through.

I'm not a butcher.
I'm a chef.
But will I pick up the bread knife,
the carving knife,
when I get in?

I don't know.

I imagine I'll never, ever,
forget the look
on her face.

Or his, when I catch him
with his pants down,
in my house,
in my place.

Watch this space.

Run