Weekly feature by: Cara L McKee

My father’s friend hooked his fingers
in my fishnets,
touching the skin of my thigh.
I caught my breath, not in pleasure
(did I need to tell you?)
but in the shock of transgression.

I got to my feet to leave,
made for the door while
he begged me not to tell.

He explained that
I had led him on:
the short skirt, the slutty tights,
I should forgive him
this one mistake.

In the doorway he was smaller
than I’d remembered