Spotty Shade

100 words on Saturday.

The perfectly well made frilly bed and the crisp sheets were spotless. The crooked lampshade was the only indication of any unrest. The room was spotless, just as she had found it two hours ago.
The curtains had been pulled back, inviting in the brightness of the day, gently invading every corner of the room, every crevice of the bed and the bright sunshine illuminating and obliterating all evidence of the murky dealings and shady relations.
No one would be able to tell that the maid had sex with the eldest son while his little girl was at the park.

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