Chapter 3: Rising Action
The crook of my elbow caught the mascara tube nosing out of my purse. I hoisted my bags to the kitchen island, unpacked, and prepared dinner for my family—steak, sea salt potatoes, and asparagus with hollandaise sauce—all with a stiff left arm, making me feel like a corporate boardroom gentleman. Just wonderful.
My name is Sarah Thompson, but you can call me the master of multi-tasking.
Frying potatoes with one hand, sautéing asparagus with the other, and nursing my left arm that's supposed to be an off-limits zone. Tonight is no ordinary night; I've made a shocking discovery about my own body—but a delectable dinner still needs to grace the table.
"Smells delicious, love!" Michael pep-talked me from the living room like a genie in the bottle.
His admiration sent a girly tingle up my spine, evoking images of my own burgeoning sensuality. Lately, uninhibited desires danced in my head, desires that vibrated from an unexpected part of my being.
Bang! The pan seared the dinner, scorching my cheeks right along with it. I tamped down the swelling fire, turning my reverie into rubble. It's just an elusive fleeting phase, I told myself, while moving the pan to the back burner.
But then, the looming figure of truth whizzed by in the form of a penis.
Shaking the thoughts away, I served dinner with a practiced smile, snapped the kids into screen-time, and Michael into an armchair. Flirtatious banter wafted between us while we dined. But I felt a tension escalating deep inside my core.
"Care for a second serving?" Michael asked, stabbing them with a carving fork, and a giggle escaped me.
"Only if you can guess what I've found on my body today," I said, battling my nerves.
Michael crossed his arms, leveling me with a smoldering gaze. That gaze that could unravel me. He leaned forward, whispering, "A long-lost button that, when pressed, sends you into a tailspin of irresistible, uninhibited desire?"
Our eyes twinkled, stealing his metaphor and keeping it. All while a strange heat unfurled in my loins.
I must admit, this feeling both terrified and thrilled me. My breath grew shallow, and I took a sip of wine, savoring its sweet, dark tones—and my newfound sexuality.
Could it be true that this long-married, soccer-mom wifey suddenly felt so—alive? All senses sparking, aching to be tended?
"Honey, are you okay?" Michael asked, sincerity dripping from his voice. His blue eyes wavered between concern, curiosity, and an almost animal magnetism.
I felt the warmth creeping up my neck and knew I was turning a shade of red as vibrant as our wine.
"I-I found something. Downstairs. On the floor." I stammered, suddenly unable to utter the truth that I'd only five minutes before sworn to unveil. The wine was a prop, a diversion, a way to rile Michael up so that I wouldn't have to say what was really on my mind.