Member-only story
Shelia Kiernan gets ready to turn in when Robert, her husband of seven years hops in the shower. His iPhone won’t stop chirping, so she while he’s no doubt rubbing one out, his, dastardly deed, obscured by steam and quickly washed away without a trace; she grabs it from the nightstand, easily guesses his passcode, 052665, his birthday and swipes through his text messages. Her jaw drops when she sees several salacious sexts from Melanie Montgomery, his Physician’s Assistant. A wildly successful Cosmetic Surgeon with a Park Avenue office in Manhattan, his day typically starts at 6:00 a.m. and often ends at 10:00 p.m. Grueling hours. Looks like he’s found a convenient way to ease all that pent-up tension.
She comes to bed dressed in her alluring, silky red teddy, brown curls caress her shoulders; her husband reclines in bed busy with his iPhone, tucked in, all warm and toasty. Shelia quickly reaches under the burgundy comforter, between her husband’s legs and finds that she can’t hold his attention.
“I’m not feeling it! Can’t you see I’m busy?!” Robert, a fiery redhead, roars, grabs her arm and clamps down with a vice-like grip.
“Oww! You’re hurting me,” she yelps, drops the comforter frozen, like a statue.
“You asked for it!” He grits his teeth.
Shelia rolls her eyes.
