Chapter 3

Come morning, Sheila wore a smile. Even as she stretched and readied for the day, the last circuit-breakers slammed into place. Memories were just that—in the past. She was a doting mother. And a loving wife.

As she moved around the kitchen, fixing breakfast, a sense of calm, if not normalcy, returned. When Donal appeared, his greeting was limited to a terse “good morning.” While the boys jostled playfully at the table, her husband mentioned he wouldn’t be traveling for a while.

After the kids got ready for the bus, her heart thundered as she lifted onto her toes to place a kiss on Donal’s cheek. But he ignored her. Instead, he only nodded while discussing a computer game with Edward. Once she’d give the youngest a similar quick peck, they stepped outside and disappeared towards the street corner. Soon after, her husband left.

Only then did the tremors return, but she kept distracted, hurrying through the usual routine. First, a heavier workout than normal in their basement gym. Then, once the final load of laundry was complete, she peeked at the time. After a swift gulp of the last coffee, she filled a glass to the rim with red wine.

“Close enough to noon,” she murmured before taking a long drink.

In a swimsuit, she walked across the back deck to clamber into the hot tub. With the heated jets battering her still-shaking frame, sigh after quiet sigh slipped into the steamy air.

Under the pergola-filtered, brilliant sunlight, memories continued to bubble in her mind. Not those from years ago, but from the previous night. However, soon enough, the older ones reappeared. Then they merged. Whose pulse had been under her hand? That of the towering stranger? Or his powerful son?

“Both?” she whispered, took a slow sip, and exhaled.

Sun warming her upturned face, she let her eyelids flutter closed. Bombarded by the heated jets, bright sunshine, and that insistent pulsing deep within her, she squirmed on the molded plastic seat. After a quick peek through slitted eyelashes, she slipped a hand downwards and moved her legs wider.

“Just a little one,” she murmured while slipping fingertips beneath the taut yellow bikini. “Mmm, yes.” After raking soft hairs, the tap of nails on her achy clit had her shivering. “Oh, ahh, fuck. Yes, I need this.”

Another quick scan showed nothing but swaying trees and swooping birds. Jaw tight, she placed the half-full glass on the tub rim and moved the other hand to her chest. As her fingers rubbed in the bottoms, she found the stiffening peak of a boob. Fingernails pressed. Beneath the jets, she raced her digits.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. F-Fuck!” Body bucking in the suds, she sent waves of sloppy water sloshing around the tub. With an intense wave of pleasure sizzling her nerves, the entire world smeared. “Mmm, yes. Yes. Oh. Oh, yes.”

Even as she settled into the heated plastic, a hazy image appeared in her mind. When it resolved, her eyelids shot wide. With a gasp, she started to remove her hands from the suit. Yet, her imagination continued filling in the details. A thundering pulse. Its smooth heft. A massive domed bulb, designed for one purpose. That had been lurking—waiting—under Donal’s blanket.

Before she could react, her fingers sped once more. Amid her frame’s splashing again in the frothy tub, a hand shoved beneath the crumpling yellow material to crush an achy tit. Just like his father had done so many years ago. Her mouth was shaking so much no full words could escape. Instead, there was only a warbling high-pitched cry she muffled at the last moment by gnawing on her shoulder.

Long after she’d settled, panting, into the molded seat and swirling jets, she gathered her frazzled wits and stumbled inside. Two icy showers later and she was draining a second full glass of wine before collapsing for an anxious afternoon nap.

But nothing more happened. Donal and Edward came home from school. The next day, the routine continued. Bar the respite in whirling jets. Instead, she went out on a job search.

“You don’t need to work, you know?” Stanley had said as they lay in bed the prior night. “We’ve been through this before.”

“I know, but it’s time,” she replied with a smile.

“Past time,” she could’ve added before rolling to hug a pillow. Prior to the hot tub session, boredom had been her only concern. But after that sick, twisted fantasy...

“Idle hands ... And mind,” she murmured into the pillow before falling into a deep slumber.

Nobody had been surprised when she came home, announcing her new employment in a small clothing store. In Old Downtown, “Sweet Curves and Pretty Scarves” sold gauzy, bright-colored peasant-style dresses, tops, and accessories. Cotton and lace. Lots of crochet tops that would have Stanley blushing if she wore them, with or without a bra. Smelled of incense with subtle hints of marijuana. Very hippy-esque, it was owned by Elaine, a widow. The woman was ecstatic; the timing was perfect. Although only in her forties, the slender brunette was having medical issues.

As such, between the new job, even though it was only part-time, and running the house, life meandered onwards once more. There’d been nothing untoward from Donal since that single night. Nonetheless, anytime his towering presence lurked nearby, she quivered. As much as she wanted it to be out of fear, it wasn’t.

Once more, she and Edward attended his games in the evenings. Sheila had even pulled Cathy Lindstrom aside. Muscles taut, she explained in as calm a voice as she could muster. Her assessment was correct: Donal was simply too busy for girls.

At her words, although he’d remained silent, Edward’s eyes had narrowed. Right about to ask why, she jumped when the game ended. While trying her best to ignore the boys’ hushed whispering, she drove them home. Once home and on into the week, she was nervous. Except naught came of it, and she soon forgot about Edward’s unusual expression.

However, despite nothing happening, the tension ratcheted ever higher. Long gone were Donal’s furtive glances. Instead, they’d become lingering inspections. Plus, Edward was giving her sidelong looks. Both were happening more often. Whenever one or the other, or God help her, if both were nearby, her pulse hammered.