Chapter 2: The Spark Ignites

May bloomed in Miami like a fever dream, the air thick with rain and hibiscus. Sofia’s office smelled of stale coffee and dusty books. An email pinged. Ugh. Another vague invite from Stanmueller’s office for a “select faculty retreat,” signed with his usual flourish, hinting at “exclusive opportunities.” Dr. Harper mentioned his name last week, smirking about “private gatherings” for tenured elite. What’s that guys deal? She dismissed it, the thought fleeting against her workload.

Obsidian’s images clung to her, Lena’s moans echoing in her dreams, the stranger’s thrusts replaying in quiet moments. She’d wake gasping, lace panties soaked, the air heavy with her own scent. Soon after her vibrator’s buzz would cut through the silence, sliding against her clit, hips bucking as she pictured Lena’s golden skin, the mirrors’ gaze. But morning brought excuses. The kids need me stable, tenure’s on the line, I’m not that woman. She buried the hunger, grading papers with ferocity, the click of her keyboard loud, coffee’s bitterness grounding her, telling herself Obsidian was a one-off thrill.

Lena texted relentlessly: “Obsidian again? Fire and Ice part 2!”

Sofia replied with deflections—”Too busy with midterms,” “Kids have a game,” “Maybe next month.”

Inside, her hunger stirred, visions of the private room flashing during class, her voice faltering on Poe’s forbidden desires. At home, flipping pancakes for the kids, the sizzle of batter loud, she felt arousal, thighs clenching, a secret grin spreading. I’m a mom, she thought, flipping the burner off. I can’t risk it.

June sweltered, Miami’s heat a relentless pulse, sticky with mango and exhaust. The kids were at summer camp, leaving her alone in the house, the fridge’s hum a lonely companion.

Early Friday morning, Lena called. “Sof, Obsidian’s got a Little Blue Dress event tonight. Don’t make me go alone! The kids are at camp. Just dance, have a few drinks, watch, like last time. Baby steps, right?”

Sofia’s pulse raced, memories of Lena’s curves under the chandelier flooding back. Her fingers tightened around the phone, the plastic warm against her ear. “Lena, I want to, but ... what if I get caught? The kids, Mark could use it against me in court. I’m not just risking tenure; I could lose them.”

Her voice trembled, the fear sharp, cutting through the humid morning. Elena’s soccer games, Mateo’s bedtime stories—if Mark found out, he’d drag me through hell again.

Lena’s tone softened, but her push was firm. “Sof, I get it. Mark’s a prick, and the kids are your world. But you’re not doing anything illegal, just living. You’re careful, and Obsidian’s discreet. No names, no cameras. You deserve this, to feel that fire again. No one’s taking your kids. Come on, just watch, like before. You can’t keep hiding from yourself.”

Sofia exhaled, the idea sparking against her fear. “Just watch? No pressure?”

“Promise,” Lena said. “Get dressed up, feel sexy. It’ll be fun.”

Sofia’s body buzzed, the fear of exposure battling the pull of desire. “Okay, you win. I’ll go.”

“Fuck yeah!” Lena replied. “I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”

That evening, Sofia slipped into a blue dress, its fabric cool, hugging her full breasts and wide hips, hem teasing her thighs, a black lace thong beneath. The mirror reflected a woman alive, freckles stark, eyes bright. But when Lena’s car honked, panic surged.

Sofia opened the door, Lena grinning from the driver’s seat. “Ready?”

Sofia froze, hand on the doorknob, the night air humid. “I ... can’t. Sorry.” Excuses tumbled out, Lena’s disappointed sigh heavy.

“Okay, no worries. Next time,” Lena said, driving off, taillights fading.

Sofia closed the door, the lock clicking, body buzzing. She poured wine, its blackberry tang coating her tongue, and sat on the couch, mind questioning her decision to stay home. After two glasses, she pulled her dress off, thong discarded, the setting sun creeping through the bay window. The couch’s leather felt cool as she leaned back, legs spread wide, pinching her hard nipples with her left hand, her right circling her clit, slow, then fast, the wineglass sweating on the table. She imagined herself on that velvet bed, bodies pressing, mirrors reflecting her surrender. She came quick, gasping, moan swallowed by the empty house, the fan’s breeze cooling her flushed skin. But the excuses crashed in. What if someone from UM sees me? Tenure review’s coming. The burn simmered, unsatisfied.