We were sitting at the kitchen table having coffee, an early morning ritual. Keri was looking at me with a sly smile on her face. "Do you ever think about doing things," she toyed with her spoon, "you know, things with the stuff in the kitchen." "Keri," I almost dropped my cup, "I think you just say these things to embarrass me." I know I was blushing a scarlet.

My cheeks felt flush. "Like in that movie with Bill Murray," she was grinning now, obviously enjoying my predicament, "where he takes out the ice cream scoop and then the whisk." "Lookit, I don't think about any of that stuff," My pulse went up and my breathing was getting difficult, like I was having an anxiety attack; because, if the truth be known, I have thought of it a few times. "Oh c'mon, you can't tell me you haven't spent any time with the washer," still that Cheshire grin. "With the spin cycle on, you know." "I've never done any of those things." "Did them or thought about them." "Neither," I was sweating for some reason. "Now let's talk about something else." "Poor little Peggy," she put the spoon in her mouth in an overtly sensual act. "Always so repressed, always so proper.

Haven't you ever just wanted to let your hair down and let go?" "No!" my hands were shaking and I caught myself staring at her lips, her full lips.

"I have some errands to run, so maybe you should just go." "Hey, I'm sorry if I upset you," but she didn't look sorry. She looked somehow superior, like she was some woman of the world or something instead of just another housewife in a suburb. "I just like to get a rise out of you every so often." She rose from her chair and bent across the table, moving inches from my face, her lips just out of reach. "Tomorrow, my place," she swept across my field of vision. God, I hope she didn't notice me looking down her top. "Don't be angry with me." I wasn't angry, just put off balance and, if the truth be known, uncomfortable about certain feelings that well up in me from time to time. I am pleasant looking with sandy colored hair, but I have always been slight of build, which means I have always been picked on. It began with my sister, who was a fat ass kid. She used to make me do her chores and when I'd protest she would wrestle me to the ground and sit on my face. I would cry under her fat ass and agree to do whatever she wanted. But sometimes her sitting on me caused a completely different feeling, the humiliation would make me tingle inside and I have fought against that feeling my whole life. Even in college my roommate was a big titted brash girl who bossed me around all the time. She seemed to sense that I was a pushover and would end up doing most of the housework.

Finally, I met Bob and he didn't ask anything of me, only to be with me and I fell in love and married him. And now there was Keri. Could she just sense that I am a pushover like my roommate or can she see inside of me?

That thought terrorizes me and this morning I think it came to a head. I was washing dishes as I pondered away my life, washing a wooden spoon, when suddenly I began thinking about it as something other than a spoon. I thought what it would feel like if I stuck it in me. No, stop it! I was a wreck the rest of the day and, if the truth be known, a little horny.

Everything I touched became something else in my mind. Could I do it with the vacuum, I had to use the whisk to stir some eggs, my hairbrush, and my curling iron. What if I climbed on the bedpost and lowered myself carefully, let Bob find me impaled on it, what would he do?

The next morning I called Kerri and told her I couldn't make it for coffee, that I was too busy but that she should come around anytime.

"Don't tell me your still upset about yesterday." "Oh no, I haven't even thought about it," I lied. I have to get a lot of things done." "Like what?" "Like laundry and shopping and..." "Oh I see, it's wash day is it?"