By Wayne Harris-Wyrick (I used to dream)
“We can’t do this.” Sam said. “We both took vows!”
“But this is what I want right now. What we both want.” Joann’s lips pouted in a way she had let Sam see before. “We’ll be good tomorrow, I promise.”
She hoped that Sam was faltering. She could almost feel Sam’s deep-down tingle. “I want this. I used dream about it, for weeks, and now the time to dream is over. I want to do it,” her voice dropped to a low, guttural tone. Joann sensed that Sam was weakening, resolve beginning to slip away.
“I can’t just ignore my promises this easily,” Sam said. “It’s not fair to our spouses. What would your husband say if he found out?”
“They’ll never find out, we won’t tell them,” Joann’s hoped her sly grin was persuasive. “We have the time. Our spouses are at work. No one would ever know.”
Sam looked out the car window. Joann knew that expression, a mixture of uncertainty and desire rolled into one emotion. Joann felt it too, has been feeling it for days now.
“I would know,” Sam said. “We would both know. We’d hate ourselves tomorrow.”
“We might feel sorry for this in the morning,” Joann said, “but I’m willing to bet that we’ll hate ourselves more if we don’t do this. Now. While the opportunity presents itself.” She looked at Sam, smiling her biggest, happiest smile, hoping it would be persuasive.
“I’d feel guilty. I don’t want to be that kind of a person.”
“Come on, Samantha, let’s go get those banana splits and start our diets tomorrow! Our husbands will never know!”
“We can’t do this.” Sam said. “We both took vows!”
“But this is what I want right now. What we both want.” Joann’s lips pouted in a way she had let Sam see before. “We’ll be good tomorrow, I promise.”
She hoped that Sam was faltering. She could almost feel Sam’s deep-down tingle. “I want this. I used dream about it, for weeks, and now the time to dream is over. I want to do it,” her voice dropped to a low, guttural tone. Joann sensed that Sam was weakening, resolve beginning to slip away.
“I can’t just ignore my promises this easily,” Sam said. “It’s not fair to our spouses. What would your husband say if he found out?”
“They’ll never find out, we won’t tell them,” Joann’s hoped her sly grin was persuasive. “We have the time. Our spouses are at work. No one would ever know.”
Sam looked out the car window. Joann knew that expression, a mixture of uncertainty and desire rolled into one emotion. Joann felt it too, has been feeling it for days now.
“I would know,” Sam said. “We would both know. We’d hate ourselves tomorrow.”
“We might feel sorry for this in the morning,” Joann said, “but I’m willing to bet that we’ll hate ourselves more if we don’t do this. Now. While the opportunity presents itself.” She looked at Sam, smiling her biggest, happiest smile, hoping it would be persuasive.
“I’d feel guilty. I don’t want to be that kind of a person.”
“Come on, Samantha, let’s go get those banana splits and start our diets tomorrow! Our husbands will never know!”