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bathroom, and slid into bed next to her sleeping husband. She lay awake all night for fear that Trents strong hands had left a mark on her, or that Charles would smell him on her, or that she would give herself away somehow, but the next morning, everything was normal again. Charles was his sweet, gentle self, and Jen went back to work, and it was an ordinary day. Jen thought she was relieved. As that next day and the next crept by, Jens mind drifted unbidden to that night on the side of the road. She could hear Trents harsh whisper in her ear. She could feel the heat of his hard hands claiming her. Her pussy clenched, remembering the feeling of Trents thick cock inside her. He had asked if her husband fucked her like this, and at first, she had fallen silent, not wanting her husband to intrude. Time passed, and she convinced herself that she had been protecting Charles, wanting to be loyal to him, not wanting to compound her sin by telling this stranger the truth. The truth was that Charles couldnt please her like this because he had not known she wanted this kind of pleasure. She had not known it herself. The nights were hardest. At first, the drive home was interminable. She would glance over at the gravel shortcuts where the state troopers would lie in wait for speeders. She would replay her encounter with Trent in her head, augmenting it with her own newly discovered fantasies. She would arrive home to find Charles asleep in bed. Afraid of waking him and facing the consequences, she might slide out of bed and creep into the bathroom, where she would straddle the toilet in the dark and bring herself to climax with her fingers and her vivid memories. Last Saturday, unable to stand the pressure of her own growing need, she had gone shopping for racy lingerie. Alone in the dressing room, she had admired the shape of her body in the black lace corset, every curve made magnificent in this seductresss garment. She had put everything on at home and then lain in wait for Charles, imagining the expression on his face as she slid her new satin robe off and showed herself to him. That night, she thought, she would not be his responsible and hard-working wife. In the candlelight, dressed in black lace, she would be a siren, a temptation, a seductive woman who was hungry for him. When the time came, she watched him come into their bedroom, and she slowly unfolded her legs from her perch on the edge of the bed before slowly walking toward him. She allowed the satin to slide over her shoulders, falling to her feet in a silken pool as she advanced on him. Charles smiled -- but it was not the smile she wanted. It was an indulgent smile, the kind one offers a child who is showing off a Halloween costume. "Aw, babe," he said, with


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that indulgent smile on his face. "Did you do all this for me?" Jen knew that the answer was no. She nodded yes anyway. He chuckled, and for a moment she was sure he was going to say that she was cute. She was not sure what she would do if that happened. "You dont have to do that for me," he said. He cupped her face between his hands. "You know I think youre sexy just the way you are." She could feel her eyes burn with tears. She was too close to him to turn away, and she knew he saw her eyes welling. He used his thumbs to gently dry her eyes, kissed her on the forehead and smiled at her again. "Now. Why dont you get into bed while I put out these candles?" That night in the dark, after she had unfastened everything and laid it carefully aside, Charles had made gentle love to her. He had stroked her clit in regular, counterclockwise circles -- a-one and a-two and a-three and a-four -- and carefully watched the expression on her face for some cue that she was ready for him. Jen had never understood what the cue was, some lift of her eyebrow or quirk of her mouth. It was something she did quite by accident, she was sure, because she was never entirely ready for him when he entered her, and he was usually done and quite pleased with himself before she was ready to begin. All of it -- the indulgent smile, the darkness, the predictable, forceless rhythm of him -- made her furious. Worse, memories of that unsatisfying episode, and the promise of hundreds more like it for the rest of her married life, had begun to crowd out thoughts of Trent. Charles said he found her sexy the way that she was. But he didnt really know her. He couldnt know her, because she didnt really know herself. Tonight, driving home late from work again, she considered the problem again. Was she really the wild woman who had been driven mercilessly to climax by the young stranger on the front seat of the car? Was she the responsible wife to a dependable but uninteresting man? Was she the predictable woman trying to recapture the feeling of that one night, the way that a child wants to preserve the make-believe magic of Halloween? Or was she a truly sexual creature, denying her needs in order to preserve her role in a marriage that meant less to her with every passing day? Alone again on the dark highway, the Isolated Stretch of Road, she couldnt answer her questions. She didnt know which Jen she was. But she did know which one she wanted to be. That version of herself turned off the headlights. She had thought it would be more difficult to see without the lights on. Perhaps she had the moon to thank for this level of visibility; she could see the outline of the road and the shape of the dotted line,