I turn off notifications on my phone and put it upside down on my dresser, finally extinguishing the glow that had lit my smirking face for hours in the dark. It’s quiet. I close my eyes and enjoy the night sounds. The sound of the heat kicking in. My husband’s steady breathing. The occasional car in the neighborhood. It’s become so warm under the covers, I notice. It makes me aware of every inch of my skin. How much I want it all to be touched.
I think about how narrowly we missed an opportunity to meet. Would I have wanted to? A jolt of fear, or excitement, rushes through me and my heartbeat speeds up. I think about that hotel bar of our shared fantasies. I’m not sure where this bar was conjured from, but there’s a specific one in my head where we’ve always met. Maybe it’s a collage of places I’ve seen on dates, at work conferences, girls nights out. It doesn’t change, it only gets more vivid. Horseshoe-shaped bar with booths and a cocktail table or two. Good lighting, but not too dark – you could take a colleague there without giving the wrong idea.