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Once done, I carefully pushed Linda off of me - propping her up, and freeing my face from the soft flesh of her chest. I eased my way out from under my wife; I was now used to the way that she smoothly compensated for my absence, frozen in the position of riding a phantom person.I moved around so that I could see her face more clearly; Linda’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, her mouth wide open - frozen in act of panting - and her lips were moist with saliva. She looked like she was enjoying herself immensely, and I wondered what exactly she was thinking about. Was she, even now, picturing Kara bursting into the room and catching us?I leant forward, and impulsively kissed my wife tenderly. Her lips closed gently at my insistent plundering of her receptive mouth, yielding to me passively. Even though I could kiss her whenever I liked, this stoked a dark side of me. Having my way with her body without her knowledge was just so perversely arousing. Even though I had been enjoying her. Each day, I would stare on and on, into the heavens, waiting for that angel to come down. I aggressively, then tenderly, called for her love. Her sweet angel tan body, luscious and curved like a motherly swan rescuing me from my low self-esteem. I, in strange, theatrical madness cursed her for her lack of love profession, for loving my face, my hair, my strong, powerful body, but not that crude disgusting thing lurking in my pants. That silent, grotesque lump of God-given clay yet to be molded, for all hope, to die in the dust with the humming of the cortex, those strange fibers of consciousness wrestling angsty teenage love, my sweet Kimberly… she’d dated someone I’d thought my friend. Society’s law kept me from killing him. I would wake up in the night and punch the floor in anguish, homoerotic fear and shame… I killed him a thousand times over in my mind…. His form extinguished by the hood of my car raging into him outside of his jock club, the mma fighting club where I’d first.
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