Enchanted Desire

The shrill tone woke me out of a deep sleep and some half-remembered dream of a sexual encounter with a stranger. My eyes opened and cold awareness hit me, like a bucket of ice water. I saw his uniform hanging in the closet, and my smile instantly dissolved. I only wished I could have returned to that nocturnal vision rather than face the reality I was living.

“Shut that fuckin’ thing off,” David grumbled and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow.

God, I wish I could just hop back into that dream.

I fumbled for my cell phone on the nightstand, hitting a bunch of buttons until it stopped. I didn’t bother to answer it. I knew who it was. It was my wake-up call. I sighed, lying there in the dark for a long moment before grudgingly accepting what I was getting out of bed so early in the morning to do.

Black freakin’ Friday! Need I say more?

The day after Thanksgiving was practically a holiday itself. Among the females in my family, it was certainly a tradition. This annual pilgrimage took us all around Greater Boston. From dusk to dawn, we would invade the local malls and factory outlets alongside other insane people searching for

bargains and just about anything on sale. Even items of no particular need or value were not safe if they were significantly discounted.

Personally, I would much rather have bought everything online and slept in. When I was younger and my mother was still alive, I didn’t mind the fast, frenzied shopping and the aggressive crowds. I actually enjoyed the experience. Now, it was more of a chore, an inconvenience, and an annoyance. The five a.m. ringing only reminded me just how far my life had changed and veered off in a direction that I didn’t seem to have any control over.

I eased out of bed so as not to disturb David and tiptoed into the bathroom, taking my phone with me. I needed a quick shower and a cup of coffee before my eyes were fully open, but first I called my sister back to let her know I was up.

“It’s a perfect day,” Courtney said, much too enthusiastically.

There was only darkness beyond the partially frosted-over bathroom window. The late November chill that made my skin break out into goose bumps crept slowly into my bones. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“You’ll see, Shanna. Something good is going to happen today, I can feel it. I’ll be by in a half hour. I’ll bring some fruit. You want anything else?”

“Get me a black coffee. And a donut.”

“You don’t want a donut. You work out too hard.”

“I feel self-destructive at this time of the

morning.” Before hanging up, I added, “Anything with sprinkles.”

I languished in the shower. The heat and steam was comforting, and the force of the water rejuvenated me. My skin was overly sensitive to the pulsating water, though it was not any kind of pain or discomfort. Just the opposite, in fact. It was shockingly stimulating, like tiny massaging fingers all over my body. A sudden rush of blood to my crotch made my clit throb, and that really startled me. This level of arousal was not something I was used to feeling lately, especially not so unexpectedly.