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didn’t need to analyze that, either.
    My skin had gone pink from the hot water and arousal. I looked down over the curve of my breasts and belly to where my hands moved between my legs. I wanted more than my own hands there. I wanted Joe’s mouth on me. I wanted to feel him lick the soft, wet slit of my cunt, feel that smile on my clit. I wanted him to fuck me with his mouth until I came.
    I slowed my hands, fingers sliding in and out of my pussy without friction. I pinched my clit again. It had gone dark red, pushing up from my trimmed-short pubic curls. I stroked it up and down and my pelvis jumped again. A spasm shuddered through me.
    I wanted to scream myself hoarse with this pleasure. I wanted to moan and whimper. I bit my lip, hard, to keep back a cry, mindful that I was not alone, not ever alone.
    I moved my hands away and rocked my hips, moving the water over my clit. Fuck, it was good, almost but not quite like a tongue. I let it lick at me for a while until I shuddered and banged my elbows against the side of the tub.
    I could bring myself off in another second. I’d been on the verge all day, first in anticipation of my lunchtime meeting, then with Joe’s story, then with Adam’s unexpected kiss. I’d been slick from need all day, my clit aching. Another second, one more touch and I’d go over.
    I waited, breathing hard, heart pounding. The water began to cool. I wanted to come and I wanted to stay poised here forever, with every nerve on fire and every muscle tense. I wanted to feel alive just a while longer.
    I waved a hand in the water over my body, not touching my skin but letting the water do it for me. The ripples felt good, and I imagined Joe’s hands. His long, strong fingers and clean, neat fingernails. I’d memorized his hands—every wrinkle of every knuckle, every vein. The exact spot on his wrists where the hair on his arms began.
    Thinking of Joe’s hair, I fought back another moan. My hands slipped down to stroke myself again. I wanted to bury my face in his chest hair, to rub the coarse curls of his arms against my eyelids. I wanted to feel his hair on my belly when we fucked, cock in cunt.
    I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to come. I thought I might die if I didn’t let myself finish, right then.
    I thought I was dying when I did.
    Everything stopped.
    Then all at once, it started again. My heart, beating. My breath, held in my lungs, rushed out. Water splashed as my body quaked. My clit had filled to the point of bursting and now it emptied in small, perfect spasms of ecstasy. My anus puckered as my cunt rippled, bearing down on nothing.
    Unable to hold it back, I gasped. My back arched and water sloshed over my face. I closed my mouth, fast, so I didn’t choke myself. Some got in my eyes, stinging, but the pleasure was so intense I didn’t care.
    When I was done and returned to myself, I put a hand on the edge of the tub to haul myself upright. I was cold and shivered, my nipples peaked now not from arousal but from chill.
    Nausea twisted my gut in the aftermath. I was light-headed when I got out, and had to stand, head down, for a moment or two before I felt steady enough to grab up my towel from the hook on the wall.
    I moved too fast and the room spun. I got on my hands and knees, my hair sodden and stringy over my shoulders and down my back. I shivered, teeth chattering, and then I wept.
    The towel I clutched smelled of lavender and I pressed my face against it to stifle my sobs as I’d bit my lip to hold back my sounds of pleasure. I dissolved on the bathroom floor, giving in to magnificent and overpowering grief.
    I loved my husband but wanted to fuck another man. I wanted it so much it tore me apart and knitted me together over and over. I lived for the stories Joe told that let me imagine myself as the women he took to bed. I had called him names, but I was wrong. It wasn’t Joe, it was me.
    I was the cheater.

Chapter
03
    February
    T his month, if I have a name,