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move in and out, slowly at first, to the same rhythm of his tongue. Then faster, deeper, harder … again and again and again … until I feel that build up inside me waiting to explode.
    “Kate,” he moans , as he slams into me one final time, and I groan out a deep moan as my release combines with his. He stills, and his weight drops onto me as he nuzzles his face into my neck.
    “I love you,” he says breathlessly.
    “I love you too,” I return. After a few moments, he releases me from my bondage and I’m wrapped in his arms, being held so tightly. My eyes close, and I drift away with my nose being tickled by the hair of his chest. I love this man, and I feel blessed that I have demonstrated the courage to hold on to him in this way.
    As I enter the slow darkness of sleep, I pr omise him and myself to show this courage more and more.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    T-Minus Seven Days to Anniversary…
     
    It’s Friday afternoon, and my mind is on the weekend, thinking of what else I can do to spice things up. I’m feeling at a loss. Seriously, we’ve done the bondage thing, the sensual thing, the blow job in the car thing. What’s left? I’m groaning with my inability to be sensual—aka: boring—when my phone rings and it’s Renee on the line.
    “Hi, I’m so glad you called .” I smile warmly into the phone.
    “Tantric sex,” she blurts out . “You’ve got to try it. It is amazing.” She draws out those last three words. It … Is … Amazing.
    Of course I’ve heard of Tantra, but only in a vague and “it’s for people who practice yoga” way.
    “You can borrow my book and DVD, I’ll bring it over later,” she says and hangs up abruptly.
    I’m still staring at my phone, with the realization that my prayers have been answered. Tantric Sex Saturday. Perfect! Now, I just need to figure out what it is, what to do and I’ll be set.
    Two hours later, I get a “The package has been delivered, get home first” message from Renee. I feel myself grow moist as I think about what that package is and what it could mean for my marriage. I pour myself into my work, willing the clock to tick faster and hoping extreme busyness will create a light speed effect on time.
    It worked! I find myself speed walking to my car, excited to get home and discover what the fuss is all about. As I pull into my driveway, I see it! A red whore bag on my front porch!
    Holy hell , Renee! I grab the bag and bolt through the door, clucking at myself for being such a prude.
    The cover of the book is sensual, really sensual, with a naked man and woman entwined together in a way that is sexual, but not. I gaze at the pair, the passion in their faces and what appears to be ecstasy in their eyes.
    Could Ethan and I be like that, I wonder, as nagging doubt enters my brain.
    Will he even be willing to try this? To explore with me a whole new world of sexuality? I try to imagine Renee’s husband twisting and turning into these positions. The thought makes me laugh, and then pause. If a manly man like Dale can do this, why not Ethan too?
    “ He will, ” assured my Inner Goddess.
    “ You’re going to look ridiculous ,” snarls the Bitch in My Head.
    Only one way to find out . I pop the DVD into the player and sit down to open the book.
    An hour later, I’m panting and out of breath after watching the couple explore each other so intimately. It is beautiful, and sensual, and erotic, and kind. Yes, kind. The couple show a kindness to each other through their love making. The pleasure is there, but also a mutual respect and love for the other. Or else they were very good actors!
    I’m startled as I hear the front door knob rattle , and I panic.  In my haste to turn off the TV and stash the book under the sofa, I knock two pillows to the floor.  I snatch them up and am attempting a very poor rendition of a “kicked back and lounging” pose when Ethan walks into the room.
    “Hi,” he says, eying me curiously.
    “Hi,” I return, still