#stacey

“Hey man, Karen just broke up with me.  She kicked me out, and I don’t have anywhere else to go.  Would it be cool if I crashed at your place for a few days until I can figure out my finances and get an apartment?” Matt asked.

“Sure.  Just let me run it by Stacey first.” I said, knowing full-well that she would say yes.  Stacey never turned down someone in need; it was just one of her many traits that I had fallen in love with.

“Alright, cool.  But hey, no pressure man.  I don’t want to be a burden.” Matt answered.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.  You won’t be a burden.  It’ll be our pleasure.” I said.

As predicted Stacey showed her enthusiasm for the idea by taking work off early to tidy the place up a bit before Matt arrived.  By the time I had returned from work she had transformed our comfortable home into a showroom.  A thorough vacuuming with our Wet-Vac had liberated the carpet of every stain or blemish, leaving an immaculate off-white in its wake.  Sitting like a crown jewel in a tiara, the faucet sparkled from the kitchen sink.   Even the bulbs in the chandelier had been relieved of their dust.

“The house looks amazing.” I said, kissing her on the cheek.

I could tell she wanted it to be perfect.  We both knew that Matt had been planning to propose to Karen, so we were expecting to launch into team rebound the moment he knocked on the door, but nothing could have prepared us for the reality of his grief. 

Malnourished puppies looked less pathetic than Matt as I took his dufflebags.   With nothing to occupy his hands, he merely stood in our front doorway, looking at them as though seeing hands for the first time.  Stacey started to speak, and he looked up.  His puffy, red eyes did nothing to brighten his appearance.

“Would…would you like to come in?” she asked, gesturing toward the couch in the living room.

We did our best to lighten the mood, but Matt kept bringing the conversation down.  It seemed all topics lead to Karen, and no amount of alcohol could make Matt forget.

“You just need to forget about her.” my wife slurred.  “Come on, let’s dance - take your mind off of all of this.”

“No thanks, I’m not really in the mood.” Matt replied.

“Suit yourself, party-poop.” she said, pushing herself off the couch and stumbling down the hall toward our bedroom.  A few minutes later she emerged wearing just a pair of pink panties and a cut up Adidas shirt - exactly the kind of thing she always wore to bed, only now she was walking out into the living room with company over.  Without a word she walked over to the entertainment center, turned on the music, and started to dance.

“Come on.” she said “Lighten up and have a little fun.”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.  This was totally unlike Stacey - she never dressed like this in front of other people, and we never went dancing.  Come to think of it, I was the reason we never went dancing.  She also rarely drank, so that probably had something to do with it, too.

“Uh, no thanks.” Matt said, but he didn’t take his eyes off of her.  For a moment, pure animal lust had replaced his grief.  I could see him, practically salivating over my wife, and I felt…what?  I realized with a start that my pulse had quickened.  Matt shook his head, the grief returned, and my strange feeling faded.

“What about you, honey?” she asked.

“No thanks, maybe some other time.” I said.

“Oh, you’re no fun.” she pouted.

“I think it’s time for bed.” I said, turning off the music and ushering my wife toward the bedroom.  I couldn’t forget that feeling.  Adrenaline started to course through me just thinking about it.

“Hey, you up for a little fun?” I whispered, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear as I did so.

“Mmm, what do you have in mind?” she purred, but I didn’t waste time with any more words.  That night I had the best sex of my life.