I was alone at home, the kids were in school and my husband was at work. It was hot outside, but not hot enough to turn on the air conditioning."Why not?" I thought.I peeled off my faded black skinny jeans, the ones with a cute red flower print on the thighs. I always received pointed glances of longing while wearing them, and that was often the prelude to my urges. My sensible undies came with them, and there was just the little bit of my secretions on the warm gusset. I looked at the counter in front of me. There were various washed vegetables in a bowl and on the cutting board, most of them still uncut. I considered the small skinny Italian eggplant. It had a slightly bulbous end to it, just the right length and girth to my horny mind.Feeling naughty, I stroked myself with the end of the eggplant. The first contact with my lips shocked me at first as it was still cold, but it gradually warmed with a few strokes that were lubricated by my juice. I briefly considered that I was. I looked up at the solemn people with bowed heads as the preacher droned on. Some were praying; others were sleeping. I listened. I listened for God’s voice. I begged him to hear me and give me guidance. All I could hear were my own thoughts. The only future I could see was the one I’d already lived. The look of horror on my boyfriend’s face when I told him I was pregnant. His futile attempt to deny that it was possible. The look of disgust on my father’s face the last time he spoke to me. No, not the day he died—the day I told him I was pregnant. The minister’s lecture during my wedding on the evils of sex before marriage and how it tainted those who couldn’t wait. The high-fives Jesse got for nailing me. Lying alone in the hospital in the agony of childbirth.And the one glimmer of light in my life: my daughter.NO!I almost shouted it in the church. I wouldn’t do this again. I’d kill myself first.And then what? Wake up to start the whole nightmare over again?Maybe ... just maybe ....
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