Feelings of ecstasy surging through me like out of control waves, I smiled, pressing print and watching the paper spit from the printer. Neatly folding it, I went into the bedroom, sprayed some perfume on it and sealed the stationary inside a scented envelope.

Yes, it was set.

When my husband comes home, everything will be perfect.

Tossing my short, croppy hair behind my head, I stood up from the chair and tugged on my tennis skirt. My tits were bare.

Quite the little slut today, I frowned because I never really felt this way about my husband.

Considering we haven’t made love yet, I know he had a lot of anger towards me. But like most wives, I wanted to believe that he loved me enough to get over that anger.

After a couple years of marriage, I
was exhausted from fighting with him. I was tired of putting off the inevitability of sex with your
mate.

I knew I was to blame.

What man wanted to be married to a woman he couldn’t fuck?

I unscrupulously ran my hands over my dripping kitty cat and wiped it all over the envelope.

Thank God I wasn’t wearing any panties. My man would love me tonight, but first I had someone to go and see.

There was something that I wanted to know, and I couldn’t put it off a moment sooner.

I grabbed my car keys and hit the door.

When I turned my car onto the turnpike, I huffed and puffed because I immediately saw two major traffic accidents, all involving these non-driving Cubans.

Damn it! I couldn’t turn around.

Damn it!

I brought my car to a halt and put it in park, turning off the ignition, saving gas. I was getting mad really fast.

On the radio was the weather report. Partly cloudy. Yea, I know. I’m looking at the sky right now, dumb announcer.

Chance of rain, got that. I do see rain
drops on my windshield, damn who paid your payroll?

My cell phone rang, startling me. My heart hammering, it took a minute to calm down.

It was Daddy. What the hell does he want?

Exhaling audibly. “Hey, Pop,” I said excitedly.

He knew I was faking the funk.

Cautiously, he said, “I’m doing good. Where are you?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m trapped in traffic on the turnpike.”

He grunted. “Damn, baby. I needed a ride home.”

Call Mama! Isn’t she your wife? “Dad, I can’t control the traffic.”

“I know, baby. I didn’t mean to sound like I was coming down on you.”

Oh, yes the hell you did! “No problem.”

“I guess I got to find another way home.”

The guilt trip starts. “Call my husband,
Daddy.”

“Well I’ll be damned. Why didn’t I think of that?”

We kissed each other through the phone, something we always did...

“Call me later, Pa.”

“Love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

“And be careful…”

I flipped my cell phone closed, staring at a cement truck.

I thought about my God Daddy.

Tommy.