Jadish was sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe. Why was she having the dreams? Why was she wearing white? Who was the woman in the middle of the ocean floor being deflowered?

Why was the woman’s hair flames and why was she sleeping, like she was virtually unconscious?

Jadish spat icily, “I did, Ma.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe you need to see a shrink.”

“Why do you always insist on me going to a therapist?”

“Because you are having the same dream over and over.”

Insulted, Jadish hung up in her face and she never discussed her dreams with anybody else.

It was her secret.

One she never shared with Sax.

A few days later, after Jadish annoyingly cleaned the dishes, she reluctantly looked at her despondent husband and said, “Baby, did you like dinner?”

He said, “It was good, baby. I like the cream of mushroom you poured over the sautéed chicken. That was nice, something new.”

She smiled. She was drying off a plate. “What are you going to be doing
tomorrow?”

Releasing a large gush of air, Sax closed his eyes, holding the Sports section of the Miami Herald.

A glass of Grey Goose was in front of
him, light ice. He decided to wolf it down and have another shot.

My wife is full of shit! “Nothing, why?”

His eyes peered over the paper. 

Something wasn’t adding up with her. She pondered the thought. “Maybe we can catch a movie.”

He frowned. “We’ll see, Jadish. Movies are for 6 year olds. Not married people.”

Here we go! Why are men so stubborn and set in their ways?

She turned off the sink water, wiping her hands on her apron. Taking it off, she hung it on the clamp by the pantry door, disappearing into the living room.

Sax didn’t take his eyes off her amazingly plump booty. It bounced when she walked.

His dick was hard instantly and he pressed down on it to kill the erection.

She paused in front of her painting, looking and feeling gloomy.

Sax, setting the paper down, stood up, the chair audibly sliding back. He walked up behind his wife and took her into his arms.

She cringed inside, rolling her eyes.
What is bothering you? He thought.

“Baby, you smell good tonight.”

God! “You too, baby,” she lied. She
meant he smelled good, but she wasn’t going to have sex tonight or any other night.

She felt his hardness up against the crack of her ass and it didn’t do anything for her.

Am I gay? She thought bitterly. Is
that why my husband don’t turn me on?

He was kissing her neck. The warmth of his fleshy lips felt enticing. Her insides came alive but her gut hardened her heart and she said, “Not tonight. I’m on my period and I’m out of Massengill.”

He looked at the back of her head. “You said that the other night.” His erection softened.

Damn it!

“I know.” She felt low. She kept looking at the painting.

He was carefully analyzing her. “What is it with this painting, Jadish? You are always staring at it.”

She was rubbing her hands as if she was cold. “I just like it.”

He was getting jealous of the painting.