HARMONY

Part 7 "Getting into trouble"

This next part is more PG-13.   If you skip it, you'll still understand the story.  I think it's important to note that Michelle's need to have this affair is not for sex or because she doesn't love Steve.  Instead, she's lost her way.  She's afraid of getting old and not feeling attractive.  And, in Michelle and Steve's exhaustive drive to make more and more money and buy more and more stuff, they have lost their connection with each.  They forgot that a family needs a warm home, not a huge house. 

Sweat from his body saturated Michelle's skin. His hands expertly touched the perfect places in the perfect way as his lips trickled down the back of her neck.

It was this passionate nature that attracted her. 

They met only three months earlier when he was painting her dining room with Hot Mexican Spice. He came highly recommended and prided himself on being a perfectionist. After their first conversation, she found herself giddy and breathless, saying stupid things and tossing her hair. He noticed it too; he seemed to notice it to as if he'd seen it a hundred times with these treadmill housewives. 

The second day, he painted her dining room without a shirt, allowing drips of paint to roll down his sculpted body. Michelle had taken a cloth and gently wiped it off. 

The third day, he had her right there on the dining room table in the middle of the afternoon. He had painted every room in her house, charging only cash and increasing his price with each job.

He got up from the bed and poured himself a full glass of the best champagne. Draining it, he poured another for himself and one for Michelle. "To you!" he said, handing her the glass. 

Michelle rolled her eyes and went to the bathroom.  She closed, and for no good reason, she locked the bathroom door. She avoided the mirror, but needed to check her neck. Damn. I said no marks. She pulled at the skin with her fingers. He's getting so rough.

"Meeechellle," he called. "I miss you.... "

She answered with a flush and another look in the mirror. Rough and expensive. She knew she'd be leaving cash for the hotel room, the champagne and whatever else he would order. There were always a few meals involved. I just hope that's all he asks for. 

For thirty-nine, her body reflected years with a personnel trainer, trips to the day spa and thousands of dollars of the latest creams and treatments. She looked all the way down to her toes, a beautiful body. A blackened soul.

"Meeeechellllee," he called. "I need you now."

She reached for the doorknob, but she couldn't unlock the door.  

***

When I went to Creed in concert at the Irvine Amphitheater, I actually witnessed a scene very  similar to this scene.  It inspired this entire story.

Standing on the seat, Steve rocked his air guitar. His raspy voice screamed out every word as his head bobbed to the beat. "Cause when you're with me, I'm free, I'm careless, I believe..."

Sharing the vortex of musical escape, Chad shook his fists and belted out lyric after lyric. "Above all others we'll fly, this brings tears, to my eyes..."

Lights crashed in sync with the amplifiers—the crowd responded as one unified voice, one unified spirit being taken to another place by Wicked Snicker. They jumped and danced, raised their fists and sang the songs; they played air drums and imaginary guitar; they drank and danced and laughed. 

Steve soaked it in like an African thunderstorm sent to hydrate the moon. He licked after the rain drops and begged to bathe in their seas.

His torn shirt untucked, his pits stained and his hair wild—even a mirror would not have recognized the image. He punched Chad on the arm and threw him a body blow. "I love you man!" He yelled over and over.