The Lines We Cross

Nadia never thought she'd have it in her to ever go this far.

She'd always written things like these off as being immoral, depraved, inconceivably below her. And she might've had a point and still held her posture about the first two statements, but she was wrong about the third one. She was not above temptation, she was underneath another man, her wedding band lying on his nightstand instead of around her finger. Her mouth tasted, her skin smelled of him.

It hadn't even taken him that much to get her on his bed. Yes, they had had a couple drinks, but she didn't feel at all disoriented, if anything, the only thing the alcohol had done was weaken her inhibitions and thus taken the leash off those primal wishes, needs, carnal in nature, that she'd been subconsciously neglecting for god-knows how long.

He'd given her many easy outs all throughout the evening, but she didn't take any of them. No, she let him in, first into her mind and now into her body. She knew there was no going back, but in the heat of the moment she didn't care, she wanted to see the whole thing through.

It hadn't taken that long either. She'd lovingly kept her vows for a little over six years now, yet it'd taken this man, this stranger, only a couple hours to make her gladly give them and herself up for his pleasure. Why? How? What really was he? She wondered. Which qualities, exactly, did he possess that melted her like putty in his hands? And most importantly, if this was so wrong, then how come did it feel so right?