I'm a mess...

And I'm going to drag him down with me.

Sadly.

Or not. I've thought about the consequences but I'm greedy, selfish, and toxic.

Oh, to myself. Of course. Why else would I be here, in his basement with his family sleeping upstairs?

Why else would I have started this after he only made a few drunk comments about how he thought I was pretty?

Why else would I want to be with someone else's husband?

But in this moment it doesn't matter. When it's my mouth on his, my hands under his shirt and his arms wrapped around ME.

And, if we are being honest, it doesn't matter to me after. When I drive home with the rash his facial hair has left on my chin, my lips, my neck...I don't care. Because I made him want me. He still wants me.

I know I should care.

I feel it when I look at my own family. I understand there is more than just our marriages at stake. It isn't just the two of us down here in the dark. We have burdens, each as great.

But when I whisper to him and he breathes back in that gutteral, hungry way... everything else falls away. In heaps on the floor with our clothes. And I am free.

I am sexy.

I am desired and lusted after.

I am who I was before I became and unappreciated, tossed aside wife. Before I became a mother and father. Before I single handedly held together a family that was broken three months after I said 'I do'.

It is my turn to be selfish. And with whomever wants to be selfish with me.

For now it is him. Him who I will make putty in my hands, to remould over and over, time and time again.

I do not feel guilty.

I do not feel ashamed.

I do not want this to end.