IF I WROTE EROTICA, THIS IS WHAT IT WOULD LOOK LIKE:

She wakes at dawn … and realizes she has somehow managed to sleep until eight. How did this happen? She sits up with a start. Her husband is still asleep. The house is quiet. She runs quickly from her bed, fearful that her son has once again started to pull apart the components of the light socket, or her daughter has found an old tube of lipstick and decorated the mirror. Again. But no! Her children are in their room, sound asleep. 

She takes a step back. Except for her gasp of wonder and pleasure, the house is quiet and still. 

She goes to the bathroom, completely expecting banging on the door at any moment. It does not come. Tentatively she flushes and washes her hands. The sound of water doesn’t summon tiny feet.

Carefully, quietly, she creeps out to the kitchen. She starts her tea, being careful to set the kettle not to whistle. While the water boils she checks her email, then makes her cup of tea. She has three more minutes to check her email. Tea brewed, she adds milk to her tea, sits down by the window, and gazes out at the morning. Lifting the tea to her lips, she sighs. She takes a sip, and then moans. It has been years since she’s known such ecstasy.

…

This is what I lust for … I can’t be the only one!