The dinner she prepared sat cold as the candle’s flame danced idly between the two bubbling glasses of champagne—the pool of melted wax an indicator of the time that had passed. She stood against the dining-room wall, not too far from the table of uneaten food, and found herself staring at the tiny bead of fire. No thoughts entered her mind as she breathed calmly, staring bleakly at the candle light. Her gaze was broken by the sudden slam of what seemed to be a car door. The noise came in a booming thud from the front of the house. Pushing herself from the wall, she walked hastily toward the front window; her excitement intensified. She peered through the large glass with anticipated relief at what she saw. A smile overtook her face and the moonlight reflected from her pearly, iridescent teeth—it was him. Making her way to the door, she ran her fingers through her dark, curly hair and adjusted her black satin dress; sliding it higher as to reveal more leg. She padded her lips with the ruby-red lipstick that was placed strategically on the weathered console near the door. She rubbed her lips together, one over the other, and produced a plump pout in the mirror above the console table. A tiny knock flooded her ears and her heart began beating sporadically. She quickly adjusted the spaghetti straps hanging from her shoulders and the satin dress fell ever-so-slightly, deepening her racy cleavage. She unlocked the door and threw it open. “You’re late.” she said. Her curvy silhouette fitting nicely in the doorframe. The man’s eyes, initially appearing small and tired, widened exponentially with euphoria. A glance from head to toe warmed his cheeks, making them blush. He found himself standing in front of her in a silent stupor—warmness made its way from his cheeks down to his core. He was speechless. She stood still—arms straddling the entrance in her satin mini dress. Her breasts perky and on display, she batted her eyes slowly and seductively. She turned and walked inside. “Food’s cold, but if you’re hungry I say we skip the main course and get right to dessert…” She peered over her shoulder and sees him follow. “Yeah…Wow…You look—“, he starts fumbling his words, “—you look incredible.” He closes the door briskly as if under a spell and floats toward her like a cloud. Her subtle perfume tickles his nostrils in an inviting fashion, and the warmth he feels plunges deeper into his nether regions. With brief anticipation, he walks speedily across the room, making a beeline in her direction. Her hips sway as she approaches the couch—she’s walking smooth and calculated. She knows what she wants. Before she gets to the couch, her striding left hip is met by his firm band of fingers. With a quick tug, he twirls her body around in a quick pivot and they lock eyes. His right arm straddles the small of her back as his left makes its way up her spine to the base of her neck. Holding his gaze in hers for only a second, he drops his head and plants his lips on hers. They kiss passionately for what seems like eternity. As he cradles her head, he begins stripping the spaghetti straps from their respective shoulders, exposing her soft-skinned breasts. Perky and voluminous, he cups them in hand, one at a time, as her satin dress drops to the floor. In the moonlight, seeping in through the window, he notices her red-laced panties following her curves down the crack of her buttocks. He slides his hand from her breasts, down her hourglass figure, to the crest of her pelvis—feeling the rough outline of her lingerie panties. As his lips make their way to her neck, his fingers glide between her warm skin and her red lingerie, slowly tugging them down her toned legs to the carpet floor. Fully exposed, she breaks from his grip and throws herself to the couch—her index finger curling repeatedly with a “come here” gesture. He unbuttons the rest of his white-collared shirt and tosses it to the floor. His belt, already unbuckled, is removed along with his pants. Shaking free from his briefs, he’s left facing her with nothing but his navy blue dress socks. Unfazed, he leaves them on. He approaches the couch—a spike in blood pressure yielded a massive erection—and he drops to the floor. His hands find their way clamped to the backs of her knees and her legs straddle the air. She gives him a flirty grin, awaiting what’s to happen next (even though she knows) and watches as he lowers his jawline below her pubic bone—his tongue slowly working its way to the bundle of nerve endings every man should know about. A surge of uncontrolled sensation floods through her body as her legs tremble with absolute electricity. It’s exactly what she wanted. As her eyes roll in and out of consciousness, her focus is shifted to a beam of light in the corner of the room, followed by a series of rattles. She opens her eyes wide and looks over her shoulder to the vibrating light coming from the end table. She reaches for it and reads the screen, squinting at the brightness. NO CALLER ID, it reads. Breaking his focus, he looks up and sees her checking her phone beyond her bosom and stops what he’s doing. “Is it just me, or does your phone ring at this time every night?” he asks in an annoying voice. “I swear it’s happened every time this week.” “It’s that unknown number again…” she says staring at the screen. “This is getting ridiculous.” “Block it.” he says quickly. “I can’t, there’s no number to block.” she responds. “Well then answer it again and tell them to fuck off, you’re busy.” he says seductively, kissing the insides of her thighs. She slides the bottom of the screen and answers, “Hello?”—No response. “Listen, god-damnit, whoever this is, quit calling this number. Take me off the call list, erase this number, just stop calling.” She slowed her breathing and held the phone tightly to her ear—the rain trickled outside. Brief bouts of lightning highlighted the house through the backyard windows. As she lay waiting for an answer, a streaking line of lightning ran across the nighttime sky as she lifted her head to face the man between her legs. As she sat up, her eyes shifted quickly to the large sliding door beyond his head. As the streak lit up the backyard, a long-haired silhouette stood peering in through the large window—a fluorescent light held to its ear. The woman on the couch jumped up in a rapid tussle, letting out a quick inhale of surprise and fright. “What the fuck is that?!” pointing to the sliding-glass window. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!” now screaming. The man scrambled to his feet and looked in the direction of her pointed finger, shaken by the sudden commotion. He sees the silhouette. “Jesus Christ, what the hell!” he chokes out. The silhouette figure rotates the glowing rectangle from its ear and taps it to the glass repeatedly. The man looks back at his lover and notices the dropped phone on the carpet floor. He swallows hard and produces a sentence with a shaky voice, “Maybe you should answer it now.” He points at the phone on the floor. Pulling a blanket over her bare-naked body, the woman slowly reaches for her phone, making sure her eyes stay glued to the stranger outside. Her fingers grip the hard edges of the device and she raises the light to her ear. “Who is this?” she says in a trembling voice. Had she been alone she may not have been as brave. Her hand began to shake as it held the phone. The silhouette figure, now darkened by the absence of light, placed the phone to its ear and finally spoke. “Unlock the door.” the voice sounding as serious as death. The woman on the couch, vexed with fear, scoured her memory in search of a possible match for the voice she just heard. But it was an unfamiliar tone—she didn’t know this person. “Fuck you! Get off my property!” she yelled. She was statically amazed at the magnitude of such a demand. The tiny cell phone light coming from the window seemed to get smaller, as if to disappear slightly. The light bounced down, then back up quickly, and then stayed put—a ways from the glass door. A moment of silence hung in the balance, and the woman on the couch looked at her lover in quiet confusion. Just then, a round, heavy object welcomed itself through the strong floor-to-ceiling glass—the terribly loud sound of a glass waterfall hit the linoleum flooring—and the round object rolled to the man’s feet. Covering her face in her blanket, the woman on the couch let out a shriek of terror—a blood-curdling cry from deep within her soul. The man reacted quickly, taking no time to grab the fire poker to his right. The rain began pelting the linoleum as the remaining glass fell. The silhouette stepped through the rubble—glass crunching at its feet. The woman on the couch scrambled for the lamp, located behind her on the end table. With a click, the room’s hostile darkness was met by its bright counterpart. The room lit up with the wariness of the unknown—making the unseen a beacon of immediate reality. The woman on the couch turned her head and leered—now acknowledging the soaking-wet body standing in her dining room. It was a woman, standing with a state of shock and dread on her face. She looked furiously at the two half-naked bodies in front of her and pulled her hair back, revealing her face. “Alice?” the man said quizzically. He studied the woman, hoping he was wrong. “You son-of-a-bitch. I knew you were up to something, you sly bastard. All those sleepless nights of crying myself to sleep. All those nights of holding onto the hope that maybe it weren’t true. And now I get to see it for myself.” she chuckles in disbelief. Her eyes glowing with hatred and disgust. “Honey, I—“ the man issues a starting explanation, but it’s cut off quickly. “You don’t get to speak to me, not like this!” she feels her voice straining—it feels hot in her throat. “I came here for one thing, and one thing only. I should’ve done this months ago. Hell…years ago.” She gritted her teeth and reached for the back of her waistline, both hands behind her back. Swinging her arms around, she produced a Glock 22. Fidgeting with the rear of the gun, she cocked it lethal and held it at the man. “Honey, you don’t want to do th—“, a blistering shot ran out, the recoil echoed through the wet woman’s arms into her shoulders. The bullet split the man’s eyes and blood rang out along the cream-colored wall. He fell back with a thud and his head leaked red like a hose from a faucet. The woman on the couch bellowed an uncontrollable scream. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! YOU FUCKING PHYSCO!” she curled with horror under the silky blanket eloping her curvaceous body on the couch. Alice walked slowly to the bloodied body on the carpet, a sea of dark burgundy spitting from his head. She swivels his head with the toe of her shoe, showcasing the petrified look of the man’s face, then returns the head face-down. “That’s gonna stain…” she glances at the woman cowering on the couch. A grin weasels across her face in the sadistic approval at the mess she’s made. She leans toward the woman-in-fear, and in an almost-seductive voice, casts her final stone. “You could’ve been fucking Stacy’s husband, you could’ve been fucking Martha’s husband, hell…you could’ve been fucking your neighbor’s husband down the road—I could’ve cared less. The thing that made it personal was the fact that you were fucking MY husband. And if you learn anything tonight, I hope it’s this: Never fuck a psycho bitch’s husband.” She takes the blunt end of the gun and in a crisp, downward force, cracks the nylon-based polymer handle across the terrified woman’s cheek—a bloody bruise forming instantly. She turns and begins to make her way across the carpet to the linoleum floor, then stops and looks back toward the woman on the couch. “And just so we’re clear…If you ever fuck another woman’s husband again, I’ll be back.” She turns and makes her way through the shattered opening and disappears into the rain.