A dark erotic confession. I married the man of my fantasies- rich, handsome and insatiable. He knew what I was, what I needed and what I craved but work took him away and now I sleep in a cold bed, hunted by memories of his touch. The silence eats at me. The ache between my thighs never stops. I tried to stay faithful, I swear I did. But the massage therapist offered more than just release, the gym instructor saw through my weakness and fed it. One touch at a time, now I can't stop. It's a slow fall into hands that aren't his, into lips that don't whisper my name. I know I'm crossing lines I can't uncross, and still I want more. He knew who I was when he married me. One day he'll find out and when he does… will he punish me or will he walk away?