Deadly Charade
“It always turned her on to see the transformation in him—in herself—when the day was over. He would shed his conservative wool jackets with the dated leather patches at the elbow. Ruffle the hair that had been ruthlessly smoothed down with gel. And kick off the staid, ugly shoes that reminded her of a traveling salesman’s.
It was what kept their marriage strong. Shared secrets. A willingness to stretch boundaries and do anything the other needed. Even if it meant taking the latest street drug to spice things up.
Neither had an aversion to drugs. They didn’t do things like acid or heroin, but contented themselves with things that were relatively harmless, like pot or the new “in” thing—bath salts. They added a nice zip to reality. She loved how they made her feel, and how they made him feel, and how, in the morning, he’d kiss her gently, sweetly, as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him.
But at night...
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