On Friday, she’s late to work. She rushes in, flustered and unlike her normal composed self, apologizing as she explains that her car broke down and rush hour traffic was a nightmare. She mentions how terribly expensive the Uber was. Normally, you’d rush home on a Friday, but your wife cancelled your date night plans, so you have no reason not to help out. You offer to take her home. You tell yourself it’s simply the decent thing to do. You know how difficult this city can be, and how expensive those rides are. She graciously accepts after a little convincing, and somehow the space between the two of you seems to get a little smaller. Maybe because she rushed that morning, you notice the occasional tiny wardrobe mishap. Innocent, surely. But all the same, she is so very tempting.
Later that day, you drive her home from work. A massive rainstorm slows everything to a crawl, keeping the two of you sitting in the car together for a few moments longer than your restraint can comfortably handle. Seeing her this up close, with the rain as a backdrop, almost feels surreal. Then she somehow convinces you to come inside for a quick refreshment.
Before you know it, you’re on her couch, lost in her eyes as she gets you talking about your personal life. Your mind isn’t working the way it usually does. As time passes, she seems to move closer and closer. Her shirt somehow unbuttoning without you even noticing. And somewhere between the rain outside, the warmth of her apartment, and the way she’s looking at you, the line between restraint and temptation disappears entirely.
By the time you realize just how far things have gone, it’s already far too late.
