Sandie

A maelstrom of panic, jealousy, and fear blooms in your chest as your wife of twelve years, the one with whom you’ve shared everything, smiles at you dreamily, the winning poker hand on the table in front of her. It’s not that you’ve been beaten, it’s the stakes that post-game have become higher than you imagined. The bet was for one wish, granted without question or consequence. Your wish was for the spare room to be remodeled as a man cave had you won, and you assumed hers would be something similarly lavish but innocent. Her playful gaze flits over to the next table at the small casino, to where a handsome, dark-skinned man with an Armani suit struggling to hold in his muscular frame, has been making eyes at her all night. The looks passing between them are unmistakable, speaking wistfully of what if, what if you weren’t in the way tonight? What if she were free? “One night with him.” She shrugs her shoulders up a little, reacting to a shiver up her spine at the thought of what could lie ahead. “I won, fair and square. You have to let me.* Giggling, she slides her chair out and begins to stand up. With a flash of panic bursting in your chest, you glance over at the stranger and to your horror realize that the woman to his left, smiling with the same mischief your Sandie seems to have, is the stranger’s wife. They’ve overheard the entire conversation. The woman kisses the handsome target of your wife’s desire and whispers loudly to him: “It’s fine by me, Jerome. Be home in time for breakfast?” With that, Jerome’s wife saunters off toward the exit while he stands up prepared to receive Sandie. It appears this is going down quickly, and completely out of your control.