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Lust in the Morning
Short stories by David Satterlee
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|Life Will Get You in the End:|
Short Stories by David Satterlee
The tensions between happily married couples can boil over. Sometimes, you just have to ask, "Did I really say that out loud?"
Lust in the Morning
Fergus Johnson story of gender relations
It was a lazy, quiet Saturday morning. Fergus and Dorothy
were sitting together on the living room couch. Dappled sunlight streamed
through the large front window, promising a bright, crisp day full of vigor and
potential… perhaps after lunch. He was reading the daily newspaper and she was
thoroughly inspecting a small collection of pre-Christmas glossy color catalogs
featuring top-of-the-line, premium merchandise.
Fergus, having just spent a few moments admiring the models
in a lingerie ad on page 17, looked over fondly at Dorothy. He loved her so
much. She was a good wife, a good mother, a good friend… and a good cook. He
closed his eyes and indulged in
a slow, wistful sigh. Life was good and he was
content. No, I really mean it, fully content.
His mind, still lingering on, and warmed by, the afterglow
of the ad, wandered back to his early years together with Dorothy. She had
looked so stunning in that bustier after their wedding, and they had had so
much fun getting her out of it.
In their first years of youthful enthusiasm, they had
decided to put a quarter in a fish bowl every time they were intimate. They
were saving for a dream vacation. They had worked with such enthusiasm to save
for that vacation. But, they stopped saving quarters when they had to empty the
bowl to help pay for a new transmission in the family car.
Their intimacies gradually become less urgent and more
comforting and accommodating. As often happens, the stresses of pursuing two
careers and nurturing three tireless, and relentlessly maturing children had
sapped their reserves. Their intimacies had also gradually become less
Fergus looked back at the advertisement. He had long ago
promised Dorothy to not collect or use magazines featuring such youthful and
firm models. The task of keeping his promise had required determined strength
of character, and he knew few other men with such fidelity. Nonetheless, it
meant a great deal to the women he loved. He would not risk the offense and
remorse that such indulgence would inevitably produce.
It was at about this time that Dorothy put down her last
catalog. She closed her eyes and indulged in a slow, wistful sigh. Looking
fondly at Fergus, she said, “I know I’ll never buy any of that stuff; I just
like to look at the pictures and wish that I had it.”
Fergus, later pleading momentary insanity, snapped: “But I
thought you just liked to read the articles.”
a slow, wistful sigh. Life was good and he was content. No, I really mean it, fully content.