Problems By Rachael Workman
The man was at work when she called and told him to come. With an air of feigned reluctance, he agreed.
She promised to be his fantasy and she was. “There will be problems,” he warned. “What kind of problems?” He planned to work on the train but couldn’t concentrate; memories of the woman’s legs around his waist, the way she gasped. Thoughts of her occupied him almost constantly, with no regard for appropriate timing. Erotic memories, the stickiest ones, intruded at the worst moments: playing with his kids, driving beside his wife, during business meetings. He thought of her standing before him, completely naked, her long hair draped across her shoulders, biting the edge of her thumb, staring into him. If he could manage his rogue imagination, he wouldn’t even be on this train.
You know why you’re so beautiful? He once asked her.
Why? He had just gotten a promotion, couldn’t afford to be distracted. The man risked everything he was not willing to lose. He had a family, a wife who would humiliate him before everyone he knew, his family, his colleagues; kids who would be disappointed, look at him with shame. Any potential problems would be his.
But he couldn’t afford not to accommodate her, either. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, but promised himself that he would never ask. It was obvious, anyway, and he refused to owe her. 15