Please enjoy the opening of “Carrie: Hotwife in Training”…
I sat on the edge of the couch, staring into the flickering screen of my cell phone. “He’s probably fucking her right now…” I said, to no one in particular.
I didn’t know who “he” was – a handsome stranger in a hotel room. I had allowed Carrie to go…encouraged her to go…for my own selfish purposes. My selfishness now gave way to my insecurity…what if she likes it…
I dropped the phone as I reached for the bottle of Jameson on the coffee table. I downed the remainder of the bottle in one gulp – about two shots’ worth of tan fire water. I did not drink in celebration. I drank in shame – and fear.
As I recovered from the assault of the Irish hooch, I looked over at Lady, our spaniel, curled up on the couch next to me. “What have I done, Lady?!?” She opened her left eye because I said her name, but immediately settled back to sleep. Of course, this was a rhetorical question, especially when asking a dog.
I fell over onto the floor between the couch and the coffee table. I repeated the question as I passed out in an alcoholic haze – “What have I done? What have I done…?”