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Bad Chemistry

He had this weird magic power that caused all her good judgement to fly out the window.

Margo sat huddled in the dark basement. Upstairs, she heard the "click" of the back-door opening - opening in a sneaky sinister sort of a way.

That door was supposed to be locked! Margo thought, her heart racing. How did he get in so easily? Wow, this is creepy! I feel like I'm in some kind of horror movie. How did I get to be in this situation, anyway?

But Margo already knew the answer to that question. The reason she was in this nerve-wracking situation was her own fault. She had brought this on herself.

She heard him moving about. She heard him calling her name. First, inquisitively.


And then, more insistently.


She tried to remain perfectly still, not moving a muscle. Her breath was shallow. She should have gone into the closet, but it was too late for that now. She would make too much noise.

Margo crouched behind the big antique desk in the dark basement which thankfully, just had the last light bulb burn out. It wasn't much of a hiding place, though.
If he comes down here, he'll find me for sure! she thought.

And then...what would he do to her?

"Margo?" he called out again. She heard him trudging upstairs to the bedrooms.

The utter gall of this man! Margo thought. Breaking and entering? What if my husband comes home right now? And where did he park his pick-up truck, anyway?

It all started a few months ago, at her daughter Kailey's Back to School Night. Margo was busy admiring pictures of trees with fall leaves taped onto them, when she was introduced to her daughter's newest best friend, Dominique.

" she is!" Kailey had said, by way of introduction - as though Dominique was some sort of famous celebrity.

And then, Margo met Dominique's mom and dad. Dominique's mom was a decidedly unattractive woman with short frizzy hair and a big nose. But Dominique's dad - boy oh boy, he was a whole different story!

First of all, he was very tall - at least 6'4," with tons of dark brown curly hair and a mischievous moustache. He had the most velvety brown eyes Margo had ever seen...eyes that burned a hole right into Margo's skull.

So...she'd flirted. Not overtly. Not in a trashy, desperate sort of way. But definitely in a way that let him know she thought he was hot stuff.

Margo had looked into his eyes (oh, those eyes!) a little too long; she had laughed a little too loud. He flirted back with her. Of course this all happened after his wife left to admire a shelf of paper mache bugs, while Margo's husband was busy talking to another dad in the back of the room.

Margo could tell he was interested in her. She also knew that he could tell she was interested in him.

It was a sort of electric, unexpected moment, right there in the middle of Miss Krauss's third grade classroom - surrounded by paper mache bugs, taped up leaves, and picasso-like self portraits. A naughty little secret moment that felt strangely delicious.

The chemistry between them made her feel like everyone else in the room was just so incredibly dull and boring. Heck - everyone else in the whole world!

After that night, there were phone calls that were made under the guise of setting up play dates and asking questions about homework assignments and art projects. Phone calls that started getting a little...dirty. One time, Margo was sure he was playing with himself while they talked. She couldn't prove it, but...

Then there were the drop-offs for the play-dates. And the more overt flirting over glasses of Coke at the dining room table. They talked about everything, from Internet porn to their own personal sex lives. Margo learned that his wife would not give blow jobs. She bragged about how good she was at that particular act while he rubbed her thigh under the table.

He became incredibly turned on and time went by...and more and more aggressive, sexually.

Margo felt herself pulling back a bit. It was like, wait a minute....I thought we were only flirting! I don't want to really cheat on my husband...I have a pretty solid marriage.

But by that point, it was already too late. And to make matters worse, she couldn't stop flirting with him because he was just so damn hot! It was like he had some sort of magic power over Margo that totally caused her good judgment to fly out the window whenever she was around him.

So they continued to play this dangerous game of cat and mouse. He, of course, was the cat. This game was exciting to Margo. It made her feel like she was the most desirable thing in the she was a prize, and he wanted to win her. Margo, who considered herself only mildly attractive plus a wee bit overweight, had never before been made to feel this way before.

She didn't stop bragging about her sexual prowess - since she wanted the fun game to go on. And then there was this morning. He called and asked what she was doing. She told him she had just gotten out of the shower. This seemed to excite him. He asked if she was naked, wrapped in a towel. She flirted along with him, and told him she was - even though she was really wearing Walmart pajama pants and an old T-shirt that said I Need A Vacation.

He said he was coming over. She was home alone. Always when they had gotten together, the kids had been nearby. The kids provided a convenient safety net. Now there was no safety net.

Margo suddenly felt nervous.

"I...uh...I have to go to the store," she lamely concluded.

"No you don't!" he chided her. "You want me. You want me right now. You can't stop thinking about me."

Well yes, that part was true.

"Oh...well...yea..." she said, stumbling. "But seriously, I have a million things I have to a list a mile long. And my husband might be coming home for lunch..."

This last part wasn't true, since Margo's husband already brought his turkey sandwich on Rye with a garlic pickle and a snack pack of chips with him. However, she thought she'd add it anyway, for good measure.

"Nahhh..." he drawled, suductively. "You want me to come over...that's why you took that shower. I'm can't stop me..."

"WAIT!" she shouted.

But it was too late. He'd already hung up.

Then she'd panicked. She would go out, she decided. But she needed to get dressed and do her hair! Then suddenly, out the bay window in the living-room, she saw his white pick-up truck driving up the street. He had called her from his truck!

Then she really panicked. Quickly, Margo locked the front and back doors. Then, like a scared little mouse, she scurried down the basement stairs, and made her way behind the big antique desk.

The basement was almost pitch black since the light-bulb had burned out, which added to the whole horror movie scenario.

He won't come in, Margo convinced herself. The doors are locked, after all. He's not that crazy!

First he had knocked on the front door, then rang the bell numerous times. That was a little creepy and over-the-top, Margo thought. Then - nothing.

He must have given up! Margo assumed, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Quickly, in her head, she made amends.

I shouldn't have flirted with this guy to begin with. I have to be more careful in the future. I can't be acting like this. I have a good husband - a wonderful daughter - a great life! Why would I want to risk losing the very things that I always wanted so much?

She made promises to God.

I'm sorry, God. Won't do it any more! she vowed. I'll stop cold turkey - no matter how cute and persistent he is! After all, he seems a bit reckless and unstable...definitely creepy...

In part, it was the dangerous element of the situation that had attracted her so first, anyway. But now the whole thing had gone too far.

Then, Margo heard the sound of the back door opening...a door that never did lock properly, she had to admit. she was...shaking in terror; hiding in her own house.

Before long, she heard his heavy footsteps trudging back downstairs. Next, the heavy footsteps purposely strode around the living room...and then into the kitchen onto the squeaky linoleum floor...and then, oh GOD...they were poised at the top of the basement stairs!

She heard him try the light switch.

GO AWAY! GO AWAY! Margo screamed in her head. She tried to will him away through sheer mind power. Only, it didn't work.

She tried pleading with God.

Please, God! Make him go away!

And now those heavy footsteps were trudging slowly down the basement stairs...just like in that proverbial horror movie.

Evidently, God wasn't listening to her right now.

"Hey Margo," he said, in a strangely conversational tone, as though something very devious and strange was not going on at that very moment. As though he hadn't just broken into the house of another man's wife.

As though he knew she was right there, behind that desk!

Margo held her breath. She heard him stumble and crash into some storage bins.

He cursed.

And then he drawled, "Margo! Margo, come out!" as though she were a naughty child playing hide n' seek with him. "I know you're down here, dammit. I'm waiting for you. All of me is waiting for you...understand?"

Margo slowly let out the breath she had been holding in.

All of him...why were those few words so strangely....exciting?

Even though she couldn't see him, the nearness of him was already working its powerful magic over her.

Should she go to him? He didn't seem so scary any more. After all...she knew him. It wasn't like he was some stranger...

Slowly she stood up. She brushed her short black skirt down in the back, and took a deep breath.

"Kevin!" she said, submitting to the power of his nearness; her good judgement erased once more. He was like a dangerous drug that eradicates all reason, caution and hesitation and only leaves behind reckless joy and abandonment in its wake.

Suddenly, the fact he had broken into her house didn't seem so terrible. Instead, it seemed a passionate testimony to just how much he wanted her.

The chemistry she felt buzzing around the room was more powerful than any old logic or common sense.

"Margo!" he answered, a smile in his voice. "What is this little game you're playing, hmmm?"

"Hide n' Seek!" she flirted, giggling.

Silently, she said, Sorry, God.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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