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I was happily married. At least, I thought I was. I had been married for five years to a great guy. However, we were married young. I was twenty-three, he was twenty-five. His brother was fifteen at the time, now, five years later, I was twenty-eight, hubby was "over-the-hill" and little brother was twenty. Prime for the picking. My husband, Gary, really is a great guy. I love him, it's true. Yet, I need excitement, passion, adventure. Gary isn't the best guy for that sort of thing. He's better at stability, which at twenty-three, sounded great. Now at twenty-eight with my own stable job, I wanted danger. I found danger in Rod. His little brother had grown from awkward teen to hunky man. The transformation was amazing and slightly unbelievable. While away at college, he had become a man. One that I found myself fantasizing about while in bed with Gary. Then, one weekend, I got my chance.

It was his parents' anniversary. Gary and I surprised them with a weekend trip to the Caribbean while we would take care of the house (and the pets) for them. Rod was also there, but because he was studying for finals, we would take most of the work. Since we lived alone in our house, no pets, no kids, not even a real plant, we could spend the weekend at his parents' house without having to worry about ours. Rod went away to school, but came back most weekends to "get away from the partying". I know that's just code for "catching up on the work you didn't do during the week because you were banging every one you could." When I told Rod this theory of mine, he blushed and ...

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