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What is it about the tease that’s so hot?

You know what I’m talking about. That tingle you get between your thighs when someone exciting catches your eye, or when you catch his. The lingering looks, the hair toss, the silent communication. That time when your blood heats up and your body awakens as you feel the magic of “what if?”

It’s almost … intoxicating.

I used to flirt a lot. Men used to flirt with me. Then I got married. I haven’t gained weight or let myself go, but somehow, I’ve changed. I know it, and they know it. I think it’s because the chase is over. The magic of flirting, the heightened awareness that arcs between two people, the building of anticipation… it’s gone.

And I don’t know exactly when, or how, it disappeared.

The sad thing is, it also seems to have disappeared between my husband and me.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my husband. Grant is still very attractive in every way, and leaving him has never occurred to me. I’d never cheat on him, either.

Yet, I can’t deny that a certain restlessness has been building in me for some time.

The bed shifted beneath me, and my hand stretched out over the cotton, seeking warm flesh. When I found only empty space, my eyes cracked open and I saw Grant’s muscular back as he perched on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his thick dark hair.

Inching closer, I reached out and stroked my hand over those delicious muscles, all the way down to the small of his back. The sigh that broke the early morning silence as my fingers ran through the fine dusting of hair there was soft.

My body warmed, waking up slowly. With a lazy touch, I walked my hand around his waist, heading for that morning hard on that could be used to really wake me up and start my Monday off right. But as I reached him, the alarm clock sounded off and Grant smacked it.

He flopped back onto the bed and wrapped his arms around me. Soft lips touched my forehead in a loving kiss before he spoke regretfully, “Sorry, babe. I’ve got a big meeting, and I can’t be late.”

He gently rubbed his stubbled cheek against my jaw before pressing his mouth to mine. His tongue darted out for a quick swipe across my lips and I parted them, eager to take things further.

With a tortured groan and a sharp pat on my backside, he stood up and went down the hall to the bathroom. I tried not to think about it, tried not to let my body’s disappointment invade my brain. Instead, when I heard the shower come on, I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Fresh from the shower and, wrapped in a silk kimono style gown fresh from the shower, I strolled into the bedroom with coffee cup in hand. Ugh! Monday mornings were never my favorite. Mornings in general were hell, but Mondays were the worst. Which is why I liked my job at the boutique so much. As manager, I didn’t need to be in the store until ten and that gave me the extra time to become human before facing the public.

Only one thing really wakes me up with a smile on my face, and that’s morning wake up sex. I’d tried to get Grant into it that morning, but he hadn’t been interested. It sort of felt that way a lot lately. Like I was a little kid trying to get attention from her favorite teacher.

I stepped back from the mirror and studied my reflection. Married almost four years and still looking good. I hadn’t gained any weight, and I certainly didn’t look thirty-four years old, so that wasn’t why the spark had gone out of our sex life. And by no spark, I don’t mean we don’t have sex. We do, it’s just not…exciting anymore, or often enough.

When I was single, two weeks without sex wasn’t a big deal. I was used to it. But sleeping next to the sexiest man I knew night after night, and not being touched and teased or set on fire the way I knew he could… it was hell. A sneak up on you long slow roasting hell.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement. I spun around and saw a man on the roof of my neighbor’s house. Hmm. That’s what that nagging pounding was. I’d thought it was just my brain protesting its awakened state.

I couldn’t see the roofer’s face very well, but even at a distance I could tell he had a killer body. And as usual, the sight of bulging muscles made my pulse kick up a notch.

Shoving the image of the roofer’s hard body to the back of my mind, I went to work on my makeup. Ladies weren’t supposed to drool over men who weren’t their husbands.

Unfortunately, my eyes wouldn’t listen to my brain. I kept glancing in the mirror and checking him out. That was when I noticed he was glancing my way too. Adrenaline started to ease into my blood stream, a long absent awareness settled in, and a naughty idea sprouted in my half-awake mind.

Exaggerating my primping in the mirror, I piled my russet curls on top of my head and let the belt of my robe work itself loose. I stuck pins into my hair randomly so it had the sexy ‘just tumbled’ look to it, and bent deeper over the dresser.

The next time he glanced my way, if he was paying attention, he’d see the bottom of my butt cheeks peeking out from below the edge of my robe. After applying my mascara I straightened up and flicked a glance at his reflection. He was still working, but slowly. In the ten seconds I watched him, he glanced my way three times.

“Yes!” I hissed under my breath. A tingle of pride, of awareness, whipped through my body.

Then I realized what I was doing and my spirits fell. Flashing a stranger was the sort of thing Ginger would do. She was the “wild one”, not me. That’s not to say I was an angel, but when it comes to wild and crazy things, my tattooed and pierced spirit sister beat me out by a mile.

However, when I saw the roofer pause in his work and look my way again, I spun around quickly so my robe flared out, and gave him a quick glimpse of my naked body. I couldn’t stop myself. Pulling a casual sundress from the closet, I tossed it on the bed with a flick of my wrist and went back to the dresser.

A quick glance in the mirror assured me I still had the stranger’s attention, and arousal burned low in my belly. With a shrug of my shoulders, the robe fell to the floor and I stood naked. Trying to look natural, I reached into the dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of panties. With slow teasing movements, I slid them up my legs and adjusted them on my hips, then snatched my dress from the bed.

Once the material had settled loosely over my curves I gave myself a last critical look in the mirror.
A flush had bloomed on my cheeks and my blue eyes sparkled. Squelching a tinge of discomfort at my behavior, I peeked over my shoulder and saw that my audience was still enthralled. Energized, I picked up my unneeded coffee and strolled from the room, ready to start the week with my long lost sense of allure back in full force.