TITLE: MY RED CARPET CRUSH
GENRE: Contemporary Women's Fiction
I was gearing up for a well-deserved and long-overdue climax when my husband whispered three words no woman wants to hear during sex: "You wanna minivan?"
If that wasn't a euphemism for some mind-blowing tantric move he'd read about in Maxim, Mark was a dead man.
"You've got to be kidding me." My enthusiasm trickled away like the proverbial sands through the hour glass and all hopes of seizing the elusive "O" evaporated. I pushed Mark off and rolled over to my side of the bed, facing away from him.
I suppose I should've been happy to be having sex at all. Mark and I had been married for almost nine years and he traveled so much with work that it seemed we were rarely in the bedroom at the same time. And awake. And feeling energetic or aroused enough for more than a chaste kiss good night. And without our five-year-old son, Sam, sprawled across us.
Thinking of how slim my chances were of getting any action didn't help my mood.
"How can you think about buying a car right now?" I demanded. "And a minivan... ?" I honestly didn't know which was more insulting--that he thought we were a minivan kind of family, or that he thought about it during sex.
Mark sighed in the semi-darkness of the room as he reached over and pulled me towards him into a spooning position. "C'mon, Anna," he murmured in my ear.