Dear Miss Lonesome

Sheena wishes her stepdaughter Ailee a good day at school. Door shuts. Phone pings. Miss Lonesome wants her taken lover all to herself. "Test the waters," Sheena tells her. "Ask around." A few days later Ailee drags the broom across the floor. “Hubby’s been slacking on chores,” she says, then can’t help fishing. “Mom, is everything okay between you two?” Sheena’s smile falters for half a beat. “We’re good,” she lies. Ailee watches her leave the room and the doubt still hangs there. Inbox bloops again. Miss Lonesome needs to know if it’s worth the trouble. Sheena shoots straight back. “Touch her arm, hold the look a little longer. She’ll either lean in or back off. Easy as that.” Laundry piles up on the bed. Ailee folds beside her, fingers brushing Sheena’s elbow a little too often, eyes glued a little too long. “I just like your makeup,” she mumbles when she gets called out. Last message. Miss Lonesome asks the killer question. Later, Ailee repeats it word-for-word in the kitchen and the pieces click. Mom and the secret admirer aren’t exactly dodging each other anymore. Sheena shrugs, owns the truth: they’re drifting apart, Ailee’s the only bright spot. She leans in. Lips meet. Tongues circle hard nipples, then slip between thighs until both of them forget Miss Lonesome ever felt lonely.