Trigger Word

Daisy and Nick were going through the motions like every other married couple. Sex had become something they penciled in between work emails and Netflix. So they shook it up with a dirty little game. Any time they heard the word "chance," whoever spoke it had to drop everything and fuck. They picked the word to keep themselves on edge and out of their comfort zones. At first it worked like a charm. They fucked in the laundry room mid-load, banged on the hood of the car in the driveway, even went at it in the produce aisle after hours when Nick whispered it near the peaches. Then one random Tuesday Daisy hears "chance" from some coworker in the copy room. Her whole body tightens. Heat floods south and she can barely focus on her monitor. She holds out until her lunch break, then slips into the supply closet. Fingers working fast, skirt bunched at her waist, she doesn't expect the door to open. The janitor, Derrick, freezes for half a second before the smirk slides across his face. Daisy's already wet and keyed up, every inch of her brain craving the next release. Nick isn't there and the conditioning kicks in hard. She doesn't hesitate, reaching for Derrick's belt like she's been waiting for this cue all day.