The next morning, light filtered through the bedroom curtains, soft and golden. Nicki stirred, reaching instinctively for Steve, but the bed was empty. His side of the sheets was cool. She blinked, disoriented for a moment. The house felt quiet, though not entirely silent. Muffled voices drifted up from downstairs, low and male, too indistinct to make out words. Steve and Jim, she assumed, were sharing coffee and their us...

The next morning dawned crisp and quiet. Steve kissed Nicki’s shoulder before slipping out of bed, already in his running gear. “Back soon,” he murmured. “Love you.” “Love you too,” she whispered back, watching him go. Nicki lingered under the covers a minute longer, body still humming from last night’s confessions. Eventually, she rose, slipped on a tiny pair of white panties, then wrapped the short claret silk robe arou...

The next morning, sunlight slanted through the bedroom curtains. Steve and Nicki lay tangled in the sheets, two mugs of coffee steaming on the nightstand. They’d woken early, still buzzing from the night before, bodies loose and satisfied. Nicki propped herself on one elbow, red hair a messy halo. “Do you think he heard us last night?” Steve took a slow sip, eyes twinkling. “Jim? Either he was dead to the world… or he had...

The next night followed the same delicious pattern. After a quiet dinner—pasta, garlic bread, a bottle of red—Steve yawned theatrically in the lounge. “Another long one,” he said, stretching. “I’m shattered. Early night again?” Nicki met his gaze, her green eyes sparkling with mischief beneath the lamplight. She wore her short navy silk nightie under her robe, the fabric whispering against her slim thighs as she stood. “D...

Relighting the Fire: Part 1 Steve laced up his running shoes in the dim hallway light, the house still quiet at 6 a.m. Thirty years of marriage had carved comfortable grooves into their life—Nicki’s red hair fanned across the pillow each night, the way she’d murmur “love you” even half-asleep. But those grooves had deepened into ruts. Sex had become rare, then absent. Menopause had stolen her fire, she said; it left her d...