I took a long, contemplative drag on my cigarette as I looked at my husband’s naked body draped across my bed and, in particular, at the beginnings of his early-morning erection. Was he thinking of me? Was his arousal brought on by dreams of my throbbing vagina, wet with my desire for him? Or was he thinking of her and how her naked body had felt in that alley? We were back home in L.A. in our made-up world. Why had I been so anxious to go looking for something different when we were far from the normal, average couple?

Hunter and I had always talked about going to Carnival in Venice, and of the naughty pleasure the winding streets and murky canals might hold for us — our masked, naked bodies summoning ancient spirits in this almost-pagan tradition. So one day, fed up with the West Coast, the meetings, and the... Read More