A year ago, my marriage was on the rocks. That’s not a flattering thing to admit, but it’s true.
My husband and I had been married for twelve years, and the initial sexy spark had long since died, replaced by kids, a mortgage, and bills. It was impossible for either of us to feel hot after a long day of work followed by more long hours caring for the kids. The only time we were alone together was late at night, when all we wanted to do was sleep.
John and I had always been a highly combustible sexual pairing, so the drought in our bedroom really worried me. I told my best friend about my concerns, and she had a suggestion: Pay for a sitter once a week, go to a hotel room, and live out our filthiest fantasies. Not just the humdrum fantasies like “an hour alone for missionary sex” or... Read More