Gym locker room.
Smut Marathon voting… (see the February 12 post)
I tried something new today. I’m not a cycling person but I wanted to take a break from running with something with less impact on my knees. I’m not sure I loved this. One problem is that it gets my heart rate up but doesn’t count as any steps on my Fitbit. Unless I’m having sex, I want my heart rate to be from plenty of steps.
I love rainbow-stripe clothing. It makes me so happy to see those colorful stripes.
That’s the Wicked Wednesday post I started to write to go along with a FebPhotofest picture for today.
But last night Mr. Scott took out a toy we haven’t used in awhile and it reminded me of the time we used it, which happens to be the last time I saw a rainbow, also.
We’d dropped off our daughter for a sleepover with friends and rushed home to have sex before we had to go out ourselves. We were going to a surprise party so we had to leave by a certain time. With that toy, however, Mr. Scott kept me on edge for so long that by the time I finally came, there was no time for a shower. I barely had enough time to throw my clothes on and smooth down my hair a bit.
It was a summer evening. It was sunny between passing thunderstorms. On the drive to the party, down a long, straight highway, one of the largest, brightest rainbows I’d ever seen stretched over the road. It stayed with us for several miles before the next storm caught up to us and made it dissipate.
I knew I looked like I’d just had sex. I wondered if people at the party would smell it on me. I felt sexy and confident. I wanted to say to everyone there, “We are parents and in our forties and we just had great sex.” Instead, however, I brought up the amazing rainbow we’d seen on the drive down. Most others had seen it, too. And I wondered who else had the same pre-party secret as us.