Another World Away

As April's fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass, a delicate dance of trepidation raced in her mind. The rich red liquid swirled, catching the light, and with each gentle sip, she felt the warmth of the wine spread through her, like a secret being whispered from her lips down to her core.

April was short, no more than 5-feet with dark shoulder-length hair parted to one side. She wore black-rimmed glasses that seemed a size too large for her face. Her face was clear and pale with hardly any makeup. She wore a full-sleeved knee-length dress that made her look like a schoolteacher.

Sitting in a lecture earlier that day, he’d been a flicker of intrigue in the periphery of her disciplined life. They had discussed questions posed by the professor during discussions in the class and she’d been impressed with his insight. But now, as she sat across from him, it seemed that flicker of intrigue might become something more.

She'd always been the epitome of virtue, a saint, her friends would say, but John had unraveled something within her, a thread of longing she'd meticulously tucked away beneath layers of loyalty and matrimonial duty. Entering the hotel restaurant, she’d worried that someone might recognize her, but she was a long flight from home, and Seattle seemed like another world away from Georgia.

April’s husband, a good man, lay in their bed each night, his breaths deep and even in sleep, unaware of the tumultuous sea churning within his wife's heart. She'd lie awake, her body aching with a restlessness that was both foreign and intoxicating, her mind adrift in fantasies that starred the man now watching her over the rim of his own glass.

She’d never laughed so freely as during the meal she’d shared with John. John was smitten by April’s smile. A dimple shown on her right cheek but not her left. As her hands cupped her wineglass, John stared at her fingers. Hers seemed like the hands of a child, but her nails were natural and perfect. He noticed she must have broken the nail on her ring finger because it was filed shorter than the others. Between her oversized glasses, her single dimple and shortened nail, she seemed so honest and unpretentious. John thought she was beautiful.

The air between them was heavy with unspoken questions. With each sip, April felt the battle within her growing. The pull of her desires against the anchor of her vows created a storm that both scared and excited her. She knew she stood on the precipice of something life-altering, the brink of an affair that could shatter the world she knew, yet the allure of the unknown, the thrill of exploring the depths of her own passion was strong.

She wanted to know herself in ways she'd never dared to before, to understand the complexity of her own heart. What would it be like to give in, to let John lead her into those enticing places she only visited in the solitude of her mind? The wine, rich and bold, seemed to embolden her thoughts, and she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to taste the forbidden fruit of this budding connection.

April took another sip, her eyes locked with John's. “Would you like to come up to my room,” he said in an even tone.

April held her breath for a moment. “Yes,” she said, blushing. The woman she had been might have turned away, but the woman she was becoming said yes.