Mummy don't know daddy's getting hot

At the body shop, doing something unholy

He is lucky, lucky, yeah (ooh)

He lucky, lucky, yeah (ye-yeah)

He lucky, lucky, yeah

He lucky, lucky, yeah

A lucky, lucky girl

She got married to a boy like you

She'd kick you out if she ever, ever knew

'Bout all the - you tell me that you do

Dirty, dirty boy

You know everyone is talking on the scene

I hear them whispering 'bout the places that you've been

And how you don't know how to keep your business clean

Mummy don't know daddy's getting hot

At the body shop, doing something unholy

He's sat back while she's dropping it, she be popping it

Yeah, she put it down slowly

Oh-ee-oh-ee-oh, he left his kids at

Ho-ee-oh-ee-ome, so he can get that

Mummy don't know daddy's getting hot

At the body shop, doing something unholy (woo)

Mmm, daddy, daddy, if you want it, drop the add'y (yuh)

Give me love, give me Fendi, my Balenciaga daddy

You gon' need to bag it up, 'cause I'm spending on Rodeo (woo)

You can watch me back it up, I'll be gone in the a.m

And he, he get me Prada, get me Miu Miu like Rihanna (ah)

He always call me 'cause I never cause no drama

And when you want it, baby, I know I got you covered

And when you need it, baby, just jump under the covers

Mummy don't know daddy's getting hot

At the body shop, doin' somethin' unholy

He's sat back while she's dropping it, she be popping it

Yeah, she put it down slowly

Oh-ee-oh-ee-oh, he left his kids at

Ho-ee-oh-ee-ome, so he can get that

Mummy don't know daddy's getting hot

At the body shop, doin' something unholy

UNHOLY DREAMS

I dreamed I saw the devil's club

Growin' by the burnin' bush

And I dreamed that all your razor teeth

Grabbed tomorrow by the root

And I dreamed the long arm of the law

Was a one-armed acrobat

Yeah I dreamed

Unholy dreams

And I dreamed that all the sacred cows

Had been trampled under hoof

And I dreamed the moon had finally crashed

And lit fire to your roof

And I dreamed that there were sights unseen

And their visions could be sold

Yeah I dreamed

Unholy dreams

Unholy dreams X2

Last night, I dreamed unholy dreams

And in the mornin' when I woke

And you were gone

(Well) I believed unholy dreams

Yeah I believed

Unholy dreams

Yeah I believed

DREAMS

Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom

Well, who am I to keep you down?

It's only right that you should play the way you feel it

But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness

Like a heartbeat, drives you mad

In the stillness of remembering what you had

And what you lost

And what you had

And what you lost

Oh, thunder only happens when it's raining

Players only love you when they're playing

Say, women, they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know

You'll know

Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision

I keep my visions to myself

But it's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams, and

Have you any dreams you'd like to sell, dreams of loneliness?

Like a heartbeat, drives you mad

In the stillness of remembering what you had

And what you lost

And what you had

Ooh, what you lost

Thunder only happens when it's raining

Players only love you when they're playing

Women, they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know

Oh, thunder only happens when it's raining

Players only love you when they're playing

Say, women, they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know

You'll know

You will know

Oh-oh-oh, you'll know

It’s been two years since her husband died, but it feels like yesterday. The widow pulls off her wedding ring and sets it on her nightstand alongside a stack of cash. She counts the money and counts it again.

Am I really going to do this?

The white stripe around her ring finger looks soft and vulnerable. She sighs and pats her frizzy, auburn hair. He’s waiting for her in the car, her first date since she met her husband fifteen years ago.

She swallows. Hard. She knows it’s time to move on. She thinks back to a self-help article she read: Fake It Until You Feel It.

That sounds about right.

***

At the party, her friends are alternately full of praise — it’s so nice you met someone — and envy — your date is so handsome. The envy makes her heart clench. Her friends’ husbands are paunchy and careworn from providing for and chasing after children, something it’s less and less likely she will ever have.

She’s pouring herself an over-sized glass of wine when Ashley, a soft, pastel blonde with a hard, sour filament running through her soul, grabs her arm.

“OMG, your date is stunning. He’s so different from your husband.” Her voice lowers from a sweet soprano to an insinuating alto. “Where did you find him?”

The widow flushes and stammers, groping for words. Her date is tall, dark, and well-built, a classic romantic hero straight from central casting. Her husband was a short, blond spark plug with an antic sense of humor. She doesn’t like what Ashley is implying by different. Different is not better, she thinks, when her date appears as if conjured by dark magic.

“I’m sorry,” he says, taking the widow firmly by the arm and smiling blandly at Ashley. “I have to steal her away.

We’re late for a show, and we’ve already stayed too long.”

Arm-in-arm, they leave the party. The widow relaxes into grateful relief. She whispers in her hero’s ear: “Good job, handsome.”

***

The drive back to the widow’s small, tidy house is filled with companionable silence. Her date parks his car outside. His dark eyes question her light ones. Do you need something more from me?

She gives the barest of nods, and he’s on her, his lips parting hers and his tongue exploring forcefully while she clutches at his back.

Touching and tasting, they make their way out of the car and through the front door. As they fumble down the hallway to her bedroom, she considers the state of her body, so long untouched. Yes, she exercises every day, but she wonders if her pale, muscular legs have been marked by blue veins or cellulite.

She stops wondering when he unzips her dress. His erection pushes into her back, and all her doubts evaporate. She turns and sinks to her knees — thank God I chose the soft carpet — and takes his cock in her mouth, her tongue teasing its tender, bulbous end.

She can feel him swell and pulse, when he tugs her hair gently and shakes his head. He pulls her to her feet, and they sink onto the bed, a single organism of desire. She’s wet and ready despite ghostly pangs of guilt — she hasn’t been with a man since her husband — and guides him into her.

They find their rhythm quickly, riding a waving of sensation. She thumps her belly against his. He takes her hips in his large, warm hands. They soar and soar until they can only **** and gasp. She comes with a grateful sigh and so does he.

They fall gently back to earth. She drifts off to sleep, her head resting on her his hard, lightly furred chest.

***

When she awakens from a deep, blank sleep, the cash on her table is gone and so is her date. She slides her wedding ring back onto her finger and smiles

She staggers through the snow. She never should have gone to Alaska with her college boyfriend. She never should have agreed to spend her last winter break in a dingy hunting cabin. She never should have drunk two bottles of wine when he left to shoot a moose and then didn’t return for six hours.

And she really shouldn’t have said she would never have his children because they might inherit his mother’s short, dumpy figure and close-set eyes.

Then she ran outside into the snow, told him not to come after her. And he didn’t. He should have followed me anyway. It’s winter in Alaska. I could die out here.

Now she is trudging along with a blood alcohol level of God-knows-what and snowshoes that are two sizes two big, headed for Amarok, the nearest settlement. It has a bar, a small, home-style restaurant, and a bed and breakfast where she will be able to sleep uninterrupted by her boyfriend’s snoring.

The air is icy and hostile–nothing like the cold in upstate New York–and she wishes she were already sitting at the bar, laughing with the waitress over the perfidy of men and ordering a nine-percent beer.

Amarok is just two miles away. Or is it four? She tells herself it doesn’t matter, that she ran a marathon just last month, that even four miles is nothing for a fit young woman like her.

Yet her limbs feel like numb columns of lead and the effort of lifting each foot is Herculean. It’s just the wine. It’s making me sleepy. She passes by a large tree stump. It looks inviting, sooooo inviting, as comfortable as a calfskin couch.

I’ll just sit down for a minute and close my eyes. I just need a little rest, that’s all.

***

When she opens her eyes again, he’s there. Her boyfriend is looking down at her, his brown eyes wide with concern. She’s lying under a soft down comforter. Nude. She feels warm, safe, and cozy. Her boyfriend must have followed her, after all. How else could she be back at the cabin?

“You scared me,” he says with a nervous laugh. “Here, drink this.” She props herself up with two white, fluffy pillows and takes the steaming mug from his hand. She sips the warm liquid gratefully. It’s equal parts sweetness and fire.

“It’s rum and honey,” he explains, smiling. “It should warm you up and head off some of the damage you did with those two bottles of cabernet.”

She smiles sheepishly. “Thank you,” she says in a small, hoarse voice.

“Are you warm enough?” he asks, all suavity and solicitude.

She takes in his chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and narrow waist. She remembers how safe she feels in his arms, the exquisite joy he can bring with only his hands. “Not quite,” she says, patting the space beside her on the bed.

He begins unbuttoning his shirt. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He shucks off his clothes with just a few graceful movements and slides into bed beside her. She gasps at the delightful shock of his warm body pressed against hers. Their kisses are hot, liquid honey. His strong workman’s hands find her waist and pull her to him. She gasps and moans. He reaches between her legs and finds her warm, wet core. He dips two fingers inside her and, when her hips begin rock, withdraws them.

“Sweet as honey,” he sighs, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean.

When he slams into her, she is more than ready. They come together and urge each other onto new heights of abandoned pleasure. She can barely remember why they were fighting. He covers her mouth with his as a delicious tightness spreads from her belly to her thighs and then bursts into a shuddering release.

She closes her eyes and snuggles in his arms. She feels strangely cool and light. Weightless. As if she were floating.

***

I can see myself sprawled in the snow several feet away from a large tree stump. The lights of Amorak are just a few hundred feet away. Why don’t I go to them? Where’s my boyfriend? Why did he let me go?

One of the lights from town she sees comes closer and closer, getting bigger and bigger until it burns away her vision and her fear. She no longer sees her stiff, cold body dusted with snow.

She no longer sees anything.