For It

"Your safe word is?"

"The children are home!"

"That's a bit of a mouthful, don't you think?"

"No, the KIDS are home, Craig!"

"Christ!" Craig scrambled to find his jeans, fishing next to the couch. "Get
some clothes on!"

He threw a bra, his golf shirt and a sock in her direction and flung his belt
behind the TV, killing the ugly lamp.

"You're still naked!"

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

"Sharon?" A memory fought upstream against blind panic. "The kids are at camp,
aren't they?"

Craig caught an ankle and, growling, tugged, "You are so for it, missy."