Admit it. We all have secret fantasies. In these moments, we
stretch beyond our fears and limitations. We become the person we always knew
we could be.
Successful. Brazen. Powerful. Rich. Seductive. Unblemished.
In private inner thoughts, our potential unfolds without
boundaries.
Let’s consider Molly, a woman whose marriage is on the
rocks. A woman who has always felt inferior to bustier types. A woman who needs
reassurance that someone loves her unconditionally. A woman who needs an escape
from reality.
Molly might have this dream:
Gentle waves lapped
the pristine white sand. The sun warmed my bronzed skin as a muscular cabana
boy walked toward me carrying a tray of umbrella-topped drinks. He was much too
young for me, but he seemed riveted by my svelte body, his dark brown eyes
boring into me with animal-like fascination.
I flushed under his rapt attention. He caressed my cheeks
with long languid stokes, and my heart rejoiced. His breath came faster and
faster, and it thrilled me that he was so attentive to my every desire.
There was something familiar about his scent. I inhaled
deeply, freeing all the pent-up tension in my lungs, straining toward his heat.
My eyelids drifted shut with pleasure at his repeated caress.
+++
We are all cheering for Molly, right? She’s inhabiting a
world where everything is exactly as she wishes. A world where good things come
to her by virtue of her existence.
Her rich fantasy of a cabana boy who worships her body with
his eyes and hands is likely a near universal ideal among women of a certain
age. Having a fantasy like this, particularly in light of a horrible mess in
real life, provides an escape into a world where happiness reigns supreme.
However, Molly’s liaison with the cabana boy is in question.
Read on:
Something hard, cold, and wet touched my face. I startled
awake, surfacing from my cocoon of sleep. I shoved the object away, blinking
against the blinding sunlight filling my bedroom. As my brain booted up from
dream mode, I was filled with a sense of profound loss.
I wanted to be back on that tropical island with my handsome
cabana boy.
“Five more minutes,” I murmured, scrunching my eyes closed
and burrowing into my fluffy comforter. The heavy object rolled up to my nose
with a thud.
My eyelids popped open at the unexpected impact. Goldie’s
slobbery rock lay on my pillow. I groaned and then shoved the rock away,
blinking against the bright sunshine. I squinted over at the clock. Seven.
By now you may have guessed Molly is a character in a book
and that the snips above are excerpts from Murder in the Buff. The book is a
campy, offbeat mystery in which her father is accused of murdering a nudist.
Molly’s dream of adoration by her cabana boy, in this case,
her son’s golden lab, link back to her deep-seated feelings of betrayal.
Those play into her fears of physical inadequacy, giving a double wallop to
this flawed character.
In addition, she’s blindsided by the entire situation. Molly’s
a woman in jeopardy of falling apart at the seams.
I wrote her that way because so many times in life, women
get caught up in a double boiler of balancing career and family. We know we
aren’t keeping all the juggling balls in the air. We can’t. It’s physically
impossible. But we try it anyway.
Molly gets a happy ending, but she has to work for it. She
has to process her feelings and learn to trust her reactions again. She has to
decide what she wants and then she has to go out and get it.
In finding herself again, Molly becomes empowered. Gosh, we
could all use a bit more of that!
Maggie Toussaint
Murder in the Buff e-book buy links:
