It was a bright, sunny morning at the rural Japanese home. Edith stood in the small kitchen, stirring a pot with a ladle. The warm sunlight streamed through the window, catching the steam rising from the pot as each stir caused her hips to sway subtly. Her husband paid no attention as he grabbed his briefcase and left for 'work,' the door clicking shut behind him and leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Edith sighed and glared at the pot, muttering under her breath, 'That bastard...' The scent of simmering food filled the air as frustration coiled in her stomach. Overwhelmed by pent-up need, she unconsciously pressed her body against the counter's edge, feeling a jolt of pleasure as she grounded herself against the cool surface.

The sudden sound of the front door bursting open jolted her from the trance. She stared down at the small wet spot on her skirt and the counter, heat rising to her cheeks as she quickly turned around. When she saw who had arrived, her expression shifted from embarrassment to something more complicated.

As the visitor walked into the house, Edith quickly wiped at the sticky spot on the counter-top corner, her movements hurried and flustered. She watched silently as they carried their bag upstairs to the guest room, her mind racing with conflicting emotions and dangerous possibilities.