Question. Is it acceptable to pursue your own selfish satisfaction when it causes risk to someone else?

Question. Is it okay to risk another’s life or happiness simply because you really want something?

“My father thought I was playing games with people’s lives,” Frankie said. “He said what I was doing was immoral.”

Jason reacted with impatience. “What did Marvin understand about morality? He was the least emotional person I ever knew. Forget about all of his academic posturing.”

“I would, but now I wonder if he was right. Maybe Brynn and Monica are dead because of me. Maybe I’m playing with fire.” Her voice turned smoky. “Remember Darren Newman?”

He didn’t like hearing that name, and she couldn’t blame him.

“You didn’t make Darren Newman the man he is.”

“Tell that to the girl who was killed,” Frankie said.

“Newman manipulated you. And a lot of other people, too.”

Frankie didn’t say anything more. Jason was right. Darren Newman had come to her as part of a deal to stay out of prison, and she wasn’t responsible for the consequences.

Except they both knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

She turned and faced her husband. Between the wine and the darkness of the solarium, she felt herself getting aroused. That was a rare experience this year. Her mind and her body had been strangers to each other, but right now, she wanted an escape from everything else. From memories. From loss. From her past. Her inhibitions fell away. Her fingers played with the down on the back of his neck. She kissed his lower lip and then teased him with her tongue, and she felt him respond. Her hands undid a button on his shirt, then another, and one of her fingernails explored his chest. She didn’t care if the world was watching them through the windows. It had been way too long, and she needed him urgently. He sensed it. His hand tugged at the zipper of her dress pants, and when it was down, his fingers fished inside, rubbing her through the lace of her panties. Her breath caught in her chest. Her legs slipped apart. She braced herself against him.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement in the living room, and she froze in embarrassment.

Pam.

She’d come out of her downstairs bedroom. She wore her shorty nightgown, with a mug of tea cradled in her hands. Her blond hair was mussed. She stood there, watching them, a smirk on her lips.

Frankie stepped away. Trying to be discreet, she zipped up and smoothed her hair and blouse. Jason’s face screwed up in annoyance, until he glanced over his shoulder. Pam wiggled her fingers in a sarcastic greeting, and then she returned to her bedroom and closed the door loudly. They were alone again, but the moment was broken.