It happened in the kitchen. They didn’t mean for it to happen, it just sort of unfolded on its own, without much of their conscious participation. “Afternoon delight.” Amid cranberry sauce and steaming rolls.
“Here, touch it. Can you feel it?” her hands were everywhere.
“I love it when you do it like that,” he said.
Sounds of smooching.
“How about now? Careful. Easy.”
“Only if you let me.”
“I don’t know. What if someone comes in?”
“They are still playing pool downstairs. We’ll hear them.”
“And what will we tell them?”
“That it was an accident. They’ll get their share.”
By the time the pool players came upstairs, the amber turkey that had just come out of the oven was missing its leg. The couple, caught in the act, was licking the grease off their burnt fingers.