I Spy

It’s a bad habit, a horrible one, worse, in some ways, than smoking or noshing on bacon as a snack or typing in my credit card number to order that latest must-have gadget when I know good and well I can’t really afford it. So, sue me, because I guess I just have some habits that are too good—I mean, bad—to ever quit. Chief among them is the one that makes me horniest. Reading my husband’s email had become my guilty, horny habit, one I just can’t give up, and I quit smoking after a 10-year, 2-pack a day habit. I remember exactly how it started, too. Pierce had forgotten his laptop at home one day and since I’m what’s known as a housewife, when he asked if I could drop it downtown at lunchime, I said I would. But I couldn’t help sneaking just one little peek at its contents.

That part was easy enough. As I watched, his inbox unfurled in front of me, full of the day’s business news, one note from his mom, and assorted penis-enlarging spam ads. But then there was one that caught my eye. The from line had a single name, Margot, and the subject line was “Moan.” Actually it was “Re: re: re: Moan,” meaning that my husband, proper blue-blooded Pierce Scotch, had been the one to start this conversation with Margot. What kind of concerned wife would I be if I didn’t investigate this?

Now, when you see a word like...