Hunger turns into a heated love affair when a woman finds romance in her open-concept kitchen.
Sandra arrived to her front door after a shift at her full-time job as a receptionist. Despite the lack of physical labour, the mental labour was always an overwhelming headache. She needed to lie down.
She inserted her condo keys precisely, as to not waste a second outside her personal space. After two tries, she was in.
Bag on the floor, jacket poured onto the dining chair, and socks removed only using her toes, she sank into a couch overdue for replacement. Sandra stared at the ceiling until her neck shifted towards the humming fridge sitting across her ‘open concept’ condo. She needed to eat.
Pants off, just undies and her bedroom shirt on, she slowly sauntered up to the refrigerator. The handle felt cold to the touch. Sleek. Smooth. The silver brush strokes. How does it do that?
Sandra rested her thigh against the fridge’s heavy body. She traced her finger between the rubber seal, dark red nails slipping inside it’s folds.
With a gentle opening of the fridge door, the air hit her with a chilling love slap. The holistic white light reminded her of safe memories.
Her skin tickled with goosebumps, and she faced up in bliss. Not even hunger could stop Sandra from enjoying this moment.
She noticed how pleasing it felt to rub her body against the beveled corners. For a moment, Sandra looked around to check if anyone was watching — she lived alone. Turning back, she pressed her lips against the fridge’s vibrating surface and groaned with pleasure.
Her light pink “Wednesday” underwear exposed a fresh wet stain. It was actually Friday.
Sandra grinded on the refrigerator, hand sloshing inside a bowl of leftover spaghetti. The appliance rattled against the cabinets, shaking the entire kitchen with passionate jostling, causing cereal boxes and empty water bottles to rain from above. It’s surprising, how sturdy the fridge felt to hold her.
Her left hand index finger rubbed the underneath lip of the frosted plastic. Sandra pressed her face against the door, which was ribbed with an abundance of artisan magnets. She lets out a primal cry. Relaxing warmth releases.
Deep breath out.
She grabbed the mayo and black forest ham and made herself a sandwich.