The Statue Aroused My Wife's Desire

Synopsis

Andrew Johnson was touch-starved, but his wife Olivia Lawrence was a hardcore germaphobe, always keeping her distance and refusing any intimacy. If he so much as brushed against her, she'd go through half a bottle of hand sanitizer. If he kissed her, she'd scrub her teeth raw—ten times over. One time, he pretended to be drunk and crawled into her bed. She threw him out, sheets and all, like yesterday's trash. She looked down at him with the kind of contempt one would reserve for something dirty that wouldn't come off. "Seriously, are you just that thirsty?" Her icy words hit him like a slap, leaving him trembling inside. Three years of marriage, and he'd tried everything, but nothing worked. She was like a rock, never budging. At his lowest, he'd secretly hold on to her worn underwear just for a shred of comfort, feeling like some kind of pervert. Andrew finally stopped fighting it. He turned and went back to his study to print out the divorce papers he'd had on standby for ages. He was about to head to the guest room to get her signature when he saw Olivia step out of the bedroom and march straight toward the studio at the end of the hallway. The studio, lined with Olivia's handmade sculptures, was suddenly alive with the unmistakable sound of her moans echoing out.