2 AM Flanders Residence
Ned Flanders lay awake in his bed. It was one of those nights. He turned his head towards the side of the bed where Maude used to sleep. He could still hear her shallow breaths and see the fluttering of her eyelids as she dreamed of sweet nothings. Ned winced painfully and turned his head away. He didn't often succumb to envy, but on nights like these, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy that his next-door neighbor would get to wake up to the warm and loving smile of his wife in the morning. Ned sighed and stared at the ceiling. He knew sleep would not come. He thought it would be better to brush his teeth while he was awake. For the third time.
2 AM Simpson Residence
Marge was roused from her sleep when the bedroom door creaked open. Homer stumbled in, clumsily making his way to their bed in the dark. A thump and a clattering noise followed as he hit the nightstand, succeeded by a long groan as he fell face-first into the mattress. The bitter-sweet smell of hops assaulted Marge's nose. As soon as Homer crawled under the covers, he began to snore loudly. Marge wedged a pillow under her head and pressed it over her ears, desperate to drown out the rumbling noise. She wished Homer would spend even half as much time with her as he did at Moe's.
Saturday Morning
While Homer was sleeping off his hangover, Marge was in the kitchen preparing breakfast.
Lisa walked in, yawning and rubbing the crusty corners of her eyes.
"Mom, could you drop me off at school by ten? We have spring recital saxophone practice today."
"Oh, honey, I have a hairdresser appointment today, you'll have to take the bike," Marge said apologetically, breaking an egg over a hot pan.
"Couldn't dad take me?" Lisa asked.
"Homer is…busy, I'm afraid," Marge answered.
Her keen-witted daughter sighed and stretched her stiff arms.
"You mean, not in the condition to drive early?"
Marge didn't say anything, but she broke the next egg awkwardly, causing tiny specks of shell to mix with the yolk.
"Good day, Mrs. Simpson! The usual?" Cally, Marge's trusty hairdresser, greeted her with a big smile as Marge walked through the canary yellow and olive green doors of 'Snip n' Snap'.
Marge sat down in the barber's chair and studied her reflection in the mirror facing her. She had an enviably smooth complexion for a woman in her mid-30s. But the youthfulness of her skin was offset by a certain dullness and a slight purple hue just beneath her eyes. Her hair was a vibrant blue, devoid of any signs of silver, yet it was lifeless and rigid. She looked like a mom—a role she had comfortably and unquestionably adapted to for the past decade. Yet, there was still an urge to be a woman, a woman who could entice Homer to see her as something more than a nurse, child-bearer, or maid. A woman who could entice a man out of his senses.
"Actually, Cally…I would like to try something different this time."
Later in the afternoon, Ned Flanders was driving home from the Quick-E-Mart. As he pulled his red Geo into his home street, he was once again reminded that Homer still hadn't returned his snowblower. Given that it was June, Homer probably didn't need it anymore. Ned parked his car in the Simpsons' driveway; it would be most efficient to load it directly into his car and take it to the shop for repairs. He had seen Homer using it to trim bushes and dispose of trash bags. The blades were likely ruined.
He noticed that Homer's car was missing. Maybe he wasn't home. Ned got out of his car anyway and walked up to the Simpsons' front door. He was just about to ring the doorbell.
"Back here," Marge's voice called.
Ned's finger pulled away from the doorbell, and he followed her voice to the backyard.
But he couldn't find Mrs. Simpson. Instead, there was a young woman sitting in a deck chair, her back towards Ned. The woman appeared to be naked, her long azure tresses cascading over her bare skin. Ned's face flushed with discomfort.
"I've been waiting for you," her sultry tone murmured. The blue locks of hair were swept aside, revealing the smooth skin on her back. The young woman shrugged her shoulder coyly against her chin and held up a bottle of sunscreen.
Ned found himself rooted to the spot, unable to produce more than a sharp gasp from his lips.
"Come, I need your help spreading the lotion," she pleaded, squeezing the bottle. Translucent white balm spurted out, dribbling down her fingers. "Anywhere you'd like."
Ned stood frozen, torn between the instinct to run away screaming and the impulse to stare at the display.
The woman turned around, an eyebrow arched. Her lips curled into a small "o" and her eyes widened with surprise. Ned caught a glimpse of her ample bosom before she wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to cover a view that had already been seared into his mind.
"Oh Lord, Ned!" Marge screamed, almost toppling over in her chair.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't take His name in vain, I'm sorry!" Marge babbled in panic. She desperately tried to find something to cover herself, but there was nothing within reach. She couldn't rise from her seat for fear of revealing everything that hadn't already been exposed. It hadn't occurred to her that anyone other than her husband would be home at that time. She hadn't even brought a towel with her.
"I-I-I-I..." Ned stammered unintelligibly. He was well aware that he was still staring at Marge's naked body but, for the life of him, he just couldn't tear his gaze away.
Marge blushed so fervently that her arms and chest were turning a shade of pink. Ned had never known such a thing possible. But he must have looked as cerise as a fire truck himself. His eyes felt hot, as though they too were turning red. It was like staring at an intense fire, even after being told not to, because it would leave a lasting afterimage. Those dim red floating shapes one saw when they had stared at the sun too long and then closed their eyes.
Marge tried to curl herself into a small ball and cautiously peeked at Ned from behind the flowing tresses that hid her face. Her small pouty lips trembled. They must have had some kind of balm on them because they glistened. Like candy apple.
A car door slamming shut in a neighbor's yard finally shook Ned from his trance.
"I-" He tried to speak again but could not string any coherent words together. He turned on his heels and walked straight to his car, not daring to glance back at the alluring sight of Marge.
Once inside his home, his heart pounded loudly in his chest. The house was silent, the pictures of Maude adorning the walls seeming to stare at him with accusing eyes. He could hear his own blood coursing through his veins, as his mind struggled to erase the sight of a naked Marge.
His skin felt too tight and his thoughts were a whirlpool of confusion. He was a devout man, and the thought of lusting over another man's wife, especially his neighbor's, was sinfully outlandish.
He took off his glasses, placing them on the hall table, and made his way to the bathroom. Splashing cool water on his face, he tried to alleviate the burning sensation on his cheeks. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and wondered, "What kind of test is this?"
On the other side of the fence, Marge sat frozen, her skin tingling under the midday sun. She had been so sure Homer would be the one to come back, the idea that it might be Ned had never crossed her mind. The sight of his bewildered face, the flustered stuttering, the look in his eyes – it had stirred something within her.
She gathered her dignity and rushed inside, wrapping herself in a robe. A feeling of embarrassment washed over her, yet, there was a hint of thrill that lingered. She felt desirable, and that was a sensation she hadn't felt in a while.
Later, as she made lunch, she found herself looking out the window towards Flanders' house. She wondered what he might be thinking, what he might be feeling. A slight blush painted her cheeks at the thought.
Neither of them could sleep that night either. Ned found himself alone with his thoughts once again, the image of Marge lingering in his mind. He was torn between guilt and an unfamiliar feeling of desire.
Marge, on the other hand, found herself thinking about Ned's reaction, the look in his eyes. A small smile played on her lips, as she felt a warmth spread through her body. For the first time in a long time, she felt alive, she felt desired, and it was a scandalously intoxicating feeling.