Bonner's Forbidden Feast

Kathlin Bonner, in her late 30s but still possessing a youthful glow, stands at the kitchen counter, her eyes locked onto the pie she's just baked. Her husband is away, the kids are asleep, and the house is silent. A sudden, inexplicable urge washes over her. She reaches out, her fingers gently touching the pie's flaky crust, feeling its heat. She licks her lips, her heart racing as she lifts the pie, bringing it close to her face. With a gasp, she presses her face into the pie, feeling the filling squish against her skin, the crust crumbling in her hair. She pulls back, her face a mess, a wild, untamed look in her eyes. She's never felt so alive, so free, so...wretchedly delighted.

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