The Nuclear Option

A weekend at the hot springs in Truth or Consequences, NM

This is an adaptation of a previous piece published in the summer of 2025 and then removed that September. As with all adult content, this essay is behind a paywall. If you would like to sneak a peek behind that wall, take advantage of the free trial. And don’t be afraid to share what you did or didn’t like about what you found.

I’m running late, per my usual, when the handsome military man I met just a week and a half ago pulls up outside. I rush out with nerves alive with anticipation, dragging my small roller suitcase.

We’d had a single coffee date with the agreement that, if things went well, we’d kick the heat up a notch and spend this weekend together. The abruptness of it all was so ridiculous that we’d labeled this contingent plan “The Nuclear Option.”

In the car, we are a blur of conversation, longing looks, and sultry glances. I drink in the way his long lashes close over his cerulean eyes, speckled with green and gold. His cheeks are high-boned and prickly with stubble, and interrupted by a dimple crease on both sides of his lips that pulls just a bit to the right. He seems shy, which is to be expected, I suppose, because I’m staring so hard at him, delighting in his details: the outline of his ears, the slow fade of his short haircut, the curvature of the back of his hand.

I’m in a wonderland of discovery with my eyes, but I’m seeing him with my whole body. It’s as if the boundaries of my body have expanded, enveloping him, and he’s part of me.