Soap Dreams. Stephanie Haefner

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      Robyn Miller jammed her hands knuckle-deep into a mound of raw ground beef and egg.

      “Mommy, Mommy, come quick!” her daughter yelled from the living room.

      “What’s going on?” She hoped her four-year-old hadn’t spilled her milk or gotten her head stuck between the railing spindles–again.

      After a quick wash, Robyn dried her hands on her black velour lounge pants and trotted into the living room, nearly tripping over Malibu Barbie’s Super Cool Scooter. Paige’s favorite TV show now resembled a nasty blizzard. The little girl stood with the remote control in her hands, volume rising, as the roar of static thundered around them.

      “Oh, honey, the station must be having trouble.” Robyn tightened the ponytail at the nape of her neck, then took the remote, immediately lowering the sound. “Let me check another channel.”

      After an exciting morning of picking up the dry cleaning, mopping every surface of the thirty-two-hundred square foot home, and prepping dinner for a husband who may or may not be home to eat it, she used this opportunity to rest, and plopped onto the leather couch. Ahhh, relaxation!

      She flipped through a few channels and saw they were in perfect working order. After surfing past her favorite soap opera, she instinctively clicked back, despite having been away from it for years. Even as a stay-at-home mom–or domestic goddess, as she preferred to be labeled–there wasn’t much time for lounging or eating bonbons.

      Robyn sank into the couch as the drama on the screen sucked her in and soothed her. The messy kitchen, a basket of unfolded laundry, the windows that needed washing–all her distractions disappeared as the TV beckoned her.

      It was a quirky roommate her freshman year of college who had lured her in–the perfect way to spend an hour in between classes. And the next semester, when the two no longer had their afternoons free, she’d snagged an extra VCR from home and recorded the show each day. Missing even one episode had no longer been an option.

      Once again, Robyn felt the familiar seduction from the screen and the faces of the never-changing characters she remembered. But there were many new faces, too. A hair-pulling cat fight broke out between two divas she didn’t recognize, and once their perfectly manicured claws had retracted, the scene switched to a young couple inching their way toward a bed.

      “Um, honey, why don’t you go clean up the toys in your room,” she said as the woman’s shirt dropped to the floor, her pink satin and black lace bra on display.

      Paige sat on the floor, playing, oblivious to the sexuality displayed in front of her. “Mommy, do I have to?”

      “Yes!”

      The administrative assistant turned stay-at-home mom felt some guilt at shooing her daughter from the room to allow this steamy pleasure, but that feeling quickly faded.

      The TV couple caressed each other with a gentleness employed only by a man and woman in love. His hand brushed her cheek and pushed the stray hairs from her face. She smiled and took the hand in hers, pressing it to her heart as a sultry instrumental melody played in the background. He moved his hand and kissed the spot where it had been, inching his way toward his beloved’s mouth.

      The girl had starred on the soap for ages, but this tan muscled guy was new. He pulled apart the snaps of his shirt, one by one, revealing an admirable set of six-pack abs. And when the shirt cascaded to the floor it revealed a tattoo between his shoulder blades. The bold black ink gave him a bad-boy type of sexiness Robyn had never found attractive before, but a momentary tingle swept through her body. She studied his face and lips, his eyes, and realized they looked familiar. Could he have been on the show years ago and she hadn’t recognized him? Maybe she’d seen him on another show or ad?

      The soap broke for commercial and she ran to the kitchen to finish her dinner preparations. Once her grandmother’s famous meatloaf recipe had been reproduced, she set the pan in the refrigerator and peeked in on her daughter. Seeing Paige was contently playing tea party in her bedroom with some of her most treasured guests, she inched the door closed and settled back on the couch with a handful of Oreos.

      When the show returned, the couple lay in post-orgasmic bliss, smiling at each other. The actor placed both hands on the sides of the woman’s face and kissed her. He pulled away as the camera panned in close.

      “I love you.”

      Robyn’s bottom jaw fell into her lap.

      Those three little words, quite insignificant on their own, were some of the most powerful in the English language. Coming from some random actor’s mouth, they meant nothing to her. But these words had been spoken with a familiar voice, one she had heard before. Many times, actually. This tanned hottie on TV wasn’t some random actor.

      She turned up the volume on the fifty-inch plasma and listened as the man professed his undying love for Cassandra Worthington, the spoiled brat heiress who everyone loved to hate. He told her he needed her and would move heaven and earth to be with her. His words floated from the top-of-the-line surround sound speakers and into Robyn’s ears. The familiarity made her shiver.

      The scene switched and pulled her from a deep memory. She snapped back to reality. How and when had Derek Woodsen started acting? Last she’d known, he worked for a landscaping company in the same town she lived in–the same town where they’d both grown up. Her mother usually knew all the local gossip and passed it on to her whether she cared to know or not. How did her mother not know any of this? When had Derek left Springville? She could have sworn she’d seen him recently. Was this his first acting job?

      And where did those washboard abs come from? He hadn’t had those in high school.

      Robyn grabbed the phone and dialed Anna’s number. Before her best friend could even utter a simple “Hello,” she blurted, “Oh my God! You have to turn on channel seven!”

      “Robyn, is that you?” Anna asked as a baby’s gurgles floated from the earpiece.

      “Yes! Turn it on now!”

      “Okay, okay.”