ã€ŠThe Weekend Club | COMPLETEDã€‹


 Chapter 1

    I plant my chin in my hand as I gaze out of the window at the cold, wet, half-empty park in front of me. There are only so many times that I can be called a bitch by my clients before I start to wonder if the world is taking its hurt out on me for some reason.

    ¡°No, I know, I get it," I try to reason with Anita on the other end of the line. "But I ¨C"

    "No, you listen here," Anita snarls. She has been working with us for years now, and I swear, she¡¯s never gotten any easier. Every time we are close to finishing a project, she goes over everything with a fine-toothed comb and tries to find any little mistake that she can pick out to prove that it¡¯s our fault her latest business venture isn¡¯t already making millions.

    "You go over the numbers again, and you make sure that every penny is accounted for," she complains. "And then we can talk about this properly. You understand me?¡±

    She hangs up the phone before I have a chance to reply. I roll my eyes and turn my gaze to the window, trying to soothe my frazzled mind, but it¡¯s impossible to keep myself from letting out a snort of irritation.

    Things have been like this for a while at my job. Turns out, being a Senior Account at a large private firm is not as glamorous as it seemed, when I was still in Uni. The work can be mind-numbingly boring, and when it¡¯s not obnoxious clients berating me, it¡¯s my boss Julie breathing down my neck. And it¡¯s hard to get ahead. With so many Senior Accountants, my chances of advancement are slim to none. There¡¯s a rumour that an Accounting Manager position will open up in the next few months, but I don¡¯t have much hope I¡¯ll get it.

    I¡¯ll probably die mid-level management, I think gloomily, as I stare out the window above my desk.

    Gazing out at the empty park, I find myself thinking about the little music festival that happens here in the summer. The place is packed out for three days straight, with local vendors and musicians peddling their wares and crowds of people coming to sun themselves in what remains of the British summer sunshine. We¡¯re local, so we get a free pass, and we¡¯ve been going every year since Donnie was born. I have pictures of him as a toddler, sitting on his dad¡¯s shoulders, swaying this way and that to the music. At five, he¡¯s now getting too big to sit on my husband¡¯s shoulders.

    Of course, summer feels far away now. So do the years when I went to real music festivals, staying up all night taking drugs and kissing strange men. How long has it been, since I stayed up past midnight, or did something by myself, instead of sitting in front of my laptop or taking care of my kid in this flat that is starting to feel smaller and smaller?

    When we first moved in, I didn¡¯t mind too much that it was so small. We could have had a six-bedroom detached house in Manchester for the same amount of money, but we both agreed that London was where we wanted to raise our kid, to start our family. All the opportunities here, the ties that we both had and still have, were so important to us.

    Hard to believe that I¡¯ve been here as long as I have. It¡¯s been nearly a decade now since I moved all the way from Manchester to London. I don¡¯t spend a lot of time missing my hometown. When I do, it¡¯s usually because I¡¯m missing a younger version of myself, not Manchester itself.

    These days, I can barely tell London and Manchester apart. All I see is Victoria Park out my window, or the gym, or the supermarket. I could be anywhere, really. Certainly not London, which I first came to to find out what else might be out there for me.

    Once, Sean and I both had that dream: to find what was out there. Neither of us wanted having a baby to get in the way of us having a life, too. Besides, this is where we met, in London; down at the pub that he manages. Used to manage. I have to keep reminding myself of that. The Globe in Moorgate, not too far from the offices that I used to call my work-home. I started going there for post-work drinks with my colleagues a couple of times a week, spotted the tall, broad-shouldered man pulling pints behind the bar, and flirted with all my might. Finally got him back to my place, we hooked up, and the rest is history. Well, not history; the present, actually, but I¡¯m fine with that.

    "You okay?" Sean asks, as he ducks into my office. I offer him a smile, reminding myself that he¡¯s not the one who¡¯s just chewed me out down the line.

    "I¡¯m okay," I sigh, and I hope he buys it. I don¡¯t want him to have to worry about me; not when we already have so much to worry about, with only one income between us now.

    "Anita again?¡± He asks, and I nod. "She¡¯s a total bitch.¡±

    "Yeah, but I¡¯m not allowed to say that about her," I point out.

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    "So I¡¯ll say it for you," he replies. "Total bitch. There, does that feel better?"

    "A little," I admit, and he drops a kiss on my head.

    Sean is a wonderful husband. The kind that my family instantly fell in love with because they could see just how well he treated me. After a string of dodgy boyfriends, someone like Sean was a breath of fresh air ¨C for me and for everyone around me who¡¯d had to listen to me bemoaning the status of my latest failed relationship whenever they inevitably crashed and burned. Even though he¡¯s a London lad through and through, he¡¯s never made fun of my thick Mancunian accent or the fact that most of my family practically talks in code to him, thanks to our slang and local turns of phrase.

    "You want to come through and see Donnie for a little while?¡± Sean suggests. "Might get your mind off of things."

    "Yeah, that sounds perfect," I agree, and I rise to my feet to head through and spend some time with my son.

    I started working from home a year ago. It was a good choice at the time; a way to cut commuting costs and spend more time with Donnie. Plus, everyone was doing it. The office had become a wasteland anyway.

    I didn¡¯t take a huge amount of time off work when Donnie was born, not wanting to be one of those women who got stuck in a low-end job just because she dared to have a kid, so I thought I¡¯d enjoy being around more. Now, we get to spend way more time together. It¡¯s been much fun to see the little person he¡¯s become.

    But of course, now that Sean¡¯s been laid off, it¡¯s crowded in the apartment.

    Donnie is so much like his dad, it¡¯s unreal. Sean doesn¡¯t see it, but I do.

    ¡°I just don¡¯t think we look that much alike,¡± he protested over a glass of wine one evening when I was teasing him about just how much Donnie had turned out like him.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not just about the way you look,¡± I replied, cocking my head. ¡°It¡¯s the way you talk. All of it ¨C your little mannerisms, stuff like that. Trust me, I know the two of you better than anyone else. I can see it.¡±

    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll just have to take your word for it,¡± he replied with a shrug. It doesn¡¯t surprise me, really, that his little boy has turned out so much like him, especially since he was laid off. After all, he spends all his time with Donnie now. He said it would be good to take a break from working, to be a stay-at-home Dad. But personally, I have no idea how he has managed to keep his sanity with nothing to do but take care of a kid.

    It¡¯s not like it was his fault he got laid off, either. He¡¯s a good worker and a great manager. But the economy is on a downturn, and pubs just haven¡¯t bounced back the way that economists predicted. In the end, it was just about them making the bottom line. Which meant my husband had to go.

    "Mummy!" Donnie exclaims, as soon as he sets eyes on me. He comes barreling over to see me, flinging his arms around my middle and squeezing me tight. I hug him back.

    "How¡¯s your day been, sweetheart?" I ask him, as I dip down to his level. He¡¯s got a smudge of food on his chin, and I reach out to brush it off. Sean¡¯s never been quite as good as I am at spotting these little details, but he¡¯s getting there.

    "I did some painting," Donnie replies, grabbing my hand to pull me through to the kitchen to see what he¡¯s been up to. His latest masterpiece is the sunshine against a bright blue sky, and seeing it makes my heart twist a little ¨C knowing that we¡¯re so far from seeing that in person again.

    Things will be better in the summer, I remind myself. Sean will have a new job by then. Donnie will be on playdates with friends. I¡¯ll be able to get out of the house more.

    Sometimes, it feels like the walls are closing in around me. I get up in the morning, I have breakfast with Donnie, we talk about his schoolwork and what books he is reading, and I try not to pinch his cheeks at how damn cute he is in his big glasses. I walk ninety centimetres to my desk at the window, I work for a few hours, then I have coffee with Sean, then I work again. Sometimes I go to the gym after work. Usually, I¡¯m too tired. Then I make dinner, eat, read in bed, and then lie awake staring at the ceiling and wonder how my life has become so predictable.

    I didn¡¯t used to be like this. I used to be the person with the most exciting life; the person everyone envied.

    ¡°Jazz, are you ever going to settle down properly?¡± My sister, Annie, would tease me, when I¡¯d come back from a month-long sojourn to Spain or Morocco or Germany and share my plans to take off to somewhere new the next week.

    ¡°I might do,¡± I would always reply. ¡°But there¡¯s still so much of the world to see¡­¡±

    That¡¯s always been my attitude to travel. The very first trip that Sean and I took together was to Venice, about six months after we met. It was then that I knew he was the man I was going to marry. He¡¯d approached the new city with the same fascination and urge to uncover every little detail that I had, and I could instantly see myself travelling with this man forever.

    We have already taken Donnie on a couple of trips, mostly to Europe, not far from his home, and I know that he is going to be a little world adventurer, just like the two of us. But since Sean lost his job, we need to save money, and I have to work more, so it becomes more and more difficult to get away.

    I need some excitement. That¡¯s what¡¯s in order here. Something fresh and new; something that¡¯s going to open me up again, make me feel less stuck in this room, at this desk. I¡¯m sure Sean feels the same way, though he would never be thoughtless enough to say that to me. He¡¯s always treated me like I am the most thrilling thing he has ever found, and I want to be able to give him that same energy.

    But how can I feel that sense of newness, when we¡¯ve been stuck here together for as long as we have?

    Of course, there are our friends, but more and more of them are moving away, either to the suburbs or even farther away. And no one seems to have much time to meet up. Children and careers take up most of our time now.

    "What do you think, Mummy?" Donnie asks me, as he picks up his latest artwork.

    "It¡¯s beautiful, sweetheart," I reply, and I mean it. I just wish it wasn¡¯t the highlight of my whole day.

 Chapter 2

    I sigh and click out of the spreadsheet that I¡¯ve been working on all morning. Sometimes, accounting makes my head hurt, even though I¡¯ve been doing it for the best part of my adulthood. And right now, the numbers are starting to spin in front of me.

    I open up my phone to check out the texts in one of my group chats I know that my boss Julie would flip if she knew what I was doing on company time, but as long as I am certain she is not going to materialise next to my desk and look over my shoulder unexpectedly, I will just do what I want.

    The chat I have open is one packed full of my mum friends, most of whom I haven¡¯t seen in months. But we like to keep each other updated on our parenting wins ¨C and, when we¡¯re feeling honest, our fails. I start to read the texts absent-mindedly. I just want to read something that doesn¡¯t have to do with the tax returns of our restaurateur client that I¡¯ve been stuck working on all day.

    Okay, so I¡¯ve been doing a little research, Madeleine, one of my friends from college, has added to the chat. Can you guys tell me if this looks legit?

    The link that she has added to the conversation catches my eye ¨C I click on it, glad to let my procrastination take me down a rabbit hole.

    The Weekend Club.

    That¡¯s the name of the website that she¡¯s linked to. There¡¯s not a whole lot on there that I can make out; just the title, along with a few links to apps and other methods of contact. I frown, trying to make sense of what this is, why she might have sent this to us.

    I check back in the chat and find a small gathering around our virtual water-cooler, most of the replies to the link downright disbelieving.

    What are you doing, looking up something like this, Maddy?

    Didn¡¯t take you for the type...

    How bad are things getting with you and Ewan if this is what you¡¯re turning to?

    They seem to have worked out what it is, and it only bugs me more that I haven¡¯t. I pull up a separate chat to Maddy directly and shoot off a message.

    What¡¯s this Weekend Club thing all about?

    She replies a few seconds later. I can almost hear the playful giggle in her voice as she does ¨C if there¡¯s one thing that Maddy loves, it¡¯s getting a reaction out of people.

    Just some place that married couples go when they get tired of sleeping with each other.

    My eyes widen. What the hell is she talking about? She¡¯s been married to her husband, Ewan, for more than decade now, proper childhood sweethearts, and I can¡¯t imagine that they¡¯ve had any worse problems than what kind of coffee to put in their machine every morning.

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    Why are you looking at something like that?

    Oh, it¡¯s not for me. I just thought some of the other girls in our group could use a nudge in that direction.

    You¡¯re sowing chaos in marriages across the country! I shoot back, shaking my head. This is always how Maddy¡¯s been, wanting to push the boundaries and see what she can get away with.

    It¡¯s not about cheating, she replies. And then, a moment later, my phone springs to life with a video call from her. I answer it immediately.

    "What do you mean not cheating?" I laugh as I answer. ¡°Next you¡¯re going to send us to Ashley Madison¡¯s page!¡±

    "I just told you, it¡¯s not about cheating!¡± Maddy protests. "It¡¯s about finding other partners to satisfy your needs, outside the marriage."

    "So¡­ cheating?" I reply, cocking an eyebrow. She shakes her head, her mess of strawberry-blonde curls bouncing around her face.

    "Look, I¡¯m not going to get into the specifics, but I¡¯ve been talking to some of the girls privately, and some of them are having¡­ trouble with their marriages," she explains, leaning forward and dropping her voice dramatically, even though we¡¯re not even in the same room. "I wanted them to know there¡¯s other things out there. I just want my friends to be happy, that¡¯s all."

    "You really think their husbands would go along with that?"

    She shrugs. "Worth a try, isn¡¯t it? Life is short, why shouldn¡¯t we have everything we want?¡±

    I frown as I take in everything she¡¯s said. "There are women in the group who are¡­ they¡¯re having a hard time with their husbands?¡± I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

    She nods. "Yeah, something about being married for years, the sex drying up, and being exhausted all the time from running around after the kids ¨C that¡¯s not exactly what dream marriages are made of. You and Sean are okay though, right?"

    "Yeah, yeah, of course," I mutter vaguely, but in truth, my mind is beginning to wander.

    Sean¡¯s going a little grey around the edges now. After a few drinks, my friends tell me he¡¯s turning into a downright silver fox. I wish I felt the same way. Honestly, I can still see that he¡¯s objectively attractive, but there¡¯s something about being around the same person all the time that pretty much nukes any kind of sexual attraction you might have had for them in the first place. And since I started working from home and he lost his job, our sex life has seriously dried up; down to once a month, if that. Even then, I can rarely get myself in the mood. We need to spice things up, go out and date again¡­

    "You sound very convincing," she teases me lightly.

    I shake my head. "Sorry, I''ve just been distracted with work. Which reminds me, I need to get back to it. Can I call you later?"

    "Sure thing."

    She hangs up, leaving me alone with my thoughts ¨C and trying to work out just what I¡¯m going to do with this new information.

    I click back on the chat and follow the link again. The Weekend Club. Is there really that much call for women to find something outside of their marriage? Enough that someone would make a whole app to cater to it...?

    As I begin to scroll through the posts on The Weekend Club¡¯s Reviews page, I get my answer: yes, there is.

    It¡¯s a bit of a shock to see how many women out there have the same issues I do. I wonder if there are online forums for men complaining about the same thing ¨C that they can¡¯t figure out a way to inject a little more fun into their lives without accidentally nuking their marriage from orbit in the process. Because, like all of these people posting, there is no way that I want to end my marriage with Sean or upset our life together. I could just¡­ use something else. Something more. Something that I can look forward to, just to make sure that neither of us finds ourselves in a rut. I don¡¯t want him to look at me and feel his stomach sink, and I never want to think that way about him, either.

    Soon, my eyes are racing down the page with excitement, and I am wondering just how much longer I can go on pretending everything is okay. I reach for my phone and fire up the app store. I have to find this. And I have to find it now.

 Chapter 3

    Later that night, I am putting Donnie to bed, but my mind is full of everything I have learned about the Weekend Club.

    "You okay, sweetheart?" I ask my son, smoothing his hair back from his face as I sit on the edge of his bed. He nods.

    "Yeah," he replies, stifling a yawn. It¡¯s always difficult to get him into bed ¨C he''s at that age now where he wants to be around for every little thing, wants to make sure he¡¯s not missing out. After spending most of this evening trying to get him tired out ¨C reading, playing, catching up on the little bits of homework his teacher assigned ¨C I don¡¯t know how he can keep his eyes open.

    "You get some sleep," I tell him. "You¡¯ve got classes tomorrow, don¡¯t you?¡±

    He pulls a face. It¡¯s hard for him to socialise with other kids, sometimes. Teachers have pointed out to us before that Donnie doesn¡¯t always read social cues. So we are on a hybrid system, where he stays home some days and goes in on others. That way he¡¯s less exhausted by socialising. But he doesn¡¯t like the days he has to go to school.

    "I know, I know," I say, pulling the covers up over his little chest. "But you¡¯re going to learn lots, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    "Yeah," he agrees. I feel like he¡¯s saying that more for me than for him. I kiss his forehead again, head for the door, and flick out the light ¨C and, for a moment, I stand there and watch him in the half-darkness.

    I feel a little guilty. I¡¯ve been trying to keep myself distracted with Sean and with Donnie all day, but my mind has been wandering ¨C to the Weekend Club. I keep going back to it, clicking on the link and scrolling through before I close it again and try to push it to the back of my mind.

    But it¡¯s still nagging there. And I want to talk about it ¨C want to talk about it with the one person that I know needs to hear it.

    Closing Donnie¡¯s door, I return to the dinner table, where Sean is clearing up the last of the dishes. He smiles at me as I approach, and I manage to smile back. Oh, God, why am I so nervous right now?

    ¡°Something on your mind, Jazz?¡± he asks. I take a deep breath and nod, sitting down to pick up where I left off with the liquid-courage glass of wine that I poured for myself earlier.

    ¡°Yeah, actually. Do you want a drink?¡±

    ¡°Am I going to need one?¡± he shoots back playfully, cocking an eyebrow at me.

    I steel myself. ¡°You might just.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t realise how scandalous this was,¡± Sean remarks, and he goes to pour himself a glass of red before he joins me at the table. He doesn¡¯t seem fazed. Honestly, he must have known something was coming all day, given the way that I have been acting. I¡¯ve been doing my best not to give too much away, but I¡¯m not sure how I¡¯m meant to approach this without just diving in and coming clean about the truth.

    ¡°What¡¯s on your mind?¡± he asks. He sits down at the table and slides a hand across mine, squeezing lightly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­ looking into something,¡± I confess.

    ¡°And what might that be?¡± he asks. Oh, where do I even start? How do I even begin to tell him I have been obsessively poring over everything I can find online about the Weekend Club? That I still don¡¯t entirely know if we should go for it, but that my curiosity is getting the better of me to just the craziest degree?

    ¡°It¡¯s been hard since you lost your job, right?¡± I ask him.

    He nods. ¡°Of course it has.¡± I know that he¡¯s trying to put on a brave front, but it can¡¯t be easy not to have his regular work. And he¡¯s a social guy, always has been. Work used to be his main way of socialising. Now that¡¯s gone.

    ¡°For me too,¡± I say. ¡°Working from home. You here all the time. Donnie here most of the time. I just feel¡­ stifled.¡±

    ¡°I get it,¡± he says carefully, as though he is worried that he is walking into a trap. I want to tell him that he has nothing to fear, that I am not going to do anything to undercut him. I just want him to know that we¡¯re on the same page, that I totally get that life hasn¡¯t been the easiest in the last few months.

    ¡°I came across something lately,¡± I admit. ¡°Something that I thought, well, might be of interest to you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah?¡± he asks, perking up and taking a sip of his wine. I need to frame this as a bonus for both of us. I just have to approach it in the right way. If only I¡¯d paid more attention in those marketing classes I took in college, I might have known how to sell this to him¡­

    ¡°It¡¯s something called the Weekend Club.¡± I say the words as though they are almost hallowed, and he raises his eyebrows at me.

    ¡°And what¡¯s that exactly?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s kind of what it sounds like,¡± I explain. ¡°It¡¯s a club that connects people with other people, and they can hang out together every weekend¡­¡±

    I¡¯m not getting this across in the best way right now. I bite my lip and slow down. I need to make sure I am being clear with all of this. I don¡¯t want him to think that this is something that it¡¯s not.

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    ¡°It¡¯s for people like us,¡± I correct myself. ¡°People who enjoy exploring the world. And meeting people. Adults who want to go off on new adventures with new people.¡±

    He eyes me for a moment. ¡°Are you talking about swinging?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Not¡­ exactly,¡± I hedge. ¡°Okay, it works like this¡­¡±

    I dive into it as best as I can.

    The Weekend Club was put together a few years ago by a couple looking to make new friends outside of their marriage, people with whom they could escape their real life for a while before they came to their jobs and their families and their kids. And soon, it turned out, there was a large chunk of the population that actually loved that idea, and the club grew and expanded to cover most of the country.

    It started off with simple friendships, matching people with similar interests and experiences so that they could find the perfect friend to go rock climbing or art viewing or whatever with. But, with that kind of connection came something deeper, and it didn¡¯t take long for the Weekend Club to become more¡­ experimental. The only rules are simple: you have to sign up with your spouse, so both of you are on board, you have to attend every date with a totally open mind.

    ¡°So, you know, if you end up meeting someone out there that you really like, then you can do something about it,¡± I explain. ¡°But if you don¡¯t, you can just hang out and make a new friend.¡±

    ¡°New friends, huh?¡± he remarks. ¡°Not like we don¡¯t have plenty of those around here.¡±

    I catch my breath. He knows what I am getting at. Yes, the chance to make friends is a start, but really¡­ Really, there is a part of me that is already beginning to buy into the luscious fantasy of spending time away from my real life with a lover whom I will never have to worry about running into at the pub when I least expect it.

    "Are you getting bored with me?¡± He asks, and I shake my head at once.

    "No, no, it¡¯s not that," I promise. "It¡¯s just...both of us used to be so adventurous, right?

    "Yeah, we did," he agrees, and I can see a little wistfulness in his eyes. "And this Weekend Club is a way for us to try that again?¡±

    ¡°What do you think?¡± I ask him. He knows what I am pitching to him now. And, honestly, I would never have come to him with this in the first place if I wasn¡¯t relatively sure that I already knew his response.

    Before we met, the two of us were known around our groups as the ¨C well, I won¡¯t call it sluts, because that seems a little cruel ¨C but two people who didn¡¯t often spend nights alone. It¡¯s interesting, actually, given the way we came together, as though we sensed kindred spirits in each other. As though, having a past, we knew that we would understand our urges to get out there and meet new people and occasionally share a roll in the hay with them.

    Of course, we¡¯ve been monogamous since we got together properly. He¡¯s an amazing lover, that¡¯s for sure. When we both had our own separate lives, it was even more exciting to come home to him, to know that he was waiting there for me so that we could steal into bed together and fool around.

    But now, with a kid, and with spending all our time around each other, I feel like he can hardly be surprised that I am interested in the world outside these doors.

    ¡°What does this mean, exactly?¡± he asks carefully. He is dancing around coming out and saying just what is on his mind, I am sure of it. Maybe he doesn¡¯t want to seem too enthused at the idea. Maybe he¡¯s worried that I might take offence, or something, if he¡¯s too keen.

    ¡°I thought it could be a way for both of us to take a little break,¡± I explain. ¡°I mean, we always had lives outside of each other, didn¡¯t we? And it feels like we¡¯ve been¡­ stuck here, just the two of us now, for a long time. Don¡¯t you want to see what¡¯s out there again?¡±

    He runs his hand over the ring on my finger, the barest touch, as though once again making sure it¡¯s there ¨C that I really did mean everything when I said that I would be with him forever. I did. I still do. But that doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t think our relationship might benefit from a little¡­ well, something a little more.

    ¡°I mean, I can¡¯t say I haven¡¯t thought about it,¡± he confesses as he runs his fingers through his hair and narrows his eyes. ¡°But that¡¯s a very different thing to¡­¡±

    He trails off. I know what he means. His eyes search mine for a moment, like he¡¯s looking for an explanation.

    ¡°Is this because you don¡¯t want to be with me anymore?¡± he asks softly. I shake my head at once.

    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s never been about that,¡± I assure him. ¡°Never! Okay? Seriously, you¡¯re the only person I can ever imagine being married to. You¡¯re such a good partner to me, and you¡¯re such a good father to Donnie. I want to grow old with you!¡±

    I have to stop myself before I go any further. I am starting to get a little emotional just thinking about how much I care about him, just how little I would want to do any of this if it wasn¡¯t for having him by my side to keep me company through all of it. He¡¯s more than just my husband ¨C he¡¯s my best friend.

    ¡°No,¡± I repeat, finally. ¡°No, it¡¯s not because I don¡¯t want to be with you anymore. You¡¯re always going to be the one I want to come home to.¡±

    ¡°But you want someone else to go out to?¡± he asks.

    I nod. ¡°I think so. I know it might sound crazy to you, and I totally get it if you don¡¯t want anything to do with it. I¡¯ll delete all that search history from my computer and I won¡¯t even think about any of it, I promise you that ¨C ¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he interrupts quietly, as though it is all just sinking in for him right now. He shakes his head, looks up at me. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I want you to do that.¡± I bite my lip. Is he being serious? Because if he is¡­ ¡°As long as I¡¯m always the one that you¡¯re coming back to,¡± he adds.

    ¡°And as long as I¡¯m always the one that you are, too,¡± I reply. He grins. I can tell that side of it is just starting to sink in for him, the fact that he would actually get to take advantage of this the same way that I would. That maybe there is more out there for him than he has previously imagined, and maybe, just maybe, he can have a little fun.

    ¡°You always will be,¡± he promises me, and he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, brushing them over the band on my finger as though affirming this is where his heart still lies.

    ¡°So¡­ so you want to do it?¡± I ask. He raises his eyebrows at me.

    "I know it¡¯s going to be a lot," he admits. "And I don¡¯t want to let it get in the way of anything we have here. If it does, we stop it right away, okay?¡±

    "Of course we do," I promise him. "We come first. Our family comes first."

    He eyes me for a moment, and then, a small smile spreads up his face.

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s got to be worth a try, doesn¡¯t it?¡± he remarks. I have to inhale deeply to keep from letting out a little cry of excitement. I didn¡¯t think it would be this easy. I thought I¡¯d have to do a lot more convincing.

    I slide out of my seat and onto his lap. Is it just me or is he looking hotter than he has in a long time right now? I reach for my glass of wine and touch it against his. The sound rings through the room for a moment.

    ¡°Sounds like we have ourselves a deal, then,¡± I murmur. He slips an arm around my waist and tugs me a little closer. The corners of his mouth have curled up into a smile, and from the way he is looking at me right now, I am sure he is feeling everything I am.

    ¡°Sounds like we do,¡± he agrees. With that, he lowers his mouth and lets his lips caress mine, so that I can taste the red wine mingling between us. And I am sure that this night is going to be one to remember ¨C or at least, that he is going to do everything he can to make sure that I know all the reasons I am coming back to him.

 Chapter 4

    I feel like I have the best kind of secret.

    A secret that I¡¯m sharing with Sean. Ever since I brought up the possibility of the Weekend Club it¡¯s like there has been this fire between us. And while it¡¯s only been a few days, and I¡¯ve been too busy with work and Donnie to get the ball rolling, even just the conversation seems to have created the most delicious little tension between us.

    "Hey," Sean greets me, as I emerge from my office to get another cup of coffee. He presses me against the wall, brushing his nose over my neck, and I laugh and wrap my arms around him.

    "What¡¯s this about?¡±

    "Just¡­ thinking a lot," he replies, nuzzling against me. "About us. About you..."

    I snuggle into him and grin. I know how he feels. Even in the midst of the normal hustle and bustle of life, having a secret to share between just us is invigorating.

    That night, once we have put Donnie to bed, Sean and I settle down with a glass of wine to actually look at how we¡¯re going to get into this club. I¡¯m still not certain Sean is actually going to go along with it, but he seems just as invested as me as he slips an arm around my shoulders.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been doing some research?¡± he asks.

    I nod. ¡°Trying to get an idea of the rules and regulations,¡± I mutter.

    ¡°What exactly are we looking at here?¡± he wonders aloud. ¡°I thought it was meant to be some¡­ free-for-all, or something.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought, too, but they have plenty of stuff in place just to make sure that people aren¡¯t going to get exposed,¡± I explain. ¡°Which, I guess, is a good thing. Since I don¡¯t want everyone to know ¨C ¡±

    ¡°That you¡¯ve been getting horny just thinking about it?¡± he teases me.

    I grin at him. ¡°Something like that.¡±

    I fill him in on the rules. First things first, a sign-up fee of about a hundred pounds. Meant to filter out people just looking to snoop around on there and get a feel for which of their friends and family have turned out to be sexual deviants. Luckily, we have enough in our savings that we can pay that without too much concern, and once we have, we are allowed to set up our profile.

    The first rule of this place is that you start local. Start with people you might actually share something in common with. To be honest, I have been imagining running off across the country to meet up with some exotic stranger, but maybe this is for the best. More locally, we don¡¯t have to worry about travelling or ending up on a crappy date with no way to call a cab and get back home. The app links you up with people in your area at first, and, kind of like Tinder, you swipe yes or no on them and have it reveal one way or another what they think of you.

    Second, total discretion. Everything that happens in the confines of this club, stays just there. I like that ¨C gives me a little more freedom to do what I want, to bring all my fantasies to life. I can be a different version of myself here, and I can hardly wait to find out what she might be into.

    And third, of course ¨C no judgement. No matter what someone¡¯s into, whether it floats your boat or not, you hear them out. You don¡¯t have to do anything, but you have to be open to at least discovering what other people are into.

    ¡°Can we start going through potential matches?¡± Sean asks once we have set up our separate profiles. We have been a unit for so long that even doing that feels strange, somehow. But in a good way. In a new way.

    ¡°Yeah, I think so,¡± I reply, and the two of us start scrolling through our potential matches. ¡°If you can stand to deal with me looking at another man.¡±

    ¡°Oh, trust me, I can manage it,¡± he replies. ¡°The thought of you being with someone else is¡­¡± He trails off, resting his teeth on his bottom lip for a moment as he looks at me. ¡°A lot. In a good way.¡±

    Honestly, there are so many more people on here than I had expected. So many more hot people, too. Not just old people trying to spice up an ancient marriage. There are stacks of people our age, some even younger. I suppose that being non-monogamous is sort of trendy these days, after all.

    ¡°Hey, is this who I think it is?¡± Sean asks, holding his phone out to show me the person on it. I raise my eyebrows when I realise that it¡¯s someone we know. Someone we know very well, actually.

    ¡°I think it is,¡± I murmur. I furrow my brow for a moment, making sure that I am not losing my mind. Then I nod with certainty.

    ¡°That¡¯s her,¡± I reply. ¡°That¡¯s Meghan.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe next door is on here,¡± he mutters, shaking his head with amusement. I watch as he swipes yes on her.

    ¡°Oh, so that¡¯s what you¡¯ve been thinking about this whole time, huh?¡± I tease him.

    ¡°They said to start close to home, didn¡¯t they?¡± he points out. ¡°I don¡¯t see a way to start much closer than this¡­¡±

    He has a point. We¡¯ve lived next door to Steffan and Meghan for a long time now. They were here when we moved in, and they¡¯ve always been picture-perfect neighbours. Polite, generous, friendly. We¡¯ve had them over for dinner several times, and they invite us over to theirs on occasion.

    And I¡¯d be lying if I¡¯d said that I¡¯d never noticed how well they have maintained themselves. They are a little older than us, early forties, maybe, and Meghan always has the most impeccable mane of auburn hair that matches the flecks in her brown eyes. Her skin is always lightly tanned, like she¡¯s just come back from a long, expensive holiday, and her husband has the same energy. With his salt-and-pepper hair and that strong body contained beneath his button-down shirts, I¡¯ve always found him a bit intriguing.

    And since Meghan is on the app, that should mean he is too¡­

    Sure enough, after a few more minutes, I let out a squeak of excitement.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Oh my God, look, there he is!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Do you think that they¡¯ve seen us here as well?¡±

    ¡°They might have,¡± Sean says. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll swipe yes or no on us?¡±

    ¡°Only one way to find out,¡± I reply, and I quickly swipe yes next to Steffan¡¯s face. There is something about the way he is smiling in his profile picture that makes me feel a little fuzzy around the edges, in the best way possible.

    ¡°Do we really want to jump in with people who live right next door?¡± Sean asks.

    I pause for a moment. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I mean, if they say no, then they¡¯re going to know that we want to¡­ you know.¡± He waves his hand vaguely.

    ¡°But they¡¯re admitting the same thing just by being on here,¡± I point out. ¡°It¡¯s mutually assured¡­ horniness, I guess. If they gossip about seeing us here, then they¡¯ll just be admitting that they are, too, right?¡±

    ¡°You have a point,¡± he mutters, and he looks back down at the screen again. This time, I can see the shift inside him, the excitement building at realising this is both fun and safe.

    By the time Sean and I head to bed, both of us can barely contain our excitement. He slides his hand over my thigh as we lie next to each other, as though making sure I am still right there beside him. I smile, arch my back, and snuggle towards him. I can feel his hard-on against me, and I wonder if the next woman he is with will enjoy it as much as I do.

    We wake to a ping from his phone early the next day. I lift my head from the pillow and look over at him.

    ¡°Is it them?¡± I ask with excitement. He shakes his head.

    ¡°Just a LinkedIn notification about a bar management job,¡± he replies, his voice thick with sleep. ¡°Are you doing Donnie¡¯s breakfast or shall I?¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± I reply with a little sigh, rolling out of bed.

    I scoop Donnie up out of bed. Even though he¡¯s getting a little too big for that these days, I can¡¯t resist stealing a little moment to hang out with him like that.

    ¡°Good morning, baby,¡± I murmur, planting a kiss against his cheek as I take my yawning son through to the kitchen.

    I pour him his usual bowl of cereal, and he insists on offering me a few bites as he chows down.

    I smile and lean over to take a bite off of his spoon. I¡¯m deflated after the excitement of the night before, signing up to everything and feeling like Sean and I were going somewhere. And now, it all comes bumping back down to Earth, reminding me that I have a real life. The normalcy of it sticks in my throat.

    I push those thoughts to the back of my head and focus on my son. I know that I¡¯m not going to be able to stay focused on work today, and I need to distract myself. Fortunately, Donnie has always been the best way for me to do that. From the moment he came along, he¡¯s been my reason to drag myself through even the hardest days.

    We hang out and watch some cartoons, then pull out a colouring book for him to work through while I pick out his pencils for him. He is getting better at staying in the lines, and he bites his tongue between his teeth as he works, carefully shading in the mermaid on the page until he is satisfied with it.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± he asks me as he turns it around to face me. I nod, grinning.

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± I reply, and I kiss the top of his head. ¡°Do you want a snack?¡±

    I make it through the rest of the day and manage to keep myself busy, but later, after dinner, as I pin up Donnie¡¯s mermaid to the fridge, I can¡¯t help but feel a little¡­

    Trapped. Seeing that mermaid, contained in the four lines of that paper, just brings it home to me. I feel like she does, stuck inside the limits of my life. The domestic life is best lived with plenty to offset it, plenty to make sure that I am always happy to come home to this.

    I go to bed that evening and snuggle up against Sean.

    ¡°You okay?¡± he asks as I rest my head on his chest. He smells familiar. The way he rests his hands on my hip is the definition of normalcy.

    I nod. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good. Just looking forward to starting everything with the club, you know?¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± he agrees. He drops a kiss on the top of my head. ¡°But it¡¯ll happen. No rush, right?¡±

    ¡°No rush,¡± I echo. And soon enough, I find myself dozing off, fatigued from the malaise of the day just past.

    The next morning, I again wake to the sound of Sean¡¯s phone. He reaches over to check it, and his face lights up.

    ¡°Everything okay?¡± I ask him sleepily, rubbing my eyes. He nods.

    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± he replies. He holds out his phone to show me what has him so excited. I can¡¯t help but laugh when I see that it¡¯s a notification that he has matched with Meghan.

    ¡°Oh my God. She¡¯s really into you, huh?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, looks like she¡¯s not the only one who¡¯s been thinking about having us over for more than just barbecues,¡± he remarks. I giggle. I thought I would feel more jealous when he found another woman who wanted him, but if anything, I just feel excited for him. A little thrilled that there is another girl out there who seems to desire him, too. A reminder of all the ways that I have adored him for so long and how he can use them to seduce someone else.

    ¡°Anything from Steffan?¡± he asks. I reach for my phone, already wide awake with the thrill of it.

    ¡°Nothing yet,¡± I sigh, as I scroll through my notifications. I know that I shouldn¡¯t be let down, that I might just not be his type, but I don¡¯t want to be the one left without a date. I want to find someone of my own so that my husband isn¡¯t the only one with a fun night to look forward to¡­

    I manage to make it through the rest of the day without lingering on that thought too much, but I¡¯d be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t already feeling a little jealous. Not jealous that he¡¯s got someone, but jealous that I don¡¯t yet. From the way he¡¯s carrying himself, I can tell that Sean¡¯s ego is swelling at the thought of another woman wanting him ¨C especially a woman that we¡¯ve both known for such a long time.

    I keep checking my phone, waiting for something to come through, and I am just about ready to give up on Steffan and start looking for someone else entirely when something pings just as I am finishing up my dinner.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of Donnie,¡± Sean tells me as he reaches down to pick up our son. He knows that I am already distracted by my phone.

    I take a second to check it ¨C and sure enough, there it is. The very same notification that my husband got this morning, but this one is telling me that Steffan has matched with me. I bite my lip, lean back in my seat, and for a moment, it feels as though I am not even in my home any longer ¨C like I am lifting up, spinning around the light fittings. The thrill of this is heavenly. I want to punch the air, but I know I have to play it cool. If I am going to be a part of this app thing, I am going to have to make sure that I don¡¯t come across as an over-enthusiastic schoolgirl on her first trip out of the city.

    Once Sean has given Donnie his bath, he returns to the living room. When he spots the look on my face, a smile erupts on his.

    ¡°Steffan?¡± he asks quietly.

    ¡°Yup. He¡¯s swiped yes on me. So that means¡­¡±

    ¡°That means we¡¯ve both matched with them.: He raises his eyebrows at me. ¡°Are you sure you still want to go through with this?¡±

    I know what he means. This is the last chance we have to change our minds, to admit that all of this was just a fantasy and that we can¡¯t actually go through with it. But I can tell from the look on his face, and the feeling in my gut, that neither of us want to do that. No, we are in this now.

    ¡°I really do,¡± I promise him, and he crouches down next to my seat. A moment later, a message pings up on my phone. From Steffan.

    Hi, it greets me. Seems like the two of you are in on this. Maybe we could work something out together?

    I pause for a moment, then shoot a look at Sean. His eyes are practically gleaming with excitement. He nods.

    Maybe we could, I shoot back in reply. Sean slips an arm around my waist. This is happening. We are really doing this.

    And I know that I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way. I am finally going to get everything I want, and I can¡¯t wait to see if it¡¯s as delicious as I imagine it will be.

 Chapter 5

    I sit at the table and fidget with my phone as I wait for Steffan to come back from the bar with our drinks.

    It¡¯s a cool night, the sky darkening to a deep blue above us. A few of the tables around us are filled with people, but for the most part, it¡¯s quiet. This place isn¡¯t anything special. Which is exactly why I chose it.

    Discretion was the first thing on my mind, and I knew it would be the same for Sean, wherever he is right now. We chose places as far from our normal haunts as possible, in an attempt to divorce this from the rest of our lives.

    "We need to make sure we don¡¯t let anyone else find out about this," Sean warned me, once Steffan and I started making plans.

    "What, or else the whole building is going to think they have a chance with us?" I laughed, teasingly.

    "Not that," he replied. "Just¡­ People will talk if they know what we¡¯re doing. And you know how prudish they can be. We don¡¯t want this to impact the rest of our lives. Our jobs¡­¡±

    "I feel you," I agreed. I was glad someone had his head on straight. Given the way I was approaching this, I could have been caught fucking Steffan in our communal bin area and not given a fuck.

    Ever since we swiped on them, it is like the four of us have been playing a delightfully underhanded little game, something just made for us. We will catch their eyes in the corridor, and that flicker of a smile will pass between us, the sexual tension building. It¡¯s only fuelled by the jealousy I felt when Meghan confessed she¡¯d always had feelings for Sean. I laid in bed next to him as he fiddled with the phone, grinning to himself as he texted back and forth with her.

    "Did you always fancy her, as well?" I asked, and he shrugged.

    "I¡¯ve always thought she was attractive," he replied. "Nothing serious, I suppose."

    "Mmm, right¡­ I bet you¡¯ve thought about fucking her before, haven¡¯t you?¡±

    "Why, you jealous?¡± He shot right back.

    I snuggled up to him. "Maybe a little," I admitted. "But in a good way. I think."

    For this first date, Donnie is staying with his grandparents, and Sean and I are taking off to other ends of the city to find out what new parts of ourselves we can discover, unfettered by the constraints of marriage.

    I smile as Steffan returns from the bar and settles himself down opposite me. A few heaters have been set up to make sure that we don¡¯t get too cold in the enclosed outdoor area, but honestly, I have been feeling overheated since I slipped into the taxi to come out here. Sean is off on his date with Meghan right now, too, and I can¡¯t help but wonder what they are up to.

    Like us, they have an Airbnb booked for the night.

    ¡°Here you go,¡± Steffan says as he plants my drink down in front of me. This is my second of the night, and I am hoping that it loosens me up a little because I am feeling¡­ no, not awkward, that¡¯s not quite the right word I¡¯m looking for. Just¡­ just the newness of all of this is getting to me.

    ¡°Cold night, right?¡± he remarks. I nod, even though I am okay.

    ¡°Yeah, it is,¡± I reply. A small moment of silence falls between us. Okay, maybe awkward is the word I¡¯ve been looking for.

    I¡¯ve spent plenty of time with this man over the years, but it isn¡¯t until now that I realise it was all in the presence of his wife. I¡¯ve never had him all to myself like this. And I have to admit ¨C up close like this ¨C he is exceptionally handsome. He is a bodybuilder in his spare time, and while it¡¯s not exactly the most scintillating topic of conversation, it has kept his body strong and lean. I can¡¯t help but let my eyes linger on his forearms, wondering how they would feel wrapped around me.

    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± I wonder aloud, leaning forward.

    He nods, and a smile flicks up his face as soon as he senses that this might be something sensitive. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°How long have you been doing this¡­ Weekend Club thing?¡± I ask, waving my hand vaguely. I am not sure how specific I can be, since the two of us are in public.

    ¡°About ten years now,¡± he replies casually, not seeming to worry much about the people around us who might be able to hear him. ¡°Though Meghan and I have been in an open relationship almost from the start.¡±

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± I ask, widening my eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t realise¡­¡±

    ¡°With the line of work I did when we met, it only made sense,¡± he explains. I cock my head to the side.

    ¡°Which was?¡±

    ¡°I was a stripper,¡± he replies casually. I nearly snort a sip of wine out of my nose.

    ¡°You were a what?¡±

    ¡°I was a stripper,¡± he replies with a grin on his face. ¡°Did it for about ten years before I retired.¡±

    ¡°Like, you did the whole bachelorette party thing?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yeah, I loved it. Did parties like that, worked at clubs. I was very popular, the club managers were very sad to see me go.¡±

    I feel a touch turned off by the arrogance of this last line, but I ask anyway, ¡°And that¡¯s why you and Meghan are open?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it just didn¡¯t make sense for me to cut myself off from the opportunities that were always arising,¡± he continues. ¡°All the girls I performed for, there would always be a few amongst them who wanted the hot stripper.¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Really?¡± I¡¯m intrigued, although I¡¯m finding it a bit odd how he refers to himself.

    ¡°Like blowing me in front of their friends,¡± he replies casually. ¡°Sometimes, the brides would want one last night of freedom before they settled down. And some of them brought their bridesmaids along, as well.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my God,¡± I say with a laugh.

    ¡°How do you think I met Meghan?¡± he asks with a wink. ¡°I just couldn¡¯t be satisfied with one woman, after how many I¡¯ve had. Do you want to guess my number?¡±

    ¡°Ummm¡­¡± I don¡¯t really want to, but he obviously wants to tell me, because he leans forward and says, ¡°It¡¯s triple-digits.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± I reach for my wine. I thought my own number ¨C thirty-three ¨C was pretty high, but clearly, I was wrong.

    ¡°Maybe I could show you some of my old moves later,¡± he says suggestively, tipping his head to the side playfully. ¡°I¡¯m very, very good.¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± I demur. I don¡¯t know why it¡¯s so unattractive to me how confident he is. Perhaps because it doesn¡¯t feel like confidence; it feels like boasting. And it makes me wonder if he is overcompensating for something.

    He begins to launch into a few more stories from his time stripping, and I listen vaguely. I have never met a stripper before, but I guess it explains why he takes such good care of himself. He spent so long making his money off how good his body looked that I suppose it¡¯s only normal he¡¯s kept it up.

    However, his stories all seem exaggerated, and I can¡¯t shake the feeling that he loves to talk about himself and his crazy stripper life. He doesn¡¯t let me get a word in edgewise for a whole fifteen minutes. I keep subtly trying to check my watch to see how much time has passed. He doesn¡¯t get the hint.

    ¡°So, what about you?¡± he finally asks after another five minutes of talking about himself. ¡°Why did you decide to open up your relationship?¡±

    I swirl my drink carefully before responding. ¡°I don¡¯t know if we have an open relationship,¡± I begin delicately. ¡°We¡¯re only doing this within the context of the Weekend Club.¡±

    ¡°Still sounds like an open relationship to me,¡± he says with a shrug. ¡°So, what was it? Bored by married life? Or did having a kid stress you out so much that you stopped having sex?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not bored,¡± I say a little too quickly. Steffan smirks, and I take a deep breath before continuing. ¡°Sean and I still have a great sex life. But everyone craves variety. And since Sean lost his job and I started working from home, we¡¯ve just been a little¡­ on top of each other.¡±

    ¡°And not in a good way?¡± He winks, and I force myself not to roll my eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s taken some of the excitement and spontaneity out of our lives,¡± I admit.

    ¡°And your son, Donnie?¡± Steffan leans towards me. ¡°Is it really hard on your marriage to have a kid?¡±

    ¡°When he was little, sure,¡± I say. ¡°And obviously we have to be more creative about when we have sex. But overall, having a kid has made us closer. We¡¯re not just a married couple. We¡¯re a family.¡±

    Steffan slumps back in his chair and folds his arms. His eager expression has been replaced with one of petulance.

    ¡°Well, when you see my wife around, would you mind telling her that?¡± he asks grumpily.

    I¡¯m so surprised by the non sequitur that I don¡¯t know how to answer. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I finally ask.

    ¡°Just what I said,¡± he says. ¡°Meghan needs some¡­ motivation¡­ when it comes to having kids.¡±

    I squint as I try to calculate just how old Meghan might be. ¡°Is she still able to have kids?¡±

    Steffan glowers at me. ¡°She is, but there isn¡¯t a lot of time left. If we don¡¯t have them now, it¡¯s not going to happen.¡±

    I¡¯m a little disappointed by the direction that this conversation has gone. I was hoping we would be flirting on this date, not talking about his marital troubles. Hell, I¡¯d even take his over-the-top stories about being a stripper over this.

    ¡°Have you always wanted kids?¡± I ask after a moment.

    Steffan¡¯s eyes light up at the question. ¡°Of course. But I never thought that I could have them. In my line of work, I couldn¡¯t imagine raising a kid. It only really became a possibility after I retired. And there¡¯s no one I would want to do it with more than Meghan. She¡¯d be an incredible mother. I¡¯ve told her that so many times. But she doesn¡¯t want them. Says it would interfere with our swinging lifestyle too much.¡±

    ¡°It does make it a bit more complicated,¡± I say fairly. ¡°We¡¯re lucky we live close to Sean¡¯s parents so they can ¨C¡±

    ¡°As if sex with strangers is more important than raising a child! Than bringing another person into this world!¡± He snaps.

    I frown at Steffan. It¡¯s not exactly gentlemanly behaviour to interrupt me, especially when we¡¯re on a date. But he doesn¡¯t seem to notice or care. He¡¯s staring off into space, his expression darkened.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you agree?¡± he asks suddenly. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you take Donnie over the Weekend Club?¡±

    ¡°Of course, but¡­.¡±

    ¡°But what?¡±

    I feel strangely hot. I¡¯m afraid that anything I say is going to make it back to Meghan, that Steffan is going to make me look like I was criticising her.

    ¡°Well, I think it¡¯s okay to want both,¡± I finally say with a shrug. ¡°And if Meghan doesn¡¯t want children, that¡¯s her right. It¡¯s her body, after all.¡±

    ¡°Now you sound like her,¡± he says darkly.

    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°That should be a compliment, that I sound like your wife.¡±

    Steffan looks a little chagrined, and he straightens up and smiles weakly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you¡¯re right,¡± he says. ¡°I guess I¡¯m just a little bit envious.¡±

    ¡°Of what?¡± I ask, surprised.

    ¡°Of your life. Your kid. Having a partner who loves being a parent and would probably have even more kids.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like it¡¯s easy, being a parent,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s a huge responsibility. And sometimes I feel burned out. Sometimes I just want a break. But you can never get a break from being a parent. You¡¯re in it for life. And if Meghan doesn¡¯t want that, then I understand. You have to be very sure before you make a commitment like that.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course.¡± Steffan seems to be trying to backtrack on what he¡¯s just said. He signals to the waiter that we¡¯d like another round of drinks, then turns his attention back to me. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re a very good mother,¡± he says.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± I¡¯m not sure I am, but I do love Donnie more than anything on earth.

    ¡°You know¡­ there¡¯s one specific fantasy I¡¯ve always wanted to try.¡± His hand slides across the table, and his fingers brush against mine. Instinctively, I put my hand in my lap. Nothing about Steffan is turning me on right now. But he doesn¡¯t seem to take that as a rejection. ¡°What do you say we get out of here,¡± he murmurs. ¡°I take you upstairs, and I fuck you hard until I inseminate you.¡±

    I stare at him. Is he joking? ¡°You don¡¯t use condoms?¡± I finally ask.

    ¡°Of course I do,¡± he says, reddening slightly. ¡°It¡¯s just a fantasy. I¡¯d use protection.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± I say quickly. ¡°I don¡¯t really have that particular fantasy.¡±

    ¡°Come on,¡± he coaxes. ¡°I promise, you¡¯ll really like it when my seed is getting you pregnant.¡±

    That¡¯s when I decide it¡¯s time to call it a night. Truthfully, I am a little aroused by what he¡¯s saying, but there¡¯s no way I¡¯m having sex with him. Not after he spent our entire date being full of himself and then complaining about his wife and childless marriage.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to head out.¡± I stand up before he can say anything. The look of surprise on his face is worth any embarrassment I feel at leaving so abruptly. He clearly isn¡¯t used to getting rejected.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± He stands as well. ¡°Can I walk you to your car?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m alright. Thank you for the drinks.¡± I make a beeline for the exit. It isn¡¯t until I¡¯m out in the fresh air that I take a deep breath. Annoyance and disappointment are swirling within me. I¡¯m annoyed that Steffan was so obnoxious, but more than that, I¡¯m disappointed that the Weekend Club didn¡¯t provide me with a spectacular date. I want to feel that newness and excitement with someone, not be bored to tears by some whiny manchild.

    There¡¯s also a third emotion coursing through me: jealousy. Because across town, somewhere, I have a feeling that Sean is having a much better night than I am.

 Chapter 6

    Sure enough, Sean gets home the next morning. After he kisses me on the forehead, he goes to the kitchen, where he hums as he makes some coffee. He hasn¡¯t hummed like that after a night with me in a long time.

    As he makes breakfast, I wait in the sitting room, mulling over everything that has happened. Donnie is with his grandparents for another day, so we have the place to ourselves today. It¡¯s good; a chance to decompress and come back together after all that has happened. Honestly, I¡¯m not sure how to wrap my head around the fact that we both went on dates with other people, and that Sean seems to have had a better time than I did.

    Yes, there¡¯s some jealousy there. Of course there is. It would be strange if there wasn¡¯t. I¡¯ve been with this man for years, and knowing that he has been with someone else is¡­ bizarre, to say the least. I wonder if I can still smell a little of her perfume on his skin, a reminder of where he has been. It¡¯s a strange contrast, seeing him standing in our kitchen like always but knowing that he has come from a hook-up with another woman.

    I have to admit, it was kind of odd for me when I woke up the next morning. I¡¯m not used to the bed being empty, or to thinking about my husband in a different bed with another woman, maybe cuddling her or going for another round of sex.

    I was prepared for some strangeness, but I¡¯m still trying to navigate the emotions in my head. I like thinking of Sean being so attractive that another woman wants him, but we¡¯ve been monogamous for so long that it feels like it goes against some fundamental truth. I know it¡¯s going to take a while to shake off that sensation, and I hope I can soon ¨C because I am already craving another date. One that doesn¡¯t end in me going home alone.

    I want what Sean is clearly still enjoying the memory of: a night of wild sex with a stranger.

    ¡°Good night with Meghan?¡± I ask as I come into the kitchen. He grins at me and nods.

    ¡°Are you jealous?¡± he asks.

    I laugh. ¡°Oh, no,¡± I reply at once, fronting quickly. ¡°Just glad to see you¡¯re so happy, that¡¯s all.¡±

    It¡¯s true, I am. I¡¯m glad that he had a good time with his first conquest in this club, but I am wondering if I¡¯m going to have to quench this rise of jealousy every time.

    We agreed not to share the details of our time with other people ¨C no specifics. But honestly, I really want to know. What did he do with her? How good was it? Is she better in bed than me? Does she have a better body?

    I suppose that it¡¯s natural, to feel this sprig of jealousy inside me at the thought of all that he could have done with this other woman. It¡¯s not as though I have done a great deal to keep him sexually satisfied these past few months. We haven¡¯t had a lot of sex, and most of the time we¡¯ve spent together hasn¡¯t been high quality, given that I am usually moaning about my clients instead of moaning underneath him.

    ¡°Do you want to process everything you¡¯re feeling?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Maybe later,¡± I say. ¡°For now, I think I want to go to the gym.¡±

    ¡°Alright. But Jazz?¡± He catches my wrist as I head towards the door. I turn back and look at him.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°I love you, okay? Only you.¡±

    And I believe him. But that doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t need to make sure it stays that way. And after I return from the gym, I¡¯ve made up my mind that I¡¯m going to give him a night to remember. I can¡¯t recall the last time I really went all-out for him, and maybe it¡¯s just because I have some competition now, but I feel like I have a point to prove.

    I spend the afternoon cleaning, and after he heads out in the early evening to meet a friend for drinks, I go to the market to grab a couple of his favourite beers and the ingredients for his favourite dish, Pad Thai. As I head back to the house, I feel a little flutter in my chest. We haven¡¯t had a romantic night in a while, and I feel nervous. In a good way. It reminds me of the nerves I had when we were first dating.

    I put the food on for when he gets back, knowing that there¡¯s a match tonight that he wants to watch. Usually, I would take that time to work, but instead, I focus on how to lavish Sean with attention. I dig around in my drawers until I find the outfit that I know is perfect for what I have planned ¨C a red dress, tight around the waist and low-cut around the cleavage. The very same one that I wore on our first date, when we snogged down a side street across from the bar he had taken me to. I make sure to leave my bra off, to give him a generous glimpse of cleavage each and every time I move. I hope he enjoys it as much as I do.

    By the time he gets back, I have slicked on some red lipstick to match the dress and am feeling every bit the vixen I know I can be. He raises his eyebrows as he looks me up and down slowly.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t you look good?¡± he murmurs. He takes a step towards me, hand on my hip. ¡°What¡¯s this in aid of?¡±

    ¡°We have the night to ourselves,¡± I remark, a little coyly. ¡°Thought you might want to make the most of it¡­¡±

    I lead him to the couch, where I already have a beer laid out for him and the match tuned in on the television. He sinks into his favourite seat, and I can tell from the way he¡¯s carrying himself that he already feels like a damn king. That¡¯s just what I want. To remind him why he comes back to me no matter what else that other woman might have done for him.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    He reaches for his beer, and I can tell that he is expecting me to head off and take care of work as I usually do ¨C but this time, I have something else entirely in mind. I sink down to my knees in front of him and run my hands up the inside of his thighs, biting my lip as I look up at him. See, I am trying to say. I remember how to be a sex kitten, how to turn you on¡­

    I reach his crotch and rub my hand over the swiftly-swelling hardness of his cock beneath his trousers. He groans, and I slowly unzip him and shift a little forward, making sure that he can get a good view of my bare tits as I lower my mouth to the head of his cock.

    He is already hard by the time I seal my lips around him, and the sound that he makes as I swirl my tongue thrills me. I can¡¯t remember the last time I got him to make that noise, the last time I heard him so given over to the sheer intensity of the chemistry between us.

    I move my mouth down a little farther, taking my time, enveloping as much of his shaft as I can between my lips. At the base, I wrap my fingers around him and squeeze softly. My other hand moves to his balls, and I massage them gently, listening to the way his breathing seems to tighten. It¡¯s been a while since I last blew him, but it¡¯s all coming back to me now. Just like riding a bike. Or riding a¡­

    I moan softly as his member hits the back of my throat. I begin to squeeze his balls lightly, bobbing my head up and down, taking my time, letting him luxuriate in the feeling of my lips and tongue worshipping his cock¡­

    Eventually, I have to pull back to catch my breath. He is staring down at me as though I am the sexiest fucking thing he¡¯s ever seen, and he seems hardly able to focus on the football or the beer that I brought him.

    ¡°Pull your dress down,¡± he orders. I do as I am told at once ¨C shifting so that my cleavage is visible, my tits are out. And then, I start to blow him again, this time going a little harder than before, the saliva from the last time making it even easier to take him deeper and faster.

    It doesn¡¯t take long until I can feel him stiffening between my lips, a sure sign that he is getting close to the edge. I am determined to push him right over and into the release he is craving so badly. It doesn¡¯t take much more. I begin to move my hand up and down at the same pace as my mouth, and soon enough, I feel the first jet of his cum hit the back of my throat.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± he groans. I look up at him, my husband, his face so written with want and lust for me that he can hardly take it. He pushes himself a little deeper into my throat and holds himself there as he finishes, and I don¡¯t take my eyes off of him until I have milked the last drops of semen from his cock.

    I thought he would be done after that, but no, he seems to have forgotten about the match and the beer entirely. He practically springs me through to the bedroom, stripping off my dress and tossing it aside before he does the same with his own clothes. There is such lust written on his face, such desire, that it makes my head spin. I can¡¯t remember the last time I saw it aimed at me. But now that it is, I can feel that familiar addiction to it starting to rise.

    He moves on top of me, kissing my neck, my breasts, drawing my nipples into his mouth and sucking on them softly as his cock stirs back to life again. When he is hard again, he wraps his arms around me and pushes inside me. I cry out, gripping the small of his back, pushing him deeper inside. Needing him. Needing to feel each and every second of this that I can.

    I hook my ankles behind his back and pull him inside me, and I begin to rock against him, not taking my eyes off of him the entire time. He goes slow, in no rush, not frantic. He has already cum once, so I know that he is going to last, and the delicious feeling of him spreading me is almost more than I can take. I don¡¯t want it to end. I don¡¯t ever want it to end¡­

    It doesn¡¯t take long until I feel the orgasm starting to bloom inside me, that overheated sensation that takes me right to the edge and teeters me there for a long time before I finally feel myself start to crest. I grind against him harder, moving my hips this way and that, taking him deeper and deeper inside me. His breath starts to become ragged against my ear.

    ¡°I want to feel you cum inside me,¡± I breathe into his ear, and I mean it. I can¡¯t think of anything more intimate, more erotic, than the thought of him finishing inside me. He thrusts himself deep, hard, our bodies coming together so intently that it¡¯s the only thing I can hear in the room around us ¨C and then, I feel it, his cock thickening again in the split second before he cums, and then the way he seems to soften into me as he finishes.

    The warmth of his seed inside me is all that it takes to push me over the edge, and I cum hard, squeezing my thighs tight around him to hold him in place as my body convulses. His lips find mine and he kisses me, softly, slowly, taking his time, holding me there for a long moment before he pulls back and slides onto the bed beside me.

    ¡°That was¡­¡± he murmurs. I smile, turning to him.

    ¡°Oh, I know,¡± I reply. I glance past him at the clock on the bedside table. ¡°Holy shit, we were at that for nearly an hour!¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± he says with a laugh. ¡°Been a while since we¡¯ve just let it happen like that, huh?¡±

    ¡°It really has,¡± I agree, and I turn and plant a hand on his chest, admiring the shape of his body next to mine. It¡¯s like I am seeing him again for the first time, this man who I have loved for so long that I have almost forgotten what it is like not to.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry it¡¯s¡­ I mean, I feel sometimes like it¡¯s my fault,¡± I blurt out.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t,¡± he murmurs, covering my hand with his. ¡°It¡¯s just a long term relationship.¡± I can feel his heart beating, coming down from the high that we were both just on, and I know that I want to go there again with him. And again, and again.

    ¡°It was the thought of you with her,¡± I confess. ¡°It¡­ made me realise that I still want to be your favourite. And that I¡¯m going to have to start putting in some more effort to do that.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re always going to be my favourite,¡± he assures me. He brings my hand to his lips and plants a kiss on each of my fingers. ¡°You know that, right?¡±

    ¡°I do. But I¡¯d¡­ like to be reminded of it more. You know what I mean?¡±

    ¡°And how do we do that?¡± he asks.

    ¡°I guess that we keep at the Club,¡± I reply. ¡°It was the thought of you, with her¡­ I think I want that again. To think of you like that, I mean.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± he replies. He reaches over to the side of the bed and fishes out his phone from his pocket.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I ask curiously.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to start looking for my next match. I think you just proved to me how perfect this Weekend Club thing really is.¡±

 Chapter 7

    ¡°Hmm, how¡¯s the search going?¡± I ask Sean, planting my head on his shoulder and peering to see what he¡¯s looking at on his phone.

    ¡°Not bad,¡± he replies. I half-expect him to hide his phone from me, worried that I am going to see something I won¡¯t like, but then I remember that we¡¯re in this together. That the two of us are doing this as a partnership. And we have nothing to hide from each other.

    ¡°I like the look of her,¡± I remark flirtatiously, nodding to the woman on his screen. He shrugs.

    ¡°Not really my type,¡± he replies.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to play nice with me, remember?¡± I murmur to him, grinning. I grab my phone, sink down on the couch beside him, and start searching for my own next conquest.

    Donnie is in bed, resting up, and it finally feels like our evenings are back to being real adult-time again; not just trying to get enough sleep to deal with being parents the next day. I¡¯ve had a fluttery feeling in my chest all afternoon, thinking about what is going to happen next, thinking about who I¡¯m going to find, itching to grab my phone and start scrolling.

    But now that I am, I take my time, leaning against my husband on the couch, not rushing through all the images in front of me. I¡¯ve been licking my wounds after how badly the night with Steffan went, and while I¡¯m craving an exciting experience, I¡¯m worried that all of them will be that bad. I¡¯m so busy with work and Donnie, and I don¡¯t want to waste my time sitting through another dreadful evening with someone I want to get away from.

    Sean knows the date with Steffan didn¡¯t go particularly well, but he¡¯s assured me it won¡¯t always be like that.

    "You¡¯ll find someone again," he promises me, as he hooks his head over my shoulder and eyes the screen, where I am hovering over the scrolling bar.

    "Maybe it¡¯s just a matter of going outside your comfort zone a bit?" He suggests. I suppose he has a point ¨C maybe the problem before was that I went for men I already knew, about whom I had certain preconceptions. Perhaps it would make more sense for me to strike out a bit to someone new and try something I¡¯ve never thought of before.

    Which is how I find myself sitting in a bar, glancing around, and waiting for the most beautiful Italian man I¡¯ve ever seen.

    Paulo. That¡¯s his name ¨C my second date. Well, soon-to-be, if he actually turns up, of course. I have no idea if he is actually going to arrive anytime soon, and I am beyond nervous to think what I will do if he doesn¡¯t ¨C hell, what I will do if he does.

    After the disastrous date with Steffan, I only looked at men I really wanted. Someone who would really satisfy me. I dedicated at least a half-hour every evening to finding someone with whom I could actually click.

    This time, Sean is at home, looking after Donnie for us. I did ask if he wanted to put together a date for himself, too, but he assured me that he was fine.

    ¡°I think I need a little more time to recover from my last one,¡± he replied, dropping a kiss on my cheek as I lay in bed scrolling through my new matches.

    Eventually, I found someone who jumped out at me. Paulo. An Italian living in London; a good ten years older than me, with hazel eyes, brown curly hair, and a gorgeous, wide smile that jumped out at me the moment I saw it on the app. I couldn¡¯t help but smile back, and when I saw that he had already matched with me, we started launching messages back and forth to get to know each other.

    I was a little slower off the mark this time, not wanting to dive into anything too quickly after the disappointment of my last date. I needed to know that my advances weren¡¯t going to end in another lacklustre date.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    But there¡¯s something different about this guy, something about him that I noticed at once. He took control of the conversation on the app, guided it in a way that I liked. It was a calm, cool attitude to have, and it had me a little hypnotised.

    So when he suggested that the two of us meet for dinner and drinks in Colchester ¨C far enough out of London that neither of us will run into anyone we know ¨C I was helpless to resist. I agreed at once, put on my nicest dress, slipped on a pair of high heels, and went to meet him at the bar that he¡¯d picked out for us.

    As soon as I saw the place, I started to relax. It is nothing close to the place that Steffan brought me to ¨C it has real atmosphere, soft music, dim lights, and is clearly a good first-date spot. A few couples are sitting around me right now, leaning in close to each other, voices low, as though they are speaking to each other and each other alone¡­

    And then, I lift my head, and I see him. My breath catches in my throat. He is even more gorgeous than his pictures made him out to be. And I know, in this instant, that I am not going to be able to resist doing whatever this man asks me to.

    I rise to my feet to greet him, and Paulo leans down to plant a kiss on my cheek. He is a few inches taller than me, smells of expensive aftershave, and his face is smattered with distinguished-looking designer stubble. He takes a seat, his eyes lingering on me.

    ¡°You are more beautiful than I thought you would be.¡±

    I feel a heat on my cheeks as he waves over the bartender to get us both a drink. He doesn¡¯t ask what I want, just orders for the two of us. I watch him as he does so. He moves with confidence, just the way I thought he would, as though he might as well own this place.

    And everyone in it.

    He hands me the cocktail that he has picked out for us, and I take a sip. It tastes perfect, the sharp, cherry flavour spreading over my tongue.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to finally meet you in person,¡± he says. I smile and nod.

    ¡°Yeah, same with you,¡± I blurt out. ¡°My last date on this thing was just awful, so boring, so I wasn¡¯t sure about doing it again, but then I was talking to you and I just¡­¡±

    I realise that I am blabbering. I need to calm myself down. I am not sure what it is about him, but I feel the need to perform, to step up my game and make sure he knows I¡¯m into this. He sits there, not stopping me, just letting me go on, as though he¡¯s enjoying the way I¡¯m pouring myself out to him.

    ¡°Anyway, yeah,¡± I finish up. I take another sip of the drink, hoping that it¡¯s going to shut me up for now. ¡°What about you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been on the app since I moved to London,¡± he explains. He hasn¡¯t said much about his own spouse, but I figure that he wants to keep them out of it. And honestly, the thought of having all his attention aimed at me for the night is what I want.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good way for me to explore some of my more specific interests,¡± he says, and his eyes lower to my lips for just the briefest of moments. I can actually feel myself getting a little tingly between the thighs, and I cross my legs.

    ¡°Come, let¡¯s go to our table,¡± he says. He rises to his feet again and places his hand on the small of my back as he steers me towards the spot where we¡¯ll be eating dinner. Just the merest touch like that, it feels like he is burning into my skin, right through my clothes. Does he know the kind of effect he has on me? Does he have it on all women?

    I get the feeling he does. He orders for us again. I don¡¯t mind. Normally, I like things just so, but there¡¯s something to be said for letting someone else call the shots for a while ¨C not what I¡¯m used to, but fun for the night. I smile as I listen to him talk, the Italian names of the dishes rolling off his tongue with ease. I wonder what else he can do with it¡­

    The food is delicious, and he tells me about his travels around Europe as we eat. We share a passion for travel, so the conversation flows easily. I notice that, just like he did on the app, he is guiding it ¨C not pushy, not forcing, but carefully levelling the flow of conversation. It¡¯s almost a marvel to see it happening right there in front of me, the confidence with which he speaks, as though it¡¯s a skill he¡¯s been perfecting for years.

    We finish the bottle of wine between us, and I am not sure whether it¡¯s his attention or his confidence or something else entirely, but I know that I need him. I haven¡¯t been able to take my eyes off his hands this entire time, and I can already imagine how good they¡¯ll feel doing everything that I need them to do.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to take you back to my hotel,¡± he murmurs as he slips an arm around my waist. He is giving me every chance to change my mind, but I feel like he has hypnotised me. There¡¯s something about his control and power that is so alluring, that I can¡¯t deny, and I have to find out how it extends to the bedroom.

    ¡°I¡¯d love that,¡± I breathe back. He catches my chin in his hand and holds me steady as he kisses me for the first time. Right there, in front of the restaurant, not caring a bit if anyone sees us. The soles of my feet are tingling, and my body arches towards his, unable to deny the near-painful chemistry between us. This is happening. It¡¯s really happening. I can hardly believe it, but I¡¯m about to have sex with someone other than my husband.

 Chapter 8

    We kiss in the taxi all the way to his fancy hotel, where he opens the door for me and offers me a hand. I feel like I am someone else, some Victorian lady being swept off by a gentleman, and I am loving every moment of it.

    He guides me upstairs, his hand once again resting on the small of my back, steering me. I can¡¯t resist him. The taste of his tongue, of the wine, is dancing in my mouth, and it feels like he has set my entire body on fire. He knows just how to touch me, and he''s barely gone below my waist yet. How crazy is it going to be when he gets me naked¡­?

    Upstairs, he pushes me against the door and kisses me again; not rough, but just enough to let me know that he is the one in charge and that I am going to do whatever he says.

    As if I would argue.

    He brushes his lips down my neck, baring his teeth against my skin for just a moment, and I close my eyes and moan softly. It feels like I am turning to pure liquid in his hands. He knows what he¡¯s doing, knows where he¡¯s taking this, and I am going to let him have me any way that he wants¡­

    His hand slips between my legs and he grazes his fingers over the front of my underwear. The barest hint of his touch makes my entire body start, and I sink my teeth into my lip. I don¡¯t know how much more of this holding out I can take.

    ¡°I want you to play a game with me,¡± he says abruptly. It takes me a moment for my brain to make sense of what he¡¯s saying.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I breathe back.

    ¡°Roleplay,¡± he explains, his mouth finding mine once more for a deeper kiss.

    ¡°As what?¡± I haven¡¯t done much of that in my life, but the thought of it intrigues me. Especially with him. I could see it being seriously fun.

    ¡°My slave girl,¡± he purrs. ¡°I¡¯m a Roman invader, and you¡¯re some little English slave just waiting for me to use her.¡±

    I feel a flush of want in my body. I¡¯ve never done anything like this before, but the thought of it ¨C of being taken control of by him ¨C makes perfect sense to me right now, and there¡¯s no way that I¡¯m going to pass it up.

    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± I ask.

    In response, he pushes me to my knees. ¡°Stay there,¡± he orders, and he steps behind me to get something. My heart begins to race. I can¡¯t believe that I am doing this, but there¡¯s no way that I am going to stop now.

    A moment later, he steps in front of me again. I realise that he is holding some sort of prop sword. I almost laugh, until he grins at me and lowers it down to my throat.

    ¡°Open your mouth, slave girl,¡± he orders me, and I part my lips at once. With his other hand, he unzips his pants and unleashes the biggest cock that I have ever seen.

    My eyes widen as soon as I see it. How big is it? Ten inches? Easily. And as thick around as my fist. It¡¯s going to be hard to take in my mouth, but there is no way I am going to let him down.

    I open my mouth wide, as he ordered. A moment later, he pushes his cock past my lips. The feeling of it so rudely opening me like that sends a flood of want through my entire body, and he lets the sword drop to his side for a moment as he allows me to swirl my tongue around his head. I close my eyes and feel the cup of his hand on my chin again.

    ¡°Look at me,¡± he orders. I manage to open my eyes and can tell from the way he¡¯s looking at me that he knows he has complete control over me. He thrusts his hips forward, burying his cock a little farther into my mouth. I know there¡¯s no way I¡¯m going to be able to take all of him at once, but I am going to do my very best to try.

    ¡°Hands behind your back,¡± he orders, and I link them behind me. It¡¯s so easy to just go along with this, to let him take control. My mind already feels as though it is starting to go blank, making space for everything he wants.

    ¡°Good slave,¡± he growls. He grasps my hair to hold me steady as he thrusts in again, using my mouth as a hole, slipping in and out as far as I can take it, like I¡¯m nothing more than a receptacle for him to use.

    And I love it.

    I feel myself sinking into the role that he wants me to play, becoming the slave girl he owns, and it¡¯s like everything else has just vanished from my mind ¨C everything else, gone, unimportant. How can anything matter when he feels so good inside me? I do my best to keep my eyes open and look up at him like he told me to, but they¡¯re starting to water and I am not sure how much longer I am going to be able to keep this up.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Suddenly, he pulls back and drops his balls into my open mouth. I swirl my tongue around them on instinct, not even having to ask, as he strokes himself a couple of times.

    ¡°Keep your eyes on me, slave,¡± he orders. I look up just in time to see his enormous cock spewing thick ropes of seed all over my face. I feel the warmth of it on my skin, and I keep my lips suckled to his balls, waiting for his permission to break loose.

    ¡°Good girl, good girl,¡± he purrs as he finishes spending his load all over my face. Even though I know that this is just play, the intensity of it, the dynamic of control he has over me, is everything I¡¯ve been waiting for. My whole system is given over to this, to the belief of it.

    He wraps his hand around my hair and eases me to my feet ¨C gently enough that I know he isn¡¯t going to hurt me, dominant enough to know he would if he had to. He thrusts me down on the bed, away from him, and pulls my hips up so that my dress falls down my hips. He reaches between my legs and rips off my underwear, tossing them aside.

    ¡°You¡¯re wet from sucking my cock, slave,¡± he tells me, running a hand over the small of my back and making me shiver. ¡°You liked it, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± he corrects me. ¡°Say it again.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± he murmurs. Suddenly, I feel his stubble grazing against my inner thighs, and then, a moment later, his tongue against my pussy.

    The feeling of it being spread to him like this is so intense that it makes my head spin.. The control I have handed over to him has released me from the pressure I would normally feel doing something like this for the first time, and it doesn¡¯t take long until I am writhing against his mouth as his tongue laps at my swollen clit.

    It¡¯s like he¡¯s hungry for me, needy, and no part of me can deny him. I find myself grinding back against him, needing more, begging for more. I need everything that he can give me right now, nothing is going to be enough. My head is starting to cloud with the sheer intensity of the pleasure as he circles his tongue around my clit, one hand on my ass to hold me tight and steady. He pulls me back towards him, and I push my head into the soft hotel pillow, gritting my teeth as his tongue pushes just inside me. I need it to be his cock, but I will take anything that I can get, anything that he¡¯s willing to give me.

    ¡°I want you to cum for me, slave,¡± he orders. I can feel his words as much as I can hear them, his lips tracing them out against my pussy lips. I groan, and he thrusts his tongue back inside me again, his fingers moving to my clit. A moment later, I feel it hit me.

    The orgasm is so intense that I have to bury my head in the pillow to keep from crying out. My entire lower body trembles for a split second, and I feel each and every nerve-ending inside of me lighting up with the electricity that he¡¯s sending through my system. I can¡¯t resist him, nor do I want to. I need more. Words fade to nothing more than useless little blinks inside my head. My pussy pulses as he pulls back at last, inhaling deeply. I hear the rip of a condom and, a moment later, feel his cock pushing inside me.

    I am glad that he made me cum before he fucked me. If he hadn¡¯t, I doubt I would have been able to take his whole length at once. Even now, with my pussy sopping-wet, I can feel myself stretching around him, having to make room to accommodate him. I gasp, and his hand trails down my back, winding into my hair again, gently tugging me back towards him.

    ¡°You¡¯re so wet for me, slave girl,¡± he purrs, and I know that he¡¯s pleased with me. Knowing that I am enough to turn him on, enough to get him off, sends another jolt of want through my system. I have barely come down from the last orgasm that he gave me, but I can already feel another stirring inside me, starting to push me higher and higher.

    He takes me in long, slow strokes, one hand on my ass to hold me in place as he tugs on my hair and pulls me back towards him. The tension in my body, from my scalp to the tips of my toes, is unlike anything I¡¯ve ever felt before. His power over me is allowing the freedom that I need so badly, allowing my body to just let go and give in to the sheer pleasure of his control. Each thrust seems to flow into the next, no break between them, nothing, the sensation mounting up until there is nothing else that I can think of but his hand in my hair, his fingers digging into my ass, that huge cock, pounding me, over and over again, until I feel myself start to rise once more.

    He mounts me, pinning me down to the bed, going even harder, and the pressure of my clit against the duvet is enough to get me over the edge once more. I cry out this time, loud enough that I am sure the whole hotel can hear me. I don¡¯t care. Let them. I want them to know how good this is.

    He holds himself there, deep inside me, and allows my pussy to massage out the orgasm from his enormous cock. A moment later, I feel him twitch, and then the swelling throb of his release as he finishes inside me. He doesn¡¯t move for a moment, not pulling back, not pulling away ¨C not wanting to ruin this.

    And he doesn¡¯t. He holds himself there for a long time, letting me ride out the last few moments of my orgasm before he pulls back. When he¡¯s sure that I¡¯m done, he finally slips out of me and allows me to crash down on the bed.

    ¡°Holy hell,¡± I murmur. I flop down, arms wide, body still trembling. He drops a kiss on the back of my neck, touching my back for a moment before he heads off. I hear the shower running a second later and close my eyes.

    Mmm. So this is what it¡¯s like, having sex with a total stranger? I think I could get used to this. I never would have guessed from the conversations that we¡¯d had before that he was into anything like this. Hell, I never would have guessed that I was into anything like it, either. But now that we have done it, now that I¡¯m here in the afterglow, I can¡¯t stop thinking about how fucking good it was.

    This is the way forward, I decide. This is how I want to continue things on the app. It¡¯s no good going after men that I know, men who I¡¯m going to have expectations about. I need to start with new men. I need to find people who are into stuff that I¡¯ve never even heard of before and just see how it plays out. No judgement, just amazing, out-there sex.

    As I lie there in the soft comfort of my multiple orgasms, I can¡¯t help but smile. I am re-invigorated, full of verve for the app again. And I can¡¯t wait to see who ¨C and what ¨C I find next.

 Chapter 9

    On the train home, I find myself going through the app again, before I¡¯ve so much had a chance to recover from the thrilling night just behind me. I want more ¨C and I know that the only way I¡¯m going to make it through the next few weeks is if I have something to look forward to.

    I feel, at the back of my mind, a small twinge of guilt that I am doing this without Sean ¨C after all, we said we were going to do this together, and here I am, looking for my next hookup with hardly a thought about him. But I am already hungry to find someone fresh, and I don¡¯t want to miss someone interesting while I have a little time to spare.

    I don¡¯t know exactly what I want to try next, but I know it¡¯s going to be different. A totally new experience compared to everything I¡¯ve done before. There¡¯s so much out there, so much I want to try. I hardly even know where to start, but I figure that the matches I have on here will guide me in the right direction.

    Hmm. Most of the guys who have responded to me seem nice enough, but none of them are really catching my interest. I need someone who¡¯s going to make me light up just looking at him. A lot of these men are cute, for sure, but I¡¯ve had cute guys. I want something new...

    Suddenly, a notification pops up on my phone ¨C someone has just matched with me. I click on it at once, biting my lip and trying to hide my smile of excitement.

    I think I remember swiping on this guy, Jake ¨C he''s a little older than me, judging by his picture, with sharp grey eyes and striking features. But that wasn¡¯t the only reason I said yes to him. In his profile, he mentioned he was looking for someone to introduce to the world of bondage. At the time, it had interested me; now, after Paulo, it is very intriguing.

    Once I¡¯m home, I take a quick shower, then get in bed and have a proper look at Jake¡¯s profile. On it, he states he¡¯s looking for people curious about BDSM, especially bondage, newbies who are interested in exploring the submissive sides of themselves for the first time. By the way he writes, I assume he knows a lot about this world, and the commanding tone that comes through in every sentence is enough to make my toes curl. I hover my finger over the button that would allow me to send him a message, but before I can, one from him pops up.

    Evening, he writes.

    Hi¡­

    He doesn¡¯t beat around the bush. So¡­ you want to be dominated?

    I hesitate for only a fraction of a second. Yes, I respond.

    Good, comes his reply. That¡¯s my good girl.

    Immediately, I¡¯m wet. Immediately, my whole body is warm and vibrating. Yes, I think to myself. This is what I want.

    "Found someone new?¡± I look up and see Sean standing in the doorway to the bedroom, an eyebrow cocked. For some reason, I feel a flutter of irritation, like he has disturbed me while doing something very important. He comes into the room and leans over to give me a kiss on the forehead.

    "Yeah,¡± I say, dodging away from his kiss. After the night with Paulo, I don¡¯t want to be touched by anyone else. It feels polluting, after the ecstasy I experienced. Sean frowns, but he doesn¡¯t say anything about my head dodge. I turn back to my phone.

    How do I become your good girl? I ask Jake.

    Sean tries to sound friendly as he asks, ¡°So who is it?¡±

    You give yourself to me, Jake writes back. I want to see the look on your face when you are entirely in my control. When you realise you can actually let go. Have you done that before?

    No, I reply.

    ¡°Jazz?¡± Sean¡¯s voice is grating, and I glance up at him. Meanwhile, more texts are coming in from Jake: I¡¯ve been in the scene for years, and I love working with ¡®virgins¡¯. I love being the first one to give them that feeling of total surrender.

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    ¡°Just some guy,¡± I choke out.

    ¡°Just some guy? C¡¯mon, Jazz, you can give me more than that.¡±

    ¡°I thought we agreed not to go into details,¡± I snap. I just want Sean out of the room, so that I can continue talking to Jake undisturbed. ¡°That ruins it, if we know too much and get jealous.¡±

    ¡°So it would make me jealous?¡± To my annoyance, Sean sounds worried.

    ¡°No, of course not. I¡¯m just sticking to our rules.¡±

    Sean sighs. ¡°Alright¡­ I just like knowing a bit, you know? Otherwise I feel like you have this whole life I¡¯m missing out on.¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s why this is good for us,¡± I point out. ¡°It gives us our own lives.¡±

    A text comes in from Jake. If you¡¯re going to be mine, I expect you to reply right away. My stomach swoops, and I feel a clenching in my lower belly. God, I want this man already.

    Meanwhile, Sean is still talking to me. ¡°I thought it might be nice to be intimate tonight.¡± His voice sounds as if it is coming from very far away, and I barely glance up. I¡¯m absorbed completely in Jake.

    I¡¯m sorry, I write back to Jake.

    Make it up to me, he responds.

    How?

    Get one of your lipsticks. Write the letter J on your breast. Then send me a picture of your tits.

    ¡°I¡¯m not in the mood,¡± I say to Sean, as I push back the covers and practically spring from the bed. I¡¯m so eager to get to the bathroom and take this picture for Jake that I don¡¯t even care about the disappointed look on Sean¡¯s face. ¡°Not tonight.¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Sean says as I push past him. ¡°It¡¯s been a while, though. I think it¡¯s important we prioritise our relationship, if we¡¯re going to be sleeping with other people. Don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I¡¯m fiddling in my purse, looking for a lipstick. Finally, my fingers find it. I wrap it in my fist and pull it out, my back still turned to Sean so he can¡¯t see. ¡°Oh, yeah, sure.¡±

    Without turning around, I slip into the bathroom and lock it behind me. Then I pull my pyjama top open and focus on the mirror. It¡¯s hard to remember which way to write the J with everything flipped in the mirror.

    ¡°Jazz?¡± Sean knocks on the door. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± I shout back, but my voice sounds strained and too high, even to me. Sean lingers outside the door for a few moments, and I wait, holding my breath. Finally, he moves away, and I hear him close the bedroom door as he leaves.

    Finally, I think, as I raise the lipstick to my chest.

    At the same time, my phone pings. It¡¯s from Jake. Now, slut.

    Over the next few days, Jake and I continue to talk. It¡¯s hard to focus on anything other than him, and I can feel Sean worrying about me. But I¡¯m too turned on and delirious with lust to care.

    I know that plenty of girls would think Jake¡¯s a creep, wanting to take someone¡¯s bondage virginity like that, but honestly, I can¡¯t think of anything better. As Jake and I talk more, I learn more about him, and it¡¯s clear he¡¯s an expert in the ¡®scene,¡¯ as he calls it. If I am to do this, after all, I want to do it with someone who knows what they¡¯re doing. And he seems to have a deep understanding of just what he wants and how to make sure I get what I want, too.

    He¡¯s all the way up in Leicester, and I know it¡¯s going to take a lot of commitment on my part to get there if I really want to do this. But at the same time¡­ am I going to get a better chance to find out what BDSM entails? I can¡¯t be the only woman out there who¡¯s interested in this stuff, and dithering over it is only going to give someone else a chance to get in before me.

    Finally, after a week or so of conversation, I find myself agreeing to come visit Jake down at his fun little torture chamber across the country. I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m actually doing this, but the raging desire inside of me, and a healthy amount of curiosity, wins out.

    Once Jake knows that I am going to visit him, he starts passing on everything I need to know in order to do this all safely and smoothly ¨C the bindings I can expect him to use, the safeword I can say if it all gets too much for me, the protection he¡¯s going to use to keep us both safe. Even though he¡¯s all business, it still gets me hot and bothered, as I imagine how much fun it¡¯s going to be when I actually get down there once and for all.

    If there¡¯s anything you can¡¯t handle, you let me know, he tells me, and I know he¡¯s not kidding here. He takes this seriously, and he wants me to enjoy it as much as he does.

    I think I¡¯ll be able to handle it, I reply.

    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s safe to go so far to see a stranger?¡± Sean asks, when I tell him I¡¯ll be going to Leicester. ¡°You don¡¯t know anyone there who can help you, if things go bad.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no different than seeing someone in London,¡± I say, brushing him off. ¡°If one of my dates wants to kidnap and kill me, it¡¯s not like they¡¯re going to give me time to phone you, anyway, and have you come to my rescue.¡±

    Somehow, this doesn¡¯t seem to reassure Sean.

 Chapter 10

    I make the two-and-a-half hour drive to his city, and the whole time, I am buzzing. Sean has made sure that I am going to text him when I get there and when I leave ¨C he seems concerned by the whole thing, not sure why I would go so far just for one date. I haven¡¯t told him about the BDSM, of course. But even if I had, I don¡¯t think he¡¯d understand. But he doesn¡¯t have to. This is my journey of self-discovery, not his.

    I arrive at the address Jake has given me, pulling the car to a halt outside a heavy steel door. This place looks serious. Jake¡¯s been using it, he told me, for about a year now. It¡¯s discreet. and we won¡¯t get interrupted.

    I hesitate for a moment before I get out of the car. Am I really going to do this? It¡¯s crazy, but I know that I have to ¨C know that I will never forgive myself if I back out now. Besides, Jake has made it clear that I can stop at any point, if it gets too much for me, and I am beyond grateful for that. I slip out of the car, go to the door ¨C and before I can so much as knock, it opens before me, revealing a man dressed in an outfit that makes my jaw drop.

    He is around six feet tall, wrapped from head to toe in a black latex gimp suit that covers most of his face. His eyes, though, tell me everything that I need to know ¨C those piercing greys, the ones that I saw in that profile that drew me here in the first place. It¡¯s Jake.

    He gestures for me to come in, and I do as I¡¯m told. It¡¯s like I¡¯m already under some sort of spell, unable to do anything but go along with what he asks. The door clangs shut behind me, and I feel a fizz of fear and excitement inside of me. The fact that Jake is covered, and I am so exposed, adds another layer to this, another powerplay that makes my heart-rate pick up in my chest.

    Deeper inside the dungeon, it looks just like it did in the pictures ¨C decked out in gorgeous deep reds and blacks, lined on the walls with whips and other toys that look as though they were made especially to scare me into the best kind of submission.

    Jake walks slowly around the front of a pair of heavy, old-fashioned stocks, lifts the top wooden slat, and points at the exposed gaps.

    "Arms here," he orders me, and I do as I am told at once; already, I can¡¯t do anything but obey. He drops the top slat down, pinning my arms in place, and I flex my fingers nervously. I can¡¯t really move much, but I suppose that¡¯s at least some of the point.

    He moves behind me, and I try to crane my neck around to watch him, but I can¡¯t. I am distinctly aware of the dress that I am wearing, a little black number ¨C the one he told me to wear after I sent him options ¨C and how dangerously far it is riding up my body. If I shift another inch in my kitten heels, my whole arse is going to be exposed to this man I hardly know. It should scare me, but it doesn¡¯t...

    I can hear him moving around behind me, and I wriggle impatiently in my stocks, waiting for him to make a move. How long is he going to make me wait? Is this part of the ordeal, waiting for him to decide what to do with me?

    Suddenly, I feel his hands on my hips, shoving the dress up over my thighs so that I am exposed; he reaches for my underwear and pulls them down roughly, then moves his hand between my thighs to spread them. I can feel my cheeks burning with excitement and humiliation in equal measure. I am totally on display for this man. I am distinctly aware of how vulnerable I am, but it doesn¡¯t scare me ¨C well, maybe just a little, but in a good way.

    "Count these out loud for me," he orders me, and he brings down what feels like a large, flat paddle onto my left cheek. I cry out, in surprise more than at the pain, and for a moment, I forget what he had asked of me.

    "Count," he repeats, and once I have gathered myself, I manage to.

    "One," I blurt out. I brace myself for the next one, and it lands on my other cheek, a little harder this time. The sound of the paddle smacking into my skin makes me jump, but not as much as the shock of pain does. The adrenalin that¡¯s been pumping through me since the moment I arrived is helping to numb it, but something tells me that Jake wants it to hurt, at least a little.

    "Two," I finally manage, and I squeeze my eyes shut as he brings the paddle down again, once, twice, on each cheek. I can feel my skin starting to warm, the pain sending shockwaves through my whole body. But, as I count them out loud for him, I can feel something else in me, too. Something supplicant, something willing. Something relieved that, for the time, I don¡¯t have to call the shots.

    And it¡¯s more than that, too. I feel strong. Strong enough to take this.

    Jake takes his time with my spanking, making sure that I feel each and every one, until I am shivering with tension. The pain seems to morph into something else as he strikes me ¨C something about being restrained like this, forced to focus on nothing but the physical sensation, makes me hyper-aware of the wetness of my pussy. I want him to touch me there, I realise.

    But he holds back, as though distinctly aware of just how desperate I am. That is the power part of this, I suppose. The more I want it, the more confident he becomes; the more dominant.

    By the time that he stops, I am hungry with desire - but he¡¯s not going to let me get it that easily. All at once, I feel the thick, rough fabric of a bag being pulled over my head, and I can¡¯t see a thing; his hand moves under my dress, and he undoes my bra and yanks it off so that my nipples are exposed. The cool air against my skin is a shock, but not as much of a shock as the feeling of the nipple clamps he soon attaches to my swollen breasts.

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    "Fuck!¡± I exclaim. The metal bites into my sensitive skin, almost too painful for me to handle, and I consider using the safeword that he gave to me ¨C but a moment later, the electric shock of pain runs down my belly and between my legs, and I know I can take it.

    He pulls the stocks away from me. I want to stretch my arms over my head, but he catches them before I can even move. Every tiny motion I make seems to be dictated by him, and I know that this is just how he wants me. My ass is glowing with pain as he pulls me across the room; I stumble, unable to see where I¡¯m going, but he doesn¡¯t pay attention.

    He pushes me down, hand on the middle of my back, and I feel something attach to my thighs ¨C something hard, metal, something that pulls them apart so that I can¡¯t clamp my legs together even if I tried. I am utterly on display for him, and I can¡¯t even look at him. His hand sinks appreciatively into my ass. He squeezes roughly, and I let out a squeal of pain.

    I know that I can stop this whenever I want, but, as I listen to the zipper of his fly, I find myself arching my back so that he can push inside of me.

    A moment later, I feel his sheathed cock press at the entrance to my pussy, and I let out a groan inside the bag as he moves inside me for the first time. His hands grope at my reddened backside and swollen nipples, tugging on the clamps so that I squirm helplessly. The throbbing pain of the metal biting into my skin begins to blend with the feel of his cock moving inside of me, fucking me as though he has little regard for anything but how good he can make himself feel. I am utterly at his mercy, and I close my eyes and do my best to let that be all that matters right now.

    I can feel my thighs starting to tremble, and normally, I would squeeze them shut around him until I came, but I can¡¯t. He seems to notice the way I am reacting to him, and he starts driving into me harder, cranking whatever device it is he has my legs in, spreading me even wider so that he has access to my wide-open pussy. The sensation teeters on the edge of pain, my lips spread wide to accommodate his impressive cock, as he gropes at my tits again, squeezing the nipple clamps a little tighter. I am sure they will leave marks, and the thought thrills me a little ¨C a reminder of the control that he has taken from me.

    He fucks me hard and mercilessly, until I feel his cock starting to throb inside of me. The pressure in my pussy is starting to build, but I get the feeling that he isn¡¯t going to let me release it. This is about him ¨C him taking me, showing me the ropes, quite literally. I can feel that aching deep within me, but I can¡¯t do anything other than try to push back against him. Nothing seems to sate me, and all I can do is hope that he is going to let me finish.

    He slams himself into me one last time, holds himself there for a long moment, and I feel the throbbing of his cock as he fills the condom with his semen. I groan, squeezing my muscles around him, needing more, but unable to get it before he pulls out and snaps the device off my legs. I tense my thighs together, trying to find at least a little something in the way of release, but there is nothing ¨C nothing that I can do other than let him grab me by the back of the neck and pull me away from whatever it is he has been fucking me in.

    "You took that well," he tells me, his mouth close enough that I can feel his warm breath. My nipples were still aching beneath the clamps, and my underwear is still half-down my legs. I am a mess, and I know I must look it to match.

    "Come on," he growls, guiding me across the room. I stumble, hardly able to stand up straight, my whole system oversensitized by the powerful pressure between my legs.

    He pushes me down, ducking my head low, and I hear the clinking and clanking of metal ¨C what is he doing to me now? Since he came, I assumed he¡¯d be done with me for the time being, but it seems like he has more in store for me yet.

    I hear the click of a lock, still unable to see anything behind the bag that he has thrust over my head. I try to lift myself, but I bump the top of my skull on some bars. My heart flips ¨C am I locked up?

    "Now, stay here," he tells me. "I¡¯ll come get you when I¡¯m ready. And don¡¯t take that bag off your head ¨C I''ll be watching you on CCTV. You understand?"

    "Yes..." I manage.

    "Good. Now, you stay here, and you think about what you¡¯ve done..."

    And with that, I hear footsteps retreating.

    At first, I try to shift around a little, find a comfortable spot. It feels like everything is digging into me, but I suppose that¡¯s the point. It isn¡¯t meant to be comfortable, it¡¯s meant to feel like a punishment ¨C a punishment for my desires, for what I was so willing to do for this man that I just met.

    And I find myself, soon, following his commands ¨C thinking about what I¡¯ve done. I still can¡¯t believe that I managed to get myself into this, but now that I have¡­ I¡¯m sure that it¡¯s for me. Intense? Yes. But it¡¯s frustrating, too, not being able to see or touch or taste, nothing on my own terms. It¡¯s fun for a one-off, but I can¡¯t see myself wanting to come back and do this over and over again.

    Eventually, feeling bold, I reach up to tug the hood off my head and let it fall to the ground ¨C I have no idea if he is still watching me or if he has grown bored of it by now. I want to see where I am.

    And, when I do, I almost laugh at how crazy it is. It looks like a cage, meant for a large dog, the bars thin and strong and the lock heavy and screwed tight shut. On the floor, at my feet, is a small bowl filled with water ¨C clearly, my only sustenance as long as I am in here. I shift back and forth, trying to get my bearings, and glance around, looking for the camera. Does he enjoy seeing me like this? Probably...

    Now that I am coming down from the crazy adrenaline rush, I am starting to figure out that this just isn¡¯t for me. Bondage is¡­ interesting. And I¡¯m glad that I could give Jake another story of a bondage virgin to boast about. But, as I sit there on the floor of the cage, I mostly wonder how much longer it will be before he lets me out and I can get back to my own bed again. For the first time in a while, I want to snuggle up next to my husband and tell him everything that has happened, so that we can laugh about it together. Hell, maybe he¡¯ll get ideas about locking me up in a dog cage to keep me out of his way when I am pissing him off...

    But for now, I know I¡¯m satisfied with everything I¡¯ve seen. I¡¯ve managed to scratch the itch for more dominance, and now I am over it. That doesn¡¯t mean my exploration of my sexuality is done with ¨C there is a lot more for me to explore yet, and I intend to take every chance I can to do just that.

    Just as soon as I got out of this dog cage.

 Chapter 11

    After the experience in the dungeon, I feel strangely high. Like I¡¯ve discovered a power inside myself that I never knew existed before. It¡¯s like how those kids in YA fantasy novels must feel when they find out they¡¯re secretly a wizard or the chosen one or whatever. There¡¯s this power that has been inside of me this whole time, but I never knew how to access it. Now I do. And it makes me feel like I could do anything.

    It¡¯s probably counterintuitive, the fact that submitting to someone like that has made me feel strong. But there¡¯s something about surrendering that is powerful. So few people can go that far. Most people have too many boundaries to let themselves be that vulnerable. And when you are able to go that far, it makes you realise you can do just about anything.

    Which is why I¡¯m having a hard time dealing with my boss, Julie, the next few days. Every little thing she criticises me for makes me want to call her out on the spot. I can¡¯t do that, otherwise I¡¯ll lose my job. But where I used to just take things from her lying down, I now want to fight back. It¡¯s a strange feeling. Not that I haven¡¯t wanted to spring through the screen and slap her before. But before, the urge was fuelled by a feeling of powerlessness. Now, it¡¯s fuelled by the urge to show her just how powerful I really am.

    ¡°I just don¡¯t see what the issue is,¡± she sighs to me, over a video call with everyone else on our team, four days after my encounter with Jake. ¡°Can¡¯t you get this done in time?¡±

    I take my time before responding, and let out a long, artificial sigh. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head as she watches me. Then I smile lazily. ¡°It¡¯ll get done,¡± I say at last.

    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that,¡± she seethes. ¡°It¡¯s not like you usually do.¡±

    This is so blatantly unfair that for a moment, my confidence wavers. ¡°Julie, you¡¯ve assigned me the work of two people this week,¡± I begin, trying to keep my voice calm. Remember, be powerful, not desperate, I tell myself. But she cuts me off.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear any excuses, Jazz.¡±

    She then moves on to another subject, leaving me with my mouth hanging open and my ears buzzing with rage.

    After the call, I feel a wave of hopelessness swell through me. Julie is never going to change. She¡¯s one of those people who has climbed the corporate ladder by being an arse to everyone. Perhaps I should think about starting over somewhere new. The Weekend Club has given me confidence, and the urge to push forward where I might once have been happy just sitting back and letting it happen. I¡¯ve got enough experience now. I¡¯m sure I could break away from this company and do something on my own terms¡­

    Or maybe I should fight back harder against Julie. Show her who she¡¯s fucking with. I remember how I felt being dominated ¨C like I had the strength to take it ¨C and I feel another surge of power through my whole body.

    But it doesn¡¯t last long. As the day continues, I feel all the fight seeping out of me. I just don¡¯t have what it takes to be mean to people to get what I want.

    ¡°Come on, why don¡¯t we take a look at our matches?¡± Sean urges me that evening, draping an arm around me and pulling me close. He can tell I¡¯ve been down all day, and I know he¡¯s just trying to cheer me up, but I feel like a bottomless pit of despair. ¡°It¡¯ll be fun to do together,¡± he urges. ¡°Since we haven¡¯t been spending much time together¡­¡±

    I know what that means. We haven¡¯t had sex since before Paulo. And he thinks bonding over the Weekend Club will make us closer, like it did after our first dates. I don¡¯t want to deny him a chance to explore more, and have sex with people, since I¡¯m clearly not in the mood ¨C but I just feel empty. Lacklustre. Not sure if I¡¯m even interested in anything.

    But, despite my reservations, I agree to take a look through the matches over a glass of wine. Sean has a stack of matches waiting for him, as he always does; for the first time, this bothers me. Maybe it¡¯s just because I¡¯m in a bad mood already about Julie, and feeling down on myself that I didn¡¯t stand up to her, but it makes me a little jealous. Not jealous of the women he¡¯s going to get with; jealous of him, that he¡¯s such a catch. Clearly I¡¯m not, if I let my own supervisor walk all over me.

    I have a handful of matches, and I scroll through them without a huge amount of interest, all of them blurring together.

    And then, I see him.

    I stop dead in my tracks. I stare at the image in front of me, trying to work out if I am seeing things or if this is actually happening. It¡¯s¡­it¡¯s him. Mark.

    Julie¡¯s husband.

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    I¡¯ve worked with her for long enough, nearly three years now, to be able to recognise her other half from the various Christmas parties we¡¯ve attended together. He¡¯s tall, with dark hair shorn short against his head, and grey eyes. He¡¯s smiling in his profile picture, and I can¡¯t help but smile back. I turn my phone around and show it to Sean.

    ¡°Look who it is.¡±

    ¡°Uh, am I meant to know who¡­?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Julie¡¯s husband,¡± I explain impatiently. ¡°Julie, my boss, Julie?¡±

    ¡°Oh, shit!¡± His eyes widen. He¡¯s listened to me complain about Julie all week, and I can tell that the same thing has flashed through his mind as it has through mine.

    ¡°Are you going to message him?¡± He asks. I chew on my lip for a moment. This could get me into a lot of trouble. A lot of trouble. And yet, the thought of hooking up with the man who is married to the woman who has made my life a nightmare is very, very tempting¡­

    ¡°Yes,¡± I reply, before I can think about it too much.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­¡± Sean begins, but I ignore him as I shoot off a message to Mark. Immediately, my mind races.

    If Mark is on the Weekend Club, Julie must be, too. Does that mean their marriage is on the rocks? The thought makes me smile.

    I leave the message sitting there and wonder if he remembers who I am. He probably does. No doubt he has seen me at enough of those work gatherings that he can remember who I am. I wonder if he¡¯s found me attractive. God, that would just be too delicious to handle, if he¡¯s been wanting me this whole time that his wife has been such a raging bitch to me.

    Honestly, I¡¯m not expecting much in the way of a response back, but when I wake up the next morning, there¡¯s a message from him waiting for me. I hesitate before I click it open. Am I really doing this? I could land in serious trouble if I¡¯m not careful, and the last thing I need right now is to lose my job. But then¡­

    Hi, the message reads. Don¡¯t I know you from somewhere¡­?

    We met at a work event last Christmas, I respond.

    We work together??

    No. I smile as I type out the text. I work with your wife.

    I see the bubbles of a response, then nothing, and for a moment, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve scared him off. Then his reply comes.

    Ahh yes. Jazz. I remember you. The hot one in the office.

    My stomach curls at this description of me, and I feel the now-familiar surge of excitement.

    Does Julie call me that? I ask, teasingly.

    Haha, he responds. No. But one time I did, and she did not like it.

    The rush this gives me is similar to the rush of being dominated. It¡¯s not about Mark, or my attraction to him: it¡¯s about feeling powerful. And this time, powerful over Julie.

    Not to make a bad joke, but I¡¯d let you audit me anytime, Mark continues, and I laugh out loud.

    Oh yeah? Have you been a bad boy this year on your tax return?

    Hahaha.

    The messages continue like this all night and into the next morning, us exchanging light banter and skirting around the issue of whether or not I¡¯m going to meet up with my boss¡¯s husband, he with his wife¡¯s employee. We don¡¯t discuss it, but it¡¯s always there: a sexy and ever-increasing question.

    Mark and I are in the middle of texting the next afternoon when I get a ping for a meeting with Julie. Feeling particularly euphoric, I log onto Zoom just as Julie is addressing the other employees in the meeting. She glares at me the moment my face becomes visible.

    ¡°Late again?¡± She demands, not even bothering to greet me. It¡¯s been less than a minute since the meeting began, and I frown.

    ¡°I¡¯m on ti¨C¡±

    ¡°Well, Jazz, perhaps if you had better time management skills, you might get to be a Managing Accountant like me some day,¡± she snaps. ¡°But it looks like you¡¯re going to be staying right there. On the bottom.¡±

    Even some of my coworkers, who are usually so good at remaining politely indifferent, look shocked at Julie¡¯s words. I want to respond seethingly, to put this bitch in her place, but I am in shock, temporarily at a loss for words. So instead, I go mute, and barely register anything she says for the rest of the meeting. It¡¯s only after I log off that the fury comes. White hot rage.

    My hands shaking, I reach for my phone.

    Let¡¯s meet, I text Mark. I know it might be a bad idea, but I don¡¯t care anymore. I want to make Julie suffer. I want to fuck her husband. I want to feel power over her, for once. I want to fuck your brains out, I add, in case Mark didn¡¯t get it.

    When and where, he replies, and I grin. Seems like he¡¯s as keen to get rid of his wife as I am.

    "I really don¡¯t think it¡¯s the best idea," Sean tells me that night at dinner.

    "Look, if I¡¯m going to keep working there, I need to have something I can do to make myself feel better," I tell him as I fork salad into my mouth. "Julie needs to be put in her place. Even just if it¡¯s in my head, okay?"

    He still doesn¡¯t look convinced.

    "You should really take some time to think about this," he warns. ¡°It could affect your job. Our livelihood. Donnie¡¯s future.¡±

    ¡°Maybe if I get fired you¡¯ll have to get a job,¡± I snap.

    It¡¯s a low blow, and he stiffens at once. Before I can apologise, he turns and leaves the room, leaving me to brood.

    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault he¡¯s unemployed,¡± I mutter aloud to the room. ¡°He¡¯s had months to find a new job.¡±

    Still, I¡¯m feeling guilty and a little unsure of myself as I get ready for the date with Mark. I might be making a huge mistake. But I remind myself that the whole point of the Weekend Club is to be discreet. Julie isn¡¯t going to find out.

 Chapter 12

    Mark and I plan a meeting outside of the city, not wanting to run into anyone that we might know from work. Of course, I can¡¯t rule out that Julie knows everything ¨C but for now, I want to play the deviant, the cheat, and so does her husband, I¡¯d bet. I¡¯m going to fulfil that role in any way that I can.

    I take my time getting ready, brushing out my hair and curling it so it falls in perfect waves over my shoulders, and dressing in a skintight black dress that clings to every inch of me. I slick on a dark lipstick in the mirror and pout, feeling every inch the seductive vamp that I know I need to be in order to seduce this man.

    ¡°You have a good time, alright?¡± Sean tells me, dropping a kiss on the top of my head before I make my way to the door. Even though his kisses have become repugnant to me, I don¡¯t dodge away. It¡¯s part of our silent agreement, since the fight: to be polite to each other, if not overly affectionate. We haven¡¯t made love since before Paulo, but at least he has a date tonight, too. So he¡¯ll be getting some, and will leave me alone. ¡°Don¡¯t get yourself fired,¡± he adds.

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I promise him, but he doesn¡¯t look convinced as he waves goodbye.

    I take a cab to the fancy hotel Mark has booked for us; given how much money Julie makes, I¡¯m not surprised he¡¯s able to afford somewhere so nice. I hope that he¡¯s taking a big chunk of her paycheck to pay for this. I¡¯m going to order everything I can, the most expensive drinks possible. Really show her.

    I sweep through the door to the bar, my heels tapping on the floor below me, and I flick my eyes back and forth until I see him ¨C Mark. He¡¯s wearing an immaculate suit, and he rises to his feet as soon as he sees me.

    ¡°You look gorgeous,¡± he greets me, a far cry from the ¡°you¡¯re late¡± I get from his bitch of a wife on our video calls. He plants a kiss on my cheek, his hand grazing mine, and I shiver, inhaling the scent of the deep, woody aftershave he¡¯s wearing.

    He guides me to a booth at the back of the bar, somewhere discreet where we can get to know each other properly. I can¡¯t believe this is happening ¨C can¡¯t believe I am actually in the process of getting away with this. My heart is thrumming in my chest like crazy, but I try to ignore it. I am going to see this through. I am going to seduce my boss¡¯s husband, and I am going to make sure that she knows ¨C whether or not I choose to tell her ¨C that I¡¯m the one in charge here.

    He orders drinks for us. He somehow knows just what I like, which is a good sign for what¡¯s to come. He¡¯s charming, easy to talk to, and the conversation flows over light topics like travel, movies, books.

    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± I murmur, once I¡¯m a drink or two in and feel some of the nerves start to fall away.

    He nods. ¡°Of course you can.¡±

    ¡°Why did you do this?¡± I ask, gesturing between the two of us. ¡°I mean¡­you must have known that it¡¯s dangerous, right? If your wife finds out it¡¯s me, and everything¡­?¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± he agrees. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s some of the thrill of it, really. Taking someone out she would never in a million years want me anywhere near¡­¡±

    The smile stretches over his face, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. Of all the deviants that I have played with since I started in this game, he might be the one who¡¯s playing the dirtiest game. And it¡¯s turning me on beyond anything I¡¯ve felt before.

    That¡¯s when I know that I¡¯m in trouble. That I can¡¯t back out now.

    ¡°Is she really that bad?¡± I ask him playfully, and he laughs and shakes his head.

    ¡°Not at all,¡± he replies. ¡°I know you see her at work, and I hear how she is, but she¡¯s nothing like that when she¡¯s with me.¡±

    ¡°What, don¡¯t tell me she¡¯s actually nice?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, she actually is.¡±

    I snort and shake my head. ¡°I don¡¯t buy it.¡±

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the face she shows any of you,¡± he admits. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t be married to her if that¡¯s how she treated me.¡±

    ¡°So why would you do this, then?¡± I ask, curious, tipping my head to the side. He shrugs.

    ¡°Because, even when you love your wife, there are still things that are too fun to resist.¡±

    He slips his hand onto my thigh under the table, and desire floods me. In my tipsiness, I reach out to brush my fingers over his cheek.

    ¡°You have a room here, right?¡± I ask, and he nods, a smile spreading over his face.

    ¡°You want to take advantage of it?¡±

    I bite my lip playfully. ¡°You read my mind.¡±

    I rise to my feet, and he puts a hand on my waist to steer me out to the lobby. My body feels hot, and I don¡¯t know how much longer I am going to be able to take this before I have to strip him down and take him all for myself.

    ¡°Jazz?¡±

    My heart stops as I hear a voice that I recognise.

    I turn to see Andy, one of the guys from work, standing next to the desk, his brow slightly furrowed as he looks at the two of us together.

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    Oh, my God. My heart plummets to the floor, and my brain goes completely blank. How the hell am I going to explain this to him? I am dressed up like someone looking to get fucked, Mark¡¯s hand is on my waist, and there is no good reason for us to be in a hotel together like this, outside of the city, with Julie nowhere in sight.

    ¡°Oh, Andy, hi,¡± I reply, playing for as much time as I can. I don¡¯t know what I am going to do to put him off the scent.

    ¡°What are you ¨C oh. Oh!¡± He exclaims, as he figures out who I am with. My stomach drops. No, no, no, this can¡¯t be happening! I could lose my job over this. I have no idea what I am supposed to do, no idea how to control the thrumming panic in my chest right now.

    ¡°Lovely to see you, Andy,¡± Mark replies smoothly. ¡°Have you seen Julie around? We were just looking for her.¡±

    ¡°Uh, no, I haven¡¯t,¡± he replies.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be with your husband,¡± he remarks to me, raising his eyebrows. ¡°Right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± I blurt out. ¡°We ¨C we ¨C ¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re spending a weekend together to deal with some of the¡­ working issues that Jazz and Julie have been dealing with lately,¡± he explains calmly. I have no idea how he is acting like he has any clue what is going on, but I figure he likely came up with a cover story for himself before we got anywhere close to here.

    ¡°Oh, I get it,¡± Andy replies, with a nod, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. ¡°Can¡¯t say I¡¯m too jealous, honestly. No offence, Mark.¡±

    ¡°None taken,¡± he replies. ¡°Come on, Jazz, shall we see if we can find them?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± I agree at once, and I smile at Andy ¨C and wonder if he really bought that. I hope so. If not¡­

    I push that thought to the back of my head. I have to be confident, don¡¯t I? Have to make sure I don¡¯t let my nerves get the better of me. Mark guides me to the elevator, and a moment later, the doors slide shut ¨C and I can¡¯t resist any longer.

    I kiss him. Hard. The kind of kiss that is meant to tell him I am the one in control; I am the one calling the shots here. I tuck my hand behind his head and pull him down to me, pushing my tongue into his mouth before I can think better of any of this. I kiss him like my life depends on it, only coming up for air when the doors slide open and I am worried we might be spotted again.

    ¡°Damn,¡± he mutters, sliding a hand down my waist. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were so¡­¡±

    ¡°Shh,¡± I tell him, pressing a finger to his lips. ¡°Show me where the room is. Now.¡±

    He does as he¡¯s told, and I am tickled to know that I command such complete control over someone who is so closely connected to the woman who¡¯s in charge of me. She has no idea that I have her husband essentially bending to my will right now, and the thought of taking it a step further thrills me.

    We make it into the room, tumbling over the threshold together, and I kiss him again ¨C he tries to slow it down, turn it into something more tender and sensual, but I put a stop to that. I don¡¯t want to make love tonight; I want to fuck.

    I drop to my knees in front of him and rub his cock through his trousers ¨C he¡¯s big, I can tell that already ¨C and then I unzip him and reach forward to guide him into my mouth.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± he groans, and he grasps the back of my head to pull me closer. He fits perfectly in my mouth, not too wide. I feel a thrill between my thighs, knowing that I am doing something so filthy ¨C knowing that I am in the process of sucking Julie¡¯s husband¡¯s cock. And probably doing it better than she ever has, too.

    I bob my head back and forth on his cock, getting it good and coated in my saliva. Then I wrap my fingers around his base and begin to work him up and down, admiring the way his thick shaft slides between my lips like it¡¯s the only place it has ever belonged.

    I shoot a look up at him and find him admiring me appreciatively from where he¡¯s standing. I wonder how this feels for him, knowing that he¡¯s fucking someone whom him wife hates.

    I pull his cock from his mouth after a few moments and catch my breath.

    ¡°Get on the bed,¡± I order him, and he lays back for me. Reaching underneath me, I pull off my underwear, tossing it aside ¨C I know that I want to be on top. Just like Julie said I would never manage to be. She might not know exactly what I am doing to her husband right now, but I know that when I¡¯m next in a meeting with her, I will be able to show her without any doubt just how sure I am of myself.

    I climb onto the bed and rip his shirt open, running my hands over his deliciously bare chest, feeling the pounding of his hard cock beneath my fingertips. I love the way he responds to me, especially as my hands traverse further south and I can feel the erection straining from where my mouth has just been.

    ¡°There are condoms in the nightstand,¡± he says, and I reach over, pull open the top drawer, and pull one out. Ripping it open with my teeth, I smooth it down over his cock, then straddle him again. Planting my hands on his chest, I use them as leverage to lower myself down on top of him, taking my time as I feel him pushing inside of me for the first time.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± I groan, and I rake my nails down his chest as he brings his hands to my hips. I am tempted to brush them off, but I allow him to pull me down on top of him, thrusting into me as though his life depends on it.

    I lift my hips and push them down hard on top of him, swallowing his whole cock into my pussy, loving the way it feels, the pressure of him as he moves inside of me. I fuck him hard, riding him like I have never ridden anyone before, focused on nothing but the selfish claiming of my pleasure over his. He is thrusting up to meet me, driving himself inside of me, but I¡¯m setting the pace. I know that I look good, my little black dress rolled up just far enough that he can see his cock moving inside my pussy, but I don¡¯t care ¨C I just care about getting myself off, using his cock as a toy to make myself finish.

    I am not sure how long I am on top of him, but I don¡¯t care. It¡¯s the complete opposite of the way that I felt when I was with Jake. This is all about seizing my power, after relinquishing it.

    I move down on him hard, pushing my hand between my legs to play with myself as I ride him, knowing that I am going to finish soon. I need to feel the deep, throbbing release and know that I used my boss¡¯s husband to get me there, as though he was nothing more than a human dildo.

    ¡°Oh,¡± I groan, and I spiral my hips this way and that. I can feel the orgasm building inside of me, and I tip my head back, sink my fingertips into his skin, and finally¡­

    When it hits me, it sends shivers down my spine, and I crumple down on top of him, shaking uncontrollably. He holds me steady, continuing to thrust up inside of me until he finds his own release.

    I feel his cock twitch inside of me, and I roll off of him and onto the bed; I can hardly breathe, and my eyes are blurring around the edges as I stare at the ceiling and try to drag myself back down to earth.

    I really did it. I really just did it. Flipping over onto my side, I rest my hand on his stomach.

    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± Marks pants, as he watches my fingers caress him again ¨C and I am sure he knows as well as I do that I am far from done with him.

    By the time that I stagger out of the hotel the next day, into the car that Sean¡¯s called for me to bring me home, I know that my working life is never going to be the same again. No matter how much she might want to, Julie is never going to get the better of me again. Whenever she starts on her snooty shit, I can just remember this night and know that she will never be able to look down on me again.

    Not a chance in hell.

 Chapter 13

    Sure enough, I get my chance to test out my new sense of power on Monday, when Julie and I are both in the same meeting, discussing the audit of a particularly difficult client.

    To my surprise, Julie is in a good mood at the beginning of the meeting. She¡¯s sometimes like this around superiors, but today she even greets me with a chilly ¡°hello¡±, something she doesn¡¯t usually do. It¡¯s a little disconcerting. How could she be feeling so good, knowing her husband was out with another woman over the weekend? Or perhaps it made her appreciate him more, like it did with me, after mine and Sean¡¯s first foray into the Weekend Club.

    Either way, her good mood doesn¡¯t last long. And to my delight, it¡¯s because of me.

    Another supervisor is going over the plan of attack for the client when I find myself disagreeing with him. But instead of staying quiet, like I usually do, I decide to speak up.

    Unmuting myself, I say, ¡°Sorry to interrupt, Steve, but I actually think this particular client needs a softer touch.¡±

    Steve looks surprised by the interruption, and I watch as he squints at his screen, as if trying to read out the name of the person who has spoken.

    ¡°Ahh¡­ Jazz¡­¡± He quickly smoothes the surprise from his face, replacing it with polite curiosity. ¡°Yes, yes, you¡¯ve been working closely with this client, haven¡¯t you? Please, go on.¡± From her Zoom square, I can see Julie¡¯s face beginning to twist with anger.

    I smile and straighten my shoulders. ¡°Thank you, Steve. Yes, as you said, I¡¯ve been working closely with this client, and I feel that they need a gentler approach. They¡¯re getting a bit skittish, and my fear is that that might make them less transparent. More stubborn. Recalcitrant. However, if they think we¡¯re on their side, they might actually be easier to work with.¡±

    Julie unmutes herself. Her voice is sickly sweet. ¡°I¡¯m just going to jump in here. While I appreciate Jazz¡¯s contributions, I really don¡¯t think that she¡¯s qualified to ¨C ¡±

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I interrupt, and it¡¯s hard not to laugh when I see Julie¡¯s eyes nearly bug out of her face. I¡¯ve never interrupted her before, especially in front of other people. ¡°But I¡¯ve made inroads with Mr. Perkins, and I have his ear. I really think I¡¯ve got the sense of things here. And while Julie has been indispensable in her guidance ¨C ¡± I flash her a smile ¡° ¨C she hasn¡¯t been working on the ground level like I have.¡±

    Julie opens her mouth to argue, fury etching her entire face, but Steve speaks first. ¡°That¡¯s a good point, Jazz. You do have invaluable insight into the situation. We¡¯ll take all this into consideration. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.¡±

    ¡°But ¨C ¡± Julie begins, but Steve smiles in the way managers do when they¡¯re being indulgent but want you to stop talking. ¡°Thank you, Julie. Let¡¯s move on for now, shall we?¡±

    For the rest of the meeting, Julie remains quiet. The expression on her face, however, is very easy to read. She¡¯s stewing, biting back the vitriol she wants to throw at me. And once the meeting is adjourned, she¡¯s the first person to log off. Immediately after, she sends me a DM.

    Trying to get noticed for the Accounting Manager position, are you? I know it¡¯s meant to antagonise me, but I just respond with a Thumbs Up emoji, which I know will drive her crazy. Meanwhile, Steve also sends me a message.

    Great work today, Jazz! Love to see you stepping up.

    I lean back in my chair as a wave of adrenaline courses through me. Yes, I am doing great work. I¡¯m confident now, sure of my power and worth, and it¡¯s thanks to fucking to Julie¡¯s husband. It¡¯s all thanks to the Weekend Club.

    Which is what leads me to my next date, with Freddy.

    When I first swipe on Freddy, I am sure it is someone else. Because there is no way Freddy Campbell is on a site like this. I have known Freddy through Samantha, his wife, for years. They are friends from college who moved near us and became our occasional double date partners for Saturday evening drinks ¨C but I would never in a million years have suspected they are involved in something as deviant as the Weekend Club.

    Samantha always seems so innocent to me. But if this experience has taught me one thing, it¡¯s that the people we think we know are rarely the versions of them that exist behind closed doors.

    Not that we are doing this date behind closed doors, of course. But that¡¯s part of the fun. The rush of knowing I¡¯m dating, and going to sleep with, my friend¡¯s husband. That we could get caught.

    "Hey, Jazz."

    I look up, and there he is. God, I¡¯ve never really allowed myself to notice how handsome he is before this moment, but there¡¯s no denying it ¨C the sight of him in front of me, he¡¯s gorgeous. He¡¯s got softer features, long hair that curls down just past his ears, and a deep olive complexion that brings out the flecks of green in his brown eyes beautifully.

    "Hi," I say, and I smile as I stand to give him a hug. I¡¯ve never spent time with him alone before, and something about it feels so wrong yet so right at the same time. I love this. It¡¯s the fizz in my stomach, the sure sign that I am making the right call, that keeps me coming back to the Weekend Club for more. Maybe it¡¯s some sort of addiction, or maybe I am just finally being honest about what I really want: power and control.

    "I couldn¡¯t believe it when I saw you on that app," he remarks, as we both sit down. We¡¯re at a hotel bar, the easiest place to meet up when it comes to stuff like this. We can just slip upstairs if we feel like things are going right, and I get the feeling that they¡¯re going to go just perfectly based on the way he¡¯s looking at me right now.

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    "Me neither," I confess. "I never thought you and Samantha¡­ well. I thought you were more likely to be shocked at something like this than want to get into it yourself."

    "I was, at first," he admits, leaning a little closer, as though sharing top-secret information. "She was the one who came to me with all of it, and I just¡­ Honestly, I didn¡¯t know what to think."

    "How did she convince you?" I ask. Honestly, when it comes to all of this stuff, I just assumed it would mostly be the men pushing to go through with it, but maybe I need to expand my mind a little. After all, I was the one who brought it to Sean.

    "She showed me some of the girls who were on here," he explains, with a shrug. "And I knew that I couldn¡¯t turn down the chance..."

    We get talking, and soon, we¡¯re flying back and forth with our experiences on the app ¨C all the people we¡¯ve hooked up with, all the fun that we¡¯ve had, all the dud dates we¡¯ve been on. I feel like I¡¯m getting to know him better than I ever would have had we just kept things at the state they¡¯d been before. Maybe there¡¯s something to be said for really going for this, huh?

    Soon, we end up back at the hotel room I¡¯ve booked for both of us. We agree that it¡¯s just for another drink, but I am sure that he can tell from the look on my face that I¡¯m craving more. I hardly get the mini-fridge open before I feel his hands gliding over my hips, pulling me back against him, where I can feel the hardness of his cock through his trousers.

    "You look so good," he murmurs, his mouth so close to my neck that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. Oh, he knows just what he¡¯s doing, I can tell ¨C I might have had him and Samantha down as nothing more than a slightly basic but pleasant couple, but he¡¯s clearly more than that. I moan softly and sink against him, letting him know I am ready for this.

    He brushes his lips against my neck, and soon, his mouth is hovering just an inch or so from my ear.

    "Can I ask you something?" He murmurs. The feel of his lips on my skin is enough to make everything else vanish from my mind, and all I can do is nod.

    ¡°Samantha doesn¡¯t like having anyone go down on her,¡± he explains. ¡°She¡¯s too self-conscious for that. I don¡¯t get to eat pussy as much as I¡¯d like, but if you¡¯d let me¡­¡±

    ¡°Eat me pussy,¡± I say, a little breathlessly. ¡°Put your mouth on me.¡±

    His hand moves to the front of my jeans, just above the waistline, and he skims his fingers along them playfully. I know just what he¡¯s saying, just what he¡¯s trying to communicate, and all I can do in return is blurt out a breathless yes.

    He guides me back towards the bed and gently eases me down in front of him ¨C he''s careful with me, but I can see from the look in his eyes that this is going to last a long time. He pulls off my jeans and my underwear, tossing them aside, and he moves to lay between my legs. He plants a kiss on the inside of my thigh and then looks up, watching my reaction as I squirm on the sheets.

    "Mmm," I moan softly, as he kisses further up the crease of my thigh, towards my pussy ¨C but he doesn¡¯t go down on me yet. I squirm helplessly on the bed as he traces a line of kisses around my mound, down the other side, trailing his fingers where his mouth has just been so that the sensation tingles through my whole body.

    I¡¯ve been with guys before who claimed they liked to go down on women, but the pace he¡¯s going tells me he really means it. Finally, with his eyes on me, he plants his lips against my clit for the first time, and I let out a helpless moan of pleasure as his tongue swirls around my engorged nub.

    My head sinks back onto the pillow, the effort of keeping it up next to impossible, but as soon as I do that, he stops. I look down at him, panting for breath.

    "What...?¡±

    "Keep looking at me," he says, and he moves his mouth back to where I want it. This time, I don¡¯t let my eyes move from his, even though the combination of the sight and the sensation of what he¡¯s doing is almost too much to take.

    Because soon, it starts to build. Slowly. Tantalisingly. He takes his time, moving his tongue in almost agonisingly gentle circles against my clit, and I try to thrust my hips back up to meet him ¨C but he plants his hands on my legs, holding me in place. This is on his terms, and he is going to make it as deliciously, painfully erotic as he can.

    He kisses down, down towards my slit, and gently pushes his tongue inside of me ¨C it''s not as satisfying as his cock spreading me open, but damn, it¡¯s good. With the softest touch, he pinches my clit between his fingers, massaging me as he fucks me with his tongue.

    And his eyes are on me the whole time, making sure that I¡¯m not looking away, making sure that I¡¯m not missing a moment of this. The sight of him, this man who is married to a friend of mine, eating my pussy like it¡¯s the most delicious thing in the world, sends a shockwave of arousal through me, and I groan again. I need more. I want to reach down and thrust his head between my legs, but I know that he would just pull back and make me wait more. This has to be on his terms. And that means playing it by his rules ¨C no matter how painful.

    He moves back to my clit again, pushing his fingers inside me to replace his tongue, and begins to swirl his tongue around my clit once more. The pressure inside me is intense and I know I¡¯m not going to be able to hold out much longer. I don¡¯t want to, either ¨C I want to cum; I want to do it with his mouth between my legs, his eyes fastened on me.

    He seals his lips around my clit and sucks lightly, and the pressure makes my head spin. I¡¯m close, so close I can hardly stand it. He knows what he is doing down there, and the thought that his wife doesn¡¯t get to experience this makes me thrill with power and delight.

    Finally, I feel my thighs tense, and I squeeze them around his head as the orgasm tears through my body. I close my eyes at last, letting myself focus on nothing but the pleasure, and cry out, loud enough that I am sure everyone else in the hotel can hear me. Good, let them ¨C I want everyone to know how good I¡¯m getting it right now.

    He lifts his head from between my legs, and I reach down to pull him on top of me, kissing him hungrily. I can taste myself on his lips but that only turns me on more, the reminder of where he has just been, of how passionately he has just pleasured me.

    ¡°That was amazing,¡± I murmur, and he grins happily.

    ¡°I love how much you love it,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s so different from Samantha.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe she doesn¡¯t like that,¡± I say, shaking my head.

    For a second, a look of anger and hurt flashes across Freddy¡¯s face, and I get the sense that, even though he brought it up, this is a sensitive subject. Or at least a painful one. But instead of letting it go, I dig my fingers in. This is what I wanted, after all: to feel the power.

    I wind my fingers into his hair and bring my mouth to his ear, where I breathe heavily for a moment. ¡°Whose pussy tastes better?¡± I whisper. ¡°Hers, or mine?¡±

    The rumble in his chest, and the twitch of his cock against my thigh, tell me what I want to know, but I still feel a rush of endorphins as he says, without hesitation, ¡°Yours.¡±

    I smile againsts his cheek. This is power.

 Chapter 14

    I wake early the next day, before Sean and Donnie, and decide to slip out to the shops to pick up some stuff for Sunday brunch together. I¡¯ve been neglecting family time recently, even I¡¯ve noticed that, and I know I need to make more of an effort. Thus, the surprise brunch.

    On the way to the shop, I turn up the radio in the car and sing along, letting the cool morning air whip through the window and lighten my mood a little. I feel like I have so much more life in me these days, so much more that I can really indulge myself in. I¡¯m not just stuck bouncing between work and then back to bed and then back to work again. Ihave a whole, thrilling double-life to lead, and there¡¯s so much more for me out there than I ever had imagined just a few months ago. Unfortunately, that does sometimes mean Sean and Donnie don¡¯t get the attention they need, but in the longrun, I know it will be good for our family. If I¡¯m happier, they will be, too.

    I park the car and glance over to make sure I have enough room to get out ¨C and when I spot the car next to me, I furrow my brow and try to remember where I¡¯ve seen it before.

    I am certain that it¡¯s not the first time I¡¯ve laid eyes on it, but it takes me a moment to figure out where I have spotted it before. Maddy¡¯s place? That sounds right. I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s her car, or at least the one she shares with her husband, Ewan. Maddy is the friend who told me about the Weekend Club, and seeing her car, I feel excited to see her her in the shop. We haven¡¯t talked much since she told me about the app, and I haven¡¯t admitted that I¡¯m on it. Maybe I can tell her about my exploits. She might even be jealous.

    Unless she¡¯s already on the app, having exploits of her own. She said she wasn¡¯t on it, but now, I¡¯m not so certain I believe her.

    Most people, it turns out, are naughtier than I realised.

    I gather my bags and head inside, tucking my phone in my pocket in case Sean texts and needs to know where I am. Though I¡¯m sure he¡¯s going to be out for the count for the foreseeable future. I know how he is when he sleeps in, and I doubt I¡¯m going to be able to rouse him for anything.

    I potter around the shop, picking out everything I¡¯m going to need under the bright fluorescent lights, and I realise that, for the first time in forever, I¡¯m not totally stressed being in a place like this. Normally, I would be checking my watch over and over, making sure I wasn¡¯t running late or wasting time, but here and now, I¡¯m just pondering which recipes I can make and how best to make them taste delicious.

    "Jazz?¡±

    I look up, and find myself staring at Ewan ¨C Maddy¡¯s husband. I beam at him warmly. He¡¯s a good foot or so taller than me, with a scruff of dark stubble and kind eyes.

    "Hey," I greet him. "I thought I saw your car outside. How¡¯re you doing?¡±

    We exchange a little polite conversation, then I go on my way to finish up my shop. Or that¡¯s what I think I¡¯m going to do, until I feel my phone buzz in my pocket.

    I reach down to check what it is, thinking Sean is going to be dropping me a message checking to find out where I¡¯ve gotten to ¨C and when I see what is waiting for me, my jaw drops.

    A notification from the Weekend Club app. That there is a new match in my area. And the face attached to it? Unmistakably Ewan.

    I look around, to see if he¡¯s still standing near me, but I can¡¯t see him anywhere. Holy shit, can this be real? I feel like someone is playing a trick on me. I click open the notification, half-expecting it to be someone else there entirely when I do, but it remains Ewan. No doubt that it¡¯s him. His face, his smile.

    "Holy shit," I mutter, and I feel a flutter in my chest. He must have gone on the app right after seeing me and swiped right on me. Has he seen me on here before? Or was this the first time? Was he hoping to find me when he logged on just now? Perhaps Maddy told him I¡¯d been curious about the Weekend Club.

    I swipe right on him before I can stop myself. Maddy is a close friend, but I don¡¯t want to miss out on the chance to bed another one of my friends¡¯ husbands. And the fact Maddy and I are so close makes this even more dangerous and exciting.

    I finish up my shop, and I make it to the till where the woman swipes everything through for me while staring off into space. I don¡¯t blame her. Doing this sort of job can¡¯t be the most stimulating. Without thinking, I dip into my pocket to check my phone...

    And there it is. A message from him, from Ewan, sitting there waiting for me. I bite my lip, shoot my eyes this way and that. I open the message. It¡¯s an invitation ¨C no, an instruction.

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    Meet me outside. In my car.

    "Miss?"

    I look up again, and see that the woman behind the till is watching me with some level of concern in her eyes. I must look batshit. I am totally distracted by the proposition I have just been hit with.

    "Uh, yeah, sorry," I blurt out, and I manage to get my card into the machine and then turn my attention back to my phone. Shit. I am not sure if I am going to get away with this, but I am far too excited to turn down the opportunity. Unless, maybe he just wants to talk¡­?

    I finish bagging up my stuff, toss it in the back of my car, and glance over to the vehicle parked next to me. Sure enough, there he is, waiting for me. I smile at him, and he smiles back, and God, I can feel myself starting to melt a little.

    I head over to join him, trying to remember if we¡¯ve said much more than a couple of sentences to each other before now. He opens the car door, and I glance around to make sure no one is watching us. Even if they are, the back windows of the car are tinted. That helps. After a small hesitation, I switch off my phone and then slip in beside him.

    "Hey," I say. And, as soon as our eyes meet, I know what¡¯s going to happen.

    He reaches over, tucks his hand behind my head, and pulls me towards him. Without any preamble, he begins to kiss me, hard. His tongue is almost instantly in my mouth, and I feel that near-painful heat burning inside of me. It might be risky, but there¡¯s no way that I¡¯m going to pass up the chance for something hot and heavy when all I thought I¡¯d be doing is picking up Sunday brunch.

    I moan against his mouth and his hand shoves up inside my shirt, groping at my breasts under my bra. He isn¡¯t gentle, which I now know I like. And we only have a limited amount of time here before someone works out what we are doing. The last thing I need is to be caught fooling around with someone else¡¯s husband in the car park of my local supermarket.

    I grab his hand and push it under my jeans, between my legs, so he can feel the heat that has already started to grow there. He moves his fingers down to my slit, grazing along the edge for a moment before he pushes them inside. God, this couldn¡¯t be further removed from the encounter I had with Freddy. Freddy was tender, but Ewan is just taking what he wants. And I love it.

    I move into his lap, knowing that, if anyone walks by us, they¡¯re going to catch us right in the act, but I don¡¯t give a damn. I wind my arms around him, gripping the seat, his rough stubble on my face ¨C it¡¯s going to leave a red flush that will tell Sean just what I¡¯ve been up, but I¡¯m too aroused to care.

    "Fuck me," I breathe in his ear, my voice laced with a hungry urgency. He grabs my hip with one hand and pops open the glovebox with the other, pulling out a strip of condoms. I glance down at them and smile ¨C it''s clear that this is far from the first time he¡¯s done something like this.

    He pulls his cock from his trousers and sheathes himself quickly. I barely have a chance to see his cock before he pulls me back on top of him, but it¡¯s just enough to tell me that it¡¯s thick, long, and fat at the head. I can already imagine how good it¡¯s going to feel as he shoves my jeans down a little further so that he can line himself up with my pussy ¨C and then, finally, push inside of me.

    I groan. I can hardly believe that I went from greeting this guy politely in a supermarket to having his cock buried deep inside my pussy in a matter of minutes. I push down on top of him, using the plush leather of the car seat behind him for leverage, and I watch with satisfaction as he tips his head back as my warm pussy squeezes around his cock.

    Once he is all the way inside of me, he grabs my waist and begins to thrust upwards, hard and fast. He¡¯s not holding back. I move my hand between my legs to play with my clit as he fucks me, not willing to leave without an orgasm. It¡¯s every person for themselves right now, the two of us ploughing towards our climaxes together.

    "Fuck," he growls, and he grabs the back of my neck again and pulls me in close to him, pressing me into his shoulder to keep me steady. I kiss up his neck, inhaling the deliciously masculine scent that comes off him in waves. I find his mouth again and kiss him hard, my fingers moving fast against my pussy as he continues to fuck me. The fullness, the feeling of his cock spreading me open and my pussy enveloping him again and again, is everything that I need. An orgasm rumbles deep inside of me, pushing itself to the surface.

    Finally, he moves up inside of me one last time and holds himself there, and I feel his cock explode. The rush as he finishes in me is almost more than I can take, and I cry out. He clamps a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, to ensure that nobody overhears us, but I am sure it¡¯s too late. I feel my pussy contract around him, the rough intensity of the orgasm coursing through me, and a moment later, he guides me into the seat beside him, knowing that we have likely come a little too close to getting caught.

    "That was insane," I breathe, and he glances over at me and grins.

    "First time doing it in public like this?" He asks, and I nod.

    "Not the last, though," I reply, and I mean it. The rush of fucking where anyone could have caught us is exhilarating, and I know that this is going to be my new addiction.

    "I should get going," I tell him, and I reach for the door. "My husband will be wondering where I am..."

    "Send my best to Sean," he remarks, and I laugh. God, there¡¯s something so hot about knowing that I¡¯m fucking a man who knows my husband.

    "And mine to Maddy," I reply, and I slip out of the door and back into the car. My legs are still shaking from the insane orgasm he just gave me, and I need a minute to catch my breath before I pull out of the car park and head back home.

    Before turning on the car, I switch my mobile back on.

    Ding. Ding. Dingdingdingdingdingding.

    My phone vibrates nonstop in my hands as twenty or more texts and missed calls come in. They are all from Sean. They¡¯re coming in so fast I can¡¯t read them. Only the top one stands out to me.

    WHERE ARE YOU?! Donnie SOS

 Chapter 15

    My hands are shaking as I redial Sean¡¯s number. It rings, but he doesn¡¯t answer. I try again, but still, no answer. I feel sick and dizzy. All the colours are too bright and my hearing is distorted. My skin is blazing, and sweat pours down the back of my neck and beneath my armpits. When I glance to my left, Mark¡¯s car is gone, for which I¡¯m grateful. At least he¡¯s not seeing me like this.

    Donnie SOS. It¡¯s a code word Sean and I agreed on after Donnie was born. If we ever couldn¡¯t send a long text or call, but our son was in serious trouble, we would send those two words. But the kind of emergency it signifies is less clear. I think hard, trying to figure out what must have happened and where Sean will be. The fact that they were both asleep when I left the house makes me think this is a medical emergency. It¡¯s not like Donnie would have been kidnapped right out of our house¡­ right?

    Which means they¡¯re most likely at the hospital.

    Somehow, I manage to start the car and put it in gear. It¡¯s hard to focus my eyes, and my whole body is still shaking from the shock, but underneath all this is a more primal instinct: get to your child. Save your child. And it gives me focus. That¡¯s how I¡¯m able to pull the car out of the car park and drive to the nearest Children¡¯s hospital, the hospital we¡¯ve agreed is where we will go In case of emergency.

    Those four words we hoped never to use.

    When I arrive, there¡¯s an ambulance pulled in front of the ER entrance. Immediately, my mind is filled with an image of Donnie being lowered from it in a stretcher, and I throw up in my mouth. The taste is vile, and I spit the chunks into an empty coffee cup sitting in the cup holder between the seats. My mouth is sour, my eyes are watering, and there¡¯s vomit in my nose, but I hardly notice.

    I park, then run to the ER entrance. A quick scan of the waiting room shows me that Sean and Donnie aren¡¯t there. There¡¯s a queue at the check-in counter, and waiting is the most interminable experience of my life. Finally, after at least five minutes, the man in front of moves aside, and I begin babbling at the woman behind the counter.

    ¡°I think my husband and son are here,¡± I say. ¡°He texted me, but I was busy and I didn¡¯t get it. Please, you have to help me find them. They¡¯re here, I¡¯m sure of it. He texted me the code word which means they¡¯re here.¡±

    The woman remains calm, even as my panic sets in.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she says soothingly, ¡°if they¡¯re here, we¡¯ll help you find them. What¡¯s your husband¡¯s name?¡±

    ¡°Sean. Sean Jones. He called me. But I had my phone off. Oh God, I can¡¯t believe I had my phone off! I¡¯m such a selfish mum. When my child needed me most, I wasn¡¯t there. My child¡­ my baby¡­¡±

    I¡¯m losing it, I know. Tears are choking me, and some of them have begun to leak down my cheeks. The woman slides me a box of tissues, and I take one.

    ¡°Just give me a moment,¡± she says, smiling at me reassuringly. ¡°I can look up if they¡¯re here.¡±

    At that moment, the sliding doors that separate the waiting room from the triage area open, and Sean walks out, holding Donnie¡¯s hand.

    ¡°That¡¯s them!¡± I shout, and before the woman behind the desk can respond, I am running towards my husband and child.

    Sean sees me right away. The expression on his face is stony, and it¡¯s the only thing that keeps me from flinging myself into his arms. Donnie looks okay at least, and he¡¯s alive, although he has clearly been crying. He immediately reaches for me.

    ¡°Mummy!¡± he cries, letting go of his father¡¯s hand and running towards me. I scoop him up and press him against my chest, holding him as tightly as I dare. The tears really come then, and for several minutes, I crouch on the floor of the ER waiting room, hugging my son and sobbing.

    At last, I let go of Donnie and look up to see Sean watching us.

    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask as I stand, taking Donnie¡¯s hand in mind.

    ¡°He swallowed about six paracetamols,¡± Sean says, and I feel myself go cold. ¡°They had to pump his stomach.¡±

    ¡°Six?!¡± I gasp. ¡°How? Why??¡±

    ¡°He thought they were candy.¡± Sean looks grim. ¡°I was busy making breakfast, I didn¡¯t realise he¡¯d gone into the medicine cabinet in our bathroom.¡± I can hear the accusation in his voice. The questions. Where were you?! Why weren¡¯t you watching our son? If you¡¯d been there, this wouldn¡¯t have happened.

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    I can feel a fight coming on, but I don¡¯t want to argue here, in the middle of the hospital. ¡°Let¡¯s get him home,¡± I say to Sean, then I lift Donnie into my arms. ¡°How do you feel, sweetie?¡± I whisper to him.

    ¡°My stomach hurts,¡± he says, and he begins to sniffle. Sean follows us out of the ER.

    ¡°We had to take a taxi,¡± he says, as we walk towards the car. The accusation in his voice is back. ¡°Because you had the car.¡±

    ¡°I was getting groceries,¡± I say, a little defensively.

    ¡°With your phone off?¡± Sean sounds sceptical, but I don¡¯t respond. The truth is too terrible to admit, but I know I¡¯m going to have to.

    We spend the day cuddling Donnie on the couch, reading to him and letting him watch tv. He¡¯s very shaken after getting his stomach pumped and can only eat liquids. I blend him smoothies and milkshakes all day and use up all our applesauce and yoghurt. By evening, he¡¯s exhausted, and he goes to bed early.

    The moment he¡¯s down, Sean and I look at each other. The time for our fight has finally arrived. We go to the bedroom and close the door before Sean rounds on me.

    ¡°Where were you?¡± he hisses, as his calm face becomes twisted and furious.

    ¡°I told you,¡± I snap. ¡°I was getting groceries.¡±

    ¡°Why was your phone off for so long? I know it wasn¡¯t dead. You always charge it overnight.¡±

    I sit down on the bed, exhaustion suddenly overcoming me, and put my head in my hands. Sean stands in front of me, his hands on his hips, and I can feel his fury emanating from him, even when I can¡¯t see him.

    ¡°You were meeting someone from the Weekend Club, weren¡¯t you?¡± he asks, more quietly.

    Slowly, and without looking up, I nod. Sean lets out an angry scoff. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± he spits. ¡°Our son was overdosing on paracetamol, and you were sneaking off to fuck someone!¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t!¡± Indignantly, I look back up at him. ¡°It wasn¡¯t planned. I was at the shop, and I ran into Ewan, Maddy¡¯s husband. I never thought he¡¯d been on the Weekend Club, but then we matched while I was in the shop, and he told me to meet him outside, and¡­ I didn¡¯t think it would be a big deal! It was only a few minutes long, I was going to come right home after.¡±

    But Sean is not sympathetic. ¡°There¡¯s a reason we only have dates on the weekends!¡± he seethes. ¡°That way, we know who is taking care of Donnie, and we have contingency plans, in case something goes wrong.¡±

    ¡°This could have happened even if I wasn¡¯t hooking up with someone!¡± I whisper-shout, anger starting to get the best of me. ¡°I could have had my phone off for a million reasons. This isn¡¯t about me not being home, is it? This is about you being jealous I was fucking someone else!¡±

    Sean glares at me. ¡°I¡¯m not jealous you¡¯re fucking someone else, or I wouldn¡¯t be doing the Weekend Club. But we have rules. Boundaries. Weekend dates, in discreet places. I never agreed to you sneaking off during family days to hook up with friends¡¯ husbands in¡­ wait. Where did you even hook up with him?¡±

    ¡°In his car,¡± I admit miserably, looking down.

    Sean throws his hands up. ¡°So you fucked your friend¡¯s husband in a car park in front of our local supermarket, in broad daylight?! Does that sound like a good idea, Jazz? You could have been seen! You could have humiliated me and splashed our private business all over Bow! Not to mention you could have irreparably damaged your friendship with Maddy. And for what, a quickie in a car, like you¡¯re some horny teenager?¡±

    I stand up. I¡¯m no longer going to be yelled at like I¡¯m some disobedient child. ¡°Yeah, for a quickie in a car,¡± I snarl. ¡°Because that¡¯s what I like: a little bit of danger. That¡¯s what I¡¯m discovering about myself, Sean. That I¡¯m a lot more wild than I ever thought I was. And I know that¡¯s scary for you, that you might not be able to handle it, but it¡¯s the most liberating and empowering experience of my life. I¡¯m discovering who I am! For maybe the first time in my life.¡±

    Sean takes a step back from me. He¡¯s shaking his head. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re discovering yourself, Jazz. But there¡¯s a price to that discovery, and it¡¯s our marriage. And now, the safety and health of our child. So I hope it¡¯s worth it.¡±

    He turns and goes into the bathroom, and I listen as he turns on the water and begins to brush his teeth. Suddenly deflated, I sink onto the bed again. Maybe Sean has a point. Maybe the life I¡¯m living in the shadows is damaging the life I already have; the people and relationships I love: with my husband, with my son, and even with my friends. Sean¡¯s right¡­ If Maddy finds out, my friendship with her will be over. But doing these things is so much fun, and I¡¯m learning so much about myself; coming into myself and my sexuality like I never have before.

    Then I think about Donnie going through my medicine cabinet, picking out paracetamols and eating them like candy, and a shiver goes through me. I¡¯m right, too. This could have happened even without the Weekend Club. But there¡¯s truth to the fact that I¡¯ve been absent at home. Absent from Sean, for sure. I can¡¯t even remember the last time we had sex. And absent from Donnie, too. My mind has been preoccupied with the Weekend Club, at the detriment of my relationships. And if something had happened to Donnie, if he hadn¡¯t recovered¡­ I would never have forgiven myself.

    When Sean comes out of the bathroom, I¡¯ve made up my mind.

    ¡°I¡¯m ready to be done with the Weekend Club,¡± I say, as soon as he steps out. His expression immediately softens, and I see some of the tension leave his shoulders. Before he can speak, however, I hold up a hand. ¡°But I want two more dates. To get it out of my system once and for all. To finish exploring this side of myself.¡±

    Sean approaches cautiously. ¡°Two more dates for each of us, right?¡±

    I smile. That¡¯s my husband. Still wants to get some while he can.  ¡°Of course. For both of us.¡±

    Sean sits down next to me and takes me in his arms. For a long time, we hold each other, until our breathing becomes synced. Sean nuzzles his head into my shoulder, and I feel both a strong sense of relief and a tiny twinge of regret. The Weekend Club has been one of the best things that¡¯s ever happened to me, and I¡¯ll be sad to see it go.

    Which just means I¡¯m going to have to make the most of these last two dates.

 Chapter 16

    Two dates left. That¡¯s all I have left ¨C two dates, and then I will have to go back to life as it once was.

    Except I¡¯m not ready. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll ever be ready. Life before now seems like a boring dream I couldn¡¯t wake up from; a pale shadow compared to the full, colourful life I¡¯m leading now. Of course, the Weekend Club was always supposed to end. Sean and I agreed on ten dates in the beginning. Now we¡¯re down to eight, per our new agreement, and I¡¯m struggling to wrap my mind around the fact that soon, it will all be over.

    Will I be the same person I was before? Or has the Weekend Club changed me so irrevocably that I can never go back?

    It feels like I can¡¯t go back. For one thing, there¡¯s the reality that I have now slept with five more people. It¡¯s so bizarre to think about, after being married and monogamous for so long. And honestly, I can¡¯t believe that I¡¯ve had six dates over the past few months. Six dates, six men, and more than a few seriously hot hook-ups.

    It¡¯s changed me forever. I¡¯m more confident. More adventurous. More experimental. I know my worth now. And I¡¯ve tasted what real power feels like.

    For now, however, I¡¯m trying to heal my relationship with Sean. We¡¯ve been connecting better, ever since we decided to only do two more dates. We still haven¡¯t had sex, but there have been some intimate moments where we lay together on our bed, just touching each other.

    Now, I¡¯m lying next to him in bed, my head on his chest, as I scroll through the men who have matched with me in the last couple of days. It¡¯s not that a lot of them aren¡¯t appealing, but I want to make sure that I use my next couple of dates wisely. These have to be the best two dates of them all. The ones that show me things about myself I never even suspected.

    "I¡¯m going to take a shower," Sean tells me, and he drops a kiss on the top of my head and leaves me in the bed to keep looking through the men on the Weekend Club. There must be someone, right? I scroll through another couple of matches, then let out a frustrated sigh. Nobody is making me sit up straight and think that I have found a perfect match...

    And then, I see him.

    I stop dead in my tracks. This isn¡¯t one of my friends¡¯ husbands or something, nothing as salacious as that. No, this is a face and a name that I know all too well, one that I¡¯ve been doing my best to forget about all these years ¨C one that I swore to myself I was never going to see again, no matter what.

    But here he is. Right there in front of me. Jason.

    I know it¡¯s him before I even check his name. Those deep brown eyes tell me everything I need to know ¨C I can remember gazing deep into them whenever I got the chance, wondering if I would be enough to bring him back down to Earth; if I would be able to stop him on his adventure to ruin his life and everyone else¡¯s around him. I thought that I could make a difference, I really did, and I stuck it out for a year with him, pleading with him to just slow down or stop ¨C but it was never enough.

    Jason. The one who got away. I never much believed in that idea before I met him. Or in soulmates. Meant to be. That kind of romance novel bs. After we met, I realised everything I had heard was true, and it scared me. Scared me, knowing I could love someone that much, and that I might never be able to save him.

    He was a drinker, had been since the day that I met him back at university, and the two of us used to party like crazy together. When you¡¯re that age, it¡¯s hard to figure out what¡¯s right and what¡¯s wrong, what¡¯s healthy and what¡¯s going too far. It wasn¡¯t until I hit a wall that I figured he had overstepped a million times before.

    He didn¡¯t know when to stop. He always told me he was so stressed with his courses ¨C he was studying to be a lawyer ¨C and that he just wanted to blow off some steam. And of course, I believed him. I thought he would calm down over the summer, once he didn¡¯t have to worry about exams or anything. But it only got worse.

    Soon, he was drinking most nights, and at first, it seemed like fun. We were spending all our time together, and he was sweeping me off to fancy clubs and bars where we could have special dates. But the booze was always there. His hand on the small of my back, steering me back to my room, the two of us tipsily wrapping ourselves up in one another. His kiss. God, his kiss...

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    Maybe because he was my first sexual experience that was more than a one-night stand, but there was something about him that lit me on fire in a way nobody else has since. I love Sean, of course I do, and our sex life is usually very good, but sometimes¡­ sometimes, I miss that fiery, dysfunctional passion that comes from a relationship where both parties know it¡¯s going to fail soon.

    We didn¡¯t have to hold back, because we knew that we wouldn¡¯t be around each other forever. There was never any talk of this lasting for the rest of our lives. We knew that it would slip through our fingers soon, and the sex¡­ the sex was incredible. I never wanted it to end. The way he fucked me, like I was the most precious thing he¡¯d ever found in his life, is burned in my memory.

    And here he is. Right in front of me. The man I¡¯ve been doing my best not to think about for all these years. It¡¯s not about love, not really, it¡¯s about sex, passion ¨C that feeling of being wanted more than anyone else. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve been desired like that, and I like the idea of indulging in a little of my past. I never know what Jason is about to do, whether it¡¯s good or bad, and the thrill of that ¨C though it hardly fits with my current life ¨C is exactly what I¡¯ve been searching for in the Weekend Club.

    That¡¯s when it hits me. It seems so obvious now, I¡¯m surprised it took me so long to realise. With the Weekend Club, I¡¯ve been trying to recreate the way that Jason used to make me feel.

    With shaking fingers, I swipe right on him. My heart pounds as I stare at the screen and wait for him to pop up as a match ¨C but he doesn¡¯t. Oh. I thought that he would have already swiped on me. It hurts more than I want to admit that he hasn¡¯t. But maybe he just hasn¡¯t seen me yet.

    I go about the next couple of days as best I can, trying not to think about the sight of Jason¡¯s face gazing up at me from that app. He probably wants to forget about the time of his life that he spent with me, and I can hardly blame him ¨C after all, it wasn¡¯t exactly good for either of us. He was spiralling down a hole to substance abuse, and there I was, in the middle of it with him, too young to know how to help him.

    It¡¯s for the best that he doesn¡¯t want to see me, I tell myself. For the best. It¡¯s tempting to dive back into that relationship just to see if the passion and the intensity is still there, but there¡¯s no way anything good could come of it. Anyway, he¡¯s probably grown up by now and left behind the crazy version of himself. The last thing I want is to bring that back up for him.

    Two days later, I take Donnie out to the park, holding his chubby little hand as we head for the swings. I¡¯m trying my best to put Jason to the back of my mind. To remind myself I have everything I need: my loving husband, my safe and healthy child, and all the excitement the Weekend Club has given me.

    Except, for the first time, the Weekend Club no longer feels like enough. I haven¡¯t swiped right on a single man since I saw Jason. None of them hold any appeal, next to him.

    I wonder if the Weekend Club is like an addiction: the more you do something, the more you need each time. Each date, I¡¯ve pushed myself further and further, getting more extreme and intense. And now, faced with Jason, I know there¡¯s nothing that could be more intense than him. And I can¡¯t go back to something less extreme; something that will give me less of a high.

    "Swings?" I ask Donnie, distractedly, and he nods happily. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve been able to get away from work ¨C and, let¡¯s be honest, the Weekend Club ¨C for long enough to take him down to the park, and he¡¯s very excited.

    I hitch him up into the swing and start to push. Soon he¡¯s flying through the air, kicking his little feet up as he goes. I smile as I watch him. He¡¯s been in good spirits this past week. The incident at the hospital hasn¡¯t traumatised him like I feared it would. He seems to have brushed it off. Kids are so resilient like that. I certainly haven¡¯t brushed it off. The anxiety it caused still sits in my chest, threatening to overtake me whenever he¡¯s out of my sight.

    My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I step away to let Donnie swing himself. It¡¯s probably Sean just asking me to pick something up from the shops on my way back¡­

    But instead, it''s Jason. Of course. Dropping in at the worst possible moment. He always had a knack for that, making it so that he was the centre of attention no matter what else was going on in the world around him.

    He¡¯s swiped on me. We¡¯ve matched. And, as I stare down at his handsome face, I wonder just what in the hell I¡¯m doing.

    I put my phone back into my pocket and turn my attention back to Donnie ¨C I''m meant to be here for him, after all, and I¡¯m not going to let anything get in the way of that. But all the way home, that notification is buzzing at the back of my mind ¨C a reminder, constant, that having Jason back in my life is at my fingertips.

    I go through the rest of my day as normally as I can, but there is a throbbing inside of me, something that¡¯s telling me I need to see Jason. Just to get it out of my system. The only way I¡¯m going to be able to know for sure that I have moved on from him is if I see him again, right? Just to make sure that I am completely and utterly over him...

    Finally, I send him a text.

    Long time no see.

    He replies within about thirty seconds. I see you at least once a week in my dreams.

    And that¡¯s how I know it¡¯s back on.

 Chapter 17

    I tell Sean that I have another date, but I don¡¯t tell him it¡¯s with Jason. Sean knows the whole story, of course, and shares my assessment that Jason is bad for me. I feel a little guilty not telling Sean the identity of my date, but I push this guilt away. The Weekend Club is supposed to be about discretion. Sean doesn¡¯t need to know everything.

    The night of my date with Jason, I catch a train down to Manchester. I¡¯m fidgety all the way there. Am I really doing this? It feels as though it can¡¯t be possible, not really. I should be older and wiser than this. But here I am. Doing this.

    Of course, it doesn¡¯t escape my notice that the restaurant he¡¯s picked is the same one we went to on our first date. I still remember that date; the thrill of going out with someone properly for the first time. All the dates I¡¯d been on up until that point had been to fast food places, maybe followed by drinking some cheap cider in a park. But Jason was different. He took me to a fancy restaurant and wined and dined me. Even now, all these years later, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s going to give me something that nobody else has before.

    When I arrive at the restaurant, I think for a moment that it must be closed. There is nobody inside, although the lights are on, and I come to a dead halt, wondering if I have gotten the date or time wrong. Maybe this whole thing has been a joke? Maybe he was just testing me, seeing if he still has the same hold over me. God, I feel like such an idiot...

    Or at least, I do, until the door opens and I see Jason standing there with a warm smile on his face. My heart skips several beats as soon as I lay eyes on him. He¡¯s just as handsome as I remember, if not more so ¨C the few lines on his face that age has left him make him look even more distinguished and striking. And those deep brown eyes pull me in just like they always did. I might have thought I was the one in charge here, the one calling the shots, but as soon as he looks at me, I can tell that any vague attempt at hanging on to control is quickly slipping away.

    He greets me with a kiss on the cheek, swooping down to pull me into his arms. I smile up at him, my stomach flipping deliciously.

    "It¡¯s so good to see you again," he says smoothly. "Come on, I¡¯ve got a table booked, let¡¯s get inside..."

    "This place is dead," I remark, not able to say much more.

    "I booked it out for us," he replies, as though it¡¯s the most obvious thing in the world. My eyes widen.

    "You ¨C "

    "I wanted us to have it to ourselves this evening," he explains, as he steers me through the restaurant with a hand on the small of my back. All of those fizzing feelings, the familiar, intense attraction, are starting to take control of me, and I fight the urge to lean up and kiss him properly. I know I have to hold back. Flinging myself at him like that probably won¡¯t end well.

    "We¡¯ll have a bottle of Malbec," he tells the waiter, once we¡¯re seated.

    "Pretty far removed from the cheap plonk we used to have at uni, huh?" I say with a smile, and he laughs.

    "Well, it¡¯s been years. Only right that some things have changed, don¡¯t you think?"

    ¡°It would be strange if they hadn¡¯t,¡± I agree.

    The waiter returns with the wine and pours a taste for Jason. He swirls it expertly, then takes a sip. ¡°Perfect,¡± he says, smiling at me. ¡°Just perfect.¡±

    The waiter pours us both generation amounts, then steps away to give us privacy. Jason raises his glass.

    ¡°To us,¡± he says, his eyes glittering. ¡°To our reunion.¡±

    ¡°To us,¡± I say, a little breathlessly, as I clink my glass against his.

    After we¡¯ve both drunk, Jason sets his glass down and looks at me seriously. ¡°So, Jazz, you¡¯re married now?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± My voice sounds oddly choked with emotion, and I swallow before trying again. ¡°Sean and I have been married for a while now. And we have a son, Donnie. He¡¯s five.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s incredible,¡± Jason says, and he looks like he genuinely means it. ¡°You really got everything you wanted.¡±

    I laugh and take another sip of wine. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s what I wanted when we were twenty-two. If I recall, all I wanted was to have sex in every single campus building.¡±

    ¡°You did that, too,¡± Jason says, tipping his glass at me.

    ¡°Well then, I guess I did get everything I wanted.¡± The waiter comes with the first course ¨C beef tartare in a delicious-smelling sauce ¨C and we both take another sip of wine. ¡°What about you?¡± I ask. ¡°You must be married as well, if you¡¯re in the Weekend Club.¡±

    ¡°Separated,¡± he says. ¡°My wife and I thought the Weekend Club would save our marriage, but in fact, it showed us that neither of us were happy. It was an amicable split, about a year ago. But we decided not to get divorced quite yet because we wanted to keep using the Club, and you have to be married.¡±

    ¡°That makes sense,¡± I say, taking note that he is single. ¡°What about the law? Did you end up becoming a lawyer?¡±

    ¡°I did,¡± he says, and I see a flicker of pride in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m a criminal defence attorney.¡±

    ¡°You must be a successful one, if you¡¯ve rented this whole place one.¡±

    He laughs. ¡°Well, I represent some very bad and very wealthy clients.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m happy for you, Jason,¡± I say, and I really mean it. ¡°You really¡­ came back down to earth.¡±

    He lowers his fork and looks at me intensely. ¡°I did,¡± he says softly, ¡°but I know you were afraid I wouldn¡¯t, for a while. I owe you an apology, Jazz. For what I put you through then, with my drinking. After we broke up, I got sober. It was a real wakeup call, losing you. So I quit and was sober for five years. Only went back to it after I met my wife and was sure that I¡¯d changed. And I have. Those old habits never came back.¡±

    Lots of emotions are crashing through me, and it¡¯s hard not to show them. I¡¯m happy for Jason that he figured out his drinking problem, honoured that I was the impetus, and also deeply sad; sad that some other woman got to meet him when he was sober; that some other woman got the best version of him.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I finally murmur, ¡°but you don¡¯t have to apologise. I¡¯m not surprised you got sober. Whenever you really wanted something, you were always very focused on getting it.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he agrees, with a small laugh. ¡°And as I remember, you used to be the object of all my focus.¡±

    A lump forms my throat, but I swallow it down and meet his gaze steadily. ¡°Those were the best moments of my life.¡± It¡¯s true, but I still feel a twinge of guilt at saying them. The best moments of my life should involve my son and husband, right?

    ¡°Mine too,¡± he says simply. His eyes are boring into mine, and I feel as if my insides are being pulled out of me, as if he is exposing every deep, secret, dark thought that has ever crossed my mind.

    ¡°And you¡¯re happy?¡± he asks abruptly, breaking the spell. ¡°You¡¯re happy with your husband?¡± His eyes are still locked on mine, as though there is so much more that he wants to get out of me. I stare back at him, unsure of what to say.

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    If I tell him that I¡¯m not, is that going to change things? Is he going to make a move to take me as his? Or will that just make me look desperate for him?

    "Yes, I am," I reply finally, opting for the truth. Although right now, it doesn¡¯t feel like the truth.

    As the meal draws to a close ¨C soundtracked, I realise as we go on, by a playlist of my favourite songs, ones that Jason chose for me ¨C I feel myself not wanting to leave. I have a hotel room nearby, and it would be so easy to just invite him back. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever wanted anything more than to sleep with him one more time.

    He walks me back to my hotel, ever the gentleman. When we reach the door, I turn to him. I can feel my lips pulsing, aching for his touch, but I want him to make the move.

    "I¡¯ve had an amazing time tonight," I murmur, shooting all the signals that I can in his direction. He smiles at me and reaches out to brush the hair back from my face. Even the merest caress of his fingers is enough to make everything in me light up.

    "Can I see you tomorrow?" he asks, and I furrow my brow.

    "What do you mean? You can come upstairs if you like..."

    "No, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s right," he murmurs. "But I¡¯d like to take you out again, if you¡¯ll let me."

    "Of course," I say, too quickly. I can¡¯t pass up the chance to see him again. He smiles and leans down to kiss me again, his lips just barely brushing against my skin. The warmth of his breath is enough to make my toes curl.

    "And here, I got this for you.¡± He hands me two bags from his briefcase.

    "What¡¯re these?¡±

    "See when you get up to your room," he says, flashing me a smile. "I¡¯ll meet you here tomorrow? Ten?¡±

    "Sure.¡±

    He nods, and his eyes linger on me for another moment before he turns to leave. I make it back to my room and tear into the bag. My heart twists when I see all the effort he¡¯s gone to.

    In one is an original-print release of a David Bowie vinyl; I was obsessed with Bowie when the two of us were in uni, and the fact that he remembers that after all this time is hard to believe. The record is in perfect condition and must have cost him a mint ¨C about as much as renting out that whole restaurant for the evening.

    In the other bag is a pair of brand-new size five Louboutins. The gorgeous pair of nude heels probably cost as much as I make in a month. I stare at them. He¡¯s really gone all out, but he¡¯s not here in my room with me right now ¨C what gives? If he intended to spend all this money on me, then I would expect him to also try and get laid¡­

    I take a shower and head to bed, but I can¡¯t sleep. Instead, I find myself tossing and turning, thinking of him, thinking of everything. He can give me so much more than Sean can. I know I shouldn¡¯t think like that, but it¡¯s hard not to. He¡¯s confident, suave, charming, employed, and God, he¡¯s rich, too. And the fact that he didn¡¯t come to bed with me when I offered must mean this isn¡¯t just about sex. He still cares about me, still respects me¡­

    By the time we meet the next day, my head is a bit of a mess. I slip my hand into his as soon as we see each other, needing that touch, to feel the heat of his skin against mine.

    "What would you like to do today?¡± He asks me. "Nice shoes, by the way."

    I¡¯m wearing the heels he got for me; they¡¯re gorgeous and make me feel like I¡¯m walking a fashion runway.

    "Anything you want," I reply, and I mean it. I want to find out just what he is craving, just what he¡¯s looking for when it comes to me.

    "Good, because I¡¯ve got a few ideas," he replies, and he tugs me towards a sleek black car that¡¯s waiting for us. He opens the door for me to climb inside.

    Jason whisks me off to a beautiful spa hotel just outside of the city, where he¡¯s booked us in for a couple¡¯s massage. After all the unresolved tension of the night before, I know I¡¯m going to need it. But when he emerges into the massage room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, the tension only increases. His body, though bigger, is still muscular and strong. As the masseuse drips oil down his back and swirls it around, I wish it were me touching him. But I want him to make the move, and I¡¯m not going to settle for anything less.

    I lose myself in the massage, in the delicious pressure of hands moving over my body, sinking deeper into the puffy fabric of the chair. I can hear his breathing beside me, just like it was when the two of us would share a bed, and I feel as though I am back there.

    When we¡¯re done, he leads me to the bar for a bottle of champagne, and I feel myself once again aching for more. I need him, but I have no idea if he¡¯s going to take me.

    "Do you come here a lot?" I ask him, and he nods.

    "All the time. I have a standing room here, actually."

    "We could¡­ we could go there, if you like," I suggest, a little shyly. I¡¯m not sure what I want him to say, if I expect him to say anything at all. He smiles.

    "Jazz, trust me, I would like nothing more than to take you to that room and fuck you every way that I did back when we were together," he tells me. The filth in his words sends a shiver down my spine. I¡¯m immediately wet.

    "And that¡¯s what I thought was going to happen, when we saw each other again," he admits. "But I¡­ I don¡¯t want to sully what we had. It¡¯s clear we still have something here, but you¡¯re married, and I¡¯m worried that if we start something I¡¯m not going to be able to hold back from taking more."

    I bite my lip. I know exactly what he means, but it doesn¡¯t do anything to extinguish my desire. I still want him. Badly. I want to lean across the table and kiss him, right here, right now, without a care in the world who sees me.

    "I want to give you a couple of days that both of us can look back on and treasure," he continues, covering my hand with his. "Not just a night of sex that¡¯s probably not going to live up to what we had before."

    I want to argue, but I bite my tongue. He¡¯s right; if the sex wasn¡¯t good, it would be devastating, and might even colour my thrillingly erotic memories of him. But God, it just makes me want him more. All this fantasy, this pampering that he¡¯s given me, is more than anything Sean would ever even think to do. He knows me in a way nobody else does, and it¡¯s intoxicating. Even more so than the champagne.

    We sip our champagne together, and I try my best to push thoughts of sex to the back of my mind. I need to let it go. A connection doesn¡¯t need to be physical to be real, and I know that ours is as certain as anything in the world. But I also know that if he leaned across the table and kissed me, I would be helpless to resist.

    But he doesn¡¯t. He knows I¡¯m prone to some bad decision-making when I¡¯m around him, and he doesn¡¯t want to push that on me ¨C much as I wish that he would. We just¡­ talk. About the months we spent together, memories from back when we were barely more than kids. The thrill of being in love for the first time and the excitement of everything that seemed laid out in front of us. Eventually, we move onto the present, and I tell him all about my troubles at work, the way Julie bullies me. When I start to get emotional about it, he takes my hand.

    ¡°No one should ever hurt you,¡± he says softly. ¡°I wish I could protect you from everything.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, the Weekend Club has actually changed things,¡± I say, although there is a very deep, primal part of me that loves the idea of him protecting me. ¡°It¡¯s given me so much confidence, I actually stand up to her now. Things are improving.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s my girl,¡± Jason says, and I can tell he¡¯s impressed. His words send a shiver of desire through me, but I don¡¯t act on it.

    By the time that my train back home is due to leave, I feel¡­ sated¡­ in some way. Yes, we didn¡¯t end up in bed, but maybe that was for the best. The intensity of our attraction is still there, just as much as it was the first time we were together, and I can so easily see my lust getting stirred up to degrees that would just make it hard for me to think straight. Better for me to leave it all behind, put it down to experience for now.

    He waits with me at the station, his arm draped around my shoulders. I want to snuggle into him, to turn my head and kiss him and whisper in his ear to take me back to the hotel, but I hold back. Better to leave wanting than to find myself drawn into something that could screw up my entire life.

    As my train approaches, I rise to my feet and turn to him. I want to be mature and hold it together, but even now, I know that if he suggests something more, I will take it in an instant.

    "It¡¯s been so good to see you again, Jazz," he tells me, and I nod.

    "It really has," I agree. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

    "I will."

    He reaches down and pulls me into a warm hug. I press myself against him, inhaling his scent, trying to take in everything that I can.

    And just like that, it¡¯s over. I¡¯m sitting on the train home, flooded with memories and nostalgia.

    A message from Sean pops into my phone, and I check it, almost dazed at the reminder of my real life.

    How was it? He¡¯s asking.

    I hover my fingers over the keys. I could tell him the truth ¨C that it was so intense I feel the urge to go back for more ¨C but I don¡¯t want to hurt him. I glance down at the new shoes on my feet and quickly make up a lie about how I was stood up and took myself shopping instead. Then I turn my phone off and lean my head against the window.

    It¡¯s all so much to take in, and I don¡¯t know how I am meant to make sense of everything that¡¯s just happened. That chemistry is as fiery as it¡¯s ever been. But I need to remember that the Weekend Club is meant to be a break from my real life, not a chance to start over with an old one. I am not going to let anything take me from the family that I have spent so long building to perfection.

    Not even a gorgeous, rich man who knows exactly what size shoe I wear and the perfect playlist to woo me. Not even for someone like him. Sometimes, it¡¯s better to let the one who got away stay gone.

 Chapter 18

    Despite my best efforts, Jason doesn¡¯t leave my mind.

    In the shower several days later, all I can think about is the way his hands would have felt moving over my body; how deliciously tempting he was that night that we spent together, even though we didn¡¯t even kiss properly. The chemistry was still burning the way it always had, and I am sure it will consume me unless I can get him into bed one last time.

    I can¡¯t hold myself back any longer, and once I¡¯m out of the shower, I grab my phone, still naked, and pull up my chat with Jason.

    For a moment or two, I hesitate, unsure of what to say. Should I go with something coy and flirtatious? Simple and friendly? Or painfully honest?

    I type out several options before finally settling on painful honesty. If not now, when? This might be the last time we ever cross paths, in this life.

    I have one date left on the Weekend Club before Sean and I have agreed to delete it. I¡¯d like to use that last date to see you again. Even if it¡¯s just to talk.

    Technically, meeting up with Jason again won¡¯t count as a date on the app. It¡¯ll be a second date with an ex. And so far, I have been careful not to mention to Sean that I spent last weekend with Jason. He knows all about us and the fiery, tempestuous relationship we had. And I don¡¯t think he¡¯d be pleased to know we¡¯ve rekindled that. And yes, technically, it¡¯s not cheating, because he¡¯s someone I matched with on the app, but still¡­ It does feel like I¡¯m hiding something, and that feels like infidelity.

    The problem is, that secrecy also turns me on.

    I feel like a foolish schoolgirl as I reread my message over and over again, wondering if I said too much. If he¡¯s going to reject me. But then I remind myself: we have unfinished business, and I¡¯m sure he feels it as well.

    Except, he doesn¡¯t message me back.

    As I get dressed, I figure he is trying to do the right thing, not jump too quickly to get a married woman into bed; but he has to understand that this is coming from me, not him. I want this. No, I need it. I won¡¯t be able to get back to my real life until I''ve had him.

    Or at least, that¡¯s what I tell myself. I¡¯m trying to push down the thoughts that tell me it¡¯ll be harder to get back to my real life after more time with him.

    Finally, after several hours of laying in bed and ignoring my husband and Donnie as I wait for a message back, a ping comes on my phone. I look down, and my heart jolts. It¡¯s Jason.

    I want to be your last date, he writes back. But you¡¯re married.

    I begin to write back, but before I can finish my thought, he¡¯s messaged me again. So I need you to prove that you¡¯re really mine, even if it¡¯s just for one more date.

    This surprises me. So he¡¯s jealous of Sean? And here I thought he was trying to be respectful. Dangerously, this sends another thrill through me.

    What can I do to prove that? I write back.

    Something dangerous, his reply comes at once. Then I¡¯ll know you¡¯re ready to take on the danger of spending one more date with me.

    Anything, I immediately respond. Tell me.

    There are a few moments of nothing, then his reply comes. Start a rumour about your bitch boss. Embarrass her like she¡¯s embarrassed you.

    My heart begins to hammers. How do I do that? I write back, but Jason responds with only a cryptic message: I¡¯ll be waiting.

    I¡¯m thinking about Jason¡¯s words the next day at work, when I¡¯m having a one-on-one with Steve. We¡¯ve been having these one-on-ones pretty regularly, ever since the meeting where I disagreed with our approach to the difficult client. Steve¡¯s nice; he seems to value me as an employee and a person, which is more than I can say for how Julie has ever made me feel.

    In fact, he¡¯s in the middle of telling me how impressed he is by my work and professionalism when he suggests that I take on more responsibility.

    ¡°I¡¯d like you to step up into a leadership role on our next audit,¡± he says, and I feel my back straighten.

    ¡°Me?¡± I try to sound humble. ¡°But certainly Julie¡­?¡±

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    Steve frowns and looks away. ¡°Julie has ruffled a lot of feathers recently,¡± he says, not quite meeting my eye. ¡°She doesn¡¯t have the sensibility for this kind of work. It takes finesse, talking to people about money. That is to say¡­ it¡¯s a sensitive subject¡­ And, well, Julie is talented at her job, nothing against her, but¡­.¡±

    Steve is flustered, and I don¡¯t want him to lose track of what he was telling me about my new leadership role, so I jump in. ¡°I understand, Julie is excellent. But she¡¯s very busy with other projects right now.¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Steve seizes on this. ¡°Precisely. You, on the other hand¡­ you¡¯re a rising star. Now, it¡¯s just an unofficial project manager role, not a promotion, but I want you to think of it like¡­ a trial. You know we have a position opening up as an Accounting Manager soon, right? Well, I would encourage you to apply for that position, and if you succeed in this role, I will put in a good word for you with the top dog.¡±

    My heart is beating fast, but I manage to play it cool as I smile graciously. ¡°Wow, thank you, Steve! This is a real vote of confidence,¡± I say in a chipper, polished voice. ¡°I would absolutely love to take on more responsibility. I was already planning to apply for the Accounting Manager position, and your support is very much appreciated.¡±

    Steve beams at me. ¡°You¡¯ve really proven yourself, Jazz. And as another show of good faith, I¡¯ll let you pick your team for this audit.¡±

    For a moment, I savour the thought of asking Julie to be one of the subordinates on my team. It would be a great way to embarrass her the way Jason has asked me to. But then I dismiss the thought; there¡¯s no way I¡¯d be allowed to make my current Accounting Manager a member of my team.

    But then, a better idea strikes me.

    After I log off of the call, I DM Andy, the guy who saw Mark and me at the hotelon our date. Can you jump in a call?

    Sure thing! He responds right away. Good lad. He must have heard that Steve¡¯s taken a liking to me.

    Once we¡¯re in a call, I get straight down to business.

    ¡°So Steve¡¯s offered me the position of project manager on our next audit,¡± I say, and I enjoy watching Andy force himself to look happy for me.

    ¡°That¡¯s great Jazz. Congrats!¡±

    ¡°Hmm, yes¡­¡± It is great for me, and I don¡¯t attempt to look modest. ¡°He¡¯s also letting me handpick my own team.¡±

    Andy¡¯s eyebrows shoot up. He knows what this means. A handpicked team always looks good to management. ¡°Well, I hope you¡¯ll consider me,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve always thought you do excellent work here and I¡¯d love to help out, if I can.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I want to talk to you. I¡¯d love to have you on my team. But first¡­¡± My smile widens. ¡°I need you to do something for me.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Andy sounds apprehensive, but like he¡¯s trying to hide it. He blinks several times in rapid succession. ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Remember the night you saw me and Julie¡¯s husband Mark at a hotel?¡± I ask. His eyes go very wide, and he blushes. It¡¯s clear he¡¯s been wondering for a while when I was going to bring that up.

    ¡°Y-yes¡­¡± he stammers. ¡°And I never told anyone about that!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s to tell?¡± I ask lightly. ¡°We were there with our spouses and were looking for Julie when you saw us.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± Andy fidgets. It¡¯s clear he doesn¡¯t believe this for a second.

    ¡°But as it happens,¡± I continue, ¡°that¡¯s not what I want people to think.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Andy¡¯s brow crinkles in confusion.

    ¡°I need you to, discreetly, start a rumour saying that you saw Mark on a date with someone. Not me. Someone you didn¡¯t recognise. But it needs to be clear you believe he was having an affair.¡±

    ¡°But--¡±

    ¡°And if you do, then I¡¯ll appoint you to my team.¡±

    Andy rubs a hand along his chin. ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem worth the risk. What if I get caught? What if Julie finds out it was me? I¡¯ll get fired.¡±

    ¡°Julie won¡¯t discover anything. You¡¯ll be discreet. That¡¯s why you¡¯re a good accountant. You keep secrets for a living.¡± I lean forward and stare Andy hard in the eyes. ¡°I¡¯m on the rise, Andy. Steve has all but promised me the next big promotion. Believe me, you want to hitch your wagon to my rising star. Not Julie¡¯s. You didn¡¯t hear this form me, but she won¡¯t be here for much longer.¡±

    Andy swallows, but I can practically see the gears turning in his head. He¡¯s thinking about it. He¡¯s considering.

    Finally, he looks back up at me. ¡°I want a guarantee, in writing, that if you get the promotion, you¡¯ll take me with you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll send you an email now,¡± I say, leaning back and smiling serenely. I¡¯ve got him.

    And, sure enough, within a few days, I¡¯m getting texts from coworkers asking me if I¡¯ve heard the rumour that Julie¡¯s husband is having an affair. I reply with a shocked What?! No! to each text, but with every one, my excitement grows. Meanwhile, Julie is angrier than ever. Every meeting we¡¯re in together, her temper erupts at inappropriate moments. However, she holds her tongue around me. Now that I¡¯m Steve¡¯s protege, she can¡¯t touch me.

    It¡¯s with smug satisfaction that I text Jason, sending him screenshots of the texts I¡¯ve received to prove I¡¯ve done as he¡¯s asked.

    Good girl, he messages me back. And although Paulo and Jake also said this to me, these words feel different, when coming from Jason. There¡¯s real power in them, and not just because he¡¯s dominant; it¡¯s because he actually has power over me. For him, I would be willing to go too far. I would be willing to submit fully.

    How does it feel? He follows up.

    Amazing. I feel so powerful.

    Do you feel like you¡¯re mine now?

    Yes, I write back, so giddy with desire that I can barely breath.

    I do too. There is a pause, and then, Get permission to go away for a weekend. Meet me at St Pancras International at 10 on Friday. Bring only your purse and your passport. Only. Not even a suitcase.

    My throat goes very dry. What is going on? Is he taking me somewhere? With no clothes?

    But whatever it is ¨C wherever it is ¨C I know I will go where he leads.

 Chapter 19

    Sean gives me permission to be gone for a full weekend, since it¡¯s my last date. And I follow Jason¡¯s instructions to a T. I pack nothing and bring only my handbag with my wallet, mobile phone and passport. Then I get a taxi and arrive at St Pancras right at 9:55.

    At the station, I wait for Jason to arrive. The excitement is so palpable that I don¡¯t even feel guilty about going away for a full weekend with my ex. A whole weekend away means sex, right? There¡¯s no way Jason is going to be able to resist, considering it¡¯s our last time seeing each other. But maybe the sex will be worse than I remember it, and then I¡¯ll be able to get it out of my system once and for all, right? Just sex. That¡¯s all that the Weekend Club has been about, sex ¨C the two of us, me and Sean, reminding ourselves that we still have it going on outside of the confines of our marriage. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s been up to stuff that he might not want to share in great detail with me, either.

    "Jazz?"

    I look up, and there he is. Jason. My heart skips several beats and I do my best to control my breathing, but I am sure that he is able to see the myriad of thoughts rushing through my mind right now. I rise to my feet, and he pulls me into a warm hug.

    "It¡¯s so good to see you," he murmurs, and I squeeze him back. He smells so good. I don¡¯t want to let go of him, but I manage to pull away long enough to ask him the most important thing.

    "Where are we going?"

    His eyes glisten with excitement, as though he can hardly wait to see my reaction when he reveals it. "The train¡¯s arriving any minute," he says mysteriously. "Guess you¡¯ll have to wait and see, huh?"

    Sure enough, right on schedule, the train pulls up ¨C and I realise it¡¯s the fast-track to Paris.

    "Holy shit, Jason!" I gasp. "Paris?! Are you serious?¡±

    "Ask me when you see the room I¡¯ve booked overlooking the Champs-Elysees," he replies, and he opens the train door for me.

    "But I haven¡¯t brought any clothes with me," I burble, still too stunned to take this all in. "I ¨C are you sure I can ¨C "

    "I have clothes waiting there for you," he replies, and I go to take a seat ¨C but he slips his hand into mine and shakes his head.

    "First class, obviously," he says.

    We drink a glass or two of champagne as the train speeds across the water towards Paris, and I stare out of the window and try to wrap my head around this. I can¡¯t remember the last time I¡¯ve had a break, let alone a spontaneous one like this to the most romantic city in the world.

    We arrive at the hotel just before midnight, and I wonder if he has booked us a room to share. I know that I am not going to be able to keep my hands off of him if he has ¨C I want him, need him. Need to feel him moving inside of me. The champagne has me hornier than ever, and all this tension is nearly more than I can take.

    He checks us in, then guides me up the ornate staircase to the absurdly-huge room that he¡¯s booked for us. I gasp as he opens the door.

    "You¡¯re kidding, right?¡±

    The place is big enough to fit my entire flat inside of it. A giant bed, thick with plush covers, sits in the middle, and a huge picture window opens out onto a gold-framed balcony. It¡¯s by far the fanciest place I¡¯ve ever set foot in.

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    "Yours," he tells me, as he slips his arms around my waist. "For the weekend, at least."

    I turn to him. Our mouths are so close that it takes everything not to just throw myself at him.

    "Ours," I correct him, softly. And finally, I feel his lips on mine. It¡¯s everything I¡¯ve been craving, from the moment I laid eyes on him again, and I turn to face him properly so that I can kiss him the way I want to.

    He winds his arms around me, then pulls me in so close so that there isn¡¯t an inch between our bodies. It¡¯s familiar and new all at the same time, and enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He caresses the small of my back, that spot just above my jeans, and I press myself to him even harder.

    He guides me back onto the bed without breaking our kiss. He tastes perfect. I¡¯m drunk on the champagne, on him, and on being in Paris. I can do anything that I want here. None of it will ever catch up with me. All that matters is being able to give in to the delicious weight of his body on top of mine.

    He undresses me slowly, his hands caressing each inch of skin as he bares me for the first time in years. All I can do is groan and hang on to him, watch as he touches me, like he is worshipping sacred ground. I know how he feels. I also want to worship every inch of him.

    I open his shirt and run my hands over his strong chest. Even after all this time, seeing him shirtless still gives me the shivers, and I press my lips against his skin, feeling the beat of his heart beneath my mouth. He pushes a hand through my hair and pulls me up to kiss him again, and our tongues meet. They grow more frantic as we strip away each other¡¯s clothes and make out like nothing else in the world matters.

    It doesn¡¯t take long until we¡¯re both naked ¨C he looks down at my body, lips slightly parted as though he can hardly believe this is happening, but I am not willing to wait any longer. I reach for his hips and pull him closer to me, spreading my legs and hooking my ankles around his back, and, finally, I feel his cock pressing at the entrance of my pussy.

    I moan loudly as he begins to push into me, and I wonder how I have been able to hold back on taking him like this for so long. There is something about the feeling of him spreading me open, filling me with his warm, thick cock, that makes it hard for me to think straight. All I can do is hang onto him, keep myself grounded in this moment, in the passion of his touch.

    He moves forward until he is all the way inside of me, and then he holds himself there for a long moment, as though savouring the sensation. I know how he feels. After so long apart, I don¡¯t want to rush through this. His eyes meet mine. They are filled with desire and want, and I pull him down to kiss me again. At the same time, I start to roll my hips back to meet his cock.

    He moves into me hard and deep, not holding back, and every thrust sends a cascade of shivers through my body. God, he knows just what he¡¯s doing. And it¡¯s just as good as I remember it. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, feeling his muscles flex beneath my touch, and I gasp as he drives himself even deeper. I don¡¯t know how much longer I can take this.

    My body is already starting to crest, drawing closer and closer to an edge that I can¡¯t hold back from for much longer. The pressure of it is powerful, growing deep inside my belly, and I close my eyes and press my head into his chest, reminding myself that yes, this is really happening, we are really doing this, he is really fucking me hard and deep in this hotel bed in Paris. I squeeze my thighs around him, silently urging him to go faster, harder. It¡¯s all that he needs to push himself over the edge.

    He slams into me, again and again, harder and harder, until finally, I feel the warmth of his seed. My pussy contracts around him as I cum so hard that I feel as though I won¡¯t be able to walk for days, and he groans as he feels me finishing all around him. Our orgasms run together, our pleasure fading into one another¡¯s until there is nothing left to say, nothing left to do, except enjoy it.

    He holds himself inside of me for a long moment before he pulls out. Then he slips onto the bed beside me and lets out a long sigh of relief.

    "You have no idea how much I wanted to do that," he says. I turn my head to face him, still bleary from the intense pleasure that he¡¯s just given me.

    "Yeah, I think I do," I reply, and I laugh. I hook my leg over his and rest my head on his chest again. I know that this weekend can¡¯t last forever, but honestly, I wish it could.

 Chapter 20

    And he only makes that feeling grow.

    I wake up the next day to find an open suitcase at the bottom of my bed ¨C full of clothes in my exact size. Designer ones. I pull out a gorgeous little black dress with a Versace label attached, and I shake my head as Jason steps out of the shower.

    "You really didn¡¯t have to do any of this,¡± I say.

    "I know I didn¡¯t have to. But seeing you in that dress is going to make it more than worth it, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    I get dressed in the new dress and slip into a pair of the red-soled shoes he¡¯s bought for me, and we go for breakfast. I feel like a princess; there¡¯s just no other way to describe how he¡¯s indulging me right now. He buys me coffee and croissants and then takes me to the Musee de l''Orangerie, where the two of us take in the gorgeous pieces of art and admire the gardens.

    That evening, he takes me to a beautiful little restaurant that serves the most delicious wine, and we sip and reminisce about the old days. He doesn¡¯t seem to have issues with alcohol anymore, and I find myself relaxing into this, letting the tipsiness get the better of me. Under the table, his hand slips over my leg, and I can¡¯t help but flutter my lashes at him. Already, I know that a single fuck isn¡¯t going to come close to sating me, not after that last one we had.

    We just make it back to the hotel before he rips the dress off of me and throws me down onto the bed again. This time, he buries his head between my legs, goes down on me until I¡¯m leaking wetness and trembling with pleasure, then pushes his cock into me.

    We sleep wrapped up in each other¡¯s arms that night, the wine and rush of emotions making me relaxed and blissful. When I wake the next morning, he¡¯s already in the shower, and I can¡¯t resist sneaking in to surprise him. He lifts me up, pins me against the wall beneath the running water, and fucks me so hard that my cries echo around the small space.

    As I snuggle up on the bed drinking coffee while he gets dressed, I have to remind myself that this is just a fantasy. Just a date. Nothing more than that. I need to keep that right at the front of my mind, more than anything else. Yes, this might feel magical, but it¡¯s only a weekend. At the end of this, I¡¯m going back to my husband. No matter how far from him I might feel in this moment, tomorrow night I am going to fall asleep next to him with our son in the next room, just like I always do.

    But for the Sunday that I still have here in Paris, I can¡¯t help but indulge myself. By the time I¡¯m dressed, Jason has a limo waiting for us, and it sweeps us all the way down to Notre Dame, where I gaze up at the gorgeous stained-glass windows. Light filters through them, covering the ground below us with scatters of bright colour. I lean into Jason and smile. This feels so good, in a way that I am struggling to put into words. It feels right. And it¡¯s taking everything in me not to turn around and tell him something I can¡¯t take back.

    That evening, he takes me for dinner at a small restaurant near the Moulin Rouge, and afterwards, we head to the classic nightclub for an evening together. There is an incredible dance performance on display, and I lean over the balcony of the box he hired so that I can see it properly. Nothing feels real ¨C as if I must be imagining it. But it¡¯s happening, and he¡¯s making it happen for me.

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    This is what Jason does. It hits me, as he slips his arm around my waist as we walk back to the hotel later. This is what he does, and this is what he¡¯s going to be able to keep doing. If I had stayed with him, he would have been able to show me this kind of life. I¡¯d be lying if I said there isn¡¯t a part of me that wonders if I made a mistake by letting him go.

    But I push this thought to the back of my mind. I can¡¯t let it get the better of me. Truthfully, I have no idea what Jason would have been like if we had stayed together. We were a mess when we were in a relationship, and it wouldn¡¯t surprise me to know that we would have stayed that way, too. We needed to get out of each other¡¯s way if we were going to grow into the people we are today.

    And the people we are today¡­ Well, we match. I can¡¯t deny it, much as I¡¯d like to. Some part of me had hoped there nothing at all left between us. That would make going back to Sean so much easier. But there is still something here, something more intense than I¡¯ve ever experienced, and I love it as much as I hate it.

    That evening, we go back to the hotel, and he kisses me in the doorway of our room and holds me close for a long moment, as though he is taking in every part of me. I know how he feels. This will be over all too soon, and when it is, we¡¯ll be back in the real world, with our real lives. For me, with my real husband and my real son.

    "I¡¯ve had an amazing time this weekend," he murmurs, and I squeeze my arms around his waist.

    "Me too," I reply. It doesn¡¯t feel big enough to capture everything that I¡¯m feeling, but it will have to do for now. He tilts my chin up so that I am facing him and leans down to kiss me ¨C and before I know it, the two of us are tangled in the sheets again, hands moving hungrily over each other like we are the only people in the world that matter.

    We wake early the next day to catch the train, and I look longingly at the suitcase of all the clothes that he bought for me. I can¡¯t bring them all home with me. Sean will be suspicious, and I don¡¯t want him asking questions about this trip. The fact that he has given me a whole weekend is already more than I could ever ask for. And he¡¯s only doing it because he is sure I am going to come back to him.

    On the train back, I find it hard to make conversation. It¡¯s difficult to know what to say, when all I want to do is plead with him to let this last a little longer. It¡¯s over ¨C over, the way it¡¯s meant to be, the way that I intended it to be over when I started all of this. And yet¡­

    At the station, he kisses me on the cheek, and I inhale the scent of him once more, losing myself in it.

    "Thank you for this weekend," I murmur.

    He smiles as he pulls back. "Thank you for letting me give it to you.¡± He looks at me for one last moment, a long stare that seems so loaded with everything that we want to say.

    "I¡¯ll be seeing you soon," he says softly. And with that, he turns on his heel and walks away.

    I catch the tube back to my place, my head spinning. What does he mean, he¡¯ll be seeing me again soon? He knows that if he walks back into my life after everything that¡¯s happened, he is going to tear it apart. I can¡¯t hide how I feel about him if Sean is right there with me, and I don¡¯t know that I want to...

    I push these thoughts away, locking them in a dark chamber deep inside my head. It¡¯s over. That¡¯s what I need to remember. It¡¯s over, and I have a family and a life to get back to. This excursion with the Weekend Club is behind me now, once and for all, and I need to focus on getting back to the real world again.

    Even if the memories of Paris are going to keep me up for some long, long nights.

    We¡¯ll always have Paris, I think to myself, and laugh woodenly.

 Chapter 21

    I hover my finger over the delete button and try to pluck up the courage to do what I know I need to.

    My heart is beating hard in my chest, and I can¡¯t help but feel as though I¡¯m making a mistake. But I know this is the right thing to do ¨C and if I don¡¯t make this call now, then I might never get around to doing it.

    It¡¯s been nearly ten days since I came back from the trip to Paris with Jason, and I haven¡¯t been able to stop thinking about him. My brain keeps running over every little detail over and over again until it feels like they are laid in solid ground inside my head. I can¡¯t get rid of him, even though I promised myself it would be the last I ever saw him.

    Sean has noticed, of course. He¡¯s not blind; he can tell something is up. As he reads to Donnie on the couch, I find myself watching the two of them, waiting to feel that spark of joy that I normally do when I see them together. But it doesn¡¯t quite come the way it normally does. Once Donnie is off to bed, Sean comes over to me and puts an arm around my shoulder.

    "Are you okay?" He asks. "You¡¯ve seemed¡­ kind of off for the last few days."

    "I¡¯m fine," I lie. "Just tired, that¡¯s all."

    He doesn¡¯t know about the extent of my weekend with Jason. No way am I going to tell him that my ex swept me off to Paris for a couple of days. No, I¡¯m sure it would do nothing but make him feel inadequate, and that¡¯s the last thing I want. Besides, I want to keep this all to myself, so that I can savour the memories that are completely and utterly mine.

    I¡¯m sure it will fade in a couple of days. I¡¯m sure. It¡¯s just a crush; just old memories getting stirred up and making me feel like I have more of a connection with Jason than I really do. Yes, it¡¯s tempting to let myself get caught up in what we had, but I know that we¡¯re not good for each other, not really.

    Even if that trip was the most fun I¡¯ve had in years. Even if I have never felt that romanced by anyone before in my life. Oh, it¡¯s impossible to get him out of my brain ¨C I want to forget about him, but he¡¯s stuck there, going round and round.

    I wonder if he¡¯s thinking about me, too. I lie awake at night, next to Sean, and do my best not to ponder that question. I don¡¯t want to reach out to him, because if I do, I¡¯m going to find some way to see him again, and that would be a disaster. Sean and I are done with the Weekend Club.

    He¡¯s already deleted the app, of course. He didn¡¯t even have to think twice about it.

    "It was so much fun," he admitted, with a flash of that cheeky grin I love so much. "But I want to keep coming home to you. Besides, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m going to be able to fit in many more dates, what with working again¡­¡±

    He¡¯s landed a management job at another pub. It¡¯s farther away from home than the last one, so he has more commuting time. Still, it¡¯s good to have him working again.

    "Yeah, of course," I agreed, hoping he believed me. I didn¡¯t want to hurt him. I still don¡¯t. But the secret of what happened between Jason and me is starting to hang heavy in my head. It¡¯s not like the other dates.

    Maybe because of the history between us, and maybe because there are so many details that I am keeping from Sean, but it feels more like an affair than anything else I¡¯ve done so far. Which is ridiculous, because my husband knows that it was happening. But it¡¯s not as simple as just sex with Jason, the way it was with the other dates. It¡¯s something deeper, something that¡¯s not so easy to just throw off and forget about.

    His last words to me, about seeing me again soon, keep playing over and over again in my head. That¡¯s him telling me he¡¯s not done with this, right? That he still wants to see more of me? I wish I could take him up on that, but if I were to sneak out with him outside of the rules that Sean and I made, then I really would be cheating. And I can¡¯t stand the thought of doing that.

    It¡¯s the thrill of it. The thrill of having someone lavish all this time and attention on me. Back here, back home, I know it¡¯s not possible in the same way, what with real life poking its head in. But I wish¡­ I wish that I could just have a little more time with him. And that¡¯s dangerous.

    Yes, Jason and I have amazing chemistry, but we¡¯ve already tried dating and we know it doesn¡¯t work. If it was meant to work out, then it would have the first time. It didn¡¯t. I need to forget about him, to focus on the life that is right in front of me and remember this is the life I want.

    I need to get rid of the app. That¡¯s the only way I¡¯m going to be able to leave all of this behind, and I know it. I need to forget everything that happened between Jason and me, and, more than anything, ensure that I don¡¯t have any other way of staying in touch with him. We didn¡¯t exchange numbers, after all.

    I have sent him one last message. Thanking him for the good time we had together, wishing him the very best. And now, I am sitting there, on the edge of the bed, my finger hovering over that delete button as I try to make myself press it.

    And, finally, I click down on the button. Then I watch as the app vanishes from my phone. It¡¯s over. This months-long adventure into the crazy world of other people is over. If Sean and I want to get back into the app again, we have to go through the whole screening process and get ourselves signed up once more, and that sounds exhausting. Anyway, Sean wouldn¡¯t want to.

    It¡¯s done. Eight dates, and it¡¯s done. And God, they were crazy dates. There isn¡¯t a single one that I¡¯m going to forget, one way or another. It¡¯s a good thing. They were all special to me, except maybe Steffan. And they taught me about myself. Made me braver. More ready to try out new things and put myself out there.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Later that night, I snuggle up to Sean and press my nose into his hair, inhaling deeply. Here, with him, this is home. This is where I¡¯m meant to be. He half-turns, sleepily, to face me.

    "Hey," he murmurs. "You okay?"

    "Yeah, I¡¯m great," I promise him, as I kiss the back of his neck. "Just great."

    And for the next few days, I am able to convince myself that I am. I take care of Donnie, I work, and I curl up with Sean on the couch to watch TV at the end of a long day, and it feels right. Just like it was before, except maybe with a little more trust than there was. Because, for both of us to go and experiment with other people, but still come back here, that¡¯s powerful. That¡¯s a sure sign that both of us are where we need to be right now.

    I wake up on Friday morning, a couple of days after I deleted the app, with my stomach stirring with nausea. I make it to the bathroom just in time to throw up, and by the time I stagger out again, Sean is waiting for me, looking concerned. I lift a hand to get him away from me.

    "Don¡¯t come too close," I warn. "I¡¯ve got some kind of stomach bug, I don¡¯t want to give it to you and Donnie."

    "Do you want me to go out and get you something?¡± He asks. I shake my head as I crawl back into bed.

    "I just want to rest for a little bit. Can I stay in bed a bit longer?¡±

    "Of course," he assures me, dropping a kiss on my head.

    I curl up in bed and feel sorry for myself the rest of the day, reassuring myself that I¡¯m going to be fine tomorrow. But before I can so much as make myself a morning coffee, the nausea hits me again, and I am bent over the toilet bringing up everything I ate the night before.

    It doesn¡¯t make sense, I think to myself, as I clean myself up. Donnie and Sean are both fine, so why would this stomach bug have hit just me...?

    I figure that I can take the weekend off to relax and try to get myself feeling better, but it doesn¡¯t work. On Monday, I¡¯m still sick, and I¡¯m starting to get worried.

    I think about going to the doctor¡¯s, but it seems extreme to go to the doctor over a little stomach bug. I¡¯m sure that I am going to feel better soon. I make myself a mint tea to calm my stomach after Donnie is away to school, but I catch a whiff of some cheese from the fridge and I feel the sickness rising up in my stomach again.

    That¡¯s when it hits me. I have felt this way before, just once in my life ¨C when I was pregnant with Donnie. But there¡¯s no way, is there?

    My stomach twists into angry knots as I think hard. Sean and I haven¡¯t had sex in a long time. And with the others, I always used condoms. Except¡­with Jason, I can¡¯t remember if we used condoms, and it¡¯s not like I¡¯m on the pill or anything. I wrack my brain trying to remember¡­ We were just so caught up in the heat of the moment, like horny teenagers, and I can¡¯t remember pausing to think about protection. Anyway, I never thought this could happen. The universe doesn¡¯t have that cruel a sense of humour, does it? I try to bite down the panic that is rising up inside of me, but it¡¯s starting to take control. No, no, no, this can¡¯t be happening, no way ¨C not a chance in hell.

    Sean and Donnie are out of the house, so I head down to our local pharmacy to grab a pregnancy test. I know I won''t be able to rest easy until I know one way or another what¡¯s going on in my uterus.

    I pick up a bunch of stuff at the pharmacy and toss it all down on the counter, hoping that it will obscure the fact that I only came here for a pregnancy test. I know that the woman behind the counter can¡¯t say anything, but still, I don¡¯t want Sean knowing about this little freak-out of mine.

    The blood is rushing around my head as I walk back to the flat. This is crazy. There is no way, no way at all, that I am pregnant right now, let alone by Jason. We had sex a handful of times, that¡¯s not enough for me to...

    I know that I am just trying to soothe myself. There¡¯s no amount of times you need to have sex to get pregnant. Hell, one tiny little hole in a condom can be enough. I just can¡¯t believe for an instant that I would have been so careless as to get myself pregnant by one of the guys that I hooked up with from the Weekend Club.

    Once I round the corner of our street, I practically sprint back home so that I can take the test. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s going to be negative, and that I am going to laugh at myself for how paranoid I have been, but I need to see that little blank space that tells me there is no baby growing inside me.

    My mind flashes to what Jason said the last time that we saw one another ¨C that he would see me again. Is this what he meant? He couldn¡¯t have known that, surely. He couldn¡¯t have guessed. No, I am just being paranoid. No reason to get all up in my head before I¡¯ve even had a chance to take this test.

    I rush to the bathroom, dump my stuff on the floor, and unwrap the test as quickly as I can. Positioning it awkwardly underneath me, I pee on it, then sit on the edge of the bath, counting down the seconds until the results appear. I know nothing is going to come of this, I know that, and yet, my heart is still drumming as I attempt to calm down. I have no idea why it¡¯s even crossed my mind that I might be pregnant, when I know I¡¯m not. It¡¯s just paranoia. Think of how relieved I¡¯m going to be when I look down and see that it¡¯s negative...

    And when the time is up, I peer down at the little plastic stick, and everything in me clenches.

    Because it¡¯s not negative. It¡¯s positive. I¡¯m pregnant.

    I run back out to the shop and buy two more tests, gulp down some water, then take them both back-to-back, praying that they¡¯re going to show me that the first one was a mistake. But they don¡¯t. They both come up positive, and soon, I am sitting there, in the bathroom, surrounded by irrefutable proof that I am pregnant.

    And that it is not my husband¡¯s baby.

    How the hell am I going to tell him? How am I going to let Jason know? It¡¯s not like I have access to him anymore, now that I have deleted the app, and I can¡¯t get back on it without my husband knowing.

    And it¡¯s not going to be long until I start showing. With Donnie, it was a matter of weeks before the little bump formed. Then Sean will figure it out. He¡¯s going to know that it¡¯s not his, or at least that he has a whole lot of competition, given everything else that has been going on.

    I put my head in my hands. I can¡¯t fucking believe this. But it also seems like karmic retribution. This is what I get, for daring to bring someone as toxic as Jason back into my life; for dreaming of a life with him: I get saddled with a baby.

    Of course, everyone will think it¡¯s Sean¡¯s, but I¡¯ll know. And how am I going to work out who the father is? How am I going to get out of all of this without losing my mind ¨C or my marriage?

    My brain starts to race, and I begin to put the pieces together in my head. I¡¯m going to have to pull off something big to make this work. Something that might backfire right in my face. But if I don¡¯t try, then my life as I know it is going to fall apart right in front of me.

    And I am not about to let that happen. Not for anything. Not a chance in hell.

 Chapter 22

    I wrap my legs around Sean, pulling him even deeper into me, as I grasp his head and kiss him hard.

    The feeling of his bare cock pounding inside of me is so good that I am almost able to erase why I am doing this in the first place. His tongue in my mouth, I kiss him hard, as hard as I can, and he grabs my hips and pulls me back towards him as he finishes deep inside of me.

    "Fuck," he groans, as I squeeze my thighs around him, holding him in place and letting him take me. He rolls off of me and falls to the side, panting hard.

    "I forgot how much fun trying for a baby could be," he murmurs, as he turns to face me, a playful smile on his face. I grin.

    "Yeah, I know," I agree, and I reach over to brush my fingers through his slightly grown-out hair. I also try to ignore the little twinge of guilt in my belly.

    Sean catches his breath on the bed next to me, and I pull my knees up to my chest, putting on the show of making the effort to conceive. I have no idea if this plan is actually going to work ¨C or if he¡¯s going to see through it. But I have to try.

    After I stopped freaking out about being pregnant, I knew I needed to come up with a game plan. Suddenly, everything became clear: I wanted my husband, not Jason. And I wasn¡¯t going to let this accidental slip-up get in the way of my family. I could have had an abortion, but I knew that I didn¡¯t have it in me ¨C not on top of all the other emotions I was currently feeling.

    The issue, of course, is that the baby doesn¡¯t belong to Sean, and I am not sure how he would feel about raising another man¡¯s baby. His reaction is hard to predict. Anyway, I don¡¯t know if I can bring myself to say the words. So I¡¯ve decided the best course of action is to hold back ¨C and come up with another way to make this pregnancy look like something we both want.

    I took him out for dinner one evening, a date with just the two of us now that everything with the club was behind us, and looked him straight in the eye.

    "I want to try for another baby," I murmured.

    His eyes widened. "You¡¯re sure?¡±

    "More sure than ever. With everything that¡¯s happened, it¡¯s just confirmed that I always want to come back to you, and you always want to come back to me. I want to make our family a little bigger. I think Donnie would be an amazing big brother, don¡¯t you?"

    "We¡¯d have to look for a bigger place," he remarked, his eyes softening as he thought of all the logistics of it. "And I¡¯d have to take on more hours at work..."

    "Do you want to do it?¡± I asked, biting my lip.

    Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, I do.¡± And he leaned across the table to plant a kiss on my lips.

    And it was that kiss that started the most intense lovemaking sessions of my life. The first time, it was a little awkward; I¡¯ll admit. We hadn¡¯t had sex since before Paulo, and we were a bit rusty. But it was also comforting and easy to be with my husband again; like riding a bike. A bike with a very nice cock.

    After that initial time, however, things started to heat up fast. It¡¯s as if our lust for each other has been re-awoken by everything we¡¯ve been through. The desire to have my husband inside of me is more powerful than it¡¯s ever been. Every chance we get, we¡¯re in bed together, fucking, making out, going bareback so that he can get me pregnant. Little does he know, of course, that the early-pregnancy hormones have me crazier than ever for sex.

    He rolls out of bed to head for a shower, and I close my eyes and lie back on the bed. I¡¯m feeling much better compared to how I was a couple weeks ago, when the nausea was just beginning to hit, but maybe that''s because I have a plan to deal with this now.

    How long should I wait before I come clean? I¡¯ve decided to give it a few more days before I suggest he get one of those pregnancy tests that doesn¡¯t indicate how far gone you are. We can take it together and I can act shocked that I am already pregnant with his child. I¡¯ve also been wondering if I should reach out to Jason, tell him the truth of what¡¯s actually happening, but I know I can¡¯t risk that. Any wildcard in this situation is going to make it more dangerous, and I am already skirting the line as it is.

    So I¡¯ve decided to keep it to myself. As far as anyone will know, this baby belongs to me and Sean. It¡¯s going to be raised by him, after all, so what difference does it make that it might not have actually come directly from his DNA?

    It¡¯s a strange thought, that I¡¯ll be bringing another man¡¯s child into our life, but people adopt all the time, don¡¯t they? It¡¯s not that weird. The only weird part is that Sean isn¡¯t going to know he¡¯s not biologically related to his new kid.

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    He comes back to bed and slides in beside me, damp from his shower, and wraps me up in his arms. I snuggle against him.

    "I love you," he murmurs in my ear, and I turn to drop a kiss on his cheek.

    "I love you, too," I reply, and I close my eyes and let tiredness take me.

    We wake early the next morning, sneak in a quick fuck before either of us has to get out of bed, and then go about the rest of our days; I am starting to feel some of that tiredness hitting hard, and I wonder if I should mention it to Sean, sprinkle in the possibility so that he¡¯s not too surprised when he finds out I¡¯m pregnant. It took us such a long time to get pregnant with Donnie, I wonder if he¡¯s going to be suspicious about how fast it happened this time around.

    But I¡¯m counting on the fact that he¡¯s going to be so happy that he won¡¯t even notice. After our adventures outside the marriage, this seems the perfect way to bring both of us back down to Earth and make sure once and for all that we¡¯re committed to each other.

    I am starting to get excited about the thought of a new kid. Sean and I are browsing houses together, now that we know that we¡¯ll need somewhere a little bigger, and I gaze at one with a garden, already imagining our two little ones running around there in the summer. Things have been going so much better at work, since I got the unofficial ¡°project manager¡± position, that we should be able to afford something this spacious. And once I land the Accounting Manager job, then we¡¯ll be golden¡­

    Finally, the day arrives where I¡¯m ready to do it ¨C ready for Sean to find that we are going to be having another baby. I send him out to the pharmacy, the same one where I got my actual test, and wait on the couch for him to get back. We¡¯ve already put Donnie to bed, and I can hardly wait to break the news to Sean.

    He¡¯s going to be such an amazing father, all over again. I already know that. And sure, this might not be how I intended to bring in the next member of our household, but hey, sometimes you¡¯ve got to take what you get, right?

    He arrives back after a half-hour, his cheeks flushed with excitement. I can hardly contain my own ecxitement.

    "You ready?" He asks, and I nod.

    "As I¡¯ll ever be."

    We head to the bathroom together, and I take the test ¨C even though I know what the result is going to be, I still find myself nervous, and I bite my lip and smile at Sean as I sit on the edge of the toilet.

    "How long do we have to wait?¡± He asks, checking the box again impatiently.

    "A couple of minutes, I think. Not long."

    He grabs my hand and squeezes it tight, and I count down the seconds in my head. I still can¡¯t believe that I am actually doing this. It feels crazy, but at the same time like the most natural thing in the world.

    Finally, it¡¯s time to check the test again, and when I do, I see those two lines together once more.

    "Holy shit!" Sean exclaims. "You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re pregnant?"

    "I¡¯m pregnant," I blurt out, and the thrill of being able to share it with him overwhelms everything else for a moment. I practically fall into his arms, and he scoops me up and swings me around. I cling to him and bury my head in his shoulder, letting the feeling of it rush through me.

    "We¡¯re going to have a baby," he murmurs, and he drops me down, cups my face in his hands and gazes into my eyes. "I love you so much," he whispers, and he kisses me ¨C and I know that, despite the fact that he¡¯s aware that we don¡¯t have to try any longer, he¡¯s not ready to give up quite yet.

    He carries me to bed, where the two of us fuck again, holding on to each other like we are the only things that matter, and I tell myself ¨C that''s true. He is the only thing that matters to me. We are the only things that matter, our family together, our life. No matter what else has happened, that¡¯s what it comes back to.

    I lay my head on his chest afterwards and close my eyes, listening to the beat of his heart. He runs his hand down my body to lay it on my stomach. Even though there¡¯s hardly anything to feel yet, I know that he¡¯s imagining the future, the same as I am.

    "I can¡¯t wait to meet them," he remarks. I smile. If this is what the Weekend Club has led us to, then I can¡¯t help but think it¡¯s one of the best ideas I¡¯ve ever heard.

    As he cradles me, something seems to cross his mind, and he lifts his head so that he can look at me properly.

    "Can I ask you something?¡±

    "Of course you can.¡± I feel dreamy, so happy in the face of it all that I don¡¯t have my guard up at all.

    "You think¡­ you know it¡¯s mine, right?¡±

    I fall silent at once. This is the last thing I wanted him to ask. What do I do? Do I lie to him right now, tell him that I know it is? Or do I tell him the truth and potentially ruin this perfect moment, and change the way that he¡¯s going to look at me and this kid forever?

    I knew that it would cross his mind, but I still feel nervous as I lift my head from his chest and look into his eyes, smoothing my hand over his face lightly.

    "Of course it is," I reply, with a laugh. ¡°I¡¯ve always used protection with the other guys. And anyway, do you know how small a window women have to get pregnant? That¡¯s why we¡¯ve been fucking nonstop: to try and get in that window. So of course it¡¯s yours.¡±

    And I¡¯m telling him the truth, I know I am. This baby is going to be raised as his own and that¡¯s all that matters. He¡¯s the baby¡¯s dad, and he has to know that¡¯s the most important thing in this child¡¯s life. He¡¯s an amazing father, and he¡¯ll be an amazing father to this little one, too.

    "Of course it is," he agrees. I lay my head down again, and wrap my arms around him.

    I know that I¡¯m right. All that matters is that we¡¯re together, that he¡¯s going to raise this kid right along with me ¨C that we¡¯re doing this with each other, bringing a new member into our family. Everything that happened with the Weekend Club is behind us now, and that¡¯s how it¡¯s going to stay.

    Even if I¡¯m going to have a little more than memories to take with me, now that it¡¯s over. I cup my hand over my stomach and smile. Sometimes, things don¡¯t work out the way you imagine they will ¨C but these little surprises are what life is all about.

 Chapter 23

    Sean wants to immediately put a pregnancy announcement on social media, but I¡¯m able to hold him off for several weeks. ¡°It¡¯s so easy to miscarry during the first trimester,¡± I tell him several times.

    ¡°But that¡¯s twelve weeks!¡± He complains. ¡°We can¡¯t wait twelve weeks to tell everyone we know that we¡¯re having a baby! Anyway, isn¡¯t it better if people know if you miscarry, so they¡¯ll understand why you¡¯re grieving?¡±

    Of course, I can¡¯t tell him the real reason I don¡¯t want to put a pregnancy announcement on social media. I¡¯m afraid that Jason will see it. True, we don¡¯t follow each other on Instagram or Facebook. I blocked him a long time ago. But we have a lot of mutual friends from Uni. I can¡¯t be sure that the information will get back to him, or how quickly, but I don¡¯t want to risk it. Who knows what he¡¯ll do if he finds out I¡¯m pregnant? I don¡¯t want to be paranoid, but the way he said he¡¯ll see me again has me thinking that he might have wanted something like this to happen.

    But again, I¡¯m being paranoid. And after five weeks, and not a single sign of bleeding, plus good check-ups with my pre-natal physician, I finally give in to Sean¡¯s pleading and let him post on Facebook.

    He takes a photo of us on the couch, Donnie next to us, his hands on my belly and a big smile on his face. Sean¡¯s hand is placed over Donnie¡¯s. The caption reads, Donnie is excited to be a big brother

    It¡¯s a little cheesy, but I let him have it. In fact, I¡¯ve become extremely accommodating ever since I realised I was pregnant. Maybe that¡¯s why I gave in about the post on social media, too. I think it¡¯s the guilt. It weighs in my stomach like a heavy meal I can¡¯t digest. When it¡¯s not just sitting there, tainting every interaction I have with my husband, then it¡¯s twisting in my stomach, making me want to hurl. Sometimes, I¡¯m able to keep it at bay. But more often than not, it¡¯s ever-present. It¡¯s even started to affect my work. I¡¯m more irritable with my new team than I usually would be, and I know I¡¯ve rubbed a couple of people the wrong way. Not that I really care. After all, Julie has been treating everyone in the office like garbage for years, and she¡¯s never been fired or demoted. I¡¯ll be fine.

    As soon as Sean puts the picture up on Facebook, it starts getting likes. I¡¯m actually amazed by how many. For a few hours, I procrastinate at work by refreshing the page, watching as more and more likes and messages of ¡°Congratulations!¡± pour in. Our neighbours Steffan and Meghan both like the post, and Meghan sends me a long, heartfelt message with her and Steffan¡¯s best wishes. To my delight, Maddy and Ewan also comment ¡°Congrats!¡± and Freddy Campbell and his wife Samantha both like the picture. All of these instances give me a familiar surge of power, which I have to force myself to ignore. I¡¯m not in the Weekend Club anymore, and it would be dangerous to indulge in the feelings it gave me. Not after how the Weekend Club has come back to bite me.

    Every time the photo is liked by a mutual friend of mine and Jason¡¯s from Uni, however, my stomach squirms with discomfort. But I try to ignore it. Why would any of them go and tell Jason about my pregnancy? As far as they know, we haven¡¯t been in touch in years and are very over it.

    Unless he told someone¡­?

    But I try to push the thought out of my mind. The pregnancy hormones really are making me lose my mind a little bit.

    I get a bunch of DMs about the baby, and I¡¯m sorting through these several days later when I see that I have a message request. Without thinking, I click into the message requests tab.

    My heart nearly stops.

    It¡¯s from Jason.

    For a moment, I sit frozen in my chair. I¡¯m in my office, but the door is open, and as soon as I can move again, I kick it closed. The last thing I need is Sean coming in here and seeing I have a message from Jason. All I can read so far is ¡°Hey Jazz¡­¡± so I don¡¯t know what it says. But I know this can¡¯t be good.

    With shaking hands, I move the mouse over his message and open it.

    Hey Jazz, it reads.

    I heard through the grapevine that you¡¯re pregnant. Congrats! I had a feeling we were doing something right in Paris ;)

    I think we need to meet and talk. You know why. I wasn¡¯t so happy to hear that you¡¯re telling the world Sean is the father. Is he forcing you to say that, to save his pride? Let¡¯s meet up and discuss what we want to do next. I can help you. Even if it means you need me to help make Sean understand the truth.

    Jason

    Now my whole body is shaking. I can tell from the tone of the email that Jason is angry. He¡¯s pretending to think Sean is forcing me to say the baby is his, as if he doesn¡¯t know full well that I haven¡¯t told Sean the truth. The way he¡¯s offered to ¡®help¡¯ makes me feel sick. He¡¯s manipulating me. It¡¯s clear as day.

    But I don¡¯t know what to do. If I don¡¯t meet with him, he¡¯ll tell Sean the baby isn¡¯t his. That¡¯s clear enough in his final threat: Even if it means you need me to help make Sean understand the truth. It would be easy enough for him to send a message just like this to Sean.

    My palms are sweaty now, and I feel like I might be sick. Slowly, I begin to type a reply.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    When and where do you want to meet?

    I don¡¯t give anything away; not yet. If I¡¯m going to stop him from ruining my marriage and my life, I¡¯m going to have to be very, very careful.

    Jason and I meet in London several days later. I¡¯ve made it clear that I¡¯m not travelling all the way to Manchester ¡°in my condition,¡± and he seems to understand. Mostly, I just want to be on my turf. Feel safe and grounded. Close to Sean. I also have to go into the office tomorrow, for a mandatory in-person meeting, so I have an excuse for why I need to leave and get to bed early, if Jason gets threatening.

    I¡¯m not sure when I became afraid of him. I never was when we first dated. And yet, there¡¯s always been something dark and dominant inside of him; something that likes to get his way, no matter the cost. That¡¯s what he was like when he would become so focused on things that nothing could stand in his way. At first, I didn¡¯t mind, because I had been the focus of his attention. But by the end of our relationship, it had become the booze. That¡¯s why we broke up. He could be a dangerous, angry drunk.

    Of course, none of this was on my mind during our two dates. But now, as I walk up to the bar where we¡¯re meeting, I feel an old, familiar fear creeping through me. It¡¯s how I used to feel when I would meet him for nights out, at the end. That twinge that something was about to go wrong. A night ending in a fight, or worse, an altercation between him and someone else, usually a man he accused of flirting with me.

    All those memories are buzzing through my mind as I enter the bar. A bland, forgettable cocktail bar in West London. I don¡¯t know anyone in this part of town, so no one will recognise me and wonder what I¡¯m doing with a man who isn¡¯t my husband.

    Jason is already at the bar, a whiskey on the rocks sitting in front of him. The moment he sees me, he stands. I cross to him, and he kisses me lightly on the cheek. He smells strongly of liquor, and the feel of his lips on my skin makes me stiffen. Even though we were so intimate so recently, ever since discovering I¡¯m pregnant I feel physically revolted by him.

    ¡°Sit,¡± he commands, pulling out my stool for me. ¡°Are you comfortable? Would you prefer a chair with a back?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say, staring at him bemusedly. ¡°I¡¯m pregnant, Jason, not an invalid.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± He sits back down next to me and smiles. ¡°I just want to make sure our baby is safe.¡± The look is cold and calculating, but I can¡¯t help but notice that there is something foggy and unfocused about his eyes. He¡¯s drunk, I realise. Drunker than I¡¯ve seen him since we were in Uni.

    ¡°Sean¡¯s and my baby,¡± I correct him. Surreptitiously, I glance around, to make sure no one has overheard us. ¡°My husband is the father of this child, Jason.¡±

    Jason¡¯s smile slips slightly. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, .Jazz. The baby has to be mine. You said you and Sean hadn¡¯t been intimate in months.¡±

    Inwardly, I curse myself for admitting this to Jason in a moment of weakness. ¡°Yes, but after we quit the Weekend Club, we decided to start trying for a second child,¡± I say, squaring my shoulders. ¡°And now we¡¯re pregnant.¡±

    Jason leans towards me, and I feel like the prey of a giant cobra, readying himself to strike. Without asking, he slips a hand onto my knee. ¡°I know it¡¯s mine, Jazz. And I¡¯m willing to go to court to get a paternity test. Is that what you want? A long, protracted legal battle? Will your husband really stay with you during that, as everyone in your life discovers that you and your husband have been sleeping with other people?¡±

    His hand tightens on my leg, and I feel sick. I want to pull my leg away, but his grip is too strong. ¡°What do you want?¡± I whisper.

    He releases me, then sits back in his seat. The cold smile is back on his lips. ¡°I want to be with you. I want to raise our child together. Isn¡¯t that obvious, Jazz? It¡¯s you. It¡¯s always been you. I let you get away before, and I have regretted it ever since. Now that you¡¯re back in my life, I¡¯d do anything ¨C anything ¨C to make sure I don¡¯t lose you again.¡±

    My throat has gone very dry. A couple of weeks ago, this would have been the most romantic declaration in the world. Now it¡¯s the scariest thing I¡¯ve ever heard. He¡¯s willing to do anything? What does that even mean?

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying if I don¡¯t tell my husband--lie to my husband--that the baby is yours, you¡¯re going to ruin my marriage and sue me for paternity? And you think, what, that I¡¯ll want to be with you at the end of that?¡±

    Jason spreads his hands wide in mock contrition. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to ruin your marriage. I¡¯m just stating the reality, which is that I¡¯m the father of your child, and as such, I have certain rights. But I¡¯d prefer not to go to court, of course. I¡¯d much rather we just figure this out between us. As a couple.¡±

    ¡°But we aren¡¯t a couple,¡± I snap. Anger is beginning to boil in my stomach, replacing the fear, and I can hear my voice growing louder and more shrill. ¡°I¡¯m married, to the love of my life, by the way. He and I are the only couple. You and I are exes who reconnected through a dating site my husband and I both consented to be part of.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t love you like I do,¡± Jason says, and now he is no longer pretending to smile. His mouth is a thin line, and his nostrils are flaring. ¡°He can¡¯t give you what I¡¯m capable of giving you. Tell me you didn¡¯t love our weekend in Paris, Jazz. Would he have done that for you?¡±

    ¡°That weekend in Paris was just that ¨C a weekend,¡± I snap. ¡°It wasn¡¯t real life. You can¡¯t build a relationship off of romance and glamorous trips abroad. It¡¯s built on¡­¡± I cast around for the right words, and as I realise what I¡¯m about to say, a lump suddenly forms in my throat. It¡¯s true, I¡¯m realising. After all these months of being distracted by the Weekend Club,You can¡¯t threaten me! I¡¯ve told my husband we had sex, and he won¡¯t believe for a second that I didn¡¯t use protection with you. He trusts me. Because we have a real, trusting, longterm relationship. Not some delusional idea of love, like you have.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call my delusional.¡± The smile is gone from Jason¡¯s face now. Glancing away, he seizes his whiskey and drains the rest of it, setting it back on the counter with a loud crack. When he looks back at me, his face is red and contorted. ¡°I¡¯ve never been delusional. Not when it comes to us.¡±

    I¡¯m very afraid now. This is how Jason used to get when he drank too much: belligerent. He told me he¡¯d overcome his drinking problems, but clearly, that was a lie. Or else I bring them out in him in a way no one else does.

    However, despite my fear, I know I can¡¯t show weakness. He¡¯ll only seize on that to break me down. That¡¯s how it was when he got drunk and angry back in Uni. So I level him with my most disdainful look and force myself to my feet.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re acting delusional now,¡± I say. ¡°You have no right to this baby, and no right to me. If you come near me or my family again, I will take out a restraining order. Do you understand?¡±

    Jason stares at me, his lip curling. When he doesn¡¯t respond, I grab my handbag and begin to walk away. It isn¡¯t until I reach the door that he calls after me, ¡°You can¡¯t keep my child from me, Jazz. I won¡¯t let you.¡±

    The entire bar hears him, and heads turn in our direction as a quiet buzz of whispers fill the place. My cheeks hot with shame and anger, I pull open the door and run as fast as I dare away from the bar, Jason, and the dark truth.

 Chapter 24

    I¡¯m still furious the next day, when I arrive at the office building for the mandatory in-person staff meeting. It¡¯s a strange feeling, being inside of this building. I haven¡¯t been here in more than six months, when I started working remotely. I instinctively keep worrying about Donnie, wondering if he¡¯s safe, even though Sean is home with him. It¡¯s just a weird adjustment to get used to not being so close to my kid and husband all day long.

    Although truthfully, it was better for me to get away from them this morning. I¡¯ve been in a foul mood since I got home last night. I told Sean I¡¯d had a fight with a friend and didn¡¯t elaborate. He tried to comfort me, but I felt so guilty and disgusted with myself that I couldn¡¯t let him touch me. Same with Donnie. When I saw him last night, all I could think was what a spitting image of his father he is, and how the child I¡¯m carrying won¡¯t look anything like Sean. What if Sean can tell right away? What if the kid grows up to look like Jason and Sean realises what happened? What if he starts to hate the son he¡¯s raised as his own? What if he divorces me?

    I ended up locking myself in the bathroom and rage-crying for half an hour, then lying catatonic on my bed, unable to move. Jason¡¯s words kept swirling through my head: I¡¯d do anything ¨C anything ¨C to make sure I don¡¯t lose you again.

    As they echoed through me, I vacillated between fear, depression and anger. But this morning, it¡¯s anger that has won out. Anger and pure rage.

    Jason might be willing to do anything to get me back, but I¡¯m also willing to do whatever it takes to protect my family.

    As I take the lift up to the fifteenth floor, where my office is located, I try to push these thoughts from my mind. Around me, colleagues I know vaguely from Zoom are chatting happily, and the lift is abuzz with excitement. The general atmosphere is of a party; it must be exciting to have all the remote workers in the office. The company has even rented out the backroom of an Italian restaurant down the street for us to go to after, for dinner and drinks. I wish I could feel as enthused as everyone else, but it¡¯s hard when thoughts of Jason and the baby keep butting into my mind.

    Up on the fifteenth floor, I follow the familiar corridors to my office. Unlocking it, I enter to find the place just how I left it: tidy, with pictures of Donnie and Sean on my desk and taped to the filing cabinet. There¡¯s a thin layer of dust on the desk and computer monitor, but otherwise is unchanged. When I started working remotely, I thought I¡¯d come in a couple days a week, just to stay connected with all my colleagues. But I only went in once, right at the beginning, and never went back. Working from home in my pyjamas was just too easy and convenient.

    After switching on the lights, I settle into my desk chair and look around the office. I still have fifteen minute until the All Staff meeting begins, which should give me enough time to clear my head and try to rid myself of the anger that it currently preoccupying every inch of me. I need to get my head in the game. I¡¯ll be presenting about the newest audit, and Steve is expecting me to make a good impression on the top brass. He¡¯s put in a good word for me, after all.

    But before I can even begin to clear my mind, there¡¯s a sharp rap on the door, and I look up to see Julie standing in the doorway.

    At once, my stomach plummets. If Julie has come seeking me out, right before the meeting, then I know this can¡¯t be good. She¡¯d only come here to try and sabotage me.

    ¡°Do you have a minute, Jazz?¡± She asks. She doesn¡¯t wait for my response. Coming into the room, she closes the door behind her with a definitive snap. Up close, Julia is shorter than I remember, and less pretty. There are lines around her eyes and mouth, and on her forehead, that Zoom smoothes out with its filters. She looks old and tired, if I¡¯m being honest, and for one vindictive moment, I feel thankful for my relative youth and good looks.

    ¡°What can I help you with, Julie?¡± I ask, leaning back in my chair in a way I hope projects cool indifference.

    Julia takes another step towards me. ¡°I know it was you,¡± she says, her voice so quiet I almost don¡¯t hear it. Despite this, her words are sharp with anger, and I feel myself bristle in response.

    ¡°It was me, what?¡± I snap.

    ¡°I know it was you who started the rumour about my husband.¡±

    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, Julie.¡±

    ¡°Yes you do. The rumour that my husband had an affair? Even if you didn¡¯t start it, I know you heard it. You¡¯d love to see me humiliated, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    I try to feign incredulousness. ¡°You¡¯re the one who enjoyed humiliating me, Julie,¡± I say, spreading my hands wide. ¡°I¡¯ve only ever respected you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit and you know it.¡± Julie¡¯s nostrils flare. ¡°You¡¯ve been after my job for months. You¡¯re a snake, and you know it. Worst of all, you¡¯re terrible at your job, but you¡¯ve somehow managed to ingratiate yourself with Steve and trick him into thinking you¡¯re something other than the lazy, mediocre accountant I know you to be. You probably slept with him, or at least sent him some dirty texts, to get him under your thumb, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    I stare at Julie, hardly believing what I¡¯m hearing. ¡°What the fuck? Of course I didn¡¯t! How can you even -¡±

    ¡°Because that¡¯s what whores like you do.¡± Julie takes another step towards me, and I¡¯m suddenly afraid. She¡¯s not as threatening as Jason was, but she¡¯s still standing and I¡¯m sitting. It makes the power balance feel all of.

    ¡°You have no right to speak to me that way,¡± I snarl, pushing myself to my feet.

    ¡°Oh, but I do. You¡¯re the one who started the rumour about my husband, and I know why.¡±

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t,¡± I say forcefully. ¡°I¡¯m sorry someone started that rumour, but it wasn¡¯t me.¡±

    Julie¡¯s lip curls. ¡°Mark told me everything, Jazz. He told me that he met you as part of the Weekend Club. So you see, I know it had to be you. No one else knows we belong to that app except for you, because you fucked my husband.¡±

    So she knows. My head is pounding, and my mouth has gone dry. She knows. But so what? She can¡¯t do anything about it. If she tells people, then she has to admit that she is part of the app, too. I suppose she could say that I simply had an affair with Mark after meeting him at the company Christmas party, but then I would reveal the truth. Although either way, it would make me look bad. It would make both of us look bad. Maybe that¡¯s how I¡¯ll play it¡­ mutually assured destruction.

    I jut my chin out and stare back at Julie, defiant. ¡°So what if I did sleep with him? It doesn¡¯t mean I told anyone. Maybe he told someone, and it got around. But if you tell anyone about it, I¡¯m going to tell them you¡¯re part of the Weekend Club, too.¡±

    To my surprise, Julie laughs. It¡¯s a cold sound and sends a shiver down my spine. ¡°Oh, Jazz. Jazzy Jazz Jazz. I¡¯m not here to threaten you. I¡¯m not going to tell anyone that you screwed my husband.¡±

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    ¡°Then¡­ why are you here?¡± I ask uncertainly.

    ¡°To inform you that I had my revenge.¡± For a moment, I am gripped with fear, imagining what she might have done to ruin my relationship with Steve and my chances at getting the promotion. But what she says is much, much worse. ¡°You see, while you were screwing my husband, I was fucking yours. You have a nice man, there. Sean¡¯s a good lover. And he very much enjoyed fucking the brains out of the woman who controls your fate at work. The woman you hate so much.¡±

    It is as if I am seeing red. I¡¯ve never understood that expression before, until now. The whole room dims, then goes shades of pink, and a surge of energy and rage flows through me. I feel as if I could leap over my desk and rip Julie¡¯s head from her shoulders. She fucked Sean?! Sean fucked her?! Sean went on a date with the woman I hate most in the world, after badgering me that it was a bad idea for me to go on a date with her husband? He fucked my boss??

    ¡°I know this is probably hard for you to hear,¡± Julie is saying from a long ways off. ¡°But you should know: no matter how far you climb in this company, I will always have screwed your husband all night long, so that he was so drained that he couldn¡¯t summon any words, let alone any memories of you. Do you understand, Jazz? I had your husband, and I¡¯ll always have you.¡±

    The horror of it all washes through me again, and I feel like I am going to be sick. Combined with the morning sickness, I am surprised that I don¡¯t vomit all over my desk. Instead, as I stare at the self-satisfied, vindictive smirk on Julie¡¯s face, I am filled with a rage I have never felt before.

    Rage at Julie, for making my work life a living hell these past few years, and now inserting herself into my private life to ruin that as well. Rage at Sean, for fucking the woman I hate most in the world, knowing full well how much like a betrayal that would feel. Rage at Jason, for how powerless he has made me feel, for threatening me. Which makes me rage again at Sean. I was trying to protect him and our children by standing up to Jason, and for what? He betrayed me. He doesn¡¯t deserve my protection. And then, of course, rage again at Julie, for coming into my office right before the meeting and making sure I can think about nothing other than my husband¡¯s cock inside of her.

    And then all of the anger that has been boiling inside of me since I realised I was pregnant and would have to lie to Sean comes to a head. It hits me full in the face, as hard and as fast as a train, and all of it, all the anxiety, fear, guilt, shame, and fury, burst out of me. I don¡¯t leap over the desk, but I move so quickly that Julie doesn¡¯t have a chance to respond.

    Within seconds, I have hurtled around the desk and grabbed her by the hair. She lets out a scream as I yank down, her whole body crumbling before me, and she falls to the ground. I am on top of her in an instant. It flashes through my mind that I should punch her, but somehow, I can¡¯t seem to ball my hands into a fist. Instead, I keep pulling her hair with one hand, and with the other I dig my fingers into her cheek. I am making growling, grunting noises, and they sound animalistic and inhuman, even to me.

    Even though I am on top of her, Julie begins to fight back. Her hands reach up and grab me around the throat, half choking me and half pushing me away. I only push down harder, my legs straddling hers, and her fast twists with rage and pain.

    ¡°Get the fuck off me you stupid bitch!!!!¡± She screams, and I respond by slapping her harder across the face. She lets out another wail, and now tears are streaming down her cheeks. When I see them, I hesitate for a second, and it costs me. She¡¯s able to push me backward, and I lose my balance. Seconds later, hands are seizing me from behind, and someone is pulling me off of Julie.

    ¡°Stop, Jazz, stop!!¡± I hear a man shout. ¡°You¡¯re hurting her!¡±

    But I don¡¯t listen or go easily. Even as his strong hands pull me back, I continue to kick and wave my arms violently, screaming incoherently as I do. Julia falls back onto the floor and curls into a ball, sobbing now, her hands over her face.

    ¡°That¡¯s right, pretend to be the fucking victim now!¡± I screch, the first real words I¡¯ve said since I attacked her, and I hear the person holding me gasp.

    Then there are the sounds of people running, or shouts or concern, of voices filling up the room, and I look around to see half a dozen of my colleagues pouring into the room, shocked and confused looks on their faces.

    The sight of them calms me slightly, and I go limp in my captor¡¯s arms. Looking up, I see that it¡¯s Andy who has his arms locked around me.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Someone says, as several others rush to Julie¡¯s side. They kneel by her, murmuring soft, comforting words, and she eventually lowers her hands and looks up at them, tears still staining her cheeks.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Julie, don¡¯t worry,¡± one of them murmurs. ¡°Andy¡¯s got her now. It¡¯s going to be okay.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± A man I recognise only by sight asks, glancing from Julie¡¯s tear-streaked face to mine.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly,¡± I hear Andy say. ¡°I saw them talking through the glass, and then Jazz just attacked her! Unprovoked!¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t unprovoked!¡± I snarl, and everyone looks at me, then looks away quickly. It¡¯s like I¡¯m some sort of disgusting, polluted lepe that they can¡¯t bear to make eye contact with. ¡°She said¡­ she¡­¡± But I don¡¯t know what to say. I can¡¯t tell them she fucked my husband without admitting that I had sex with hers, too. And then everyone will know that I¡¯m the one who started the rumour about Mark. ¡°She¡¯s been bullying me for months!¡± I say instead.

    ¡°Then you should have reported it to HR!¡± A woman who works in another department snaps at me. ¡°Instead of resorting to violence!¡±

    ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you, Jazz?¡± Another woman, who has often seen Julie bully me, asks. She¡¯s glaring daggers at me.

    ¡°You¡¯ve seen how she treats me!¡± I shout, almost pleadingly, staring at her.

    She just looks disgusted. ¡°And yet, you still managed to become a project manager running your own audit. You¡¯re unbelievable.¡±

    Julie whimpers on the floor again, and everyone turns to look at her.

    ¡°We should call an ambulance,¡± the first man says. ¡°Just in case she really hurt her.¡±

    Someone pulls out a mobile phone and dials 911. I hear them talking to the operator as if from a great distance. More and more people are arriving in the hall outside my office, trying to find out what the commotion is all about. I hear gasps and horrified whispers, and I close my eyes and try to block it all out. The rage is still so strong that I¡¯m not able to feel guilty or regretful about what I¡¯ve done. In fact, if Andy would let go of me, I would take another go at Julie.

    But he doesn¡¯t. He holds onto me tight, never once slackening his grip. He must like this; having power over me, after how I used my power as project manager to get him to start the rumour.

    And he keeps holding onto me until Steve arrives. I know it¡¯s coming from the way the people outside of the office grow quiet and stop fidgeting. Then Steve steps into the office and takes in the scene with cool, calm eyes. But despite his poker face, I can see a vein in his temple bulging.

    ¡°What happened here?¡± Steve asks. He looks between everyone in the room, as if unsure who has the right answer.

    From the floor, Julie speaks. ¡°She attacked me.¡± Her voice is shaky, and the look on her face is one of pure hatred. She raises a hand and points at me. ¡°She¡¯s crazy.¡±

    Steve turns to me, and the look on his face is unreadable. It¡¯s almost as if he wants me to deny it. ¡°Is that true, Jazz? You attacked Julie?¡±

    Slowly, I nod. There¡¯s no point in pretending otherwise. There were witnesses.

    His forehead knits together. ¡°Why? Why would you do something like that?¡±

    But I don¡¯t know how to answer. There¡¯s no way to explain. I merely stare at him, mute, my jaw set, until his shoulders slump and he turns away.

    ¡°You¡¯re fired, Jazz,¡± he says, very softly. I almost don¡¯t hear him. ¡°Leave now, leave all your things, we¡¯ll have someone mail them to you. I expect you¡¯ll be hearing from our attorneys as well. Now get out.¡±

    Andy releases me at last, and I take a step towards the desk. The whole room tenses, as if they¡¯re expecting me to attack all of them. But I just grab my handbag from the desk, brushing close to Julie as I do, who doesn¡¯t look at me. Then, without making eye contact with anyone, I turn and leave the room. The people outside part to let me through. Some art starting to whisper again. A few have their phones out, and I know they¡¯re live streaming. It only makes me angrier, and I have to hold myself back from ripping the phones out of their hands.

    There¡¯s no one else in the lift, thank God. Panic is starting to gather at the edges of my vision as I stand in the small metal box, hurtling towards the ground. I¡¯ve lost my job. I might lose my husband. He could take custody of Donnie if the courts think I¡¯m violent. But panic won¡¯t help me now. I need to stay angry; stay justified.

    An ambulance is pulling into the car park as I step outside, its sirens echoing loudly against the concrete buildings. For a brief moment I remember what Donnie went to the hospital, and I feel another shudder of anger.

    This is all the fault of the Weekend Club. None of it would have happened if not for that app.

 Chapter 25

    Have your parents pick up Donnie, I text Sean on the way home. I need to talk to you about something and it¡¯s not good.

    He texts back right away. Are you okay?

    I don¡¯t bother to lie. No, I¡¯m not. I don¡¯t want Donnie home to see this.

    Sean doesn¡¯t reply for several minutes. Then all he texts back is, OK.

    By the time I arrive back home, the apartment is quiet, and I know Donnie is at Sean¡¯s parents¡¯. Even in my blind fury, I know it wouldn¡¯t be good for him to overhear the fight Sean and I are about to have. He might be old enough to understand some of the accusations I¡¯m going to make.

    Sean is waiting for me in the living room. He stands up the moment I walk through the door and hurries toward me.

    ¡°Jazz? Are you okay?¡± But he stops before he reaches me. Something about the look on my face must tell him that I do not want to be comforted right now. I want to rage.

    ¡°I was fired.¡± The words sound heavy and flat as I say them. Sean¡¯s eyes grow wide, but otherwise he doesn¡¯t move. ¡°I was fired, and they might be pressing charges as well.¡±

    ¡°Wh-what?¡± Sean¡¯s mouth has fallen open. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°I had a fight with Julie.¡±

    ¡°A fight? Why might they bring charges?¡±

    ¡°I assaulted Julie,¡± I correct myself. Then I laugh, a littl manically.

    Sean goes very pale. ¡°Did she find out you slept with her husband? I told you not to do it, Jazz! I told you it could put your job and our financial security at risk!¡±

    ¡°She already knew. I didn¡¯t have to tell her.¡±

    Sean blinks. ¡°So her husband told her. Still, it amounts to the same thing. You shouldn¡¯t have done it. Jesus, Jazz, I don¡¯t understand why you had to do something so foolish, just for your own gratification. Fuck!¡± He turns and throws a punch into the back of the sofa, then leans over it, hanging his head. ¡°Fuck! What are we going to do? We have a baby on the way, and now just one income.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve had one income for a long time, while you were unemployed,¡± I sneer.

    Sean turns back around to face me. ¡°You know that my income is half of yours. How are we supposed to survive on the salary of a bar manager alone? With two children? And this flat? We were looking at bigger houses, now we¡¯re going to have to look at smaller ones.¡±

    ¡°Well maybe you should have thought about that before you put my job and our financial security at risk by sleeping with Julie.¡±

    The silence that follows this is absolute. Sean stands, frozen, by the couch, staring at me. I¡¯m not even sure what I want him to say. Do I want an apology? A denial? For him to fall on his knees in front of me and beg my forgiveness? Because if he does, I won¡¯t give it. And that would be the most satisfying feeling of all; to deny forgiveness to the person who needs it most.

    It¡¯s a lot how I feel about myself these days: unable to forgive myself for all my mistakes.

    ¡°So she told you,¡± Sean says at last. ¡°She promised me she wouldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You fucking asshole!¡± My scream reverberates around the room, and the next second I¡¯ve grabbed a chair from the dining room table and flung it as hard as I can onto the ground. It smashes against the floor and breaks, the wood cracking and splintering. ¡°You slept with the woman I hate most in the world! How could you do that to me? WHY would you do that to me? Do you secretly hate me too, Sean? Do you resent that I was the breadwinner, that your wife was the breadwinner, while you were unemployed? Did you want to feel like a real man again? Or do you just not care about my feelings AT ALL?¡±

    Sean puts his head in his hands. For a moment, I think he¡¯s crying. Then he looks back up, and there¡¯s a desperation there that scares me deeply. ¡°I was just trying to do what you wanted, Jazz!¡± He shouts. ¡°You wanted to be in the Weekend Club! You wanted to sleep with other people. You wanted to spice up our marriage! I would have been happy just continuing on as we had been, being a happy, normal family.¡±

    I take a threatening step toward my husband. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare put this on me!¡± I snarl. ¡°You wanted this as well. You agreed to it. You were excited. Enthusiastic. Don¡¯t you dare try to rewrite the narrative now, to make it suit you.¡±

    ¡°Well what was I supposed to say? My wife wanted to fuck other men!¡±

    ¡°You wanted to fuck other women too, you fucking hypocrite!¡±

    Sean stares at me, incredulous. ¡°I¡¯m the hypocrite?! You¡¯re the one who fucked Julie¡¯s husband. But you¡¯re angry at me for fucking her?! When you did it first?¡±

    ¡°Fucking Mark was supposed to hurt Julie!¡± I scream. ¡°Not the person I¡¯m married to; not the person I¡¯m supposed to love most in the world!¡± I take a deep, shuddering breath, and try to restore some equilibrium to my system. It doesn¡¯t work. ¡°You purposefully slept with someone I hated, someone you knew would hurt me. And you knew it! That¡¯s why you asked her not to tell you!¡±

    Sean throws his hands up into the air. ¡°Well maybe I wanted to do something as selfish and stupid as you were doing! I mean, have you ever stopped to think about how your actions affect me? Sleeping with your boss¡¯s husband, sleeping with your friends¡¯ husbands¡­ it could ruin our lives! It is ruining our lives!¡±

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    ¡°You¡¯re the one who ruined our lives,¡± I spit at him. ¡°You¡¯re the one who slept with the last person you knew I¡¯d ever want you to. You betrayed me, Sean. In the worst way possible.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re unbelievable!¡± Sean shouts. His fist comes down now on the wall, and several picture frames on the mantle rattle. ¡°Ever since we started the Weekend Club, you¡¯ve disapepared! You haven¡¯t been present in this family or in our marriage. You¡¯ve completely taken me and Donnie for granted. You and I haven¡¯t had sex until recently. I mean, come on Jazz! You think I betrayed you by sleeping with Julie? You betrayed me by checking out of our family so that you could run around the country having sex with random men. You¡¯ve been so selfish, so preoccupied, and I¡¯ve felt completely abandoned. So yeah, if I want to find a way to enjoy myself in all of this, I have the right to do that! Because you don¡¯t seem to care about my feelings at all. Why should I care about yours?¡±

    ¡°And you think I don¡¯t have reason to be selfish?¡± I explode, stamping my foot onto the ground with all my might. ¡°I might have been checked out since the Weekend Club started, but you¡¯ve been checked out for months before that! After you lost your job, you stopped trying at all. And you saddled me with all the financial pressure rof keeping our family afloat.¡±

    ¡°I was fired!¡± Sean yells. His face is turning bright red. ¡°Have you ever thought about how depressed and humiliated I must have felt?¡±

    ¡°And yet you didn¡¯t look for a new job!¡± I scream. ¡°You just sat around the house being morose. Meanwhile, I¡¯ve been putting up with a job I hate and a manager who bullies me, all without your help, because I¡¯m the sole earner in the family. So yeah, maybe I did get a bit selfish with the Weekend Club. But I deserved it. I deserve a real man who is going to take care of things, who is going to support me, sweep me off my feet. A man like Jason.¡±

    ¡°Jason?¡± Sean scoffs. ¡°What does that alcoholic tornado have to do with this?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve been sleeping with him.¡±

    There is a deafening silence as this news hits Sean. ¡°Wh-what?¡± He stammers. ¡°You¡¯re having an affair?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not having an affair,¡± I snap. ¡°He¡¯s part of the Weekend Club. We matched. And I spent my last two dates with him.¡±

    ¡°Wh--but you¡¯re not supposed to do that! You¡¯re supposed to go on different with different people. Not start dating your ex again!¡±

    ¡°Well Jason was the person I wanted to go on the dates with! He took me to Paris on my last date, for the whole weekend, and it was the most romantic experience of my entire life. He bought me an entirely new wardrobe--he¡¯s rich now, a defense attorney--and took me to dinner in Montmarte and then to the Moulin Rouge. He did things for me that you never have, even when we were first dating. He made me feel seen and appreciated and not stressed out for the first time in months. Best of all? He made me feel like I didn¡¯t have to be the responsible one, which was pretty nice, after months of feeling like I had two children, instead of a child and a husband.¡±

    Sean is staring at me, open-mouthed. He doesn¡¯t seem capable of speech. Finally, he manages to whisper, ¡°I can¡¯t believe you had sex with him. You knew I wouldn¡¯t like it! Jason isn¡¯t just some strange, or even friend¡¯s husband, to show you something new and exciting. You loved him!¡±

    ¡°Well, he certainly showed me adventure. And the best sex of my life.¡± It¡¯s a cruel thing to say, but I no longer seem to care if I hurt my husband. I want him to feel as much pain as I am currently feeling.

    But that¡¯s when the fight goes out of him. He stares at me, then he sinks slowly onto the couch. ¡°The baby¡­¡± he mutters. ¡°The baby is his, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    I don¡¯t answer. All the air seems to have gone out of my lungs. Sean seems to take this as assent. He lowers his head into his hands. For a long time, he sits there, and I am pretty sure he¡¯s crying. I can¡¯t move; can¡¯t think; can¡¯t say anything to comfort him.

    At last, Sean looks up. ¡°I¡¯m such a fool,¡± he says. ¡°Months of no sex, then suddenly you want to try for a baby. I should have known right away. But I trusted you. That¡¯s the thing about love. It makes you blind.¡±

    He stands up, crosses the sitting room, and pushes past me.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± I ask, as I turn and watch him grabbing his wallet and keys from the ceramic bowl on the hall table where he always keeps them. These familiar gestures; are they all that is left of love?

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he says. His voice sounds hollow and emotionless. ¡°Out. To think.¡±

    ¡°Please, please don¡¯t go,¡± I hear myself saying. I grab at Sean¡¯s shirt, to try to keep him with me, but he wrenches it out of my grasp. ¡°Please, Sean, I¡¯m so sorry, I¡¯m so sorry, I didn¡¯t know what to do. I¡¯ve made a terrible mistake, and everything in my life fell apart because of it, I just didn¡¯t want to hurt you, I couldn¡¯t bear the thought of hurting you. Please, please don¡¯t leave. Please don¡¯t go.¡± I am crying, I realise. All the anger and fear are leaking out of me in the form of tears, and suddenly I am filled with shame and guilt like I never have been. I can¡¯t believe I assaulted Julie. I can¡¯t believe I got fired. And all because of this terrible secret I¡¯d been carrying inside myself. All because of my own shame and self-loathing.

    ¡°Let me go, Jazz,¡± Sean says, backing away from me. He fumbles with the door handle, then opens it, and practically falls out into the hallway. Before I can follow him, he slams the door behind him.

    Slowly, I sink to my knees. My tears have become racking sobs, and for long minutes, I kneel on the floor of our apartment, rocking back and forth, sobbing. Everything is lost. My job. My reputation. My moral compass. My husband. My marriage. Maybe even my child, if Sean decides to divorce me and take full custody.

    Everything is lost, and it¡¯s all my fault. I have no one else to blame. Not Julie. Not Sean. Not even Jason. It¡¯s all me. I¡¯m the one who made these terrible decisions and ended up here, having hurt the person I love most in the world.

    Sometime later--I¡¯m not sure how long--I drag myself off the bed and to the sofa. There, I lay in a fetal position, and wait for Sean to return. The tears have stopped, and the saltwater leaves crusted stains on my cheeks. I don¡¯t bother to wipe them away or wash them off. The sky slowly turns from bright to softer and warmer, and I guess it is now mid-afternoon. Sean has been gone for several hours.

    I¡¯m just starting to drift off when I hear a sharp knock at the door. It jolts me awake, and I sit bolt upright. For a moment, I think it¡¯s Sean. Then I remember he has his keys. I make my way to the door and am about to answer it when I freeze. What if it¡¯s Jason? The thought turns my stomach. Maybe he¡¯s stalking me, waiting for when my husband is gone, and now is going to try to force himself on me?

    As quietly as I can, I check through the peephole. It isn¡¯t Jason. It¡¯s two police officers, grim expression on their faces.

    My heart sinks. Julie, or perhaps Steve, is pressing charges. They¡¯ve come to arrest me. I could pretend I¡¯m not here, but then they¡¯ll come back, maybe when Donnie here, and he¡¯ll have to watch his mother getting arrested. It¡¯s better to answer now, to get this over with.

    With a heavy heart, I pull open the door.

    ¡°Hello?¡± I say, rather tentatively. ¡°How can I help you?¡±

    Both officers are male. The taller one, who is blonde, clears his throat. ¡°Are you Jazz Jones?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s me,¡± I force myself to say. My heart is pounding in my throat, and I feel like I might be sick.

    ¡°Mrs. Jones, we have some bad news. About an hour ago, your husband Sean Jones was killed in a hit-and-run about three blocks from here. We¡¯re going to need you to come with us, so that you can identify the body.¡±

    I almost laugh. Is this a joke? Has Julie devised this as a way to punish me even further, before the cops arrest me? But as I stare between the two cops, who are both gazing at me with pitiful expression, I realise, with a sickening jolt, that this is not a joke.

    My husband is dead. And this, too, is my fault.

 Chapter 26

    The next few hours pass in a blur of surrealness and shock. Am I really here? Is this really happening? Despite what my senses tell me, it¡¯s hard to believe that this still isn¡¯t a terrible joke, or a nightmare, that I will soon wake up from.

    The police officers take me to the morgue. I have to identify the body. Halfway there, in the back of their cruiser, I start screaming that I left my son alone, unattended. The cops are halfway back to my house before I remember he¡¯s at his grandparents¡¯.

    I don¡¯t remember arriving at the morgue, or making my way downstairs. I do remember the smell. Antiseptic, death, and pickles. I learn later that this is the formaldehyde. What I do remember is the mortician opening the drawer and pulling out my husband. Sean.

    He is grayer than I remember, and smaller. It is like in death, some of his structure and mass have left him. If I didn¡¯t know better, I would think he was a doll, or a wax figure at Madame Toussaud¡¯s. I want to push my finger into his arm, to check that it is really flesh there. But I don¡¯t. Instead I laugh. The cops must think I¡¯m insane, but they don¡¯t say anything. The mortician looks at me calmly. No doubt he¡¯s seen this kind of thing before.

    ¡°Is this Sean Leonard Jones?¡± He asks.

    I don¡¯t know how I answer, but they all seem satisfied, so I must have responded in the affirmative. What I don¡¯t say is: no. That is not my husband. But that¡¯s the truth.

    When we come up out of the morgue, the light seems brighter than it did before. It blinds me, and as I put a hand up to shield my eyes, I stumble. One of the cops catches me.

    We must drive to the police station next, because that¡¯s the next thing I¡¯m cognizant of. Sitting in the waiting room of the station. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve just woken up from a nap, except I know I had to be awake in order to get here. My phone is in my hand, and when I look down at it, I see I¡¯m in the middle of texting my mum.

    I¡¯ve written, Can you keep Donnie a little longer? Something¡¯s come up.

    Of course, my mum has written back. Everything okay?

    I responded with a Thumbs Up emoji.

    I have no memory of any of this.

    The waiting room is empty, and I stand and walk up to the woman behind the counter. ¡°Excuse me, but can you tell me what I¡¯m doing here?¡± I ask her. My voice is very calm, but she still looks surprised and a little suspicious.

    ¡°The inspectrors will be ready to interview you in a couple of minutes, love,¡± she says, finally seeming to decide that I¡¯m harmless. ¡°Why don¡¯t you sit down? I can get you a cup of tea, if you¡¯d like.¡±

    I nod, and she¡¯s just brought me a cup of tea in a styrofoam cup when the same police officers who came to the house open a door from the back and come into the waiting room, very serious looks on their faces.

    ¡°Jazz Jones?¡± One asks, as he approaches me. ¡°We¡¯re ready for you now.¡±

    He¡¯s speaking very gently, and when I struggle to get up, he helps me to my feet.

    Inside the briefing room, the cops gets down to brass tacks very quickly. They keep asking me where I was, what had happened that day, and if I knew anyone who would have a grudge against us.

    I¡¯m at a loss as to how to answer. Every question leaves me gagging for air. How can I explain to these men what our life was like? I tell them I¡¯d lost my job, but don¡¯t go into the specifics about my fight with Julie. I just say that she had been harassing me for a long time at work.

    ¡°So you have just lost your job, you came home, got in a fight with your husband, and he went out on a walk?¡± One of the cops clarifies.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I whisper. ¡°And then¡­ and then¡­¡± I look up at them, my eyes swimming with teras for the first time. ¡°You said it was a hit-and-run? Did you see the car that did it?¡±

    ¡°There were a few witnesses,¡± one of them says. ¡°None of them saw the actual hit-and-run, but a few saw a black SUV driving erratically, speeding, through the streets, just after.¡±

    ¡°Did they get the license plate?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, no. But we have CCTV in the area. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll find it.¡±

    Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll find it. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll find the man who murdered your husband. Who left you a widow, pregnant and with a five-year-old.

    ¡°I want to ask you again, Mrs Jones: do you know anyone who might have wished your husband harm?¡±

    I look up into the calm, patient eyes of the cop, and a pain scissors through my stomach. I gasp, and the two officers start in surprise. Smiling weakly, I try to shrug it off. Then it hits me again, like someone cutting through me, from the inside out. Like the baby is trying to burst from me, Alien-style. Placing a hand against my stomach, I try not to cry out as another wave of nausea and pain shoots through me. It¡¯s not just my stomach, either. It¡¯s lower. There is also a tightening, almost a pulsing, between my legs, but deep, almost around my¡­ cervix.

    And then I know what¡¯s happening. I¡¯ve felt this way before, once before, although it was different then. It was natural and expected, beautiful in a way.

    I stand up, so suddenly that both officers look startled. ¡°I have to use the toilet,¡± I say, and they don¡¯t object as I practically sprint from the room.

    In the toilet, I yank down my suit pants--I¡¯m still wearing the clothes I wore to the office this morning--and my knickers, then squat down on the toilet. Looking down, my stomach fills with vomit as I see the red stain on my knickers. And there¡¯s more. It¡¯s coming from my vagina, and when I reach down and touch the folds of my skin, there is red, almost black, globules on blood.

    Blood clots.

    I feel as if I might be sick, but, after steadying myself, I wipe the blood on my thigh and wait. Options are coursing through me. I should go to the hospital, have the cops call the ambulance, and head straight there. They might be able to stop this from happening, or at least make sure that I don¡¯t hemorrhage. I¡¯ll need to call Sean as well¡­

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    And then it hits me again. Sean is gone. Sean is dead. If I make it to the hospital and they save the baby, I¡¯ll be having it alone, in seven or eight months. He won¡¯t be by my side to help me through the labor. He won¡¯t be there to hold the baby. He won¡¯t be there to congratulate me and tell me what a good job I did. He won¡¯t be there to raise this child with me.

    That¡¯s when the scream is torn from my throat. At the same time, another surge of pain rockets through me. It¡¯s too late. I know it instinctively. Even if I could get to the hospital in time, there would be no saving the baby. I¡¯m having a miscarriage. My body is rejecting the baby that caused my husband¡¯s death.

    It¡¯s early enough in the pregnancy that I don¡¯t see anything other than blood and a few clots. For this, I thank whatever God exists for small mercies. I don¡¯t want to see anything more. It¡¯s hard enough to face this. I just sit on the toilet and let the pregnancy wash out of me, crying silently. Other women come in and out of the restroom, but none of them seem to notice me. I make no noise.

    When it¡¯s over, I feel only relief. Briefly, I wonder if this would have happened if Sean hadn¡¯t died. Perhaps this pregnancy would have ended anyway and saved me the heartache and guilt--and potential legal battles with Jason--that were coming.

    Jason. He won¡¯t be happy to know I¡¯ve miscarried. But at least he won¡¯t be able to force himself into my life now.

    Jason.

    The man who said he would do anything to make sure we end up together.

    A black SUV.

    Do you know anyone who might have wished your husband harm?

    Jason. Jason wished my husband harm. He knew that he couldn¡¯t convince me to leave Sean, and he also knew that ruining my relationship with Sean would only make me hate him. So he eliminated Sean. Then he could position himself as the supportive shoulder to cry on, the man I could lean on in my grief, the man who would take care of me.

    Clarity seers through me. I grab at the toilet paper, pull a wad from the dispenser, and clean myself up. Then I make my way slowly and carefully back to the interview room.

    ¡°Mrs Jones?¡± The blonde officer looks concerned as I come back into the room. He and his colleague both stand. ¡°You look pale. Are you well?¡±

    ¡°I just had a miscarriage in your toilet,¡± I say, as I sit back down in front of the cops.

    ¡°What?¡± Both men look as if I have just uttered the most disgusting words they¡¯ve ever heard. ¡°We should get you to the hospital, Mrs Jones.¡±

    ¡°Fine. But I want to answer your question first. I know who killed my husband.¡±

    ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my ex, Jason Shipman. He wanted me to get back together with him. He thinks the baby is his. Was his¡­¡±

    ¡°Mrs Jones.¡± Blonde cop leans forward. ¡°Were you having an affair?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but I¡¯d ended it. Jason is crazy. He¡¯s an alcoholic, and he threatened me. He told me he¡¯s do anything to get me back.¡± My hands clench into fists. ¡°And then he killed my husband.¡±

    It becomes a waiting game after that. I have to wait for the police to investigate Jason, and I have no idea how long that will take. They investigate me, too. I¡¯m not stupid; I understand their line of questioning, the way they try to get out of me whether or not I was working with Jason to off my husband. But they won¡¯t find anything. The Weekend Club has been deleted from our computer, from my phone. I¡¯ve deleted all texts from Jason. And there¡¯s plenty of CCTV in our neighbourhood for them to see I didn¡¯t leave the house during the time when Sean died.

    Anyway, the fact that I want Jason behind bars goes a long way to convince them that I hate him and want nothing to do with him.

    Trying to put Jason behind bars is distracting. Perhaps that¡¯s why I¡¯m focusing on it. Because if I let myself think too hard about my life, I think I might lose my mind.

    First of all, there¡¯s Donnie. I have to tell him that his father has died, and it is the worst moment of my life. Worse even than when I learned of it myself, or when I had to identify his body. Donnie doesn¡¯t understand at first, and then he does. The screams that fill the apartment shatter whatever joy I had left in my heart. Shatter any hope. Worse than that, he seems to regress after that. He begins wetting the bed, something he¡¯s never done regularly before. He wakes up in the night with nightmares. Eventually, I let him share a bed with me. It doesn¡¯t stop the bed-wetting, but it does stop the nightmares. And during the day, he¡¯s temperamental and moody. Sometimes he¡¯ll start screaming at me for no reason, or throw things, or refuse to eat. Other times he¡¯ll lay on the sofa, saying nothing, barely moving, for hours.

    It¡¯s everything I want to do, but can¡¯t. I have to hold it together for him, but I don¡¯t know how to do that.

    Secondly, there¡¯s Sean¡¯s parents to deal with. There¡¯s no way to tell them about the investigation into Jason without also telling them about my affair. In the wake of their grief, this betrayal cuts them to the core. They tell me they want nothing to do with me ever again.

    ¡°What about your grandson?¡± I ask, astonished, when we discuss this over the phone, several weeks after Sean¡¯s death.

    ¡°If he¡¯s even our grandson,¡± Sean¡¯s mum snorts. ¡°Who knows if Sean was really even the father?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going away for a while, Jazz,¡± Sean¡¯s dad says, more gently. ¡°We need to get away, somewhere warm, to deal with¡­ this grief. When we get back, then maybe we can figure out how much of Donnie we want to see.¡±

    On top of it all, Sean¡¯s life insurance policy won¡¯t pay out until the police investigation is concluded. It¡¯s because I was a suspect, at least peripherally, or so I gather from several Google searches. If I¡¯m suspected of having a hand in my husband¡¯s death, then I will lose my status as beneficiary. And without my job, that means money is very tight. I¡¯m going to have to borrow from my pension just to make our next mortgage payment.

    My parents loan me some money, and that helps bandaid over things, but it¡¯s a temporary fix. I¡¯m going to have to find another job, and in my current state of depression ¨C combined with the fact I was fired from my last job ¨C I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s possible.

    Jason doesn¡¯t text me. He must have been spooked by the cops showing up and asking questions. Maybe he¡¯s afraid that if he reaches out, it will make him look more guilty. Sometimes, in my lowest moments, I wonder if maybe he didn¡¯t do it; if he¡¯s innocent; if I should text him, and beg him to help me out. He has money to burn, after all. And I know that he¡¯d give me whatever I needed.

    About a month after Sean¡¯s death, the detectives tied to the case come to see me. I¡¯m home, like I always am, and Donnie is sleeping, so I take them out onto the balcony where we won¡¯t wake him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mrs Jones,¡± one of the detectives begins, ¡°but we could find no evidence linking Mr Shipman to your husband¡¯s death.¡±

    I just stare at them, disbelieving. The other detective continues, ¡°He has an alibi for the day in question, and our investigation didn¡¯t come up with any evidence that he hired or persuaded someone else to carry out the hit-and-run.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± I cast around for something to convince the detectives. ¡°He¡¯s represented lots of very bad people. He told me! Couldn¡¯t one of them have done it for him? Maybe they didn¡¯t leave a paper trail.¡±

    The detectives look at each other, and a small nod passes between them. ¡°Although Mr Shipman has some connections to organised crime,¡± the first one says, turning back to me, ¡°we have no reason to believe, at this moment, that he employed any of them to carry out a hit on your husband. Of course, if any evidence presents itself, then we will investigate it thoroughly. As for a paper trail¡­ these days, where so much of our banking is online, there is almost always some sort of indication that money has changed hands. But we could find no evidence of that.¡±

    ¡°What if someone owed him a favour?¡± I insist. ¡°Maybe it wasn¡¯t money that exchanged hands, but something less formal.¡±

    The detective shakes his head. ¡°We can only go off of the evidence, Mrs Jones.¡±

    They leave, and for one wild moment, I think about throwing myself off of the balcony. It¡¯s not really a real thought; I¡¯m not going to leave Donnie alone. But there is something tempting about the idea of oblivion. Of never having to think again.

    But oblivion might make me feel better, but it would still allow Jason to walk away free. And that¡¯s a fate I couldn¡¯t bear.

    Instead, I go back into the apartment, where I search through the kitchen drawers until I find what I¡¯m looking for. If the police can¡¯t be counted on to meet out justice, then I will take matters into my own hands.

 Chapter 27

    I need help.

    The three words stare up at me from my phone, right underneath Jason¡¯s name. The time stamp laughs at me. I sent them six hours ago, and I still haven¡¯t heard back from him. Did the cops scare him off? Does he think this is a trap?

    Well then, he needs some encouragement. Picking up my phone, I add:

    My husband is dead, I¡¯ve lost my job, I¡¯m broke, and the bank is threatening that they¡¯re going to foreclose on our apartment if I can¡¯t make another mortgage payment.

    Ten minutes later, I include:

    Please, Jason. I¡¯m desperate, and I need you. You¡¯re the only one who has always taken care of me.

    I know he won¡¯t be able to resist this. He wants to be the hero. And I¡¯m right. Thirty seconds later, his response comes pinging into my phone.

    Let¡¯s meet.

    We agree on a restaurant in London. He knows I can¡¯t go far from Donnie right now. Meghan agrees to watch Donnie while I¡¯m out meeting Jason. She¡¯s been helpful since Sean¡¯s death, dropping by occasionally with food, watching Donnie whenever if I¡¯m too exhausted or need to go out alone. Maybe Steffan was right about her. Maybe she does have a mothering instinct, after all.

    When I say goodbye to Donnie, I hug him for a long time. He¡¯s in one of his apathetic moods, and he barely hugs me back. His arms are limp.

    ¡°Be a good boy for me, won¡¯t you?¡± I whisper as I smooth back his hair and kiss his forehead. He doesn¡¯t respond, stares at me blankly. I kiss his forehead again, blinking back my tears. ¡°Just know, Mummy loves you, and she always will.¡±

    His eyes seem to clear for a second, and I wonder if he¡¯s really hearing and understanding what I¡¯m saying. But then his face smoothes to neutral again, and when I drop him off at Meghan¡¯s, he doesn¡¯t even bother to say goodbye.

    ¡°Take the spare key to my apartment also,¡± I say to Meghan, as I hand her a bag of Donnie¡¯s things. ¡°In case I forgot something he needs.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± She peers at me. ¡°You doing okay, honey?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯ll be better, soon.¡±

    The restaurant where Jason and I meet is a posh one. Of course. He wants to impress me with his wealth, as he always does. It¡¯s inside a large glass, greenhouse-like structure, kept cool with air-conditioning and decorated with hanging plants, marbletop tables, and rattan chairs stacked with pastel cushions. A tall, lithe woman with trendy tattoos leads me to my table, where Jason is already waiting. His expression is difficult to read, but he gets up to greet me and kisses me on the cheek.

    ¡°Jazz,¡± he murmurs. ¡°How are you?¡±

    The moment I sit, I begin to cry. I¡¯m not even faking it, either. As much as I hate him, it still feels good to sit in front of someone who knows me so well and loves me so much, and just let myself feel everything that¡¯s been torturing me.

    ¡°Oh, love¡­¡± he reaches out and takes my hand, a frown furrowing his brow. ¡°It¡¯s okay. You can let it out.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been so hard, Jason,¡± I whisper, dabbing at my eyes with my napkin with my free hand. ¡°I don¡¯t feel like anything is real. It¡¯s been a whole month, and I still can¡¯t wrap my mind around it.¡±

    ¡°Grief is like that,¡± he says wisely. ¡°It will take some time to adjust to. But that¡¯s what amazing about us humans: we can adapt to anything, even the hardest situations. We¡¯re resilient. You¡¯re resilient, Jazz.¡±

    Today, gone is the angry alcoholic. Once again, Jason has transformed into the caring, understanding, protective man I went to Paris with. But instead of charming me, it makes me furious. Is anything about this man real? Was it all an act, even in uni?

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    But I don¡¯t let my feelings show. Instead, I hiccup, sniff, and give Jason a watery smile.

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel resilient.¡±

    ¡°You are.¡± Jason squeezes my hand. ¡°Look at everything you¡¯ve overcome! It¡¯s not easy to go from working-class Mancunian girl to successful London accountant.¡±

    ¡°I lost my job,¡± I say, and then I dissolve again into tears. ¡°After everything¡­ I lost my mind.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Jason says gently. ¡°But we¡¯re going to find you another job, okay? I have a lot of contacts. One call from me, and you could work as an in-house accountant at any of them. Or, if you prefer, you could take some time off, focus on healing. Taking care of Donnie.¡±

    ¡°How could I do that?¡± I ask, as the tears continue to leak down my cheeks. ¡°I have to work, or we¡¯ll lose the apartment. We¡¯ll be¡­ be¡­ homeless¡­¡±

    ¡°You will never be homeless,¡± Jason says, and his voice is insistent. ¡°You can come stay with me. I have a huge apartment, there¡¯s so much room. You and Donnie can have your own floor, if you want. I¡¯ll take care of you, Jazz. You and the baby.¡± He looks pointedly at my stomach, and I realise, with a jolt, that he doesn¡¯t know. Somehow, he managed to find out that I lost my job, but he doesn¡¯t yet know that I also lost the baby.

    ¡°Jason¡­¡± I grip his hand. The tears are gone now, as fear builds in my breast. ¡°There¡¯s something I have to tell you.¡±

    ¡°What is it, love?¡±

    I lower my eyes. ¡°I lost the baby.¡±

    Silence. I don¡¯t dare to look up. Somehow, I know that Jason will blame me for this. And I¡¯m right. He releases my hand, and when I look up, he is looking stonily at me. ¡°You lost our baby?¡± he repeats.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my fault,¡± I say, adding a pleading note to my voice. He needs to think I¡¯m sorry about it. ¡°All the stress and grief¡­ my body couldn¡¯t take it.¡±

    ¡°And you didn¡¯t get an abortion, right?¡± The words snap through the air like a whip, and I suck in my breath.

    ¡°No, of course not,¡± I whisper. ¡°Jesus, Jason, I wanted that baby!¡±

    Jason¡¯s jaw tightens. ¡°It didn¡¯t sound like it, when we last talked.¡±

    I choose my words carefully. ¡°I was scared, Jason. And I didn¡¯t want to tear my family apart. Leaving Sean felt impossible. But I always wanted the baby, I loved her from the moment I realised I was pregnant. Even more so, knowing she was yours¡­¡±

    Jason still doesn¡¯t look convinced. The kind, understanding man is gone again, replaced by the furious alcoholic. ¡°Because the police have been investigating me, Jazz. They knew I was the father. And how could they have known that, unless you told them? Unless you told them you thought I might have something to do with Sean¡¯s death?¡±

    ¡°I did tell them you were the father,¡± I say, nodding contritely. ¡°I was in a state of shock, it didn¡¯t even cross my mind to lie. But I never thought you had anything to do with Sean¡¯s death. I know you, Jason. And I know you would never hurt me. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve come to you now. I should have come sooner, I know, but it felt like a betrayal of Sean to run to you so soon after his death. And when I lost the baby, I was afraid you would blame me¡­¡± I summon some more tears and watch with satisfaction as Jason¡¯s expression softens.

    Then, to my surprise, I see tears gather in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Jazz,¡± he whispers, and he puts his head in his hands. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I should have been there¡­¡± He sniffs, then looks back up. ¡°But we will try again, okay? We will have a baby together, when you¡¯re ready. We¡¯re going to get the happily ever after we always deserved. I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Jason¡­¡± My face breaks into a smile, and I stand. ¡°Jason, you always take care of me.¡±

    He stands as well and takes me in his arms. For a long minute, we rock back and forth like that, him holding me tight. His tears are wet on my neck, and he holds me very tight, like he is never, ever going to let go again.

    Which, I suppose, he truly believes.

    And that¡¯s the last thing he ever knows: the joy of believing he got me back, and we will spend the rest of our lives together. So in some ways, Jason should thank me, as I slip the knife between his ribs and twist.

    The screech he lets out is the best thing I¡¯ve heard since Sean died, and I savor it. The blood that pours from him and flows over my hands, hot and sticky, feels like divine retribution. This man made me bleed, made me lose my baby, and now I¡¯ve made him bleed as well.

    Jason is strong, but the pain weakens him at once. And although he clutches at me, as if trying to immobilise me with his strength, I have a head start on him. Twisting the knife in even deeper, his scream fills my ears, fills the restaurant, reverberating off of the glass walls. He is going to die, right here, in this posh restaurant.

    I release him, and he falls back, then onto his knees. His hands come to his side, to the knife. Then he looks up at me, shock and bewilderment streaked across his face. I don¡¯t wait. I reach down and pull the knife out of him, so that the blood flows freely.

    And then I¡¯m tackled. Some do-gooder, probably. I let myself be forced to the ground as the screams of patrons fill my ears. I don¡¯t raise the knife to try and defend myself. Instead, I let it clatter to the floor. And when the police arrive, shortly after Jason¡¯s lifeless body has been wheeled away on a stretcher, I am smiling.

 Chapter 28

    It¡¯s not the same cops that arrest me. Why would it be? We¡¯re in an entirely different part of London. But somehow, they seem the same. Impersonal and indifferent. Even as I¡¯m covered in my ex boyfriend¡¯s blood.

    Things move quickly. There were about fifty witnesses to what happened, and no one is under any doubt that I will be quickly convicted and sent to prison. But once I¡¯m in police custody, I learn I will be assigned a defense attorney. Someone public, whom the court will pay for. Because I don¡¯t have any money, anymore.

    My barrister turns out to be a squat, sweaty man with a thick Essex accent. He¡¯s balding and has red eyes, both from smoking as sleeplessness, as he informs me during our first meeting, the morning of my appearance in the Magistrates¡¯ Court. He introduces himself as Colin Ealing.

    The first thing I ask him is what has happened to my son. ¡°Has Donnie been put into foster care?¡±

    ¡°Your son is still with the family friends you left him with. Mr and Mrs¡­¡± Colin checks his notes. ¡°Green. After they were informed of your arrest, they applied for temporary kinship carer status through your local council estate and were granted emergency status. That means they can keep Donnie and look after him for up to 16 weeks, 24 if this is deemed an exceptional circumstance. Which I suspect it will be.¡±

    I frown at him. ¡°Kindship carers? But they¡¯re not kin.¡±

    ¡°Kinship carers can be family friends,¡± Colin says, ¡°or anyone close to the child or family.¡±

    I suppose Meghan and Steffan have watched Donnie a few times, but I wouldn¡¯t say they are particularly close to him, or to Sean and me. However, I decide to keep this to myself. With my parents in Manchester - and without the financial means to care for Donnie - and Sean¡¯s parents in Mallorca, Meghan and Steffan might be the best option for Donnie right now. Definitely better than being put into foster care. At least at theirs, he can stay in the same school, the same building. There will be less disruption in his life. And they can bring him to visit me.

    ¡°What will happen to him if I¡¯m convicted?¡± I ask, after mulling this information over.

    ¡°It depends¡­ As family and friends guardians, they currently don¡¯t have parental rights. They¡¯re just ¡®looking after¡¯ Donnie. You still have parental responsibility. If you¡¯re convicted¡­ then they could apply for a legal order, which would give them parental rights. If they decide not to keep Donnie, then the family court would probably approach Donnie¡¯s grandparents. If both grandparents refused, then he would go into foster care.¡±

    ¡°And he could end up with a stranger?¡± My voice is hollow. I don¡¯t know what I thought would happen, when I decided to kill Jason, but it wasn¡¯t this. My mind was so focused on revenge that I couldn¡¯t see the future. It was like I had tunnel vision. And now Donnie could end up with strangers¡­

    But I can¡¯t let myself think about that. There are still many people who would care for him before that. My parents¡­ Sean¡¯s parents, if they ever come back to London. And Steffan and Meghan might decide they like having a child¡­ maybe they¡¯ll apply for a legal order¡­

    I swallow down a lump in my throat. Never in my life did I imagine my son would be raised by two swingers, one of whom used to be a stripper. Then again, I suppose Sean and I were nontraditional, too¡­

    ¡°We should talk about your hearing today,¡± Colin says, interrupting my thoughts. ¡°This appearance is only a formality, as murder cases are always sent directly from the Magistrates¡¯ Court to the Crown Court.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± It¡¯s hard to focus on anything, when I¡¯m thinking about Donnie, but I wrench my mind back to the present.

    ¡°You won¡¯t have to enter a plea today,¡± Colin continues.

    ¡°What does it matter what I plead?¡± I ask. ¡°Fifty people saw me kill Jason.¡±

    ¡°A not-guilty plea doesn¡¯t necessarily mean you¡¯re innocent,¡± he says, looking at me seriously. ¡°It could mean there were exceptional circumstances. And considering your state of mind at the time: your grief, the loss of your job, the miscarriage¡­ I think you could come across as sympathetic to a jury. Especially if we play up the miscarriage.¡±

    ¡°I cheated on my husband, got pregnant with my lover¡¯s baby, attacked my boss, practically killed my husband by breaking his heart, and then murdered the man I had an affair with.¡± I raise an eyebrow. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m particularly sympathetic.¡±

    I turn out to be right. The Magistrates¡¯ Court passed my case up to the Crown Court, and after much consultation with Colin, I plead not guilty. Colin wants to argue that my miscarriage brought on a antenatal psychotic episode. He brings in experts on miscarriage and antenatal depression. But the jury doesn¡¯t like me. I can tell, from the way they watch me, like I¡¯m something disgusting that they found in a public toilet. After the affair and Sean¡¯s death, I get the impression that they think I deserved the miscarriage, that it was some sort of divine retribution for my sins. This feels very maudlin, very American in its puritanical, religious fervour, but it¡¯s helped along by the prosecution, who play up my promiscuousness, slatternly behaviour, terrible mothering, and selfishness. They paint me as some sort of Jezebel, and it¡¯s hard to refute it, when deep down, I agree with them.

    Maybe I did deserve the miscarriage. Maybe I did deserve to lose my husband, my son, and my unborn baby.

    It isn¡¯t just that I didn¡¯t tell Sean about Jason. It isn¡¯t just that I went on the second date with Jason. It isn¡¯t even that I got pregnant with Jason¡¯s child and lied to Sean.

    My sin started before that: it began with when I first followed the paths of curiosity and cyber connectivity to the Weekend Club. It cemented when I suggested to Sean that we try it out. And it bloomed into something evil and twisted when the Weekend Club took over my life and brain; when it made me stop paying attention to my husband child; when I prioritized the simple, selfish pleasures of my flesh - and my thirst for adventure - over the people I had pledged to love most and protect.

    At least, these are the things I tell myself, late at night, as I think over the things that were said in court that day, as I reexamine each and every one of my depravities, my failings.

    It doesn¡¯t take long for the prosecution to find the Weekend Club. And that¡¯s when things really go downhill for me. Even though Sean participate in this, too, it is me who is crucified. After all, Sean didn¡¯t kill anyone. Sean didn¡¯t betray the rules we had set up. Sean is a man, and therefore not a slut, no matter how hard he might try to be one. And Sean is dead. That, perhaps, is the best defense. No one wants to crucify the dead.

    As horrible and humiliating as it is to listen to the prosecution read out the messages I sent on the Weekend Club - somehow, they have gained access to those - this also leads to a realisation. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s a good realisation or not. But it is a clarifying one.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    The realisation is this: there were so many people who might have wanted to hurt me and Sean. There are so many people who might have wished to ruin my marriage like I ruined theirs. There are too many people who might have wanted Sean dead.

    I was so sure it was Jason. Beyond sure. I was willing to bet my life, and the life of my son, and it being Jason. But as the prosecution lines up my many sins in front of me to examine, I begin to see the bigger picture.

    It could have been any one of them.

    Mark, or more likely, Julie.

    Freddy or Samantha.

    Ewan or Maddie.

    Perhaps someone else, someone I never knew about, whom Sean slept with; some crazy bitch who wanted him for herself, and who, when she couldn¡¯t have him, killed him.

    The thought keeps me up at night, in the days after the realisation hits me.

    I can believe anything of Julie and Mark, but what about Maddie and Samantha? Are either of them really capable of killing my husband? What if they discovered I¡¯d fucked their husbands and decided to get revenge? I don¡¯t really believe that either of them could commit murder, but they could have meant to just hurt Sean. Perhaps they just wanted to hit him with their car, not kill him, and then things got out of hand. Or maybe they hired someone to do their dirty work, and Sean saw his face, and, panicking he¡¯d get caught, he decided to finish the job?

    Even wild cards, like Paulo and Jake, suddenly seem suspicious. Neither of them had any discernible reason to want Sean dead, and neither of them knew where I lived, but still¡­ you never know how the twisted mind of a person works. Maybe they were on the app to find and stalk victims. Perhaps they followed me back to my apartment. Perhaps they¡¯d been staking me out for weeks, months.

    As these thoughts twist through my mind, I become even colder and more withdrawn in court. It¡¯s hard to fight for your innocence when it¡¯s starting to hit you that perhaps, you killed the wrong person.

    Not that I care about Jason. He is better off dead, and the world is better off without him. No, what fills me with rage and fear and guilt is thinking of the person out there, the one who did this, still free. Not paying the price. The person who robbed me of everything, walking free. Because I want to kill him, or her, whoever they are. I want to make them suffer. And I want to know they¡¯re dead before they can harm Donnie, or anyone else I love.

    In the end, I¡¯m convicted of first-degree murder. No one seems to buy that I was at diminished medical and pschological capacity due to the miscarriage. After all, it had been a month. And the fact that I brought my own knife condemns me in the end. It screams premeditation.

    I feel indifferent when I receive the verdict. After all, it¡¯s true. I did kill Jason. I did mean to. And it was premeditated. In a way, I¡¯m reassured to know that the justice system works; that the jury can clearly and accurately read the situation and come to the correct solution.

    After the sentencing comes down, I am transferred to HMP Bronzefield. It¡¯s in Surrey, to the southwest of London, but not too far that friends and family can¡¯t come visit. If anyone even comes. I¡¯m not expecting many friends, but Meghan promises me, during one of my phone calls, that she will bring Donnie soon.

    But it isn¡¯t Meghan who comes to visit me during my first visiting hours.

    It¡¯s Steffan.

    I¡¯m shocked when I see him, not because I haven¡¯t thought about him often, knowing he¡¯s taking care of my son, but because I haven¡¯t communicated with him at all. It¡¯s been exclusively Meghan who has been giving me updates on Donnie and making sure I talk to him regularly over the phone.

    ¡°Hi,¡± I say, as Steffan sits down at the table with me.

    He looks different, I notice. Thinner. There are bags under his eyes and hollows in his cheeks. It¡¯s like he isn¡¯t getting as much sleep, or hitting the gym as often. Probably the result of now caring for a five-year-old who is grieving both his parents.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Donnie?¡± I ask, looking around at the soft play area. Other kids are playing there, but I don¡¯t see my son.

    Steffan doesn¡¯t answer directly. He looks around the room, then back at me. ¡°This is very nice, for a prison.¡± And it¡¯s true, there are soft chairs for inmates and their visitors to sit on, a snack bar with tea and coffee, and of course, the soft play is very nice for those visiting with children. It¡¯s not the terrifying prison visiting room with the phones and plexiglass windows that I¡¯ve seen in movies.

    ¡°I suppose so,¡± I say.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d be somewhere grimmer, considering what you¡¯re in here for.¡±

    I don¡¯t respond to this. I¡¯m still waiting for Donnie to appear. Did he have to go through extra security? But that doesn¡¯t make any sense. Anyway, Steffan wouldn¡¯t have left him alone.

    ¡°If you¡¯re looking for Donnie, he isn¡¯t here.¡±

    I turn back to Steffan to see a strange, almost gleeful look on his face. Dread begins to pool in my stomach at the sight of it, and I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.

    ¡°Why not?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Meghan and I don¡¯t think a prison is a good place for a child to visit.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I stare at him, disbelieving. ¡°You mean¡­ ever? But Donnie has to come visit me! I¡¯m his mother! You have to bring him here!¡±

    ¡°And maybe we will¡­. in time.¡± Steffan gives me a self-satisfied smirk. ¡°But right now, Donnie is dealing with a lot of change and trauma. His father died. Then his mother abandoned him.¡±

    ¡®I didn¡¯t abandon him! It¡¯s not like I wanted this to happen.¡±

    Steffan gives me a cold look. ¡°What did you think would happen, when you murdered your lover? That you would walk away scott free?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I wasn¡¯t thinking about that.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s your entire problem, Jazz. You¡¯re never thinking about Donnie, or your husband, or anyone else, for that matter. You¡¯re only ever thinking about yourself. And because of that, you took your family for granted. The best thing that ever happened to you--the one thing so many of us would have given anything to have--and you took it for granted. More than took it for granted! You let it slip away. You even lost your other child.¡±

    I can¡¯t seem to form words. I have no idea why Steffan is being so mean to me, why he¡¯s being so vindictive. If I weren¡¯t in so much shock, I might grab him by the hair and slap him across the face. But even if I weren¡¯t¡­ part of me can¡¯t bring myself to do it. I¡¯ve already paid such a high price for my violent actions. I don¡¯t want to pay any more.

    ¡°And then,¡± Steffan continues, his face and voice riddled with contempt, ¡°your husband dies. And instead of making that appreciate even more what you have--Donnie, your child--you decide to get revenge, and abandon him so that you can have the momentary satisfaction of thinking you¡¯ve killed your husband¡¯s killer. You have no patience, Jazz. You go for the instant gratification, whether that¡¯s sex or revenge. And you forget what really matters.¡± His eyes bore into mine, and in them, I see a fathomless blackness I have never seen before. A cruelty and self-preservation that I could never even have imagined. And that¡¯s when it hits me: the ugly, awful truth. My breath hitches, and I want to scream, but before I can, Steffan is speaking again.

    ¡°That¡¯s the difference between you and me. I have patience. I can play the long game.¡±

    ¡°It was you,¡± I whisper. My hands are shaking, and my voice wavers as well. ¡°You killed Sean. You overheard our argument that day, and you were angry I¡¯d taken my family for granted, so you killed him.¡±

    Steffan gives me a contemptuous look, but his eyes are gleaming. ¡°I told you, Jazz, all those months ago: bringing a child into the world is the most precious thing a person can do. And those who take that for granted¡­ well, they don¡¯t deserve their children.¡±

    Steffan stands, but I¡¯m too weak and shocked to stand as well. All I can think is that Steffan has my son now. He killed my husband, and he stole my child. A numb buzzing is beginning to fill my head. I can¡¯t think straight. I can¡¯t see straight. All sound is becoming muffled and distorted.

    ¡°Good-bye, Jazz,¡± I hear Steffan say, from far away. ¡°I doubt we will see each other again for a long, long time.¡±

    It¡¯s only after he is gone that the scream is torn from my throat. When the guards come, they have to carry me away, kicking and screaming, and it is a long time before the screaming stops reverberating through my head.

    The End