In the days that followed, guilt became something I folded and tucked away like old letters in a drawer. Jack had claimed me again and again. 

Not every day, not every hour, but enough that I began to expect it. Enough that I stopped thinking “not now.”

I wore my usual business attire, those fitted blouses, pencil skirts, low heels but I noticed now how his eyes scanned my body each time I walked in. 

And I’d stopped feeling nervous about it. In fact, part of me craved it now. It made me feel wanted, powerful and dirty in a way that left me wet between my legs before lunch.

At home, I was careful, loving and attentive. My husband didn’t suspect anything. The contrast between my innocent domestic self and my secret office life made it all the more intoxicating.

One day, It had been an unusually tense Friday in the office. Jack had been pacing earlier, reviewing documents, making calls with a sharper tone than usual. 

The company was on the verge of something big, something that could shift his position, my future, maybe the entire structure of the workplace.

He called me just before noon. I stepped into his office, clipboard in hand, my button-down shirt neatly tucked into my skirt, unaware of what was happening. 

I went in, prepared for another intimate session, but I was shut off by the rush. 

“You’ll be helping me entertain some people this afternoon,” Jack said simply, not looking up from his screen.

I just nodded and asked. “How many?”

“Three executives. They're sharp guys and very important.” he said. 

“Of course,” I said. 

I didn’t need to ask what kind of “help” he meant lately, my role blurred that line but this time his tone felt more professional than usual and more focused. 

I assumed my job was what it had always been: look polished, handle logistics, smile politely. Usually my job was to prepare for the meeting, and leave when the meeting starts. But not this time.

When the clients arrived around three, they were everything Jack had promised. Charming, rich, and a bit too confident. 

I greeted them with practiced ease, offered some champagne, and set up the conference room for the final round of negotiations. Everything flowed perfectly, contracts reviewed, hands shaken and glasses raised.

Jack was glowing with pride when the deal was sealed. I could see it in the way he leaned back into the leather chair, more relaxed than he'd been in days.

“To new beginnings,” one of the clients toasted.

They all clinked glasses. I raised mine, smiled, and at that moment, I thought it was over. The job was done. Another step in my twisted routine. I was just about to excuse myself to leave. 

“Why don’t we all move to the lounge?” Jack said casually. “Something to unwind after all this tension.”

I was a bit shocked. That wasn’t part of the plan. But I nodded and followed.

In the lounge, it was quiet, dim, and the city lights blinking through tall windows behind sheer curtains. The couch that I used more than anyone else, and used for sleeping more than sitting.

I stood by the bar, sipping slowly. Jack was across the room, deep in conversation with one of the clients. The other two stood near me, laughing over something lighthearted.

One of them, Martin, I recalled approached me with a fresh drink.

“You look like you’ve been carrying this deal on your back,” he joked.

I smiled politely. “I only did the boring parts.”

“Not at all. You’ve been the most delightful part of this visit.” He said. 

He leaned slightly closer, not enough to draw attention. His tone lowered. “I hope Jack realizes how lucky he is.”

I looked at him, my smile flickering. “Jack gets everything he wants.”

His eyes met mine. “Does he share?”

The question hung between us, delicate and dangerous. I sipped my drink instead of answering, but with a smirk and side-eye. I was getting tipsy, and just the thought of it made me blush a bit. 

He didn’t push. Just let silence settle. Then he touched my wrist lightly, with familiarity that shouldn't have existed.

“Would you mind some air?”

I hesitated. Glanced at Jack, who was still talking, but watching from the corner of his eye.

“I suppose,” I whispered.

Martin led me around the back partition of the lounge, where a chaise sat beneath a low lamp. Still part of the room, but just out of view.

As we sat, the conversation started with work, slowly unraveling toward something more personal. I found myself laughing. My voice is softer. My posture is more relaxed.

Until I realized how close we were.

His hand rested on my thigh, warm through the thin fabric of my skirt. I didn’t stop him. Not even when his mouth brushed my neck.

“I’m married, and have kids.” I whispered, though my thighs had already parted slightly letting his hand slide between them. 

He kissed my jaw. “That must be exhausting. Why don't we relax a bit after such a long day. Stretch out.”

We had a few more drinks, one after the other and he leaned in for a kiss. I didn't resist but enjoyed it. I held his head, and kissed him passionately, pushing him on the couch. 

He held my hand, and guided me in his pants, where a warm, thick and hard dick was waiting for me. I pulled his pants down and started kissing it. 

I didn't even realise how and when I was sucking him off. Then we switched, and went down on me. 

I was on my back, legs loosely draped over the side of the chaise, my blouse pushed open, my bra pulled aside. His mouth found my breasts and lingered there, reverent.

My moans were soft, barely controlled. And yet I knew the others could hear. It turned me on more than it should.

When he pushed his dick into my pussy, my body welcomed him without resistance. A slow, careful rhythm. I bit my lip to keep quiet, but I couldn't stop the gasps, the tiny cries.

I came before he did. He followed, holding me tightly, his breath hot against my neck.

We stayed like that for a moment, silent and trembling before I gently pushed him off, trying to sit up and collect my clothes. I could feel his warm cum flowing out of my pussy. 

But before I could even reach my panties, a second shadow appeared.

“Wait,” the second client Daniel said from the partition.

He was already undoing his belt, watching me with that same smile Jack wore.

My breath caught, and I barely spoke, “I..”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said softly. “Just lie back.”

I glanced over toward Jack. He was leaning against the bar now, arms crossed, saying nothing.

He wouldn’t stop it. And something in me didn’t want it to stop. I laid back.

Daniel kissed me deep, slow, more emotional than I expected. His fingers slipped inside my pussy, wet from the last man. I moaned despite being myself.

“I’ve thought about this since the moment I saw you,” he whispered. “You looked like you needed this.”

He entered his hard dick deep in my pussy. This wasn’t slow like the first. It was deeper and hungrier.

I gripped the armrest, half in pleasure, half in guilt. But my body betrayed me again, my legs lifting around him, pulling him in.

When he came, I trembled beneath him, silently ashamed at how badly I wanted the next.

By now, my clothes were scattered, blouse undone, skirt up, body glistening with sweat. The third man, seated nearby, hadn’t said a word the whole time.

But he stood now. I didn’t even said anything. He walked over, stroked my hair, and whispered, “You look beautiful like this.”

I turned to my side and pulled him in between my legs without words. He took me slowly from behind, one hand around my waist, the other gripping my breast.

And this time I didn’t hold back my moans. Something broke and Something gave in.

When it was over, and my body lay trembling and sore across the lounge seat, I finally looked toward Jack.

He raised his glass in silent approval. I nodded barely. And began pulling my clothes back on. 

Once they were gone, I said, “What the hell just happened?”

He smiled and replied, “You just saved our business. Don't worry, you'll get something really good for your efforts.”

I was confused and asked, “How did I do that?”

He said, “You were our deal. And this is not the end, they'll be back again.”

We left back home. 

____________________________________

The city lights felt cold through the cab window as I rode home, legs crossed tightly, arms folded across my chest. My blouse was buttoned now, though not quite right the collar sat askew, one button lower than it should have been.

I could still smell cologne on my skin that didn’t belong to my husband. I tried not to think about the way my panties had never made it back into my purse.

The house was quiet when I stepped inside.

The hallway light was on. The kind he always left for me when he knew I’d be late. I stood there for a second, just listening the hush of a family at rest, the hum of the fridge, the far-off ticking of the living room clock.

It felt like another life.

I walked into the bedroom. He was asleep, one arm spread across the bed like he’d been waiting up but lost the battle. His chest rose and fell so gently it almost broke me.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to crawl into bed and confess everything. Fall apart in his arms and beg him to take the shame away.

But I didn’t.

I just went to the bathroom. Closed the door quietly. Sat on the closed toilet lid and stared at myself in the mirror.

Mascara smudged. Lipstick faded. There were faint marks on my neck.

I undressed slowly, peeling away the layers like I could remove the night itself. I showered in silence, too hot, too long, scrubbing until my skin was red. 

But I could still feel them. Their hands, their mouths. The sound of my own voice when I stopped trying to hold back.

And worst of all, the part of me that hadn’t wanted it to stop. When I finally slipped into bed, I lay on my side, watching him breathe.

His face was so peaceful. Trusting like he had no idea the kind of woman he shared a bed with. I turned away from him and slept. 

The morning light slipped between the curtains, warm and indifferent. I blinked slowly, my body aching in places I couldn’t admit. The other side of the bed was empty, still warm. He was already up.

My hand brushed over the sheets where he’d slept. I closed my eyes for a moment. Then I pulled the good mask on.

I wrapped a robe around myself and followed the sound of the kettle. He was in the kitchen, shirtless, humming quietly while he buttered toast.

“Morning,” I said, my voice softer than usual.

He turned with a smile so natural, so warm. “You got in late.”

“Yeah. The meeting went long. Then a few drinks.”

I hated how easily the lie came out. He handed me a mug without question, brushing my hair with his fingers as he did. “Is everything going well?”

I nodded. “Jack was happy. The clients were happy. So it's a win-win.”

He chuckled. “Then I’m happy.”

I smiled at that. It felt awful.

The toast popped up. He slid it onto a plate, cut it the way I liked, diagonally, just a touch of jam on the side. He still remembered that.

I sat down and nibbled at the edge of the toast, sipping coffee between bites, pretending I wasn’t thinking about last night.

Pretending my body didn’t ache and I didn’t still taste someone's dick on my lips.

He sat across from me, flipping through his phone. Casual and innocent. I envied that.

“How’s the project going?” he asked.

I blinked. “Hm?”

“The new pitch you were working on. You were so stressed about it earlier this week.”

“Oh right. It’s going well. Jack thinks we’re on track. And that helped way more than I expected, during this meeting.”

He smiled again. “Told you not to stress so much.”

I nodded, swallowing past the lump in my throat. The sound of cartoons drifted in from the living room. The kids were awake.

I got up slowly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It lingered just a little longer than necessary. He didn’t notice.

“I’ll check on them.”

“Okay. I’ll clean up.”

I walked down the hallway like a ghost. Every step felt like it echoed. The morning felt normal. And I hated how good I was at making it look that way. 

___________________________________

I returned to the office two days after that night. It should have been a normal Monday, but nothing felt normal anymore. Not after what I’d allowed. What I’d done.

And yet the mirror said otherwise.

My skin looked clearer. My eyes are brighter. Even the usual puffiness under my lids had vanished. I didn’t know whether to blame the guilt, the constant arousal, or the sex. Maybe all three.

I wore a simple blouse and pencil skirt that morning. Modest and familiar, but the way people looked at me, men and women. It felt different. 

There was something unspoken in their glances, in the slight pause before they responded to my “Good morning.” A subtle shift.

Jack barely spoke to me at first. Just a nod from across the room, as if acknowledging something that now lived between us. 

And yet I felt it in the way he watched. Not possessive, just aware. Like he’d unlocked something in me, and now he was watching it unfold.

Around noon, one of the younger team members leaned over during lunch and said, “You look radiant today. Did you go somewhere over the weekend?”

I laughed, awkwardly. “No, just rested.”

“Whatever it was, it’s working,” I smiled. “You’ve got that glow.”

I thanked her, pretending not to feel a pit open in my stomach.

That evening at home, my husband kissed me longer than usual. His hands lingered on my waist, like he was rediscovering me.

“You look so beautiful lately,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around me while I was making coffee. “Like something’s lit up in you.”

I froze for a second, then smiled weakly. “Maybe I just needed some sleep.”

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t sleep. It was something else entirely. Something dangerous.