Connie wasn’t a very superstitious person, but from the moment she opened her eyes that morning, it seemed as if Friday the thirteenth was desperately trying to live up to its reputation.

Everything started when Connie’s alarm clock failed to go off. As her eyes fluttered open and she rolled out of bed groggily, she realized that she was supposed to wake up nearly half an hour earlier. She immediately jumped to her feet, a sense of urgency pushing her to get ready as quickly as she could. She had an early flight home today, and if she didn’t hurry, she’d miss her shuttle to the airport. Connie’s office had set up all the travel arrangements for the work conference, so it would be a mess if she missed her flight.

If waking up late was bad, things only got worse when it came time to get dressed. As she tugged on the zipper to her suitcase, her nostrils were assaulted with an overpowering scent of coconut. Pulling the lid of the suitcase open, she discovered a cracked shampoo bottle and a thick, sticky layer of shampoo covering all her clean clothes. Rifling through the mess, she managed to find one mismatched outfit that wasn’t soiled—a bright yellow skirt and a powder blue blouse. Everything else, including all her bras and panties, was completely unwearable.

“Well, I guess I’m going commando,” she sighed to herself. Thankfully, it was only about a two-hour flight, so she wouldn’t have to endure this embarrassing condition for long. Slipping into her only clean outfit, she paced into the bathroom to look in the mirror. It wasn’t great, but it could always be worse, she thought. Her nipples were somewhat obvious through the blouse, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. Connie freshened up her hair and makeup, resealed her suitcase full of contaminated clothes, and made her way to the hotel room’s door, where a bill was resting on the floor. Picking it up, she scanned the charges and let out a frustrated groan.

At the front desk, the clerk smiled politely but seemed distracted as he clicked and scrolled through the system. Connie rolled her eyes, aware of the young man’s repeated glances at her chest.

“Hmm,” the clerk said, “it looks like the room charge went to your personal card instead of your company’s account. I’m so sorry about that, ma’am. It’ll just be a minute to fix.”

It wasn’t a minute. It was forty-six. By the time she was handed a corrected receipt and a weak apology, the company shuttle to the airport was long gone, probably halfway to the terminal.

She stood on the sidewalk outside the hotel, blinking at the sunlight and trying to hail a cab. The rideshare app wasn’t much help either: forty minutes until the next available car. She swore under her breath, lugging her suitcase back and forth as she paced in front of the building.

She finally arrived at the airport two hours after she should have. Security lines snaked endlessly, filled with tourists and restless children. Connie felt every male eye on her as she raced to her gate, her breasts bouncing shamelessly as she ran as quickly as she could in her current state. Despite her best efforts, Connie arrived breathless at her gate just in time to watch her plane taxiing to the runway for takeoff. Frustrated, she trudged her way back to the ticket counter to try and find a new flight home.

At the counter, the airline employee clacked away at a maddeningly slow pace on the computer for a few minutes before offering a sympathetic frown that made Connie want to scream.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, typing at glacial speed, “but all flights to Boston are completely booked until Monday morning.”

“Monday?” Connie echoed. “There has to be something sooner. I don’t care if it’s a middle seat with a broken tray table—just get me home.”

“I wish I could,” the woman said apologetically. “But everything’s full. I can add you to the standby list, but it’s a long one.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Connie fumed. “I checked my bag. My suitcase is on that flight. Are you really saying that I’m stranded here, with no luggage, all weekend?”

“I’m truly sorry,” the woman replied. “I even looked at connecting multiple flights, and the best I could do would be to fly you out to Denver tomorrow, where you could take a flight to Minneapolis later that afternoon, Newark the following morning, and you could make it to Boston by Sunday evening. You’d get home about 12 hours earlier than if you waited here, but it would add almost $2000 to your total fare.”

Connie sighed and wandered away in a daze, defeated. She found an empty seat near a newsstand and sank into it, numb. Fishing her phone from her purse, she dialed her husband to share her bad news.

“Hey, honey,” she said when he answered. “I think I’ve been cursed. You got a minute?”

He listened patiently as she poured it all out: sleeping in, the shampoo-soaked clothes, the billing mess, the missed shuttle, the hours wasted, and the realization that she was stuck in a city she didn’t even like for three more days.

“I swear,” she muttered, rising to her feet and pacing the terminal floor, “if one more thing goes wrong today, I might actually explode. I guess Friday the thirteenth really is an unlucky day.”

“Honey, it’ll be fine,” her husband offered. “Would you like me to drive out there and pick you up? I know I’m supposed to work this weekend, but I could call in, hop in the car, and—”

“And drive fifteen hours to Chicago? I appreciate the offer, honey, I really do, but it’s not worth it. We need to save our time off for a vacation this summer, and besides, even if you left now, you wouldn’t get here until tomorrow, and we wouldn’t get home that much earlier than if I just waited until Monday. Let’s face it, I’m just trapped here.”

“In that case,” her husband offered, “just try and make the best of it. Do something exciting. You always say you want more adventure in your life—it seems like the universe gave you three days for one.”

“I know. It’s just that I didn’t want these three days,” she said, rubbing her temples.

Just as Connie was about to say something else, she felt a soft tap on her shoulder.

She turned, irritation already forming, but it dissolved instantly when her eyes landed on the man in front of her. He was breathtaking—tall and fit with a boyish charm and eyes that sparkled with something just short of mischief. From his suit to his smile, he seemed to drip with effortless confidence. Something about the stranger exuded charisma, as though he could control any situation with ease. For a moment, the chaos of her day fell completely silent in the eyes of this startlingly attractive man.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling with an easy charm. “I overheard a bit of your conversation. Sounds like you’ve had some bad luck. I thought maybe I could help.”

Connie blinked, flustered. “Um—yeah, I…” She turned halfway back toward her phone. “Hey, I’ll call you back, okay?”

There was a moment of silence on the line. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing. I just—just need to figure out what I’m doing next.”

She hung up.

The man’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m Rick.”

“Connie,” she said, still a little dazed.

“I know this is bold, but how about I make your day slightly less awful? There’s a little bistro not far from here. Quiet, cozy, decent wine, and the best lunch you’ll find in this city’s airport-adjacent wasteland.”

She gave a short, surprised laugh. “You don’t even know me.”

“Well, I know you’re stranded, stressed out, and definitely didn’t deserve the bad luck you’ve had today. And I know lunch is better with company.” His gaze was warm and direct. “Come on. It’s just lunch, nothing more. You need a win.”

Connie hesitated, her heart thudding faster than it should have.

“I’m married,” she said, lifting her left hand slightly, her wedding ring catching the light.

Rick glanced at it, then back at her eyes. “I noticed. I’m not trying to get you into trouble. I just thought you might want someone to talk to who isn’t an airline rep or a front desk clerk. It’s my treat.”

His voice was smooth but not sleazy, confident without arrogance. He wasn’t pressuring her—but he was inviting her, with a tone that made her feel like maybe she deserved something spontaneous and good after a day of small disasters. His confidence was so overpowering. So sexy.

She wavered. “It’s just lunch, and nothing more,” she said slowly, like she needed to hear the words out loud to justify them.

“Exactly.”

Connie found herself following Rick through the terminal, to the parking garage, and finally climbing into a black luxury SUV. A part of her wondered what she was doing, going along with this stranger, getting into his car like it was no big deal. For all she knew, the bistro wasn’t real, and Rick was going to abduct her. Another part of her didn’t care. He was confident. He was sexy. This man had only just met her, and in a few short minutes he’d made her feel a sense of excitement she hadn’t experienced in years.

The bistro Rick had mentioned turned out to be real—and charming. Warm wood floors, soft jazz playing, a quiet afternoon lull between the lunch rush and dinner prep. They were seated at a small table by the window, the midday sun slanting in golden and forgiving.

Connie found herself loosening up further, easing into conversation without realizing it. Rick was funny—surprisingly so—and he listened in a way that made her feel singular and seen. He asked about her work, guessed her drink order correctly, and teased her just enough to make her laugh.

She flirted, just a little. Or maybe a little more than a little. It felt harmless at first—catching his eye too long, brushing a piece of hair from her face, letting her smile linger after a compliment. It was like slipping into a role she hadn’t played in years: admired, pursued, intriguing. Rick was handsome. No, he was more than handsome. He was sexy, and the longer Connie sat in his presence, the more she found herself wanting to push her limits with him. Maybe this was just lunch, but maybe it could become more, something that could make her awful weekend… fun.

Then all at once, everything seemed to change. Connie and Rick were reaching across the table, holding hands as they flirted, Connie staring adoringly into Rick’s eyes. Just as she began laughing at one of Rick’s jokes, everything lost focus for a second, and she found herself blinking. Suddenly Rick wasn’t as irresistibly charming as she remembered. He wasn’t stunningly handsome, either—just fairly average. Suddenly she realized what she’d been doing. She was a faithfully married woman, having lunch and brazenly flirting with a complete stranger. She was basically out on a date with another man, holding his hands and staring into his eyes, all behind her husband’s back.

“We can’t be doing this,” Connie said abruptly, her eyes wide as she snatched her hand away from Rick’s. “My God, Rick, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t be here. I’m a married woman. Happily married. You’ve been so kind, and this isn’t your fault at all, but I think I’d really better go.” Connie pushed back from the table, preparing to stand up and leave.

“Connie, wait,” Rick said, his voice no longer carrying that indescribable charm that she’d found herself falling for moments earlier. “This will only take one second.” Connie paused, giving the man a questioning look as he fished a small box out of his pocket. “See,” he continued. “It just needs a new battery. Luckily I have one right here.”

Acting quickly, the man reached into his suit jacket pocket, producing a small, square battery. Opening up the device, he slid out the old battery, replacing it quickly and clicking the battery compartment shut. He pressed a button on the device and slipped it back into his pocket. Almost immediately, Connie felt a wave of disorientation. She let out a little gasp as her world seemed to lose focus. Her hands clutched the table for stability as she shook her head.

Then, almost as quickly as it came on, the disorientation vanished. Looking up from her lap and shaking the cobwebs out of her head, Connie was greeted once more by the sight of Rick—the confident, charming, sexy Rick that had swept her off her feet at the airport.

“Wh, what happened?” Connie asked, a look of confusion on her face.

“Oh, that was nothing to worry about,” Rick said with a charming wink that took Connie’s breath away before changing the subject. “I was actually thinking that we wrap things up here anyway. I can’t wait to show you my home. I think you’ll love it.”

“Your home?”

“Of course,” Rick replied. “I insist. You’re stuck here until Monday, right? Come back to my place as my guest. I promise it will be a weekend full of excellent conversation, good memories, and maybe even a few thrills.”

Rick put a flair into the end of his sentence that sent a warmth radiating through Connie’s body. Thrills, all weekend long. The woman wondered what sort of thrills Rick had in mind. She could definitely come up with a few on her own. As attractive as Rick was, it would be so easy to lose control, to give in to his charm and indulge herself in a weekend of dirty, sensual fun. That, Connie thought, would definitely be thrilling.

“But, Rick,” Connie finally said weakly, protesting more out of obligation than desire, “I told you, I’m married.”

“Oh, Connie,” he began, sending tingles up her spine as he said her name, “come close so I can tell you something.” He gestured for Connie to move in closer, and she obliged. The man reached out, taking her hands once more, giving her a smile that lit a white-hot fire between her legs.

“Connie,” he continued, “let’s be honest, shall we? I know the truth. You want me. You’ve never met a man like me before. Right now, your body is on fire with hunger. You want me. You want to feel my lips pressed up against yours. You want to feel my hands all over your body. You want me inside of you, doing things to you that your husband never could. It can be yours, Connie. All you have to do is tell me you want it, and we can spend the whole weekend intertwined in the throes of carnal, salacious lust.”

By the time he finished speaking, Connie was breathing heavily, her heart beating out of his chest. He was absolutely right about all of it. She wanted him. More than she wanted to be home. More than she wanted her husband. More than she wanted anything. If he asked, she’d probably hike up her skirt so he could fuck her right here on the table. Deep inside her, the woman knew something was off. She’d never felt like this before. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but the more she fought it, the harder it became.

“My husband…” she whimpered almost inaudibly, emptying herself of her last ounce of resistance.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rick answered, giving the woman a hungry smile. “I’m all that matters to you now, Connie. I’m your everything. I’m all that you want. Now come, and let’s get our weekend started.”

The man rose from the table, pulling Connie to her feet with him. A moment later, Connie was following Rick back to his car, her heart racing as she burned with desire. As he backed out of the parking stall, neither of them spoke a word. Then a moment later, Rick’s hand landed on her leg, causing her to let out a little gasp.

“Do you know when I knew I was going to make you mine?” Rick’s hand slid higher on the woman’s thigh as he spoke, his fingers slipping under her skirt.

“When?” Connie panted, feeling the warmth of his hand as it disappeared further and further under the yellow fabric.

“It was the moment you ran past me. I had just stepped off my flight, and there you were, racing down the terminal, tits swinging like a dirty slut. When I realized that you’d missed your flight, I knew I just had to have you.”

Rick’s hand brushed against Connie’s slit, eliciting a little whimper from the woman.

“Hmm,” Rick said with a smile. “No panties either. Just the way I like it.”

As he navigated the city streets, Rick’s hand went to work on the woman’s pussy. Connie let out a little gasp as he ran his fingers over her freshly shaven mound. Her gasp was followed by a groan as he slipped two fingers inside her, gently pumping her pussy. Connie found her hips almost involuntarily bucking against the man's hands, trying to take more and more of his digits as she closed her eyes and let out a moan. She knew this was wrong. She knew she was cheating. But Rick was just too hot for her to care.

Next, Rick circled her clit, his fingers still slick with her wetness. "You're a dirty little thing, aren't you?" he said, his voice low and gruff. Connie let out a shudder as his fingers worked her clit faster. Her hands instinctively roamed northward to her breasts, massaging them through the blue fabric. “That’s right,” he added, glancing momentarily from the road ahead of him. “Play with those tits. Show me how much you love this.”

Rick slipped his fingers back inside her, pumping them in and out with a brutal rhythm. Connie arched her back, pressing against his hand, her body betraying her need. "That's it, you fucking like that, don't you?" Rick taunted, his fingers curling inside her, hitting her sweet spot and making her moan. He leaned over...