The next morning, I walked into my office, feeling light—almost free. The weight of the affair, the stolen nights, the thrill and guilt—they seemed gone. Or so I thought.

The room hit me like a storm. My HR and senior managers sat waiting, their faces sharp and unyielding. My stomach twisted, a cold dread settling over me.

The shoot and the event were totally ruined, and Jack blamed it all on me. I tried to defend myself, but they fired me.

The realization shook me to my core. Somewhere inside, I knew this ruin might be the start of reclaiming myself. What would become of me now?

I reached the lobby, dragging my bag, and saw Jack waiting—his arrogant smirk still there. My chest tightened with anger, shame, and a familiar, dangerous ache.

“Alexis,” he said smoothly, stepping closer, his eyes fixed on mine.

“How could you do this to me?” I asked, my voice shaking with anger.

He smirked. “You wanted a fresh start. I’m giving you one.”

“After everything I’ve done, that’s what you say? I’ll report you for coercing me!” I threatened, my voice breaking.

He laughed. “Remember those videos? What will your husband think when he sees how his ‘loving wife’ was used by a dozen guys? What’s wrong with you now? You literally became my slut and did everything possible. And then you ended it—now deal with it.”

I froze, his words cutting deep, betrayal crashing over me.

“I can still save your job,” he said softly. “I’ve been thinking about you—about us. Just you and me this time, no one else. Anyway, we’ve been doing it for months.”

My stomach twisted as memories of every touch and betrayal pulled me under. Heat rose through me, but I steadied myself.

“No, Jack. Never again. I survived you once; I won’t fall again.”

He leaned closer, smirking. “You think you can resist me? You were made for this.”

“Enough. Pay me for what you took—and for what they paid you for me,” I demanded.

His face darkened. “You think I owe you? You rejected me. Maybe I should tell your husband how you ‘earned’ it.”

I whispered, trembling, “Revenge? After everything we’ve been through? After what you did to me in my own home?”

He smirked. “So what? You’re just a free-use body, Alexis. That’s the only reason you lasted in my office.”

I stepped back, tears blurring my vision. The man who once consumed me, stole my peace, and shattered my nights had now taken my dignity too.

My chest burned with heartbreak and rage. I had nothing left for him—not desire, not forgiveness, not trust.

Outside, the city moved on, indifferent. I unlocked my front door, but the familiar warmth of home did little to calm the storm inside me. Tears slid down my cheeks as I dropped my bag by the door.

“Honey?” My husband’s voice was gentle, filled with concern.

He wrapped me in his arms. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I got fired,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “The trip, the project—everything fell apart. They said it was my fault.”

He held me tighter, comforting me as he said, “We’ll figure it out. We always do. We’ll get through this together.”

We slipped back into our regular routine over the next few days. Then came the weekend when we sent the kids to my parents’ house and finally had some time to ourselves.

Later, in the bedroom, the moonlight painted silver stripes across the duvet. He lay beside me, his hand tracing the curve of my hip.

“You’ve been so stressed lately,” he murmured, his fingers dancing lightly over my skin. “Let me help you loosen up.”

“Mmm,” I hummed, turning to face him. His eyes, usually so earnest, held a gentle question.

He leaned in, his mouth finding mine. It was a slow, tender exploration, nothing like the desperate, frantic kisses I’d grown accustomed to.

His touch was soft, a quiet reassurance, and I opened to him, letting him draw me closer.

It felt clean and pure—a raw, overwhelming wave of emotion rising in my throat. Tears pricked at my eyes.

“What is it?” he pulled back slightly, his thumb wiping a tear from my cheek.

“Just you,” I managed, my voice thick. “I love you.”

A lie, a half-truth, a desperate plea for absolution. He smiled, a genuine, heartwarming smile. “I love you too, Alexis.”

His lips returned to mine, this time more passionate, and his hands brushed gently over my waist and back.

I let myself melt against him, allowing comfort and connection to replace the tension that had gripped me all day.

He went down on me, pleasuring me, and eating my pussy. I closed my eyes, gripped his hair, wrapped my legs around him, and let myself enjoy the moment.

As I was lying on the bed, he got over my breast, sat over it with his dick slapping my face. I smiled and kissed his dick, as he started slowly pumping my face.

I was looking at him as he slowly did it. Then he went down and touched his dick over my pussy.

He leaned over, pressing his warm weight over me, and kissing as he slowly entered my pussy.

We fucked for a while, but I got carried away. I asked him to lie down, and hold his legs closer to his torso.

As his dick pointed out, I turned around and took it in my ass as I sat over him. Then I leaned forward, on my hands and knees and slowly fucked like a dog.

We had our orgasm together, tangled in each other’s arms, the room went quiet except for our breathing. The air was thick with warmth and shared closeness, a fragile peace settling over us.

“That was intense,” he said softly, still catching his breath.

He turned to look at me, his eyes searching mine. “I’ve never— you’ve never been like that before.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “Just felt good,” I mumbled, pulling the sheet higher.

He didn’t press it. His hand stroked my hair. “You’re different, in a good way.”

A fresh wave of guilt washed over me, cold and sharp. Yet beneath it, a strange, unsettling peace settled in.

I held him tighter, my eyes staring into the dark. I had my husband back, truly. And it felt both wonderful and terribly wrong.

Leaving my job had felt freeing at first, but reality hit hard after a few months.

Bills piled up, school fees loomed, and every expense felt impossible. I even sold my jewelry—each piece a painful reminder of what I had lost.

I searched tirelessly for a job, but days stretched into months with no luck. Staying home, watching the walls close in, strained our marriage.

My husband’s new business drained money with little return, and arguments became frequent.

“You don’t understand how hard this is,” he snapped one evening.

“I do! I live it every day!” I shot back, my voice shaking. “I’m trying to find work, manage the kids, keep us afloat!”

The silence afterward was heavy. Every day felt like a battle—for money, for love, for us. Months passed, our savings nearly drained, and we barely had enough for day-to-day living.

Finally, I got a job in a new city—a fresh start, a chance to rebuild our lives. I was determined to make it work.

On the day of moving, I was stopped by a small voice. “Mommy, don’t go,” my youngest whispered, clutching my hand.

I knelt down, holding her close. “I’m going to work first, sweetheart. Once I’m settled, I’ll bring you and your brothers here. I promise.”

Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced a smile, hiding the ache in my chest.

The flight was long, and as the city unfolded beneath me, I felt a mixture of fear and hope. I was alone for now, but this was my chance to rebuild—to secure a future for us.

I threw myself into my new job, determined to start fresh and create stability for my family.

The city felt unfamiliar, the apartment quiet without their laughter, but I wasn’t completely alone.

I shared it with a new roommate, Morgan—the only person who knew about my family.

Everyone else in the office had no clue who I really was. I had sold my ring to afford the flight, leaving no trace of my past life behind.

Even from afar, arguments with my husband crept into our calls, a sharp reminder that distance didn’t erase tension.

Money worries, misunderstandings, and exhaustion made our conversations heavy and strained.

At work, I thrived. Within weeks, I became a familiar face—someone everyone sought out, included in all the gossip and office chatter.

Affairs, rumors, scandals—they whispered them to me, laughed with me, trusted me. Being recognized, part of the pulse of the office, was intoxicating.

Yet even amidst the excitement, a small, persistent ache reminded me of the quiet, ordinary life I had left behind and the family I longed to bring here once I was settled.

Months passed—nearly a year since I lost my previous job. My roommate, energetic and fearless, lived a life full of passion and adventure.

Single and uninhibited, she often shared stories of her active dating life, making me feel both amused and envious.

One weekend, after a massive argument with my husband left me reeling, she caught me sulking on the couch.

“Come on, Alexis,” she urged playfully. “Let’s go out. You need to unwind.”

“I’m too old for that,” I mumbled, but she refused to take no for an answer.

With a reluctant sigh, I agreed, letting her drag me out of my gloom for the first time in weeks.

Later that evening, knowing we would be out late, I started getting ready, carefully choosing my outfit and makeup.

As I moved around the apartment, I heard loud, unmistakable noises coming from her room. My cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. She had brought someone over, and the sounds from her moans filled the walls.

I froze for a moment, my hand lingering on my hairbrush as I listened. A part of me felt guilty for the stir of curiosity—a twinge of longing buried under fatigue and frustration.

I shook my head and tried to focus on myself, finishing my preparations, my heartbeat still quick from what I had just heard.

The guest finally left, leaving the apartment quiet again. I tiptoed to her room to see if she was ready to leave, but she was still sprawled on her bed, catching her breath.

When she saw me, she burst into laughter. “Oh my God, Alexis, if you wear that to the club, you’ll look like a grandma,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I frowned, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation.

“Here,” she said, hopping off the bed and rummaging through her closet. She pulled out a dress and tossed it toward me.

My heart skipped a beat. It was the boldest dress I had ever seen—tiny, tight, and daring, leaving very little to the imagination.

I stared at it, unsure whether to be mortified or secretly thrilled. “You really expect me to wear that?” I whispered, my cheeks burning.

“Absolutely,” she grinned. “Tonight, you’re going to feel alive again.”

We went out for a girls’ night. At the club, we enjoyed drinks and danced like no one was watching.

The music throbbed through my body, heavy and wild. Lights flashed, blurring into streaks as the alcohol took over.

A guy approached, asking me for a dance, but I refused. Even Morgan tried her best to convince me, but I didn’t join him. So she went with him.

I watched them dancing, her enjoying herself, laughing and moving a bit too close.

I went in for a refill, and when I returned, they were gone. I couldn’t see them, but I ignored it and focused on my drinks.

I stopped counting after the third drink, then stopped caring entirely. I laughed, I danced, I let everything go, becoming a younger, more reckless version of myself.

For once, I wasn’t the careful wife or the worried mother. I was just a woman lost—weightless, untethered from anything that could hurt me.

I went onto the dance floor, enjoying myself dancing alone. Then a guy came up, asking me for a dance, but the loud music made it impossible to hear what he was saying.

He leaned in to ask again, and I nodded yes, keeping my arms around his waist and my head near his shoulder. We started dancing, moving to the rhythm together.

The guy I was dancing with spun me around, pressing close. I noticed another man in front of me and gestured toward him.

I didn’t realize how we had moved from the center of the floor to the corner behind the pillars. My attention shifted between them, caught in the thrill of the music and the freedom of the night.

I leaned back slightly, holding the second guy’s hand as I pressed my body over the other guy behind me.

Without saying anything, I just leaned in for a kiss. My body weight was over the guy behind me, as I felt his hands making their way to my pussy and boobs.

He was slowly kissing my neck, shoulder, and back, and playing with my boobs and pussy while I continued kissing the second guy.

A sudden realization made me pause. I quickly stepped back, feeling a wave of guilt for losing myself so completely.

I finally spotted my roommate through the fading crowd, her hair messy, her eyes sparkling under the neon lights.

I hadn’t seen her since we entered; she had disappeared onto the dance floor with someone.

Now, she was laughing, glowing in a way I hadn’t seen before. When I reached her, she flashed me a teasing smile, her cheeks flushed from dancing.

“You vanished on me,” I said, trying to sound casual, though my voice trembled slightly from exhaustion.

She laughed and brushed my arm. “Oh, I was around,” she said, blushing.

There was something in her tone—soft, secret, and happy. I tilted my head, searching her face. “You look quite happy now,” I said quietly.

She bit her lip, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I was thirsty; I just needed a good time,” she whispered, smiling again.

I asked, “So did you get lucky?”

She smiled and said, “No. Kind of, but I wouldn’t call it lucky. I couldn’t find him again.”

Even when I looked, I couldn’t see the person she had been dancing with. She began to look a bit down.

I asked her, “What happened? It’s already done, so why do you care now?”

She looked frustrated. “I had a fun encounter, but that guy ditched me. I really wanted to continue, but he’s gone. I wouldn’t say I got lucky.”

I calmed her down and asked, “Do you want him, or do you want to find someone new?”

She smiled. “I’m not someone who chases everyone, but this situation is different.”

She sat at our table while I returned to the floor to find the guy who had approached me earlier.

I brought him back, and we introduced ourselves. My roommate flirted effortlessly, and he responded in kind.

Soon, she invited him to our place, and he agreed.

Later, all three of us left the club and started heading home. My roommate and I held hands, giggling, while he walked slightly behind, chatting with someone at the gate before leaving.

A man came up to us. My roommate looked excited and spoke with him privately. She then waved and said, “Can you cover for me? I’ll be home soon.”

I understood she was going to meet someone else. Meanwhile, I explained to the man with us, “She saw an old friend. She’ll be back at home. Let’s go.”

We booked an Uber and began the ride home. Sitting close, I noticed his hand brush my thighs.

I stopped him gently and whispered, “Save that for my friend.”

Back at the apartment, we discussed our brief interactions and shared a quiet laugh. I felt guilty yet exhilarated—a strange, intoxicating mix of emotions.

He leaned in for a kiss, and I just let it happen. We leaned back, holding each other closely as we kissed.

I was out of my mind, yet still in control. He reached toward me, but I stopped him. I only let him hold me and kiss me—nothing more.

We heard the familiar click of the apartment door. Morgan had returned. I quickly straightened myself and adjusted things around the room before she entered.

She looked vibrant and happy. She walked in and kissed the guy, then told him to wait in her room. Holding my hand, she led me to my room.

She looked so excited to talk. As soon as we entered the room, she hugged me tightly.

She said, this was the best day of her life. She fucked that guy in his car and he dropped her home.

This was for the first time in her life, she was going to have 3 guys on the same night. She was really excited to sleep with this one.

Then she went back to her room. I was really really horny by all that and really needed to relieve myself.

I pulled out my vibrator, and to the memories of my past experience, my trip with Jack and to the present sound of Morgan having fun, I started enjoying myself.

I sank onto the bed, guilt and regret twisting inside me. I didn’t want this, yet part of me ached with the reckless pull I had promised to resist.

I closed my eyes, torn, knowing one choice

could undo everything I had sacrificed to get here.

Little did I know what awaited to change my life. Stay tuned for the next part.