Jess pushed through the glass doors of Austin Design Group’s office on Monday morning. The weekend’s revelations about Tom’s fantasies remained at the edge of her consciousness like a half-remembered dream. Vivid in parts, hazy in others, but impossible to fully dismiss.

She nodded at the security guard, a middle-aged man who always straightened his posture when she approached. His eyes followed her across the marble lobby, not lusty but definitely appreciative. Last week she might have ignored his attention entirely. Today, she noticed it, cataloged it, wondered if Tom would find it arousing if she mentioned it.

The thought made her cheeks warm as she stepped into the elevator.

“Hold the door!” Sam’s voice echoed across the lobby. She thrust her arm out to stop the closing doors, and he slid in beside her, slightly breathless. “Thanks. Morning, Jess.”

“Morning, Sam.” She pressed the button for the thirty-fourth floor.

Sam couldn’t quite hide his enthusiastic energy. “So,” he began. “Seems you made quite the impression on the investors.”

Jess raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“James Chen’s office reached out directly,” Sam confirmed. “And apparently, Chris Webb hasn’t stopped talking about the master suite design. Margaret’s been fielding calls over the weekend.”

The memory of Chris’ crude comments flooded back. How her mouth would look wrapped around his cock, how he’d like to see her ass turning pink under his hand. She forced a smile.

“That’s great news for the team,” she offered.

“Great news for you, you mean,” Sam corrected. “Everyone knows you were the driving force behind those designs. Annie and I were mostly support. This is your moment, Jess. Enjoy it.”

The elevator arrived at their floor, doors sliding open to reveal the office already buzzing with activity. Designers hunched over drafting tables, account managers paced while on calls, junior staff darted between desks with coffee and printouts.

“Anyway,” Sam said as they walked toward their desks, “congratulations. You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks, Sam,” she replied, unable to fully enjoy the praise when it felt so closely tied to Chris Webb’s sexual interest in her.

At her desk, Jess found a small arrangement of fresh flowers with a note in Margaret’s handwriting: “Excellent work on Friday. See me at 10.” She set down her bag and turned on her computer, mentally preparing for whatever lay ahead. The flowers were unlike Margaret, who typically showed approval through additional responsibilities rather than gestures of appreciation.

“Someone’s got an admirer,” Annie remarked, appearing beside Jess’s desk with two coffees. She handed one to Jess. “Margaret’s never sent me flowers, and I’ve been here longer than you.”

Jess accepted the coffee gratefully. “Thanks. I’m as surprised as you are. Margaret’s not exactly the nurturing type.”

“She is when she sees dollar signs,” Annie replied, sitting on the edge of Jess’s desk. “And you, my friend, have become a walking, talking profit center.” She sipped her coffee, studying Jess. “You okay? You seem… I don’t know. Different today.”

“Just tired,” Jess deflected. “It was a busy weekend.”

Annie nodded. “Well, get ready for things to get even busier. Margaret’s been in meetings since seven this morning. My money’s on multiple new projects coming our way.”

As Annie walked back to her desk, Jess’s phone buzzed with a text.

Tom: Morning, beautiful. How’s the office treating you today?

Jess smiled, typing back: Everyone’s acting weird. Apparently I’m the new golden child.

His response came quickly: No surprise there. Probably have clients fighting over you now.

She hesitated before typing: Security guard checked me out this morning. Thought you’d want to know. Her finger hovered over the send button for a moment before she pressed it, her heart beating slightly faster.

Three dots appeared immediately, then disappeared, then reappeared. Finally, she got a response.

Tom: What did he see that I’m missing right now?

So this was real. His fantasy wasn’t just talk. It genuinely turned him on to think about other men desiring her.

Jess: Black pencil skirt, white blouse. Nothing special, but he definitely noticed.

Tom: I bet he did. Probably imagining what’s underneath.

Jess: Meeting with Margaret at 10. Talk later xo

Tom: Good luck. Love you.

Jess set her phone aside and turned to her computer but her mind kept drifting. Was she really considering playing into Tom’s fantasy? Flirting with other men, letting them desire her, just to turn him on? The idea felt foreign yet oddly liberating.

As she tried to focus on emails, colleagues stopped by her desk to congratulate her on the Skyline presentation, each interaction reinforcing what Sam had said. Something had shifted in her professional standing. People were looking at her differently now, with new respect, new awareness.

Or had they always looked at her this way, and she was only now noticing because of Tom’s confession?

At precisely 9:55 AM, Jess stood and made her way to Margaret’s office where Margaret DeVore sat behind a large mahogany desk.

Jess knocked softly on the glass door.

Margaret looked up and gestured for Jess to enter.

“Jessica,” Margaret said. “Sit.”

Jess settled into one of the chairs facing Margaret’s desk.

“Thank you for the flowers,” Jess began. “They weren’t necessary, but I appreciate the gesture.”

“You earned them,” Margaret replied. “The Skyline presentation was flawless. More importantly, it’s already generating substantial interest in our firm.” She leaned forward slightly. “Chris Webb personally called me Saturday to express his appreciation for your work. So did James Chen.”

Jess nodded, keeping her expression neutral despite the knot forming in her stomach. “I’m glad they were pleased with the designs.”

“Pleased is an understatement,” Margaret replied. “They were impressed. Chen mentioned a development in Houston he’d like us to consult on. And Webb is determined to have you on the team for the Savannah hotel project.”

“Savannah…” Jess echoed. “What exactly is the scope there?”

“Full interior renovation of an 1850s mansion being converted into a boutique hotel. Sixteen rooms, each unique, plus common areas, restaurant, bar. It’s a dream project, Jessica. The kind that wins awards and features in design magazines.”

“It sounds incredible,” Jess admitted. And it did. Professionally speaking, it was exactly the type of project she’d always wanted. Creative freedom, historical context, luxury budget.

“When would that project begin?”

“That’s the complication,” Margaret said. “Both projects are slated to kick off within weeks of each other. Savannah in about a month, right after Skyline ends. Houston shortly after.” She leaned forward slightly. “Can you handle both simultaneously?”

“Yes,” Jess answered without hesitation. The professional opportunity was too significant to pass up, regardless of her personal discomfort. “I believe I can.”

Margaret nodded, satisfaction evident on her face. “I thought you might say that. I’ve already started assembling support teams for both projects. You’ll have substantial resources.”

“Thank you for your confidence in me.”

“You’ve earned it,” Margaret replied simply. She glanced at her watch. “The Savannah and Houston projects will require significant preparation. I’ll have my assistant send over the preliminary briefs in a week so you can start familiarizing yourself with the parameters.”

“I appreciate that,” Jess said.

“One more thing before you go,” Margaret added, her tone shifting to something more mentorly. “These high-profile clients can be demanding. If you need additional resources or support as you juggle these projects alongside Skyline’s completion, don’t hesitate to ask. My door is always open.”

“Thank you, Margaret. That means a lot.”

Margaret nodded, already reaching for her ringing phone. “That’s all for now. We’ll set up project planning meetings for later this week.”

Back at her desk, Jess stared at her computer screen without really seeing it. The opportunity Margaret had just presented was career defining. Under normal circumstances, she’d be ecstatic, already planning concepts and sketching ideas. Instead, she felt trapped, caught between professional ambition and personal dignity.

Her phone buzzed with another text from Tom: How was the meeting?

Jess hesitated before replying: Interesting. She says Webb and Chen both want me for upcoming projects. Career making stuff.

Tom responded immediately: That’s incredible! Told you they’d be fighting over you. So proud of you, babe.

She typed back: Thanks. Tell you more tonight.

She set her phone down and immersed herself in work. By lunchtime, Jess had almost managed to push thoughts of Webb and Chen to the back of her mind.

Rather than joining colleagues in the break room, Jess opted to eat at her desk, a salad she’d picked up from the building’s café downstairs. As she stabbed at cherry tomatoes, her mind returned inevitably to the weekend’s revelations, to Tom’s confession about his fantasies, to the strange mix of shock, confusion, and, if she was completely honest with herself, curiosity that had followed.

The memory of last week’s bathroom photos flooded back. It was the thrill of taking them, knowing the effect they’d have on him. And then the panties at the restaurant, the way his eyes had widened when she’d slipped them into his palm.

There had been a freedom in those moments, a reclaiming of her sexuality that had gotten lost somewhere. She’d felt bold, desired, almost reckless. It reminded her of the rush she’d felt during her modeling days, particularly that shoot with Georgio. The way he’d directed her, encouraged her to embrace her sensuality, to own the power of it. The way strangers had looked at those photos, admired them, desired her through them.

Her computer pinged with a new email, breaking her daydream:

Dear Jessica,

I’ve spoken with Margaret regarding your potential involvement in our Savannah hotel renovation. Your work on Skyline has been nothing short of exceptional, showcasing exactly the vision and attention to detail this historic property deserves.

I’ll be in Austin until Friday and would appreciate the opportunity to discuss the project in more detail. Would you be available for dinner Thursday evening? Le Bernardin at 7pm would allow us the privacy and quiet to review preliminary concepts without interruption.

Please let me know at your earliest convenience.

Regards,

Chris Webb

Jess stared at the screen, her appetite vanishing. Thursday. When Tom would be in San Diego. The timing couldn’t be more convenient for Webb, or more problematic for her.

Jess read the email twice, noting the professional language that nonetheless carried undertones she couldn’t ignore. “Privacy and quiet” sounded innocuous on the surface, but after overhearing his crude comments, she couldn’t help questioning his intentions.

She closed the email without responding, needing to think carefully about how to handle this.

By the time Jess packed up to head home, the office had largely emptied out, just a few dedicated souls still hunched over their desks.

—

At home, Jess kicked off her heels in the entryway and made her way to the kitchen. She glanced at the nearly completed backsplash. It was exactly as stunning as Bob had promised it would be.

She poured herself a glass of red wine and moved to the living room, sinking onto the couch.

Her phone rang, Madi’s name and photo appearing on the screen. Jess felt a rush of relief at the sight. If anyone could help her make sense of the chaos in her mind, it was Madi.

“Hey,” she answered, taking a sip of wine.

“Finally!” Madi’s voice was an immediate infusion of energy. “I’ve been dying to hear about the party. How’d it go? Big success? Did all those investors fall at your feet?”

Jess laughed. “Something like that. The presentation went well, actually. Really well. Margaret’s been fielding calls from clients who want me for their next projects.”

“See? What did I tell you? You’re a goddamn rock star.” Madi’s pride was almost tangible through the phone. “And how’d that dress work out? Was it as devastating as we predicted?”

“It was a hit,” Jess confirmed.

“I knew it!” A pause, then, “How was the rest of the weekend when Tom got home?”

Jess took another sip of wine, steadying herself. “We talked. A lot, actually.”

“Talked, huh?” Madi’s tone carried amusement. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“That too,” Jess laughed. “We had a lot to catch up on.”

“And?” Madi prompted when Jess didn’t immediately continue.

“And you were right,” Jess admitted. “About Tom. About what turns him on.”

There was a moment of silence, then Madi’s voice came back more measured, intrigued. “You asked him about it? About getting turned on when other men want you?”

“I didn’t have to ask,” Jess replied. “He told me himself.”

“Holy shit,” Madi breathed. “I was right! What did I tell you? Damn, I should’ve been a therapist instead of an event planner.”

“Don’t quit your day job,” Jess teased.

“So what exactly did he say? Like, specifically?” Madi’s voice had that hungry edge it always got when she sensed juicy information.

Jess sank deeper into the couch, cradling the wine glass. “He said that he fantasizes about me with other men. Not just flirting, Madi. He imagines me having sex with them.”

“Wow,” Madi said. “That’s… intense. How do you feel about it?”

“Confused? Surprised?” Jess struggled to articulate the mix of emotions. “But also… I don’t know. Maybe a little intrigued?”

“Intrigued?” Madi echoed, a note of excitement creeping into her voice. “As in, you’re considering it?”

“Not the sex part,” Jess clarified quickly. “Just… maybe the flirting? I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“Of course it’s complicated. But also potentially hot as fuck.” Madi paused. “So what brought this on? Why did Tom suddenly confess all this?”

Jess shared what had happened at the party, that she’d overheard some clients making suggestive comments, and Tom’s reaction had revealed his unexpected turn on.

“Let me get this straight,” Madi said slowly. “You heard these rich powerful guys talking about wanting to fuck you, and when you told Tom, instead of getting angry, he got turned on?”

“Basically,” Jess confirmed. “And then he explained that it’s been a fantasy of his for a while. Like, an evolution of his jealousy from when we were first dating.”

“Mmhmm,” Madi hummed, and Jess could practically see her nodding. “That tracks with what little I’ve read about it. The cuckold thing often starts as jealousy that transforms into arousal. The threat becomes a thrill.”

“It’s not a cuckold thing,” Jess protested. “He just… likes knowing other men find me attractive. He said he fantasizes about me sleeping with men. He’s not asking me to.”

“Not yet,” Madi added.

“Madi!”

“What? I’m just saying, fantasies have a way of escalating.”

Jess sighed, conceding the point. “I don’t know.”

“So what’s the plan? Are you going to test it out? Give Tom a little taste to see how he really reacts?”

The directness of the question caught Jess off guard. “I… I don’t know. Maybe?”

“You already did, didn’t you?” Madi’s intuition was uncanny. “I can hear it in your voice. You tried something.”

Jess felt her cheeks warm. “Nothing major. I just… may have teased him a little about Bob.”

“Bob? The old guy? Your tenant?” Madi’s voice rose in surprise.

“Yeah. Tom has this idea that Bob has a crush on me, and I joked about flirting with him to see if he was right.”

“And?” Madi was practically breathless with anticipation.

“And he got hard instantly,” Jess admitted. “Just from me suggesting it.”

“Holy shit,” Madi whispered. “This is hot. Like, seriously hot. But also kind of dangerous, Jess. Playing these kinds of games with someone who lives in your house? Who you’re kind of dependent on for rent and repairs?”

“I know,” Jess sighed. “That’s why it’s just talk for now. Besides, Bob doesn’t see me that way. He’s just a lonely guy who likes fixing things.”

“Mmhmm,” Madi hummed skeptically. “Men are simple creatures, Jess. Show a straight man a beautiful woman being friendly, and he’ll convince himself she wants him. Especially an older guy who’s probably not getting much attention… especially from women like you.”

“You make it sound so predatory,” Jess protested. “Bob’s been nothing but respectful.”

“I’m sure he has,” Madi replied. “To your face. But trust me, behind closed doors? He’s imagining what you look like naked.”

“Madi!”

Madi laughed. “So Bob’s the test subject, then?”

“No!” Jess protested. “I was just teasing Tom. I have no intention of actually flirting with our tenant. That would be… inappropriate.”

“Right, because inappropriate isn’t exactly what this whole fantasy is about,” Madi said sarcastically. “Look, I’m not saying you should jump into bed with the guy. But if Tom’s into the idea of you flirting with other men, Bob’s a ready-made opportunity. He’s there, he’s apparently into you, and he’s not part of your social circle so there’s less risk of messy complications.”

Presented so logically, it almost made sense. “I hadn’t thought about it that way,” Jess admitted.

“That’s why you have me,” Madi replied smugly. “To point out the obvious. By the way, is Tom going to be home tonight? Or do I need to come rescue you from an evening of solo Netflix?”

“He’ll be home, but he’s leaving for San Diego again on Wednesday.”

“What? Already? He just got back!”

“I know,” Jess sighed. “Same client, same crisis. He’ll be gone Wednesday through Friday again.”

“That sucks,” Madi said sympathetically.

Jess heard the front door open. “He’s home,” she said. “I should go.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Madi insisted. “Every. Single. Detail. But go tend to your man. Call me tomorrow?”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you more. Bye, babe.”

Jess ended the call as Tom appeared on top of the steps looking exhausted. His tie was loosened, his normally perfectly styled hair slightly tussled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it in frustration all day.

“Hey,” she said, rising to greet him. “Rough day?”

“The roughest,” he confirmed, dropping his briefcase. “Davis is on the warpath about timelines. I spent most of the day on damage control.”

Jess pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and he returned it automatically. “Come on,” she said, taking his hand. “I’ve got dinner ready to heat up.”

Tom followed her to the kitchen, where his eyes immediately moved to the arrangement of fresh flowers sitting in the center of their dining table. His brow furrowed.

“Where’d those come from?” he asked, nodding toward the arrangement.

Jess glanced at the flowers as she pulled a container of pasta from the refrigerator. “Margaret sent them. They were on my desk this morning.”

Tom’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Margaret? Ice Queen of Austin Design Group? That Margaret?”

“Yes, that Margaret,” Jess confirmed with a smile. “Apparently, I made quite the impression at the party.”

“Impressive,” Tom said, genuinely amazed. “In the years I’ve known you to work for her, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of her sending flowers.”

“I know,” Jess agreed, transferring pasta from the container to a plate. “It caught me off guard too. Annie actually came over to ask who my secret admirer was.”

Tom approached the arrangement, bending to examine it more closely. “Must have been some presentation,” he commented, touching one of the petals lightly.

“It was,” Jess confirmed, sliding the plate into the microwave.

Tom leaned against the counter while Jess moved around the kitchen. His eyes drifted to the nearly completed backsplash, the stone gleaming under the kitchen lights.

“Backsplash looks amazing,” he commented, gesturing toward the installation. “Bob does good work.”

“He does,” Jess agreed. “He’s coming back tomorrow to apply the sealer, remember?”

“Right,” Tom nodded, his tone slightly distant.

She retrieved his dinner from the microwave and set it on the table with a fork.

“Wine?” she offered, already reaching for a glass.

“God, yes,” he replied, settling at the dinner table and digging into the pasta. “This day deserves alcohol.”

As she poured the wine, Jess studied his profile. There was tension in his shoulders and jaw that went beyond normal work stress.

“You mentioned something about Webb and Chen?” Tom asked between bites. “New projects?”

“Yeah,” Jess leaned against the counter, swirling her wine. “Both want me to lead design teams for their upcoming projects. Savannah for Webb, Houston for Chen.”

“That’s incredible, Jess,” Tom said, genuine pride breaking through his exhaustion. “Though not surprising.”

“Margaret thinks I can handle both at the same time,” Jess continued. “It would be a lot of work, but the opportunity is career defining”

“Of course you can handle both. You’re brilliant at what you do.”

His immediate faith in her abilities warmed something inside her. This was the Tom she’d fallen in love with, the man who had always seen her capabilities, who had encouraged her to push beyond her comfort zone professionally.

Jess took a deep breath, deciding to dive into the more complicated aspect. “Webb wants to discuss the Savannah project over dinner this Thursday,” she said, keeping her tone casual while watching for Tom’s reaction.

Tom’s fork paused halfway to his mouth, his eyes finding hers. “Dinner? Just the two of you?”

“That’s what his email implied,” Jess confirmed, taking a sip of her wine.

“How do you feel about that? After what you overheard at the party.”

Jess sighed, setting her glass down. “I don’t know. But the email was completely professional.”

“What exactly did his email say?”

“Just that he wants to discuss the Savannah project in person over dinner Thursday.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was very professional language. His assistant will coordinate details tomorrow if I accept.”

“You haven’t accepted yet?” Tom raised an eyebrow.

Jess bit her lip. “No. I know I should.” She hesitated. “But after overhearing him at the party, a small part of me wants to say no. Just find some excuse.”

Tom took a long sip of wine, his expression thoughtful. “Jess, I get your hesitation after what you heard him say…” He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “But looking at it strictly professionally, this project could be huge for you.”

“I know,” Jess sighed. “That’s what makes this so complicated. If I turn it down, I’m potentially damaging my career over some comments he never intended me to hear. If I go…” She trailed off.

“You’re potentially putting yourself in an uncomfortable situation with someone who’s already shown his true colors,” Tom finished for her.

Jess nodded, relieved he understood her predicament. “Exactly.”

Tom cleared his throat. “What if you suggested a different arrangement? Lunch instead of dinner? Or bring someone else from the office?”

“I could,” Jess considered. “But I doubt he’d take it well. Men like Webb expect things to happen on their terms.”

Tom took another bite of pasta, chewing thoughtfully. “If you do decide to go, what would make you feel comfortable?”

The question surprised her. She’d expected him to either discourage her from going entirely or, given his newly revealed fantasies, to show more obvious excitement. This measured, thoughtful approach was unexpected.

“I’d keep it professional,” Jess said firmly. “Meet at the restaurant, discuss the project, and leave. No drinks at the hotel bar afterward, no matter how much he might push for it.”

Tom nodded, his expression unreadable. “That sounds reasonable.”

Jess studied him, trying to gauge his true feelings. “I’d make it clear I’m happily married. Keep my wedding ring visible the entire time.”

“Would that stop him?” Tom asked.

“Men like Webb?” Jess laughed dryly. “No. In my experience, wedding rings just make them more determined.”

Tom set down his fork and reached for his wine, taking another long sip as if to steady himself. “So you think he’s going to pursue you regardless.”

“I think he’ll try,” Jess acknowledged, meeting Tom’s gaze directly. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll succeed. I can handle Chris Webb.”

“I know you can,” Tom said.

“Here’s a better question,” Jess said, deciding to address the elephant in the room. “How do you feel about me having dinner with a man who’s made it clear he wants to sleep with me?”

Tom met her gaze directly. “Honestly? I’m… concerned for your comfort. I hate the idea of anyone disrespecting you.”

“But?” Jess prompted, sensing the unspoken caveat.

“But,” Tom admitted, “there’s another part of me that finds it kind of… hot. The idea of knowing how badly he wants you.”

Jess felt a flutter in her stomach at his admission. The rawness of his honesty was both unsettling and strangely intimate.

“Can I suggest something?” Jess said, setting her glass down. “Given everything we talked about this weekend… about your fantasies…”

Tom’s eyes snapped to hers. “What about them?”

“Maybe Chris Webb isn’t the best person to start with. I mean, he’s a professional connection. There’s too much at stake.” She leaned forward slightly. “What if we tried something… simpler first? Less complicated.”

“What did you have in mind?” Tom asked, his tone careful but intrigued.

“I don’t know. Maybe a stranger at a bar?” Jess suggested. “Someone with no connection to our professional lives. Just a harmless flirtation to see how it feels. For both of us.”

Tom’s expression shifted from surprise to consideration. “That could be fun,” he admitted. “But I’m leaving for San Diego on Wednesday, remember?”

“We could try when you get back,” Jess offered. “Maybe the weekend?”

“That could work,” Tom nodded.

Jess hesitated, Madi’s words from their phone call echoing in her mind. “What about Bob?”

Tom nearly choked on his wine. “Bob? What about him?”

Jess shrugged, aiming for casual despite the rapid beating of her heart. “He’ll be here tomorrow to finish the backsplash. And you said yourself you think he has a crush on me.”

“Did you…” Tom set his glass down. “Did you tell Madi about our conversation?”

“Only a bit,” Jess replied, feeling a slight flush rise to her cheeks. “Just that you’re turned on by other men finding me attractive.”

Tom nodded slowly, processing this information. “And Madi suggested Bob?”

“She made some interesting points,” Jess said, watching Tom’s reaction closely. “About how he’s not part of our social circle. And he’s already around the house, so it’s a controlled environment.”

“You’re really considering this?” Tom asked.

“I thought it might be easier to start with Bob than a complete stranger,” Jess explained. “But if you have a problem with it-”

“No,” Tom interrupted, surprising himself with how quickly the response came. “I mean, my first thought is no because of the way he looks at you.”

“But that’s part of the fantasy, isn’t it?” Jess asked quietly. “Knowing someone wants what’s yours?”

Tom ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that’s why another part…” He trailed off.

“Another part?” Jess prompted gently.

 “Another part of me… says yes. That I don’t have a problem with it.”

“You don’t?” Jess studied his face, noting the flush spreading across his cheeks. “Because when we were on the phone last week, you seemed pretty uncomfortable with Bob being alone with me.”

Tom shifted in his chair, clearly struggling to articulate his thoughts. “That was different. I wasn’t there, and I was worried about a complete stranger being alone with you.”

“But we’ve gotten to know him better since then,” Jess pointed out. “He’s been in our home, working on our kitchen. We’ve had dinner together. He’s been nothing but respectful the entire time.”

“True,” Tom agreed. “And the idea of you flirting with him…” He cleared his throat. “It’s…”

“It’s what?” Jess pressed, sensing his arousal beneath his discomfort.

Tom met her eyes, a flash of vulnerability in his gaze. “It’s kind of hot,” he admitted.

Jess smiled. “How would I do it?” she asked innocently. “Flirt with him, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe… wear something that shows you off? Laugh at his jokes?”

“Or maybe,” Jess continued, “I could wait until you’re in San Diego. Give you something to think about while you’re away.”

“Jess…”

“Would it torture you?” she pressed. “Sitting in meetings, imagining Bob watching me while I wear those tight leggings Brandon said would give someone a heart attack?”

“Jesus,” Tom groaned.

“Would you want me to tell you about it? Call you afterward?”

Tom swallowed hard. “Of course.”

Jess took a deep breath, changing the direction of the conversation while considering her next words carefully. “So, I know we’re playing a game, but I have to decide what I’m comfortable with, Tom. This can’t just be about turning you on. It has to make sense for me too.”

“Of course,” Tom said immediately. “Your comfort and safety come first. Always.”

“Thanks,” Jess said softly.

Tom nodded. “Just know that whatever you do, I support you.”

After clearing their plates, they moved to the couch with fresh glasses of wine. The conversation drifted to Tom’s upcoming trip, details about the Meridian implementation, plans for Tuesday night before he left.

Jess found herself stealing glances at Tom, wondering how their relationship had arrived at this unexpected juncture. Six years together, and she was only now discovering this hidden desire of his. It made her wonder what other secrets might be buried beneath their comfortable routine.

As they prepared for bed, Jess’s mind spun with possibilities. The dinner with Chris Webb was in her thoughts, a professional opportunity laced with potential danger. She knew she should be focused on the career implications, on strategizing how to handle a powerful man with questionable intentions.

Instead, her thoughts circled back to Bob, to the unsettling possibility of deliberately flirting with him. How would she do it? What would she wear? Would she really have the courage to do it?

Later, in bed, with Tom’s arms wrapped around her, Jess felt a peculiar mix of emotions. Excitement and apprehension, curiosity and caution.

Jess closed her eyes, her decision developing in the darkness. She would accept Webb’s dinner invitation with professional enthusiasm. Her career demanded it. She would handle him professionally, firmly establishing boundaries while securing her place on the Savannah project.

And tomorrow, when Bob came to finish the backsplash, she would begin her experiment, testing the waters of this new reality. Nothing extreme, nothing that would truly compromise their landlord-tenant relationship. Just enough to see how it felt, to discover if the reality matched the fantasy that had ignited unexpected passion between her and Tom.

A realization struck her as she drifted toward sleep. She wasn’t just doing this for Tom. She was doing it for herself too, reclaiming a part of her identity she’d packed away when she’d left modeling. That sense of being seen, of commanding attention, of wielding the unique power that came from being the beautiful Jessica Marshall.

—

Bob Caldwell checked his watch as he walked up to the Marshalls’ front door Tuesday morning at 9:57 AM. Perfect timing. Tom would be firmly entrenched in his office miles away, and Jess would be working from her home office. He’d confirmed this pattern over the past week, noting their comings and goings like a hunter studying prey.

He held his toolbox in one hand and a plain brown shopping bag in the other. Inside the innocuous brown bag were three smoke detectors, two regular ones and a special one with a tiny camera built into its housing. The device was a marvel of engineering, nearly undetectable unless you knew what to look for, capable of capturing both video and audio, transmitting directly to his laptop.

This was different from the panty theft. That had been impulsive and animalistic. This was deliberate, calculated, a permanent intrusion into their most private space. If he was caught, there’d be no explaining it away. But the potential reward… Christ, the thought of having unlimited access to Jess’s most intimate moments made his cock stir in his pants.

“Keep it together,” he muttered to himself as he reached out and pressed the doorbell. The chime echoed inside the house, followed by the faint sound of movement. He composed his features into the mask of humble helpfulness. Just good ol’ Bob the handyman, always ready to lend a hand, never wanting anything in return except, perhaps, a smile and a cup of coffee.

Moments later, the door swung open, and there she stood.

Jessica Marshall, fucking hell. She wasn’t dressed for the office, but she wasn’t exactly dressed for a lazy day at home either. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a casual ponytail, with a few strands artfully escaping. She wore a fitted deep blue V-neck t-shirt that hugged her breasts just right, not overtly sexual but still enough to make a man notice. Her legs were encased in those black leggings women seemed to live in these days, the material clinging to her ass and thighs like a second skin.

But it wasn’t just her appearance that hit him like a sledgehammer. It was her smile. Warm, genuine, lighting up her entire face in a way he hadn’t seen directed at him before.

“Bob!” she exclaimed, as if his arrival was the highlight of her morning. “Right on time.”

“Always am,” he replied with a smile. “Punctuality’s the one virtue I’ve managed to hang onto.”

Jess laughed. “Come on in,” she invited, holding the door wider. “I was just making coffee. Would you like some?”

“Wouldn’t say no,” Bob replied, stepping in.

Her enthusiasm caught him off guard. In their previous interactions, she’d always been friendly but a bit reserved, maintaining that careful distance that beautiful women instinctively created around themselves for protection. Today, something felt different. The barrier seemed thinner somehow.

Bob followed her up the stairs, his eyes fixed on the hypnotic sway of her hips. Those leggings were practically pornographic. He wondered if she knew what she was doing, wearing those around him. Probably not. Women like Jess were used to men looking. They became desensitized to it.

“Working from home today?” he asked casually as they reached the top of the stairs.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays,” she confirmed, leading him into the kitchen. “The office gets chaotic sometimes. It’s easier to focus here.”

His nearly completed backsplash transformed the kitchen exactly as he’d promised, the natural stone adding depth and character to the room.

“Backsplash looks even better in the daylight,” he commented, setting his toolbox on the counter. “Just needs the sealer to protect it.”

“It’s gorgeous, Bob,” Jess said, genuine appreciation in her voice. She moved closer to examine it, standing beside him. “You were absolutely right about it. I can’t believe the difference.”

She moved to the coffee maker, reaching up to open a cabinet above it. The motion caused her shirt to ride up slightly, revealing a strip of tanned skin at her lower back. Bob drank in the sight, imagining running his tongue along that exposed flesh.

“How do you take your coffee?” she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder, highlighting that body, that perfect ass.

“Black’s fine,” he replied.

“A man of simple tastes,” she observed with a small smile. “I should have guessed.”

“Nothing wrong with appreciating the basics,” he replied, watching as she poured two mugs. “But I know quality when I see it.”

Jess handed him a steaming mug, their fingers brushing briefly during the exchange. The simple contact sent electricity up his arm. God, he was behaving like a teenager, getting worked up over the slightest touch.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a careful sip. It was too fancy for his taste, some gourmet shit Tom probably insisted on.

Jess leaned against the counter opposite him, cradling her own mug. “So, backsplash today. How long will the process take?”

“Not long,” Bob assured her. “Hour, maybe less. It’s simple work.”

“And then we’re officially done with the kitchen reno?”

“This phase, anyway,” Bob replied with a smile. “But there’s always more that can be done. Cabinet hardware, under cabinet lighting, maybe some floating shelves on that wall.” He gestured toward an empty section. “A kitchen’s never really finished, just paused.”

Jess laughed. “You sound just like me with my design projects. There’s always one more thing that could be perfect.”

“Exactly,” Bob agreed. “The curse of people who care about their work.”

She seemed to consider him for a moment, her head tilted slightly. “Speaking of which, I got some exciting news yesterday. I made some connections at last week’s party, and they want me to be part of their design teams for upcoming projects.”

“That’s fantastic,” Bob said with genuine enthusiasm. “Not surprised, though. Talent always gets recognized eventually.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her smile widening. “One project’s in Houston, the other’s in Savannah. It’ll mean some travel, but the opportunity’s too good to pass up.”

“Savannah’s beautiful,” Bob commented. “All that history, the architecture… perfect setting for someone with your eye.”

Jess looked pleased by his compliment. “The project’s a boutique hotel in the historic district. Converting an 1850s mansion. I’m really excited about it.”

“You should be,” Bob replied. “But with you traveling for work and Tom gone on business, might not see much of each other.”

Something flickered across her face, quickly masked.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, her tone light. “But it is ironic that just as Tom’s travel increases, mine will too.”

“Marriage is about finding your rhythm,” Bob offered, slipping into his wise old man persona. “The coming together and moving apart. Like a dance.”

“Poetic,” Jess remarked with a small smile. “You’re full of surprises, Bob.”

“Been around long enough to learn a few things,” he replied modestly. “Two marriages teach you what works and what doesn’t.”

Jess sipped her coffee. There was curiosity in her eyes, something searching that hadn’t been there before.

“What would you say is the most important thing you’ve learned?” she asked. “About relationships, I mean.”

The question seemed genuine, not just polite conversation. Bob allowed himself a moment to consider his response, sensing an opportunity to deepen the connection between them.

“Communication,” he said finally. “Not just talking, but really hearing each other. Being present.” He set his mug down, leaning forward slightly. “That was my biggest mistake both times, being physically present but mentally elsewhere. By the time I figured that out, the damage was done.”

Jess nodded, her expression thoughtful. “That makes sense. It’s easy to take each other for granted, to forget why you fell in love in the first place.”

“Exactly,” Bob agreed. “And then one day, you wake up next to a stranger.”

Neither spoke for several seconds, the casual conversation heavier than warranted.

“Well,” Jess said, straightening up. “I should let you get to work.”

“Right,” Bob nodded, draining the last of his coffee. “Oh, nearly forgot to mention, brought something else that might interest you.”

Jess raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in her expression. “What’s that?”

Bob reached into the bag and pulled out one of the smoke detectors. “Was cleaning out some inventory and found these. Brand new. Noticed your smoke detectors are older models.”

Jess glanced up at the ceiling where the existing detector was mounted, its once white plastic now yellowed with age. “They came with the house,” she acknowledged. “We’ve never replaced them.”

“Most people don’t until they fail,” Bob said with a nod. “These new ones have ten-year batteries. Also detect carbon monoxide, which your old ones don’t. Real peace of mind.”

It was a practiced speech, one he’d given countless times to justify upgrades on renovation projects. The difference was, this time, he actually had a personal stake in convincing her.

“That makes sense,” Jess said, eyeing the device in his hand. She bit her lower lip thoughtfully, drawing his attention to her mouth. “How much do we owe you for them?”

Bob waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing. Like I said, they were just sitting in my inventory. Can’t even remember what job they were originally for. I can install them for you after I finish the backsplash. Might take half an hour tops.”

Jess seemed to hesitate, though he couldn’t tell whether it was genuine or just politeness. She took a step toward him, closing some of the distance between them.

“You’ve already done so much,” she protested, though her tone lacked conviction. “We should at least pay for the detectors.”

“Absolutely not,” Bob insisted. “Consider it my contribution to your safety. Can’t have anything happening to my favorite landlords, can I?” He held her gaze, letting a hint of genuine affection show.

“Well, if you’re sure,” she relented, looking up at him. “That’s really thoughtful of you, Bob. Thank you.”

“Happy to help,” he replied with a modest smile. “Now, let me get started on that backsplash. Sealer needs time to dry.”

As Bob worked on the backsplash, applying the sealer, Jess settled at the dining table with her laptop. It all felt oddly intimate. Him working in her kitchen, her at her computer, like they shared this space regularly. Like he belonged here.

The process of sealing the backsplash was straightforward, allowing his mind to wander. He pictured the smoke detector with its hidden camera, imagined the perfect angle that would capture both the bed and the closet entrance. Would he see her changing? Would he catch her in intimate moments with Tom? Or would he perhaps witness her alone, pleasuring herself when Tom was away?

An hour later, Bob wiped down the backsplash one final time, stepping back to admire his work. The sealer had brought out the depth of the stone, protecting it while enhancing its natural beauty. He had to admit, it looked damn good.

“All set,” he announced, turning to find Jess already watching him, having apparently abandoned her work at the laptop. “What do you think?”

She moved closer, her eyes widening as she took in the finished result. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Even better than I imagined.”

Her genuine appreciation pleased him more than he would have expected. There was something gratifying about impressing a woman with good taste, especially one whose opinion he’d come to value.

“It’ll protect the stone for years,” he explained. “Just wipe it down with mild soap and water for cleaning. Nothing abrasive.”

“Got it,” Jess nodded, turning to face him. “Thank you, Bob. For suggesting this, for the discount… for everything. You’ve really transformed our kitchen.”

There was something in her eyes, a warmth that hadn’t been there in their previous interactions. She stood close enough that he could smell her perfume, feel the slight heat radiating from her body.

“Happy to do it,” he replied. “Like I said, I enjoy the work. Keep my hands busy.”

Her eyes flickered down to his hands briefly before returning to his face. “They’re clearly very skilled,” she commented.

Bob felt his heart rate quicken. Was he imagining the undercurrent in her words? The slight emphasis on “skilled” that transformed an innocent observation into something more suggestive?

“Just need to wash up before I install those smoke detectors,” he said, moving toward the sink.

As Bob washed his hands, scrubbing at the stubborn residue beneath his fingernails, he felt the familiar tightening in his groin that had plagued him all morning. Being in Jess’s space, catching the occasional whiff of her perfume, watching her lean over her laptop, it had kept him in a state of semi-arousal.

He dried his hands on a towel, then turned slightly away from Jess, reaching down to adjust himself in his jeans. His cock had settled at an awkward angle, pressing against his zipper. With what he thought was a discreet movement, he repositioned himself, easing the discomfort.

When he looked up, Jess’s eyes met his directly. She’d been watching him. In that frozen moment, there was no mistaking what she’d seen.

Jess didn’t look away as he might have expected. Instead, something shifted in her gaze, a flash of curiosity perhaps. Then she blinked, and it was gone, replaced by her usual polite expression.

“Everything okay?” she asked, her tone casual.

“Yeah,” Bob replied, clearing his throat. “Just been on my feet too long. Gets uncomfortable.”

Jess smiled. “I can imagine.”

Bob stood motionless for a heartbeat too long, processing what had just happened. She’d seen him adjusting his erection, and instead of embarrassment or disgust, there had been… interest? No, he was projecting again. Reading into normal human reactions.

He cleared his throat. “Let’s install these smoke detectors.”

“Of course,” Jess agreed. “Where do they need to go?”

“One here in the kitchen,” Bob explained, retrieving the devices from their bag. “One in the hallway outside the bedrooms, and one in the master bedroom.”

“Makes sense,” Jess nodded. She hesitated, then added with a small smile, “Need me to hold the ladder for you?”

The image of her standing below him, looking up, perhaps admiring the work of his hands again… Bob forced the thought away.

“Appreciate the offer, but I’m steady on my feet,” he replied with a wink.

“I’m sure you are,” she replied. “I’ll be at my laptop if you need anything.”

Bob started with the kitchen. The process was quick and straightforward. Remove the old unit, disconnect the wiring, connect the new one, mount it to the bracket. Years of experience made the task almost automatic, allowing him to complete it in under ten minutes.

“One down, two to go,” he announced, moving the ladder to the hallway. The second installation went equally smoothly. Another regular unit, another quick installation.

Finally, it was time for the bedroom installation, the one that mattered.

“Just the bedroom left,” he announced, gathering his tools. “Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No rush,” Jess replied, standing up. “It’s nice having company while I work.”

Bob moved toward the master bedroom, ladder balanced on one shoulder, toolbox and smoke detector in his opposite hand. His heart rate quickened as he approached the threshold that separated public from private, crossing into the sanctuary where Tom and Jess spent their most intimate moments. There was something almost sacred about a couple’s bedroom, which made violating it all the more thrilling.

“Is it alright if I go in?” he called out, feigning politeness though he’d already begun entering.

Jess appeared in the hallway behind him. “Of course. Let me just move a few things.”

She brushed past him, their shoulders touching briefly. Bob watched as she straightened the already made bed, adjusted a decorative pillow, smoothed out an invisible wrinkle in the duvet. It was the instinctive reaction of a woman who hadn’t planned on inviting a man into her bedroom.

Her presence complicated things. He’d hoped she’d stay absorbed in her work while he installed the detector, giving him the privacy needed to position the camera perfectly. Now he’d need to be even more careful with her eyes potentially tracking his every move.

“I’ll just swap this one out,” he said, pointing toward the existing smoke detector.

“Whatever you think is best,” Jess replied. She moved to perch on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs in a way that drew his eyes naturally to her legs. “You’re the expert.”

Bob positioned the ladder beneath the existing detector and climbed up. From this vantage point, he had an excellent view of the room and of Jess, who sat watching him, her posture relaxed yet somehow attentive. The angle gave him a direct line of sight down her V-neck shirt. He could see the curves of her breasts, the lace edge of a light blue bra. He forced himself to look away, focusing on the task at hand.

“These old models,” he commented, unscrewing the detector from its mount, “usually just twist off. But sometimes the bracket gets stuck.”

As he disconnected the old wiring, Bob’s mind raced through competing considerations. The camera had limitations, fixed lens with no remote adjustment capabilities, inevitable blind spots directly beneath and behind the unit itself. Ideally, he’d position it to capture the entire bed where they’d sleep and fuck.

“How often should they be replaced?” Jess asked, still watching from below.

“Manufacturers say every ten years,” Bob replied, “but most people forget. Truth is, they should be tested monthly and replaced on schedule.” He disconnected the old detector’s wires. “Not many people are that diligent, though.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever tested ours,” Jess admitted. “Probably not the safest approach.”

“We all take risks without realizing it,” Bob said, depositing the old unit in his toolbox and retrieving the special smoke detector. The weight difference was noticeable. The camera added significant heft, but not so extreme that Jess would notice if she held it.

His pulse quickened as he carefully positioned the new detector. This was the moment of truth. The camera lens was tiny, concealed within what appeared to be a standard feature of the smoke detector’s design. It needed to be properly aligned to capture both the bed and the closet entrance. The trouble was, he couldn’t check the feed in real-time. His laptop was in his apartment downstairs, and the camera would only activate once it was powered up and connected to the home’s electrical system.

“Everything okay up there?” Jess asked, noticing his hesitation.

“Just making sure I have the wiring right,” Bob replied smoothly. “Different models have different connections.”

He mentally mapped out the camera’s field of view, estimating its coverage. A bit more to the right would capture the closet better, but might miss the far side of the bed where Jess would sleep. A bit more to the left would provide excellent bed coverage but might cut off part of the closet entrance.

Greed won out. He positioned the camera to include both areas, knowing the compromise might cost him optimal coverage of either. Better to capture some of everything than all of one thing, he reasoned.

“Let me test it,” he said, pressing the test button. The loud beep confirmed that the alarm function worked properly. The tiny red indicator light blinked inside the housing, invisible to Jess but a confirmation to Bob that the eye was now open, watching.

“All set,” Bob announced, climbing down the ladder. “Three new detectors, all hardwired with backup batteries. You’re protected for the next decade.”

“Thank you, Bob,” Jess said. She had no idea what he’d just done, no concept of the invasion he’d orchestrated.

Bob was already imagining the footage he’d soon be watching. He itched with anticipation to return to his apartment and check the feed, to see exactly what his electronic eye had captured.

“Happy to help,” he replied, folding the ladder. “Safety’s important.”

As they walked back toward the kitchen, Bob felt a sense of triumph. Phase one of his plan was now complete. The camera was in place, and tonight, when Tom and Jess went to bed, he would have front row seats to their most intimate moments.

In the kitchen, Bob inspected the backsplash, running his fingers lightly over the sealed stone. “Looking good,” he confirmed. “Give it twenty-four hours before getting it wet, just to be safe.”

“I’ll leave a note for Tom,” Jess said, making a mental note. “He sometimes splashes water everywhere when he does dishes.”

“Men,” Bob said with a good-natured shrug. “We’re not exactly known for our attention to detail.”

“Some men are,” Jess corrected, gesturing to the backsplash. “Your work shows incredible attention to detail.”

“Well, that’s different,” Bob replied. “That’s craftsmanship. Been doing it so long it’s second nature.”

“Still,” Jess insisted, “it’s impressive. Most people don’t care that much about doing things right.” She moved a step closer. “I’ve noticed that about you, you know. You take pride in everything you do, even the small things.”

The compliment warmed him, partly because it felt genuine and partly because it created another thread of connection between them. She was seeing him, not just as a tenant or a handyman, but as someone with skill, with value.

“I appreciate that,” he said honestly.

Jess glanced at her watch. “I should probably get back to work soon. My video call’s in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Bob said, gathering his tools. “Just need to pack up.”

He collected his equipment, wiping down the counters one last time, returning the kitchen to pristine condition. His mind, however, was already downstairs, already imagining what the camera feed might show, already contemplating the hours he’d spend watching Jess in her most private moments.

As he packed the last of his tools, Jess leaned against the counter, watching him. Something in her posture had changed since their last interaction. She seemed very comfortable in his presence now, more relaxed.

“I really can’t thank you enough,” she said. “For everything you’ve done around here. The faucets, the backsplash, and now the smoke detectors. You’ve made such a difference.”

“Happy to help,” Bob replied. “Like I said, keeps my hands busy.”

“Still,” Jess persisted, “it means a lot to us. To me.”

The way she emphasized that last part, “to me”, sent a surge of satisfaction through Bob’s body. He’d made an impression. He’d earned her gratitude, maybe even her admiration. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“That’s all I need to hear,” he said, closing his toolbox. “Knowing my work’s appreciated makes it worthwhile.”

They made their way toward the stairs, Bob carrying his toolbox and ladder. There was something different in the air between them, a shift in the dynamic that he couldn’t quite name but could definitely feel. The professional wall had begun to crumble, revealing glimpses of something more personal beneath.

At the bottom of the stairs, Bob set down his tools, preparing to say goodbye. He expected the usual polite farewell, a smile, a thank you, perhaps a wave. What he didn’t expect was for Jess to step forward, closing the distance between them.

“Seriously, thank you,” she said, her voice softer now. And then, before he could respond, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

Bob froze for a split second, caught completely off guard. Her body pressed against his, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt. She was softer than he’d imagined, yet somehow more solid too, not the fragile porcelain doll her appearance suggested, but a woman of substance and strength.

His arms closed around her automatically, returning the embrace. The contact sent blood rushing to his groin, his cock hardening despite his attempts to control it. Bob found himself pulling her closer, his erection pressing against her hip through his work jeans.

He could smell her shampoo, feel her waist beneath his palm, the gentle curve where it flared into her hips. The hug lasted only seconds, but he felt her body tense slightly at the unmistakable pressure against her. Any longer would have crossed an unspoken boundary, but in those seconds, something fundamental shifted.

She pulled back, a hint of color in her cheeks. Something flickered across her face. Surprise? Discomfort? He couldn’t tell.

“Thanks again,” she said, taking a small step backward. “I should get ready for my call.”

“Of course,” Bob managed, his voice rougher than intended. “I’ll see you around.”

As he gathered his tools and headed toward the door that connected to the laundry room, he could feel her eyes on his back.

In the laundry room, Bob paused, setting down his toolbox and ladder. His heart hammered in his chest, not from the physical exertion but from the unexpected intimacy of that hug and his body’s response to it. He hadn’t anticipated it, hadn’t planned for it. She had to have felt him against her, his hardness unmistakable through the denim.

That wasn’t like Jess, or at least, not like the Jess he’d observed so far. She had always maintained a careful physical distance, had always kept their interactions firmly in the professional realm. This was different. This was personal. This was a choice she’d made, a boundary she’d willingly crossed.

Why? What had changed?

And more importantly, how would she respond to discovering his desire so directly, so physically? Would she retreat, create distance between them? Or was that slight widening of her eyes, that faint flush to her cheeks, a sign of something else?

Bob moved through the door that led to his apartment, his mind racing with possibilities. Had she sensed his desire somehow? Was she responding to it unconsciously? Or was there something more deliberate at play?

No, that was wishful thinking. She was just being friendly, grateful for his help. The hug meant nothing beyond a simple expression of appreciation. He was reading too much into it, allowing his fantasies to cloud his judgment.

Bob made a beeline for his desk. “Come on, come on,” he muttered, jabbing at his laptop’s power button.

The machine whirred to life with slowly. His cock had been half hard since he’d installed the camera, the anticipation building with every passing moment.

Finally, the screen flickered to life. Bob launched the software he’d installed earlier that morning. A loading bar appeared, counting up the percentage in tiny digital increments that made Bob want to put his fist through the screen.

“Fucking load already,” he growled.

When the interface finally appeared, Bob quickly navigated to the camera feed. His heart hammered against his ribs as the first grainy images materialized on screen.

“Fuck!”

The expletive exploded from his lips as he leaned forward, squinting at what he was seeing. The camera’s view wasn’t what he’d envisioned at all. It zoomed in more than he’d expected, the angle all wrong. The bottom corner of the bed filled one side of the screen while the other side showed an angled view of the floor and part of the entrance to their walk-in closet.

“No, no, no,” Bob muttered, frantically adjusting settings, trying to manipulate the angle remotely. But the camera was fixed. What he saw was what he’d get.

“Fucking amateur hour,” he berated himself. “Should’ve just focused on the goddamn bed.”

In his greed, Bob had tried to capture too much. He’d wanted to include the walk-in closet, hoping to catch Jessica in various states of undress. But in doing so, he’d sacrificed the main event, the bed.

“Stupid, stupid, STUPID!”

Each repetition was punctuated by a slap to his own forehead. Decades of experience had taught him the cardinal rule: keep it simple. Focus on what matters. And he’d ignored that wisdom in favor of fantasies about catching glimpses of Jessica sliding those leggings down those endless legs.

Now he had the worst of both worlds. The closet view was partial at best. He could see the entrance but not the interior where she would actually change. And the bed view was limited to their feet.

“Goddamn it,” Bob muttered, leaning back in his chair and running both hands over his scalp.

Bob contemplated his options. He could try again, of course. Manufacture some reason to replace the detector he’d just installed. Claim a defect, a recall, anything to get back in there and adjust the angle. But that would raise suspicion.

No, he was stuck with this shitty angle, at least for now. He’d have to make do with feet and ankles, with the sounds he could pick up, with his imagination filling in the blanks. It was better than nothing, but far from the all access pass he’d envisioned.

Bob’s eyes darted to the clock in the corner of his laptop screen. 11:45 AM. Jessica would be working upstairs for hours yet. Tom wouldn’t be home until evening. The bedroom would remain empty, the feed showing nothing but static furniture and shifting sunlight patterns across the carpet.

His initial excitement morphed into frustration. He’d been so close. So fucking close to having everything he wanted.

“Greedy motherfucker,” he muttered to himself.

The waiting was its own special torture, anticipation mixed with bitter disappointment. But Bob would wait. He had nothing but time. And tonight, when Tom and Jessica finally entered that bedroom, unaware of the eyes watching them from above, he would take what little he could get and force himself to be satisfied. For now.

—

Tom Marshall hit send on his final email of the day, satisfaction coursing through him as he closed another loop in the Meridian implementation. His office had fallen quiet around him, colleagues trickling out one by one until only the most dedicated workaholics remained.

His Apple Watch showed 5:47 PM. It was early by his recent standards. He’d planned to push through until at least seven, trying to tie up loose ends before tomorrow’s San Diego trip but Davis had stopped by his desk with different instructions.

“Marshall,” Davis had said, with a rare display of humanity. “Get the hell out of here. You’re going to spend the next three days up to your neck in Meridian’s bullshit. Go home. See that beautiful wife of yours. That’s an order.”

Tom hadn’t needed to be told twice. He texted Jess, powered down his machine, swiped his notebooks into his briefcase, and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. As he walked through the office’s main corridor, he felt anticipation and anxiety settling. Three days away from home. Three days away from Jess. It shouldn’t feel different from last week’s trip, yet it did.

In the elevator, Tom loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, shedding the corporate skin he wore all day. Despite his fatigue, the thought of Jess waiting for him at home sent a current of excitement through his body.

The parking garage was nearly empty, his Lexus one of the few remaining vehicles. Inside the car, he sat motionless for a moment, hands resting on the steering wheel as the air conditioning fought against Austin’s heat. He’d survived another day of pretending to be normal, of attending meetings and answering emails as if his entire understanding of his own sexuality hadn’t fundamentally shifted over the weekend.

His phone buzzed with a text.

Jess: Dinner’s almost ready. Drive safe.

Tom smiled, started the engine, and backed out of the parking spot.

As brake lights flashed ahead and his car slowed to a crawl, his mind wandered back to their conversation from the night before, to Jess’s suggestion about flirting with Bob. The image sent a peculiar thrill through him, a confusing mixture of arousal and discomfort that he still couldn’t fully reconcile.

Bob wasn’t exactly what Tom had envisioned when he first admitted his fantasies. In the abstract scenarios that had played out in his mind, the men were always more like Brandon. Confident, attractive, age appropriate.

Yet Tom couldn’t deny the surge of excitement he’d felt when Jess had suggested it. Something about the reality of it, the tangibility of someone who was already in their lives made the fantasy more potent. Not to mention that huge cock of his.

Tom had always considered himself a fairly conventional guy. He’d dated regularly in college, had a few serious relationships, but nothing particularly wild or experimental. Then he’d met Jess, and everything had clicked into place. He knew immediately that she was the one. Beautiful, smart, ambitious, and somehow, miraculously, interested in him. They’d built a life together, a partnership based on mutual respect, shared goals, and genuine love.

And now, six years into their relationship, he was fantasizing about his wife with other men. Not just fantasizing, actively encouraging her to explore the boundaries of flirtation, to play with fire while he watched from a safe distance. What did that say about him?

A car horn jolted Tom from his thoughts. He’d been sitting at a green light, lost in his mental wanderings. He raised a hand in apology to the driver behind him and pushed down on the pedal.

As he pulled into their driveway, Tom noticed their house looked different somehow. Warmer. More inviting. The lights were on inside, casting a golden glow through the windows.

His key turned in the lock, and immediately the scent of cooking food greeted him. Something with garlic and herbs, rich and savory. His stomach growled in anticipation.

“Jess?” he called out.

“Upstairs!”

Tom climbed the stairs, his body already shedding the day’s tension with each step closer to her. In the kitchen, he found Jess stirring something on the stove. She wore jeans and a light gray sweater that looked effortlessly casual.

She glanced over her shoulder at his approach, a smile lighting her features. “That was fast,” she observed, sounding pleased.

“Traffic was light,” Tom replied, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He pressed his lips to the side of her neck. “Plus, Davis said to spend time with my beautiful wife before disappearing to San Diego again.”

“That’s nice of him,” Jess replied, leaning back against his chest. “Dinner’s almost ready. I figured we’d have an actual meal together tonight since for the next three days you’ll be eating hotel room service and fast food.”

“What are we having?” Tom asked, peering over her shoulder at the pot she was stirring. “Smells amazing.”

“Pasta with my grandma’s bolognese,” Jess replied. “The sauce has been simmering for hours.”

Tom’s stomach growled audibly, making Jess laugh. “I take it you approve?”

“God, yes,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to her neck. “I haven’t eaten since noon.”

Jess reached for the wooden spoon to taste the sauce, offering some to Tom. “What do you think? Need more seasoning?”

Tom tasted, closing his eyes in appreciation. “It’s perfect. Like everything you do.”

Jess rolled her eyes but smiled. “Mr. Marshall. Now make yourself useful and set the table. Dinner in five.”

As Tom moved around the kitchen gathering plates and utensils, his eyes were drawn to the backsplash.

“Backsplash looks amazing,” he commented. “Bob did a great job.”

“He did,” Jess agreed, ladling sauce over the pasta and mixing it together. “He finished it this morning. Said to wait twenty-four hours before getting it wet, so be careful when you’re loading the dishwasher.”

 “You know it’s not my strong suit,” Tom joked.

Jess smiled, bringing the pasta to the table. “Speaking of Bob,” she said casually as she set the bowl down, “he installed new smoke detectors today too.”

Tom’s eyebrows rose. “New smoke detectors? Was that part of our agreement?”

“He brought them over. Said ours were outdated,” Jess explained, sliding into her seat. “Said they have ten-year batteries and detect carbon monoxide. He wouldn’t accept payment.”

“Generous of him,” Tom commented. He remembered their conversation from the previous night, how Jess had suggested flirting with Bob as a way to test the waters of his fantasy. A small thrill ran through him. “So how was he today? Still the perfect gentleman?”

Jess’s eyes met his, a hint of mischief lurking in their depths. “Why do you ask?” she responded, twirling pasta around her fork.

“Just curious,” Tom said, trying to maintain a casual tone despite the acceleration of his pulse. “Given our conversation last night.”

Jess took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “He was… attentive.”

Tom’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Attentive how?”

“Just small things,” Jess said with a slight shrug. “The way he watched me. The way he listened when I talked.”

Tom felt a strange flutter in his stomach. “And did you… respond to his attention?”

Jess took a sip of her wine. “I might have been a little friendlier than usual.”

“Define ‘friendlier,’” Tom pressed, his dinner temporarily forgotten.

Jess smiled. “I wore that blue V-neck t-shirt. The one that shows just enough cleavage to be interesting but not enough to be too obvious.”

Tom knew the shirt well. The neckline dipped just low enough to offer a tantalizing hint of what lay beneath. “And?”

“And those black leggings you like so much,” Jess continued. “The ones Brandon said would give someone a heart attack.”

Tom pictured it. “Did he notice?”

“Oh, he noticed,” Jess confirmed. “He tried not to stare, but I caught him a few times when he thought I wasn’t looking.”

Tom swallowed. “What else?”

Jess took another bite of pasta, deliberately drawing out the moment, clearly enjoying the effect her words were having. “We talked. More personally than before. He told me about his marriages, why they failed. About the importance of being present, of really seeing your partner.”

“And then?” Tom prompted when she paused.

Jess’s eyes gleamed. “And then, when he was leaving, I hugged him.”

Tom nearly choked on his wine. “You what?”

“I hugged him,” Jess repeated. “Just to say thank you for all his work. It was brief, completely innocent.”

“How did he react?” Tom asked, food now completely forgotten.

“He froze at first,” Jess said, recalling the moment. “Just for a second. Like he couldn’t believe it was happening. Then he hugged me back.”

Tom tried to picture it, Jess stepping into Bob’s space, wrapping her arms around him, Bob’s surprise followed by his arms closing around her.

“Jesus, Jess,” he murmured.

She tilted her head, studying his reaction. “Too much?”

“No,” Tom said. “No, it’s… it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to actually… test the waters”

“Isn’t that what we talked about?”

“It is,” Tom agreed.

Jess reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. “If it bothers you-”

“It doesn’t,” Tom interrupted. “I’m just… processing. It’s different, hearing about it actually happening versus just talking about it as a possibility.”

“Different good? Or different uncomfortable?” Jess asked, her eyes searching his.

Tom considered the question. The image of Jess hugging Bob, their bodies briefly pressed together, had sent a jolt of something through him. Not jealousy, not exactly. More like… excitement. Anticipation.

“Different good,” he admitted. “Definitely… interesting.”

Jess’s expression relaxed. “Interesting enough that you’re not eating the dinner I spent hours preparing?”

Tom laughed. He picked up his fork and took a bite of the now slightly cooled pasta. “It’s so good,” he said truthfully. “Almost as incredible as my wife hugging our tenant.”

Jess rolled her eyes, but her smile widened. “It was just a hug, Tom. I didn’t jump his bones.”

“Yet,” Tom said before he could stop himself.

Jess’s eyebrows shot up. “Yet?” she repeated. “Is that where your mind is going?”

Tom felt his cheeks warm. “No, I didn’t mean… I was joking.”

“Were you, though?” Jess pressed.

Tom took a sip of wine, buying himself time. “I don’t know,” he said finally, honestly. “I’m still figuring that out myself.”

Jess nodded, accepting his answer. “Well, while I’m willing to explore this… whatever this is… with you, I’m not planning to sleep with Bob or anyone else. That’s not what this is about for me.”

“What is it about for you?” Tom asked, genuinely curious.

“Honestly? It’s about that feeling of being seen, of commanding attention. It reminds me of when I was modeling, that rush of knowing someone is looking at you, really looking.”

“You like it,” Tom observed. “Being desired.”

“I do,” Jess admitted. “I always have. But somewhere along the line, I started suppressing it. Became so focused on being taken seriously professionally that I buried that part of myself.”

“And now?”

Jess shrugged lightly. “And now I’m realizing it doesn’t have to be either-or. I can still acknowledge that side of myself.”

Tom nodded, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. Relief that she wasn’t planning to take things too far mixed with a little disappointment, and excitement at the possibilities that remained open.

“Speaking of being a respected professional,” Jess continued, shifting topics, “Richard Harrington called my office today. He wants me to consult on his personal penthouse reno.”

“Richard Harrington? The same one from the party? The one who was…”

“The same,” Jess confirmed. “Apparently he was very impressed with the Skyline designs.”

“So that’s all three of them now,” he said slowly. “Webb, Chen, and Harrington. All men you overheard objectifying you, all now wanting to work with you.”

“Ironic, right? They see me as a “conquest and a talented designer. I’m not sure which matters more to them.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

Jess toyed with her wineglass, considering. “Professionally, it’s an incredible opportunity. Three high-profile clients who could showcase my work to exactly the audience I want to reach.” She took a sip. “Personally? It’s complicated. I hate knowing that they view me as a piece of meat, but I’ve decided that I’m not willing to sacrifice my career because they’re pigs.”

Despite the excitement her words triggered, shame quickly followed. Here she was, navigating possible sexual harassment in her professional life, while he was secretly getting off on the idea of these men desiring her.

“It’s almost overwhelming,” Jess continues. “Between Skyline’s completion, Webb’s Savannah hotel, Chen’s Houston development, and now Harrington’s penthouse… I’m going to be so busy.”

“You can handle it,” Tom said confidently. “You’re the most talented designer I know.”

“I’m the only designer you know,” Jess corrected with a laugh.

“Not true. I’ve met Sam and Annie.”

“Fine, one of three designers you know,” Jess conceded. “But I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Always,” Tom replied, meaning it. His admiration for her talent was genuine and longstanding.

“I also confirmed dinner with Webb,” Jess mentioned, her tone shifting slightly. “Thursday night.”

Tom’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Oh?”

“At Le Bernardin,” she continued.

“Good,” Tom nodded. The thought of Chris Webb, a man he knew had spoken crudely about his wife, sharing a meal with Jess while he was away stirred something complex in his chest, a mixture of concern and that same inexplicable excitement.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” Jess promised. “Every detail.”

The way she emphasized “every detail” sent a shiver down Tom’s spine. There was subtext there, an acknowledgment of his newfound interest in her interactions with other men.

“I’d appreciate that,” he replied.

They finished dinner with lighter conversation, discussing logistics for his trip. It was comfortable, the easy back and forth of a couple who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company beyond just physical attraction.

After clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, carefully avoiding splashing the backsplash, they moved to the bedroom. Tom’s suitcase lay open at the foot of the bed, already partially packed.

“You started packing for me?” he asked, surveying the neatly folded clothes.

“Just the basics,” Jess replied. “Shirts, underwear, socks. Your toiletry bag is in the bathroom, already packed with travel sizes of everything.”

Tom wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her against his chest. “What would I do without you?”

Jess leaned back into him, her hands covering his where they rested on her stomach. “Probably show up in San Diego with mismatched socks and no deodorant.”

“Probably,” Tom agreed with a chuckle, nuzzling her neck. “Thank you for taking care of me. I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s only three days,” Jess reminded him

“I know,” he acknowledged. “But it feels different this time.”

“Because of what we talked about?” Jess asked.

“Partly,” Tom admitted.

“Everything feels more… I don’t know. Charged? Like we’re standing on the edge of something new,” said Jess.

“Does that scare you?” Tom asked.

Jess considered the question. “A little,” she confessed. “But it’s exciting too. Like we’re rediscovering each other.”

Tom nodded, understanding exactly what she meant.

“On that note,” Jess said, turning around, her fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt, “we should finish packing and get to bed early. You have an early flight.”

“You’re driving me?” Tom asked, slightly surprised. He’d planned to take an Uber rather than inconvenience her.

“Of course I’m driving you,” Jess replied. “I want every possible minute with you before you go.”

Tom smiled. “Then we better finish packing,” he agreed, though his hands remained on her waist, reluctant to break contact.

Jess rose on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Help me with your suits? I never know which one you want to bring.”

Tom nodded, finally releasing her to move toward the closet. As he sorted through his work suits, selecting the navy blue and the charcoal gray for the week’s meetings, his mind returned to earlier threads of their conversation.

“So,” he began casually, “this hug with Bob…”

Jess glanced at him from where she was organizing his dress shirts. “What about it?”

“Was it just a quick thank you hug? Or…” Tom hesitated, not quite sure how to phrase his question.

“Or what?” Jess prompted.

“Or was it something more…?” Try as he might, Tom couldn’t keep a note of hopeful interest from creeping into his voice.

Jess’s smile was enigmatic. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Tom said slowly, “that you’re enjoying making me wonder.”

“Maybe I am,” she admitted. “After all, you’re the one who finds this exciting.”

“So do you,” Tom countered, remembering her earlier words about rediscovering that part of herself. “At least a little.”

Jess conceded the point with a slight inclination of her head. “I won’t deny there’s something… intriguing about it. About being more aware of my effect on other men.”

“Like Bob,” Tom supplied.

“Like Bob,” Jess agreed. “And maybe others.”

There were others now. Chris Webb, James Chen, Richard Harrington, three powerful men who had made clear their interest in Jess, professionally if not personally. Then there was Bob, her yoga instructor Derek, and Brandon.

Tom returned to his suits, trying to process her words. “Others? Like who?”

“No one specific,” Jess replied, her voice casual as she folded a dress shirt. “Just… the possibility. The awareness.”

Tom nodded, moving to arrange his ties in the suitcase. His throat felt unexpectedly dry. “So, about Thursday… what are you planning to wear? For your dinner with Webb?”

Jess glanced up, studying his expression. “I was thinking my navy pantsuit with that cream silk blouse. Professional but still elegant.”

“That’s a good choice,” Tom agreed, picturing the outfit. The tailored pantsuit was one of his favorites, accentuating her long legs while maintaining an appropriate business appearance. But now, with their new dynamic hovering between them, he found himself considering alternatives.

“What about that burgundy dress?” he suggested, trying to sound casual. “The one with the wrap.”

Jess paused in her folding, eyebrows lifting slightly. “That’s a bit more… evening than office,” she noted. The dress in question had a plunging neckline and the wrap style emphasized her thin waist. It was stunning but decidedly more provocative than her standard business attire.

“True,” Tom admitted. “But it’s dinner, not a board meeting.”

Jess set down the shirt she was holding and turned to face him fully. “Tom, are you suggesting I dress to attract Chris Webb’s attention?”

Her directness caught him off guard. “No, I… I don’t know what I’m suggesting,” he confessed, running a hand through his hair.

“What do you want to happen on Thursday?” she asked softly. “With Chris. Really.”

Tom swallowed, finding the question harder to answer than he’d expected. “I want you to be comfortable,” he began. “I want you to secure the Savannah project because it’s important to your career.”

“That’s what you want professionally,” Jess persisted. “What about… personally? After everything we’ve discussed.”

Tom moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “I think I’d be okay with whatever happens,” he said slowly. “As long as you call me afterward and tell me about it. Everything. As soon as you get home.”

“Everything?” Jess repeated, a hint of challenge in her voice. She moved closer, positioning herself between his knees. “Like what?”

Tom looked up at her, his hands naturally finding her waist. “Like what you wore. How he looked at you. What you talked about.”

“That’s very innocent, Tom,” Jess said, her head tilting slightly. “Is that really all you want to know?”

Heat crept up his neck. “No.”

“Then what?” she pressed, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’d want to know if he flirted with you,” Tom admitted. “If he tried to touch you. How it made you feel.”

A small smile curved Jess’ lips. “And if he did touch me? Maybe his hand on my back as we walked to the table?”

“I’d want to know all of that.”

“What if he suggested drinks at the hotel bar afterward?” Jess continued. “What if I said yes?”

Tom’s grip tightened on her waist. “Did you already agree to that?”

“No,” Jess assured him. “It’s hypothetical. What if I had one drink too many and he offered to walk me to my car?”

“I’d want you to be safe,” Tom responded automatically.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Jess said. “I’m asking if you’d be aroused thinking about it. About him walking me to my car, standing too close in the dark parking lot.”

Tom’s breathing had quickened, his imagination supplying vivid details to her scenario. “Yes,” he admitted. “It would turn me on.”

“What if he tried to kiss me?” Jess whispered, her eyes never leaving his. “What would you want me to do?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Jess insisted softly. “Tell me, Tom. What would arouse you more? Me rejecting him? Or me letting him?”

The room suddenly felt too warm, too small. “Maybe… letting him. Just a little.”

“Just a little,” Jess echoed. Her fingertips traced along his jawline. “Like, letting his lips touch mine for just a moment before pulling away? Or something more?”

Tom’s cock strained against his slacks, his arousal impossible to hide. “Maybe something more,” he admitted.

“How much more, Tom?” Jess pressed. “His hands on my body?”

“Jesus, Jess,” Tom growled, pulling her toward him, burying his face against her stomach. “I don’t know.”

Jess’s fingers threaded through his hair, her touch gentle despite her provocative words. “It’s okay not to know,” she soothed. “We’re figuring this out together. But I need to understand where your boundaries are. What’s fantasy and what’s too far.”

Tom lifted his head to look at her. “I trust you,” he said. “I trust your judgment. If something happens… just do what feels right in the moment. And then tell me everything.”

Jess studied him. “You know I would never actually sleep with Chris,” she said finally. “He’s a client, and from what I overheard at the party, he’s a pig who sees women as “conquests.”

“I know,” Tom nodded.

Jess nodded. “By the way, Bob texted me today after he left,” she revealed. “Said he forgot to mention a few maintenance tips for the backsplash.”

Tom’s eyebrows rose. “Did he now?”

“Mmm,” Jess confirmed. “Very thorough, our tenant. Wanted to make sure we’re properly caring for his handiwork.”

“And?” Tom prompted.

“And he asked if I’d like to see some other stone samples sometime. For future projects,” she added.

Tom’s pulse quickened. “What did you tell him?”

“I said I’d love to,” Jess replied, watching his reaction. “He has some perfect material for bathroom renovations, apparently.”

“Bathroom renovations. Right.”

“He also thanked me for the hug,” Jess continued. “Said it was the highlight of his day.”

“I bet it was,” Tom muttered.

“Are you jealous?” Jess asked, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

“No,” Tom said, then reconsidered. “Maybe a little. But not in a bad way.”

“In what way, then?”

“In a way that makes me want to see what happens when you explore this side of yourself,” Tom replied.

Jess’s smile widened. “I like the sound of that,” she murmured, leaning down to press her lips against his.

What began as a gentle kiss quickly deepened. Tom’s hands slid from her waist to her ass, pulling her firmly to straddle him. Jess’s arms wound around his neck, her body melting into his as their tongues met.

“Too many clothes,” Jess whispered against his mouth.

Tom stood while holding her, then turned so he could lower her onto the bed. He followed her down, his body on top of hers, his weight supported on his forearms as he kissed her deeply.

“You know,” Jess whispered between kisses, “I kept thinking about you today. Even while Bob was here.”

“Yeah?” Tom asked, his hands moving beneath her sweater to find warm skin.

“Mmmhmm,” she confirmed. “I kept wondering what you’d think if you could see me. If you were watching Bob watching me.”

“Did he watch you?”

“The whole time,” Jess confirmed. “Every chance he got. He tried to be subtle, but I caught him staring at my tits.”

Tom growled, his hands working more urgently now to remove her sweater. “Did you do it on purpose? Give him something to look at?”

Jess lifted her arms, allowing him to pull it over her head. “Maybe,” she admitted, her eyes holding his. “Maybe I reached up for those coffee mugs and maybe he watched my ass.”

“Fuck, Jess,” Tom groaned, his hands moving to unbutton her jeans now, tugging them down her legs.

She lay beneath him in a simple blue bra and matching panties, the same ones she’d mentioned Bob getting a glimpse of when she’d worn that blue V-neck. Tom’s mind filled with the image of Bob stealing glances down her shirt, seeing this exact sight in the flesh, experiencing just a fraction of the beauty Tom got to witness fully.

“Did he get hard?” Tom asked, surprising himself with the directness of the question. “When he was looking at you?”

Jess’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t shy away from the question. “I think so,” she said. “At one point, I caught him adjusting himself.”

Tom’s cock throbbed at the confession. “Jesus.”

“I pretended not to notice,” Jess continued. “But we both knew I saw.”

Tom’s fingers traced the lace edge of her bra. “And how did that make you feel? Knowing you affected him that way?”

“Powerful,” Jess admitted softly. “Desired.”

Tom bent to press his lips to her collarbone, then lower, tracing a path between her breasts. “Tell me about the hug,” he murmured against her skin.

Jess’s fingers threaded through his hair. “It was impulsive,” she said. “He was leaving, and I just… stepped forward and put my arms around him.”

“How did he feel?” Tom asked, reaching behind her to unfasten her bra. The clasp gave way and he slowly drew the straps down her arms, revealing her breasts inch by inch.

“Solid,” Jess replied as the bra came loose.

Tom tossed the bra to the floor.

“He was strong,” Jess continued. “His body was so different from yours. Broader, harder.”

Tom’s mouth found her nipple, his tongue circling before sucking gently. Jess arched beneath him, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“God, yes,” she breathed, pushing her breast more firmly against his mouth.

“Did you feel his… reaction?” Tom asked, releasing her nipple before moving to the other. His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, just hard enough to send a shock of pleasure and pain through her.

“Yes,” Jess whispered. “Not at first, but when he hugged me back, when he pulled me closer… I felt it against me. He was hard, Tom. Rock hard just from that simple hug.”

“Where?” Tom demanded, his hand sliding down her stomach to the waistband of her panties. “Where did you feel him?”

“Against my hip,” Jess gasped as Tom’s fingers dipped beneath the elastic, teasing but not yet touching where she needed him most. “I could feel how big he was, even through his jeans.”

If only she knew.

Tom ground his still-clothed erection against her thigh, the image unbearably arousing. “And then?”

“And then nothing,” Jess said. “The hug ended. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. But it felt… significant somehow.”

Tom hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her legs. “I bet he’s thinking about it right now,” he said. “Replaying it in his mind, imagining what might have happened if you’d stayed in his arms a while longer.”

“Probably,” Jess agreed, her hands moving to his belt, unfastening it. “Just like Chris is probably imagining Thursday night, planning how he’ll try to seduce me over dinner.”

The mention of Chris Webb sent another surge of arousal through Tom. His slacks and boxers quickly joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

“Wait,” Tom said, reaching for the nightstand drawer. They’d been sloppy with condoms recently, but it was the responsible thing to do. His fingers fumbled inside, emerging with a foil packet.

Jess nodded, taking the condom from him, tearing the wrapper open with her teeth. Her eyes never left his as she rolled it down his shaft, giving him a few teasing strokes. Her thumb circled the sensitive head through the latex, smearing the precum that had gathered there.

“Do you think he’ll try to touch you?” Tom asked, positioning himself between her thighs, the head of his cock brushing against her entrance.

“I know he will,” Jess replied, reaching between them to guide him. “Men like him always do. The question is where… and how much I’ll let him.”

Tom pushed forward, sliding into her with a groan. Jess’s legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, her body welcoming him home. They both paused, savoring the sensation of being joined.

“God, you feel amazing,” Tom breathed, his forehead pressed against hers. “So wet, so tight.”

“You make me this way,” Jess whispered as she lifted her hips, encouraging him to move.

Tom began thrusting, establishing a slow, deep rhythm that had Jess gasping with each stroke. Her nails dug into his back, leaving marks in his skin.

“What would you do?” Tom asked. “If he put his hand on your thigh under the table?”

Jess’s eyes held his. “What would you want me to do?” she countered, meeting his thrusts with movements of her own.

“Tell me your instinct,” Tom pressed. “What would Jessica Marshall do if a man like Chris Webb put his hand on her thigh?”

“I’d probably slide my leg away,” Jess admitted. “But if you’re asking what I’d do knowing it turns you on… I might let his hand stay. Just for a moment.”

Tom’s pace increased. “And if he moved it higher?” he asked, his voice strained.

“I’d stop him,” Jess said. “There are limits, Tom. Lines I wouldn’t cross.”

“But you’d let him flirt with you,” Tom suggested. “Let him think he has a chance.”

“If that’s what you want,” Jess replied, her nails digging into his back as her pleasure built. “Is that what you want, Tom? For me to flirt with Chris? To let him believe he might get more?”

“Fuck,” Tom groaned, his rhythm faltering momentarily. “I want… I want you to do whatever feels right to you in the moment. Whatever excites you.”

Jess’s eyes widened slightly at this admission. “And if what excites me is letting him touch me? Letting his hand stay on my thigh?”

The thought sent a jolt of arousal through Tom so intense he had to pause his movements to avoid coming too soon. “Jesus, Jess,” he panted. “Yes. Whatever you want. Whatever makes you feel good.”

Jess smiled, wicked and knowing. “And you want all the details afterward?” she asked. “Every touch? Every look?”

“God, yes,” Tom admitted, resuming his thrusts, deeper now. “Everything.”

“I’ll call you,” Jess promised, her voice breathy with approaching release. “The moment I get home. Tell you everything he said, everything he did, how he looked at me…”

Her words combined with the sensation of being inside her pushed Tom dangerously close to the edge. He slowed his pace, not wanting this to end too quickly.

“Turn over,” he commanded, withdrawing from her body. “I want to see that perfect ass.”

Jess complied eagerly, rolling onto her stomach and then pushing up onto her knees, presenting herself to him. She looked back over her shoulder, her hair tumbling around her face in disheveled perfection.

“Like this?” she asked innocently, arching her back to emphasize her ass.

“Exactly like that,” Tom growled, positioning himself behind her. His hands gripped her hips as he guided himself back to her entrance, sliding in with one firm thrust that had them both moaning.

From this angle, he could go deeper, hitting spots inside her that made her gasp and clutch at the sheets. The sight of his cock disappearing into her body, her perky ass pressed against him, was almost unbearably erotic.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he groaned, his hands kneading the flesh of her ass as he established a steady rhythm. “Taking my cock so perfectly.”

Jess pushed back against him, meeting each thrust. “Harder,” she demanded, her voice muffled against the pillow she’d grabbed. “Fuck me harder, Tom.”

He complied, his hips snapping forward with increased force, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. One hand moved from her hip to slide around her body, finding her clit and circling it in time with his thrusts.

“Oh god,” Jess moaned, her back arching even more. “Yes, right there. Don’t stop.”

“When he’s sitting across from you at dinner, are you going to be thinking about this? About my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” Jess gasped. “God, yes. I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”

“And Bob?” Tom pressed, his fingers working her clit more insistently. “Next time he’s here, what will you do?”

“What do you want me to do?” Jess challenged, though her voice wavered.

The question was charged with possibility. Tom leaned forward, his chest pressed against her back, his mouth close to her ear.

“I want you to do whatever excites you,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Whatever makes your pussy wet thinking about it. Maybe let him see more… maybe let him want more… knowing only you decide how far it goes.”

“Oh god,” Jess moaned, her inner walls beginning to flutter around his cock.

“Would that turn you on?” Tom asked, straightening up again, resuming his thrusts. “Knowing how much he wants you? How hard he gets just from being near you?”

“Yes,” Jess admitted, her voice breaking. “It would. It does.”

“Show me how much,” Tom urged, his fingers speeding up on her clit. “Come on my cock, Jess.”

His words pushed her over the edge. Jess cried out, her body tensing beneath him as her pussy clenched rhythmically around his cock, trying to milk his orgasm from him.

Tom maintained his pace, working her through her climax before pulling out and flipping her onto her back again. He wanted to see her face when he came.

“Not done with you yet,” he growled, pushing back inside her.

Jess welcomed him with a smile, her body pliant and responsive despite her recent orgasm. Her hands found his shoulders, pulling him closer as he resumed his thrusts.

“Come for me,” she whispered, her eyes locked on his. “Fill that condom up. Show me what I do to you.”

Tom’s pace became erratic, his control slipping. “Me,” he managed between breaths. “No matter what… always come back to me.”

“I know,” Jess assured him, her legs wrapping around his waist again. “I’m yours, Tom. Always yours.”

With a final thrust, Tom buried himself deep inside her as his orgasm hit like a freight train. His body shuddered above her, his release seemingly endless as pleasure coursed through every nerve. He collapsed against her as they both struggled to catch their breath.

For moments afterward, they remained joined, savoring the closeness, the intimacy that went beyond the physical act. Eventually, he rolled to the side, bringing Jess with him so they lay face to face.

“That was…” Tom began, breathing heavy, but words failed him.

“Intense,” Jess replied, her face flushed, her eyes soft with post coital bliss.

“Yeah,” he agreed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You okay?”

“More than okay,” she assured him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “You?”

Tom took a moment to genuinely consider the question, to examine his feelings beyond the immediate afterglow. “I’m good,” he said finally. “Really good.”

“You know this is just fantasy, right?” Jess asked, her expression growing more serious. “What we talk about in bed… it’s not necessarily what I want in reality.”

“I know,” Tom assured her.

Jess nodded. “I mean, I’m willing to push some boundaries, to test the waters with flirtation. That can be fun and relatively harmless. But anything beyond that…”

“Would change things between us,” Tom finished.

“Yes,” she agreed. “And I like what we have too much to risk it on a fleeting thrill.”

Her words reassured him, settling something that had been quietly unsettled in his chest since their initial conversation about his fantasies. Despite the wild territory they’d been exploring verbally, their commitment to each other remained the foundation.

“We should probably finish packing,” Jess murmured. “Early morning tomorrow.”

Tom nodded, suddenly aware of his state of undress. He stood, heading to the bathroom to clean up. When he returned, Jess had changed into her sleep shirt, a soft, worn cotton thing that reached mid-thigh.

They quickly finished packing, then moved through their nightly routine. As they finally settled beneath the covers, Tom reached for Jess, pulling her close against him.

“Goodnight, Tom,” Jess whispered.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly.

—

Bob Caldwell sat at his desk naked, dried cum crusted across his thick chest and protruding belly. The bitter scent of his own ejaculate hung in the stale apartment air, mingling with the sweat and stink of frustrated arousal.

“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

The image on screen remained unchanged: the bottom corner of a king-sized bed, lumps visible beneath the covers where Tom and Jess’s feet rested. The rest was darkness, the bedroom light having clicked off twenty minutes ago. He could make out nothing else, just those goddamn feet.

The night had been a masterclass in frustration. Bob had spent hours glued to his laptop, watching the pathetic feed from his hidden camera, hoping for a glimpse of what he so desperately craved. But the angle, that fucking botched angle, had given him almost nothing. He’d seen them moving around the room, packing Tom’s suitcase, entering and exiting the walk-in closet. He’d seen Tom’s arms wrap around Jess from behind, a tender moment that made Bob’s stomach turn.

But when they’d moved to the bed, when the main event began, he’d seen nothing. Their bodies had disappeared from frame, leaving him with only audio. Grunts, moans, the creaking of bedsprings, the slap of skin against skin. Their words had been largely inaudible, just muffled whispers that tortured him with their secrets.

He’d been reduced to the audio equivalent of a man pressing his ear against a thin wall, straining to catch fragments, imagining the rest. It was pathetic. It was infuriating. And still, it had been enough to make him cum harder than he had in years.

Bob reached for the notebook on his desk. He’d started it the day he moved in, documenting everything he learned about the Marshalls. It was a habit from his contracting days, keep detailed records, note patterns, learn preferences. Information was leverage, and Bob never entered a situation without leverage.

He flipped to the latest page and began writing.

*Jess having dinner with a certain Chris Webb dinner Thursday night. Tom seemed to encourage it? Discussion about flirting with CW. Tom excited by this.

He tapped his pen against the page, considering what else to include. No need to waste ink on extensive details. The notebook was for facts, observations, ammunition, not his masturbatory fantasies.

*Tom also aroused by J’s interactions with me. She hugged me today (unexpected) and told T about feeling my hard-on. T excited by this. Both discussed “exploring boundaries” and “flirtation.” T giving J permission to “do whatever excites” her.

Bob set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. The implications of what he’d overheard were staggering. Tom Marshall, educated, successful, ambitious Tom Marshall, was encouraging his gorgeous wife to flirt with other men, perhaps even more. And not just any men. Him. Bob fucking Caldwell. The universe had just handed him the keys to the kingdom, and he hadn’t even had to pick the lock.

He’d suspected something was off with Tom since catching him watching through the window, but this was beyond his wildest expectations. And Jess seemed curious about exploring this side of herself.

The memory of her hug earlier that day sent fresh blood rushing to his cock. The feel of her body against his, soft yet firm, had been electric. And she’d felt his erection. She’d conformed it. There had been that moment of recognition, that slight tension in her body. Yet she hadn’t pulled away in disgust. She’d completed the hug naturally, no abrupt ending, no uncomfortable apology.

But more than just Chris Webb and himself, Bob was fascinated by the Marshalls’ dynamic. Tom might think he was setting boundaries, encouraging only mild exploration, but Bob recognized the language of escalation. “Do whatever makes you feel good” was a dangerous permission slip to hand someone, especially when that someone was already testing boundaries.

Bob swiped open a new browser tab and typed “Chris Webb developer Austin” into the search bar. Might as well know what kind of competition he was facing.

The search results populated quickly. Chris Webb’s LinkedIn profile appeared first, followed by articles in business journals, mentions in real estate publications, and photos from charity galas. Bob clicked through, studying the images that loaded.

Webb was everything Bob wasn’t. Tall, late forties, with the kind of teeth only money could buy and the kind of confidence that came from never hearing the word “no.” His custom suits probably cost more than Bob’s monthly rent. In one photo, he stood with his arm around a thin blonde woman, his wife presumably. In another, he was shaking hands with the mayor, both men beaming for the camera.

“Smug prick,” Bob muttered.

But there was no denying Webb had power, influence, and access. The idea of Webb pursuing Jess, of her responding to his attention, sent a jolt of jealousy through Bob’s body.

It was different with Tom. Tom was just the husband, the obstacle, the gatekeeper. But Webb? Webb was a direct competitor. Another predator in the same hunting ground.

Bob closed the browser and returned his attention to the camera feed. Nothing but darkness.

The knowledge that Tom had watched him masturbate, had stood outside his window while Bob stroked himself to completion looking at photos of Jess, now that was powerful leverage. Tom knew Bob desired his wife. Tom had watched Bob’s cock, had seen the size of it, had witnessed his release. And Tom had kept silent about it.

What would happen if Bob casually mentioned it? A subtle reference that only Tom would understand, dropped into conversation when Jess was present? “Saw you outside the other night, Tom. Enjoying the view?” The man would crumble, probably. Or would he? Maybe he’d admit it, confess his voyeurism, his arousal. Maybe it would create a strange bond between them, a silent understanding.

Or maybe Bob could use it more directly, lean into Tom’s apparent fantasy. “Your wife gave me quite the hug today, Tom. Very… stimulating. I’m sure you understand.”

So many options. So many ways to play this.

Bob scratched absently at the dried cum on his chest. He needed a shower before bed, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the feed just yet. He kept hoping they would shift in their sleep, that Jess might kick off the covers in the warm night, revealing more of herself to his hungry electronic eye.

He thought back to his marriages, to Sarah and Karen, to the slow death of passion in both relationships. He’d never understood women, not really. They were creatures of contradiction, saying one thing while meaning another, promising forever while already planning their exit.

Sarah had been fresh out of high school, impressed by his ambition and the growing success of his plumbing business. In those early years, she’d looked at him the way Jess looked at Tom, with admiration, desire, trust. Soon, those looks had morphed into impatience, disappointment, resentment. Years later, they’d stopped looking at each other at all.

And that real estate agent she’d fucked behind his back? Not so different from Chris Webb, come to think of it. Same type. Same smug confidence. Same ability to promise a lifestyle Bob couldn’t provide.

Karen had lasted longer, before her discontent surfaced. She’d sought escape in pills and shopping, funding both habits with Bob’s hard-earned money. marriage had ended with more of a whimper than Sarah’s had, both of them too exhausted for the drama of real conflict.

Bob snorted. Love and trust. What a fucking joke. Love was just chemicals in the brain, a biological trick to ensure reproduction. And trust? Trust was for fools who hadn’t yet learned how easily people betrayed each other. Tom and Jess would learn that lesson eventually. All couples did. The only question was who would teach it to them.

He reached for the bottle of Jack Daniel’s on his desk and took a swig directly from the bottle. The whiskey burned pleasantly going down, a familiar pain that reminded him he was still alive, still in the game.

Bob thought about Jess’s upcoming dinner with Chris Webb. Thursday night, when Tom would be safely tucked away in San Diego. Webb would make his move then, no doubt. He’d probably reserved a private table in that overpriced restaurant, would order expensive wine, would find excuses to touch her hand, her arm, the small of her back.

And Jess? What would she do? Would she remember her conversation with Tom, his permission to explore, to flirt, to “do whatever excites” her? Would she allow Webb’s touches? Would she respond to them?

The thought should have filled Bob with jealousy, with the territorial rage that had consumed him in his younger years. Instead, it fascinated him. If she responded to Webb, if she allowed certain liberties, it would make Bob’s own pursuit easier. She would have already crossed that first psychological barrier, already rationalized the initial steps away from conventional marital boundaries.

Webb, in essence, could be the unintentional pioneer, clearing the path for Bob’s own advance.

Bob turned to a fresh page in his notebook and began jotting down ideas. The possibilities were endless. And with Tom’s tacit encouragement of this boundary exploration, Bob had more leeway than he’d initially thought possible.

He took another pull from the whiskey bottle.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured to himself.

Bob closed the laptop, plunging the room into darkness. Exhaustion washed over him suddenly, the result of hours of intense focus and physical release. He needed to shower, to wash away the dried evidence of his excitement, but his bed beckoned more strongly.

He stood, his knees protesting the movement after hours of sitting hunched at his desk. The whiskey followed him to bed, one final swig before setting the bottle on his nightstand. His last coherent thought before sleep claimed him was of Jess’s body pressed against his during that brief, unexpected hug. The softness of her curves, the scent of her shampoo, the slight tension when she felt his hardness against her.

Soon, he promised himself as consciousness slipped away. So fucking soon.