Tom’s eyes cracked open to the insistent throb of a headache. The bedroom was flooded with daylight, not the gentle morning glow that usually filtered through their curtains, but the unforgiving brightness of late morning. He squinted at the bedside clock.

11:17 AM. Jesus Christ.

His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton and there was a dull pressure behind his eyes that suggested he was still halfway drunk.

Beside him, Jess lay sprawled on her stomach, blonde hair fanned across her pillow. The comforter had slipped down to reveal her bare back, a canvas of smooth skin interrupted by the red marks left there last night. After the club, after watching men’s hands on her body.

The memory triggered a confusing mixture of arousal and something darker. Images flickered through his mind. Jess on the dance floor, the crowd of bodies around her.

He rubbed his face, willing the foggy memories to organize themselves into something coherent. They’d gone to dinner at Vesper first, had the conversation about boundaries, established rules. Then they’d decided to test those boundaries at Domino, a high-end nightclub downtown.

It had seemed like such a controlled way to explore his fantasies, a public place where nothing too extreme could happen, where they could dip their toes in the water without risking the deep end.

But they’d miscalculated.

Tom slid out of bed carefully, trying not to wake Jess. His head protested the vertical position, and he steadied himself against the nightstand. The floor was littered with their clothes, tossed aside in their frantic rush to get at each other when they’d returned home. He vaguely remembered the Uber driver glancing into the rearview mirror as they’d kissed and groped with escalating urgency in the backseat.

He put on a fresh pair of boxers, then padded to the bathroom. The face in the mirror looked like it belonged to someone else. Eyes bloodshot, hair sticking up at odd angles, a shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. He splashed cold water on his face, then reached for the bottle of Advil in the medicine cabinet.

Two pills later, Tom made his way to the kitchen, driven by an urgent need for caffeine. He filled the coffee maker with grounds, hit the brew button, and leaned against the counter while it gurgled to life.

The coffee maker finished with a final sputter. Tom poured himself a mug and took a cautious sip, wincing as the hot liquid hit his dry throat. Better. Not great, but better. He poured a second mug for Jess, added the splash of cream and sugar she preferred, and carried both back to the bedroom.

Jess was stirring when he returned, one arm flung across her face to block out the light. Tom set her mug on the nightstand and perched on the edge of the bed beside her.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Brought you coffee.”

Jess made a sound somewhere between a groan and a word, then slowly lowered her arm. Her eyes, when they finally opened, were as bloodshot as his.

“What time is it?” she rasped.

“About eleven-thirty,” Tom replied. “How’s your head?”

“Like someone’s using it as a drum.” She pushed herself up to sitting, clutching the sheet to her chest in a gesture that struck Tom as oddly modest given what they’d done mere hours ago. “Is that coffee?”

“Your favorite morning after cure.” He handed her the mug, which she accepted gratefully.

“You’re a saint,” she murmured, blowing on the surface before taking a sip.

They sat in silence for a few moments, each nursing their coffee. Tom wanted to dive straight into analysis. What did she think? How did she feel? What lines had they crossed? but he held back, recognizing that Jess needed time to fully wake up, to gather her thoughts.

“Hungry?” he asked instead.

“Starving, actually,” she admitted. “But not sure my stomach’s ready for anything complicated.”

“Eggs and toast?” Tom suggested.

That earned him a smile. “Eggs and toast sounds perfect.”

Tom waited while Jess gathered enough energy to get out of bed. She slipped into her robe and ran a hand through her tangled hair.

“I look like hell,” she muttered, glancing at the mirror.

“You look beautiful,” Tom replied automatically, because it was true. Even hungover, with smudged makeup and pillow creases on her cheek, she was still the most stunning woman he’d ever seen.

Jess rolled her eyes, but he caught the hint of pleased color that rose to her cheeks. Together, they made their way to the kitchen, moving with the careful slowness of the truly hungover.

Breakfast preparation became a shared task, silent but synchronized. Tom handled the eggs while Jess popped bread in the toaster and set the table.

“So,” Jess said finally, breaking the comfortable silence. “That was… a night.”

Tom couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I don’t think I’ve been that drunk in years,” Jess admitted, settling into her chair as Tom brought the eggs to the table.

“The tequila shots were probably overkill,” Tom agreed, taking the seat across from her.

“Probably?” Jess raised an eyebrow. “You mean definitely. I lost count after the third one.”

Tom spread butter on his toast, searching for the right words, the right approach. There were so many angles to what had happened, so many layers to unpack.

“It wasn’t just the shots, though,” he ventured. “There were all those drinks guys kept buying you.”

“God, yes,” Jess groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I have a vague memory of someone ordering a round of something blue for everyone at the bar.”

“That would explain why your tongue was blue when you finally found me,” Tom remarked, the memory surfacing through the haze. “You looked like you’d been sucking off a Smurf.”

Jess snorted, nearly choking on her coffee. “Tom! That’s disgusting.”

“But true,” he insisted, grinning.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, both clearly sorting through the jumbled memories of the previous night. Finally, Tom decided it was time to broach the more serious aspects of their experience.

“So,” he began tentatively. “I think we made some big mistakes last night.”

Jess looked up from her plate. “Yeah,” she agreed. “We definitely did.”

“The drinking, for starters,” Tom said. “We both went way over our limits.”

“Especially me,” Jess acknowledged. “I shouldn’t have accepted all those drinks. I guess I got caught up in the… experience of it all.”

“I should’ve intervened,” Tom admitted. “I saw how much you were drinking, but I was caught up too. In watching you. In seeing how those guys reacted to you.”

Jess nodded, setting down her coffee mug. “We also didn’t check in with each other enough. We only talked once the whole night.”

“When you came to find me at the bar,” Tom said. “Around midnight?”

“I think it was closer to one,” Jess said. “Everything’s a bit blurry, to be honest.”

Jess had emerged from the crowd, slightly breathless, her face flushed from dancing, her tongue blue. He’d asked if she was okay, if she was enjoying herself. She’d admitted to feeling self-conscious. That’s when he’d told her to let loose, to forget he was there, to fully embrace the experience they’d come for.

And she had. After that brief conversation, she’d returned to the dance floor with a new abandon, allowing men to press closer, to whisper in her ear, to slide their hands lower on her hips and back.

“And then there was Morgan,” Tom said, the memory of bumping into his coworker causing a fresh wave of anxiety. “That was… unexpected.”

Jess winced. “Right. I forgot about that. You said you told him I was in the bathroom?”

“Yeah,” Tom confirmed. “Said we were just leaving. But who knows if he believed me. Or if he saw you dancing with those guys.”

Morgan wasn’t a close friend, but he was well connected at Davis & Associates. If he’d seen anything, if he started asking questions or, worse, spreading rumors…

“That could have been a disaster,” Jess said, voicing his thoughts. “Still could be if he recognized me.”

“Do you think he did?” Tom asked, pulse quickening.

Jess considered this, her brow furrowing. “I don’t know. We’ve only met a few times at company events. And the club was dark. I was in a big crowd…”

“But still,” Tom said, “it highlights the risk. We didn’t think that through at all.”

“No,” Jess agreed. “We didn’t.” She pushed her plate away, her appetite apparently gone. “What if it had been someone from my firm instead? Or a client? The emerald dress isn’t exactly forgettable.”

Their careers, their reputations, everything they’d worked for could be compromised by a single night’s exploration, a few hours of reckless boundary pushing in a public space.

“So that’s mistake number three,” Tom summarized. “Too much drinking, not checking in enough, and not considering the public exposure, the risk to our professional lives. Public means we can’t control who sees us.”

Jess nodded. “It was naive to think we could just blend into the crowd, especially in Austin. It’s not that big a city.”

They fell silent again, both processing the implications of these realizations.

Finally, Jess spoke again, her voice softer now, more thoughtful. “But besides all that… parts of it were… interesting.”

Tom looked up, meeting her eyes across the table. “Interesting how?”

“Being desired,” she said simply. “Feeling that power again. It reminded me of modeling, that rush of knowing people are looking at me, wanting me. But this was more… immediate. More primal, I guess.”

Tom swallowed. “Tell me about that.”

Jess hesitated, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like… when you’re working, you’re just you. Professional, focused on the task at hand. But last night, I was seen differently. Like purely sexual. Like something to be pursued.”

“And you liked that feeling,” Tom said, not a question but an observation.

“Parts of it,” she admitted. “The attention was kind of… intoxicating. But I also didn’t like feeling out of control. The alcohol, all the strangers… it was overwhelming at points.”

Tom nodded, understanding. “I felt something similar, watching you. It was like… every time a guy approached you, I felt this surge of… I don’t know. It’s what I mentioned before, almost like possessiveness but mixed with this crazy arousal. The jealousy and the turn on were all tangled up together.”

“And that was… good?” Jess asked cautiously.

“It was fucking intense,” Tom said. “Seeing men want you, seeing their hands on you, their mouths close to your ear, and at the same time knowing they couldn’t take you home. I was so goddamn hard the whole night, Jess. And when we finally got home…”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “That was… pretty spectacular.”

They’d barely made it through the front door before Tom had her against the wall, his hands everywhere, his mouth hungry on hers. They’d made it to the bed eventually, but not before a frenzied encounter in the hallway, clothes half-removed, inhibitions completely abandoned.

“Speaking of which,” Tom began. “When we were… you know, after we got home, you mentioned something about those guys on the dance floor. About feeling them… get hard against you.”

Jess’s flush deepened, but she didn’t look away. “Yes,” she confirmed. “A few of them. Especially that tall guy in the blue shirt. He was… very enthusiastic about dancing close.”

“Tell me about it,” Tom urged, leaning forward slightly.

Jess took a sip of coffee, then set the mug down. “It was strange, actually. Exciting but also… impersonal? They didn’t know me, not really. They just saw something they wanted.”

“How did they touch you?” Tom asked.

“Different ways,” she replied, her own voice matching his in intimacy. “Some were a bit unsure at first, just hands on my waist. Others were more… assertive. Hands sliding lower, pulling me closer.”

“And you could feel them? Against you?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Especially when they’d pull me back against them. I could feel them hard through their pants, pressing against my ass or my lower back. A couple of times, it was… very obvious what they wanted.”

Tom’s pulse quickened, imagination filling in the details her words sketched. “Did they say things to you? While you were dancing?”

Jess nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “They’d lean in close, use the music as an excuse to put their mouths near my ear. Some of it was just compliments, how beautiful I was, how sexy I looked in that dress.”

“But not all of it,” Tom pressed, sensing the hesitation in her voice.

“No,” she confirmed. “Some of it was… what they wanted to do to me. Where they wanted to take me.”

“And that turned you on,” Tom stated, remembering her gasped confessions from the night before, when she’d admitted to being wet on the dance floor, aroused by the attention.

“Yes,” Jess said softly. “More than I expected. It was like… I wasn’t Jessica Marshall, professional interior designer, Tom Marshall’s wife. I was just a random woman dancing in a club.”

“You were incredible to watch,” Tom told her, honesty raw in his voice. “The way you moved, the way you responded to them without ever quite giving in completely.”

“I was always aware of you,” Jess admitted. “Even when I was trying to pretend I wasn’t. I kept thinking about how it would look to you, what would be too far, what would hurt you versus what would excite you.”

“None of it hurt,” Tom assured her, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I mean, the jealousy was real. Seeing their hands on you, watching them lean in to try to kiss you… it did something to me. But it didn’t hurt, Jess. It was the opposite. It was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jess’s fingers tightened around his, her expression softening. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“Really,” Tom confirmed. “Last night just confirmed it. The jealousy, the possessiveness, it amplifies the excitement, the thrill.”

Jess nodded slowly, processing this. “I felt something similar,” she confessed. “Knowing you were watching, knowing what it was doing to you… that was a huge part of the turn on for me. It wasn’t just being wanted by all these strangers. It was being wanted by them while you watched.”

The honesty between them felt raw, exposed, but also cleansing. They were finally putting words to the complex dynamics that had been building between, naming the forces that had shifted the landscape of their marriage.

“So,” Tom said after a moment. “Where does that leave us? Last night proved this isn’t just fantasy. But it also highlighted the risks.”

Jess sighed, withdrawing her hand to run it through her hair. “I think we need to be more careful. Anything in public is risky. Morgan was a close call. Next time could be worse.”

“And the alcohol,” Tom added. “That was a huge mistake. It made us careless.”

“Exactly,” Jess agreed. “Plus, public means dealing with unpredictable strangers.”

“Not to mention the total lack of privacy,” Tom continued. “The whole point was to explore the fantasy in a controlled way. But a crowded nightclub isn’t exactly controlled.”

“No,” Jess said thoughtfully. “It’s not.”

They fell silent again. The risk was too great, the settings too unpredictable, the potential consequences too severe.

“So public exploration is off the table,” Tom summarized. “But that leaves us where, exactly?”

Jess set her mug down and looked directly at him, her expression serious but not closed off. “What about what we discussed before? About… Bob?”

Tom’s mind flashed to his conversation with Bob, to the older man’s matter of fact assessment of Tom’s desires, to his offer of “guidance” based on his own experiences with his ex-wife.

“I’m suggesting that I’m in a unique position here. I’m not a friend whose friendship you’d risk. I’m not a colleague whose gossip could damage your career. I’m not a complete stranger who might turn out to be dangerous. I’m just Bob, your tenant, with a clear understanding of what’s at play and the experience to navigate them safely.”

The words echoed in Tom’s memory, taking on new significance in light of their realization about public exploration. Bob represented a controlled environment, a known quantity, someone who lived in their house and whose discretion was guaranteed by his own self interest.

But Bob also knew Tom’s secret. Had seen him that night, watching through the window, had already leveraged that knowledge to initiate this very discussion.

“Tom?” Jess prompted when he remained silent. “What do you think?”

Her expression was open, curious, but not pressuring. She was genuinely seeking his opinion, unaware of the tangled web of complications that Bob’s involvement would bring.

The smart thing, the safe thing, would be to shut it down immediately. To suggest they find another avenue or perhaps acknowledge that some fantasies were better left unexplored.

But the image of Jess on that dance floor, desired, pursued, touched, remained burned into his brain. The memory of their frantic coupling afterward, the intensity of his arousal, her responsiveness, the raw honesty of their whispered confessions in the dark, all of it testified to a deeper truth he couldn’t deny.

These feelings, these desires, weren’t going away. Bob had been right about that much, at least.

“Bob,” Tom repeated. “You really think that might be the best approach?”

Jess hesitated. “I think it’s an option worth considering, given the risks we’ve with exploring this in public. He’s someone we know, in our home, with no connection to our professional lives. There’s a containment factor.”

Her language had shifted, becoming more analytical, more measured, the professional interior designer evaluating options rather than the wife discussing potential boundary explorations with her husband. Tom recognized the shift for what it was, a protective mechanism, a way to distance herself emotionally from a suggestion that carried significant weight.

“Containment,” Tom echoed, finding the term oddly appropriate given the volatile nature of what they were discussing. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“It’s not the only thing,” Jess added quickly. “There are others. The tenant-landlord relationship, the awkwardness if things go bad…”

“The age difference,” Tom contributed, watching her face. “The fact that he lives in our house, literally beneath our feet.”

“Yes,” Jess agreed. “All valid. But compared to the risks we saw last night…”

She left the sentence unfinished. Compared to potential professional scandal, to unpredictable strangers, to the complete loss of control that came with public exploration, Bob represented a known quantity. A contained risk.

Tom’s mind raced, calculating angles, considering possibilities. If he said no, would Jess press for the reason? Would she sense his evasion, his omission of the critical information about his interaction with Bob? But if he said yes, he’d be entering into an arrangement founded on deception, on a power dynamic that Bob had already manipulated to his advantage.

The sensible choice seemed obvious. Shut it down, find another way, protect Jess from Bob’s manipulations. But another part of Tom, a part he wasn’t particularly proud of at the moment, couldn’t help wondering what it would look like. Jess flirting with Bob, Bob’s hands on her while Tom watched.

“What if we just invited him for drinks in the yard?” Jess suggested, filling the silence. “Like when he moved in. Just a casual evening to see how it feels. No pressure, no expectations.”

“Drinks,” Tom repeated, the seemingly innocent suggestion igniting a cascade of potential scenarios in his mind.

“A toe in the water,” Jess clarified, leaning forward slightly. “We’d be in control, in our space, and we can end the evening at any point if it feels wrong.”

Her reasoning was sound. It was exactly the kind of thoughtful exploration of boundaries they’d discussed at Vesper, the kind of controlled experimentation they’d tried to achieve at Domino but failed due to the public setting and the alcohol.

“Just drinks,” Tom said, testing the idea. “Just conversation. Just… seeing.”

“Exactly,” Jess confirmed. “If it feels awkward or forced or just… wrong, then we thank him for the evening and move on, no harm done.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Tom asked, unable to stop himself. “If it feels… right?”

Something flickered in Jess’s eyes, a combination of uncertainty and curiosity. “Then we see where it goes. But slowly, carefully, with the boundaries we’ve established.”

The four Rules. Communication, veto power, privacy, and emotional boundaries. The framework they’d constructed at Vesper, the guidelines meant to protect their marriage from the potentially destabilizing forces they were deliberately inviting in.

Tom knew he should answer. Should give Jess some indication of where his thoughts were trending, of how he was processing her suggestion. But the implications stacked upon implications, the secrets upon secrets, made any straightforward response impossible.

“Tom?” Jess prompted again, her expression growing more concerned at his prolonged silence. “What are you thinking?”

The question was deceptively simple yet impossibly complex. What was he thinking? That Bob had manipulated him masterfully. That he was contemplating an arrangement based on a foundation of half-truths and omissions. That despite all that, despite the ethical gymnastics required to justify it, the thought of seeing Jess with someone else still sent a jolt of arousal through him so potent it was difficult to concentrate on the risks.

“I’m thinking,” Tom began carefully, “that we need to consider all the implications before we make any decisions. Bob isn’t just anyone. He’s our tenant. He lives in our house.”

“I know,” Jess acknowledged. “That’s what makes it both ideal and a problem.”

“Exactly,” Tom nodded, grateful she understood without him having to elaborate. “It’s not a decision to make lightly.”

“No,” Jess agreed. “It’s not.” She studied his face, her gaze searching. “But what do you want, Tom? What does your gut tell you?”

What did his gut tell him? It told him that Bob was manipulative, a potential threat to their marriage. But it also told him that the thought of Jess flirting with the older man was undeniably arousing.

His imagination supplied the scene with vivid clarity. The three of them in the yard, wine flowing, conversation growing more intimate, Jess deliberately pushing boundaries under Tom’s watchful eye. Bob’s hand finding her knee, her waist, her hair. Tom giving silent permission with a nod, a look, watching as another man wanted what was his, even touched what was his, but could never truly have what was his.

The fantasy collided with reality, with the memory of Bob’s smile, his casual confidence as he outlined Tom’s own desires to him with unsettling accuracy.

“The fantasies you’re having, Tom? They’re normal. More common than you’d think. But they need to be handled carefully. With respect for the marriage, with clear boundaries.”

Had Bob been manipulating him? Absolutely. But had he also been right? That was the question Tom couldn’t escape, the paradox he couldn’t resolve, the reason his answer to Jess remained suspended between yes and no.

He looked at his wife across the table, at her patient expectation, her willingness to explore these complex desires despite her own reservations, her trust in him to guide them through potentially treacherous waters. The thought made it difficult to breathe, to think clearly, to separate desire from danger.

“I want…” Tom began, then stopped, searching for words that could encompass the contradictory impulses warring within him. “I want to explore this with you, safely. I want to see where these feelings lead without risking what we have. I want…”

He trailed off, the truth too complex, too multilayered to express in a simple statement of desire. What did he want? Everything and nothing. To watch Jess with another man and to keep her completely to himself. To explore the depths of his fantasies and to protect their marriage from any threat. To be honest with her and to hide his own complicity in Bob’s machinations.

The contradictions paralyzed him, leaving him suspended between conflicting imperatives, unable to give Jess the clear answer she deserved.

“I think,” Tom said finally, “that we need to really consider whether Bob is the right… avenue for this. Whether the potential benefits outweigh the risks.”

—

Bob rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, the artificial glow of the laptop screen the only light in his office. His notebook lay open beside the keyboard. A half-empty mug of coffee had gone cold, forgotten as he’d focused on the feed from the camera hidden in the Marshalls’ bedroom.

He’d spent the night watching, waiting for them to return. When they finally stumbled through the door just after 2 AM, it had been immediately obvious they were drunk. Not tipsy, not buzzed, but proper shit faced drunk.

The night’s surveillance had yielded mixed results. The positioning of the camera, his amateurish mistake from the initial installation, still restricted what he could see. Mostly feet, the edge of the bed, glimpses of movement when they passed through the frame. But while the visual had been lacking, the audio had been educational.

Bob rewound the footage for the third time, stopping at the point where they’d burst into the bedroom, already half-undressed. The rustling of clothes, a zipper, Jess’s breathless laugh as she fell onto the bed.

“Tell me again,” Tom’s voice, hungry, demanding. “Tell me what it felt like when they touched you.”

“So many hands,” Jess had replied, her voice slurred but unmistakably aroused. “Kept pulling me against them, grinding on me.”

“And you got wet.” Not a question. A statement.

“Yes.” Her admission was breathless. “One guy kept pressing against my ass, whispering these filthy things…”

“Like what? Tell me exactly what he said.”

“That he wanted to take me to the bathroom, bend me over the sink.”

Bob grimaced at the memory of what followed, the wet sounds of kissing, of frantic movement. Tom’s voice growing rougher.

“Were you thinking about letting him? About following him to the bathroom?”

“No… maybe… I don’t know. It was just hot to hear, to feel how hard he was for me.”

Then the creaking of bedsprings, the rhythmic sound of sex, punctuated by Tom’s continued questions, each more explicit than the last, and Jess’s increasingly uninhibited responses.

Bob stopped the playback. They’d gone fucking clubbing. After all his careful groundwork, after the perfectly executed confrontation with Tom, after planting the seeds about safe exploration in controlled environments, they’d gone to a goddamn nightclub to explore their mutual fantasies with strangers.

He reached for his notebook, flipping back through the pages to the entry from last night.

“Friday evening. T arrived home from work. Intercepted him as he walked to front door. Casual conversation. T mentioned he and J were “going out tonight.” J emerged wearing green dress (formal/cocktail). T in suit. Definitely special occasion.”

He flipped forward, to the observations he’d made after their late-night return.

“Arrived home 2:13 AM. Both visibly intoxicated. J unsteady on heels, T supporting her as they entered. Clothes disheveled. Immediate sexual activity upon entry to bedroom. Context of conversation suggests nightclub environment. Multiple references to “dancing,” “the club,” “other guys.” J apparently engaged in physical contact with multiple men while T observed. They’re actively exploring T’s voyeuristic tendencies in public settings. This presents both obstacle and opportunity.”

Bob tapped his pen against the page, considering the implications. On one hand, their public exploration indicated that Tom had fully embraced his desires, had moved past the initial shock and shame of Bob’s confrontation. Good. The seeds were germinating.

On the other hand, if they found satisfaction in anonymous nightclub encounters, his careful positioning as their “safe guide” through these waters might become irrelevant.

“Fuck,” Bob muttered.

He stood and moved to the kitchen, retrieving a beer from the fridge. He popped the beer open and took a long pull, mind working through scenarios, evaluating options. Should he manufacture some reason to interact with them today? Create an opportunity to observe their post-club dynamic? No, that risked appearing too eager, too present. Better to maintain the careful distance he’d established all week.

After the confrontation with Tom last Saturday, Bob had deliberately played the long game. On Sunday, he’d convinced the couple to help with garden work, creating a shared activity where he’d been nothing but pleasant, never once hinting at the explosive conversation he’d had with Tom the day before. The stunned look on Tom’s face had been worth every bit of restraint it took to pretend nothing had happened.

The rest of the week had followed the same pattern. When Jess worked from home on Tuesday and Thursday, he’d made sure to be visible, tending the garden during her lunch breaks. Their conversations had been friendly, casual, completely innocent. Just a harmless older man sharing gardening tips with a pretty young landlord.

Bob took another drink of beer, mind shifting back to the problem at hand. The Marshalls had gone clubbing. They’d tested their boundaries in public. Jess had danced with strangers while Tom watched.

“Amateurs,” he scoffed, though there was more frustration than derision in the word.

The beer was cold and sharp in his throat as he pictured Jess on a dance floor, moving against strangers, letting them put their hands on her body. The image ignited both arousal and irritation. That should have been his hands. His opportunity. He’d laid the groundwork so carefully, had shown such patience.

But perhaps this was a necessary step. A testing of waters that would ultimately lead them back to the controlled environment he’d suggested. After all, nightclubs were notoriously unpredictable. Crowded, chaotic, filled with drunken strangers and potential disaster.

The Marshalls were smart people. They’d recognize the risks eventually. Might already be recognizing them, judging by how late they’d slept. Hangovers and regrets often went hand in hand.

He returned to his office, settling back into his chair and opening his notebook to a fresh page. At the top, he wrote: “NEXT STEPS.”

Under this heading, he began to list options, potential moves in the intricate game he was playing.

“1. Maintain distance. Allow them to process their clubbing experiment without interference. Patience. Let them come to their own conclusions about the risks of public exploration.

2. Create casual interaction opportunity to gauge mood, current relationship dynamic. Garden work? Home repair issue?

3. More aggressive approach. Direct reminder to T about our conversation. Risk appearing too eager, pushing too hard.”

Bob studied the options, weighing each against his understanding of the Marshalls’ psychology, their current situation, the balance of power and desire he was attempting to manipulate.

Option 1 felt safest. They’d come home drunk, had impulsive sex fueled by their clubbing experiment. They needed time to process, to discuss, to evaluate. Pushing now might create resistance. Better to be present but peripheral, available but not eager.

He closed the notebook and finished his beer, mind settled on a course of action. Patience was his strongest asset. He’d waited decades for a woman like Jess. He could wait a bit longer.

He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, and allowed himself to imagine the various paths this situation might take. Perhaps they’d eventually decide clubbing was too risky, too public. Perhaps they’d recognize the wisdom in his suggestion to Tom, a controlled environment, a known quantity, a safe space to explore dangerous desires.

Perhaps, in trying to distance themselves from his influence, they’d walked directly into the scenario that would ultimately lead them back to him.

Bob smiled at the ceiling. He’d played his hand well last Saturday, had planted the seeds carefully, had maintained discipline throughout the week. Now it was just a matter of waiting for those seeds to bear fruit.

Bob stood, stretching muscles stiff from hours in the chair. He would do yard work today. Something visible, productive. He would wave if he saw them, exchange pleasantries if the opportunity arose, but otherwise maintain respectful distance. The friendly neighbor. The helpful tenant. For now.

—

Sunday afternoon, Jess racked the barbell with a satisfying clang, feeling the pleasant burn in her quads that signaled a workout well done. Sweat trickled down as she stepped away from the squat rack, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Four sets of heavy squats had left her legs trembling slightly, but the physical exertion had accomplished exactly what she’d hoped, drowning out the noise in her head.

The gym had become her sanctuary today, a place where the only conversations that mattered were between her muscles and her mind. No analysis of Friday night’s club experiment. No breakfast discussions about Bob. No lingering questions about boundaries or jealousy or desires. Just iron, sweat, and the simple goal of pushing her body to its limits.

She’d left Tom at home, withdrawn in his office, catching up on work. They’d both needed the space, she suspected, time to process everything separately before coming back together. The weekend had been intense, to say the least, and sometimes the best way forward was a temporary step back.

Jess checked her watch. She’d completed her strength routine right on schedule, which left her thirty minutes for her usual treadmill finisher. She grabbed her water bottle and towel, scanning the cardio area for her favorite machine, the one positioned perfectly to see the entire gym floor while remaining somewhat removed from the main traffic areas.

Finding it unoccupied, she quickly claimed it, programmed her usual interval routine, and began her warmup jog. The steady rhythm of her feet hitting the belt created a meditative backdrop, allowing her thoughts to drift into neutral territory. Work projects. The landscaping Bob had started in their backyard. Whether she should try that new vegan restaurant Madi had been raving about.

Twenty minutes in, Jess had found her stride, maintaining a comfortable pace that kept her heart rate elevated without pushing into the red zone. Her playlist shifted to an uptempo track, and she increased her speed slightly, matching the beat. The endorphins were flowing now, creating that particular high that only came from pushing through physical discomfort into the sweet spot beyond.

She was so focused on her run that she didn’t notice Brandon until he was practically beside her treadmill, his imposing frame suddenly occupying her peripheral vision. He was wearing a fitted black tank top that seemed specifically designed to showcase his sculpted shoulders and arms, and compression shorts that left little to the imagination. His dark hair was damp with sweat, suggesting he’d been at the gym for a while already.

“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Brandon announced, loud enough to be heard over the music playing through her earbuds. “I was starting to think you’d found another gym, Jess.”

Jess pulled out one earbud, reducing her pace slightly to accommodate the conversation. “Not all of us have time to live at the gym, Brandon,” she shot back, but her tone was playful rather than dismissive.

“And here I thought you were avoiding me.” Brandon leaned against the adjacent machine. “Haven’t seen you in what, a month?”

“Some of us have actual jobs that require more than just looking pretty and talking fast,” she replied, referencing his career selling luxury cars. “I’ve been coming after work. And skipping weekends.”

“Until today.”

“Until today,” she confirmed. “Tom’s buried in work, so I figured I’d get out of the house.”

Brandon’s eyes made a journey down her body, lingering on her legs before returning to her face. “Those leggings should be illegal in at least thirty states. I have to keep telling you, Jess, you’re going to cause an accident.”

Jess rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite suppress the small flicker of pleasure his attention triggered. Brandon’s flirtation had always been so blatant, so unapologetic. She’d always dismissed it as just Brandon being Brandon, harmless but ultimately meaningless. But now, through the lens of Tom’s confessions and their recent explorations, it felt different. Charged. Significant.

A thought slipped through her defenses. What would Tom think if she flirted back? If she leaned into Brandon’s attention, then went home and told her husband all about it?

She pushed the idea away almost as quickly as it formed. Brandon was Tom’s friend. They had history, connections, overlapping social circles. Brandon wasn’t some anonymous stranger in a nightclub. He was a fixture in their lives, someone they’d have to face repeatedly.

Not to mention his friends with benefits arrangement with Madi created another layer of complication. The whole thing was a tangled web of potential consequences.

“How’s business?” she asked, steering the conversation toward more neutral territory. “Sell any overpriced midlife crisis mobiles lately?”

Brandon’s laugh was genuine, a deep rumble that always seemed to start in his chest. “As a matter of fact, I’m having my best quarter ever. Just last week, I sold a Bentley Continental GT to some tech kid who came in wearing flip-flops and a hoodie.”

“Let me guess, he paid cash?”

“Better. Didn’t even blink at the price tag. Three hundred grand might as well have been pocket change. Called his assistant right in front of me and had them wire the money. No financing, no haggling, just ‘I want the blue one with the cream interior.’”

Jess chuckled, imagining the scene. “Must be nice.”

“I mean, the commission alone…” Brandon trailed off, letting her imagination fill in the blanks. “But enough about my brilliance in separating rich guys from their money. How’s life treating you?”

“Been busy with work. I’ve got these new projects in Houston and Savannah that are taking up all my mental bandwidth.”

“Savannah, huh? Haunted mansions and Spanish moss? Sounds right up your alley.”

“Boutique hotel conversion of an 1850s mansion,” she clarified, impressed he’d remembered her professional interests so specifically. “It’s a dream project, honestly. Tons of creative freedom, huge budget.”

“And Tom? How’s he holding up with you being so in demand?”

“He’s been traveling himself,” she replied. “San Diego last week for a client emergency. We’re both just… busy.”

Brandon nodded, his expression suddenly more thoughtful than flirtatious. “That’s the hustle, I guess. Chase those careers.”

“Says the man who practically lives at the dealership.”

“Different when you’re building something for yourself,” he countered. “All those hours translate directly to my bottom line. Corporate warriors like you and Tom, though…” He shook his head. “Always working for someone else’s dream.”

“I love what I do,” Jess defended, increasing her pace slightly.

“Never said you didn’t. Just wondering if the balance is worth it.” Brandon’s eyes met hers with unexpected directness. “When was the last time you two actually had fun?”

Friday night at Domino had been many things, exciting, boundary-pushing, illuminating. But “fun” wasn’t exactly the right word. It had been an experiment, a deliberate exploration of complicated desires.

“We manage,” she said finally. “Everyone’s busy these days.”

“Which is exactly why Madi’s been bugging me to set up a double date night,” Brandon replied, shifting back to his more typical lighthearted tone. “Dinner, drinks, maybe hit up that new place on Sixth Street that has the arcade games.”

“She mentioned that the other day,” Jess acknowledged. “Just haven’t had time to coordinate schedules.”

“Make time,” Brandon suggested. “Life’s too short to just work and sleep. Plus, I haven’t had a chance to properly harass Tom in weeks.”

Jess laughed, grateful for the lighter turn. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Part of my charm.” Brandon’s smile shifted to something slightly more intimate. “Speaking of which, have I mentioned how especially stunning you look today? Something about the whole sweaty, endorphin high thing really works for you.”

“I bet you say that to all the married women you harass at the gym,” Jess countered, but there was no bite to her words.

“Nope, just the ones I’ve had a crush on for years.”

“Yes, Brandon, I know. You’ve told me approximately a hundred times now.”

“And I’ll keep telling you until you finally admit there’s something between us.”

“There’s definitely something between us,” Jess agreed. “It’s called boundaries.”

Brandon clutched his chest. “That hurts, Jess. And after I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman.”

“Perfect gentleman?” Jess scoffed. “The last time we talked, you were practically writing an ode to my ass.”

“I call it like I see it,” Brandon shrugged unapologetically.

“How’s Madi?” Jess asked, changing the subject. “Besides wanting to set up double dates?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Brandon wagged a finger. “You don’t get to deploy the Madi card just when the conversation gets interesting.”

“I’m not deploying anything. I’m genuinely curious about my best friend.”

“She’s good,” Brandon conceded. “Busy with some charity gala she’s planning. You probably know more than I do, honestly. You two are practically joined at the brain.”

“We talk,” Jess confirmed.

“About me, I hope,” Brandon’s cocky grin returned full force. “All good things, right?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jess retorted.

Brandon leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate register. “I would, actually. Very much.”

Jess felt a small thrill at his persistence, at the unabashed way he made his interest known. There was something refreshing about his straightforwardness, his comfort in his own skin. Brandon Steele knew exactly who he was and made no apologies for it.

“I’m sure your ego is robust enough without my contribution,” Jess replied.

“My ego’s just fine,” Brandon agreed. “But a man likes to know where he stands.”

“You stand precisely where you’ve always stood, Brandon. As Tom’s friend who enjoys playing the harmless flirt.”

“Harmless?” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”

“Isn’t it?” Jess challenged, matching his gaze.

Brandon’s smile shifted, becoming something more genuine, almost vulnerable. “Maybe not entirely,” he admitted. “But I know the score. You’re Tom’s wife. I respect that, even if I occasionally enjoy testing the boundaries.”

Usually, their exchanges remained firmly in the realm of playful banter, never acknowledging the undercurrent that sometimes flowed beneath. This moment of honesty created an unexpected intimacy that made her slightly uncomfortable.

“Well, now you’ve gone and made it weird,” she said lightly.

Brandon laughed, the moment passing as quickly as it had arrived. “Can’t have that, can we? Let me try again.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Damn, Jess, those leggings make your ass look like…”

“Much better,” Jess interrupted, joining his laughter. “Now you’re back to being the Brandon I know how to handle.”

“Handle, huh? Interesting choice of words.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he conceded. “But seriously, about that double date. You should talk to Tom. It’s been too long since we all hung out.”

“I’ll mention it,” Jess promised. “Once things calm down a bit with work.”

“Don’t make me put Madi on you,” Brandon warned. “You know she’ll be relentless.”

“Trust me, she already is.” Jess checked the time on the treadmill display. “I’ve only got a few minutes left on this run.”

“Perfect timing. I was about to hit the showers anyway.” Brandon straightened, stretching his arms overhead in a movement that showcased his impressive physique. “Unless you’d care to join…”

“Don’t push your luck, Brandon,” Jess cut him off.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He stepped back, giving her space. “You’ll talk to Tom about getting together?”

“I said I would.”

“Good.” Brandon’s smile became genuine again. “Text Madi when you guys figure out a date that works.”

“Will do.”

Brandon offered a small salute before turning to leave. “See you around, Jess. Try not to break too many hearts on your way out.”

“Goodbye, Brandon,” Jess called after him, shaking her head slightly as she watched him walk away.

The treadmill beeped its one-minute warning, and Jess returned her focus to finishing strong. As she pushed through the final interval, she found herself replaying the conversation with Brandon, examining it from different angles.

What would Tom think of their exchange? Would hearing about Brandon’s persistent flirtation trigger that same complex mixture of jealousy and arousal that the club had inspired?

The final beep sounded, and the treadmill began its cool-down cycle. Jess slowed to a walk, her breathing gradually returning to normal as she contemplated the complicated web of relationships, desires, and boundaries that seemed to be growing more intricate by the day.

Her phone chimed with a text as she headed toward the exit.

Tom: Finished most of my work. Thinking about grilling for dinner. How’s the gym?

Jess smiled, typing a quick reply.

Jess: Just finished. Bumped into Brandon. Same old Brandon. Steaks sound perfect. Be home in 20.

She hesitated, then added a message.

Jess: Love you.

His response was immediate.

Tom: Love you too. See you soon.

Jess slipped her phone into her bag and pushed through the gym doors into the bright afternoon sunlight.

—

Tom pulled into the driveway at 8:10 PM on Tuesday, tires skidding slightly on the pavement in his haste. He’d been held up by unexpected traffic, a fender bender on the highway that had cost him nearly twenty minutes of sitting in gridlock, inching forward while checking the clock every thirty seconds.

Twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, especially today.

He grabbed his laptop bag and nearly sprinted to the front door, fumbling with his keys for a moment before managing to get the door unlocked. Tom took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing with anticipation.

“Jess?” he called, emerging into their living room slightly breathless.

“In the kitchen,” she called back, her voice casual, betraying nothing.

Tom crossed to the kitchen entrance, where he found Jess in front of the stove, stirring something that smelled like garlic and herbs. She wore simple gray leggings and an oversized sweatshirt she’d stolen from him years ago. Nothing unusual. Nothing that indicated… anything.

“Hey,” she smiled over her shoulder. “You’re just in time. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“How was your day?” Tom asked, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral. It came out too eager, too quick.

Jess’s eyes flickered to his face, a slight smile playing on her lips. She knew exactly why he was rushing, why he was almost vibrating with curiosity. “My day was fine,” she replied, turning back to the stove. “The usual Tuesday. How was yours?”

“Fine. Good. Busy.” The details of his work day seemed impossibly trivial right now, not worth the breath it would take to recount them. “Did you, uh, work from home?”

“Mmhmm,” Jess hummed, removing a baking dish from the oven. Lasagna, Tom noted absently. One of his favorites. “Got a lot done on the Savannah project. They loved the preliminary concepts I sent over.”

Tom watched her move around the kitchen, searching for any hint, any clue. “That’s great,” he said automatically. “Did you… take any breaks? Go outside at all? It was nice out today.”

Jess’s smile widened slightly as she set the lasagna on a trivet. “I did, actually. Took advantage of the sunshine.”

“Yeah?” Tom prompted, moving closer, his hands finding her waist. “How’d that go?”

Jess turned in his arms, her expression amused. “Tom Marshall, are you fishing for details about something specific?” she asked, her tone light and teasing.

“Maybe,” he admitted, not even bothering to deny it. “After our conversation yesterday…”

“Right,” Jess said, her eyes meeting his directly. “That conversation.”

Their long, intimate talk the night before, when they’d discussed boundaries again, when they’d mapped out potential next steps in this exploration of his fantasies, when Jess had surprised him with her receptiveness to his suggestions.

“So?” Tom pressed. “Did you…?”

“All in good time,” Jess replied, gently disentangling herself from his arms. “Let’s eat first. I’m starving, and I put a lot of effort into this lasagna.”

Tom groaned, equal parts frustrated and amused. “You’re killing me here.”

“Patience is a virtue,” she sang, placing a hand on his chest and gently pushing him toward the table. “Food, then talk.”

“Fine,” Tom conceded, allowing himself to be guided to his chair. “But just so you know, this is torture.”

“So dramatic,” Jess laughed, bringing the lasagna to the table. “It’s just dinner, Tom.”

But they both knew it wasn’t just dinner. There was a charge in the air, an electric anticipation. Tom tried to focus on the food, which was delicious as always, but his mind kept skipping ahead, imagining possibilities, constructing scenarios based on Jess’s cryptic hints.

Had she actually followed through on what they’d discussed? Had she taken that step? And if so, how had it felt for her?

“You’re not even tasting that, are you?” Jess observed as Tom hastily forked another bite of lasagna into his mouth.

“What? No, it’s great,” Tom insisted, forcing himself to slow down and actually savor the food. “Really good.”

“Sure,” Jess said skeptically, though her smile remained. “You’ve had the same expression on your face for the past five minutes, and it’s not your ‘wow this lasagna is amazing’ look.”

“I just… I can’t stop thinking about…”

“I know,” Jess said softly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “And I promise we’ll talk about it. In detail. Just let me feed you first, okay?”

There was something in her tone, a combination of tenderness and anticipation, that helped Tom rein in his impatience. He squeezed her hand, then focused on enjoying the meal she’d prepared, asking about her work projects, sharing a few highlights from his own day.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only fifteen minutes, they finished eating. Jess stood to clear the plates, but Tom jumped up.

“I’ll get those,” he said quickly. “You cooked.”

“Such a gentleman,” she teased, though she didn’t protest as he gathered the dishes and deposited them in the sink.

“Living room?” Tom suggested, and Jess nodded, leading the way to their couch.

She grabbed the remote as they settled in, turning on Netflix and scrolling through options with apparent casualness, as if they were just having a normal Tuesday evening. Tom watched her with impatience while also enjoying the torture of anticipation.

“So,” he finally said when he couldn’t stand it any longer. “Are you going to tell me about your day, or do I have to guess?”

Jess lowered the remote and bit her lower lip, her expression shifting from casual to something more intimate. She turned to face him, tucking one leg beneath her on the couch.

“Well,” she began, her voice soft. “You know how we talked yesterday about maybe… testing things?”

Tom nodded. “It was just yesterday. I remember.”

“And you suggested that maybe words weren’t the best starting point. That something more…” she paused, searching for the right word, “…visual might be a clearer signal of intent.”

“Yes,” Tom managed, his pulse quickening as she confirmed what he’d been wondering all evening.

Jess’s eyes held his, a slight flush spreading across her cheeks. “I thought about what you said. A lot, actually. And today, when I took my lunch break, I decided to… experiment.”

Tom leaned forward, unable to help himself. “What did you do?”

A small, almost shy smile curved Jess’s lips. “Well, it was such a beautiful day. Sunshine, blue skies, hot enough that the pool looked inviting.”

“Go on,” Tom prompted when she paused.

“I put on my red swimsuit,” Jess continued, watching his reaction. “You know the one. The one-piece that looks like something out of Baywatch. I figured… why not take a quick dip while Bob was working in the yard?”

Tom’s heart was hammering in his chest. The red swimsuit. The one that displayed her long legs to perfection, that dipped low enough in front to show the upper curve of her breasts. It was devastatingly sexy on Jess.

“You went swimming? While Bob was outside?” Tom asked.

“I did,” Jess confirmed, her eyes never leaving his face. “I went downstairs, said hello to Bob while he was pruning those bushes along the fence, and then I took a quick swim.”

“And?” Tom pressed. “What happened?”

“Well,” Jess shifted slightly, her posture relaxing as she settled into the story. “Bob pretended he wasn’t watching me, but I could tell he was. I could feel his eyes on me while I swam. Nothing creepy, just… appreciative, I guess. When I came out, he had an iced tea waiting for me.” She laughed softly. “He said the heat must be making me thirsty.”

“Thoughtful of him,” Tom murmured, his mind filling in the visual. Jess emerging from the pool, water streaming down her body. Bob trying to be casual while offering her a drink.

“We sat on the loungers for a bit,” Jess continued. “He had a beer, I had the tea. Just chatting. About twenty minutes or so.”

“What did you talk about?” Tom asked, imagining the scene with vivid clarity.

“Nothing special,” Jess shrugged. “The weather, the yard, basic stuff. But the whole time, I could tell he was… affected. He kept shifting in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs. At one point, he actually dropped his beer when I stretched and had to scramble to catch it before it spilled everywhere.”

Tom couldn’t help the small surge of satisfaction that rushed through him at the image. “He was turned on,” he stated.

“Oh, definitely,” Jess confirmed, her smile widening slightly. “But he was trying so hard to be respectful, to not make it obvious. It was kind of sweet, actually. A bit shy, even.”

“Bob? Shy?” Tom raised an eyebrow, thinking of the man’s confidence in their private conversation.

“I know, right? But he was. He kept his eyes on my face most of the time, very deliberately. When they did wander, he’d catch himself and immediately look away, like he was scolding himself for looking.” Jess laughed softly. “It was almost endearing.”

“What did he say?” Tom pressed, fascinated by this glimpse of Bob through Jess’s eyes.

“He complimented me, said it was obvious I took care of my body. But he said it in this careful way, like he was trying to be respectful about it. So I told him about going to the gym and my yoga classes.”

Jess shifted on the couch, leaning closer to Tom. “He made this joke about how he’d be enjoying the pool more often now that the weather was nice. As if he wasn’t completely transparent.”

“Oh, and he did it again,” Jess added, almost as an afterthought.

“Did what?” Tom asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

“Called me ‘princess’ again,” Jess replied. “When I was getting out of the pool. He said something like ‘careful there, princess’ when I almost slipped on the steps. It just… slipped out naturally, like he’s used to saying it.”

Tom felt his mouth go dry. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, really. I just smiled.”

“And how did that make you feel?” Tom asked, studying her face. “Having him look at you like that?”

Jess caught her bottom lip between her teeth again, considering. “Powerful,” she admitted after a moment. “Like I was in complete control of the situation. I knew exactly what I was doing to him, and I decided how much to give, how far to take it.” She met Tom’s eyes directly. “It was… exciting.”

Tom swallowed hard, his body responding to her words, to the flush on her cheeks, to the memory of their conversation the day before when he’d suggested exactly this scenario. “And after? When you went back upstairs?”

“I finished my work,” Jess said simply. “But I kept thinking about it. About the way he looked at me, about how obvious his reaction was.” She leaned even closer. “And about how I would tell you about it later. That was the most exciting part.”

Tom couldn’t resist any longer. He reached for her, pulling her into his lap so that she straddled him. His hands found her hips, gripping them firmly as he looked up into her face. “You’re incredible,” he breathed. “Do you know that?”

Jess smiled, her hands resting on his shoulders. “I’m glad you think so. Because there’s more.”

Tom’s eyebrows shot up. “More? What else happened with Bob?”

“Not Bob,” Jess clarified, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “After work. I went to yoga.”

“Oh,” Tom said, momentarily thrown by the shift. “Right. It’s Tuesday. Yoga day.”

“Mmhmm,” Jess confirmed. “And guess who was there? Still subbing for Amber while she’s on maternity?”

“Derek,” Tom supplied, the name sending a small jolt through him. Derek, the incredibly fit yoga instructor Jess had mentioned before. The one who’d given her those hands on “adjustments” to her posture.

“Exactly,” Jess nodded, watching his reaction. “I haven’t been to yoga in a couple of weeks, but there he was, still teaching the class and still offering that extra hour for advanced students afterward.”

“And you stayed for the extra hour,” Tom guessed.

“I did,” Jess confirmed. “There were a few of us there.”

Tom’s hands tightened slightly on her hips. “And did Derek remember you?”

“Oh, he remembered me,” Jess said, her voice slightly teasing. “He made a point of coming over to help with my postures.”

“Did he now?” Tom tried to keep his voice neutral, but a hint of jealousy tinged arousal slipped through.

“He’s very hands on with his teaching,” Jess continued, clearly enjoying Tom’s reaction. “While I was in Warrior II, he came up behind me and put his hands on my hips, rotating them to ‘improve my alignment.’ Then for the handstand, he spotted me, one hand on my waist, the other on my ankle.”

Tom’s imagination displayed the scene in vivid detail. Derek, with his athletic build and professional demeanor, standing close behind Jess, touching her body under the guise of teaching.

“After everyone else left, we talked for a bit,” Jess added. “He brought up that conversation we had last time, about the deeper aspects of yoga. Energy flow and all that.”

“Do you…” Tom hesitated, then decided to just ask directly. “Do you find him attractive?”

Jess’s smile widened slightly, her eyes holding his. “Yes,” she admitted frankly. “He’s handsome, Tom. His body is like a sculpture, all lean muscle from years of yoga practice. And his skin is this incredible dark brown. When he demonstrates poses, it’s like watching art in motion.”

Tom’s grip on her hips tightened further, his body reacting to her honest description. “Go on,” he urged.

“He’s tall, maybe six-three or six-four, and he has this presence. It’s not like Brandon’s cockiness. It’s more… quiet confidence? Like he’s completely comfortable in his own skin.” Jess shifted slightly on Tom’s lap, and he knew she could feel his growing arousal beneath her. “When he teaches, he barely has to raise his voice. Everyone just naturally pays attention to him.”

“And he pays attention to you,” Tom noted, a statement rather than a question.

“He does,” Jess confirmed, her hands sliding from Tom’s shoulders to his chest. “The way he looks at me is different from how Bob looked at me today, or how Brandon looks at me at the gym. It’s less obvious but more… intense somehow. Like he’s seeing right through me.”

Tom’s hands moved from her hips to her waist, slipping under the hem of her sweatshirt to find warm skin. “And that… affects you?” he asked, searching her face.

“It does,” Jess admitted softly. “But then I came home, thinking about how I’d tell you all of this. How I’d watch your reaction.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Do you know what I’ve realized, Tom? I’ve had three different men look at me with open desire in the past three days. Brandon at the gym on Sunday, Bob today at lunch, Derek tonight at yoga.”

Tom held his breath as her words sank in. “And?” he managed.

“And if we’re really serious about exploring this… whatever this is between us,” Jess continued, “it wouldn’t be very hard to find willing participants.”

Something about her phrasing, about the directness of her statement, sent a jolt of both arousal and apprehension through Tom. This was no longer hypothetical, no longer just a fantasy to whisper about in the safety of their bedroom. Jess was acknowledging real possibilities, real people who desired her, who might act on that desire given the opportunity.

“Since you brought all this up,” Jess said, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes, “I can’t stop noticing it. The way men look at me. The way they react to me. And I can’t help wondering what it would be like to… explore that. To flirt back. To let them think they might have a chance.”

Her hands moved down to the hem of Tom’s shirt, slipping underneath to touch his bare skin. “But we need to be so, so careful,” she added. “There’s a lot of ways this could go wrong. That’s why we set those rules, those boundaries. No friends, no colleagues, no emotional connections. Complete honesty with each other.”

“I know,” Tom agreed. “I know the risks.”

“Do you really?” Jess pressed, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Because once we open this door, Tom, I’m not sure we can close it again. Not completely.”

Her words were sobering despite the charge of arousal still crackling in the air. She was right. They were venturing into territory that could change them, change their marriage in ways they couldn’t fully anticipate.

“I want this,” Tom said, his voice steady despite the doubt lingering at the edges of his mind. “I want to explore it with you. Whatever it is. Wherever it leads us.”

“Even if it means another man’s hands on me like at Domino?” Jess asked.

Tom’s heart continued to hammer against his ribs, a physical manifestation of the conflict within him. Fear and desire, jealousy and arousal, all tangled together in a knot he couldn’t begin to unravel.

“Especially then,” he said.

Jess studied his face for a long moment, searching for something. Whatever she found seemed to satisfy her, because her expression softened, her body relaxing against his.

“Okay,” she whispered, her hands moving up to frame his face. “Then we’ll explore it together. Carefully. Following our rules.”

Tom nodded, unable to form words. Instead, he pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. Her response was immediate, her body melting against his as her mouth opened to deepen the kiss.

What had begun as conversation shifted seamlessly into something more primal. Tom’s hands moved beneath Jess’s sweatshirt, finding the clasp of her bra, unfastening it.

Jess broke the kiss long enough to pull the sweatshirt and bra off, revealing her bare torso. Tom’s hands moved to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, drawing a soft gasp from her lips.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Tom admitted. “About Bob watching you come out of the pool, all wet in that red swimsuit. About Derek putting his hands on you during yoga.”

“And that turns you on,” Jess observed, grinding her hips down against his obvious arousal. “Knowing they want me. Knowing they can look but not touch. Not the way you can.”

“God, yes,” Tom groaned, his hands moving to her ass, gripping firmly through the thin material of her leggings. “Tell me more about Bob. How did he look at you when you came out of the pool?”

Jess smiled. “Like he was dying of thirst and I was the last drop of water on Earth,” she said. “His eyes went so wide when I climbed out of the pool. I could practically hear his thoughts.”

“What do you think he was thinking?” Tom asked, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass.

“That he wanted to peel that wet suit off me,” Jess whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “That he wanted to feel if I was as wet underneath it.”

Tom’s hips bucked involuntarily, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. “Were you? Wet underneath?”

“Maybe a little,” Jess admitted, her smile turning wicked. “From the way he looked at me, from knowing I’d be telling you all about it later.”

Her confession ignited something in Tom. He surged forward, kissing her more passionately, his hands moving to the waistband of her leggings. Jess lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them down, along with her underwear, until they tangled around her knees.

“And Derek?” Tom asked between kisses, his fingers finding her pussy. “Did he make you wet too?”

“Yes,” Jess gasped as his fingers slipped through her folds, finding her already slick. “The way he touched me during poses, so professional on the surface but there was something else…”

Tom’s thumb found her clit, circling it. “Something like what?” he prompted, watching her face contort with pleasure.

“Like he knew exactly what he was doing to me,” Jess managed, her hips rocking against his hand. “Like every adjustment was an excuse to touch me, to see how I’d respond.”

“And how did you respond?” Tom pushed two fingers inside her, feeling her inner walls clench around them.

“I…” Jess’s voice faltered as his fingers curled, finding that spot inside her that made her gasp. “I let him. I leaned into his touch. I might have… mmm… moaned a little when he pressed deeper.”

The image seared itself into Tom’s brain, feeding the fire already burning in his veins. Jess, in her tight yoga clothes, responding to another man’s touch with a sound of pleasure he knew intimately.

“Show me,” Tom demanded, his fingers working her with increasing urgency. “Show me how you sound when he touches you.”

Jess’s head fell back, exposing the long column of her throat. The sound that escaped her lips was soft but unmistakably erotic, a breathy moan that sent blood rushing to Tom’s already painfully hard cock.

“Fuck,” he growled, his free hand fumbling with his belt, desperate now to feel her around him. “I need to be inside you.”

Jess hopped off, her fingers unfastening his pants and pushing them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, hard against his stomach. She got back on top, positioning herself above him, her eyes locked on his as she slowly sank down, taking him in inch by exquisite inch.

“Oh god,” Tom breathed as she enveloped him completely, her heat and wetness nearly unbearable in their intensity. “You feel so fucking amazing.”

Jess began to move, rocking her hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Tom moved his hands to her waist, guiding her movements.

For a long moment, they moved in sync, both enjoying the exquisite sensation provided by their life partner.

“Tell me,” Jess urged, her voice breathy as she rode him. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I’m thinking about how fucking beautiful you are,” Tom managed. “About how lucky I am that you’re mine, that you come home to me, even when so many other men want you.”

“I’ll always come home to you,” Jess promised, her pace increasing. “No matter who looks, who wants, who touches, I’m yours, Tom.”

The combination of physical pleasure and the emotional reassurance exactly what he needed. “Mine,” he agreed, thrusting up to meet her downward movements. “Even when you’re with someone else, you’re still mine.”

His words, the acknowledgment of her “with someone else” added another layer of intensity to their connection.

Jess leaned forward, changing the angle so that her clit ground against him with each movement.

Tom’s hand moved between them, fingers finding her clit again, circling it with firm pressure. “Come for me,” he urged. “Come on my cock while you think about all of them wanting you.”

That seemed to do the trick. Moments later, Jess cried out, her body tensing then shuddering as waves of pleasure radiated out from her pussy. Tom felt her inner walls pulsing around him, drawing him toward his own release. But not yet. Not quite yet.

As her orgasm subsided, Jess slumped forward, her forehead resting against his for a moment as she caught her breath. Then, with a smile that was both tender and wicked, she climbed off him and slid to her knees between his thighs.

“My turn,” she murmured, her hand wrapping around his cock, still slick with her juices.

Tom’s head fell back against the couch cushions as Jess’s mouth enveloped him, warm and wet and perfect. Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock before she took him deeper.

“God, Jess,” he groaned, one hand tangling in her hair. “That feels… fuck…”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes lifting to meet his as she continued stroking him with her hand.

“Now what are you thinking about?” she asked. “When you’re close like this, what’s in your mind?”

“You,” Tom managed, his breathing ragged. “Always you.”

“Just me?” she pressed, her tongue darting out to tease the sensitive spot just beneath the head of his cock. “Or me with someone else?”

The directness of her question, combined with the physical sensation of her mouth and hand, pushed Tom dangerously close to the edge.

“You…” he started, but lost his train of thought as she took him deeper again. “God, I’m picturing you sucking on Bob’s huge cock.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. Tom froze, horror flooding through him at what he’d just revealed. Jess paused for a fraction of a second, then continued, her rhythm barely faltering.

“Is that what you want?” she asked as she pulled back. “To see that?”

“I…” Tom swallowed hard, trying to recover. “Yeah. One of many fantasies.”

She smiled up at him, seemingly accepting his explanation as she lowered her mouth over him again.

Tom exhaled shakily, both from the physical sensation and relief that she hadn’t questioned how he knew about Bob’s size. Jess’s movements became more focused now, more deliberate. Tom’s hands found her hair, not guiding but simply holding on, anchoring himself as pleasure built.

“I’m close,” he warned, his hips jerking involuntarily. “Jess, I’m going to-”

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she looked up, meeting his gaze directly as she took him to the root, her throat relaxing to accommodate his full length. The sight of her, on her knees, eyes locked on his, lips stretched around his cock, undid him.

Tom came with a shout, his whole body tensing as he came. Jess stayed with him through it, swallowing every last drop, her eyes never leaving his face.

When the last tremors subsided, she finally pulled back, a smile playing on her lips as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Tom reached for her, pulling her up into his lap again, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against her hair. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” Jess replied, her voice soft against his neck. “No matter what happens, no matter where this goes, that won’t change.”

They stayed like that for several minutes, simply holding each other, catching their breath, processing not just the physical connection they’d shared but the emotional implications of their ongoing exploration.

Eventually, Jess shifted, pulling back slightly to look at his face. “We should get cleaned up,” she suggested with a small smile. “And maybe finish watching something on Netflix like a normal couple.”

Tom laughed, releasing her reluctantly. “Normal. Right.”

As Jess disappeared into the bathroom, Tom sat back on the couch, his mind replaying the events of the evening. Jess in her red swimsuit, Bob’s barely concealed desire, Derek’s “adjustments” during yoga, all of it now woven into the fabric of their shared experience, their evolving dynamic.

And his slip-up about Bob’s “huge cock.” Would she question that later? How would he explain knowing something so intimate about their tenant? The thought made his stomach tighten with anxiety, but for now at least, she seemed to have accepted it as just another facet of his fantasy.

Questions surfaced in his mind. Should he talk to Jess about his conversation with Bob? Should he talk to Bob himself? Acknowledge what was happening, address the older man’s manipulations directly?

The thought of admitting to Jess that he and Bob had already discussed her filled Tom with a sense of dread. What could he possibly say? If he revealed Bob’s approach, Jess would rightfully be furious at both of them. If he tried to establish some kind of ground rules with Bob without telling Jess, he’d be perpetuating the very deception he was trying to avoid.

No, Tom decided as Jess returned, her face freshly washed, her smile soft and genuine. For now, the best approach was to simply follow the path they’d begun to map out together. Bob was a complication, yes, but one they could navigate if they stayed focused on each other.

Jess settled beside him on the couch, curling into his side as she reached for the remote. “So, what are we watching?” she asked, as if they were just any other couple on a Tuesday night, as if they hadn’t just crossed another threshold in their relationship.

“You choose,” Tom replied, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I trust your judgment.”

And he did. Despite the complexities they were navigating, despite the risks inherent in their exploration, despite his own conflicted feelings, Tom trusted Jess completely. Whatever came next, they would face it together, step by careful step, finding their way through this uncharted territory they’d chosen to explore.