Max’s apartment. Dim lights. Heart hammers in my chest. Three weeks since our first fuck. Guilt gnaws, but pussy throbs at his texts. Monday night. Lied to husband about a work trip. Max picks me…
Venice hotel bar. Dim lights. Empty stools. Heart heavy from Rose’s rejection. No honeymoon fire. Just fatigue. I sip whiskey. She slides in nearby. Tight dress. Thighs flash on high seat. Vodka, sharp voice. Alone.…
Late consultation drags on. My obstetrician-gynecologist’s eyes linger too long on my curves. Post-divorce glow? No, deeper hunger. Heart hammers as he suggests a drink. ‘Just to unwind,’ he says. Pulse races. Skin prickles. I…