He’d said he’d be there after six, but he steals into the house at midday.

Martin gone for hours, Sadie all alone.

The bedroom door ajar. Half-naked Sadie kneeling on the bed, head down, hips raised: yoga posturing.

Her black panties whip at his senses.

“I wondered when you’d get here,” she sighs.

Jellied legs carry him forward. She doesn’t shrink from his fevered gaze. Trembling, he reaches out, eases her panties back and down, baring her allure.

“You want to fuck your best friend’s wife.” She’s stating, not questioning.

Swallows. “Yes.”

“Then fuck me.”

And he does.

He does.