A new assignment

“I’ve been assigned abroad,” Mia says.

Adam turns the stove off.

“Six months. A project. They want me on a plane tomorrow. It’s already booked. I don’t get to argue it.”

The kitchen goes quiet. The first is tomorrow. Lana’s girl is already confirmed. Remy’s desk will be empty of Mia by Monday. Danielle is a rule in a drawer.

Adam crosses the kitchen and pulls her in.

They stand there the way married people stand when the news is not a fight. Her face in his shirt. His hand in her hair. No speech. Just the weight of six months and a flight that does not care about their nights.

“Okay,” he says into her hair. “We'll get through the six months. I’ll call Lana and cancel.”

Mia pulls back.

“Don’t cancel.”

He looks at her.

“Mia?”

“You don’t need to cancel just because I won’t be here. She already knows. Lana already has her. The first is the first. Don’t waste it because I’m on a plane.”

“You wanted to watch.”

“I still want to,” she says. “I also don’t want your cock denied the pleasure because I have a project. Go ahead. Fuck her. Use her. Do the night. I’m not taking that away from you so I can feel noble in a hotel.”

Adam’s hand stays on her waist.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” She says it clean. “I’m sure. Without me in the room, I still want you to have it. I don’t want you sitting here denied while I’m in another country. Tomorrow happens. You fuck the girl Lana brings. That’s the decision.”

He studies her face. She does not take it back.

“Okay,” he says. “Tomorrow happens.”

Then the other loss still sits in her mouth.

“I just won’t see it,” she says. “I won’t see you ruin her cunt. I won’t hear her. I won’t come home and ride you while I describe it. Six months of that, and I told you not to cancel, and I still hate that I won’t be watching.”

Adam’s jaw works. He kisses her forehead. Then he lets her go.

He picks up his phone.

Mia watches his thumbs move. He does not show her the screen. He sends something, waits, sends something else, and puts the phone face down on the counter.

“Who?”

“Later.”

“Adam?”

“I’m going to make sure you enjoy it,” he says. “You said the night happens. Wait an hour.”

She stares at him. He stares back.

They do the hour the way they do ordinary hours, except the hour has a doorbell at the end of it.

He finishes the food. She changes out of work clothes and steals his shirt anyway. They eat at the counter, knees touching. He tells her about a meeting that does not matter. She tells him the flight time.

Halfway through, Mia puts her fork down. Her foot hooks his ankle under the counter.

“I still want to see it,” she says, quieter. “Even if I’m not in the room. I still want that cock stretching a new cunt. I still want the sound. I still want you to fill her and then tell me. A hotel doesn’t change the fetish. It just puts a wall in front of it. That’s why I told you not to cancel.”

“I know.”

“So whoever you texted better be about the wall.”

“Eat,” he says again, and his mouth curves.

They clear the plates. She starts a bag on the bed and then stops, because packing makes it real. He pulls her onto the couch instead. They put on something neither of them watches. His hand stays on her thigh.

Fifty minutes. Fifty-five.

Mia checks the clock.

“If this is a joke—”

The doorbell rings.

Adam stands. Mia stays on the couch, his shirt on her, the flight in her chest, tomorrow still on.

He looks at her once before he goes to the door.

“Stay there,” he says. “You’ll see.”