Misdirection

“I want her to think she’s in charge at first,” Mia says.

Adam waits.

“I want the tone. The bitchiness. That little smile she does when she talks to me like I’m slow. Let her walk in here as the woman who’s going to teach me how to take my husband’s cock. Let her talk down to me. Let her look at you like you’re a demonstration model she already knows how to operate.”

His mouth curves, not kindly.

“For a while,” Mia says. “Not the whole night. Long enough that she gets comfortable being the expert. Long enough that she thinks this is her doing us a favor.”

“And then?”

“Then you turn it.” Mia’s fingers hook in his shirt. “I want you to break her. Not in a way she can laugh off in the office tomorrow. I want her on her back in our bed understanding she is not teaching anyone. She is a toy. I want her to know I am better than her. Wife. House. You. The cock she bragged about taking. All of it sits above her. She sits under it.”

Adam nods once.

“I can do that.”

“I know you can.” Mia looks at the clock. “Let her perform. Then put her in her place.”

“When I turn it, I don’t stop because she gets quiet.”

“When you turn it,” Mia says, “you don’t stop until she knows who she is in this room.”

He kisses her, brief and hard.

They eat a quick dinner standing at the counter. Leftovers. No ceremony. Mia keeps glancing at the time. Adam keeps glancing at the door. The address is already in Remy’s phone. The photo of his cock is already in Remy’s head.

At 7:41 Mia puts the plates in the sink.

At 7:52 Adam rolls his sleeves.

At 7:58 they look at each other, and the plan is simple enough to hold.

Let Remy be a bitch.

Then take that apart.

Eight o’clock approaches.