Saturday

It's time to do the shopping for the weekend. As always, I make a list and ask Thomas what he wants.

“Better ask Dirk,” he says casually, without looking up.

Dirk jumps at the chance, doesn't hesitate for a second. "I'll just come with you, Jessica. We'll decide what to get on the spot at the store. Then I can help carry the bags—and you, Thomas, can finally get some peace and quiet. You deserve it after such a stressful week.“

He looks at me, his gaze captivating. He addresses Thomas. “Unless you have a problem with me going shopping alone with your wife.”

Thomas laughs. For my ears, it sounds too loud, too naive. “I have faith in you. Nothing inappropriate will happen.”

I **** myself to smile. Something about the way Dirks looks at me makes me nervous, without me being able to say exactly what it is.

There is a tension between us during the ride that is almost palpable. The radio is playing softly, some song about great love.

I think I can feel his gaze on me, even though he is looking out the side window. My fingers grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. I keep glancing over at him.

“You're so quiet,” he finally says.

I snort in irritation. “I'm concentrating on the traffic.”

He smiles. “Do that. I don't want to distract you.”

His voice sounds calm. Do I hear a threat in that? Or am I just being paranoid?

I want to retort—but at that moment, a car comes from the right. I spot it too late. A moment of terror. I slam on the brakes, the tires squeal, my heart races.

“Are you crazy?” I yell after the unknown driver, but I'm really yelling at myself.

Seconds of silence.

I breathe heavily, feel sweat running down my neck.

“Everything okay?” Dirk asks quietly.

“No.” I park at the side of the road, the engine still running. “This won’t work. You have to leave. Today.”

He raises his hands. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Yes, you have. You’re driving me crazy.”

His voice softens, becomes whispering. “Then let's talk to Thomas, okay? He should have a say in this.”

I turn to him. “To Thomas?” My eyes widen. That's impossible. What am I supposed to tell my husband, why I want to get rid of his best friend? No, I don't want to get rid of him: I have to get rid of him.

Before I realize what he's up to, he leans toward me—slowly, gently.

I might pull away. Instead, I breathe in his scent deeply. Close my eyes.

Our lips touch.

Mmm! I lean into his caress.

A hand rests on the back of my head. I hear the swishing of a zipper.

Dirk breaks the kiss and pushes my head down.

Startled, I open my eyes. Right in front of me is his upright cock.

No! I resist. He is much stronger. He continues to push ruthlessly.

The glans slips between my lips.

Deeper.

It slides over my tongue. Sour. Bitter.

Deeper.

It touches my throat. I gag, can't breathe.

Dirk holds me tight. I don't know for how long.

Up. Finally. I greedily suck in oxygen.

Down.

My protest is stifled.

He moves my head with both hands as he pleases. Fast, slow, deep, shallow, he fucks my face.

At the side of the road. In the car.

I can only hope that there are no passers-by nearby watching us. I would die of shame.

A shadow moves across the window.