The Experiment - Day 22

Mark stirred in the unfamiliar bed, his eyes fluttering open in the first morning rays as he gradually awakened. The first thing that hit him was the smell – a thick, pungent aroma of tobacco smoke that hung heavy in the air.

"Julie?" Mark murmured, pushing himself up on one elbow to scan the room. He spotted her sitting on the plush couch, her back turned towards him. Her platinum blonde hair fell in disarray around her shoulders, and she was hunched over, elbows on her knees as she held a smoldering cigarette between her fingers. She appeared smaller, more **** than he had ever seen her before.

"Hey," Mark said gently, hoping to engage her in conversation. "Are you alright?"

She took a drag from the cigarette, the end glowing a fierce orange as she inhaled deeply. The smoke swirled above her, creating an dense cloud that seemed to mirror her troubled thoughts. "I don't know," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible above the faint crackling of the burning tobacco.

"Talk to me," Mark urged, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and padding across the plush carpet to join her on the couch. As he approached, he could see the tension in her body – the way her slender fingers clutched the cigarette with white-knuckled ****, the rigid set of her shoulders as though she were bracing herself for something.

"Last night..." Julie began, her voice wavering as she trailed off. She shook her head, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her.

"Last night was a mistake," Julie finally blurted out, the words bitter and heavy on her tongue. She couldn't bring herself to look at Mark, afraid of what she might see in his eyes – pity, disappointment, or worse, desire. She took another drag from her cigarette, the smoke burning her throat as she tried to suppress the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Julie," Mark started, reaching out to touch her shoulder. The contact felt electric, sending a jolt through both of them. He hesitated, his fingers hovering just above her skin, uncertain if she would welcome his touch or recoil from it. "I'm here for you, you can -"

"Right now, I just need space," Julie whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Please, Mark, just give me some time alone."

The pang of rejection hit Mark harder than he expected, but he swallowed it down and tried to put on a brave face for Julie's sake. He knew she was struggling with the weight of her own guilt, and he didn't want to add to that burden.

"Okay, if that's what you want. I didn't know you'd feel like that. I'm sorry if I... uhm, that you regret what we did. But just know that if you want to talk about it..." he trailed off, struggling to convey his support for obvious reasons. It's a strange dual role to play, being both the therapist and the source of trauma.

"Please, Mark," Julie pleaded, her voice barely audible as she took another drag from her cigarette. "Just leave me alone for now. Let's not see each other until tomorrow."

"Alright," he agreed hesitantly, his heart heavy with disappointment. As he gathered his clothes and dressed himself, he couldn't help but glance at Julie one last time, her beautiful blue eyes glistening with unshed tears.

With the door shut behind Mark, Julie's fragile composure crumbled entirely. She let out a choked sob, the painful sound echoing in the luxurious suite that suddenly felt suffocating to her. Her long platinum blonde hair was messy, and the striking blue eyes that usually sparkled with life were now dull and bloodshot.

"Why did I do it?" she murmured, her hands shaking as she clutched at her bedsheets.

As she huddled on the edge of her bed, her tears flowed freely. Julie couldn't stop berating herself for cheating on her husband and risking the future of their family. It was too much to bear, and she remained in her room for the entire day, not using her leave time for the first time during this experiment.

"George is everything to me," she whispered through her sobs, looking at the picture of her family that sat on the bedside table. "How could I have done this to him?"

She thought back to all the times she'd had the opportunity to cheat on George, but never even came close. There was that one time when her regional manager, a quite handsome guy, had hit on her, suggesting that she could be promoted to branch manager if only she'd give herself to him for one night. But she had refused him without hesitation, confident in her loyalty to her husband.

"Yet here I am," she muttered, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "I didn't just cheat – I seduced Mark. I made the first move."

Julie was dumbfounded by her own lack of restraint. She questioned how she had reached this point, and then it dawned on her - it all began with giving in to smoking. It was some time during the first week - she wasn't keeping track of time anymore - when she smoked an extra one, and from there her thoughts started to turn towards this reckless and deprave behaviour. And yesterday was just the tip of the iceberg.

"God, what have I become?" she asked herself, her voice barely audible as she stared at the ceiling. The guilt gnawed at her insides, leaving her feeling hollow and empty. Mark's words echoed through her shattered self, resurfacing on her lips. "Passions either set us free or they destroy us..."

As the day wore on, Julie's tears slowly subsided, but the weight of her actions remained. She knew that she couldn't undo what had happened, nor could she predict the consequences it would bring. But one thing was certain – she had to face the reality of what she had done, no matter how painful it might be.

"Maybe...maybe I can make this right," she thought, her resolve slowly starting to strengthen. "I owe it to George, and to myself."

In the late afternoon, as Julie ashed her cigarette, she became aware of the numerous butts overflowing in the ashtray. With each inhale, she had felt a temporary reprieve from the grief that enveloped her; with every exhale, a small piece of her sorrow seemed to dissipate into the air.

"God, how many have I smoked today?" she mumbled to herself, glancing at the cluttered ashtray. A wave of self-disgust washed over her, realizing how much she had relied on the vice to keep herself together.

"Maybe I need something stronger…" The thought crossed her mind, and she rose from the couch, her legs shaky from sitting for so long. Julie made her way to the luxurious bar in the corner of the suite, eyeing the array of bottles with both trepidation and curiosity.

She poured herself a shot, hesitating only briefly before downing it. The liquid fire burned her throat, but she welcomed the sensation, embracing any distraction from the crushing guilt that still lingered.

"Okay, one more," she said to herself, pouring and quickly drinking a second shot. She moved on to a premium French red wine, filling the large crystal glass almost to the top. She welcomed the smooth taste after the harshness of the vodka.

As the **** began to work its magic, Julie's heart felt lighter, the depression that had gripped her since morning starting to loosen its hold. She leaned against the bar, contemplating her predicament.

"I've got to find a way to fix this," she thought, her mind racing with possibilities. "I just need to figure out how."

"Or maybe," a darker thought crept in, "this is just who I am now." She shook her head, trying to dispel the unwanted musings. "No, I can't think like that. I have to make this right."

Julie took another sip of wine, savoring the taste and the momentary respite it offered from the turmoil within. For now, she clung to the hope that perhaps not all was lost – that she could still find redemption and forgiveness, even if it seemed a distant dream.

"George, I'm so sorry. I fucked up big time," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she stared at the empty glass in her hand.

Julie stumbled slightly as she walked across the room to get a fresh cigarette pack, her head swimming from the **** she'd consumed. It was curious how much **** affected her, probably due to the **** state she was already in. Her eyes caught sight of a full-length mirror on the wall, and she found herself unable to look away from her reflection.

"Look at you," she mumbled to herself, staring into the eyes of her doppelgänger. "What have you become?"

"Isn't it obvious?" her reflection replied, smirking wickedly. "You've finally let go, embraced your desires. You know how good it felt last night."

"Shut up," Julie hissed, her cheeks flushing with anger and shame. "That was a mistake, one I'll never make again."

"Really?" the reflection challenged, raising an eyebrow. "You can honestly say you don't want him again? That you didn't feel more alive than ever before when he fucked you?"

Julie clenched her fists, biting her lip in an attempt to suppress the truth. But deep down, she couldn't deny it. It had felt amazing.

"Fine," she admitted through gritted teeth. "It was incredible. But that doesn't mean I should keep doing it. I have a family. A husband who loves me."

"Sure," her reflection said sarcastically, "but think about everything the rest of this experiment offers you. A week of unbridled pleasure, exploring every dark fantasy you've ever had. You could have it all, right here, right now."

As her reflection spoke, Julie found herself lighting another cigarette, her body betraying her as she took a long, slow drag. She exhaled, watching her reflection do the same, the smoke curling around her seductively. The blonde hottie in the mirror was starting to make sense, her reasoning was so... tempting and arousing.

"Are you really willing to give up that sort of freedom just to mop around for a whole week, lamenting for your boring, mundane existence?" The reflection taunted her, languidly blowing a stream of smoke towards the glass. Julie watched as the smoky tendrils danced between them, an ethereal symbol of the looming decision.

"But George..." Julie began, feeling her resolve crumble under the weight of her own desires. The image of her husband's face was fading, replaced by Mark's strong jawline and smoldering eyes.

"He won't know," her reflection interrupted dismissively. "It's one week, seven days of indulgence that he'll never find out about."

She was at a crossroads; she could either take the high road and endure another boring week or take the low road and embrace this darker, more sinful part of herself.

Her fingers trembled as she brought the cigarette to her lips once more, taking another long drag. The nicotine calmed her nerves momentarily, but it did nothing to clear the fog clouding her judgment.

The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like her reflection had a point. What if this was just what she needed? A final week of escape from the stress of motherhood and marriage, a chance to let loose and explore her deepest desires without any judgment or repercussions? She already did it once, after all.

She let out a bitter laugh as she stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray. "What kind of woman am I?" she muttered to herself. But her reflection simply smirked back at her, blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "You're a woman with needs, Julie. Needs that went unfulfilled for quite some time, until last night." It taunted, watching as Julie's cheeks flushed at the memory.

"Oh, we're at the crux of it, right? After 10 years of marriage things got a bit bland, naturally, and fucking another guy was just the excitement you needed, didn't you?" The reflection wasn't asking anymore. It was provoking her with the truth, and Julie felt herself grow wet at the memory of Mark's cock spreading her walls apart.

Her hand moved of its own accord, tracing a path down her stomach and slipping beneath the waistband of her shorts. As she touched herself, she let out a gasp, taken aback by how responsive she was. Her reflection winked back at her from the mirror as she plunged a finger into herself, remembering the way Mark had made her feel.

Etching the scenes from yesterday into her mind, she moved her fingers faster against herself. She felt her body react instantly to every single touch as if it were Mark's hands that were on her again. Her breath hitched as she pinched and twisted her nipple with one hand.

His name tasted like sin on her lips as she moaned it out loud to the empty room. She looked at herself in the mirror - flushed face, messy hair and bitten lips that mirrored pleasure etched over them - a sight of her passionate self.

Julie lay on the carpet floor, her body trembling with pleasure as she pleasured herself. The reflection in the mirror watched, a sly smile playing across its lips.

"You like that, don't you?" it purred, its voice seductive and alluring. "You can't resist being me."

Julie moaned in response, lost in the intense pleasure coursing through her body. But the reflection wasn't finished yet.

"I know what you want," it continued, its tone becoming more insistent. "You want more, don't you? You want to completely give yourself over to me."

Julie's eyes widened at the words, feeling both excited and afraid of what was happening. But she couldn't stop now.

"Yes," she gasped out, her voice filled with desire. "I want more."

The reflection laughed triumphantly, its hold on Julie growing stronger. And as Julie lost herself completely to the reflection's control, she knew there was no turning back from this new form of ecstasy.

"Give in Julie," it urged, "You know you want to. After all, you've already crossed the line."

"Fuck it," Julie whispered, reaching for the dildo she had hidden in a drawer. With a trembling hand, she pressed it against her slick, aching pussy, unable to look away from her reflection as she slid it inside herself.

"God, yes," she moaned, thrusting the toy in and out of her pussy with increasing fervor. Her reflection grinned as Julie fucked herself harder and faster, lost in the depravity of the moment.

"Imagine Mark watching you do this," her reflection whispered. "Think about how badly he'd want you, knowing what a filthy slut you've become."

The thought pushed Julie over the edge, her body convulsing with pleasure as she came violently, her juices spraying across the mirror, symbolically marking her submission to this wicked lust.

"Fuck," she gasped, collapsing onto the floor, her body heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She closed her eyes tightly, not daring to look at her reflection any longer. The line had been crossed, and there was no turning back now.

Julie lay there on the soft floor, her body trembling from pleasure and shame. The room was eerily quiet, except for faint sound of her own breathing. She looked at the mirror, now covered with a shameful reminder of her lustful actions, and felt disgust creeping through her veins.

"God, what is wrong with me?" she whispered to herself, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of how she could have let herself sink so low as to talk to her own reflection and even masturbate to it. The thought that she might need mental help crossed her mind, only adding more weight to the guilt already pressing down on her chest.

"Am I going crazy?" Julie muttered, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulled herself off the floor and stumbled toward the bed.

As she lay in bed, her gaze drifted to the mirror above. She quickly averted her eyes, unable to face her own reflection. Grabbing a pillow and blanket, she made the decision to spend the night on the couch instead. She also covered the large wall mirror with a spare sheet, wanting to avoid any more haunting reflections that seemed to mock her sanity. "Fuck," she whispered, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. "I can't keep doing this. I'll stop thinking about it, explain my decision to Mark tomorrow, and get my shit together."

Her thoughts were riddled with the grief over her actions from the night before, but what disturbed her even more what she feeling - and doing - moments ago. It was crazy, fucked up and probably fit for a psychiatric ward.

She decided to ignore the seductive pull of her twisted desires to lose herself in this thrill of the forbidden. She hated herself for having them, and deep down, she knew that the excitement she felt was dangerously appealing.

She turned restlessly in bed, unable to find any comfort or peace with her conflicting emotions. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and Julie fell into a restless sleep, her mind plagued with dreams of Mark's touch and the seductive whispers of her wild reflection.