"What that sound?"

You freeze. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic trapped bird in your chest. "What sound?" you ask, injecting just enough confused innocence into your tone. "I'm just here at the office. The AC is probably kicking on. You know how it groans."

You give Peta's clit a sharp slap with the phone screen. Her response is a choked whimper that she tries to muffle by burying her face in your shoulder.

"No, not that," Ava says, her brow furrowed with concentration, you can hear it in her voice. "It sounded... wet. Like... like someone sloshing in a puddle."

Your mind races. Pools. Mops. Janitors. "It's the cleaning crew," you blurt out, the lie coming a little too fast. "They must be mopping the hallway. The doors are thin here, you know that."

"I guess..." Ava says, but she doesn't sound convinced. She's quiet for a moment, the silence stretching into an eternity. Then, with forced brightness, she adds, "Well, I'll let you go! Don't work too hard. I love you."

"Love you too, babe," you say, and tap the end call button before she can say anything else.

The line goes dead. You toss the phone onto your desk. It lands with a sticky, wet thud.

Peta starts to laugh, a low, breathless, triumphant sound. "She heard," she says, her eyes glittering. "She totally heard."

"She didn't hear shit," you growl, but there's no conviction in your voice. The fear, sharp and sour, is already creeping back in, replacing the adrenaline. You just lied to your wife's face while another woman used her picture to get off. You're playing with fire, and you can feel the heat singeing your eyebrows.

"Doesn't matter," Peta purrs, sliding off the desk and sinking to her knees in front of you. She takes your phone, wipes her own cum from the screen with her thumb, and then holds it up, showing you the cracked picture of Ava's smiling, oblivious face. "Ava is such dumb bitch."

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