No

You are too bothered by Mr. Jones's appearance to speak up before your wife manages to say. "I guess what's happening is that my father found out that John is a cuck, and he has been setting the situation up to help with his fetish."

Mr. Jones takes a step back, his laughter resonating with a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Odd, but that explains a lot." A

he says while fiddling with the engagement ring he had intended for your wife.

Amy joins in with a light-hearted laugh, her eyes dancing with a shared understanding. "Yeah, that's about it. So, what do we do now?"

Mr. Jones's expression shifts to a grimace as he considers the situation. "What now? Well, I can't say I'm thrilled about all of this, but I also can't deny that I enjoyed our time together."

Amy's face mirrors his concern as she earnestly apologizes, "I'm sorry, we didn't mean to use you."

With a sigh, Mr. Jones rubs the back of his neck, clearly caught in a dilemma."Yeah, but this does leave me in a pickle."

You're eager to put this whole ordeal behind you, but sympathy for Mr. Jones begins to creep in as you realize that Greg manipulated him just as much as he did you. You allow Amy to voice the sentiment you know your compassionate wife would express "Tell us what it is, and whatever it is we will try to help out. I promise."

You hope his request is something minor, but the way Mr. Jones paces back and forth, as he debates whether to ask you or not, you know it has to be something big. Eventually, he gathers his resolve and begins to speak, "I have this conference in Paris. There's a party afterward for me and a plus one that I signed up for." He turns to your wife, his tone tinged with irony. "I was going to ask you to accompany me after you accepted... well, my ring." He lets out a chuckle, acknowledging the twist of fate. "Now, some of my biggest potential business partners are expecting me to show up with a plus one, and I don't have one. That's not going to make a good impression.”

Amy suddenly blurted out, "I can still go," her voice trembling slightly before she whimpered, "As long as John can go too." A cold, heavy silence descended upon the room as everyone grappled with the weight of her offer. She continued, her voice steadying, "It will help us too, because John can only be intimate with me after I am with you."

A chill ran down your spine as the realization struck that you had missed your opportunity to escape this torment.

You noticed Mr. Jones discreetly slipping his engagement ring back into his right pocket before extending his hand toward you. "I think that could work then," he said, his tone measured.

Instead of the expected handshake, your wife attempted to move in for a hug, but Mr. Jones stepped back, halting her approach. "Let's stick with a handshake for now," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of unresolved tension. "I can't say that I'm completely over being shot down. So why don't you two take the limo? I'll have someone pick it up later."

Amy appeared visibly shaken by this rejection, yet she managed to grasp his hand for an awkward handshake. The discomfort lingered, no more awkward than the silent, tension-filled 45-minute drive home, with neither of you daring to break the uneasy quiet.

About halfway through the drive, Amy summoned the courage to murmur, "I am sorry it got that far." But you were too engrossed in self-reproach, mentally berating yourself for not speaking up when you had the chance to put an end to it all. All you could muster was, "Let's just not talk about it."

It took a full day before you both could engage in a proper conversation, yet even then, the events that unfolded in that grassy field were meticulously avoided, as if they were a contagious plague.

It took a full day before you two could have a full conversation, but even then, what happened in that grassy field was avoided like the plague.

Early Monday morning, Mr. Jones arrived to pick you both up. Greg had been **** to grant you the day off, but Amy declared that the only way she would go on the trip was if you accompanied her. Faced with Mr. Jones's insistence, Greg finally relented.

Mr. Jones met you on the tarmac of his private jet. "So this is how this weekend is going to go…”