Darren bought this robe for me on our third wedding anniversary. He’d saved up for six months. I told him it was too much money for something so thin and fragile and short. But the way he’d fucked me that night, the silk skimming over our bodies like a soft caress contrasting with his strong fist in my hair, was the kind of memory that made this gift more consequential every time I slipped it over my shoulders.

Jourdan kicks off her shoes and turns to me, a smile forming on her face as she sees what I’m wearing, however small. “Oh,” she breathes.

“Oh,” I breathe in response.

I move my arms and let her see me. Her smile widens when I expose the outline of my breasts. The hunger in her eyes looks so much like Darren’s.

“You know why he sent me here, then?” she asks, reaching out to touch the belt of my robe. I imagine her tugging on it, exposing me, and I want that.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“And how do you feel about that?” She pulls the tie taut but not hard enough to untie it. She’s teasing me. I know she’s teased Darren like this, and I know what it did to him.

“He always knows exactly what I need?” That makes her smile. “How do you feel about him sending you here?” I ask nervously.

She tips her head to the right and smiles. “I skipped out of the office this afternoon like I was going to Disneyland,” she says and then finally pulls my belt loose.

first time

The first time Darren and I did more than kiss was after the homecoming game our sophomore year in college. We don’t like football, but we tagged along with our friends to a party after our team beat their cross-city rivals. We were there for the free liquor and something to do on a Saturday night. We lost track of our friends almost as soon as the jungle juice started to loosen our limbs and inhibitions.