Except, there was one thing. He could find out why she was doing this.

On the Sunday afternoon – after a day and a half of playing butler – he approached her cautiously. She was wearing her nightie, her bare legs crossed, the fabric open in a slit to show a glimpse of her chest. Scott fought his instincts, as his body told him to go to her, to hold her, to be with her.

“Casey.” He felt like a kid in one of his classes, asking to go to the toilet. “I was wondering if I could go to the pub with Gary. I won’t be long.”

It felt so natural, asking her permission. Too natural. It shouldn’t be that way. He was tightening the collar around his own throat, but he didn’t know how else to behave around her. Not anymore. He’d thought he found a caring gentle person, but she was cutting him, just by staring. In the way she smiled.

Widely, she grinned a moment longer before speaking. “Why?”

“Because he’s my friend. Because we arranged to go. He might get suspicious if I cancel.”

“Hardly. People cancel all the time. Tell him you’re busy raping one of your students.”

Scott stared at her. She spoke so casually. And worse still was the visceral reality of her words, as though she’d forced the image into his head. He’d rather die, rather kill than even think about doing that. Such a sick thing had never even occurred to him; she was bluntly invading his mind.

Even now, he wondered. This wasn’t how Casey talked.

But she was gone. Casey would never say that, not his wife.

Giggling, she waved a hand. “Don’t be so serious. It was only a joke.”

“Please.”

“Are you begging?”

He wanted to tell her no, but his tone had become wheedling. He hated it. “I just want to–”

“Beg, and I’ll let you go.” She sat up, her dressing gown falling aside to reveal one of her breasts. Scott’s body betrayed him, as though it hadn’t yet learned what his mind knew. She laughed and pulled the dressing gown down completely, her other breast spilling free. “You’re a sick bastard, you know that? You still want me now?”

“No,” he snapped.

“So, are you going to beg?”

“Please–”

“Beg or you’ll never see Gary again. I’ll make sure of it. On your knees. Chop-chop.”

Scott needed to see his best friend. Not only did he want to talk to somebody – Gary had always been there for him – but he simply couldn’t stay here. Every time he brought her a drink, every time she threw a casual cruel comment at him, he felt little pieces of himself being chipped away.

He tried not to think about what he was doing as he lowered himself to his knees. “Please, Casey.”

“More,” she whispered.

“Please let me go to the pub.”

“Again.”

“Please let me see my friend.”