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them.
    The fantasy heightened when she imagined Michael standing to the side, watching. Not watching in a jealous rage, but with interest, his hand fumbling in his pants for his cock as she was used. The orgasm that followed caused her to shudder and rise off the bed.
    She rolled to her side and let out a long breath. What the fuck? It was screwed up enough that she’d masturbated while thinking about Anton and the doctor, but why the hell had she brought her husband into it?

    Tuesday came out of nowhere. After Michael left for work, Vivian took two showers and a bath. She tried on five different outfits, finally shaking herself back into reality. This isn’t a date. I’m going to this fucker to be abused so he won’t humiliate me by sharing a video with Michael that will have me tossed out on the street without a penny.
    Despite the self-talk, she felt the familiar flutter in her stomach as she dressed in something sexier than she usually wore in the afternoon. She’d been bargaining with herself since nine o’clock that morning.
    Beyond the morality of the situation, the only choice left was if she would let him break her and make her his victim. She’d decided she wouldn’t. She’d already felt guilt and shame, as if she were both being molested and cheating at the same time.
    She had to pick one of those feelings and go with it. So she picked cheating. As she gazed into the mirror, some part of her knowing she’d disconnected from reality to embrace an easier fantasy, she thought of this as dressing for her lover. She pulled her skirt down over her garter belt and stockings and slipped into a pair of fuck-me pumps.
    She applied a translucent cherry-colored lip gloss to her lips and mascara to her lashes. Having convinced herself she was having an affair of her own free will, she snapped her purse shut with the lip gloss and her wallet inside, then went to Dome to see Anton.
    The spa was crowded when she arrived. A flush crept up her neck at the idea of biting back moans behind one of those doors while women and the occasional man sat in the waiting area flipping through magazines.
    Janette was at the front desk with a friendly smile on her face. Could the woman know what went on behind the door in Anton’s little room? You’re being ridiculous. Of course she doesn’t know.
    “Hi, Mrs. Delaney. You’re scheduled with Anton in fifteen minutes. That’ll be two hundred and twenty-five dollars.”
    A bit of the color drained back out of her face. She was paying him? To molest her? She covered her surprise with a manufactured coughing fit.
    In response, Janette placed a bottle of imported spring water on the counter. It was cold from the mini-fridge under the desk. Vivian forced a smile, twisted off the cap, and drank. When she was finished, she pulled out her checkbook and wrote the check, her signature feeling like a pact with Satan.
    A buzzer sounded and Janette picked up the phone, speaking in hushed tones. When she hung up she handed Vivian a receipt.
    “That was Anton. He’s running a little late with another client and said you should go to the restaurant and have a complimentary sandwich or soup. Whatever you like.”
    Vivian nodded numbly, with the weird, fake smile plastered to her face. She wondered if Anton had someone else in the room like her. Someone he touched against her will. Someone else he had some nasty artificial blackmail on.
    It was too late for lunch but too early for dinner, and only a few tables were occupied in the spa restaurant. She wasn’t terribly hungry, but she allowed them to seat her anyway, considering it a better alternative to remaining in the waiting room while her nerves became more frayed.
    The restaurant was encased in glass, allowing bright sunlight to filter in from everywhere. Towering palms and ferns lined the walls, giving the sense of being outdoors in a lush jungle. A lush jungle that just happened to have a restaurant sitting in the middle of it.
    “Madame,