Sam dissolved into giggles from the visual. “That might give a girl body image issues.”

“But it’d make my man-business look huge.”

“Then tiny. Then huge, then tiny,” she teased, imagining the effect.

Bern cracked up, and had this been a regular date, it would have been the moment when Sam thought, I could really fall for this guy. As it was, it was the moment she relaxed in her mission and trusted her desires, and set her worries free for good.

“Okay, no fun-house mirrors,” Bern said. “Oh hey, you guys should invest in a one-way mirror, if you get good at this cuckolding thing. No more peering through door cracks.”

“Oh yeah, that’d be awesome to explain to a contractor when it goes in. Or our landlord.”

He made a disappointed face. “All the more reason to become homeowners.”

They chatted for a long time, long enough for Sam to have a second glass of wine and for Bern to finish nursing his one beer. Around seven she got change from the bartender and wandered to the jukebox, downloading the signal song from the digital catalog.

She had to wait through a few queued tracks, but when the synth of that familiar opening pulsed through the speakers, it felt as though all the lightbulbs turned red, the thermostat cranked to ninety. Somewhere by the door, Mike would be leaving bills on his table, heading out into the cool night air, climbing into her Focus, and taking the short way home.

Sam smiled as the song wound down, and Bern looked to be suppressing his own grin when she shrugged into her jacket and shouldered her purse. He held the door for her as they left.

“We should take a long route,” she said.

“Sure.” He unlocked her side of his truck’s cab. “Just get me pointed in the general direction.”

She told him the street and glanced around his vehicle as he got them on their way. Pretty tidy, though clearly he worked out of this truck. There were papers and bits of hardware scattered here and there, and a parking pass with the logo of a renovation company dangling from the rearview mirror.

It was a quiet drive. Not an uncomfortable silence, but pensive.

The curtain was about to go up, and they were two actors, holding their breath in anticipation of their opening night. Sam wanted to please her audience. She and Mike had settled on another signal, for when the actual show was under way. If the plug needed to get pulled, he’d simply flush the toilet. That was Bern’s cue to get his pants on and get the hell out, and Sam’s cue to start panicking over whether she and Mike had irreparably damaged their marriage.

She hoped she’d be able to enjoy whatever Bern had to offer without her ears being perked, straining for the swirling sounds of red alert, abort, abort. Her own excitement felt skittish – hopeful but hesitant. It was one thing to get turned on kissing a good-looking stranger in a bar. Who knew if she’d feel any of that once they were in Sam and Mike’s bedroom. In their bed. Christ, she hoped she would. This was starting to feel as though maybe it could be for her as much as it was for Mike. She’d gotten into it, eager to blow his mind. But since she’d kissed the man currently sitting just to her left, she’d started to think maybe she could go there, and as more than just a wildly indulgent partner. As a plain old red-blooded woman, too.

The silence began to feel heavy. She reminded herself of her role. Tonight she was a selfish, heartless, dissatisfied wife, and Bern was the man she’d chosen to bring home and have some much-needed fun with. She reached across the cup holders and set her hand on his thigh. He cast her a quick glance, swallowed, and smiled as he looked back to the road. She gave his leg a squeeze, liking the flex of his muscle as he switched between the gas and brake, the authoritative movements of his arm as he shifted gears. Was it just her, or did he seem to be driving a bit quicker all of a sudden?

In a heartbeat, Bern yanked up the curtains and flung them headfirst into their script. “And you’re sure he’s gone out?”

She fell into the game easily after all these months of practice. “He won’t be home for a couple of hours, at least.”

“Great.”

Her palm grew damp from the heat of his thigh, the truck’s cab at once smaller and warmer. She felt guilty flirting with Bern without Mike there to witness it… but it was all in the service of the performance, so she tried to set the guilt aside.

Dear God, how did people manage to actually cheat on each other?

Think about sex, she ordered herself. She stole a long glance at Bern, his profile stern with concentration as he drove… or stern with the effort of not steering them off the road, if her hand was proving a distraction. What might Mike be hoping to see them do tonight?

A big deal had to be made of Bern’s cock. That was a given. His sexual superiority was at the heart of the scene, so she’d be praising him profusely, for both his physical attributes and his skills at making her feel good. Was she allowed to give him tips or instructions, Sam wondered, or was he meant to just be naturally perfect at everything?

Or was she supposed to fake it and act like he was utterly amazing, even if he wasn’t?

They reached Sam’s block just as the last of the daylight faded. He parked right between her Focus and Mike’s PBP sedan, apropos of everything. Sam’s heels were loud on the sidewalk. Their bedroom faced the street, and it took all her effort not to glance up and check if Mike was watching from the window. She came within a breath of taking Bern’s hand before she realized what a scandal it would look like to a neighbor, and wrapped her fingers tightly around her purse strap.

She was steps, seconds, breaths from changing the shape of her and Mike’s sex life, forever. Whatever happened tonight, for better or worse, their marriage would never look quite the same.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sam’s heart was pounding, thumping like a bass drum as she led Bern up the front steps. Her keys jingled as she fumbled with the lock, but she shot Bern a look of well-faked mischief just before pushing in the door.

She switched on the light and he looked around. Originally she’d hoped first and second bases could go down in the living room. It seemed a fitting setting, the bedroom such a bold leap. But there was no good place for Mike to conceal himself downstairs, and in the bedroom there was both the closet and the bathroom.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Beer or wine?”

“Are you having anything?”

“I might have a splash of wine.”

“I’ll have the same, thanks.”

She led him down the hall, and he wandered around the living room, inspecting the book and DVD shelves while Sam poured two small measures of merlot. He met her at the counter and they toasted with a clink, then took turns using the half bath.

“Would you like the tour?” Sam asked when Bern reappeared.

“Sure.”

“It’s short. Kitchen and living room, obviously.” She waved her arm around. They carried their glasses down the hall and up the stairs, floorboard creaking as they reached the landing. She led him past her and Mike’s room to the next door.

“This was the guest room that my husband turned into an office,” she said, waving limply at the space, as though any reminder of the man bored her to tears. “He spends more time in here than the bedroom, that’s for sure.”

“And is that the bedroom?” Bern asked, pointing.

She gave him a sly look and slipped into her seductress voice. “It is. Would you like to see it?”

“Yeah.”

She led him inside and turned on a reading lamp.

“Very nice.”

“Thank you.” Sam drained her wine and set the glass on the dresser, kicked off her heels by the door so everyone involved would be reminded how tall Bern was. Gently, she took the glass from his hand and set it beside hers, harnessing all her willpower to keep from glancing at the dark crack of the bathroom door – Mike’s peephole.