The next day, I saw Mr. Hayes again. He introduced himself properly this time—his name was Alexander Hayes.

His son, Noah Hayes, was in good spirits today.

I knelt on the mat and continued his stretching exercises. As I leaned forward, the lapels of my white coat fell open. The sweat-soaked sports vest beneath clung to my chest like a second skin, the fabric so thin you could make out the contours of my areolas.

"Relax. That's it. Easy does it..."

I was focused on adjusting the child's position when I looked up and met Alexander's eyes.

He sat on the mat nearby, a book in his hands that hadn't seen a page turn in far too long. His gaze had settled on my open collar. Motionless.

When our eyes met, he didn't look away. His Adam's apple moved. The knuckles holding his book's spine went white.

Heat crept up my cheeks. I tugged at my lapel. "Mr. Hayes. Is that book any good?"

There was a pause, then he flashed a smile. "Not really." His eyes still hadn't moved.

When the session ended, the caretaker took Noah for his assessment.

I headed to the storage room for new resistance bands. I'd just found them under the mirror when a solid body pressed against me from behind.

The heat of a grown man ignited something restless in my body instantly. I gripped the mirror for support.

"Mr. Hayes." I watched his reflection. "This is the storage room."

His voice was low, his breathing uneven. "I know. Dr. Bennett—was that on purpose earlier?"

I didn't know how to answer.

My silence gave him permission. His lips, hot and urgent, found my neck. His hands began to wander.

With him behind me, holding me, my body went liquid. I let him touch.

It had been too long. My body remembered what it had been missing. Too sensitive. Too ready. Already slick and wanting, wetness began to trail down my thigh.

Alexander's movements grew bolder. One hand cupped my breasts—full and heavy. The other ventured lower, exploring what was hidden.

"You're so responsive."

He withdrew his hand and held it before me, two fingers glistening with proof of my desire. A thin thread stretched between them.

"Dr. Bennett. Is your body always this eager?" He held the strand up, showing me just how far it would stretch.

He tugged my white coat off, leaving me in nothing but that thin athletic wear—even less substantial than last time. More transparent too.

He gripped my head, turning it toward him. His tongue pushed past my lips without preamble.

The hardness of him pressed harder against my lower back with every fierce moment of that kiss. Like iron. His hands grew rougher. When his tongue finally withdrew, a moan escaped me before I could stop it.

"Mmm... no..."

He watched my reflection. His eyes seemed to burn right through me. The sports bra was completely soaked now, plastered to my skin. Transparent. What it concealed, it only teased.

The woman in the mirror was a wreck. Slick with desire. A man wrapped himself around her from behind, fingers working their magic, each movement drawing a tremor from her body.

I watched, legs trembling, mind blank.

The evidence of my arousal kept coming, hot and slick down my thighs. Alexander noticed. He freed himself, slid his length between my legs, slick with my wetness. Each pass made an obscene, wet sound.

His urgency stole my breath. My body began to move with him. I could feel him swelling between my thighs, growing more impressive by the second. If that could be inside me... the thought alone...

Years of unfulfilled nights made every cell in my body scream for it. But—

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting through the gasps and moans. "I... I have a husband, Mr. Hayes..."

He thrust forward suddenly, his member sliding over my most sensitive spot, cutting my words into a gasp.

"Hm? You don't want this?"

I watched his reflection smile. He already knew he'd won.

"But your body doesn't lie. Look..."

His hand was slick with my wetness. The evidence of his arousal still moved between my thighs. Proof that my body said yes even when my mouth couldn't.

I had no words. Couldn't form them anyway.

Wave after wave of pleasure eroded what was left of my restraint. Thinking was a luxury I couldn't afford.

He pressed my head down. I braced myself against the mirror. He hooked my shorts aside, spread my legs, and positioned himself at my entrance.

I tried to mumble a refusal, but my body was growing limp. Alexander didn't rush to enter me—instead, he began with slow friction on the outside, then used two fingers to massage the sensitive nub below.

My arousal was building. Jason hadn't touched me in so long, and my body's craving had grown fierce.

His movements were experienced and skillful. Even before penetration, I felt light-headed with pleasure. Wave after wave of sensation washed through my brain, and just as I felt the head of him parting my lower lips, reason snapped me back to reality. I pushed away his length, shoving him back.

"I'm sorry, Alexander. I'm a married woman. Even if things aren't good between us right now, we're still husband and wife in name. I can't do this."

My resolve moved him. He dressed again, stepped back, and pulled open the storage room door. Light streamed through the gap as he stood silhouetted in it. "Will you still continue Noah's training?" he asked.

I looked down silently. He closed the door and left me there in the storage room, clutching the nearby glass, my legs so weak I could barely stand.

'What have I done?'

When I got home, Jason's face showed his displeasure. He wrapped his arms around me from behind. "Soph, I want you."

Without preamble, he freed himself and pushed directly inside. Thanks to what happened this afternoon, I was still moist enough to let him enter easily.

But even as I performed the most intimate act with Jason, it failed to give me that special feeling. He was noticeably smaller than Alexander, his movements mechanical and dull—nothing like the electrifying sensation of Alexander's tip pressing against my entrance.

Still, to please him, I moaned wantonly, giving him some pleasure. He spilled inside me quickly, then ended tonight's exercise. No foreplay, no intimacy—as if he'd simply needed to vent his desires.

After he finished, I showered. When I came out, Jason was already asleep.

Something had shifted after that day. Alexander and I still met normally—no more inappropriate touching—but our interactions felt different from ordinary acquaintance.

Noah still came for rehabilitation on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and his condition was gradually improving. Alexander would sit in the lobby waiting.

The change manifested itself in a thong.

A black thong with red patterns, neatly folded in my underwear drawer. I picked it up, examining it. The size matched mine, but I hadn't purchased it—I kept myself merely trimmed, not fully bare, and a thong would inevitably expose stray tendrils.

Maybe Jason bought it for me, I told myself. But something felt wrong.