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Life had become so hectic recently, Max was up for a big promotion and he’d been working longer and longer hours at the office. Sometimes he didn’t get back home until late, organising business strategies or preparing sales pitches for new, important Belgian clients. Rhiannon knew that she was being selfish, but she couldn’t help it—she thought back to the early days of their marriage when they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. They’d only been married three years but already their original chemistry and romantic sex seemed to have become side-lined as they struggled to manage the demands of their busy lives.

She’d been thinking of the way that she used to wear the sluttiest lingerie she could find—of the thrill she used to get from his fingers stroking the top of her thighs and teasingly playing with her stocking tops as they sat together on the sofa. It hadn’t taken her long before she’d straddle him, riding him hard while the TV blared, forgotten in the background.

Rhiannon ached to rekindle the raw desire of those early days and vowed that tonight would be the night. He wasn’t just going to come in, collapse on the sofa and fall asleep—she was going to seduce him and make him rediscover the way he used to need her, the urgent way they used to fuck.

It was seven o’clock before she finally heard his car pull up outside. Rhiannon had been longing for this moment, waiting for him at home alone all afternoon. She was on her two weeks’ annual leave from work and had spent all day thinking about him, about the hotwife sex she was dying to put out on. She’d planned a surprise show for him, something she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. The sound of the door opening and car keys jangling onto the hall table sent a rush through her.

After a moment, her heart racing, she steadied her voice and called, “I’m in the living room!”