Chapter 20:The Tipping Point
710 Words
The morning sun filtered softly through the blinds, casting thin golden lines across the hardwood floor. The house was quiet. Too quiet.
Mike sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. Diana had already left for work—an early meeting at the office—and now the silence wrapped around him like a noose.
He hadn’t slept much. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Karen.
Naked.
Standing in the doorway.
Touching herself.
Watching him.
Worse still, he’d felt the pleasure—raw, unforgiving pleasure—as he took his wife while imagining someone else. He felt disgusted with himself. Ashamed. But also… hungry. The kind of hunger that reason couldn’t fix. The kind of hunger that twisted itself around your insides and whispered, You want more.
He stood up, rubbing a hand down his face, and padded quietly out of the bedroom.
The hallway felt longer than usual. Every creak of the wooden floor reminded him of her. Karen.
He found her in the kitchen.
She was leaning against the counter, dressed in a pale blue tank top and nothing else—no bra, no pants. Just the tank that barely covered her thighs and hinted at the swell of her hips. She was sipping orange juice, her lips glistening.
She didn’t flinch when he entered. She looked at him over the rim of the glass, cool and composed, as if nothing had happened last night. As if she hadn’t stood there like a siren pulling him into madness.
Mike closed the door behind him. “We need to talk.”
Karen smirked and set the glass down gently on the counter. “Do we?”
“Yes,” he said firmly, walking toward her. “What you did last night—that was insane. What if Diana had seen you? What if Liam had woken up?”
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “But she didn’t. And Liam slept like a baby.”
He gritted his teeth. “Karen, this isn’t a game.”
“No,” she said, pushing off the counter and stepping closer. “It’s not. It’s real. Just like the way you looked at me last night. Just like the way you grabbed her when I touched myself. You think I didn’t notice?”
Mike took a step back. “That’s not the point—”
Karen followed, closing the space between them. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I know you liked it, Mike. Don’t lie to me.”
He stared at her, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You put us both at risk.”
“I helped you,” she whispered, placing a hand on his chest. “You needed me. You were stuck in your head. Couldn’t get it up for her. But I reminded you of who you are. What you want. And last night—” she leaned in, lips brushing his ear— “you wanted me.”
Mike’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Karen smiled wickedly. “No, Mike. You don’t know what you’re doing. You keep pretending you can resist this… but you keep coming back.”
He stepped away, shaking his head. “I can’t do this. This has to stop.”
Karen folded her arms, c*****g her head to the side. “No, it won’t. You’ll come back. You always do.”
Mike turned to leave, but she took one step forward.
“I know where your thoughts go when you’re inside her,” she said. “You see me. You feel me. And you hate yourself for it. But you’ll be back.”
He froze in the doorway.
Karen’s voice softened, seductive and sharp like a blade wrapped in velvet:
“I know you liked it, Mike. And you know where my room is. When you need it… come for it.”
He didn’t turn around.
He didn’t have to.
Her words followed him down the hallway like footsteps echoing inside his guilt. He walked away quickly, locking himself in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face.
But the heat wouldn’t leave him.
And neither would she.
- Writer
