The Bad Tenant Ch. 05

The Uber rolled to a stop in front of their house just before midnight. Jess stepped out, the night air cool against her bare shoulders after the artificial warmth of the car. Her heels clicked against the concrete walkway as she approached the front door.

Inside, she kicked off her heels with a groan of relief. The house was silent, empty in a way that felt different than usual because of Tom's absence.

She made her way to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, drinking it in long gulps as her mind raced through the events of the evening. The presentation had gone perfectly. The designs had been well received. Connections had been made that could advance her career significantly. By all objective measures, tonight had been a professional triumph.

And yet she could still hear Chris Webb's voice, the casual objectification, the crude speculation about her sexual preferences. She could still feel the weight of his hand on her waist during their dance, the subtle pressure as he'd suggested they continue their discussion "somewhere quieter."

In the bedroom, she unzipped the dress and let it slip down her body to pool at her feet, leaving her in just her strapless bra and thong.

Jess caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror. She turned, looking over her shoulder at her reflection, studying the curve of her ass, the smooth expanse of her back. These weren't parts of herself she'd earned solely through effort. They were accidents of genetics, gifts of arbitrary fate. Was this all they saw when they looked at her? Not her talent, not her intelligence, not her professional accomplishments, just... this?

She stared at her reflection, seeing herself through Chris Webb's crude words.

"... all I could think about was how that mouth would look wrapped around my cock."

While she'd been talking about design philosophies and material selections, he'd been imagining her on her knees.

It wasn't the first time this had happened. As a female designer, she'd grown accustomed to walking a tightrope. Be attractive enough to command attention but not so attractive that you became a distraction. Dress professionally but not boringly. Be confident but not aggressive. Show enthusiasm but don't appear desperate.

She'd navigated these contradictions for years, had learned to read the subtle shift in a client's gaze when it moved from professional assessment to personal interest. Had mastered the art of the gentle redirection, the casual mention of "my husband" dropped into conversation like a shield.

Tonight should have been different. This was her project, her moment of professional recognition. And for much of the evening, it had been. Margaret's approval, the investors' questions about her design philosophy, the respectful attention during her presentation, all of it had felt like validation of her work, not her appearance.

Until those comments. Until that dance with Chris. Until the realization that beneath the veneer of professional respect lurked the same old reduction of her worth to her physical attributes.

The hot shower couldn't wash away the memory of their words but it soothed her body. She scrubbed her skin, as if trying to remove an invisible layer of grime. The makeup came off, mascara creating dark rivers down her cheeks before swirling away down the drain.

Wrapped in her fluffy robe, Jess sat cross-legged on their bed. The clock on the nightstand read 12:47 AM. 10:47 PM in San Diego.

She needed Tom to understand, to share her outrage, to validate that this shouldn't still be happening, that her work deserved to stand on its own merits without her appearance entering the equation at all.

Her finger hovered over the call button. Part of her wanted to just text, to claim exhaustion and postpone the conversation. But she knew Tom was waiting. With a deep breath, she pressed call.

He answered on the first ring.

"Hey," Tom's voice came through, warm and eager. "There's my star designer. How was it?"

Jess leaned back against the headboard. "It was... good. The presentation went perfectly. Everyone loved the designs."

"I knew they would," Tom replied, pride evident in his voice. "How are you holding up? You must be exhausted."

"Just got out of the shower," Jess replied, running her fingers through her damp hair. "But yeah, I'm pretty wiped out. What about you? Still holed up in that hotel room?"

"Unfortunately. Room service brought me a sad excuse for a burger about an hour ago." There was a rustling sound as he presumably shifted position. "But enough about my glamorous life. Tell me everything about tonight."

She managed a small smile. "The virtual walkthrough of the master suite got an actual gasp from the audience when we revealed the bathroom's transition to the terrace."

"That was all you," Tom said. "I remember when you first sketched that concept. You were so excited."

The memory softened something in her. "Yeah, I guess I was."

"So, networking success? Any promising leads?"

Jess twisted a strand of wet hair around her finger. "A few. Margaret introduced me to some developer from New York. And there might be something in Houston with James Chen."

"Chen? The real estate mogul? Jess, that's huge!"

"Yeah, it could be," she agreed, her enthusiasm not quite matching his. "There was also talk about a boutique hotel in Savannah. Historic district."

"Sounds perfect for you," Tom said. "Your aesthetic would work so well with those old buildings."

Seconds ticked by without conversation.

"Jess?" Tom's voice shifted, concern setting in. "Everything okay? You sound... off."

"I'm just tired," she deflected. "It was a long night."

His voice softened. "Did something happen?"

Jess closed her eyes, debating how much to share. "It's nothing, really."

"Jess," Tom pressed gently. "Talk to me."

She sighed, relenting. "It's just... I overheard some things tonight. Things that weren't meant for me to hear."

"What kind of things?" Tom asked.

"Chris Webb and some of the investors," Jess began. "They were talking about me. Not about my designs or my presentation. About... me. My body."

"What did they say?"

"It's just... one of them said I was probably dynamic in bed. The other said I looked like the type who would need to be tamed" Jess's voice tightened with anger. "They were placing bets, Tom. Actually placing bets on which of them could sleep with me first."

"They were betting?" Tom's voice sounded strained. "What kind of stakes?"

"Does it even matter?" she snapped. "It was a thousand dollars. Chris said he'd win easily. Said he could tell I was the type who secretly craves a real man to put me in my place." She let out a bitter laugh. "They talked about me like I wasn't even human. Like I was just some prize to be won."

"That's gross," Tom said, but there was a strange tension in his voice. "Did they say anything else?"

Jess went silent for a moment, trying to understand his fixation on the details. "Chris said something about wanting to see my ass turning pink before bending me over his desk. They were being crude. Objectifying. He said something about..." She hesitated, the words sticking in her throat. "About how my mouth would look wrapped around his... his cock."

She waited for the explosion, the protective fury. Tom had always been quick to anger when someone disrespected her. She needed that now, his indignation, his outrage on her behalf.

It didn't come.

Instead, there was a loaded silence, punctuated only by Tom's slightly altered breathing. "What else?" Tom asked.

Jess blinked, confused by his response. "What do you mean, what else?"

"I mean, what else did they say?" Tom clarified. "About you."

Something in his tone made her pause. "They... one of them mentioned my legs. Compared them to his ex-wife, who was apparently a model." She frowned, trying to understand his reaction. "Tom, why are you asking for details? Aren't you angry?"

"Of course I'm angry," Tom replied quickly. "I'm fucking furious that they would talk about you like that. I just... I want to understand exactly what happened."

Jess's brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the disconnect between his words and his tone. "They talked about me like I was a piece of meat, Tom. It was disgusting."

"God, Jess, I'm so sorry," Tom said. "That's... that's fucking awful."

A sudden realization hit her. His reaction now, his questions about Derek, his fascination with Brandon's flirting, his excitement after Bob's photo session. The pieces formed an undeniable pattern.

"Tom," she said slowly. "Are you turned on right now?"

"What? No, I'm-"

"Don't lie to me," she cut him off. "I can hear it in your voice."

The silence that followed confirmed her suspicion more than any denial could have.

"Jesus Christ, Tom," she whispered. "You are, aren't you?"

"Jess, it's not..." He stopped himself. "It's complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it for me," she demanded, sitting up straighter. "Because from where I'm sitting, it sounds like my husband gets off on other men objectifying me."

Tom's exhale was shaky. "It's not about the objectification, Jess. I hate that they disrespected you like that. I do. But..."

"But what?"

"I don't know... just knowing that other men want you, that they fantasize about you... it reminds me how fucking lucky I am."

Jess rubbed her temple, trying to process this revelation. "Do you have any idea what it's like?" she asked. "To work so hard to be taken seriously, to try being recognized for your brain, only to have it all reduced to how you look? To have your professional accomplishment overshadowed by men thinking about what you're like in the bedroom?"

"Jess, I-"

"I've spent my entire career fighting to be seen as more than just a pretty face," she continued, the words flowing now, unchecked. "Do you know how many times I've had to prove myself?"

"Of course I know," Tom said. "I've seen it. I've watched you struggle with it."

"Have you? Because it doesn't sound like you understand at all." Her voice cracked slightly. "Tonight was supposed to be my moment, Tom. And instead, I had to listen to those men reduce me to a sexual object. And now I find out that my own husband, the one person who should see me completely, gets turned on by the same objectification that's been holding me back."

"That's not fair," Tom protested. "I'm proud of your accomplishments, Jess. I celebrate your talent and your smarts every day. This isn't about reducing you to just your body."

"Then what is it about?" Jess demanded. "Because from where I'm sitting, it feels like it."

There was a long pause before Tom spoke again. "I don't know exactly," he said finally. "But a part of it is how incredible it feels to be the one you chose when you could have anyone."

The sincerity in his voice made something in her chest twist. "But that's just it, Tom. I didn't choose you because you were the best option among a bunch of different men. I chose you because of who you are. Not because you won some competition."

"I know that," Tom said. "But there's something deeper, something almost primitive that gets triggered when I see or hear about other men wanting you."

Jess considered his words, trying to separate her feelings about tonight's experiences from this new understanding of her husband. "You've been weird about this stuff lately. With Brandon at the gym, with Derek at yoga. Even with Bob."

"I know," Tom admitted. "I've been trying to understand it myself."

"So when you asked me about Derek," she said slowly, "about him spotting me during handstands, you were imagining his hands on me. And that turned you on."

"Yes," Tom said quietly. "I guess it did."

"And hearing about Chris Webb and those investors talking about me, about what they'd like to do to me... that turns you on too."

"It's not that simple, Jess," Tom sighed. "The thought of anyone actually hurting you or disrespecting you makes me furious. But knowing that they want you, that they fantasize about you, and that you're mine regardless... yes, that affects me."

"I'm not yours, Tom," Jess said. "I'm not property. I'm your wife. Your partner."

"That's not what I meant," Tom backpedaled. "I just meant-"

"I know what you meant," Jess cut him off. "And I get it, on some level. But you have to understand how fucked up the timing of this revelation is."

The conversation stalled, each recognizing the different between their perspectives.

"Why haven't you ever mentioned this?" Jess asked.

"How exactly was I supposed to bring it up, Jess? 'Hey babe, just so you know, I get turned on when other men lust after you'? It's not exactly dinner conversation."

A slight smile crossed Jess's face despite her frustration. "Fair point."

"Besides," Tom added, "I wasn't sure how I felt. If it's normal or if it makes me some kind of fucking deviant. I'm still not sure."

"Madi says it's not uncommon," Jess offered. "Men getting aroused by other men desiring their partners... I just never thought you would be one of them"

"You discussed this with Madi?" Tom sounded surprised.

"Not exactly," Jess clarified. "She noticed how you reacted to Brandon's flirting. She had a theory."

"Of course she did," Tom said with a short laugh. "Madi has theories about everything."

The tension between them had shifted, becoming something more manageable, more familiar. Jess found herself unwinding slightly. "She called it a power thing, a way of validating their choice."

"Maybe she's right," Tom conceded.

"So what now?" Jess asked. "Where does this leave us?"

"I don't know," Tom admitted. "I'm still trying to understand it myself. But I want you to know that I see you, Jess. Your talent, your intelligence, your kindness, your drive. Not just your body. Never just your body."

Jess wanted to believe him. Mostly, she did. But the timing of this revelation, coming on the heels of tonight's crude objectification, left her feeling unsettled.

"I need time to process this," she said finally. "It's been a long night, and this is... a lot."

"I understand," Tom replied. "And I'm sorry I'm not there with you. I should be."

"Yeah," Jess agreed softly. "You should be."

A deep sigh escaped Tom's lips. "Listen, I should be landing in Austin around 9 tomorrow. I'll be out by 9:30 at the latest."

Jess's fingers absently traced patterns on the bedspread, her mind still swimming with everything they'd just unpacked between them. "I'll pick you up," she said.

"You don't have to," Tom replied quickly. "I can grab an Uber. You've had a long night and-"

"I want to," Jess interrupted. Despite her confusion, despite this new revelation about her husband's desires, the thought of seeing him, of ending this distance between them, suddenly felt urgent. Physical presence might bridge what words over a phone could not. "I'll be there."

The relief in Tom's exhale was palpable. "Thank you."

A quiet moment passed as they processed their words and the words they still hadn't shared. Tom cleared his throat. "Jess, about everything we just talked about... I don't want you to think-"

"Let's not do this over the phone," she cut in, gentler this time. "We should talk about it face to face. Tomorrow."

"You're right," Tom agreed. "Face to face is better."

Jess glanced at the clock. Her eyelids felt heavy, the emotional toll of the evening finally catching up to her physical exhaustion. "I should probably get some sleep."

"Yeah, me too. Early flight and all." Tom paused, and she could picture him running his fingers through his hair the way he did when he was uncertain. "Jess?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you." he struggled for words. "All of you."

The sincerity in his voice made her throat tighten unexpectedly. She wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the sense of betrayal, but beneath it all was the undeniable reality that this was Tom, her Tom, the man who had been her partner and champion for years.

"I know," she whispered. "I love you too."

"Even when I'm being a complicated asshole?" A hint of their normal banter crept back into his tone, tentative but hopeful.

"Especially then."

"Good night, Jess."

"Good night, Tom."

---

Tom hit the button to close the Tesla's trunk, watching it lower automatically. The airport pickup zone buzzed with activity around them. Vehicles pulled in and out, reunions happened everywhere, and impatient drivers occasionally blared their horns. But in this moment, his focus narrowed to just Jess standing in front of him.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she echoed, her eyes searching his face.

They moved toward each other simultaneously, closing the gap. Tom's arms wrapped around her waist as hers encircled his neck. The embrace was tight, desperate almost, both of them holding on like they were afraid the other might slip away. When their lips met, the kiss was neither hesitant nor performative. It was real.

Tom's hand moved up to cradle the back of her head. Despite last night's conversation, despite the unresolved tensions and newly exposed desires, this fundamental truth remained unchanged: he loved this woman with every cell in his body.

"I missed you," he murmured against her lips.

"I missed you too," she replied.

A car horn blared behind them. A security officer waved at them to move along, pointing emphatically at the "No Waiting" sign.

"We should go," Jess said, reluctantly stepping back.

Tom nodded, his hand lingering on her waist before finally releasing her. They moved to their respective sides of the Tesla and got inside.

Jess pulled smoothly into the airport traffic, her hands confident on the steering wheel. Tom watched her profile, the way her eyes focused on the road, the slight furrow between her brows that always appeared when she was concentrating.

"So," he began, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet car. "About last night-"

"Not while I'm driving," Jess interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. "Let's wait until we're home."

"Okay," he agreed.

Tom's mind raced with all the ways he could explain himself, all the words he'd rehearsed on the flight home. None of them seemed adequate now.

"How was your flight?" Jess asked, her eyes still on the road.

Tom welcomed the topic. "Not bad. I actually slept a little, which was surprising."

"You never sleep on planes," Jess remarked.

"I know. I guess exhaustion finally won out over my hatred of airplane seats."

"Those first-class seats looked pretty comfortable to me."

"Trust me, even first-class becomes a torture chamber after long enough," Tom replied.

As they drove home, Tom watched Austin's skyline grow larger through the windshield. It was still a bit strange to him, even after years of living here. Austin had been his choice, a career opportunity too good to pass up, a chance to start fresh with Jess.

"So," Tom said. "You mentioned that you got your period."

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling about that?"

She shrugged. "It is what it is. Can't force these things, right?"

"We can try again," he offered. "When the time is right."

"When the time is right," she echoed. "That's what we've been saying for a year now."

"I know," he acknowledged. "But the promotion's going to change things. We'll have more security, more savings."

"I'm sure we will," Jess replied. "How was San Diego, anyway?"

Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We made a lot of progress this week, especially yesterday. The team really pulled together, and we figured out most of the critical issues. But there's still a lot of work ahead this week."

"Long days?"

"Yeah," Tom admitted. "Probably. But just until this project is over." He watched her face carefully. "It won't be like this forever, Jess."

"It never is," she replied, a hint of old frustration coloring her voice. But then she softened. "I know you're doing your best."

"I am," Tom said earnestly. He hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the seatbelt strap. "There's something else, though."

Jess glanced at him briefly before returning her eyes to the road. "What is it?"

"Davis emailed me this morning. I need to go back to San Diego for a few days. Wednesday to Friday, same as last week."

The car went silent.

"I see," she finally said. "So you'll be home for what, four days before leaving again?"

"I have to do this, Jess." Tom turned more fully toward her. "The CEO's breathing down Davis's neck, and there are still issues that need my direct attention."

Jess nodded, her eyes fixed on the highway ahead. "Of course. The client needs you."

The resignation in her tone made his chest ache. "I'm sorry. I know the timing's bad, especially after everything we talked about last night."

"It's fine," she said, though they both knew it wasn't. "That's the job, right? That's why they're promoting you."

"I'll make it up to you," Tom promised. "Maybe we could do something special before I leave? Tuesday night, just the two of us?"

Jess's expression softened slightly. "That would be nice."

Tom reached across the center console to rest his hand on her thigh. "And when I get back, we're taking a proper weekend away. No work, no phones, just us."

"I'd like that," Jess replied, her voice warming slightly despite the disappointment still evident in her face. She covered his hand with her own, squeezing gently before returning it to the steering wheel.

The drive home felt both too long and too short. They entered the house together. Tom carried his bag to their bedroom while Jess moved to the kitchen.

"You hungry?" she called after him. "I'll make some eggs and bacon. There's coffee too."

"That sounds perfect," Tom replied, grateful for her offer. "I'll just change quickly."

In their bedroom, Tom set his bag down and took a moment to breathe. He changed out of his travel clothes into comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, splashed water on his face in the bathroom, and studied his reflection. The man looking back at him appeared unchanged on the surface. Same hair, same eyes, same features he'd always had. But inside, he felt fundamentally altered by the admission he'd made to Jess.

The smell of brewing coffee and sizzling bacon filled the kitchen. Jess stood at the stove, spatula in hand, her back to him. Tom paused in the doorway.

"Smells amazing," he said, announcing his presence.

Jess glanced over her shoulder, offering a small smile. "Coffee's ready if you want some."

Tom poured himself a cup, then leaned against the counter, watching her cook. This was such a normal Saturday morning ritual for them. Breakfast together, casual conversation. Except today, everything felt unstable, balanced on the edge of transformation.

"Need any help?" he offered.

"I've got it," Jess replied, cracking eggs into the pan. "Almost done."

Minutes later, they settled at the dining table with plates of toast, fried eggs, and crispy bacon. The food was a welcome distraction, giving them something to focus on besides the conversation looming ahead.

They ate in silence before Tom finally spoke. "Jess," he began. "About last night."

Jess took a sip of her coffee, then met his eyes directly. "I've been thinking about it all morning," she said. "About what you told me."

Tom nodded, swallowing hard. The revelation lay between them now, no longer his secret burden but something they both had to carry.

Tom set down his fork. "I've been thinking about it too. About how my explanation wouldn't capture all of it because I don't understand it myself."

"Try," she said simply. "I need you to try."

Tom stared at his plate for a moment, organizing his thoughts. "When you told me what Chris Webb said about you, what they all said, I should've been just angry. And part of me was. The thought of them disrespecting you like that. But there's this other feeling too. This... excitement."

Jess remained silent, giving him space to continue.

"It's like... knowing these powerful men, these successful men, want you... it creates this feeling in me. Pride and jealousy and excitement all mixed together. And I know how fucked up that sounds."

"You already said that last night" Jess replied. "How long, Tom? How long have you been feeling this way?"

Tom exhaled slowly. "I think it's always been there, just beneath the surface. Remember how jealous I used to get when we first started dating?"

Jess nodded. "You once threatened to punch some guy for buying me a drink."

"I was an idiot," Tom admitted. "But I think what's happening now is the evolution of that same feeling. Back then, it was jealousy because I was insecure. I was scared of losing you. But as I felt more secure in us, that feeling started transforming into something else."

"Into arousal," Jess supplied.

"Yeah," Tom admitted. "Look, I know the timing was awful. You were dealing with actual objectification, with men reducing you to your body, and then to learn that your husband gets turned on by the idea of other men wanting you... I can see how that felt like... like a betrayal."

"It did," Jess confirmed. "It felt like you were siding with them somehow, like you were joining in the same reduction of who I am to just... this." She gestured down at her body.

"But that's not it at all," Tom insisted, leaning forward. "Like I said already, I see all of you. Your talent, your intelligence, your kindness, your drive. I'm in awe of those things every day."

Jess nodded slowly. "I believe you believe that," she said carefully. "But can you understand why it feels complicated from my side? Especially after what happened at the party?"

"Of course I can," Tom said. "And I'm sorry for how I reacted last night. You needed support, not... whatever that was."

They fell quiet, just observing each other for a moment.

"I'm not sure I can work with Chris and those investors after this," Jess said, changing direction. "They see my looks first and my mind second. That's always going to be the case."

"Could you request a different project?" Tom suggested.

Jess shook her head. "Skyline's huge. Walking away would hurt me professionally." She paused. "It's frustrating because I've been here before. When I was modeling, I got this rush from being admired, from all the attention. But I started to realize that I was being valued for something I had no control over. My genes, my youth, the symmetry of my face."

"That's why you left modeling."

"Exactly. I wanted to be valued for my mind. For something I created or earned." Her voice gained strength as she continued. "I worked my ass off to get where I am. Years of education, proving myself, building a reputation based on my talents. Not my looks. And then in one night, I'm right back where I started. Just a pretty face, a body to be fantasized about."

Tom leaned forward. "But that's not all true. Your work speaks for itself. The Skyline designs are amazing, and everyone in that room knew it. That's why they were there."

"Tell that to Chris Webb," Jess said bitterly.

"Look," Tom said, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. "You're beautiful... unusually beautiful. That's just a fact. People notice and they react. So why not use it?"

Jess raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You used your beauty to make money modeling. That was a career choice. Why act like it's not an advantage now?"

"Because I want to be taken seriously as a professional."

"And you are," Tom insisted. "But think of it this way. If a man is extremely tall and good at basketball, he wouldn't complain that his height is an unfair advantage. He'd lean into it. He'd use it."

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Jess's mouth. "Did you just compare my tits to LeBron James's height?"

Tom chuckled. "I'm saying that your beauty's part of your package, along with your intelligence, your creativity, your work ethic. Why not own all of it?" Tom leaned back in his chair. "The problem isn't that men notice that you're beautiful. It's that some of them, like Chris Webb, don't see past it to everything else you offer."

"Are you actually suggesting that I deliberately use my looks to my advantage with Chris? The same man who was placing bets on fucking me?"

Tom winced at her bluntness. "No, not exactly." He leaned forward, choosing his words carefully. "What I'm suggesting is that you stop seeing your beauty as something separate from your professional self. It's all part of the same package."

"That sounds suspiciously like telling me to use my looks," Jess challenged.

"It is but it's more nuanced than that," Tom insisted. "What if you stopped apologizing for the effect you have on people and just... owned it? You walk into a room, and heads turn. That's power. That's presence. And in your industry, presence matters."

Jess's fingers drummed against her mug. "So I should just accept that men like Webb will always see me as a potential conquest?"

"No, you should make them see that you're aware of their game and you're ten steps ahead. Think about Margaret. She's brilliant, respected, and she's also completely aware of how she presents herself. You think she doesn't know exactly what she's doing with those power suits and that intimidating stare?"

"That's different," Jess argued. "Margaret isn't dealing with men discussing what she'd look like on her knees."

"Maybe not now, but you think she hasn't faced similar bullshit in her career? The difference is she found a way to weaponize their expectations against them."

Jess fell silent.

"Look," Tom continued, "what if instead of feeling reduced or diminished when someone notices your looks first, you use that moment to showcase your talent? Let them underestimate you. Then demolish them with your skill. Their confusion when they realize they've been intellectually outmaneuvered by the 'pretty face' becomes your advantage."

Jess couldn't help the small smile that formed as she imagined the scenario. "There is something satisfying about watching their faces when they realize I actually know what I'm talking about."

"Exactly. And the thing is, Jess, you've earned the right to be in those rooms. Your work got you there, not your looks. Your looks just make them pay attention faster. I'm not saying it's fair or right. I'm saying maybe there's a way to reclaim that power for yourself."

Jess considered his words. "That's... actually not a terrible point."

"I'm occasionally insightful," Tom replied with smile. "Usually by accident."

Their eyes met across the table, and something in the tension between them eased. Not gone but transformed into something more manageable.

"So," Jess said after a moment. "About your... revelation."

"Right."

"It can't have been easy keeping that to yourself."

"I didn't even think to bring it up," Tom admitted. "I wasn't really sure of what I was feeling anyway. And I was afraid you'd think I was disrespecting you or something."

Jess's expression softened. "Tom, we've been together for more than six years. Did you really think I'd judge you that harshly?"

"I don't know," Tom answered. "This isn't exactly normal, Jess. Most men don't get turned on thinking about other guys wanting their wives."

"Define normal," Jess challenged. "For all we know, plenty of men feel this way and just never talk about it."

Tom hadn't considered that possibility. "Maybe."

They sat together in peaceful silence for a moment, both contemplating.

Jess tilted her head, her eyes studying Tom with new curiosity. "Tell me more about how this evolved. You said it started as jealousy and turned into... excitement? How did that happen?"

Tom took a breath, gathering his thoughts. This was the part he'd been both dreading and needing. "It's like I said, when we first started dating, every guy who looked at you felt like a threat."

"Go on," Jess said softly.

"I kept wondering what the hell you were doing with me. Why would you stick with me when you had so many options."

"Because I loved you," she replied.

"I know that now." Tom said. "But back then, I was insecure as hell. Every guy who approached you felt like he was trying to take you away from me."

"And that changed?"

Tom nodded. "After we got married, something changed. I stopped seeing other men as threats because I felt secure with you. I knew you'd chosen me, committed to me. But the attention never stopped."

"No, it didn't," Jess acknowledged.

"And that's when things got... complicated."

"And that's when the jealousy changed?" Jess prompted.

Tom nodded slowly. "Yeah, but it wasn't overnight. It was gradual. I'd notice guys checking you out, and instead of that punch-to-the-gut feeling, I'd feel this... I don't know... this surge of pride? Like, yeah, look all you want, but she's with me."

"That doesn't sound like a sexual thing yet," Jess observed.

"It wasn't," Tom agreed. "But then I started getting... curious."

"Curious how?"

Tom's cheeks flushed slightly. "I started wondering."

"Wondering what?"

Tom swallowed hard. "Wondering what if you smiled back? What if you let him buy you a drink? What if you danced with him at a club? How would he handle you?"

Jess's eyes widened slightly. "And that... turned you on?"

"Not at first," Tom clarified. "At first it was just curiosity. But then the scenarios in my head started getting more detailed. I'd picture you leaning in close to hear him over the music, his hand finding your waist, you laughing at something he said..."

"And then?"

"And then I'd picture you kissing him."

The confession pulsed in the silence that followed, each heartbeat stretching the moment further, but Jess' face remained neutral.

Jess took a sip of her coffee. "Does it go further?" she asked, her voice remarkably steady. "In these scenarios of yours. Does it go beyond kissing?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

Tom couldn't meet her eyes. "Yes."

Jess exhaled slowly. "You imagine me having sex with other men."

It wasn't a question, but Tom nodded anyway. "I wondered what sounds you'd make. What words you'd say. What your face would look like with someone else."

"Someone like who?" Jess pressed. "Anyone specific?"

Tom shifted uncomfortably. "Sometimes it's a faceless stranger. Sometimes it's... people we know."

"Brandon?" Jess guessed.

Tom nodded, heat creeping up his neck. "Yeah."

"Who else?"

"Does it matter?"

Jess leaned forward. "It matters to me."

Tom ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, it's friends, coworkers, Derek, your yoga teacher. And... Bob."

"Bob?" Jess's eyebrows shot up. "Our tenant Bob? The one you were so worried about being alone with me?"

"That's different," Tom insisted. "Fantasy versus reality."

"But you imagined me with him?"

Tom nodded, feeling exposed.

Jess was silent for a long moment, processing. "In these fantasies, are you there? Watching?"

Tom shook his head. "No. In my mind, you're alone with them. I'm not there influencing how you act. It's like... I'm seeing the real you, how you'd naturally be with someone else. Like I'm watching a TV show or I'm a fly on the wall."

"So you're not imagining a threesome situation or anything like that?"

"No," Tom clarified. "I'm not in the room at all. It's just you and whoever I'm imagining you with."

Jess took a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving his face. "And afterward? In these scenarios, what happens after I've been with someone else?"

Tom blinked, looking slightly confused. "Afterward? I... I don't really think about that part. The fantasies aren't like some ongoing story with a plot. They're just... moments. Scenes. It's not like I'm picturing our whole life changing or something. I don't think about the 'after' at all."

"So these are just... disconnected sexual scenarios?" Jess asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Yeah," Tom admitted. "Just snapshots of you with someone else. The fantasy is about that moment, that encounter. Not about what it means for us or what happens next. It's not a whole alternate reality I'm building, just these intense scenes that... that turn me on."

Jess's expression shifted, something calculating in her eyes. "That's interesting. So you're not actually fantasizing about me having relationships with these men. Just sex."

"Exactly," Tom replied. "It's purely physical in my mind. It's not about you developing feelings for them or anything like that."

"And how far does this fantasy go?" she asked, her voice calm. "Is it just about thinking about it, or would you want to..." she hesitated, choosing her words carefully, "act on it in some way?"

The question was heavier than anything that had come before. Tom's heart hammered against his ribs as he considered how to answer. This was the cliff edge he'd been avoiding, the difference between private thoughts and real-world actions.

"I haven't thought about the specifics," he lied.

"I find that hard to believe," Jess countered, her tone not accusatory but skeptical. "You've clearly given this a lot of thought."

Tom ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, that's not entirely true. I have thought about it. But it's complicated."

"I'm listening," Jess said, setting her coffee mug down and giving him her full attention. "You've never thought about what acting on this might actually look like? Never pictured a specific scenario?"

Tom felt exposed, like someone had turned a spotlight on him during what was supposed to be a private moment. The fantasy had been safe when it existed only in his mind, when he could control every aspect of it. But articulating it to Jess, making it real through words, felt dangerous in a way he hadn't anticipated.

The memory of last Saturday night flooded Tom's mind in vivid detail. Not the photoshoot, but what came after. His mind drifted to the image of Bob stroking his massive cock to completion while staring at pictures of Jess.

Later that night, Tom's mind had betrayed him with images of Jess on her knees in front of Bob, her lips stretched wide as she struggled to accommodate his cock.

And the next morning, when Jess had woken him with her mouth, he'd again imagined her struggle to take Bob's cock down her throat, imagined her determination to master the challenge.

Chris Webb's words at the party had hit eerily close to home: "All I could think about was how that mouth would look wrapped around my cock." It was the very thought that had consumed Tom's mind as Jess's head bobbed between his legs, except in Tom's forbidden fantasy, it wasn't his own modest cock receiving her skilled attention but Bob's massive one.

The guilt was crushing. He should tell her. But how could he admit to fantasies this extreme?

And this wasn't just about his fantasies anymore. This was about an actual violation of Jess's privacy, about their tenant jerking off to her photos without her knowledge or consent. And admitting that he'd known about it for a week, that he'd kept it from her while letting her interact with Bob alone... it might be one revelation too many.

If he told her this, would she ever look at him the same way? Would she ever feel safe in their marriage again? The risk was too great, the potential damage too severe.

"Tom?" Jess's voice pulled him back to the present.

He swallowed hard, shoving the memory away. "Sorry, just... thinking."

Jess studied his face. "So have you?"

Tom shifted in his seat. "Okay, maybe I've thought about it," he conceded. "Just... maybe it'd be fun to see you flirt back with other guys. To watch you enjoy that attention openly instead of always deflecting it."

Her eyebrow arched. "Just flirting?"

"For now, yes," Tom said, then immediately regretted the qualifier. "I mean, I'm not saying it would need to move beyond that. Just that flirting seems like a safe starting point, if we were ever to explore this."

"So if Brandon flirts with me at the gym, you'd want me to flirt back? Maybe touch his arm and laugh at his dumb jokes?"

Tom's stomach felt scrambled at the specific example. "Actually, I don't think it would be a good idea with people we know well. Brandon's a friend, and that would make things messy."

"What about Derek, then? My yoga instructor?"

Tom shook his head quickly. "No, that's not what I meant either."

"Good, because I wouldn't flirt with Derek," Jess said. "People would notice, and I'd get a reputation."

"Exactly," Tom agreed, relieved she understood. "It would need to be someone more... removed from our daily lives, our social life."

Jess studied him, her head tilted slightly. "So to be clear, when you say 'flirt,' that's all you mean? You're not suggesting I actually sleep with someone else?"

"I don't know," Tom replied. "The fantasy in my head is one thing. The reality of you actually being with someone else is completely different."

"And what's the difference?" Jess pressed.

Tom considered her question carefully. "Fantasy exists in a vacuum. It's just these separate moments without consequences. Reality is messier. Feelings get involved. Jealousy could emerge. You might enjoy being with someone else too much."

"You're scared I'd like it better with someone else?" Jess asked, zeroing in on his insecurity.

Tom's cheeks flushed. "Maybe. A little. But that's not the only concern."

"What else, then?" Jess asked.

"What if it changes how we see each other? What if I can't handle seeing you with someone else, even though I think I want to?" Tom's words tumbled out faster now, giving voice to fears he'd barely acknowledged to himself. "What if it ruins what we have?"

Jess leaned forward, her eyes on Tom's face. "Let me make sure I understand you. If you were absolutely certain that I wouldn't leave you, that this wouldn't damage our relationship... is this something you'd want to happen?"

Tom's mouth went dry. "Yes," he admitted, the word escaping like a confession. "I think I would."

"You think?" Jess pressed, her voice calm but insistent. "Be clear with me, Tom."

Tom met her gaze, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Yes. I would."

"Then spell it out," Jess said. "What exactly are you asking for? What's your fantasy here? Because it sounds like you're suggesting something beyond innocent flirting."

Tom swallowed hard. "My ultimate fantasy would be... you having sex with someone else."

Tom watched Jess's face, searching for signs of disgust or judgment, but her expression remained carefully neutral.

"So what are you actually suggesting here? That I just go sleep with random men and tell you about it?"

"No, not random men," Tom said quickly, realizing how his words might be interpreted. "I want you to be safe, comfortable. I just... I want you to be your playful self. To maybe not shut down the guys who approach you. To go along with it a little and then tell me about it."

"Go along with it," Jess repeated, her tone unreadable.

"Yeah," Tom nodded. "Remember last week? When you sent me those pictures from your office bathroom? God, Jess, that was so hot. And Sunday night when you took off your panties at the restaurant? We had some of the most intense sex we've had in years."

"So that's what you want? More of that playful, sexual side of me?"

"Exactly," Tom said. "You're naturally flirty, naturally sensual. I've watched you push it down around other men. I know you were doing that for me."

Jess smiled. "You know what's funny? You're right. I have been careful. I've acted almost prudish around other men, always making sure to mention 'my husband' early in conversations, shutting down flirtation before it can begin." She shook her head, a soft laugh escaping. "And now I find out my husband wants the opposite."

"Not the extreme opposite," Tom clarified. "I'm not asking you to sleep with every guy who looks at you twice. Just... maybe explore this side of yourself. With me. For us."

"So you want to start gradually," Jess said, her tone thoughtful. "Beginning with me flirting back when men approach me."

"Yes," Tom nodded. "Exactly."

Jess studied him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. "I need time to think about all of this," Jess said finally. "When I woke up this morning, I wasn't expecting it to lead to a discussion about acting on those fantasies."

"I understand," Tom said quickly. "And there's no pressure, Jess. None at all. This is just me being honest about feelings I'm still trying to understand myself."

"What happens if I say no?" Jess asked. "Will you resent me for denying you?"

"God, no," Tom insisted. "Jess, you're my wife. My partner. Your comfort and happiness come first. Always."

"And what happens if I say yes?" she countered. "What if your jealousy comes back? What if seeing me actually flirt with someone else brings back all those insecurities you used to have?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "That's the scary part. I think I'd be okay, but I can't guarantee it. That's why we'd need to go slowly, to check in with each other every step of the way."

"This is all just fantasy, right?" Jess asked, her eyes finding his. "If we never explore this, never act on it, you'd be okay with that?"

"Absolutely," Tom assured her. "Jess, you are my priority. Us, our marriage. I'd never do anything to damage what we have."

Jess nodded. "Do you understand why this is so big for me? Why I need time to process this?"

"Of course I do," Tom said. "It's a lot to process."

Their eyes met across the table, years of shared history flowing between them.

"Can we agree on something?" Jess asked suddenly. "No more keeping things from each other? Even the weird shit, even the stuff that's hard to say. We talk about it."

"Of course." Tom agreed automatically but immediately felt guilty. Her words triggered the thought of what he'd just decided to keep from her. The image of Bob masturbating to her photos flashed in his mind again.

He opened his mouth, caught between his fresh promise of honesty and his earlier decision to protect her from this ugly truth. The conflict must have shown on his face, because Jess's expression shifted to concern.

"What is it?" she asked, studying him.

Tom swallowed hard. "It's about Bob," he began, unsure where his own words were leading him.

Jess looked confused. "Bob? What about him?"

The doorbell chimed, cutting off his words. They both jumped, the sudden intrusion shattering the moment.

"Fuck," Tom muttered, equal parts frustrated and relieved at the interruption. "Who the hell is that?"

The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time.

"I'll get it," Tom sighed, rising to his feet.

---

Through the frosted glass of their front door, Tom could make out the broad silhouette of a man. His stomach clenched as he realized who it was. He opened the door to find Bob standing on their porch, toolbox in hand.

"Morning," Bob greeted with a nod. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Tom stood at the door, staring at Bob's broad figure, all his senses sharpening with unexpected alarm. The older man's appearance felt almost supernatural in its timing, as if he'd been summoned by the mere mention of his name.

Tom, hyper-aware of what he'd been about to confess to Jess, forced a smile while fighting the urge to slam the door shut. "Just having breakfast. What can I do for you, Bob?"

"Remember when we did that inspection? We talked about starting work on the weekends." Bob's eyes flickered over Tom's shoulder, searching the space behind him. "Thought I'd get an early start on that kitchen backsplash."

Tom blinked, his mind still reeling. "Right. The backsplash. Listen, Bob, this isn't really a good-"

"Bob!" Jess's voice came from behind Tom, bright with surprise. She appeared at his side. "I thought I heard your voice."

Bob's expression brightened noticeably at the sight of her. "Morning, Jess. Hope I'm not interrupting anything important." His eyes flickered between them.

"Not at all," she assured him, her smile genuine. "We were just finishing breakfast. What brings you by?"

"Remember that list we made?" Bob set down his toolbox and reached into the pocket of his work shirt, pulling out a folded paper. "Thought we could get started on some of these projects this weekend. Like we discussed."

"This weekend?" Tom started, but Jess was already nodding enthusiastically.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked.

Bob jerked his thumb toward his truck. "Got those natural stone samples for the kitchen backsplash. High-end stuff. Thought maybe we could start there, knock it out this weekend."

"Oh, the backsplash!" Jess's eyes lit up. She turned to Tom. "Didn't we talk about that? It would be such an improvement over what we have now."

Before Tom could respond, Bob continued. "Got a connection with a supplier. This particular stone would run you about five grand retail." He let that sink in for a moment. "But I can get it for a fraction of that. Say, a thousand for materials, and I'll handle the installation."

Tom's eyebrows shot up. Even at Bob's "discounted" rate of a thousand, it was more than they'd planned to spend on a backsplash. They'd also just been discussing finances and their delayed family plans due to money constraints.

"That's... quite an investment," Tom began carefully.

"Can we see the samples?" Jess asked, her excitement palpable.

Bob grinned. "Sure thing. They're in the truck. Come on, I'll show you."

They followed Bob to his truck where he opened the passenger door and pulled out a large canvas bag. He unzipped it and spread it open across the hood of the vehicle.

Inside were several stone samples, each one more striking than the last. Bob selected one and handed it to Jess.

"This is the one I had in mind for your kitchen," he said. "It's got these beautiful veins of blue and green running through it. Extremely rare."

Jess's face transformed as she held the stone sample. The sunlight reflected off the mineral deposits, making them shimmer with an almost otherworldly glow. The base color was a warm ivory that would complement their existing cabinetry perfectly.

"It's gorgeous," she breathed, running her fingers across the polished surface. "Tom, look at this."

Tom had to admit, it was beautiful. The stone had depth and character that their current basic tile backsplash completely lacked. He could already imagine how it would transform their kitchen, adding that touch of luxury and sophistication that Jess had always wanted.

But a thousand dollars? For a backsplash?

"I don't know, Jess," he said hesitantly. "It's a lot to spend right now."

Jess turned to him, the stone sample still cradled in her hands like something precious. "But it's exactly what we've been talking about. And it's such a good deal." She lowered her voice slightly. "This is the kind of stone I specified for the Skyline penthouses, Tom. It's really high quality."

Bob cleared his throat. "I should mention, this price is just for you folks. Because we're neighbors now." He gave them a smile. "And I can install it this weekend, get it all done before you know it."

"This weekend?" Tom echoed, trying to buy himself some time to think. He and Jess had just started to work through some deeply personal revelations. The last thing they needed was Bob around all weekend.

"The whole weekend?" Jess asked, apparently thinking along similar lines.

"Probably, yeah," Bob nodded. "It's meticulous work. Can't rush it. But by Sunday evening, you'll have a showstopper of a kitchen."

Tom watched as Jess bit her lower lip, a sure sign she was trying to contain her excitement. He knew that look. It was the same expression she'd had when they'd first toured this house, when she'd spotted the potential beneath the dated finishes.

"Tom?" she asked, her eyes pleading. "What do you think?"

He looked from Jess to Bob and back again. A thousand dollars they hadn't budgeted for. A weekend with Bob in their space when they should be focusing on their relationship. Yet the hope and excitement on Jess's face made his resolve waver.

"I..." Tom ran a hand through his hair. "It's a lot of money, Jess."

"But think of the value it adds to the house," she countered. "And with your promotion coming up..."

The promotion. The one he was counting on to fix their financial situation, to finally start the family Jess wanted, to rebuild their savings. It wasn't a sure thing yet, but Davis had made it clear he was on track.

"Please?" Jess asked softly, her fingers still tracing the patterns in the stone. "It would make such a difference."

Tom sighed, recognizing defeat. "Fine. Let's do it."

Jess's face lit up in a smile. "Really? Thank you!" She turned to Bob. "When can you start?"

"Right now, if that works for you folks," Bob replied, already gathering his samples. "I've got all the tools and materials in the truck. Been preparing for this since we talked about it."

Of course he had, Tom thought. How convenient.

They led Bob into the house and up to the kitchen. Bob set his toolbox down on the counter and immediately began assessing, running his hands along the existing backsplash and measuring with his eyes.

"Good thing I've already seen the space," Bob commented. "Makes planning easier." He glanced at Jess. "You've kept it nice and clean in here. Makes my job easier too."

Jess beamed at the compliment. "Thanks. I try to keep things organized."

Bob nodded approvingly. "I'll need to remove the existing tile first. Might get a bit dusty, so you might want to cover anything important."

As Jess moved some of their things to help Bob prepare the space, Tom watched from the doorway with an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. There was something about the way Bob confidently moved through their kitchen that bothered him.

"So," Bob said conversationally as he began taking items out of his toolbox, "how was that fancy party you mentioned? The one for your big project?"

"Oh, the Skyline launch?" Jess's expression brightened. "It went really well. Our presentation was a hit, and there was a lot of interest in the designs. Some potential new clients too."

"That's great," Bob said with what seemed like genuine enthusiasm. "Always good to see hard work recognized. Talent like yours doesn't go unnoticed."

Jess's smile widened at the compliment. "That's kind of you to say."

"Just stating facts," Bob replied with a shrug. "Now, while I get set up here, why don't you two go about your day? No need to stand around watching me remove old tile. Not exactly thrilling entertainment."

"You sure you don't need help?" Jess asked.

"I'm sure," Bob assured her. "Been doing this longer than you've been alive. I know my way around a kitchen remodel."

Tom felt Jess's hand slip into his. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's let him work."

They retreated to their bedroom. The sound of Bob moving around in their kitchen still reached them, but muffled now.

"So," Jess said, turning to face Tom. "That was quite the coincidence, wasn't it? Bob showing up right when you were about to tell me something about him."

Tom nodded. "Yeah. Weird timing."

"What were you going to say?" Jess asked, her eyes searching his face. "About Bob?"

Tom hesitated. The moment to tell her the full truth seemed to have passed. If he told her now what he'd seen, with Bob just down the hall working in their kitchen, it would create an impossible situation. Besides, how could he explain why he'd kept it from her for so long?

"Tom?" Jess prompted when he didn't answer. "What is it?"

"It's nothing serious," he found himself saying. "Just... I think... I think Bob has a crush on you."

Jess's eyebrows rose, and then she laughed, the sound genuine and dismissive. "Bob? Are you serious? Tom, that's ridiculous."

Tom nodded, feeling both relief and guilt at the partial truth. "I've noticed the way he looks at you when he thinks no one's watching. It's pretty obvious."

"Oh my god, you're actually serious." Jess shook her head, her smile widening with disbelief. "Tom, he's just being nice. He's old enough to be my father and probably sees me more like a daughter than anything else."

"That doesn't mean anything," Tom pointed out. "You're a beautiful woman, Jess. Age doesn't make men blind to that."

Jess rolled her eyes, clearly finding the whole idea absurd. "Tom, I've spent more time with him than you have. He's just a lonely guy who likes fixing things and having someone appreciate his work. If you'd seen how he lights up when I compliment his craftsmanship, you'd understand. It's not about me. It's about feeling valued for his skills."

She placed her hands on Tom's shoulders, her expression softening. "Honestly, he reminds me of my grandpa. Always puttering around with projects, eager to show off his handiwork. There's nothing remotely romantic about it. He's been nothing but respectful."

Tom thought of the image burned into his brain: Bob's massive cock in his hand, Bob's eyes closed in ecstasy as he came to the images of Jess. There had been nothing respectful about that. But he couldn't tell her. Not now.

"I guess you're right," he conceded. "It's probably harmless."

A mischievous glint appeared in Jess's eyes. "Is that what you were so worried about telling me? That our tenant thinks I'm pretty?"

"I wasn't worried," Tom protested weakly. "Just... observing."

Jess stepped closer, her arms sliding around his waist. "So," she said, her voice dropping, "even if your observation was correct... given our conversation earlier, would the idea of Bob having a crush on me bother you? Or would it... interest you?"

Tom swallowed hard, caught off guard by her directness. "I... I don't know."

"You don't know?" Jess raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his discomfort. "After everything we just talked about?"

She ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head as she pressed her body against his. "What if I flirted with him a little?" she whispered. "Nothing serious. Just enough to see if you're right about this supposed crush. Would that turn you on, Tom? Would it make you happy?"

Tom's pulse quickened, his body responding instantly to her suggestion despite his conflicted mind. "Jess, I-"

"Remember how you were after those pool photos?" she continued. "How you couldn't keep your hands off me? How you fucked me so hard?" Her teeth grazed his earlobe. "Is that what would happen if I flirted with Bob? Would you ravage me again afterward?"

Tom's cock instantly hardened at her words. Jess's suggestion about flirting with Bob, the same man he'd watched masturbate to her photos, triggered a storm of arousal and anxiety that left him dizzy. The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You wouldn't..." he managed.

"Wouldn't I?" she challenged, pressing her body closer. She could feel his erection against her stomach and smiled, victorious. "That answers my question."

The reality of what was happening struck Tom with sudden clarity. This wasn't just abstract talk anymore. Jess was actively considering testing his fantasies in the real world, starting with Bob, a man who Tom knew harbored far more than just a casual interest.

His mind raced through the potential consequences. What if Bob took her flirting as an invitation for more? What if those massive hands, so skilled at fixing broken things, decided to reach for his wife? The thought should have repulsed him, should have triggered that protective instinct that had dominated their early relationship. Instead, his cock throbbed.

"This isn't a game, Jess," he said. "If you start something like this..."

Her eyes glittered with a newfound understanding of the power she held. "Then what? What happens if I start testing these boundaries? Would you stop me? Or would you encourage me?"

Tom realized she was mapping the contours of his desires in real time, probing for the truth behind his confessions. She wasn't just accepting his fantasy. She was exploring it, turning it over in her hands like a curious object she'd discovered.

A loud crash from the kitchen broke the moment. They both jumped, Jess stepping back as the sound of Bob swearing drifted down the hall.

"I should check on him," Jess said, giving Tom a look that promised this conversation wasn't over.

Tom grabbed her wrist before she could leave. "Jess, wait."

She turned back, eyebrows raised.

"I... I don't know how to feel about this," he admitted. "The fantasy in my head and the reality of you actually flirting with him are different things."

"I know," she said, her expression softening. "I was just teasing you. Besides, I told you, I don't think Bob sees me that way at all."

If only you knew, Tom thought, the image of Bob's massive cock flashing through his mind again.

"Right," he said instead. "Of course."

Jess slipped from his grasp and headed toward the kitchen, leaving Tom to collect himself. He adjusted his pants, willing his erection to subside before following her.

In the kitchen, they found Bob on his knees, gathering pieces of broken tile. He looked up when they entered.

"Sorry about that," he said gruffly. "Pry bar slipped. Nothing to worry about."

"Let me help," Jess offered, already reaching for the dustpan that hung inside their pantry door.

"Not necessary," Bob protested, but Jess was already kneeling beside him, dustpan extended.

"I insist," she said. "Four hands are better than two."

Bob's eyes lingered on Jess for a moment before he nodded, accepting her help. Tom watched from the doorway as they worked together.

"There," Jess said when they'd cleaned up the mess. "Good as new."

"Thanks," Bob said, his voice gruffer than usual. "Don't usually have such pretty assistance."

Jess laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "Sweet talk will get you everywhere, Bob."

Tom's stomach twisted at the casual flirtation. Had she always been this friendly with Bob? Or was this new, inspired by their recent conversation?

"You two should get out of here," Bob suggested, returning to his work. "This part's messy and loud. Demo work always is. Why don't you go enjoy your Saturday? I'll handle this."

"You sure?" Jess asked.

"Positive. I work better alone anyway." Bob glanced at Tom. "No offense."

Tom moved to his home office to catch up on work, but his mind kept wandering. The sounds from the kitchen were a constant reminder of Bob's presence in their home. Every now and then, he heard Jess's voice, followed by Bob's deeper rumble, as she presumably checked on his progress or offered him something to drink.

After a couple hours of staring at spreadsheets, Tom gave up. He wandered back to the kitchen, where the transformation was already underway. Bob had removed about half of the existing tile backsplash, revealing the drywall beneath. A plastic sheet had been spread across the floor, catching the debris, and Bob had set up a small workstation on the island.

"Making progress?" Tom asked, trying to sound casual.

Bob glanced up from where he was carefully prying off another tile. "Steady as she goes. Your wife's been keeping me company on and off. She's got a good eye for design."

"She does," Tom responded. "So how long will this stage take?" Tom asked, partly to break his own train of thought.

"Removal? Another couple hours, probably," Bob replied. "Then we need to prep the surface. The actual installation of the new stone will happen tomorrow."

"So a full weekend project," Tom confirmed, trying to keep the resignation out of his voice.

"Worth it though," Bob assured him. "Like I said, this stone will transform the whole kitchen. Raise the value of your home too."

"That's what Jess keeps saying," Tom acknowledged.

"Your wife's got good instincts," Bob said. "In design and in people."

Something about the way he said it made Tom look at him sharply, but Bob's expression was innocently focused on his work, giving no hint of any deeper meaning.

Tom moved back to the office, back to his spreadsheets. An hour later he found Jess in the living room, flipping through a magazine.

"How's it going in there?" he asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

"Good," Jess replied without looking up. "Bob says he's right on schedule. We should have a beautiful new backsplash by tomorrow evening."

Tom settled onto the couch beside her. "Great."

Jess turned another page in her magazine. "I was thinking," she said casually. "We should invite Bob to stay for dinner tonight. As a thank you for all his help."

Tom stiffened. "Dinner? Here?"

"Yes, here," Jess replied, looking up at him. "Where else? We could order something in. It's the least we can do."

"The least we could do is pay him," Tom pointed out. "Which we are. A thousand dollars."

"That's for materials," Jess countered. "He's not charging us for labor."

Tom sighed. The last thing he wanted was to extend Bob's presence in their home beyond what was necessary, especially after the revelations from earlier in the day. But he could see from Jess's expression that she was set on the idea.

"Fine," he conceded. "Dinner. But just takeout, nothing fancy."

Jess smiled, clearly pleased with his agreement. "Great. I'll ask him if he has any preferences."

She set aside her magazine and headed back toward the kitchen. Tom heard her voice, then Bob's deeper response, followed by Jess's laugh.

When Jess returned, her smile told him Bob had accepted the invitation. "He said he'd love to stay for dinner. He just wants to finish up for the day and take a quick shower in his place first."

Tom nodded, already resigned to the evening ahead. "What are we ordering?"

"I thought Indian," Jess suggested. "From that place on Sixth Street? I remember Bob mentioning he likes spicy food."

"Indian is fine."

They spent the next few hours or so in relative silence, Jess occasionally checking on Bob's progress while Tom worked on his laptop. The sounds from the kitchen gradually changed from the aggressive noise of demolition to preparation.

Finally, around six, Bob appeared in the living room doorway. "That's me done for the day," he announced, wiping his hands on a rag. "Wall's prepped and ready for installation tomorrow."

"That's great," Jess said, looking up from her iPad. "Thanks for all your hard work today."

"Just the beginning," Bob replied. "The real transformation comes tomorrow." He glanced down at his dusty clothes. "I'll head down and get cleaned up, then be back for dinner, if that offer still stands."

"Absolutely," Jess assured him.

"Give me about thirty minutes," Bob said, already moving toward the door. "Just enough time to wash off the day's work."

After Bob left, Jess turned to Tom. "See? That wasn't so hard."

"What wasn't?"

"Being neighborly," Jess replied. "Bob's been a huge help, and it's nice to show some appreciation."

"Sure," Tom agreed, though he didn't entirely share her enthusiasm. "Neighborly."

Jess placed the food order while Tom set up the dining table, laying out plates and silverware.

By the time Bob returned, freshly showered and dressed in clean jeans and a button-up shirt, the food had arrived. He'd made an effort, Tom noticed. The shirt was pressed, the jeans newer than his work pairs.

"Something smells good," Bob commented.

Jess smiled, gesturing toward the spread on the dining table. "Help yourself. We've got tandoori chicken, lamb vindaloo, some samosas, and a couple of other things."

"Don't mind if I do," Bob said, taking the seat across from Jess. Tom sat at the head of the table, with Jess to his right and Bob to his left.

As they served themselves, Bob kept the conversation flowing, asking Jess more about her work and the Skyline project. His interest seemed genuine, his questions thoughtful. Occasionally, he'd include Tom in the conversation, but his focus primarily remained on Jess.

"So you designed the interiors for the penthouse units?" Bob asked, clearly impressed. "That's a big responsibility."

"It was a team effort," Jess said modestly. "Sam and Annie contributed significantly."

"But you led the team," Bob pointed out. "That takes vision, leadership. Not everyone has that."

Jess smiled, clearly pleased by his recognition. "Thank you. It's been a challenging project, but seeing it come together has been incredibly rewarding."

"I know that feeling," Bob nodded. "There's nothing like seeing a vision become reality. Whether it's a luxury penthouse or a simple kitchen backsplash." He gestured with his fork toward their kitchen. "Tomorrow, you'll see your space transformed. That stone is going to make everything else in the room look better too."

"I can't wait," Jess admitted, her excitement palpable. "It's going to be such an improvement."

Bob took a bite of his vindaloo, nodding appreciatively at the spice level. "Perfect," he commented before turning to Tom. "So, how long will you be in San Diego next week?"

Tom blinked, surprised by the question. "Wednesday through Friday. How did you know I was going back?"

Bob shrugged, taking another bite. "Jess mentioned it while I was working." He turned to Jess. "You'll be on your own for a few days, then?"

"I'll manage," Jess replied, her tone light. "I've got plenty to keep me busy."

"Still," Bob said, "must be tough. My second wife, Karen, could never handle when I traveled for work. Always complained I was gone too much."

Jess's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "It's not ideal," she admitted. "Especially with Tom leaving so soon after just getting back. But that's how it goes sometimes."

"How often do you travel?" Bob asked Tom.

"Not often," Tom replied. "This is unusual. Same client, urgent situation."

"Back-to-back trips," Bob mused. "Karen used to say that was the hardest. When I'd return just long enough for her to get used to having me home, then leave again. Said it was almost worse than if I'd just stayed away."

"It is hard," Jess agreed. "The constant readjustment. One day you're figuring out how to sleep alone, the next you're back to sharing a bed, then alone again."

Tom turned to her, surprised by her candor. They'd never discussed this aspect of his work trips before.

"And it's not just the physical absence," Jess continued. "It's knowing you're focused elsewhere, dealing with some crisis, while I'm here juggling everything else. By the time you get home and readjust, you're preparing to leave again."

Bob nodded sympathetically. "That's exactly what Karen used to say. Never truly present, even when physically home." He turned to Tom. "No offense meant. Just sharing what I've learned the hard way."

Tom felt a flash of irritation at Bob but he couldn't deny the truth in Jess's words. "I'm sorry it's been difficult," he said to Jess. "We haven't really talked about how the travel affects you."

"It's fine," Jess said quickly, seeming to realize how much she'd revealed. "Like I said, I manage. And it's important for your career."

"Still," Bob interjected, "it's good to acknowledge these things. My ex-wife was also creative like you, Jess. She always felt unheard about her design ideas, her creative vision. I learned too late that listening is sometimes more important than solving." He shook his head. "By the time I figured that out, she'd already found someone else who made her feel heard."

The implication created a silence that Bob seemed entirely comfortable with.

"Well," Tom said pointedly, "Jess and I communicate pretty well. We're solid."

"Of course you are," Bob agreed quickly. "Anyone can see that. Just sharing war stories from the trenches of failed marriages." He turned back to Jess. "What other projects are you working on besides Skyline? Something tells me a talent like yours stays busy."

The conversation shifted, but the undercurrent remained. Tom watched Bob's careful attention to Jess, the way he leaned in when she spoke, asked follow up questions that showed he was genuinely listening.

By the time they finished dinner, the sky outside had darkened to deep blue. Bob helped clear the table, carrying plates to the kitchen despite Jess's protests that he'd already done enough work for one day.

"Just being polite," Bob insisted. "My mother would roll in her grave if I let a beautiful woman clean up after feeding me."

The compliment was casual, almost throwaway, yet Tom caught the slight color that rose in Jess's cheeks. She laughed it off, but the effect of Bob's words was obvious.

Finally, Bob announced it was time for him to head back to his own space. "Early start tomorrow," he explained. "Want to make good progress on that backsplash."

"What time should we expect you?" Jess asked.

"I'll be up here around ten, if that's not too early for a weekend."

"Not at all," Jess assured him. "We'll be up."

Bob nodded, then turned to Tom, extending his hand. "Thanks for dinner. And for letting me work on your kitchen. It's going to look fantastic when it's done."

Tom shook his hand. "Thank you for the work. Looking forward to seeing the finished product."

Bob's grip was firm, his eyes direct. For a brief moment, Tom had the unsettling feeling that Bob could see right through him, could read every thought in his head. Then Bob released his hand and turned to Jess.

"Goodnight, Jess. Thanks again for your hospitality."

"Goodnight, Bob. See you in the morning."

After Bob left, Jess turned to Tom with a satisfied smile. "That was nice," she said. "He's good company."

"Yeah," Tom agreed, though his mind was elsewhere. "He is."

As they moved around the kitchen cleaning up, Tom found his eyes drawn to the partially dismantled backsplash, the blank slate waiting for tomorrow's transformation. Much like their marriage, he thought. Things were shifting, changing. What would emerge on the other side?

He glanced at Jess. "Penny for your thoughts?" Tom asked.

Jess turned to face him. "I was just thinking about Bob," she admitted.

"Oh? What about him?"

"Just that he seems lonely," Jess said. "All that skill, all that knowledge, and he lives alone in a rented apartment. It's kind of sad."

"He made his choices," Tom replied, more defensively than he'd intended. "Two failed marriages, remember?"

"I know," Jess acknowledged. "But still. There's something... I don't know. Something gloomy about him. Like he's missing something important in his life."

Tom didn't respond immediately, unsure what to make of her observation.

"Anyway," Jess continued when Tom remained silent, "I'm glad we're letting him help with the house. It seems to give him purpose, you know? And the kitchen's going to look amazing."

"Yeah," Tom agreed.

Jess moved towards Tom and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Thank you for saying yes to the backsplash. I know it wasn't in our budget."

"You're welcome," Tom said, pulling her closer. "Anything for you."

---

Tom stood at the window staring out at their backyard. His mind kept replaying the day's events on an endless loop: the conversation with Jess, his near confession about Bob, Bob's perfectly timed interruption, the kitchen backsplash, the dinner that followed.

It all felt like some bizarre cosmic joke. He'd finally opened up about his deepest, most private desire, only to have the man at the center of his unspoken shame show up on their doorstep minutes later. And not just show up but insert himself into their home. It was as if Bob had sensed the exact moment when Tom was at his most vulnerable and arrived to drive the knife in deeper.

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled Tom from his thoughts. He turned to see Jess coming out in her plush robe cinched tightly at the waist.

"Hey," she said.

Tom nodded. "Hey."

She moved to stand beside him at the window, following his gaze out to the yard. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Nothing important," Tom replied.

Jess didn't press him. Instead, she leaned into him a little more, her damp head finding his shoulder.

"Today was a lot," she acknowledged. "For both of us."

Tom turned to her, abandoning the window to face her fully. "Yeah," he agreed. "It was."

"Come to bed?" she asked, her hand finding his.

Tom nodded, allowing her to lead him away from the window. They moved together toward their bed, both sinking onto the edge of the mattress.

"I've been thinking about what we talked about," Jess said. "About your... fantasies."

Tom tensed slightly, uncertain where this was going. "What about them?"

"I just want you to know," she continued, "that it doesn't change anything between us. Not in any way that matters."

"No?" Tom asked.

"No," Jess affirmed. She shifted to face him more directly. "Tom, we've been together for six years. We've built a life together. Your fantasies are just one small part of who you are, of who we are together."

Her words soothed his anxiety.

"I know it took a lot of courage to tell me," she continued. "And I'm glad you did. I want to know all of you, even the parts you're afraid to show."

"I was nervous," he admitted. "That you'd think I was... I don't know, weird."

"Tom," Jess's voice was gentle. "There's nothing weird about fantasies. Everyone has them. They're just thoughts, imaginations."

"But these particular thoughts..."

"Are just a facet of who you are," she finished for him. "And who you are is the man I fell in love with. The man I'm still very much in love with."

Tom felt some knot of tension he'd been carrying loosen. "I love you too," he said. "So much."

Jess smiled, the expression lighting her entire face. "I know."

She leaned forward then, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was soft and unhurried. Her hand came up to cup his face, her touch tender. When she pulled back, her eyes met his directly. No evasion, no uncertainty.

This time, Tom reached for her, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her. Jess responded immediately, her lips parting, her body leaning into his. He felt her hands on his shoulders, steadying herself as she pressed closer.

Slowly, deliberately, Tom's fingers moved to the knot of her robe, tugging gently until it came loose. The robe parted, revealing her body, still a bit damp from the shower, her skin flushed and warm.

Tom pushed the robe from her shoulders, letting it fall to the bed behind her. She sat in front of him, completely bare, completely vulnerable, yet radiating quiet confidence. How many times had he seen her naked? Hundreds, thousands perhaps. Yet each time felt like a gift freely given that he could never quite believe he deserved.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, the words inadequate but heartfelt.

Jess smiled, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. "Your turn," she said, helping him pull it over his head.

Together they removed the rest of his clothes and then they were both naked. They shifted to lie properly on the bed, facing each other on their sides.

Tom traced the curve of her waist, marveling at the softness of her skin. His touch was exploratory, as if he were mapping her body for the first time. Jess's hands mirrored his movements, her fingers trailing along his shoulder, down his chest, lingering over his heart.

Their lips met again, the kiss deepening as their bodies pressed closer. Tom rolled Jess gently onto her back, his weight supported on his forearms as he hovered above her. Her legs parted naturally, cradling his hips between her thighs.

Tom took his time, his mouth leaving hers to explore her throat, her shoulder. His lips traced a path down to her breast, where he lingered, tongue circling her nipple. Jess's soft gasp encouraged him further, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before soothing it with his tongue.

He moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention, responding to her sighs and the subtle arch of her back. Beneath him, Jess was all warmth and softness, her body responding to his touch with enthusiasm. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding on as if to anchor herself to him.

"You feel so good," she murmured.

Tom continued his path downward, lips trailing across her ribs, her stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into her navel. Jess's fingers tightened in his hair, her breathing quickening. When he settled between her thighs, her legs fell open wider, offering herself to him without hesitation.

He breathed in her familiar scent before pressing his mouth to her pussy. The first broad stroke of his tongue drew a moan from Jess, her hips lifting slightly to meet him. Tom took his time, alternating between gentle suction of her clit and firm strokes of his tongue, reading her body's responses.

Jess's thighs trembled as he found his rhythm, his mouth on her pussy while his fingers teased her entrance. When he finally slid two fingers inside her, her back arched off the bed, a quiet "Oh" escaping her lips.

"That's it," he murmured.

He curled his fingers inside her, finding that spot that always made her gasp, while still working her with his tongue. Jess's hands left his hair to clutch at the sheets as pleasure built within her.

"Tom," she breathed, her voice laced with need. "Please. I want you inside me."

He gave her one last kiss before moving back up her body, his lips finding hers in a deep, intimate kiss that let her taste herself on his tongue. Jess reached between them, her hand wrapping around his erection, guiding him toward her entrance.

"Wait," Tom said, pulling back slightly. "Condom."

Jess nodded, releasing him as he reached for the nightstand. He fumbled a moment before grabbing a condom from the drawer and tearing the package open. Jess took it from him and rolled it into his cock.

When he pressed against her entrance again, they both held their breath. Tom pushed forward slowly, watching Jess's face as he filled her inch by inch.

Once fully seated inside her, Tom paused, savoring the sensation of their joined bodies. It wasn't just physical pleasure, though that was overwhelming in itself. It was the intimacy of the moment, the vulnerability of being completely open to another person, both physically and emotionally.

"I love you," he said, the words pulled from somewhere deep inside him.

"I love you too," Jess replied. "Now move, please."

Tom began to thrust, his pace slow. Each movement was deliberate, designed to bring them both pleasure rather than chase his own release. Jess's legs wrapped around his waist, her ankles crossing at the small of his back, pulling him deeper with each stroke.

They found their rhythm easily. It wasn't frantic or desperate. It was a slow, steady build of pleasure and connection. Tom supported himself on one elbow, his other hand free to cup her breast and slide down to grip her hip, always maintaining that physical connection.

Jess's hands were equally active, running along his shoulders, down his back, her nails occasionally digging in slightly when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Her face was open, expressive, showing every flicker of pleasure without reservation.

"You feel so good," Tom murmured, bending to capture her lips in another kiss. "So perfect."

As Tom moved in and out, her breathing quickened. Her inner muscles began to flutter around him. Tom recognized the signs of her approaching orgasm and maintained his steady pace, wanting to draw out her pleasure as long as possible.

"That's it," he encouraged. "Let go. I've got you."

Jess's eyes locked with his, vulnerability and trust radiating from her gaze. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, her body tensing beneath him. When her orgasm finally hit, it wasn't the explosive, screaming release they sometimes chased. Instead, it was a deep, rolling wave of pleasure that moved through her entire body, her mouth falling open in a silent "oh" as her eyes briefly fluttered closed.

The sight of her beneath him, the feel of her inner walls pulsing around his cock, drove Tom closer to his own orgasm. He maintained his steady pace, drawing out her pleasure while building his own.

"Jess," he gasped, feeling his control slipping. "I'm close."

Her eyes opened, focusing on him. "Come for me," she urged, her voice warm with affection. "Let me feel you."

Tom's rhythm faltered as his orgasm built, his thrusts becoming more erratic. Jess's hands slid down to his ass, pulling him deeper till he finally lost control. He buried his face against her neck, groaning as came inside the condom.

For long moments, they remained locked together, both breathing heavily.

Eventually, he rolled to the side. The silence between them was comfortable, a shared aftermath of mutual pleasure.

After a moment, Tom rose to throw the condom in the bathroom trash. When he returned, Jess had pulled the covers back and was waiting for him.

He slid in beside her, drawing the covers over them both as he gathered her into his arms. Jess came willingly, her back to his chest, her body fitting against his like a puzzle piece sliding into its designated spot. Tom buried his nose in her damp hair, breathing in the scent of her as he tightened his arm around her waist.

"We're going to be okay, you know," she said softly. "Whatever comes, we'll face it together."

In that moment, with her body pressed against his, it was easy to have faith. The doubts, the fears, the guilt, they were still there, lurking at the edges of his mind. But for now, at least, they couldn't touch him.

They fell silent then, the only sound their gradually slowing breaths. Outside, the moon continued its arc across the sky, casting silver light across their backyard, across the pool where Bob had photographed Jess exactly one week ago.

Inside the sanctuary of their bedroom, Tom and Jess drifted toward sleep. Tom's last conscious thought was of Jess, not the fantasy version that populated his secret thoughts, but the real woman in his arms. The woman who knew his darkest desires and hadn't turned away. The woman who had seen him at his most vulnerable and still chosen him.

For tonight, at least, that was enough.

Downstairs, in his separate apartment, Bob Caldwell lay awake, staring at his ceiling, thinking his own thoughts about the couple above him, making his own plans for the days to come.