Sleep did not come easily. Like a kid on Christmas Eve, my brain kept me awake, buzzing excitedly with all the thoughts of what might be waiting for me tomorrow. Thankfully, the mental exhaustion from playing nice with Phil that evening won out over my excitable mind.

Next thing I knew, I was being woken up by a bunch of loud thumping sounds. I grunted vaguely, turning towards the noise with my eyes still half-closed.

Not surprisingly, I saw Phil getting ready for work. Even less surprisingly, he seemed to be in a bad mood. I suppose I could have waited things out and pretended to be asleep until after he left, but I knew the only reason he was knocking around so loudly was to wake me up. Chances were good he'd probably try to shake me awake to argue before he left anyway. Might as well deal with it now.

I stretched and sat up, forcing a smile to my face as I looked at him. "Good morning, Dear."

He let out a dry laugh. "For you maybe."

I sighed heavily. "Great. What's wrong this time?"

I already knew the answer, of course. He was pissed about being blueballed yet again. However, acknowledging that would only lead to a new tirade of how I never had sex with him, and I was a terrible wife, and yada yada yada.

It was easier to just play dumb. His opinion of me mattered very little by this point and having him think I was an idiot meant he'd give up on me easier. After all, he'd already "explained it to me before." No point in repeatedly asking somebody to "change their ways" when they're obviously not getting it.

That's why I gave up on Phil, at least.

"What's wrong this time," he started mockingly, "is that I'm getting really sick of this teasing bullshit."

"Teasing?"

"Don't pull that shit with me. I'm sick of it," he snapped. "You flirt with me all evening, lead me on, let me think that I might actually get to have sex with my own goddamn wife for once, then leave me in the fucking bed until I pass out.

"My fault though. I should have known. Typical Maggie. As long as you get your way in the end, you can do whatever the fuck you want, right?"

I was used to these little rants of his by now. Usually, the hard part was faking some kind of emotion so I could argue back with him. However, for once, he actually made me angry with the words he said.

Get your way. Get your way. Those words made my blood boil in a way I hadn't felt in years.

It was almost funny really. All those times I had to fake my anger with him and now I actually had to hold my anger back to avoid causing any real issues with him. I took a deep breath to calm myself before diving into the rebuttal I'd rehearsed last night.

"Actually, Phil, I wasn't 'teasing' anyone." Despite my best efforts to repress it, he still flinched at the hint of genuine venom in my tone. "You're right. It's been a while since we had sex, so I had to take some extra time to 'get ready.' If you know what I mean."

I lifted up the blankets to show him that I was, in fact, all trimmed and tidied. I had the small satisfaction of seeing a hint of remorse on his face as his eyes wandered between my legs. Of course, I didn't actually do it for him, but he had no way of knowing that.

I quickly covered myself up again, glaring at him. "However, you were already asleep by the time I came back out. Guess whatever porn you were watching must have been pretty boring, huh?"

That shut him up.

Personally, I couldn't have given two shits about him watching porn. That was his business. Even when we were dating, I never really had a problem with him watching it. If anything, I assumed he did. Most people did.

Phil, however, could not stand the fact that I knew.

After all, he prided himself on his image of being the squeaky-clean boy next door. And what could be further from that than the creepy guy jacking off alone in the dark? It was humiliating for anyone to know he watched porn, let alone his wife.

Plus, as an added slap to the face, it also shined a hard light on the state of his own sex life.

Every video he watched was like a constant reminder of what he wasn't getting at home. A reminder that even some nameless, deadbeat amateur with a crappy camera was getting more sex than he was.

Him. A married, successful professional. A man that people usually looked upon with both admiration and envy. And here he was, forced to feel that way about someone he would otherwise deem completely beneath him. It was humiliating.

Not to an average person, mind you. But to someone like Phil who measured his self-worth entirely by his image? It was enough to make his blood boil.

The moment I mentioned porn, his entire face went beet red. Rage and humiliation swirled together to create an expression that I had never really seen on anybody except Phil. His fists clenched and unclenched again and again as his hands trembled at his sides.

I wasn't scared though. In fact, out of everyone in the entire world, I think Phil was the one I was actually the least worried about ever hurting me.

Again, it all boiled down to his precious reputation. The charges themself wouldn't be too much of an issue, honestly. Being a first offense and Phil having the connections he did, he'd probably get nothing more than a slap on the wrist if charges were even pressed at all. However, the damage his reputation would take from being a "wife-beater" would be far worse to him than any amount of jail time.

After all, laying his hands on "poor, sweet Maggie" would make him a pariah both in the neighborhood and at his job. Not to mention the sympathy I'd garner as a result. Screw an affair, I could get away with murder without anyone batting an eye. They'd just shake their heads in sympathy and say, "Oh, poor Maggie. You know her husband beats her, don't you?"

And Phil knew it too. Which is exactly the reason he'd never dare to touch me. Even when I pissed him off the most. And since fighting was off the table, he was only left with one option in those times when he felt scared, angry, and attacked.

Flight.

Quick as a flash, he snatched up the rest of the things and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. A few moments later, the front door slammed too. I heard as his car started up and pulled out of the driveway.

I let out a huge sigh of relief, collapsing back on the bed. Good. He was finally gone. Which meant that I could finally start getting ready for the day.

And what a day it was going to be. I hopped out of bed and skipped over to my closet excitedly. Immediately, I went to my poor lingerie. Unfairly sentenced to a lifetime of being shoved to the back of the closet.

Well, today, it was getting a reprieve. I looked through each of the pieces carefully, trying to decide not only what would be most exciting for Mason, but also what I could hide the most inconspicuously beneath my clothes.

I may not have been going far, but the last thing I needed was for any of the neighbors to see something they shouldn't have and start rumors. Rumors which, considering what I had planned today, would probably end up being true.

That being the case, I settled on a black lace bodysuit. Skintight and sexy in the challenge it presented him, but easy enough to conceal under some frumpy housewife clothes.

Which, unfortunately, I needed to wear.

Again, as much as I would have liked to prance over there in a miniskirt and fuck-me heels, I think it might have drawn a few curious stares from the neighbors. At least if I dressed "practically" for helping someone move, then my appearance at Mason's place could be explained easily enough.

After all, I was Maggie Henderson. The friendly and helpful housewife down the street. The woman with the perfect husband and the perfect marriage. An affair with the new guy across the street would be completely out of character for me. But helping a new neighbor get settled in? Now that sounded like Mrs. Henderson.

The frumpy clothes were really just an extra way to help dispel any of those whispered rumors. That said, frumpy and practical or not, it didn't mean I had to dress like I was joining a convent either. I settled on a plain T-shirt and a pair of jeans that complimented my body. They were in no way skintight, but they fit me well and showed off my figure a bit. Still within the realm of neighborly and appropriate, but enough to hint at what was underneath. The perfect outfit for a clandestine morning rendezvous.

If the damn clock would ever let me, that is.

I never knew time could move so slowly before. I kept glancing at the clock, waiting for an appropriate "after breakfast" time to head over.

In the meantime, I did everything I could to keep myself busy and distracted. I ate breakfast, I brushed my teeth, I swept around the house, I organized the refrigerator and cupboards. And after all that, it was still only about nine o'clock.

I huffed as I saw it. Okay, that had to be close enough, right? I mean, most people were usually at their jobs by nine o'clock. That definitely had to be considered "after breakfast," right?

Whether it was or it wasn't, I was done waiting either way. I gave myself one last lookover in the mirror before taking a deep breath and heading out.

By now, I'd been in this neighborhood for a few years. I knew everyone and everything that went on here. Who worked where and when, the routines of all the neighbors, which gossips and busybodies I needed to be the wariest of. Hell, I even knew what the inside of Mason's house looked like. I used to have tea sometimes with the old lady who lived there before.

And yet, even with all of my acquired knowledge over the years, even with all of the precautions, planning, and preparations that I'd done leading up to this day, I still felt terrified.

I was just walking. Walking along a sidewalk I must have walked along a thousand times by now. I hadn't even done anything worth being anxious about yet. It was just me, Maggie, out walking in the neighborhood. Same as any other day.

I tried to keep a calm demeanor outside, but inside, my heart was pounding in my chest. My eyes kept darting back and forth skittishly at every little movement and noise that happened around me. A million fears raced through my head at once.

What if my lingerie was peeking out somewhere I couldn't see? What if someone noticed how nervous I was acting and got suspicious? What if word got back to Phil about what I was doing today?

The what-ifs tumbled one after another down the spiral I was slowly sending myself into. Thankfully, salvation showed itself just when I needed it most.

Like a rainstorm in a drought, Mason's house appeared and immediately washed away all of my worries and doubts. All those fears from earlier suddenly faded into the background. That panicked voice of "what-ifs" became quieter and quieter until it wasn't even a whisper in the back of my mind. The anxious thumping in my chest quickly switched to one of excitement. And that excitement only built as each set brought me closer and closer to him.

Finally. Finally. I could be with him. I could see him, I could hear him, I could touch him. No distance, no phones, no obstacles between us. Finally, I could make him mine.