The call disconnected, leaving me staring at my reflection in the blank screen.
What the hell just happened?
I sat back in my chair, my mind reeling. Simone’s frankness was... unexpected. And those “arrangements” she’d mentioned, what exactly did that mean?
I thought about the way she’d looked at me. The deliberate reveal of her cleavage, the slow lick of her lips, the emphasis onnight.
I imagined what those breasts would feel like in my hands. How that red lipstick might smudge if I kissed her.
No.
I shook my head sharply. I would never cheat on Amelia. I wasn’t that kind of person. I loved my wife. Fifteen years together—I’d been faithful every single day.
A knock on my door made me jump.
“Congrats, man!” Oliver, my only friend at work, and the assistant manager of sales walked in, grinning broadly. “Head of Marketing! That’s huge!”
“Thanks, Ollie.”
“Want to grab a drink after work? Celebrate properly?”
I glanced at my watch. Amelia wouldn’t expect me home for another two hours anyway.
“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”
The bar was crowded with the after-work crowd, but Oliver had snagged us a corner booth. Two whiskeys sat on the table between us.
“So, Paris for six months,” Oliver said, raising his glass. “Living the dream.”
“I guess so.” I took a long sip, feeling the burn travel down my throat.
“You don’t sound excited.”
“I am. It’s just... telling Amelia is going to be tough. Six months is a long time. I’ll miss her.”
“She’ll understand. It’s your career.”
I nodded, but the knot in my stomach remained. I thought about Simone’s video call again, and before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out.
“You know Simone, Lucien’s assistant? She called me today to coordinate the transition. She was... I don’t know. Flirty? She talked about Paris being ‘freeing’ and how expat spouses have ‘arrangements.’” I ran a hand through my hair. “She was really pretty. Really sexy. And the way she was looking at me...”
Oliver’s eyebrows rose. “Was she making an offer?”
“It felt like it. But I’d never—I mean, I love Amelia. I wouldn’t cheat on her.”
“Who’s asking you to cheat?” Oliver leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “Look, I know a lot of guys who’ve done overseas assignments. The opportunities are insane. But some of them—they bring their wives, and they both just... experience things together.”
“Experience things?”
“An open marriage. Short-term. Just for the assignment.” He took a drink. “I know three couples who’ve done it. They come back and they’re more in love than ever. It’s like—they get to fulfill all those hidden desires and fantasies, all that curiosity about who else is out there. And in some weird way, it actually strengthens their marriage. Win-win for everyone.”
I stared at him. “You’re suggesting I ask my wife for an open marriage?”
“For six months! In Paris! Come on, Mark. You’re going to one of the most romantic cities in the world. Beautiful women everywhere. You’re telling me you’re not even a little bit curious?”
“And… if you want to sleep with Simone, this could be your only guilt-free way of doing it.”
I thought about Simone’s red lips. Her cleavage. Her slender fingers wrapped around that coffee cup. The way her poker-straight dark hair fell over her shoulders.
