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He hesitated.

But I kept my eyes fixed on his, still unbuckling his belt. I watched his breathing shift to short, sharp breaths. I unbuttoned his trousers and pushed my hand down his Calvin Klein briefs until I felt him. Soft, limp.

I glanced up at him as I started pulling back his foreskin, slowly at first. I bit my lip, tried to keep eye contact. ‘How is that?’ I asked. He couldn’t look at me. His head tilted to the ceiling. ‘Rupey?’ I asked, trying to pick up the pace, but his dick felt like a dead slug.

‘Stop! Stop, Harriette!’ he called out, stepping back. ‘Enough now, please.’

I was startled. Speechless.

He swiftly buckled his belt, then checked his watch. ‘I . . . I just don’t think I’m up to it. We have an hour before we have to leave, then I’d have to shower again, and I need to prep for the brand meeting tomorrow.’ He sighed like I was an inconvenience.

‘Right. OK, I’m sorry. I was just trying because I feel like we haven’t done that for a long time, Rupert, and I . . .’ I tried to look at him, into his eyes, but his gaze was fixed on the floor.

‘I have been busy, Harriette. Marriage isn’t always about sex, you know. Perhaps later, eh?’ Then turned on his heel and began sighing his way back down the stairs.

I stood there. Completely still. Heat rising up my neck, sharp and instant. Completely humiliated. Again.

I caught my reflection in the mirror behind his desk. I looked good, I knew I did. So what was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I enough? My bottom lip trembled slightly, and I pressed it between my teeth, forcing it still.

No, absolutely not.

I wasn’t letting him do this to me.

I marched back into my dressing room, my hands shaking slightly as I pulled open a drawer, pushing past neatly folded clothes until I felt it. My phone. The other one. My burner.

I sank onto the floor and opened my messages.

Seven unread messages from A.

Hey cheeky x

How are you?

How’s life?

I watched you today on This Morning. Looking smoking hot!

Hi stranger xx

You not speaking?

Hello??

I stared at them for a second. Then typed.

To A–

Hey . . . I have been thinking of you! We never did catch up.

I hit send before I could think too much about it. Then sat there. Waiting. My heart pounding. Wondering why I couldn’t even give my husband a hard-on anymore, not even a semi, for Christ’s sake. Then I looked back at the phone. This wasn’t a good idea. It wasn’t clever at all. It was just the need for something. I had to feel something.

Two ticks.

Great, he’s leaving me on read. Brilliant. Two knock-backs in one day. I exhaled sharply, dropping my head into my hands. I mean, why would he . . .?

Ping.

New message from A.