Seven Days Ch. 01

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]

I recently got a disturbing message about self-harm in response to my work. Please note that this is a FANTASY. My work often features cheating, betrayal, uneven dynamic roles, and sexism - none of which I condone in real life at all. If you find yourself consuming my work or any form of media without the necessary mental precautions, please review yourself and enact them. If you're having trouble separating yourself from stuff like that commentator, please get help.

If possible, leave comments and rate this work for me to better navigate through my amateurish skills and create better works. I read them all. That said, hope this is your thing. Enjoy!

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It all started three years ago--when my husband was offered a great opportunity at this firm. It paid almost three times his salary so taking it was almost a sure-deal. My husband and I moved to another state, and we were pretty happy. It felt like we were on a riskier honeymoon after all these years. Uprooting our lives as well as our young and impressionable teenagers, Sarah and Louise, from the neighborhood they grew up in weren't minor things to do, however. New house, new neighbors, new state, new everything. It was bound to drive both of my children a little bit mad. But whatever troubles we had along our way, I countered with everything I had in spirit. As for my husband and I?

We were pretty great.

Despite the anxiety, it was exhilarating. Our passion for each other was rekindled. We were as intimate as we were again during our first years of marriage. I felt so close to him. I even started to be more involved with his work.

That's where I met Matt, my husband's work partner. Philip left some pretty important files at home and I had to drop them off on an afternoon.

I never told Philip, but I never liked him. I saw the way he stared at me whenever my husband wasn't paying attention. He had the type of gaze you'd feel as if it were licking the surface of your skin. He was flirty too.

Other than that, he seemed nice, if not somewhat rude--which is why I found myself constantly at edge. It showed how good he was at hiding things, and that was never a good trait on men in my experience.

Thankfully, we never hung out with him or accepted any of his invitations because my husband shared the same feelings, though for a different reason.

Philip hated him because he was an arrogant, stuck-up, son of a bitch with life handed to him on a silver platter. You see, Matt was your typical guy born with a golden spoon. He was handsome, well-dressed, charming, fit. Unfortunately, the negative connotations to such also applied to him; he was rude, privileged, lazy, and mostly self-aware with all of it.

The problem was, he owns it.

Matt did nothing to change his mistakes or shortcomings--a trait very much unlike my husband.

Philip was a self-made man. Whatever weaknesses he had in his strings, he made sure to fine-tune. It's that mature quality that attracted me to him during our college days. It was also the very same quality that made me think, "Oh. I'm going to marry this man," for the first time.

You could see why the two different men fought all the time. The stories my husband told me about Matt only served to worsen my opinion of him. My husband had to clean up after him several times a week. It made every anniversary of ours since then action-packed with stress, deadlines, and frustration. It took five years of tragic cancellations and untimely romantic dinners for me to finally decide taking matters into my own hands.

Eight days before my 16th anniversary with my husband, I went to my husband's office to personally ask Matt to cover his shift.

Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like if I didn't follow through it.

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When I woke up with a start, I knew instinctually that I slept in a little bit later than usual. The first thing I needed to do was to wake my husband up. As I looked beside me, I realized I didn't need to. Philip was already wide awake, staring at our hands, which were holding each other as he hugged me.

"Philip, what time's your flight again?"

He checked his timetable before answering. I looked at our alarm.

"Fuck! You've got about three hours before departure time. Sweetie, you need to leave. What did I tell you about being this late for flights?" I pushed his arms off me and lectured.

"I know, I know. I just wanted to hug you for a little while longer," he said cheekily.

"Get up and take a bath. I'm going to drive you."

Philip got up with a hearty chuckle. I rolled my eyes at him before checking on the kids. They had classes this afternoon, so they were awake.

"Morning, kids."

My daughter Louise was eating toast while studying. Sarah was, as usual, doing her hair and make-up. They grew up to be very different people, despite being literally inseparable as kids. Moving houses made them a lot more distant. To each other and to us.

Sometimes I wonder if we had really made the right choice moving here.

"Studying for a test, baby?" I asked Louise.

"Biology. It's pretty complicated," she replied, never taking her eyes off the book.

"I see. What about you, Sarah? What do you have going for today?"

She turned to me and asked, "My friends were thinking of drinking after class today since there's nothing scheduled tomorrow. Can I go?"

"Oh, which friends are going?"

"You know, the usual; Jenna, Lara, Haydn. Brian and Gregory are coming too, along with Ethan, his friend Diego, and his distant cousin who's visiting town, Hana."

Jenna and Lara are her best friends. Excluding Hana, the other four were men. My brows furrowed.

"That's an awful number of guys. You sure you can trust them?"

The older sister shook her hand innocently and asserted, "They're all just friends, Mom. You know Brian. He's the nice guy from the basketball team."

"Yep! Totally not an orgy," Louise muttered.

Sarah immediately glared at her and yelled, "Oh, my god. Shut the fuck up! I swear, you're such a dork." Louise shrugged her shoulders in provocation before raising her middle finger at Sarah.

"Louise!" I shot her a look of disapproval.

Of course, at the same time, I was anxious about Sarah. I'm not a prude. Granted, I wasn't actively sexual as a teenager or even now with my husband, but I don't criticize women who sleep around. Sarah was an adult. A beautiful 20 year-old college woman who should know what she's getting herself into.

But four jock men, and three attractive girls drinking together? It would be suspicious if nothing at all were happening. Knowing how extreme modern men's fantasies can get, I was worried for my daughter's safety.

Sarah seemed to have read my expression and insisted, "Mom, nothing bad is happening. We're just going to drink at Jenna's place."

I stared at her. I couldn't tell at all if she were lying or telling the truth.

But I didn't display my doubts on the surface. Doing so would do nothing but push her away.

Plus, even if it really was an orgy, so what? As long as she was being safe, then it was fine. Besides, I've known Jenna for a long time. That girl had no vices. As long as she's there, nothing would probably happen.

"All right. I believe you, baby. You can go. Just make sure to be safe, all right? Call me if you need any help."

Sarah cheered and hugged me. "Thanks, Mom! You're the best." She then grabbed a sandwich and said her goodbyes.

"Take your sister with you." I looked at Louise and gestured her to go with. The studious girl sighed in resignation and stood up. Sarah rolled her eyes.

I followed them across the living room as we encountered a fully-clothed Philip, his hair still slightly wet from the shower.

"Dad, I'll see you next Saturday?" Sarah asked him.

Philip smiled. "You know it, baby."

Sarah and Louise kissed him goodbye before closing the door on their way out. I asked Philip shortly after, "We should head out too. You're gonna be late."

"Yeah," he replied, looking forlorn as he checked his phone.

"What's wrong?" I asked. My heart dropped; I knew something went wrong.

Philip sighed in hopeless resignation. "My boss suddenly called. I have to go to work the moment I come back on Saturday."

"What? Our anniversary dinner is at 6:00 p.m! They can't do that."

He muttered reluctantly, "I know but it's an emergency, honey."

"They can't even give you one day of rest? You've been working all year!" I yelled defensively. I was livid. Angry at the unfairness of the situation.

He took my hand and groaned, "I'm so sorry, honey." I calmed down. Philip was probably feeling more horribly about this than me. He didn't need my hounding.

Judging by his expression, I knew we couldn't change anything regardless, so we might as well calm down.

I gurgled, "You know what? It's okay. We could just do it some other time. It's not a big deal. It's definitely not worth the stress. Just focus on your work this week, and we'll talk after. Let's just....go to the airport."

Philip squeezed my hand. The day was extremely important to both of us. It was definitely a major deal, but I didn't want to burden him with that during his whole business trip.

I pecked him in the lips before heading to the car.

The ride to the airport was a quiet one. He was probably thinking about the situation too. His plane was on terminal three, so I dropped him off as close as possible. Philip stared at me from the passenger's seat.

"I'm so sorry, Jane."

"It's really fine." Of course I lied. I was frustrated.

He held my hand and sighed, "I love you, baby."

But it wasn't his fault.

"I love you too."

I kissed him on the cheeks before he left the car. and watched his back slowly disappear within the crowd. After a few minutes of recollecting myself, I headed to the market to pick up some groceries. As soon as I was about to head home, an idea struck me.

Matt could help us.

He was Philip's partner, so he definitely knew what the urgent problem was. Although Matt was lazy and unmotivated, I heard from the other co-workers that he was actually pretty competent. Otherwise, my husband wouldn't treat him as a rival.

With newfound motivation, I did a couple more errands, dropped them off at the house, before heading to Philip's workplace.

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I talked with the reception and they let me in. Most people knew me here, so they usually don't question it. I made haste to the 17th floor using the elevator. Since it was already late in the afternoon, a lot of people were heading home.

I saw my husband's colleagues talking in the meeting room. It seemed informal--in that people were laughing and their boss wasn't there, so I opened the glass door.

"Matt, can I talk to you for a second?"

He didn't hear me at first as he scrolled through his phone. The others did, so they called him to attention before gesturing towards me. He stared at me with surprise before his lips curled up in a "bad-boy" grin. "Oh, hey. Sure. Let's talk in my office."

I was never into "bad boys" even as a teenager. While my friends screamed about handsome and wild upperclassmen, I preferred polite guys who weren't afraid of being vulnerable. Princes straight out of the fairy tales I grew up with. Prince Charming types who would open the door for you, bring you flowers every now and then without being asked, write poems about you--like my husband. Those kinds of romantic men were all I ever read about as a kid. You could imagine my disappointment when I realized men weren't exactly like that in real life. Fortunately, I wasn't thrust into society without the necessary tools and knowledge. I was naive, sure, but I was also my feminist mother's headstrong daughter. She taught me and my brothers everything about sex, consent, and healthy relationship dynamics. So unlike many women, my standards in men were astronomically high. And I expected nothing less of the expectations on me.

"You need to be with a man who treats you well, sweetie. When boys treat you terribly and you date them? You're showing every single men in the world that it's okay to treat women like that. It's a betrayal for women all around the world," she told me when I turned 18. Ever since then, I placed a lot of importance on chivalry.

Which was basically spat on when Matt dismissively led me into his office without even waiting or holding the door for me.

I sighed.

I don't even know what I expected with him. With a silent, disappointed stare, I followed his lackadaisical figure inside.

"What's up?" He proceeded to sit on top of his desk, taking out his phone and swiping through videos shortly after. I stood there in confusion, waiting for the right moment to speak. With the constant random sounds from his phone, however, it was hard to do.

I stood there, confused on how this situation progressed. Was he doing this on purpose? It was either that or he genuinely cared that little towards anyone other than himself. He even ended up chuckling over a video of what I assumed to be a cat purring on beat before falling down with a hiss from a high place along with a bunch of furniture--which ended up breaking, of course.

"Excuse me," I said firmly to grab his attention. It worked. He looked at me and spoke, "Yeah? Oh, I was listening. You were just taking a tad too long, babe."

"First of all, don't call me babe. Second of all, I came here because I wanted to talk to you. In what way did that mean to surf through a bunch of cat videos?"

"That wasn't a cat, actually." He casually showed me his phone screen, which showcased a woman clearly grinding herself to a soccer ball while she stared at the camera with her eyes cutely upturned. Her mouth was animatedly moving along to lip-sync purrs and hisses as she twerked her ass to the song, with each beat making her lose a piece of clothing--until she was completely naked except her big cat ears bouncing around with her. The next frame displayed the woman in the exact same position, only this time surrounded by multiple men who were shooting their loads directly on her face as she smiles. As if that wasn't enough, the men around her then buried the woman's face in their testicles, rubbing the spurts of white cum all over her face.

It was, without a doubt, one of the most demeaning porn videos I've ever seen in my entire life.

Meanwhile, his audacity shocked me. I stared at him; the man looked extremely unbothered. Weren't people supposed to be really shy and secretive about these kinds of stuff?

"What I wanted to talk to you about was my anniversary dinner with my husband next Saturday," I said, trying to change the flow of the conversation.

"Aw, congratulations to you two! Though, um, why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"I was hoping to ask you to cover up for him. And that you don't call us the entire night, no matter what happens," I replied.

He slid his thumb under his lower lips in thought. "Even if the company stocks were severely dropping? See, I don't know about that..."

"Please. I'm sure your company can, at the very least, allow my husband to celebrate our anniversary for a single night. He works tirelessly every day as it is."

"See, that's his problem. He's set out to do the heavy lifting on the emergency that Saturday. Covering for him is a lot of work. That's pretty much unfair to the people it inconveniences, right? Plus, he gets paid enough, doesn't he? You're making it sound as if the company is milking him out for all he's worth. The company did their part, he should do his in return--it's simple work ethics."

"You want to talk about work ethics?" I said aggressively.

His eyes gleamed aggressively as his eyebrows exhibited a sliver of provocation.....mixed with slight interest.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"You know what I mean."

"See, I'm not sure I do. Why don't you say it straight to my face?" he suggested with a smirk.

"Oh, for God's sake! I'm just asking you to cover for my husband for one night--the same way he's been doing for you in these past three years! Meanwhile, you call his work ethics into question? Do you have any ounce of self-awareness?"

His eyes widened in surprise at my sudden outburst. So did mine. I didn't want it to escalate even further, so I stayed quiet.

Fuck. I snapped.

Asking him for his help is probably impossible now--

All right. I'll cover for Philip on Saturday. You owe me though," Matt said calmly.

My mouth gaped. I fully expected him to refuse after my embarrassing outburst. Instead, he suddenly agreed to do it. Sure, I was going to owe him, but as long as the conditions weren't overbearing, I'd be glad to do them. I've always been result-oriented after all. At this point, I was just happy enough that he said yes.

"And you're gonna pay for it right now," he said, grabbing his jacket from under his desk.

"Let's grab a drink with the team. We were discussing where we wanted to eat before you called for me," he said before leaving his office.

He led me to the meeting room, ungentlemanly as ever. I reluctantly followed.

"Hey, Chris. Decided where to go yet?" he asked a colleague.

"Nope. Jason and Skylar started arguing again, so we made no progress at all."

"Let's drink. I'm covering for Philip's shift next Saturday."

"Ouch, but sweet. I was craving beer. Why are you covering for him anyway? That's so unlike you."

"Because this woman begged me to," he replied, pointing at me.

"Jane? Begging? Yeah, sure! I believe you." Chris snickered.

I nodded to greet him. Chris was a nice guy. Philip would have a much easier time if he were his partner instead.

"Whatever. She's coming by the way."

Chris brightened up. "Really? That's great, Jane!"

He turned around and announced, "Guys, we're drinking beer!"

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Just as he announced, Chris and the others ended up drinking beer in the pub. In the end, the team partied as if they were celebrating their retirement. They were rowdy. I was never one to like a rowdy crowd, so I went to sit on a quiet corner from the other side of the bar. Apparently, I wasn't the only one.

"You know, I pegged you as a strip-club-kind-of-person," I said, staring at my husband's co-worker as I sat down across him.

"I never really liked strip-clubs," Matt replied. He nodded at the bartender before putting up his index and middle fingers, which I noticed were quite elegantly long. "Two shots. Tequila."

I watched the bartender get to it.

"You're paying for this by the way."

Dumbfounded, I instinctively blurted out, "Since when?"

"Since you asked me to cover for Philip. Plus, you're drinking with me too."

I tried to refuse, but he interrupted, "You owe me."

My eyes rolled up in lighthearted humor.

"Two shots of tequila. Here's the chaser." The bartender placed two shot glasses with a slice of lemon each between us. Matt grabbed his and expertly downed it in one go before immediately ordering another four. I stared at mine.

I haven't had an alcoholic drink in a while. Honestly, it was tempting. The past few years have been rough. Philip was busy with work. My daughters were still struggling to adjust to the new environment with Sarah making dubious friends and Louise burying herself deeper in schoolwork. There wasn't a single minute where I wasn't worried about my family.

It's exhausting.

Matt slowly extended a finger and lightly pushed the shot glass towards me.

"Drink," he commanded.

Eh, why the fuck not?

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My eyes rolled up in pleasure.

"Oh, fuuuck. Yes! Fuck....fuck me h-harder! That's the spot....! OH, MY GOD. That feels amaaazing! T-there. Right fucking there! YES, FUCK! S-shiiit...!"

I came again, arms and hands clenched over my head as I completely buried my face in the mattress to muffle my squealing. This time, Matt finished too, evident by the feeling of the condom slowly filling up with his cum inside me.