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The first light of morning was a pale wash across their bedroom floor, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stillness. Jake lay awake, the cheap fabric of Lily's discarded Foxhole costume a crimson smear on the armchair. He watched the slow rise and fall of Lily's bare shoulders under the thin cotton sheet, the curve of her hip a soft shadow. His mind kept replaying her words from the car: "I think I got what I wanted too, Jake." A cold thrill, sharp and illicit, still pricked at his skin, followed by a queasy lurch. What had he wanted? And what had she truly found in that seedy club, amidst the grasping hands and hungry eyes?

Lily stirred, a sigh whispering from her lips. She stretched, her body arching like a cat, the sheet pulling taut across her small, firm breasts, the nipples clearly defined, puckering for a moment against the fabric. Her eyelids fluttered open, dark lashes against pale skin. She turned her head on the pillow, her gaze, clear and direct, finding his.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep. A small, knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Sleep well? Or were you too busy dreaming?"

Jake swallowed. "You... you seemed to handle all that... attention... pretty well last night."

Lily pushed herself up, propping her head on her hand, the sheet falling away to expose one perfect little breast, the areola a perfect pink. She didn't bother to cover herself. "Handle it?" She chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "Oh, I think I did more than just 'handle it,' Jake. There's something... powerful, isn't there? Having all those eyes on you. Feeling them want you. Knowing you can make them practically beg." Her eyes, dark and luminous, held his. "Especially when they're all so... pathetic. Don't you find that strangely... exciting?"

He could only nod, his throat dry. The image of her on that tiny stage, her body slick with sweat under the lurid lights, the men's faces contorted with lust, flashed through his mind.

Lily shifted, the sheet now pooling around her narrow waist, her stomach flat and smooth. "Take Mr. Harrison," she said, her voice soft, almost conversational, as if discussing the weather. "He could barely string two words together. So flustered. But his hands... oh, his hands weren't shy at all when he thought no one was looking." She tilted her head, watching Jake's reaction with an almost academic curiosity. "It was... fascinating. To have that kind of effect on someone. To see that raw need in their eyes. He actually offered me an extra fifty for a 'private moment' in the back. Can you believe it? Fifty dollars." She laughed again, a sound that was both amused and a little cruel.

The air in the room grew thick. Jake could feel the blood pulsing in his temples, a familiar heat spreading through his groin. He watched the slight tremor in her hand as she brushed a strand of dark hair from her face, the way her nipples stayed tight and prominent in the cool morning air. This wasn't the Lily who feigned reluctance. This was something new, something sharper, something that met his gaze without a flicker of shame.

He reached for her, his hand covering hers. His thumb brushed against her knuckles. He leaned in, intending to kiss her, perhaps to reassert some semblance_of his old dominance, to remind himself this was his wife.

But Lily met his advance with an unnerving readiness. Her lips were soft, yielding, yet there was a new assertiveness in the way she kissed him back, her tongue meeting his with a bold confidence. Her free hand came up, fingers tangling in his hair, not gently, but with a surprising strength, pulling him closer. As their bodies pressed together, she whispered against his mouth, her breath warm, "Show me what you liked so much last night, Jake. Show me what you want to see." Her hips moved against his, a slow, deliberate grind that was both a promise and a demand. He felt himself responding on a visceral level, his own carefully constructed fantasies being met and then surpassed by her willing, almost predatory, embrace. It was hotter than anything he'd dared imagine, and as she guided his hands to her body, her own touch confident and exploratory on his, a shiver of something akin to

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