'Ms. Anita', she said.
Not Mrs. Wales. Not Mrs. Blackwood. Not even Mrs. David. No. She said, 'Ms. Anita.'
And worse—she dared to call her husband Dave.
That was a name reserved for golf buddies, college friends… and occasionally Anita whispered in bed as a term of endearment. It was intimate and off-limits for mistresses.
Yet, Linda said it like she owned it. Like she owned him.
Anita didn't flinch, but the offense was taken. Not because she feared Linda or cared—but because the audacity was almost laughable.
Because, for her to waltz into Anita's home, smirking on glossy lips, and tossing around "Dave" as if the weight of "husband" no longer existed, was funny.
And as for her dear husband…
David's heart almost leaped. Almost, as he shot Linda a sharp side glance. How could she introduce herself with that sultry tone, laced with innuendo? Yes, he was cheating. But that didn't mean he wanted his marriage to end.
He turned to Anita. Her gaze was locked on her purse. She seemed to be thinking.
He expected a reaction from her – he silently wished her to explode. To claim him like her prized possession. To throw Linda out and remind him – and her – that he still belonged to her.
He hoped she'd be jealous. Scared of losing him. That she'd feed his ego.
But as always… She disappointed him.
"Dave's muse?" Anita repeated, her head tilting almost too lazily. "That's… new."
Her eyes flicked back to her husband, skipping past Linda's outstretched hand like it wasn't there—until Linda awkwardly let it fall. "I never knew you had muses."
"It's the company, not m—"
"She's a gorgeous muse," Anita cut in, her tone smooth and unreadable. "I'm sure her skin is soft to the touch. And her lips…" She paused, eyes locking onto David. "…A haven for your—"
"What are you insinuating?" he snapped, panic prickling his skin. Had she found out?
"Your lipstick brand," she finished coolly. A small frown pinched her brow. "Why so jumpy? It's not like you're doing anything wrong."
Before he could respond, she turned away, saying: "I'll check what's in the fridge. I didn't stock up."
David watched her walk off, her shoulders squared, her hips swaying with controlled elegance. The way she crossed her legs, even as she moved, oozed confidence.
He hated that about her.
She was too sure of herself. Too bold. Too… dominant.
She's got too many balls for his liking.
He didn't want her like that. He wanted her to be insecure. To be soft, bashful, and completely… or not completely submissive.
He wanted her to be like Linda. Was that too hard to do?
But he knew it was wishful thinking. Anita would never be that woman. And it gnawed at his intestines. It made him feel small and unmanly.
"I said I don't want anything!" he barked suddenly, his anger boiling over, completely forgetting he never told her such a thing, neither did she make such claims.
David felt he needed to show Linda he was in control. That he was the man of this house. That he could suppress a woman like Anita with a bellow.
Anita halted and turned slowly, narrowing her eyes slightly in silence.
Perhaps, David realized he'd gone too far, he tried to speak, but before he could, she beat him to it.
"I never said I was serving you, David." Her voice was calm. Too calm that it stilled David.
And she continued. "I wasn't offering you anything. I only informed you that I'm getting myself a drink. While we discuss what your muse is doing in my matrimonial home."
David froze. Her words slapped the pride from his face. He could feel Linda's eyes burning into him from the side.
Anita turned to continue her walk to the kitchen, calm and poised, leaving behind a silence loud enough to scream.
"I'll never treat you like that, Dave," Linda whispered close to his ear, making him jump. Her hand crawled up his arm, sending goosebumps rising along his arm.
"Don't do that," he hissed through his teeth. "We might get caught."
But she didn't listen. "She's not treating you right. She treats you like a little brother. You're her husband, My King, and she should worship you, not belittle you."
Linda whispered like a seductive devil as she continued to caress his arm.
David's eyes darted toward the kitchen, where Anita had gone into. He felt a shiver of excitement run down his spine as Linda's hand crept up to his shoulder.
"You deserve so much better, My King," she breathed, her lips grazing his ear. "You deserve to be loved, to be adored, to be treated like the king that you are."
He swallowed. Only she knew how to make him feel like a man. Only Linda made him feel wanted.
David's eyes suddenly snapped wide when Linda's hand dropped lower to his waist and slid into his band.
He grabbed her naughty hand, but she squeezed his erection, soliciting a soft groan from him.
"Linda…" he growled, but it only made matters worse as she smiled, her breath caressed his ear;
"When was the last time she touched you down there? I bet I'm the only one keeping your engine alive."
"Don't speak such–"
"How could she not want you? You're monsterous. Women would kill themselves just to have this..." she squeezed him again and his breath got caught in his throat. His eyelids drooped as he slightly threw his head back, lips parted, letting out air through his mouth.
"Don't speak nonsense. My wife desires me," he whispered. But of course, it was as hollow as his brains.
"Is that so?" she smiled like a fox. "Then, let's put it to test…tonight." She leaned in, pressing her boobs on his back as her teeth grazed the sensitive part of his ear, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through his veins. "If you fail, you'll become mine alone." She pulled her hand back, giving him a triumphant smile. "I'll be waiting for you at our usual spot tonight... naked and dripping…" she whispered the last part.
…
Anita deliberately took longer than she should, washing the dishes that had spent a week in the sink, also giving them enough time to play their little game.
And that was because, in her purse, was her phone, which she'd set on record before throwing the purse on the couch.
When she returned to the living room fifteen minutes later, her husband was seated crossed legs, face flushed. And Linda, she had on a smug smile. The atmosphere was awkward, but Anita pretended not to have noticed.
She sat down beside David on the couch, setting a tray with a cup of steaming coffee and a plate of biscuits on the coffee table.
"So, muse, to what do we owe this night visit?" she asked, crossing her legs as she picked up the cup of coffee, raising it to her lips with an elegance that could only be pulled off by a queen.
Her gaze drifted to Linda, who was still smiling to herself, looking like the cat who got the cream.
"Mr. David and I had business," she began. "I brought him the designs I made. I'd just came in when you followed."
"Oh," Anita's gaze drifted to the file Linda was now holding. Like the understanding wife she was, she replied like her usual self without breaking character. "It must've been very important." Her gaze flickered to her husband. He looked uncomfortable.
A imperceptible smirk curled on her lips, hiding behind her cup. "He works all week. Weekends are days he gets to cool off. When he's home, you shouldn't bother him with more work." She added, "But since you're here already, I'll leave you two to it," With that, she stood up, picked up her purse and walked upstairs.
David's gaze followed her as every step took her further and further away from them. He didn't notice any changes in her, because she'd always been like that.
She'd never believe that her husband was capable of cheating on her.
Why was that?
Did she think she had him wrapped around her fingers, or that he didn't have enough balls?