Page 9 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

I did anyway.

Two minutes in the bathroom, efficient and silent. The orgasm hit fast and almost angry. I bit my lip to stay quiet.

I washed my hands twice, and looked at my reflection like it belonged to someone else.

By the time I got to the shower I was steadier. Slightly.

Steam clung to the mirror in faint streaks. I dried off and dressed in jeans and a soft sweater.

Downstairs, Brad was at the kitchen table with the newspaper open, glasses perched on his nose, coffee steaming at his elbow. Whiskers wound around the table legs. Brad looked up and smiled. "Morning. Coffee's ready."

"Thanks." I poured a cup and sat across from him. Soap and aftershave. The same as every Saturday.

I let him finish his paragraph, because he didn't like being interrupted, then set my mug down. "About tonight. Could we try something different?"

He lowered the paper an inch. "Different how?"

"Oral. You, on me." I said it fast, before my nerve went.

His face made a small twist, there and gone, a I'd suggested something faintly unhygienic.

"Lacey." He took his glasses off, which he did when he wanted to seem patient. "You know I'm not comfortable with that."

"There's no risk. I'm a doctor, I can promise you that much. We're monogamous, we're both healthy."

"I hear you," he said. "And it's a hard boundary for me, and I'd think you'd respect that, as I respect yours. I'd rather not start a Saturday with you pushing on it."

As if I had any boundaries for him to respect.

Whiskers twined around my ankles until I fed him.

"Set up the cat camera before you leave?" I asked. "Whiskers threw up again last week. I want to see how he's eating when we're not home."

"I'll handle it." He said, sipping his coffee. "I'm going in to grade papers later. You expect to be late tonight?"

"Six or seven. Four admissions, and groceries after."

He nodded. No hurry home. He'd stopped saying that years ago, and I'd stopped noticing I missed it, mostly.

I leaned in for the goodbye kiss. A dry brush of lips, no heat in it, even on Sex Saturday.

On my way out I checked the camera app. He hadn't touched it, of course, the way he handled most things he said he'd handle. I looked up the instructions for Argos Pet Monitor, angled it to take in the living room and the kitchen, and watched the test feed resolve on my phone, the empty room, the full bowl, before I locked the door behind me.

6 - THE SCALES FALL

Lacey

I finished charting the last admission a little before three, with an hour still to kill before my afternoon consults. The lounge was loud, resident doctors laughing over vending-machine sandwiches, a nurse stirring instant coffee with one hand and scrolling with the other, so I took my hour back to my office instead and shut the door.

I pulled out the chair and sat, then opened my phone to check the time. Two fifty-eight. The cat cam icon sat in the corner of the screen. I hadn't looked at the feed since I'd angled the camera this morning. My thumb hovered. Then I tapped the app.

The feed loaded. The living room in afternoon light, the couch we watched television on, the cat bowl by the kitchen doorway, still full.

Then movement in the hall, and Brad walked into the frame.

His shirt was untucked, sleeves pushed to his elbows. Two women came in behind him. Young. College-age. One of them blonde, the other brunette, both of them moving around him with loose familiarity.

Students. They had to be his students.