My New Roommate Arrived with Her Husband

My next target appeared purely by chance. I was filing old case files on the floor everyone called “the asylum,” that corner of the company where they parked people who were about to retire. I went up to deliver a report by hand and, as I crossed the corridor, I saw her.

She was a woman who stopped time. Brunette, her long hair gathered in a careless bun, gray eyes, and dark circles that would have been a flaw on anyone else but on her were a promise. Wide hips, a slender body, a barely hinted smile that lodged itself somewhere inside you. I had never seen her before.

I didn’t have time to introduce myself. A sharp thud, a scream, and she was on the floor between two filing cabinets, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. I lifted her into my arms—she weighed less than she looked—and set her down in an armchair until the ambulance arrived.

“She isn’t sick,” a coworker explained. “Three years taking care of her husband, day and night. He died nine months ago, and she hasn’t been able to pick herself back up since.”

Another lowered her voice. “All that mourning, and the bastard treated her terribly. She always wore long sleeves to cover the marks.”

I crossed her off my list mentally. That woman wasn’t in any condition for games.

***

Back in my office, there was a note: “Lorena called.” I called her back. Her voice, normally nothing but rasp, sounded syrupy that afternoon.

“Iván, darling,” she purred. “I want to move out of where I live; the atmosphere is unbearable. You have a huge apartment… don’t you have a spare room? We can split the expenses.”

I accepted before she finished the sentence. Lorena had been flirting with me in the corridors for months, and I had just bought a new collection of toys that I was dying to break in with her.

Two days later, she came for the keys. I had prepared a surprise for her. I got home after three; she had already set the table, dressed in something as comfortable as it was provocative. And then I counted the plates. Three.

“Let me introduce you to my husband, Mauro,” she said through clenched teeth, looking at me as though apologizing for a scam. “He’ll be living here too. He’s taken a leave of absence.”

In the kitchen, alone, I leaned toward her ear.

“My revenge is going to be slow, and you’ll pay for it dearly,” I whispered.

“Don’t even think about it,” she hissed furiously, so he wouldn’t hear her. “It’s temporary. As soon as we find something, we’re leaving.”

***

The first week was enough for me to understand her. Mauro was friendlier than I expected, but he was made of insecurities and poorly concealed jealousy. Lorena liked showing off, and at night, through the wall, I heard their frustrated encounters: her complaints, her half-finished sighs, while he came immediately and shouted that he was going to get her pregnant.

One Friday, Mauro had to travel to his hometown and wanted to take Lorena with him. She made work her excuse and, to calm him down, announced that a friend would be coming to dinner. I was already planning my own getaway when the doorbell rang.

I opened the door. It was the fainting woman.

“I think we’ve met already,” she said with a half smile. “I’m Vera. And you must be Iván.”

She looked radiant. Her hair was loose, her eyes lined with a subtle stroke, her lips pink. The dark circles were still there, but now they were even sexy. A denim skirt hugged perfect legs, and her top outlined a deep cleavage. She thanked me for helping her when she fainted. It turned out that she and Lorena knew each other from some courses.

There was dinner, drinks, and a tension floating in the air like smoke. I went to the kitchen to prepare some drinks and heard them whispering.

“A young, charming guy,” Vera said. “I haven’t laughed that much in a long time.”

“Don’t let your guard down,” Lorena replied. “Iván has a very dirty mind. He’s a savage. He was the first man to spank me without asking permission.”

From that moment on, Vera started looking at me differently, scrutinizing me. And Lorena became jealous.

***

It got very late. I offered to take Vera home. Lorena didn’t like it, but she swallowed it when I said I would keep partying afterward. Vera invited me in for one last drink in her living room.

While she served it, I looked through the photographs: she appeared with an unremarkable-looking man. She showed me around the house, old but tastefully renovated, all in light colors. Everything fit except for a rustic dark-wood wardrobe in the master bedroom. A beautiful piece, out of place. The key was in the lock.

I couldn’t help myself. I turned it.

“No!” she shouted.

Too late. The door opened and revealed an arsenal: whips of various thicknesses, clamps, a wooden paddle, silk ropes, padded handcuffs. A collection far more complete than mine.

I said nothing. We returned to the living room. She fell silent, lost.

“Thanks for the drink,” I said, and she walked me to the door.

Before leaving, I turned and looked her in the eyes. She lowered her gaze. I knew it was my moment.

I traced the line of her jaw with the backs of my fingers. She didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she rested her cheek against my palm like a cat, though her eyes were still filled with that exciting fear that made her even more desirable.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Vera,” I whispered against her ear. “I think you and I are going to get along very well.”

***

I kicked the door shut. I led her back to the sofa and gently pushed her down until she was reclining. I knelt at her feet and slowly moved my hands up her calves, her knees, the hem of her skirt.

“That wardrobe is hiding a lot of secrets, isn’t it?” I said. “Tell me, who taught you to need that?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying. And that turns me on. It also tells me you need someone who knows how to use those toys better than your late husband.”

I opened her skirt in one movement and discovered that she was wearing nothing underneath. I parted her with my thumbs and lowered my tongue to her clitoris, slowly, savoring every tremor. She arched her back and grabbed my hair.

“That’s it… please, don’t stop.”

I made her come twice with my mouth before standing up. I penetrated her in a single thrust. She screamed, a mixture of surprise and pleasure, and I took her with all the rage I had been building up for days. I turned her over, put her on all fours, and grabbed her by the hips.

“This is what you were missing, isn’t it?” I hissed in her ear.

“Yes! This is it! Don’t stop!”

I came with a roar, and we stayed still for a moment, panting. Then I sat on the sofa and watched her pull herself together with trembling hands.

“This wasn’t a whim, Vera,” I told her as I buttoned myself up. “It’s only the beginning.”

She nodded, defeated, but deep in her gaze there was a spark of defiance that promised entire nights.

***

I returned to my apartment in the early hours of the morning. The scene that greeted me was gunpowder on the verge of igniting. Lorena stood in the living room, arms crossed, wearing a white T-shirt so thin it revealed everything underneath. Her gaze was a dagger.

“Where have you been?” Her voice was sweet poison. “I’ve been calling Vera all night, and she isn’t answering.”

I took off my jacket unhurriedly, letting the scent of another woman speak for me.

“She had a rough time. I kept her company and calmed her down.”

The concerned-friend excuse shattered on her face. What remained were dark, thick jealousy, almost palpable.

“You calmed her down?” she laughed humorlessly. “You took advantage of her, you bastard. She’s vulnerable, and you acted like a dog.”

I leaned against the counter and looked her up and down.

“And if I did, so what? Someone had to remind her what a real man is. And she loved it.”

That was the spark. She took a step forward, fists clenched.

“You’re a pig! You used her…”

“I made her feel alive,” I interrupted, moving close enough to almost brush against her. “Something you don’t know how to do. All you know how to do is lie and bring your husband home with you.”

She spat at me. I didn’t move. I wiped it off slowly, without taking my eyes off her.

“You’re going to pay for this,” she hissed.

“I’ll pay whatever you want,” I replied quietly. “But you’ll be the one who comes crawling on your knees. You’re dying to know what it’s like. You want me to split you in two just as I did her.”

I ran my tongue slowly over my lips. Her gaze fell to my mouth, and for a second, hatred was tinted with desire. I turned my back on her and went to my room.

“When you want a real lesson, you know where I am,” I said before closing the door. “But don’t come crying. Come begging.”

***

She took less time than I expected. I heard the door creak, the timid sound of her bare feet on the parquet floor. I didn’t turn around. The silence stretched on, heavy, charged with her surrender.

“Iván…” Her voice was a broken whisper.

I turned. She stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the hall light. She had taken off her shirt. She was completely naked. But her eyes belonged to a woman who had returned to her master’s hand.

“What do you want, Lorena?” I asked harshly.

She approached slowly and knelt beside the bed, head bowed.

“I want you to do it. I want you to treat me like a slut.”

“Then you’re going to have to earn it.” I grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at me. “Tell me how badly your husband does you. I’ve heard you every night.”

Her cheeks flushed, but her breathing quickened. She liked being humiliated in front of her own frustration.

“He’s pathetic,” she confessed, growing more confident. “He comes immediately, before I feel anything. And he leaves me hanging, rubbing myself like a teenager.”

“Then get on the bed,” I ordered. “I’m going to give you what he never can.”

The first thrust was hard, brutal. She screamed, but it was pure triumph. I took her without respite, every blow an insult to her husband, every deeper thrust a flag driven into the ground. I fucked her until her screams became sobs, until she surrendered in an orgasm that shook her entire body. I came inside her.

When I withdrew, she lay trembling on the bed. I looked at her and knew it was no longer a victory: it was total conquest. Now I had two. The wife and the widow. And the game had barely begun.

***

Dawn found me awake. I heard the lock on the front door, a suitcase being dragged. Mauro. He had returned during the night.

I shook Lorena’s shoulder.

“Get up. Your husband is home.”

Panic wiped the sleep from her in an instant. She put on a tiny T-shirt and minuscule panties and ran to the kitchen, where I was already making coffee. Mauro came out of the shower with a towel around his waist.

“Darling, I didn’t know you were awake!” he said, kissing her cheek. “I cut the trip short so I wouldn’t lose the day.”

“Mauro! What… what a surprise,” she replied, her voice trying to sound normal and coming out tense.

“Well, I’m going to shower too,” I said, and he calmly shut himself in the bathroom, suspecting nothing.

As soon as the door closed, the atmosphere changed. I approached Lorena from behind and slipped my hands beneath the thin fabric. She exhaled and rested her head on my shoulder.

“Iván, no… he could come out any moment.”

“Shut up and bend over,” I ordered in her ear. “We’re going to remind you where you belong. Here and now.”

I bent her over the cold marble countertop, yanked down her panties, and penetrated her in a single thrust. A muffled cry escaped her. I took her with blind fury, knowing that during the day she belonged to another man, and that made it better.

“Do you feel it?” I hissed, pulling her hair. “He’s in there showering, and I’m fucking his wife in his own kitchen.”

“Yes! I’m yours! Only yours!”

The bathroom door opened. Footsteps in the hall.

“Lorena! Can you bring me a towel?” Mauro’s voice, getting closer.

The panic in her eyes was sublime. I quickened my pace.

“Tell him to wait,” I ordered through clenched teeth.

“J-just a moment, darling! I’m busy!” she managed to say, her voice broken by the thrusts.

Mauro stopped. Had he noticed the tone? It didn’t matter. She was close. I squeezed her hard, and that pushed her over the edge: her body convulsed in a silent orgasm that left her breathless. I came inside her one last time.

I pulled out abruptly. She composed herself as best she could and turned to face her husband, who was already standing in the doorway with a confused expression.

“Busy? Are you all right? You look… upset.”

Lorena ran a hand through her hair with a weak smile.

“Yes, yes… I cut myself with a knife. Nothing important.”

Mauro approached, concerned. I poured myself another coffee, my back to them, smiling. While he tended to her, she was still dripping my come from inside. Power, I discovered, is the most addictive drug there is.

***

The following days became a dance of increasingly reckless provocations. I lifted her onto the countertop and buried my face between her legs while Mauro watched soccer a few feet away, oblivious to everything. I laid her across the dining table while he snored on the sofa. One morning, while he was at the gym, I put her hands against the living-room window in broad daylight, facing the windows across the way.

“Maybe they’re watching you,” I whispered. “Does it turn you on, exhibitionist?”

“Yes! Let them see how you fuck me!”

Risk became our language. And I knew, as I heard her moan against the glass, that this wasn’t the end of anything. I had the surrendered wife and the widow waiting for me with her wardrobe full of secrets. The game, as I had promised her, had barely begun.