Something, a worry perhaps, was nagging at Brian Levine. He couldn't imagine what it could be. If asked to sum up his life, he'd immediately reply that everything was going great. He had the world by the tail, so to speak. At 32, he'd already made his mark as a successful stockbroker, riding the wave of the century's hottest market. Married for almost five years, his wife Debbi was as sexy and desirable now as the day he'd first met her. They lived in a big house in a suburb of a suburb of a major metropolitan city, their home just as impressive as any in the exclusive subdivision. Supported by his financial success, Debbi didn't have to work, instead filling her days with charity functions, social events and decorating the house. As a couple, they continued to grow together, still going out on dates and returning home for passionate sexual encounters. In fact, they'd recently begun experimenting with sex toys and new positions, adding a new spark to their sex lives. Yes, life was good. But despite all that, Brian still had that nagging doubt. It was the same feeling he got when he suspected that the market would do something crazy. Good or bad? He didn't know. But movement nonetheless.

The Thursday that everything changed started out as haphazardly and harried as any other. Brian broke out the back door at a dead run, already late for work. It took less than an hour to realize that he'd left his meeting notes on the computer at home. He briefly considered having Debbi e-mail them to the office before dismissing the thought with a smile. Debbi and computers were mortal enemies. They were more likely to shut down in self defense than to try and execute her dangerous commands. And he really didn't want to risk the possibility of all his notes disappearing into the ether. No, the best bet would be to run home, collect the disk, and head back. Maybe he'd even be able to smooth talk her into a little afternoon delight. They hadn't gotten nasty since Saturday night, and he was beginning to feel on edge.

Casa de Levine sat on a full quarter-acre on the northern edge of tony Woodridge Estates. A contemporary with cathedral ceilings and an open floor plan, it was one of the few homes with dual entrances, front and rear. The front entrance led to the regular street, which twisted and turned every which way before emptying onto the main thoroughfare. In the back, though, a short access road led directly to the highway. Brian parked his car here and trotted to the rear of his home, entering through the patio doors off the family room. Keeping quiet, but not conspicuously so, he turned left into his home office, closing the twin French doors behind him. They'd installed the doors to shut off the noise from the family room, though their plan had been only partially successful He could still see and hear everything that went on, but the muffled volume made it easier to ignore.

As the computer warmed up, Brian reviewed his hastily assembled plans. First, e-mail his files to the office, and download them to a disk as a safety precaution. Then he'd hide out for a few minutes in the hopes that Deb would come wandering through. Pausing to fantasize about this part of the plan, he pictured himself jumping out to surprise her, enjoying the startled look on her face. He saw himself steadying her with his hands on her shoulders, then drawing her close for a kiss. She'd resist for a moment and then part her lips for his tongue, which he'd thrust inside as a preview of what was to come. Then maybe he'd slip his hand inside her shirt and palm her breast, or go straight for the motherlode and squeeze her pussy through her pants. They'd collapse down on the couch, she shedding her jeans while he pulled open her blouse, his mouth finding each nipple and leaving it wet and erect. She'd undo his belt and open his pants, pulling his hard dick from inside his boxers. Unable to control his lust, he'd simply crush down on top of her, pulling her panties aside before splitting her cunt lips with his hard rod. He'd go slow at first, enjoying the feel of her rapidly warming hole, then speed up his strokes, her panties adding friction even as her passage constricted around his cock. When he finally came it would be deep inside her, though he'd probably still have to change because the smell of fresh sex would cling to his clothing.

Movement in the family room startled him out of his reverie, and he poised to spring out the door. He stopped, though, when he heard the sound of Deb's voice answered by another voice. A man's voice. He didn't recognize it, and saw why when the man followed Deb into the room. Big, black and muscular, he moved with an athlete's grace that set him apart from the more corporate and refined black men that lived in the subdivision. While he didn't recognize the man, he recognized the look in his eyes: intense, feral and predatory. Brian again tensed to spring out, this time in defense of his wife. But again he stopped before turning the knob, now even more confused by what he was seeing and hearing.

"Where you goin', bitch?" the man barked at Deb, his voice lazy and sharp at the same time. Watching him closely, Brian noticed that he didn't have the demeanor of a man who'd forced himself into a home with the intent to do harm. Rather, he acted confident and at home. Still, his wife's answer shocked him.

"I thought....I thought we'd go to the...to the bedroom," she answered meekly, turning back to him without meeting his eyes.

"Nah," he answered. "The bed's for your old man. He can have it. We'll take care of our business right here."

Brian couldn't believe what he'd just heard. The bedroom? His wife, his happy wife, had just suggested that this man should join her in their bedroom. His wife. Another man. The bedroom. His brain was having trouble putting the concepts together. He should burst out and put a stop to it. He should yell at the man to leave and demand an explanation from his wife. He should summon up all his anger and let it out at the two of them. He should... Brian blinked and let his hand fall from the knob. Why didn't he have any anger boiling up in him? Why was the need to see what would happen stronger than the impulse to put an end to it? And why was he so calmly looking for a place where he could observe his wife and the man without being seen?