Mark Peters walked through his living room door and put down his briefcase. He had left work early, the April sun warming his blood, and driven home under a canopy of newly-leaved trees.

Loud distorted music filtered beneath the swinging kitchen door. He wrinkled his nose. Brenda was more Michael Bolton than Black Sabbath. Mark loosened his tie and entered the room.

A teenage girl sat at his kitchen counter. She was all tight jeans and piercings, bottle blonde, a white halfshirt exposing her taut young belly. A beer was on the counter, one of his, imported. A cigarette dangled from her left hand.

"Mandy?" Mark said.

Startled, the girl knocked over her beer and spilled ashes into the runoff. Mandy lived four doors down from the Peters family. Police cars seemed to glow in her driveway every night. Mark had heard she dropped out of school.

"Uh...what are you doing in here? Where's Brenda?"

"Um....shit..she's not here. I don't know where she is."

Mandy glanced at the ceiling, caught her mistake, then quickly redirected her gaze to the floor.

Mark's movements were instinctively quiet. His stealth carried him passed the bathroom and near the bedroom door. He leaned carefully forward and saw his wife riding another man in his bed.

Mark leaned back, out of vision, then leaned forward again. His wife....HIS WIFE...her palms flat on that man's stomach, sweat beading on her back, her ravenblack hair matted against her neck, and even though he couldn't see her face, he knew her eyes were closed off into whatever she saw in bliss. A calm, sharp and dangerous, slid through his body.

"Brenda. Get your shit. Get out. Now."

Brenda turned toward him, her dark eyes wide, and slowed her pace a little. She seemed to attempt a word before a moan escaped. The man was ejacuating. Mark recognized him by the spider tattoo on his neck. It was Blake...the skinny kid from down the block...tall, face full of acne, always sort of spacey and drugged out.

Mark caught his balance on the doorknob and stood back. His wife...was fucking a boy...Blake...that neighborhood kid...drug dealer...in their bed...his wife...a beautiful, liberal woman...two college degrees....riding Blake...

The boy seemed to notice Mark for the first time. He patted Brenda gently on the ass, and as she slid from his cock, smiled.

"Don't kick her out, Mr. Peters. It's not what you think."

Mark took a deep breath.

"It's not what I think? Uh...what else could I think?" Mark released, then caught, the doorknob again.

"You look pissed," Blake continued. " Listen, you're a smart guy. Don't freak out. Freaking out is just going to make it worse. Get me a smoke, babe."

Brenda stood, semen dribbling down her leg, and retreived his cigarettes from his leather jacket on the floor.

"She didn't have much of a choice in the matter. I...convinced...no, that's not the right word...made...her fuck me."

"Blake," Mark continued, "this doesn't look like your standard rape scene. What...did you do to her?" His voice was even, almost too even, and carried a threat behind it.

The boy lit his smoke and waved it in the air. "I'm totally high, but I'll try to explain it...no, no, nothing like rape, dude. I, uh...had this....stuff...that makes...uh...girls...like me. She, uh...thinks I'm the only guy who can make her scream. She'll do anything for me. She, uh, likes me now. The drug made her like me."

"Like you? The drug? You mean some sort of Spanish Fly? Spanish Fly doesn't work."

"Yeah, I guess you could say...like Spanish Fly. How long we been doing this, babe? Like three months?"

Brenda smiled sweetly. "Four."

"When I, found this stuff, I saw Brenda on the lawn in front. I told her I wanted some college advice. Brenda's always been cool. She went to get us a couple cokes, then hit the bathroom. I...uh...went in the kitchen and put the stuff in her coke. She's...we've...uh...been doing this ever since." He took a drag off his cigarette. "I thought you were working."

Mark shook the comprehension of what he had heard through his mind. "I was."

"Came home early? Shit. Have to be more careful next time. Mandy's supposed to warn me."

"The music was loud."

Blake laughed. "Bitch." He put out his cigarette in a glass next to the bed.

"Now, Mr. Peters, if I know anything about guys, you're going to get pissed soon. Before you start swinging, or drinking, or ask for a divorce, let me make you a deal."

"A deal?"

"Yeah...what do you say....four, five thousand a week for her? Only when I come over or take her out? The rest of the time she'll be normal?"

"Fuck off."

Blake shrugged. "Listen, I'm going to have her anyway. No one's going to believe that I'm drugging her. Nothing'll show up in her system. The..chemical...is good that way. I wish it worked on guys too. We wouldn't have this problem in the first place. I want to keep this quiet, you know, man? So...what the hell, I've got the money, so I'm giving you a deal."

Mark walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out the door.

He dreamt of Brenda in latex. She walked past him, swaying, into the arms of her new lover. The vision stayed in his eyes as he rubbed sleep away and gazed out the window. City lights glittered below. What was she doing now? Was she on him? Under him? Making him dinner? Fetching his smokes?

Mark took a shower and found his cock hardening as the images, a twisted slide show that reminded him of darkened booths in porn shops, passed through his mind. He masturbated, dressed, and walked to the elevator. His eyes were bleary and filled with the intoxication of witnessing his wife move on another man.

Their eyes rose at the sound of Mark's key in the door. Blake put down the joints he was rolling and scanned Mark's body top to bottom. He realized, later, that the boy was checking for weapons.

"Mr. Peters...I'm sorry about all this. I mean, it must have sucked to see your wife...uh...whatever. What can I say?"

Mark sat next to Brenda and ran his fingers in front of her eyes. She was was wearing a white satin robe he had never seen before. Her hair was dark and wet. She giggled and pushed his hand away.

"Mark," she said, "what are you doing?"

".Brenda...do you realize what's going on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're married to me but I saw you...I saw you...with him."

She shrugged.

"It all seems normal to her." Blake interjected. "Brenda, go to bed. I need to speak with your husband." She rose and quietly ascended the staircase.

"Have you thought about the deal?"

Marked took a breath before replying. "We need to settle this one way or the other. I can't...sit in a hotel room thinking about her. How much did you say? I love her...I love her, Blake, so she's not coming cheap. You can't reverse it?"

"You probably think I'm lying, but I don't think I can. And she shouldn't come cheap. She's good."

"7500 a week. No, 10,000. We were going to have kids, for christsake."

"Uh...I've been talking to her about that. Brenda says she hasn't let you fuck her when she thinks she's ovulating. She, uh...might be pregnant anyway."

Mark sighed and hung his head in his hands.

"One more thing. I get to watch. You and her. If I'm not there you videotape it all. I want to start a little library. And another thing.

I don't think I could...fuck her anymore. So I'm going to need somebody new. Mandy'll do."

Blake laughed. "You drive a hard bargain, man. I thought you said you were in love, but you're going to fuck a teenager instead? She's barely, eighteen, man. Mandy's not even on the drug. She doesn't get what's going on. She just thinks I got lucky with some bored housewife. I've never even fucked her, although everybody says she's hot. We grew up together, man, you know what I mean?" He was silent was a moment, then threw up his arms. "Sure. You can have Mandy. I don't have much of the...chemical left, but I have enough. I'll send Brenda down with a doctored beer. One condition--if Brenda's not already pregnant with my kid, I get to knock her up anyway. You guys pretend the kid's yours, for, you know, appearances. Should I throw in some doobage as well? She said you were into it in college."

"Deal."

Blake held out his hand.

"Deal."

Mark stood quietly by the dresser and watched. Brenda's hair was teased up high. She wore hoop earrings that dangled near her shoulders. A pink halter barely covered her breasts. A miniskirt was gathered up near her midsection as Blake fucked her from behind. Next to the bed were an army duffle stuffed with Blake's clothes and a stack of bags and boxes from his and Brenda's latest shopping trip.

Her husband slid his cock out of his jeans and began slowly jacking off. His left hand accepted the joint passed to him by his wife's new man and led it to his mouth for a hit. Mark's gaze settled on his wife's eyes. They were shut in hunger. Her body met each of Blake's thrusts with her own movement backwards. Mark sensed his own eruption, aimed, and ejacuated directly onto her face. She opened her eyes, licked her lips, and spit. Her eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Sorry, dude," Blake said afterwards. "She only likes mine now."

Brenda Peters admired her form in the hallway mirror. The black latex bodysuit covered everthing but the tops of her breasts. A white ribbon shone against her dark hair. With a few whiskers painted on her cheeks she'd have looked like a particularly fetching woman in a cat costume.

"Nice choice, honey," she said. "He'll like it."

Mark looked up from his paper. "Tell him it's a present from me."

She smiled and looked at her watch.

"You leaving already?" Mark said.

"Yeah, I'm picking him up from school. He's so cute. He wants to show me off to Brad Michaels...you know Brad, he just got out of jail? That reminds me...where's the video camera?"

"Under the television." Brenda walked past her husband and grabbed the camera case from the top of a stack of videotapes.

"I'm glad you gave me this outfit now," she said. "It won't fit much longer."

"That's right. When do you start to show?"

"I don't know. Soon. Is Mandy showing yet?"

I can't tell. I think so. Might be wishful thinking."

"Blake's arranged the midwife, so the births can take place upstairs.

He really wants to be there." Brenda kissed her husband on the cheek. "Be careful with my parents. He doesn't want them asking questions. Blake's got a few names ready, I think. He wants a girl. When he decides on a name I'll let you know so we can tell my parents. I won't be home for dinner, so I hope Mandy can cook. Oh! I almost forgot."

Brenda reached into her purse and pulled out a large envelope stuffed with cash and joints. Mandy, wearing loose overalls, her hair down, opened the door with her own key.

"Brenda!" she said, "On your way out? How's the morning sickness?"

"Almost gone. How about yours?"

"Much better. But I can't fit in my stupid jeans anymore. Mark won't be buying me any of those outfits anytime soon." She pointed at Brenda's latex.

Brenda laughed. "This may be the only night I can wear this for Blake before it goes in the closet for a year or so. Hey, can you make Mark dinner?"

"Sure."

Brenda smiled and whirled out the door. Mandy sat on Mark's lap and ran her fingers through his hair.

"The doctors appointment went well. Everything is right on schedule."

"Great, honey. Blake just dropped off a payment. Take what you need."

"This..." Mandy said, reaching for Mark's jeans, "is what I need."

Mark smiled, put down the paper, and pulled her to him.