In My Neighbor's Bed

Ch. 5: Hello, Neighbor

Early in my marriage, I used to dread Phil's "staying late at the office" evening phone calls. As the years went on, I became apathetic towards them. But I think this was the first time that I'd ever actually been looking forward to one.

I kept checking my phone, waiting. It didn't surprise me that he hadn't "called" yet per se. After all, we did have a fight right before he left. Still, couldn't he at least send me a passive-aggressive text or something?

Phil usually didn't come home until late, but "usually" wasn't exactly a guarantee. The last thing I wanted was to assume that he wouldn't come and end up having him interrupt us like he had the first time. Or worse, actually catch us.

I took another glance at my reflection in the window, reaching up and touching the hair clip gently. Mason's voice repeated in my head again. See you tonight?

I wanted to. I really did. But I had to be careful about all of this. I was already putting Eli at risk enough as it was. If I was really going to keep doing this, then I couldn't be reckless about it. I had to be patient. I had to be strategic. I had to be cautious.

I just wish there was a way for me to let Mason know that.

A small ping interrupted my brooding. I glanced down at my phone, my heart instantly racing with excitement as I saw the notification. It was almost funny. The first time in ages Phil had sent my heart fluttering with a text and this was what it said:

Going drinking. Bye.

Now I couldn't help but laugh. Mostly because I knew that he'd meant it as a threat. A vague warning that he was going to be somewhere with alcohol and, most likely, women. No hints as to when or if he was going to be home. Which was, of course, supposed to make me stay up all night worrying, panicking that he might be at another woman's apartment. That this might be the time I'd pushed him too far and maybe, just maybe, I'd lost him forever.

Unfortunately for Phil, he wasn't aware that I already knew exactly what "going drinking" meant. One of his friends had blabbed to his wife about it "to set her mind at ease." So, naturally, word got back to me the next time I saw her.

All they did was get shit-faced after work, then crash at their single buddy's bachelor pad so the married ones wouldn't have to go home. Which meant, luckily for me, that he was definitely going to be gone all night. I had the house to myself and, as a result, Mason too.

I practically skipped to my bedroom. My eyes combed my closet like a kid in a candy store.

What should I wear? What should I do? I was racking my brain when my eyes suddenly landed on a little box shoved into the back corner of the closet. I grabbed it, confused. However, as soon as I read the label, the lightbulb instantly went off in my head. I bit my lip as the plans started forming in my head.

Of course, what fun is a present without a little wrapping paper? A black lace bra, some matching panties, and a pair of thigh-high fishnets for a little added spice.

The cherry on top was a pair of open-toed black stilettos. I usually didn't wear them since they were too uncomfortable, but I couldn't deny the effect that it gave on the outfit. Power, confidence, and sex appeal just dripped from every inch of my body as I wore them. Besides, I wasn't planning to be on my feet for long anyway.

Now was the hard part. The wait. Mason said "tonight," but no specific time. I opened the curtains slightly. Not enough for him to really see anything, but enough that I could catch a glimpse of his window from the reflection in the mirror.

I'd been doing a good job of keeping a cool-headed, aloof approach to these little nighttime shows so far and I saw no reason to change that just because Mason knew the truth about them now. If anything, it gave me even more of a reason.