After the experience in the dungeon, I feel strangely high. Like I’ve discovered a power inside myself that I never knew existed before. It’s like how those kids in YA fantasy novels must feel when they find out they’re secretly a wizard or the chosen one or whatever. There’s this power that has been inside of me this whole time, but I never knew how to access it. Now I do. And it makes me feel like I could do anything.

It’s probably counterintuitive, the fact that submitting to someone like that has made me feel strong. But there’s something about surrendering that is powerful. So few people can go that far. Most people have too many boundaries to let themselves be that vulnerable. And when you are able to go that far, it makes you realise you can do just about anything.

Which is why I’m having a hard time dealing with my boss, Julie, the next few days. Every little thing she criticises me for makes me want to call her out on the spot. I can’t do that, otherwise I’ll lose my job. But where I used to just take things from her lying down, I now want to fight back. It’s a strange feeling. Not that I haven’t wanted to spring through the screen and slap her before. But before, the urge was fuelled by a feeling of powerlessness. Now, it’s fuelled by the urge to show her just how powerful I really am.

“I just don’t see what the issue is,” she sighs to me, over a video call with everyone else on our team, four days after my encounter with Jake. “Can’t you get this done in time?”

I take my time before responding, and let out a long, artificial sigh. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head as she watches me. Then I smile lazily. “It’ll get done,” I say at last.

“We’ll see about that,” she seethes. “It’s not like you usually do.”

This is so blatantly unfair that for a moment, my confidence wavers. “Julie, you’ve assigned me the work of two people this week,” I begin, trying to keep my voice calm. Remember, be powerful, not desperate, I tell myself. But she cuts me off.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses, Jazz.”

She then moves on to another subject, leaving me with my mouth hanging open and my ears buzzing with rage.

After the call, I feel a wave of hopelessness swell through me. Julie is never going to change. She’s one of those people who has climbed the corporate ladder by being an arse to everyone. Perhaps I should think about starting over somewhere new. The Weekend Club has given me confidence, and the urge to push forward where I might once have been happy just sitting back and letting it happen. I’ve got enough experience now. I’m sure I could break away from this company and do something on my own terms…

Or maybe I should fight back harder against Julie. Show her who she’s fucking with. I remember how I felt being dominated – like I had the strength to take it – and I feel another surge of power through my whole body.

But it doesn’t last long. As the day continues, I feel all the fight seeping out of me. I just don’t have what it takes to be mean to people to get what I want.

“Come on, why don’t we take a look at our matches?” Sean urges me that evening, draping an arm around me and pulling me close. He can tell I’ve been down all day, and I know he’s just trying to cheer me up, but I feel like a bottomless pit of despair. “It’ll be fun to do together,” he urges. “Since we haven’t been spending much time together…”

I know what that means. We haven’t had sex since before Paulo. And he thinks bonding over the Weekend Club will make us closer, like it did after our first dates. I don’t want to deny him a chance to explore more, and have sex with people, since I’m clearly not in the mood – but I just feel empty. Lacklustre. Not sure if I’m even interested in anything.

But, despite my reservations, I agree to take a look through the matches over a glass of wine. Sean has a stack of matches waiting for him, as he always does; for the first time, this bothers me. Maybe it’s just because I’m in a bad mood already about Julie, and feeling down on myself that I didn’t stand up to her, but it makes me a little jealous. Not jealous of the women he’s going to get with; jealous of him, that he’s such a catch. Clearly I’m not, if I let my own supervisor walk all over me.

I have a handful of matches, and I scroll through them without a huge amount of interest, all of them blurring together.

And then, I see him.

I stop dead in my tracks. I stare at the image in front of me, trying to work out if I am seeing things or if this is actually happening. It’s…it’s him. Mark.

Julie’s husband.

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I’ve worked with her for long enough, nearly three years now, to be able to recognise her other half from the various Christmas parties we’ve attended together. He’s tall, with dark hair shorn short against his head, and grey eyes. He’s smiling in his profile picture, and I can’t help but smile back. I turn my phone around and show it to Sean.

“Look who it is.”

“Uh, am I meant to know who…?”

“It’s Julie’s husband,” I explain impatiently. “Julie, my boss, Julie?”

“Oh, shit!” His eyes widen. He’s listened to me complain about Julie all week, and I can tell that the same thing has flashed through his mind as it has through mine.

“Are you going to message him?” He asks. I chew on my lip for a moment. This could get me into a lot of trouble. A lot of trouble. And yet, the thought of hooking up with the man who is married to the woman who has made my life a nightmare is very, very tempting…

“Yes,” I reply, before I can think about it too much.

“I’m not sure…” Sean begins, but I ignore him as I shoot off a message to Mark. Immediately, my mind races.

If Mark is on the Weekend Club, Julie must be, too. Does that mean their marriage is on the rocks? The thought makes me smile.

I leave the message sitting there and wonder if he remembers who I am. He probably does. No doubt he has seen me at enough of those work gatherings that he can remember who I am. I wonder if he’s found me attractive. God, that would just be too delicious to handle, if he’s been wanting me this whole time that his wife has been such a raging bitch to me.

Honestly, I’m not expecting much in the way of a response back, but when I wake up the next morning, there’s a message from him waiting for me. I hesitate before I click it open. Am I really doing this? I could land in serious trouble if I’m not careful, and the last thing I need right now is to lose my job. But then…

Hi, the message reads. Don’t I know you from somewhere…?

We met at a work event last Christmas, I respond.

We work together??

No. I smile as I type out the text. I work with your wife.

I see the bubbles of a response, then nothing, and for a moment, I’m afraid I’ve scared him off. Then his reply comes.

Ahh yes. Jazz. I remember you. The hot one in the office.

My stomach curls at this description of me, and I feel the now-familiar surge of excitement.

Does Julie call me that? I ask, teasingly.

Haha, he responds. No. But one time I did, and she did not like it.

The rush this gives me is similar to the rush of being dominated. It’s not about Mark, or my attraction to him: it’s about feeling powerful. And this time, powerful over Julie.

Not to make a bad joke, but I’d let you audit me anytime, Mark continues, and I laugh out loud.

Oh yeah? Have you been a bad boy this year on your tax return?

Hahaha.

The messages continue like this all night and into the next morning, us exchanging light banter and skirting around the issue of whether or not I’m going to meet up with my boss’s husband, he with his wife’s employee. We don’t discuss it, but it’s always there: a sexy and ever-increasing question.

Mark and I are in the middle of texting the next afternoon when I get a ping for a meeting with Julie. Feeling particularly euphoric, I log onto Zoom just as Julie is addressing the other employees in the meeting. She glares at me the moment my face becomes visible.

“Late again?” She demands, not even bothering to greet me. It’s been less than a minute since the meeting began, and I frown.

“I’m on ti–”

“Well, Jazz, perhaps if you had better time management skills, you might get to be a Managing Accountant like me some day,” she snaps. “But it looks like you’re going to be staying right there. On the bottom.”

Even some of my coworkers, who are usually so good at remaining politely indifferent, look shocked at Julie’s words. I want to respond seethingly, to put this bitch in her place, but I am in shock, temporarily at a loss for words. So instead, I go mute, and barely register anything she says for the rest of the meeting. It’s only after I log off that the fury comes. White hot rage.

My hands shaking, I reach for my phone.

Let’s meet, I text Mark. I know it might be a bad idea, but I don’t care anymore. I want to make Julie suffer. I want to fuck her husband. I want to feel power over her, for once. I want to fuck your brains out, I add, in case Mark didn’t get it.

When and where, he replies, and I grin. Seems like he’s as keen to get rid of his wife as I am.

"I really don’t think it’s the best idea," Sean tells me that night at dinner.

"Look, if I’m going to keep working there, I need to have something I can do to make myself feel better," I tell him as I fork salad into my mouth. "Julie needs to be put in her place. Even just if it’s in my head, okay?"

He still doesn’t look convinced.

"You should really take some time to think about this," he warns. “It could affect your job. Our livelihood. Donnie’s future.”

“Maybe if I get fired you’ll have to get a job,” I snap.

It’s a low blow, and he stiffens at once. Before I can apologise, he turns and leaves the room, leaving me to brood.

“It’s not my fault he’s unemployed,” I mutter aloud to the room. “He’s had months to find a new job.”

Still, I’m feeling guilty and a little unsure of myself as I get ready for the date with Mark. I might be making a huge mistake. But I remind myself that the whole point of the Weekend Club is to be discreet. Julie isn’t going to find out.