Sure enough, I get my chance to test out my new sense of power on Monday, when Julie and I are both in the same meeting, discussing the audit of a particularly difficult client.

To my surprise, Julie is in a good mood at the beginning of the meeting. She’s sometimes like this around superiors, but today she even greets me with a chilly “hello”, something she doesn’t usually do. It’s a little disconcerting. How could she be feeling so good, knowing her husband was out with another woman over the weekend? Or perhaps it made her appreciate him more, like it did with me, after mine and Sean’s first foray into the Weekend Club.

Either way, her good mood doesn’t last long. And to my delight, it’s because of me.

Another supervisor is going over the plan of attack for the client when I find myself disagreeing with him. But instead of staying quiet, like I usually do, I decide to speak up.

Unmuting myself, I say, “Sorry to interrupt, Steve, but I actually think this particular client needs a softer touch.”

Steve looks surprised by the interruption, and I watch as he squints at his screen, as if trying to read out the name of the person who has spoken.

“Ahh… Jazz…” He quickly smoothes the surprise from his face, replacing it with polite curiosity. “Yes, yes, you’ve been working closely with this client, haven’t you? Please, go on.” From her Zoom square, I can see Julie’s face beginning to twist with anger.

I smile and straighten my shoulders. “Thank you, Steve. Yes, as you said, I’ve been working closely with this client, and I feel that they need a gentler approach. They’re getting a bit skittish, and my fear is that that might make them less transparent. More stubborn. Recalcitrant. However, if they think we’re on their side, they might actually be easier to work with.”

Julie unmutes herself. Her voice is sickly sweet. “I’m just going to jump in here. While I appreciate Jazz’s contributions, I really don’t think that she’s qualified to – ”

“Excuse me,” I interrupt, and it’s hard not to laugh when I see Julie’s eyes nearly bug out of her face. I’ve never interrupted her before, especially in front of other people. “But I’ve made inroads with Mr. Perkins, and I have his ear. I really think I’ve got the sense of things here. And while Julie has been indispensable in her guidance – ” I flash her a smile “ – she hasn’t been working on the ground level like I have.”

Julie opens her mouth to argue, fury etching her entire face, but Steve speaks first. “That’s a good point, Jazz. You do have invaluable insight into the situation. We’ll take all this into consideration. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

“But – ” Julie begins, but Steve smiles in the way managers do when they’re being indulgent but want you to stop talking. “Thank you, Julie. Let’s move on for now, shall we?”

For the rest of the meeting, Julie remains quiet. The expression on her face, however, is very easy to read. She’s stewing, biting back the vitriol she wants to throw at me. And once the meeting is adjourned, she’s the first person to log off. Immediately after, she sends me a DM.

Trying to get noticed for the Accounting Manager position, are you? I know it’s meant to antagonise me, but I just respond with a Thumbs Up emoji, which I know will drive her crazy. Meanwhile, Steve also sends me a message.

Great work today, Jazz! Love to see you stepping up.

I lean back in my chair as a wave of adrenaline courses through me. Yes, I am doing great work. I’m confident now, sure of my power and worth, and it’s thanks to fucking to Julie’s husband. It’s all thanks to the Weekend Club.

Which is what leads me to my next date, with Freddy.

When I first swipe on Freddy, I am sure it is someone else. Because there is no way Freddy Campbell is on a site like this. I have known Freddy through Samantha, his wife, for years. They are friends from college who moved near us and became our occasional double date partners for Saturday evening drinks – but I would never in a million years have suspected they are involved in something as deviant as the Weekend Club.

Samantha always seems so innocent to me. But if this experience has taught me one thing, it’s that the people we think we know are rarely the versions of them that exist behind closed doors.

Not that we are doing this date behind closed doors, of course. But that’s part of the fun. The rush of knowing I’m dating, and going to sleep with, my friend’s husband. That we could get caught.

"Hey, Jazz."

I look up, and there he is. God, I’ve never really allowed myself to notice how handsome he is before this moment, but there’s no denying it – the sight of him in front of me, he’s gorgeous. He’s got softer features, long hair that curls down just past his ears, and a deep olive complexion that brings out the flecks of green in his brown eyes beautifully.

"Hi," I say, and I smile as I stand to give him a hug. I’ve never spent time with him alone before, and something about it feels so wrong yet so right at the same time. I love this. It’s the fizz in my stomach, the sure sign that I am making the right call, that keeps me coming back to the Weekend Club for more. Maybe it’s some sort of addiction, or maybe I am just finally being honest about what I really want: power and control.

"I couldn’t believe it when I saw you on that app," he remarks, as we both sit down. We’re at a hotel bar, the easiest place to meet up when it comes to stuff like this. We can just slip upstairs if we feel like things are going right, and I get the feeling that they’re going to go just perfectly based on the way he’s looking at me right now.

Stolen story; please report.

"Me neither," I confess. "I never thought you and Samantha… well. I thought you were more likely to be shocked at something like this than want to get into it yourself."

"I was, at first," he admits, leaning a little closer, as though sharing top-secret information. "She was the one who came to me with all of it, and I just… Honestly, I didn’t know what to think."

"How did she convince you?" I ask. Honestly, when it comes to all of this stuff, I just assumed it would mostly be the men pushing to go through with it, but maybe I need to expand my mind a little. After all, I was the one who brought it to Sean.

"She showed me some of the girls who were on here," he explains, with a shrug. "And I knew that I couldn’t turn down the chance..."

We get talking, and soon, we’re flying back and forth with our experiences on the app – all the people we’ve hooked up with, all the fun that we’ve had, all the dud dates we’ve been on. I feel like I’m getting to know him better than I ever would have had we just kept things at the state they’d been before. Maybe there’s something to be said for really going for this, huh?

Soon, we end up back at the hotel room I’ve booked for both of us. We agree that it’s just for another drink, but I am sure that he can tell from the look on my face that I’m craving more. I hardly get the mini-fridge open before I feel his hands gliding over my hips, pulling me back against him, where I can feel the hardness of his cock through his trousers.

"You look so good," he murmurs, his mouth so close to my neck that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. Oh, he knows just what he’s doing, I can tell – I might have had him and Samantha down as nothing more than a slightly basic but pleasant couple, but he’s clearly more than that. I moan softly and sink against him, letting him know I am ready for this.

He brushes his lips against my neck, and soon, his mouth is hovering just an inch or so from my ear.

"Can I ask you something?" He murmurs. The feel of his lips on my skin is enough to make everything else vanish from my mind, and all I can do is nod.

“Samantha doesn’t like having anyone go down on her,” he explains. “She’s too self-conscious for that. I don’t get to eat pussy as much as I’d like, but if you’d let me…”

“Eat me pussy,” I say, a little breathlessly. “Put your mouth on me.”

His hand moves to the front of my jeans, just above the waistline, and he skims his fingers along them playfully. I know just what he’s saying, just what he’s trying to communicate, and all I can do in return is blurt out a breathless yes.

He guides me back towards the bed and gently eases me down in front of him – he's careful with me, but I can see from the look in his eyes that this is going to last a long time. He pulls off my jeans and my underwear, tossing them aside, and he moves to lay between my legs. He plants a kiss on the inside of my thigh and then looks up, watching my reaction as I squirm on the sheets.

"Mmm," I moan softly, as he kisses further up the crease of my thigh, towards my pussy – but he doesn’t go down on me yet. I squirm helplessly on the bed as he traces a line of kisses around my mound, down the other side, trailing his fingers where his mouth has just been so that the sensation tingles through my whole body.

I’ve been with guys before who claimed they liked to go down on women, but the pace he’s going tells me he really means it. Finally, with his eyes on me, he plants his lips against my clit for the first time, and I let out a helpless moan of pleasure as his tongue swirls around my engorged nub.

My head sinks back onto the pillow, the effort of keeping it up next to impossible, but as soon as I do that, he stops. I look down at him, panting for breath.

"What...?”

"Keep looking at me," he says, and he moves his mouth back to where I want it. This time, I don’t let my eyes move from his, even though the combination of the sight and the sensation of what he’s doing is almost too much to take.

Because soon, it starts to build. Slowly. Tantalisingly. He takes his time, moving his tongue in almost agonisingly gentle circles against my clit, and I try to thrust my hips back up to meet him – but he plants his hands on my legs, holding me in place. This is on his terms, and he is going to make it as deliciously, painfully erotic as he can.

He kisses down, down towards my slit, and gently pushes his tongue inside of me – it's not as satisfying as his cock spreading me open, but damn, it’s good. With the softest touch, he pinches my clit between his fingers, massaging me as he fucks me with his tongue.

And his eyes are on me the whole time, making sure that I’m not looking away, making sure that I’m not missing a moment of this. The sight of him, this man who is married to a friend of mine, eating my pussy like it’s the most delicious thing in the world, sends a shockwave of arousal through me, and I groan again. I need more. I want to reach down and thrust his head between my legs, but I know that he would just pull back and make me wait more. This has to be on his terms. And that means playing it by his rules – no matter how painful.

He moves back to my clit again, pushing his fingers inside me to replace his tongue, and begins to swirl his tongue around my clit once more. The pressure inside me is intense and I know I’m not going to be able to hold out much longer. I don’t want to, either – I want to cum; I want to do it with his mouth between my legs, his eyes fastened on me.

He seals his lips around my clit and sucks lightly, and the pressure makes my head spin. I’m close, so close I can hardly stand it. He knows what he is doing down there, and the thought that his wife doesn’t get to experience this makes me thrill with power and delight.

Finally, I feel my thighs tense, and I squeeze them around his head as the orgasm tears through my body. I close my eyes at last, letting myself focus on nothing but the pleasure, and cry out, loud enough that I am sure everyone else in the hotel can hear me. Good, let them – I want everyone to know how good I’m getting it right now.

He lifts his head from between my legs, and I reach down to pull him on top of me, kissing him hungrily. I can taste myself on his lips but that only turns me on more, the reminder of where he has just been, of how passionately he has just pleasured me.

“That was amazing,” I murmur, and he grins happily.

“I love how much you love it,” he says. “It’s so different from Samantha.”

“I can’t believe she doesn’t like that,” I say, shaking my head.

For a second, a look of anger and hurt flashes across Freddy’s face, and I get the sense that, even though he brought it up, this is a sensitive subject. Or at least a painful one. But instead of letting it go, I dig my fingers in. This is what I wanted, after all: to feel the power.

I wind my fingers into his hair and bring my mouth to his ear, where I breathe heavily for a moment. “Whose pussy tastes better?” I whisper. “Hers, or mine?”

The rumble in his chest, and the twitch of his cock against my thigh, tell me what I want to know, but I still feel a rush of endorphins as he says, without hesitation, “Yours.”

I smile againsts his cheek. This is power.