Betrayed? Pack Your Bags and Get Out!

Boris is panting with desire. Above him, in an acrobatic stance, his fitness trainer froze—her tense arms trembling slightly as they hold, poised in the air, a slender young body with her legs spread in a split.

“Come on, then, my little doll…” the scoundrel lispers, overcome with excitement.

I hate it when someone surpasses me in anything. Kristina didn’t just take my husband—she went after my sense of dignity as well. A wild thought creeps into my mind.

“Wonder if she can manage it in the dark?!”

The thought has barely come, and my hand is already pressing the light switch.

The lights go out. I quickly vanish into the dark hallway.

Behind me I hear the savage howl of my beloved’s pet and the squealing of his “Barbie.” I smile maliciously. The acrobat’s “talent” is clearly exaggerated. In the dark, the fitting must have been yanked loose at the wrong moment. And the bolt—judging by Boris’s screams—has been mercilessly broken.