Chapter 26 SLUTTY SISTER IN-LAW
I have been married to my pretty wife four years now, no kids just us and our career. Everything looked great on social media, nice house, steady jobs, we were the perfect couple.
All this didn't last, the cracks were starting to show especially after work.
Most weeknights played out the same.
I would return home around six-thirty and find Mira already on the couch, laptop balanced on her thigh, glasses sliding down her nose.
I do miss the times all wak in and she'll come running into my arms.
But this time she’d look up and smile, genuine and warm, but there was always exhaustion written on her face.
“Hey babe,” she would say, leaning over for a quick kiss. “How was your day?”
Yeah, we would chit-chat about work for a while: her endless meetings, my frustrating clients and all that except our personal life.
We did that while I made dinner or ordered takeout, she wokeep typing with one hand ,answering emails even as we ate at the coffee table.
By nine, she was still working. I’d finish cleaning up, pour us each a glass of wine, and slide onto the couch next to her.
I make my move slowly starting with my hand on her knee, tracing lazy circles up her thigh, kissing the side of her neck the way I knew used to make her wet.
Tonight was no different.
Jane was putting on soft gray shorts and an old college tee, legs tucked under her. I leaned closer, brushing the spot just below her ear with my lips.
“You've been staring at the screen all day,” I murmured. “Come to bed, Let me make you feel better.”
She let out a small tired laugh, still focused on her laptop. “I wish Babe. But I've got this presentation tomorrow and my boss moved the deadline up, gosh I'm so behind time.”
I didn’t give up, I moved my fingers higher, tugging the edge of her shorts. “It'll just be for twenty minutes. Come on, Mira. I miss you.”
She shifted slightly from me, closing the laptop halfway but not fully.
“Will…I'm exhausted and my brain's fried. I just need to finish this section, okay? Maybe after?”
That “maybe after” had become our routine. I wait hoping she comes, something I sleep off and most of the time she would keep working until midnight then drag herself upstairs lay on the bed and would be asleep the second her head hitbthe pillow.
Some nights I'd try again once we were under the cozy blankets, spooning her with my hands slipping under her tank top, pressing against her butt so she could feel how hard I was.
“Baby,” my voice soft, kissing her shoulder. “Just a quick one. I need you.”
She sighed softly and rolled towards me just enough to kiss my cheek. “I'm sorry, honey. I'm literally falling asleep. I promise. I'll be better tomorrow.”
Well, tomorrow would come and I'll get she’s stressed. Or on her period. Or she's just not in the mood.
She actually did love me. She showed it in other ways, like making my coffee the way I liked it, leaving little notes in my lunch when she packed. But the physical side, our sex life was quietly dying.
We haven't had sex in seven weeks, maybe eight. I stopped keeping exact count because it hurt too much whenever I thought of it.
Sometimes I wondered if I was being selfish. She worked hard even harder than me, to the point she was ecstacy. I got it. I didn’t want to pressure her.
But I missed the way we used to be back when she’d text me from work saying she can't wait to grind me, we never made it through the door before clothes hits the floor.
Now it felt like we were more like roommates who cuddled occasionally. Yeah.
One night, Jane metioned Melissa was thinking of coming for a long weekend visit. “She was dying to see the new house!” I smiled and said it sounded great.
I had no idea what was coming, how much I had been craving for sex.
The house was quiet on Tuesday evening, I was on the couch scrolling through my phone, keeping my mind occupied with social media, trying not to think about how long it was since Mira and I did anything more than peck goodnight.
She came in from the kitchen looking excited but tired.
“Hey Love, guess what?” She said, handing me a glass of wine. “Melissa just texted, she's coming to visit next weekend!”
I took the wine, forcing a casual tone. “Yeah? That’s great. How long will she stay?”
“From Thursday night till Monday morning. A nice long weekend.” Jane took a sip of wine. “She's been dying to see the house, and I do miss her like crazy.”
I was already picturing it. Melissa is Jane’s older sister by three years. She lives a couple states away, always popping up in Mira’s stories with energy she displayed.
I met Melissa severally at holidays, where Jane was soft-spoken, thoughtful, also the kind of beautiful you notice slowly. But Melissa? Melissa was… electric, tall like her sister but curvier. She had this effortless confidence in tight dresses, always on bold lipstick, the kind of woman who walked into a party and owned it without trying.
Jane said she was recently out of a messy relationship, She teased me mercilessly the few times we met: playful and flirty it felt harmless because she did it to everyone, but I would be lying If I said I didn't notice the way she looked at me a second longer than necessary or how long the hugs looks, just enough to make my pulse kick.
Jane kept talking, scrolling through her phone to show me the texts.
“She’s so excited. Says she needs a break from work drama and just wants to drink wine, eat junk food, and crash on our couch for four days straight.” Jane laughed. “I told her the guest room’s all hers. Oh, and she asked if you’re still as good at grilling as you were last time, huh? remember when you made those steaks at Mom and Dad’s?”
I smirked. “Yeah, I remember. She ate three of them and told me I was ‘dangerously competent’ with meat.”
Jane snorted. “That sounds exactly like Mel. She flirts with everyone, don’t take it personally.”
I didn’t answer right away. Just nodded, took a drink of my beer.
Because the truth was, I had taken it personally. In that way the male part of my brain noticed when a beautiful woman paid attention. And with the way things had been between Jane and me lately… I don’t know. The idea of Melissa in the house for four days straight felt like a spark near dry grass.
Jane leaned her head on my shoulder, oblivious. “It’ll be fun. You like Mel, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, voice steady. “She’s great.”
She really was.
And that was the problem.
I finished my beer, already feeling the slow coil of anticipation in my gut.