"That's an excellent sale for one day. This is what we usually make in a whole week. Good job, Lily. Cough, cough."
Marcus rubbed his chest like an old man with half a lung missing, but his smile was real. He looked at her with genuine pride, even as the wheezing made it sound like he was about to keel over.
"H-how did you manage to convince that customer, though?"
Lily froze mid-step. Her smile twitched like it was stitched on by a drunk tailor. She quickly spat out the story, all neat and polished, with big chunks of truth missing.
The kind of chunks where she was bent over the counter, panting into her own hands while someone's fingers worked overtime between her legs. Yeah, no way in hell she was confessing that part.
Marcus listened like some wise old sage, nodding slowly, eyes narrowing as if he was trying to see through the makeup she smeared over the truth.
Then he finally leaned back and sighed.
"Good guy, I suppose. Didn't make a fuss, did honest work, even split the profit. If it was someone else, they would have evicted us all on the spot. Phew."
He tapped the table with his knuckle, then tilted his head, squinting at her.
"By the way… it was honest work, right?"
Lily's whole face went scarlet, hotter than the damn stove.
'Wait! Does he know?!'
But then she just closed her eyes.
'No. That can't be. He is a vegetable when it comes to intuitions. He wouldn't know it.'
She opened her eyes, and swung her fist and smacked his shoulder.
"W-what! What do you mean, husband!"
"Ouch! alright, sorry, sorry."
Marcus laughed nervously, clutching his shoulder and holding up both hands like he was about to be arrested.
"It's just… too good to be true, that's all."
Lily bit her lip, hard enough to almost leave a mark, forcing her chest to rise and fall slow, steady, normal.
But her body didn't care about normal. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a blacksmith's hammer, and down below… god, she could still feel it.
The sticky warmth, the damp cling of her panties, the phantom touch of those shameless fingers that had squeezed her until she was dripping like a broken faucet.
She pressed her thighs together under the table, hoping the fabric would hide the wetness.
Praying Marcus wouldn't lean too close and smell her. Her husband's eyes were still on her, curious, trusting, and that only made it worse.
Of course she couldn't tell him the truth.
How could she open her mouth and say she had been spread out over a counter like a common slut, moaning for another man's touch while pretending to talk business.
No. She had come here today with a decision carved into her chest, she wasn't going to open the shop anymore.
She was afraid. Afraid she would lose herself, piece by piece.
One time was already too much. Any more and she wasn't sure she'd ever crawl her way back out.
But Marcus, sitting opposite her with his wheezy chest, gave her a weak smile.
"Work with the kid more, Lily. We need the money for medicine and everything."
"Wh-what…"
"If he can bring this much in one day, he can do more."
Her shoulders slumped, heavy as bricks. He was right. Damn it, he was right. They needed the money.
But the thought of being alone with Alex again… her thighs squeezed shut like they were guarding state secrets.
If that bastard got his hands on her one more time, her pussy pulsed like a ticking bomb.
'Damn, why now… why the hell now.'
Her body was betraying her faster than a snitch in a tavern brawl. She needed a release, anything to get rid of this unbearable ache.
Her gaze dipped lower, right where it shouldn't. Her eyes landed on her husband's crotch, and just the faint outline under his robes made her mouth dry.
Images flashed—wrong, forbidden, desperate images—and she licked her lips before she could stop herself.
Leaning forward, her voice dropped to a sultry whisper.
"Honey… if you want, we can do it, you know."
Marcus nearly fell off his chair, coughing like he'd inhaled firewood smoke.
"W-what are you saying, wife. I can't even move, let alone… move that guy down there."
She laughed, quick and high-pitched, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Just kidding."
Her cheeks burned, and her thighs pressed even tighter together under the table. Only she knew it wasn't really a joke.
"W-what? Why are you suddenly h-horn--"
Before Marcus could wheeze out another word, Lily shot up from her chair, smoothing her dress like she was just excusing herself politely.
But her legs carried her faster than manners ever could. She practically bolted down the hall and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
The lock clicked. Her back slid down the cool wall.
And then—her skirt flew up, panties shoved aside, thighs spread wide open like her body had been waiting for this exact second. Her fingers dove straight into her soaked pussy, slick noises echoing in the cramped space.
"Ahhh… damn it… mmphh~"
Her other hand clamped over her mouth, then she bit down on her own shoulder, muffling the shameless moans.
She was dripping, soaking her hand, the tile, everything. Her hips bucked on their own, desperate to chase every wave of guilty relief that surged through her.
In her mind, it wasn't her hand. No, it was his fingers again, rough and teasing, knowing exactly where to squeeze, where to slide.
"Alex… you bastard…"
She hissed under her breath, shaking, cumming hard enough her heels banged against the bathroom floor.
When it was finally over, she slumped against the wall, chest heaving, pussy still twitching around her slippery fingers.
'God… I'm such a mess…'
And yet, deep down, she knew this was only the beginning.