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Boring.

BORING.

I hear Sylvia’s scoff. The sneer on her lips as she’d curse at me.

You’re so fucking dull, Bryce. It’s pathetic.

You weren’t like this when we met, Bryce. Believe me, if you were, I’d never have married you.

The slam of her bedroom door. The rolls of her eyes whenever she was scathing me silently out in public. Her puppy dog impression whenever Bill’s name appeared as an incoming call on my phone.

Safe.

Boring.

Safe.

BORING.

I’m sweaty under my shirt at the thought of Jack sliding into Alice’s pussy. Just the two of them, having fun. My cock is hard all over again and I’m angry at the thought of her bucking against him, kissing him like the horny little minx I’ve been craving for years.

Safe.

BORING.

I try to walk past the cab, staring ahead down the street, back towards the security of my apartment, but my feet betray me. They’re like bricks of steel that won’t move.

Safe

Safe.

Sensible. Sane. Reliable. Practical.

Boring.

Soulless.

Empty.

Just like my apartment.

Vacant where life should be.

The cab driver winds down his window.

“After a ride?”

Oh, the parallel. Yes. I am after a ride. Lots of rides, with riders that drive me insane.

Maybe Jack’s place will be empty, and I’ll be wrong. He could be out for all I know, chasing fresh ass or pussy. Or both.

But I have to try.

Just to ring the buzzer. Just to see.

I could just stay for a coffee. Have a bit of a chat. See how Alice was before she left. If she left.

“Chelsea Tower,” I say. “West Corner.”