Now I feel like a child going to a mysterious cave. I'm scared. I'm scared and interesting at the same time. I stretched out my hand in front of me and walked into impenetrable, mute blackness. I am weak and helpless - I see nothing, I do not feel it, I just anticipate the end of the road. Ahead is either a cherished gift, or a beast devouring flesh and soul. The voice of reason shackles the body and thoughts, does not allow to dream. He screams inside with burning horror: “Where are you ?! There is a beast! There just like a beast - run! ”. But I don’t go forward anymore. I stood at the entrance for too long and looked into alluring darkness ...

What happened is what happened. I cheated on my wife. Changed in the fullest sense of the word - slept with another woman. Heading to the salon, I did not expect just such a development of events, but, to tell the truth, I was glad it happened.

I was a little disturbed by the fact that we were not protected. But, as they say, that was, that was - time not to turn back. And even if I, knowing everything in advance, and could wind off a couple of hours into the past, I would not have done it anyway.

It was sunny weather. In the car played the radio. I was driving around the city in a raised insistence. I looked around, admired the summer cityscape, not knowing that today was a turning point in my life.

In the evening before returning home, I was overwhelmed with feelings similar to those that embraced a drunken teenager who came late from the disco — I wouldn’t betray myself with my own behavior. I thought that women are very sensitive to such things, intuitively notice them.

But as it turned out, I'm still a scoundrel. I behaved naturally with my wife: I kissed him on duty at the meeting, told me the details of the working day (of course, keeping silent about the most interesting), had dinner, went to bed - no suspicion.

Life went on as usual. I woke up, went to work, returned home. To be faithful, I passed the tests that were basic in such cases. To my joy, everything was okay. So a week has passed.

At first, for myself, I decided that what happened should be forgotten and live on. It seems to me that everyone who has once stumbled thinks so. But not for nothing they say, the forbidden fruit is sweet.

Before I left the salon, I asked Julia for a phone number, and she did not refuse my request. Knowing the phone number and name, I easily found her page on the social network.

And now I was sitting in front of a laptop monitor and scrolled through photos with the mouse wheel. They had a lot of them, like any pretty woman.

The girl in the photo was different - more everyday, without a lace corset and a languid image of an erotic fairy. It was already Julia, she was not hiding behind the mask of Eugenia. From the screen I was watched by a pretty, for example, student. In some photos she blew her lips for selfies, for some she happily smiled in the campaign of girlfriends. No open erotica. It was obvious that the owner of the page loved herself. She posed with pleasure, selecting the most successful angles, tried to seem bright and spectacular, superimposed trendy filters on the pictures. In each photo, where Yulia’s face was captured in close-up, in her eyes, despite her youth, there was an inexplicable read in words, but a sharply alluring shine - a shine of temptation, a shine of sin.

With a staring, masculine gaze, I snatched what I needed from the total mass of color pictures. Here the hip flashes above the knee, here is the roundness of the ass in tight-fitting jeans, here is a slightly deeper cutout in the decollete zone. The desire to call her increased with every minute of viewing. The illusions that the act of a week ago is an exception to the rules, and in the future, I will keep my wife faithful, completely dispelled in me.

Probably the attacker experiences something like this when he is preparing to go to work: he develops a plan, looks for instruments of crime, prepares an alibi for himself.

In the morning, I purchased an inexpensive smartphone and a new SIM card in the mobile phone salon. I knew that all employees would be on the road, and no one would interfere with my call to my “close” friend. Conveniently sitting in the work chair, I picked up the phone, opened the empty phone book and put the first contact “Yulia” into it. For a while I was slow - I was looking at the female name on the phone screen, and then I clicked on the green icon with a schematically depicted handset.

Send hooters - the heart sank. At that moment, for some reason, it seemed to me that she would be very happy to hear me, as if all these days she was just waiting for my call.

“Alo,” was heard at that end.

(A female voice pulled me out of the stream of thoughts. It was her voice).

- Hello. This is Vlad, remember me.

- Vlad? What is Vlad?

- We met a week ago. You gave me a number, I promised to call.

- Have met ... a week ago? Where?

The girl's voice became concentrated, she was obviously trying to remember who I was. In order not to put her in a ticklish situation, I clarified:

- You are alone? Are you comfortable talking now?

(Pause...).

- Yes.

- We met in a massage parlor, remember? Closely met ...

(Pause...).

- Oh, hello. I thought you wouldn't call.

- I called. I wanted it.

(Pause...).

- Why?

The question was unexpected, not typical of our dialogue, and I was a little confused. I answered ingenuously - the first thing that came to mind:

- I liked you.

- Why? - she continued.

There were notes of pofigism in her voice. This, contrary to my expectations, touched the male ego, but I thought it was a normal defensive reaction on her part. Moreover, such a tone only provoked me and mobilized. The first slight excitement receded. My thinking became working (rational), and the speech was staged and confident. In mind formed a clear goal.

- I really liked Zhenya, but I would like to get acquainted with Julia.

“We have already met,” the sound of the voice changed from the indifferent to the doubter.

- Yulia, you understand what I mean. I'm not calling the massage parlor, I'm calling you, ”I said softly, but confidently. “You didn't just give me your personal number?” Do you remember what you asked me about?

- About what? - interest appeared in her voice.

- pick you up.

(Again a pause ... longer than the rest ...)

Suddenly on that end there was some kind of fuss. My interlocutor is clearly distracted. In the tube in the background, there was a man’s voice in a low voice. The intonation of the voice was interrogative, irritated, but I didn’t make out what exactly was said, managing to hear only:

-... hurry up.

And she spoke again. This time her words sounded somewhere far away and were not addressed to me:

- Yes! Yes, Anka is calling ... Yeah, about the evening ... Yes, I understood.

Further loud and clear:

- Anyut cat, I'll call you back.

I was thrown off, the characteristic short beeps were heard in the receiver.

Everything, in general, was obvious. Our conversation was interrupted by a young man and, judging by the fact that she called me the female name “Anya” (probably the name of a girlfriend), for Julia, this young man is at least not a stranger.

Boyfriend husband Who cares ... I, on the one hand, it was even on hand. I have changed my wife with her, but she, it turns out, is not holy, I reasoned. In addition, the girl in a relationship will not expect too much from the affair on the side. The conversation finale was encouraging - she promised to call back.

Damn, I thought, she works in a "jerk" and is in a relationship with a guy. I wonder if he knows about this? A week ago, she gave me at the first meeting, and when I called, I didn’t even immediately understand who I was. Lying to her boyfriend, encrypted - yes, judging by the scenario, she's still a slut. From this thought, a sweet languor swept through my body, lustful pictures from my visit to the salon flashed in my head. I got up, closed the office door from the inside, returned to the workplace, in a new tab I downloaded the popular porn site, got my cock out of my pants and started masturbating, ...