I pulled my head free from Robert’s grip, gazing up at him from below, my voice trembling with need. “Please, fuck me,” I begged. He helped me to my feet, deftly freeing my dripping pussy from the fabric of my panties, and guided me to kneel on his bed. Positioning himself behind me, he aligned his swollen cock with my aching entrance, the tip brushing against my thick labia. With one deep thrust, he buried himself inside me, igniting a fireworks of pleasure. Stars exploded behind my eyes, my core pulsed with delight at his invasion, and every cell in my body was swept into a haze of sweat and primal desire, inescapable and all-consuming. His strong hands clamped onto my hips, anchoring me as he thrust harder, each movement driving me closer to the edge. My pussy teetered on the brink of ecstasy when he suddenly pulled out, his firm hands flipping me onto my back. In the missionary position, he took me again, his breaths growing heavier as the first wave of my orgasm crashed over me. I was swept away like never before, the sensation of his cock filling me, pushing me into new realms of lust with every powerful thrust. I came for the third time in a row as he withdrew, his pulsating cock erupting, spraying his cum in several spurts across my body. Most of it landed on my breasts, my dark nipples straining toward the ceiling, but my face and shoulder-length blonde hair weren’t spared either. He collapsed beside me, reaching for a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand and lighting it. I’d never smoked and had no intention of starting. My path led me from the bed to the small bathroom. After relieving myself, I stood before the sink, staring at my flushed face in the mirror, wiping away the sticky traces of his release. I dressed and left Robert, still sprawled exhausted on the bed.

That evening, I confessed my infidelity to Miriam. She didn’t judge me, only asked, “Do you want to see Robert again?”

I couldn’t answer definitively. The sex was something special, a raw intensity I hadn’t felt in years, but after the long drought with Dennis, it wasn’t enough. Robert wasn’t the lover I’d dreamed of—more enduring than Dennis, better endowed, but not someone I could see myself with regularly. Besides, I was back on Miriam’s couch, my problems weighing as heavily as ever. Still, the afternoon had sparked a new energy in me, and I made another attempt to talk to Dennis, hoping to find a solution. As usual, he brushed me off, muttering about “later.” But later came seconds later. I’d had enough. Storming into the hallway, I saw him engrossed in his online game. Knowing the router needed power to connect, I yanked the plug and hurled it out the window.

Within seconds, Dennis was in the hallway, yelling at me, his face red with rage. That was it—the final straw. I’d become invisible to him, eclipsed by his damn games. Our argument exploded, no real conversation, just a fiery clash that marked the end of our relationship in my eyes. He could do whatever he wanted—I was done. I threw that truth in his face, but Dennis barely reacted, his only focus the door and the missing router cable.

I retreated to our bedroom, locked the door, and sank onto the bed. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dialed Miriam. “You again?” she said, surprise tinged with amusement. “Another hookup to spill about? Tell your lover to take his time.”

“No hookup,” I snapped, my voice tight with frustration. “Do you have a bed for me?”

“Of course I do, Laura. Need a ride?” she asked.

“Just a bag. I can take the streetcar.”

“No arguments, Laura. I’m sending a friend to pick you up. I’ll have ice cream and a movie ready. We’ll figure out tomorrow.”

Miriam knew from my tone what had happened—she didn’t need to ask. We’d known each other for years, been through everything together. She’d always said one call was enough to crash at her place, a promise that held even through my teenage spats with Dennis. She was my rock, always ready to listen, advise, or let me cry. Unlike me, she’d only had one serious relationship, lasting a few months, living most of her life without a steady partner.

I grabbed a travel bag from the closet and packed some clothes. Less than half an hour later, Miriam texted that her friend was waiting outside in a car. When I opened the bedroom door, Dennis was back at his computer, headset on, the router cable plugged in again. His life clearly revolved around that damn box. The fact that I paid the bills with my money only fueled my anger. Snorting, I slammed the door behind me and stepped outside.

Miriam hadn’t oversold her friend. A large SUV was parked in front of the building, and a mountain of a man leaned against it, puffing cigarette smoke into the evening sky. Seeing me, he tossed the butt aside and asked, “You okay?” I nodded curtly, and he took my bag, opened the passenger door, and let me slide into the new-smelling car. He stowed my bag in the trunk, squeezed behind the wheel, and drove to Miriam’s in silence.

At her apartment, he stopped, turned on the hazard lights, and got out. As I opened the passenger door, he retrieved my bag from the trunk and carried it to Miriam’s door. She opened it, pulling me into a tight hug. Her friend set the bag inside, caught her grateful glance, and left without a word.

Later, on her couch, we talked about the evening. We didn’t dwell on the fight with Dennis. Miriam offered me a place to stay as long as I needed, but I’d already made up my mind. Dennis could keep the apartment—I was done. The next day, I’d cut off his financial lifeline, canceling the internet and redirecting my salary. He’d have to fend for himself if he wanted rent, food, or his precious games. I was through wasting my time.

Miriam was more curious about my infidelity. I recounted every detail of my encounter with Robert, the memory reigniting that pleasant tingling between my legs, making me ache. She noticed, smirking. “You don’t have to hold back anymore, Laura. You’re free to have all the fun you’ve been missing.”

I hadn’t considered that advantage. It was late when I finally crawled into bed, my mind buzzing with possibilities.

The next morning, I jolted upright when I saw the time on the digital clock—past noon. My phone showed missed calls from my boss. I’d silenced it the night before and forgotten to set an alarm. Miriam, already awake, laughed. “I called your boss and got you a sick note. You’re off until next week, so chill.”

“I need a real sick note, or I’ll lose my job,” I protested.

“Relax, it’s already handled. I sent it to your boss this morning—why else would I let you sleep so long?” she grinned.

Over breakfast in the early afternoon, she explained. Next to my plate was my health insurance card—she’d taken it from my wallet that morning and given the details to a doctor friend who issued the sick note. “You’re nuts,” I scolded. “He can’t just write a sick note without seeing me!”

“Sure he can,” Miriam laughed. “Be glad I only asked for a week. He could’ve given you one for a year if I’d pushed.”

“He’s breaking the law, Miriam. No exam, no sick note.”

“Quit whining. With the right nudge, he’d do more. You’ve got stuff to sort out today, and I didn’t want you stressed after work. This way, you’ve got time, and next week, you’re back at your desk like nothing happened.”

I’d never faked a sick day before. Miriam did it to give me breathing room, but it didn’t sit right. My job was my lifeline—without it, I couldn’t afford anything, and my dream of opening a travel agency would slip further away. Feeding Dennis had already drained me, but that was over now. With an affordable apartment, I could start saving.

Since Miriam wasn’t working, she tagged along as I headed downtown, determined to cut Dennis off. For too long, I’d bankrolled our life with my meager salary. He barely went to his waiter job anymore, too busy with his games. I’d been covering rent and groceries alone. My plan hit a snag, though—our joint account gave him access too. Closing it required his consent, and opening a new one would take days. Miriam pulled me aside. “Want to screw that idiot over right now?”

“Of course,” I said. “No point waiting for him to blow the money on junk.”

“Open a new account in your name and withdraw everything in cash,” she said. “You can survive a few days without a debit card. Use my money until then.”

“You sure you can cover that?”

She nodded, flashing her credit card. “I’ve got about three times your monthly salary in there. We’ll manage.”

“Okay, but why withdraw it? Can’t I just transfer it?”

“A transfer can be reversed easily,” she explained. “Cash it out, deposit it in your new account, and he’s got no way to touch it.” The bank employee nodded approvingly.

Miriam’s savvy blew me away—she knew exactly what to do. Her support was incredible, though I wondered where she got all this know-how. She was a makeup artist, not a banker, but she handled it like a pro. She’d always been the decisive one, while I dragged my feet and, as she put it, let myself be manipulated too easily. Looking at the mess with Dennis, she was right.

By evening, I called our internet provider and canceled the contract, effective at the start of the next month—a little over a week away. Soon, Dennis would be stuck with a computer and no internet. With my salary redirected to my new account, he’d have no money for rent or electricity either. Miriam had more ideas: since rent and utilities were tied to our joint account, which would soon be empty, Dennis was about to rack up some serious debt.