Zoe had been in a bad mood all day. She knew it radiated off her like a beam to the customers that came to her shop. She barely responded to their friendly attempts at small talk, only emitting one-word answers, or sometimes even just a nod or a weak smile. Normally she was very good at looking after customers, always happy to help out and asking them about their day, but today she just didn't care.
She was pissed at Mark, her husband of eighteen months. Twice in a row now she'd thrown herself at him, trying to rekindle the spark that had quickly faded after the novelty of being married had worn off, and twice now he'd rejected her. Last night she had waited for him to get back late from work. She had squeezed herself into some lingerie that normally she would find terrifying, worn heels that she could barely walk in, and she had curled her hair and put on a full face of make-up that vaguely resembled the 1950's pin-up models from the calendars that Mark had always liked.
She waited with excitement and nervous anticipation for his reaction, imagining things would play out just like they would in a film. He would walk through the door, take one look at her, drop his briefcase and lift her over his shoulder and carry her to bed with animalistic urgency before he ravaged her all night long.
But no, he had come in, shaking the rain from his thick, dark hair, sighing tiredly as he took off his coat and dumped his briefcase in the hallway. He did a double take when he saw Zoe leaning seductively over the sofa, and told her she looked amazing before apologising and saying he had a killer headache and needed to go lie down. With that, he hurried up the stairs, leaving Zoe standing alone in the dark, numb with shock and fighting off angry tears from the embarrassment.
She had tried things again the next morning. Mornings had always used to be their time. He kissed her back as she woke him up by brushing her lips against his, but as her hand started wandering up his thigh, he jumped up to get ready for work, and headed straight into the shower.
They had been seeing a marriage counsellor for a few weeks now. Zoe had even mentioned their dwindling sex life as part of their problems. Everything had gone so dull and predictable, all following the same routine. They would take their clothes off, kiss for a few minutes, give each other one form of foreplay, have sex (always in the missionary position) and then fall asleep.
Zoe wasn't an animal. Normal, vanilla sex would be fine if there was just the odd occasion where he grabbed her in the same you're so irresistible I must have you now way that he used to. She missed the spontaneity, being unpredictable, being kept on her toes. She had voiced this at their sessions with the counsellor, and Mark had vowed to try harder to spice things up a bit. But here she stood: angry, frustrated and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him – or her.
The day had dragged. Zoe longed for 5 o'clock when she could close the shop, head home and change into her baggiest pyjamas and watch crap TV for the couple of hours before Mark came back and she could confront him about being such a frigid little bitch.
She heard a customer come in as she was arranging some stock in the back room. She went out to greet them, plastering on a fake welcoming smile before she left the room.
"Hi there-"
Her greeting was cut short as she found Mark stood by the front door. The weather had been warm all day and he had taken off his suit jacket, leaving only his white shirt rolled up to the sleeves, his dark blue tie and his black trousers.
"What are you doing here?" Zoe asked, folding her arms across her chest.
Mark strode over to her and in one swift motion, placed one hand on each side of her face and kissed her. Zoe didn't even have time to unfold her arms or push him away. When he pulled away, Mark was grinning down at her, which only reminded Zoe of how angry she was.
"You've got some nerve showing up here-"
"Shh," he whispered, placing a finger over her lips, "you've been very patient, Zoe. I think it's time I rewarded you for that."
"What?"
His big, brown eyes were gleaming, and she could feel the hardness straining against his trousers.
"Come on, Zoe, you really think I didn't want to fuck you last night when you looked so amazing? And this morning too?"
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I had this little visit all planned out. I want to surprise you and I thought a couple of days of build up might just make it that more exciting. But damn, I had my work cut out saying no to you last night! Why do you think I practically had to run away from you?"
"You didn't stop to think about just telling me all this instead of letting me think something was wrong?"
"And ruin the surprise? Hell no. Besides, you're so damn cute when you're angry."
"Don't patronise me, Mark!"
He laughed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Alright then, you're so damn cute when you're desperate for a fuck."
Zoe irritated herself by smiling. She could already feel her anger fading away, replaced with a longing for him that she could tell he felt for her too, connecting them together with invisible strands.
"I still don't see why we couldn't have just fucked both nights."
He laughed again, before leaning in to whisper in her ear, pushing his cock right up against her.
"Because naughty girls can't just be fucked whenever they like now, can they? They have to earn it."
His words made her knees weak and her stomach flutter. He knew she had a soft spot for the dirty talk.
"Lock the door, Zoe."
"But I'm supposed to be open for another fifteen minutes."
