The air was thick with sandalwood and smoke. Pink lava light pulsed softly in the shed, casting lazy shadows across the room. The three of them were sunk into the L-shaped sofa: Aaron, Callum, and Ashley, her bare legs curled beneath her like a cat soaking up warmth.

Aaron passed the joint to Callum with a knowing grin. "He needs it. Been too long since he's smiled."

Callum smirked, eyes half-lidded from the haze, but it wasn’t the weed that had him warm. It was her. Ashley.

She laughed at something Aaron said, her blouse shifting just slightly as she leaned forward, revealing a sliver more of soft skin than necessary. Not intentional, not obvious—just enough to haunt a man.

Callum remembered when they first met, back when Ashley was just the sweet, sharp girl who barely noticed him. She was still sweet, but something had shifted. She was grown now. Slim, delicate. An almost ethereal mix of cute and sensual. Her shirts clung lightly to the swell of her chest, always loose enough to seem innocent.

But nothing about her was innocent.

"You should get back on the saddle," she said suddenly, locking her big, brown eyes on him.

Callum blinked. "What?"

"Dating. You. It’s been, what, a year? Maybe you just forgot how to flirt."

He chuckled, but his mouth was dry. Ashley stretched slightly, her top rising just enough to hint at the curve of her waist.

Aaron laughed, draping an arm around her. "Don’t let her bully you. She’s just projecting."

"I am not," she pouted, then turned to Callum. "C'mere. I’ll remind you what a hug feels like."

He hesitated. Then leaned in.

She hugged tight, too tight. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her perfume hit him in a wave—sweet, soft, addictive. Aaron cleared his throat.

"Alright, alright. Getting cozy now."

Ashley pulled back and flashed a guilty smile. "Don't act like you're not into it, Aaron. Your porn history begs to differ."

Callum snorted. Aaron winced.

Ashley turned to Callum. "You ever heard of 'hotwife'? It's all over Aaron's tabs."

"Ashley," Aaron warned.

She feigned confusion. "It’s when two guys... like, go at it while the woman watches?"

Callum laughed. "Not quite. It’s usually the woman with two guys. And... she’s the focus."

"Oh," she said, biting her lip. "Sounds intense."

Aaron shifted. Callum noticed. So did she.

Ashley stretched again, slowly, like a feline, then casually asked, "So what happens to the girl in the middle? Does she just, like... sit there?"

Aaron groaned. "Skiing, Ash. It's called skiing."

"Ooooh!" Her hands moved in an up-down motion. "Like holding poles? Got it."

She laughed at her own gesture, but her fingers moved a little too smoothly, her chest swaying just enough.

Callum couldn’t speak.

"So she does this... and then what?" she asked, leaning back against the sofa, her thin cotton top shifting as she did. Callum reached to guide her shoulder gently and his knuckles brushed the curve of her breast.

Time froze.

He jolted. "Sorry."

Ashley gasped theatrically and covered herself—then slowly let her fingers trace the curve again, as if absentminded.

"Careful," she whispered. "I'm delicate."

Aaron was frozen, caught between laughter and arousal.

Ashley turned to him, leaning close. "Does that stuff turn you on? All that fantasy?"

Aaron swallowed. "Only if you like it."

Ashley giggled, then leaned over and whispered something. Callum couldn't hear it. But the way Aaron's expression shifted—darkened—spoke volumes.

Later, when Callum rose to go to bed, she hugged him again. This time even tighter, her breasts pressed to his chest, her pelvis far too close.

She pulled back, resting on tiptoes to whisper: "I have something I need to talk about. Come Monday. Alone."

That night...

Aaron and Ashley lay side by side in bed, the world silent but for their breathing. She curled against him, tracing circles on his chest.

"You were hard the whole night," she whispered.

"You made it hard not to be."

She laughed softly. "You like watching, don’t you?"

He turned to her. "More than that. I like knowing you’re in control. That you could... if you wanted to."

She reached into the drawer and took out the small silver locket. "Then give it to me again. The rules. The promise."

Aaron fastened it around her neck, fingers trembling.

"When you wear this," he said, "our rules are suspended. You can act out the fantasies... even if I’m not there."

She rolled onto her back, lifting the hem of his shirt she wore. She wore nothing underneath.

"Film me," she whispered.

Aaron reached for his phone. She knelt at the foot of the bed, eyes locked on the lens.

"Say it," he commanded.

"I wear this locket as a symbol of my freedom. Of my devotion to Aaron. I will obey his desires, and make his fantasies real."

She paused, sensing something.

Aaron got up, cracked the bedroom door open just enough.

"What are you doing?"

"He’s awake. I heard him. There's a chance he might catch a glimpse."

Ashley felt the thrill of it immediately. Exhibitionism wasn’t new, but this was different.

She positioned herself on all fours on the bed, back arched, the curve of her behind perfectly lit by the bedside lamp.

Aaron filmed. She turned her head slightly toward the door, knowing.

"This," she said clearly, "is what Callum would see."

Her voice trembled with lust.

She moved slowly, suggestively. Aaron couldn’t believe how turned on he was. Her eyes didn’t blink. They stared straight toward the door.

Then the hallway creaked.

She smiled. Someone was there.

Her hands moved sensually down her sides.

But then the creak faded.

She collapsed slowly onto the sheets, panting.

"He left."

Aaron moved beside her, turned off the camera. "Did you want him to stay?"

She didn’t answer.

Monday.

Callum knocked.

Ashley opened the door in jeans and a loose blouse, her hair up, her lips slightly bitten. "Thanks for coming."

"You said you wanted to talk."

"Yeah. It's Aaron's birthday soon. I want to do something special."

She led him to the living room. Laptop open. Tabs everywhere.

"Look," she said. "I found all this... stuff. Hotwife videos. Roleplay. Fantasies. It's overwhelming."

She sat cross-legged, then adjusted her position, blouse slipping slightly.

"I mean," she continued, "do guys actually want their wife to... do things? With other men?"

Callum blinked. "Some do. It’s a kink."

"Aaron watches this stuff. A lot. But I don't know what it means."

She scooted closer. Their knees touched. She looked up at him.

"Would it be weird," she said, almost whispering, "if I kissed you right now? Like... as research?"

Callum didn’t breathe.

"I mean," she laughed nervously, "we’re friends. It’d be like kissing your sister."

"No," Callum said. "Not even close."

She held his gaze. Let the silence stretch.

Then she leaned in.

Their lips met. Softly. Slowly. Her hand grazed his thigh. She pulled back just enough to whisper:

"You can touch me. If it helps."

Callum did. Carefully. Her blouse shifted more.

And then she stood.

"Wait here," she said. "I need to show you something."

She returned a moment later with a small box. A necklace.

"Aaron gave this to me. Said it was a symbol. That when I wore it, all rules were... suspended."

She handed it to him.

"Put it on me."

His hands trembled.

She turned, lifting her hair. The clasp clicked.

She turned back.

"Tell me what to do, Callum. Tell me your deepest desires."

His mouth was dry.

He stepped forward.

"Start by kneeling," he said.

She smiled. Obedient. Deliciously, dangerously obedient.

And everything changed.