Lapdog

Jackson sits in his car, phone pressed to his ear, feeding his client the usual line. He hangs up, slides out, and gets closer to the window. Inside, Jennifer stretches in tight workout gear, body flexing, ink catching the light. Day after day he watches, snaps photos, but the job starts feeling different. He finds himself hard just seeing her move around the house, oblivious to the eyes on her. Weeks in, he knocks. She opens, polite, curious. He keeps it steady, says he works for her husband, needs to talk, asks to come in. She hesitates, then steps aside. Once he's there he lays it out: her husband wanted proof she was stepping out. Jackson tells her the truth—he's seen none. Says her husband should be grateful, not paranoid. She’s fucking gorgeous, any guy would kill to keep her. Jackson offers her an out. Says he’ll cover for her if she wants to cheat, with him or anyone else. He doesn’t care who she fucks, just wants her free.