Chapter 3: Shopping, Shock, and a Shared Secret
The mall had been Karen's idea. Retail therapy, she'd called it. A distraction. Something to pull Melissa out of her own head after the gym and the mirror and the way Victor's hands had felt on her hips.
It wasn't working.
Melissa stood in the middle of a boutique, staring at a rack of silk blouses without seeing them. Her fingers moved over the fabric—cool, smooth, expensive—but her mind was somewhere else entirely. It was in a dark bedroom with a nightlight glowing. It was wrapped around the sound of Victor's voice, low and rough, saying things that made her stomach clench.
"Mel."
She blinked. Karen was standing beside her, holding up a dress that was either burgundy or mahogany, some shade of red that Melissa couldn't name. Her friend's expression was patient but pointed. The kind of look that said I know you're not here.
"What?"
"I asked you three times if you liked this."
"It's nice."
"It's nice." Karen hung the dress back on the rack. "That's what you say about your grandmother's china. Not a four-hundred-dollar dress."
Melissa rubbed her eyes. She hadn't slept. Every time she'd closed her eyes, she'd seen him. Every time she'd drifted off, she'd heard his voice. She'd woken up twice in the night, her hand between her legs, her underwear soaked through.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just tired."
"You said that last night. And this morning. And in the car."
"I am tired."
Karen studied her for a long moment. Then she sighed and looped her arm through Melissa's. "Come on. We're getting coffee. You're going to tell me what's actually going on, and I'm going to pretend to be shocked."
They found a café tucked between a perfume store and a shoe boutique. It was small and bright, all white marble and brass fixtures, with a menu that listed oat milk and lavender syrup and cold brew that cost more than Melissa's first car. They ordered iced coffees and took a table by the window. The sun was warm on Melissa's shoulders. The air smelled like espresso and vanilla.
She didn't touch her drink.
"Okay," Karen said, leaning back in her chair. "Spill."
Melissa wrapped her hands around the cold glass. The condensation was slick under her palms. She thought about lying. About saying she was stressed about David, about work, about anything other than the truth.
But Karen would see through it. She always did.
"I found something," she said. "Last night."
Karen raised an eyebrow. "Found something how?"
"On the internet."
"The internet." Karen's voice was flat. "That's specific."
Melissa took a breath. The words felt heavy in her throat, like stones she'd been carrying for too long. She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper.
"I was on this website. An amateur site. Just scrolling, you know? Not looking for anything specific."
"Sure."
"And I saw..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
Karen's eyebrow climbed higher. "You saw what?"
Melissa closed her eyes. The image was still there, burned into the back of her eyelids. The tan skin. The water droplets. The thick, heavy cock wrapped in a familiar hand.
"Victor," she whispered.
Karen didn't react. Not at first. She just stared, her iced coffee halfway to her lips, her expression frozen somewhere between confusion and disbelief.
"I'm sorry," she said. "What?"
"I saw Victor. On a porn site. His—his body. His face. Everything."
Karen set her drink down slowly. The glass made a soft click against the marble table. "You're joking."
"I wish I was."
"You're telling me you found your stepson's amateur porn?"
"Yes."
"On the internet?"
"Yes."
"By accident?"
"More or less."
Karen's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. She looked like a fish trying to process a particularly complicated piece of news.
"Holy shit," she finally said.
"I know."
"Holy fucking shit, Melissa."
"I know."
"This is..." Karen shook her head. "I don't even know what this is. This is insane. This is like something out of a bad movie. This is—wait. Wait." She held up a hand. "How did you know it was him? Like, are we talking face clearly visible? Or just a similar body type?"
Melissa's cheeks burned. "Face. Tattoo on his hip. The way he—" She stopped herself.
"The way he what?"
"The way he moves." She swallowed. "I've seen him in the gym. I know how he moves."
Karen leaned back in her chair. Her expression had shifted from shock to something else. Something calculating. Something almost hungry.
"Okay," she said. "We need to go to my house."
"What?"
"Now. We need to pull this up on my laptop and see exactly what we're dealing with."
"Karen—"
"I'm serious. This is too good. We need to watch it together."
Melissa's stomach flipped. "I can't."
"You can. You already did. What's one more time?"
"It's different when someone's watching."
Karen's grin was sharp and wicked. "That's the point."
---
Karen's house was a study in controlled elegance. Leather sofas, polished hardwood, candles that smelled like expensive things Melissa couldn't name. The windows looked out onto a backyard where Victor had laughed at a barbecue three weeks ago, his head thrown back, his throat exposed. Melissa remembered thinking he looked like something out of a cologne ad.
Now she couldn't look at the window without thinking about the video.
Karen set her laptop on the coffee table and pulled up the site. Melissa gave her the name—she'd memorized it, couldn't help herself—and watched as Karen typed it into the search bar.
The page loaded. Thumbnails filled the screen. Karen scrolled slowly, her eyes scanning each one.
"There," Melissa said. "Stop."
The video was still there. Pool Boy Part 2. The thumbnail showed Victor's torso, his hand wrapped around his cock. Karen clicked on it, and the player opened. She didn't press play. She just stared at the frozen image.
"That's him," she said. "That's definitely him."
"Yes."
"This is..." She shook her head. "This is a lot."
"I know."
"How many videos are there?"
Melissa's chest tightened. She hadn't checked. She'd been too afraid.
"I don't know."
Karen scrolled down. The page showed more videos from the same user. Pool Boy Part 1. Shower Strokes. Late Night Jerk. And then—
"Mel," Karen said. Her voice had gone quiet. "Look at this."
Melissa leaned in. The thumbnail showed a bedroom. Dim lighting. A woman's back arched against sheets. Her hand was gripping the pillow, and her wedding ring was clearly visible—a thin band, catching the light.
The title read: Smashing My Buddy's Mom While He's Asleep Down The Hall.
"Jesus Christ," Melissa whispered.
Karen didn't say anything. She just clicked play.
The video opened on darkness. A nightlight glowed in the corner, casting soft orange shadows across the room. The camera was positioned on a dresser or a shelf—somewhere high, looking down at the bed. The sheets were tangled. A man's snoring echoed from somewhere down the hall, faint but unmistakable.
Victor was behind the woman.
He was shirtless, his skin flushed in the dim light. His hands were on her hips, pulling her back against him. She was on her stomach, her face half-buried in a pillow, her fingers twisted in the fabric. She was trying to be quiet. Melissa could see it in the tension of her shoulders, the way she pressed her mouth into the pillow.
But she was failing.
"Shh," Victor murmured. His voice was low and rough, the kind of voice that made Melissa's thighs clench. "You don't want him to hear, do you?"
The woman shook her head. A muffled sound escaped her—half moan, half plea.
"Then you better be quiet."
He pushed into her slowly. The camera caught every inch—the way her body stretched around him, the way her back arched, the way her fingers dug into the sheets. She gasped into the pillow, her hips bucking back against him.
"Fuck," Karen breathed.
Melissa didn't say anything. She couldn't. Her eyes were locked on the screen, her heart pounding in her throat.
Victor moved with deliberate slowness. Each stroke was deep and measured, his hips rolling against her ass. His hand slid up her spine, fingers tracing the curve of her shoulder blades.
"You like that, Mrs. H?” he whispered. "You like my big cock inside your married pussy?"
The woman whimpered. Her legs spread wider. Her ring caught the light again, a tiny flash of gold against the white sheets.
"Answer me."
"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, I—"
"Say it."
"I love it. I love your cock."
Victor groaned. His pace quickened, his hips slapping against her ass. The sound was wet and obscene, cutting through the quiet of the room. The snoring down the hall continued, steady and oblivious.
"Look at you," he said. "Taking my cock like a good little slut. What would your husband say if he knew?"
The woman moaned. Her hand reached back, grabbing his thigh, pulling him deeper.
"He's right down the hall," Victor said. "Sleeping. And you're here, letting me fuck you raw. Doesn't that make you a dirty fucking MILF?"
"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes, I'm—"
"Come for me. Come on my cock."
Karen's hand drifted to her thigh. Melissa saw it out of the corner of her eye—the way her fingers pressed into the denim, the way her breathing had gone shallow. She didn't say anything. She didn't want to break the spell.
The woman on screen shuddered. Her whole body convulsed, her mouth open in a silent scream. Victor fucked her through it, his strokes getting faster, harder.
"That's it," he growled. "That's my good girl."
He pulled out. The camera caught his cock, slick and glistening, as he pumped himself once, twice, three times. Come splattered across her lower back, thick and white against her skin. She moaned at the feeling, her body still trembling.
Victor leaned down. His lips brushed her ear.
"Same time next week?"
The video ended.
Silence.
The laptop screen went dark, reflecting Melissa's face back at her. She looked flushed. Blown out. Like someone who'd just run a marathon.
Karen cleared her throat.
"Well," she said. Her voice was hoarse. "That was... educational."
Melissa closed the laptop. Her hands were shaking.
"I'm going to hell," she whispered.
Karen laughed. It was low and breathless, the kind of laugh that came from somewhere deep in the chest.
"Then I'm coming with you."
Melissa looked at her. Karen's cheeks were pink. Her lips were parted. She looked like she'd just been fucked—or like she wanted to be.
"Karen—"
"I'm serious." Karen leaned back on the sofa, stretching her arms over her head. The movement pulled her shirt tight across her chest. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen. And I'm not even into younger guys."
Melissa shook her head. "He's my stepson."
"He's a porn star."
"He's twenty-two."
"So?"
"So it's wrong."
Karen shrugged. "Wrong doesn't mean it's not hot."
Melissa stood up. Her legs felt unsteady, like she'd been sitting for too long. She walked to the window and stared out at the backyard. The grass was green. The pool was still. She could picture Victor there, shirtless in the sun, his skin damp with sweat.
"Does he know?" she asked.
"Does who know what?"
"Does Victor know I saw him?"
Karen considered this. "How would he? You didn't tell him."
"No."
"Then no."
Melissa pressed her forehead against the cool glass. "But what if he finds out? What if he—"
"Mel." Karen's voice was firm. "He uploaded those videos himself. He put them on the internet. He knows people can see them."
"That's different."
"Is it?"
Melissa turned around. Karen was watching her, that knowing look back in her eyes.
"What do I do?" Melissa asked.
"What do you want to do?"
"I want to forget I ever saw this."
"Liar."
Melissa flinched.
"You watched that whole video," Karen said. "You didn't look away once. And don't think I didn't notice your hands."
Melissa looked down. Her fingers were still curled, still trembling.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." Karen stood up. She crossed the room and stopped in front of Melissa, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "Look. I'm not going to tell you what to do. But I will say this."
She leaned in. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"That woman in the video. The one with the wedding ring. She wasn't pretending. She was loving every second of it. And so were you."
Melissa's breath caught.
"Think about that," Karen said. "Then think about what you're going to do the next time Victor looks at you."
She stepped back. The spell broke. Melissa exhaled, slow and shaky.
"I should go," she said.
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet."
Melissa grabbed her purse. She didn't look back as she walked to the door. But she felt Karen's eyes on her the whole way.
---
The drive home was a blur. The streets were crowded, the sun was setting, the radio was playing something slow and sad. Melissa didn't notice any of it. She was too busy thinking about the video.
The woman's wedding ring. The way she'd moaned. The way Victor had said dirty fucking MILF like it was a compliment.
And the way she'd felt watching it. The heat between her legs. The ache in her chest.
She pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. The house was dark—Victor was probably at the gym. She sat in the car for a long moment, staring at the front door.