Vivian’s POV
My husband has been gone for two weeks, and I've been wet since Tuesday.
Not for him. I stopped getting wet for Ian somewhere around year four of a marriage that's now pushing seven. And that’s not my fault.
He touches me like he's filing paperwork. Quick, mechanical, and with the lights off. He hasn't touched me in four months, and the last orgasm he gave me was so long ago that I've started to think I imagined it.
The pool boy comes every Thursday at noon to clean our luxurious ten-feet pool.
His name is Tyler. He's twenty-three, tanned, and built like someone who spends his life in the sun doing physical work. Broad shoulders, lean stomach, arms that flex when he drags the net through the water.
He works shirtless because it's July and the heat is brutal. What he does
