A/N : I know alot of people read a little too much into things. Before y'all attack I don't condone cheating at all. It's a disgusting act but this is all fiction and used solely for my entertainment.

OK bye.

Enjoy.

The sun is still resolutely below the horizon and the street is as dark as some old-school black and white movie.

I know it's early morning because I can't hear the whir of the coffee machine yet and because my heart is pounding right out of my chest. That's how I wake up every day now, like someone just fired a gun next to my eardrum. Only there's no gun. It's just Kurt. The married man—the husband of my next door neighbour.

Some might call it an affair, I just call it having fun. Allison doesn't know and he doesn't seem to mind it.

I mean, obviously I felt horrible. Allison was really sweet, when I first moved in she brought me cookies and an amazing apple pie that she still serves when she invites me over for dinner.

If only she knew I was fucking her husband she'd probably have a heart attack.

Sometimes... Sometimes I wish I could extend the night just so I could stay close to him for longer, safe in his embrace. His arms wrapped right around me bring a peace I've never known before, a calming of the storms in my heart.

But then he leaves, often before the sun is fully risen in the sky and I remember he's not mine; he had never been and he never would be.

"Good morning"

I craned my neck to where the sound of his voice came from, still raspy from sleep. He stood at the doorway with a wooden tray, clad in just his plaided pajama pants—the one he decided to leave at my place.

"I brought you breakfast." He muses

He certainly doesn't make it easy on the 'it's just sex' thing

"Thank you. Eat with me?"

The left side of his faint red lip tugged upwards creating a sinister smirk on his god like face; casting a spell of lust to eyes that dare look his way.

"Wish I could," he sighed glancing at his watch, "It's time for me to get home" he said it as if it were the most normal thing but it wasn't. She was sleeping with him, he was married to her friend. This wasn't just a mess it was a disaster zone.

The kiss came out of nowhere. One minute Kurt was over the other side of the room pushing his pajamas down his legs revealing his nude body to her, the next he was kissing her, his hand clasped gently into the back of her hair, pressing in softly. After a few seconds he broke away and smiled, "I just had to do that"

Jane patted the bed seductively. Kurt, unable to deny her, succumbed to her desire.

"Hello." A petite, blonde woman chirped. Her blonde hair was poker-straight and pulled back into a low pony-tail.

She wore little make-up and had the biggest grin on her face.

"My name's Allison and this is my husband Kurt. We live next door." Her happiness was disgustingly annoying and it took everything in Jane to not roll her eyes.

Her husband, on the other hand, he remained silent but his appearance spoke volumes.

He had tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous. His eyes were a mesmerising deep ocean blue, flecks of silvery light performed ballets throughout.

His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark eye brows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression.

"Kurt Weller"

"Atleast tell me his name. Please?" Tasha, Jane's best friend asked, throwing the shot of tequila down her throat.

Her and Tasha had been bestfriends for 11 years. They met in college where they were forced to be roommates against both of their wishes. In a week's time they were almost inseparable.

Tasha leaned on the bar, her black hair lying over one shoulder of her sequinned dress. She lolled her head to one side, pushing out her red lips just a little. She wasn't drunk yet but she liked to give the impression that she was. The bartender was there to take her order in a flash, eyes dropping only momentarily to her low-cut neckline.

She twiddled her hair in a seemingly absent-minded way and giggled girlishly before ordering a Barcardi Breezer.

Suddenly, I'm laughing so hard, I can't stop. I wave my hand in the air, my flag of apology. I don't know why, but the waves of laughter keep coming.

"I'm sorry. You were all over that" Jane managed to choke out in between laughter.

The bar is hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the rock music that dominates the atmosphere. The crowd is young, students from the university for the most part. The bartender returns back with Tasha's drink and a cocktail shot.

"Come one, girly. Maybe if I could get you drunk enough you'll spill his name. Let's go dance" Tasha yelled over music, tugging Jane towards the dance floor.

I'm dancing like this is my last night on Earth, but I think that's just the way my mind avoids thinking about the hangover to come. The music moves me like I'm a puppet on strings, my head mashing so hard my brain is in shut down mode.

There's so much sweat on my skin and not all of it is mine. The strobe masks so many of my movements, every clap of my hands like it's on pause at different moments. Tomorrow they'll be hell to pay but tonight the alcohol keeps on flowing in like it's on IV drip.

It was midmorning and I still had a head that felt like an axe was planted in it. My eyesight struggled to cope with the daylight and I fumbled tying the belt on my dressing gown. With my brain still struggling to recover from the previous night's abuse I had very few options. Reading would be impossible, the TV too garish and I was staying away from social media for fear of what I might see.

So instead I elected to feed myself and dragged my heavy limbs into the kitchen to make a fry up. Eggs, bacon, sausages, perfect for a hangover.

Her phone pinged with message after message, most of them from Kurt; his had a special ring.

After breakfast she figured a nice cold bath would ease her throbbing head.

I strip down and step slowly into the tub, turning the water on high and letting it beat over my head in steamy rivulets. Closing my eyes to the water as the heat soaks into my skin, my mind wanders to him. He was someone's husband and I was sleeping with him. This had been going on for an entire month and the worst part of it all was that I actually enjoyed it—enjoyed him.

You need to call it off, her inner voice scolded.

He's not your husband. He's your very attractive neighbour who has a lovely wife that loves him dearly.

You're just another notch in his belt but you don't have to be.

It was final. She was calling it off tonight.

The stress spread through my mind like ink on paper. I took in deep, ragged breath before placing my hands over my face.

I'll call it off tonight.

The guilt sat not on her chest but inside her brain. What she had done she could not undo. She could make amends in subtle ways, but a confession was out of the question.

She couldn't keep doing that to the woman who showed her so much kindness and so much love. She was betraying her friend.

I'll call it off tonight.

Review?