Things used to be simple.

It used to be about sex. They were just two people, fulfilling a need. Scratching an itch. It was purely physical. A release.

This was a mistake.

One mistake turned into two. Two turned into five. And five turned into a weekdaily ritual. Suddenly a simple "Hi" or a raised eyebrow turned into tearing each other's clothes off moments later. If she squeezed her eyes closed hard enough, she could block out the fact she was in a dirty supply closet with a man who was committed to someone else. If he buried himself deep enough within her, he could pretend she loved him back.

This is the last time.

It was never the last time. Not when he looked like sex on a stick and he needed her the way he needed air to breathe.

At the beginning, when things were simple, their dirty talk was like an instruction manual. They only had a limited amount of time, so they got right to the point. She was shameless and he was all too eager to please her.

Close the door. I want to rip your pants off.

Take your hair down.

Right there. Faster.

Kiss me.

Fuck me harder.

At the beginning, they would separate quickly after finishing. They would put their clothes back on while avoiding each other's eyes. They retreated emotionally, mentally compartmentalizing their encounters so they wouldn't bleed red out into the other parts of their lives.

The supply closet contained its own universe where Dr. Akopian and workbooks and disappointed fathers and Mona didn't exist. In the supply closet, it was only the smell of her hair and her contented sigh in his ear. It was his sturdy arms holding her up and his hot breath against her neck.

They had slip-ups. As time ticked on, they got sloppy. The janitor caught them twice, forcing them to learn the building's cleaning schedule. Sometimes they lingered too long, causing suspicion among their colleagues. A few times he forgot to bring a condom and they had to improvise.

What happened in the supply closet stayed in the supply closet. Until it didn't.

Their secret universe of the supply closet slowly creeped into the rest of the office. One day, when she stood enticingly close to him on his side of the desk, he slyly slid his hand between her legs, trailing his fingertips along her inner thigh until he could feel her heat. After that, all her dress pants got lost in the back of the closet. Sometimes during meetings, she dragged her bare foot alluringly from his calf to his thigh, forcing him to punish her later for being such a tease. Each time one of them had to work late, the other found a reason to stay. Those nights they lavished each other with no worries about time restrictions. Those nights he settled in between her legs and wasn't satisfied until she writhed and begged for release.

But their worst mistakes had nothing to do with the sex.

After a surprise visit from his father, Nathaniel waited for Rebecca to walk by the supply closet and then silently grabbed her hand and dragged her inside. Her forehead wrinkled into a question but he ignored it, lifting her underneath her thighs and depositing her on the nearby table. Before she could remove her shirt or make any other move, he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. Without any urgency, he simply continued to kiss her, with no end destination, stroking her hair methodically, almost lovingly. When she tugged on his belt, he gently removed her hands and placed them on his chest. After several minutes of languidly exploring each other's mouths, he buried his face in her the crook of her neck and she held him until he was ready to face the remainder of the day. They never spoke of it.

On another particularly stressful day, about a month later, he hoisted her roughly up against the supply room wall and fucked her until she saw stars behind her eyes. After he came inside her, he loosened his arms to release her but she tightened her grip around his shoulders and simply said, "Wait." She clung to him with all four of her limbs while their bodies stayed joined. He complied, letting her come down from the high of her orgasm until his arms ached from holding her up. She whispered, "I want…" into his neck but then fell silent. She never finished the sentence and he never asked for more.

That was the last time. This time we mean it, right?

Over time, it got to the point where their needs no longer had to be verbalized. Their body language shorthand was at an expert level of fluency. A grip on her hips or push on his chest or desperate moan was a complete sentence. They greedily took what they needed from each other - no words required. She stopped wearing her hair up. He wore his tie looser.

Six months. It had been six months since they started their affair. Six months of last times and mistakes and never agains. At this point, saying it was just a formality. A routine. It was an obligatory acknowledgement that what they were doing was wrong, yet apparently not wrong enough for either of them to stop it.

This week both Nathaniel and Rebecca were overworked and suffered from a lack of sleep. A big case fell into their laps, courtesy of Nathaniel Plimpton II. Of course, Nathaniel felt he had to prove something and she followed his lead. They stayed late almost every day that week, pouring over the case together, and then unleashing their pent up frustration into each other afterward.

This particular morning, they had a meeting scheduled with the client. Nathaniel had arrived early, prepared to go over the case notes one final time with Rebecca. But, ten minutes prior to the meeting, she was still a no-show. He texted her several times with no response. When they first started working together, this kind of flaky behavior wouldn't have surprised him. But since she became senior partner, she had taken the role much more seriously.

The meeting started without her and he filled in the gaps she left with her absence. About 30 minutes into the meeting, he saw her finally arrive through the glass of the conference room. Her gait was labored, her face drawn into a ball of anxious wrinkles. Looking up, she caught his eye and her face was apologetic, pleading. He nodded sharply, acknowledging her presence.

"Hi gents, so sorry I'm late. Can you believe my luck? I had a flat tire!" she declared with false enthusiasm. She could tell by his stilted expression that Nathaniel was not pleased with her. His overbearing father loomed over this entire week like a silently judging god. And while she didn't care about his final judgment, she knew to Nathaniel it meant everything. Avoiding his gaze, she took her seat beside him and they fell into their usual rhythm for the rest of the meeting.

Afterward, they returned to their shared office. Nathaniel stared daggers at her from across the room and she twitched under his scrutiny.

Finally breaking the silence, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just say it. Say you're mad I was late."

"I'm mad you were late." His eyes were ice blue and the rest of his face was just as cold.

"I'm sorry."

"Supply closet."

"Nathaniel, I'm not in the mood…"

"Just to talk. Away from prying eyes." He nodded toward the bullpen just outside the glass of their office.

"Fine. Five minutes."

In the supply closet, Rebecca waited for him with her arms crossed around her defensively. He arrived in a huff, closing the door behind him a little too forcefully. "What the hell, Rebecca? You know how important this client is for the firm."

"You mean how important it is to your daddy?" she spat.

"Wow," he raised his eyebrows and took a step away from her. "That was totally unnecessary. And I thought we both agreed this would be a huge get for the firm. What is your problem? Why were you really late?"

She tightened her arms further around herself and looked down at the ground. "I just haven't been sleeping well, that's all. I didn't fall asleep until 3AM and then I overslept."

"Why aren't you sleeping?" His eyes darted all over her face. "Something's wrong."

With fear in her eyes, she lashed out, "Oh, I see. Because you've fucked me you know me so well?"

"Well, Rebecca, I have fucked you every day for the past six months now, so, yes, I do think I know you pretty well."

She shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. "Good job, Nathaniel. You cracked the case. But I'm not obligated to tell you anything. You're not my -" She stopped herself and the words hung in the air.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Let's start over. Rebecca, what's wrong?"

She said nothing.

"Rebecca…"

"Listen, Nathaniel, you don't want to know, ok? We don't...talk about things."

"I do want to know." He moved toward her and reached out to touch her arm, which was still crossed over her chest.

She backed away from him. "I'm late, ok?!"

"I know…"

"No, you don't know. I'm late!" Her eyes were wide in frustration.

"What?" He furrowed his brow.

"My period is five days late!" She covered her face with her hands and turned her back to him. Dumbstruck, he stood frozen in place for several moments.

Finally, he came up behind her and rested his hands on either of her shoulders. "Hey, it's ok."

She turned toward him and she had tears in her eyes. "It's not ok. I'm in recovery. You have a girlfriend. Nothing about this is ok. I can't -" Rebecca started breathing a little too quickly and he noticed sweat forming on her forehead. Sensing her acute panic, he resolved to try to be calm.

"Have you taken a test?"

"I bought one. It's in my car. But I'm too afraid to take it."

He reached out and took one of her hands in his. This snapped her out of her daze and she finally looked him in the eyes. They were soft with genuine concern. "Why don't you come over to my place after work and you can take it. And we can...talk about it...or whatever we need to do."

She exhaled sharply and nodded. "Ok."

She moved her arms toward his neck hesitantly and he stooped down so he could gather her into his arms. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere, ok? We'll figure it out."

Things were no longer simple.