The last embers of a guilty conscience made Melissa twist her wedding band free.

‘Leave it on,’ the man behind her murmured, his breath heavy on the curve of her neck.

Melissa arched a perfectly plucked blonde eyebrow as she gave him a sideways glance. ‘Why?’

‘I want you to wear it.’ His hands slid down her arms, driving goose bumps on her flesh. Opening her palm, he claimed the band of gold and worked it back onto her finger. ‘It shows how much I mean to you.’

Odd, Melissa thought. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘You’re cheating on your husband to be with me. You wouldn’t commit a mortal sin with just anyone, now would you?’

Melissa resisted the urge to shrug. It was hardly love at first sight. The fact that Matthew was offering no strings sex and high-quality coke was good enough for her. ‘I just want to have fun,’ she said, truthfully.

‘I second that,’ Matthew said, raising his iPhone in the air.

‘No photos,’ Melissa slurred after he had captured her image, her reactions slowed by the copious amounts of cocktails she had consumed. ‘If my husband finds out…’

‘He’d react in exactly the same way as my wife. Don’t worry. What happens in Debauchery stays in Debauchery. I just wanted to remember your sexy face.’ Tapping at his phone, he offered a reassuring smile. ‘There, all gone. You can relax now.’

‘I am relaxed,’ she said, a devilish smile playing on her lips as all thoughts of her older husband floated away. ‘Why don’t you serve up a couple more lines while I pop to the loo?’

‘Consider it done,’ Matthew said, turning towards the rucksack he had picked up from the nightclub cloakroom on the way out. The scruffy canvas bag seemed out of place as he rested it on the four-poster hotel bed. Had she been sober, Melissa may have given it more than a passing thought.

‘What’s in the bag?’ she said. ‘Looks heavy.’

‘Oh, just some fun and games.’

The words were loaded with promise, and Melissa felt a tingle shoot up her spine. She lifted her foot to kick off her heels, but Matthew shot out another warning.

‘Leave the shoes on too, please… and the dress. I want to take it off myself.’

‘Fine,’ she said, her voice trailing behind her as she tottered into the en-suite. A series of spotlights lit the room, bouncing against the shiny chrome and temporarily dazzling her vision. Melissa blinked at her reflection, her eyes alight with anticipation. Her face was still flushed from the afterglow of the club, and the line of coke that followed. She swept back a lock of blonde curly hair before thumbing the mascara stains from beneath her eyes.

Matthew wasn’t normally the type of guy she went for, but right now, she was beyond caring. Sex with her husband had become worse than a chore. She tried to remember a time when it meant something, when they had actually connected, but the memory would not come. His wealth could only stretch so far when it came to cushioning the harsh reality. All too late, Melissa discovered that Phillip’s priority was satisfying his own needs first. A smile touched her lips. She deserved this. And the ironic thing was that her husband would be paying for her fun. Still, she would play the dutiful wife when she went home. She thought of her mobile phone, left charging on her bedside table. She knew her husband sometimes tracked her online. Who needed alibis when your phone could vouch for your whereabouts? But her second phone, the one she hid in her purse, now that was where the real fun began. The flirty texts, the dating app, all leading up to this night.

She swished her mouth with water in the absence of a toothbrush, allowing herself a flutter of excitement, thinking about what was to come. Matthew wasn’t like other men. She had not expected such dominance for a start. Not that she was complaining. His online bio was extensive, and she had been promised an amazing night…

Sod it, she thought, flipping up the toilet seat before pulling down her knickers and sitting down. It wasn’t as if she was having an affair. That was what she loved about Debauchery: being a part of such an illicit online group. Each encounter was quick and disposable. Explosive bursts of pleasure in an otherwise mundane week. After three years of marriage, she had come to a crossroads. She could either leave her husband and be penniless and jobless – or stay married and treat herself when he wasn’t around. She rose from the toilet, kicking off the knickers straddling her ankles. It was a no-brainer. She chose the latter.