I found a pair of battered-up lingerie stockings in my girlfriend’s bag. My gaze locked on the irregular yellowish stains on them, and I froze. I stayed silent, doing nothing but secretly pouring some fiery hot chili oil into the lube. From that day on, I became a regular at the hospital. Not for me, though. It was for the genes of a Black man. The day she gave birth, she clutched the newborn Black baby, her expression manic, as if struck by lightning. “No, wait, who put this in my belly?!” Chloe and I had been together for almost two years, but things had never gotten truly intimate. She swore she was old-fashioned, that she was saving herself for our wedding night. I chuckled and nodded, trusting her completely. Until yesterday night, when I found a pair of heavily used lace stockings in her pocket. The yellowish stains on the stockings were crystal clear. I didn’t even need to lean in to smell it. That sickening, acrid odor… any man would know exactly what had happened. My vision blurred. It felt like a physical blow. We weren’t young anymore, and both our families were pushing us to get married. So, a couple of days ago, I suggested we go for pre-marital health screenings. But Chloe seemed hesitant. “Liam, I think that’s a bit too soon…” I just thought she was shy and didn’t suspect a thing. “Chloe, it’s not too soon. We’re getting married soon anyway. Besides, with the screenings, we can get extra vacation days for our honeymoon! You’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii and Europe, right? We can get it all done at once.” Memories flooded my mind, and my blood ran cold. The sound of rushing water from the bathroom was fading. Chloe was almost done with her shower. I quickly put the stockings back where I found them. But my mind was already racing, unable to stop. When did she betray me? Two months ago, Chloe, who never wore stockings, suddenly, inexplicably, bought two pairs. She complained to me, saying the faculty really valued her and would often send her to academic conferences. She was too junior, so she’d just be there as a formality, standing all day. She said she read online that wearing stockings could effectively protect her calves, and told me not to overthink it. I didn’t sense anything was wrong; I just felt bad for her. But now, who could tell me what kind of standing position could turn a pair of stockings into *this*? I was dazed, feeling like I’d fallen into an ice abyss. Just then, Chloe emerged from the bathroom. I walked towards her, my hand barely touching her waist before she slapped it away. “Liam, please respect me! I told you I’m traditional. Can you just respect that?!” *Slam!* The bedroom door was violently shut. I gritted my teeth, rage churning inside me. I don’t respect you? Touching my own girlfriend is disrespectful, huh? Then what the hell is *this* ‘battle-damaged’ stocking from your academic conference?! I clamped down on my fury, refusing to explode right then and there. That night, I stayed awake on the balcony, not sleeping a wink. I’d heard grad students could be pretty wild. Had she hooked up with some younger guy? I suppressed my anger and secretly followed her for several days, but found nothing suspicious. The next day, I staked out her university entrance early. At six in the evening, she appeared near the gate. She was alone, but she kept looking around, a clear sign she was waiting for someone. I pulled my hat lower and moved to a higher vantage point. Almost simultaneously, a smile suddenly bloomed on Chloe’s face. She raised her arm, waving in a certain direction. I clenched my fists, staring intently. At the edge of my vision, a figure appeared. I didn’t rush out blindly to beat him senseless, as I’d imagined I would. Instead, I stood frozen, bewildered. It was indeed a man. And I knew him. He was Chloe’s mentor, Dr. Marcus Thorne, in his late fifties. Chloe had told me before that he’d pulled a lot of strings to help her attend those academic conferences. The two exchanged polite greetings and walked out of the university gate. Everything seemed perfectly normal. I felt a mix of bewilderment and relief. Maybe it was just my remaining fondness for her, acting up because I hadn’t caught her red-handed. But the next moment, I felt like I’d plunged into an ice abyss again. As Chloe got into the car, the man, in a gentlemanly gesture, used his left hand to shield the car door, while his right hand slipped into Chloe’s chest. Chloe shyly pulled back, but quickly pushed her chest out again, provocatively flashing her cleavage.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Chloe… and her mentor? A man old enough to be her grandfather! I don’t know how I made it home that day. Her tablet was on the console table in the hallway. She must have rushed off and forgotten it. I took a deep breath and opened their chat logs. “But my stockings were brand new, barely worn for half a day.” “You little vixen, you’re just too captivating. I can’t resist. I bought you other styles. Come get them tomorrow, and put them on right then and there.” “You need to be more careful. What if my boyfriend finds out?” “You’re too tempting. I just can’t hold back.” “Hmph, so between me and your wife, who has a better body, who’s prettier?” “That old hag can’t even compare to you. You’re a siren, the kind that makes me lose all control.” “Oh, stop it~ But we can’t always be in your office. What if someone hears us?” “We get so few chances to be alone. The office is the only place we can be open. And you’re too timid, you don’t even dare to make a sound. It’s much more exciting outside.” “Next academic conference, Daddy will make you feel like you’re flying.” “So embarrassing, don’t say that…” My face was ashen, my neck flushed with anger. The chat logs weren’t just filled with obscene words; there were countless indecent photos and videos. I couldn’t believe Chloe, who always presented herself as conservative and traditional, was truly this person. They had even talked about me. “Why are you still with that boyfriend of yours? What do you see in him? He knows nothing about passion.” “He doesn’t know passion, but he’s really generous with money. Besides, I’m so pretty, it feels good to have him dote on me.” “Dote on you? Can he dote on you like I can? Hmph, I’m jealous.” “Oh, you’re jealous? I haven’t even said I’m jealous yet! If you divorce your wife, I’ll break up with him immediately, and then I’ll give you two healthy baby boys. How about that?” “Baby, enough about that. Kiss me, mua~” That single “Baby” made me want to gag. I would have never in a million years thought that my girlfriend of almost two years, after such a long-term relationship, was this kind of person! In their eyes, I was just a cuckold, a walking ATM, and a personal servant? I thought back to these past two years. As her rightful boyfriend, I had to wait for her mood to even kiss her. Let alone any further intimacy. I even thought I’d found a good girl. That’s why I always respected her so much. But now, reality had slapped me hard across the face. This supposedly virtuous lady was, in fact, a backstabbing slut! I was worse than a simp! My lips trembled with rage. Dr. Marcus Thorne. This old creep was truly something. He’d published articles in numerous top-tier journals, a renowned figure in his field. In his late fifties, yet he showed no signs of aging; his posture was upright, he was refined and elegant, with an air of scholarly sophistication. His wife came from a prominent family, his two daughters attended top universities, and his own academic reputation was well-known in his circle. He probably thought his life was perfect. My face contorted into a grotesque grimace. Damn it! Cuckold me and make him a cripple? And I’d have to pay for that? That’s too easy on him. I’m going to destroy his reputation! I’m going to ruin him forever! I saved all the evidence, then put the tablet back in its original spot. Just as I finished, Chloe came back. Chloe usually came home after nine, but today she was back early, before eight. As soon as she opened the door, she asked if I’d seen her tablet. I pretended to be oblivious, and we “found” it together near the console table. Chloe grabbed the tablet and subtly let out a sigh of relief. “You scared me! I thought I’d lost my tablet.” Then, she took the tablet and went straight to her bedroom. I watched it all unfold with a calm gaze. She’d only left at six to have dinner with the old creep, and now she was rushing back so urgently. Wasn’t it just to delete evidence? When Chloe emerged from her bedroom, the slight heaviness on her face was gone. Right in front of me, she cheerfully answered a call. “Dr. Thorne, I’m back. Everything went smoothly.” “Thank you for worrying. Understood.” “I know. I’ll come to your office first thing tomorrow morning when I get to school.” Chloe covered the mouthpiece, naturally whispering a complaint: “These grad students are just slaves. Mentors aren’t teachers, they’re bosses. They make me do personal favors all day, I’m exhausted.” Personal favors? I scoffed internally. Yes, those were definitely personal favors. She lazily stretched out her legs and said softly, “Honey, I was standing all day at that academic conference yesterday, my legs are so weak. Could you give me a rub?” My lower lip bore the imprint of my teeth. Why were they weak? How dare she spout such trash? Did she really think I was a complete fool?! I excused myself, claiming I needed to use the restroom, and blew her off. Three days ago, I would have eagerly rushed over to rub her legs. But now, I saw it clearly. These two were deliberately seeking cheap thrills. You want thrills, huh? I’ll give you a thrill you won’t forget!
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