Tom walked into his home, hanging his head low. He was exhausted after a long days work at his monotonous job selling insurance. He hated his job, but it paid well enough for him to support him and his wife Tiffany.
Tom walked into the house and tossed his keys onto a small table by the door. He saw another set of keys and wondered if they belonged to the BMW parked outside on the street. He could hear distant voices coming from the kitchen.
He walked into the kitchen to see his wife Tiffany sitting at the dining table, one leg crossed over the other. Here blonde hair straight and sharply cut at her shoulders, her full lips moving up and down. She was wearing a tight white blouse, her breasts were peaking out of the top, and the top button left undone. Seated across from her was a man with dark black skin, he was dressed in dark slacks and a dress shirt, his muscled chest filled the shirt, pressing against the buttons.
“Oh you’re finally home,” Tiffany glanced at Tom, and then continued her conversation. The man’s smile was bright, and he joked with her while she giggled at everything he said.