He wasn’t going to call off the relationship in a manner that cast a pathetic, pitiful light on him.
He was going to get one back at her.
And he had to make it hurt; if possible, as much as he had felt in the past twenty-four hours. So he asked her best friend to meet up with him for lunch to discuss gift ideas for his upcoming anniversary with his girlfriend.
He had planned everything to detail. And he planned for it to happen very fast. He spiked her drink with an aphrodisiac the moment she got up to go to the bathroom.
When she got back, they continued to discuss gift ideas. Whatever she suggested, he would knock it off, waiting for the effect of the drug to kick in. Then he would suggest something ridiculous in turn, deliberately adopting the tactic to keep them talking.
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As soon as she started feeling warm all over, and moist between her legs, he knew. He saw the slight discomforting furrows across her face and the beads of perspiration on her forehead.
The time was right.
He offered to take her home. He paid for the food and drinks and exited the restaurant. In the car, he asked her if she was okay.
She said she wasn’t sure. She was panting, wanting – but resisting from saying unspeakable things.
He pulled her close to comfort her, knowing that as soon as their bodies made contact she would lose will power.
It was in the details.
She ran hand under his shirt desperately, and then down to his pants, struggling with belt. He had also parked the car at a spot where they could manage some privacy. He unhooked her bra, took her breast in his mouth, and slid his own hand into her thongs.
In the background, he had a video recorder capturing his revenge affair. It would be the bang with which he exited his relationship.