I look so innocent with my glasses on… until I open my mouth
The Perfect Facade
I adjusted my thick-rimmed glasses, the ones that made me look like a shy librarian, and smiled sweetly at my husband, Daniel. He kissed my forehead before leaving for work, completely oblivious.
“Love you, babe. Don’t work too hard,” he said, his voice warm and trusting.
“I won’t,” I lied.
The door clicked shut, and I let out a slow breath, my fingers tracing the edge of my phone. A notification lit up the screen—him.
The First Bite of Forbidden Fruit
His name was Marcus. Sharp jawline, confident smirk, the kind of man who didn’t ask for permission—he took. We met at the coffee shop where I pretended to grade papers, my glasses perched on my nose like armor.
“You don’t look like the type who enjoys rules,” he had murmured, sliding into the seat across from me.
I licked my lips. “Looks can be deceiving.”
That was two months ago. Now, my phone buzzed again.
Marcus: You wearing those glasses today?
Me: Always.
Marcus: Good. I like peeling off the innocence.
The Game of Deception
Daniel thought I was at book club. Instead, I was in Marcus’s apartment, my glasses still on—because he liked them. He liked the contrast. The way I looked like a good girl while doing very, very bad things.
“Does he know?” Marcus asked, his fingers digging into my hips as he pushed me against the wall.
“No,” I gasped. “He thinks I’m pure.”
Marcus laughed, dark and knowing. “But you’re not.”
The Unraveling
Daniel was a good man. Kind. Predictable. He kissed me the same way every morning, held my hand at dinner, and never once suspected that my moans weren’t just for him.
But Marcus—Marcus knew. He knew the second I walked in, my glasses fogging up from the heat between us, that I was already his.
“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice rough. “Tell me who you belong to.”
I hesitated—just for a second—before whispering, “You.”
The Guilt That Wasn’t Guilt
I should have felt remorse. But when I came home, Daniel was watching TV, smiling at me like I was still his untouched angel.
“How was book club?” he asked.
“Boring,” I said, adjusting my glasses. “Just like always.”
He believed me. That was the worst part—how easy it was.
The Final Push
Marcus wasn’t satisfied with stolen moments. “I want him to know,” he growled one night, his hands possessive on my skin.
I stiffened. “No.”
“Why not?” His smirk was dangerous. “You like the risk. You like knowing he’s clueless while I ruin you.”
I did. God, I did.
The Breaking Point
Daniel found the text.
Not the explicit ones—just a harmless “Can’t wait to see you.” But his face twisted in confusion. “Who’s Marcus?”
I pushed my glasses up, my voice steady. “A colleague.”
Daniel nodded, trusting as ever. But that night, for the first time, he didn’t reach for me.
The End… Or the Beginning?
Marcus was waiting when I stormed into his apartment, tears in my eyes.
“He knows,” I hissed.
Marcus just smiled. “Good.”
And as he pulled me close, my glasses slipping down my nose, I realized—I didn’t care.
Because innocence was just another lie.
