Please Back Home

Selvia was utterly stunned when a man suddenly embraced her from behind.

Is this Diandra’s husband? she wondered, her heart racing.

Before she could process her surprise, the man’s hand slipped beneath her towel, his fingers brushing against her breast, sending an unexpected wave of arousal through her. He untied the kimono towel strap, letting it fall open.

“I want you, baby,” Andre murmured, his voice low and husky.

Selvia’s breath hitched. She knew she should resist, but his voice was intoxicating, tempting her resolve. As his hands caressed her neck, a soft moan escaped her lips.

“Aaaah…” she sighed, her body betraying her.

Andre froze at the unfamiliar sound. He quickly turned the woman around, only to be met with a face he didn’t recognize. His eyes widened in shock as he realized the woman standing before him, completely naked, was not his wife, Diandra. His face paled, and he immediately turned away, his mind racing.

Why is there a naked woman in my room? Where is Diandra? he thought, panic rising.

“Who are you? Why are you in my room?” Andre demanded, his voice sharp with confusion.

“I’m Selvia. Diandra’s friend,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly.

“Why are you in my room?” he repeated, his tone harsher than he intended.

“I’ll explain later, but can I please put on my clothes first? They’re on the bed near you,” Selvia said, her cheeks flushing.

Andre didn’t respond. He simply turned and walked out of the room without another word, his mind a whirlwind of guilt and confusion.

Selvia watched him leave, a mix of amusement and irritation flickering in her eyes. “Oh my… You’re a man, already touched me, saw me naked, and just walked away? Hmm… just you wait,” she muttered under her breath.

She quickly grabbed her clothes from the bed, her mind racing. “I’d better get dressed before Diandra catches me like this,” she thought.

“But seriously, how could he mistake me for his wife? I’m taller, and sure, my chest is just as big, but still…”

As she dressed, she couldn’t help but smirk. “Diandra’s husband is cute, though. The way he touched me… it’s a shame I can’t have a taste of him. It’s like a lollipop I can’t suck on.”

Meanwhile, Andre sat in his office, his mind in turmoil. How could I have mistaken her for Diandra? he thought, running a hand through his hair. Diandra isn’t as tall as Selvia. Was it because she was wearing Diandra’s kimono towel? Or the lavender soap—Diandra’s favorite scent?

He groaned, his anxiety mounting. What if Diandra finds out? This could be disastrous.

Determined to clear the air, Andre grabbed his phone and dialed his wife’s number.

“Hello, love,” Diandra answered cheerfully.

“Where are you?” Andre asked, his voice tense.

“I’m picking up the kids from school. Why?”

“Come home. Now.”

“I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“At home.”

“You’re home already? You never come home this early.”

“Are you driving?” Andre interrupted, not wanting to explain over the phone.

“Yes, why?”

“Just hurry home. I’ll wait in the study.”

“Alright… Oh, by the way, did you meet my friend? Selvia? She’s my college friend.”

Andre’s stomach dropped. “Oh, her. Yes, I met her.”

“Did you two talk?”

“Briefly. Just get home, Diandra.”

He ended the call, his mind racing. He had completely forgotten that it was time for Richie and Keira to come home from school. He had come home early today with one thing on his mind—fulfilling his desires with his wife. It had been five days since they’d been intimate, thanks to Diandra’s monthly visitor, and his frustration had gotten the better of him. But now, he had made a grave mistake.

Andre stayed in his office, too ashamed to face Selvia. Yet, he couldn’t shake the fear that she might tell Diandra what had happened. What should I do? If Diandra finds out, I’m dead. Should I talk to Selvia? But how can I face her after this?

He sighed, running a hand over his face. I can’t bear to see Diandra cry. I love her too much.

Meanwhile, Selvia strolled casually out of Diandra’s private room, her confidence restored. Mia, the household assistant, approached her.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I’ve tidied up your room,” Mia said politely.

“Thank you, Mia,” Selvia replied with a smile.

As she followed Mia down the hall, she noticed another maid setting the dining table. Curiosity got the better of her.

“How many people work here, Mia?” Selvia asked.

“There are two of us who clean the house—me and Mbak Wati. Then there’s Mas Joko, the gardener, who also takes care of Mr. Andre’s pets. And we have two drivers, Mas Agus and Mas Budi,” Mia explained.

“That’s quite a staff,” Selvia remarked.

“It used to be more, ma’am. We had a babysitter for Mbak Keira and Mas Richie, but she left.”

“Why?”

“Ms. Diandra said the children are old enough now and don’t need a babysitter. She didn’t want them to get spoiled.”

Selvia nodded, her mind wandering. “By the way, has Diandra’s husband come home?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Andre Pratama is Ms. Diandra’s husband.”

Selvia’s eyes lit up with recognition. Andre Pratama… She had heard that name before. As soon as Mia left, Selvia pulled out her phone and googled him.

“So, Diandra’s husband is the director of PT Pratama Abadi,” she murmured to herself, scrolling through the search results.

“One of the leading shoe manufacturers with a famous imported brand. Expensive, too. He’s mature, successful, wealthy, handsome… and from the way he touched me, he seems like he knows how to satisfy a woman in bed. I want him.”

A sly smile spread across her face as she imagined the possibilities.