Chapter 1

Jill Maxwell had noticed the change weeks ago, but she waited until they were alone at the diner to say anything.

They sat in their usual booth at the small mom-and-pop place on the edge of Oak Grove, the one with the faded red vinyl seats and the handwritten specials board. It was just after eleven. Jill’s three boys—ten, twelve, and fourteen—were at school. John’s truck was already at the job site. Jasmine’s kids were on the bus too, and Cory was at the factory. The restaurant was nearly empty except for an older couple two tables over and the waitress refilling coffee.

Jill studied her friend across the table. Jasmine looked different. Not just the constant small smile that had been on her face for weeks, but something in the way she sat, the way her eyes kept drifting like she was remembering something good. Jill was striking herself—long red hair falling past her shoulders, bright green eyes, 5’5” and a tight 110 pounds, with full 38DD breasts that strained the simple blouse she wore. Her husband John was a solid, handsome man, 5’11” and about 185 pounds, the kind who coached their oldest boy’s baseball team and never missed a Sunday at Oak Grove Baptist. They were the couple people pointed to when they talked about marriages that worked.

“You’ve been walking around like you know something the rest of us don’t,” Jill said, keeping her voice low. “What is it?”

Jasmine set her fork down. She had barely touched the sandwich. “Jerry. The man who moved in a few houses down from us. He’s been coming over.”

Jill’s green eyes narrowed slightly. She knew who Jerry was. Tall, Black, built heavy, the one who had started showing up at church because he was friends with Pastor Miles. She and John had nodded at him in the parking lot a few times. “Coming over how?”

Jasmine didn’t look away. “In the mornings. After the kids leave and Cory’s gone. It started with him asking for eggs. Then orange juice. Then he just started knocking. And I started letting him in.” She paused, then said it plainly. “I let him do whatever he wants to me. I’ve become his black cock slut.”

Jill’s hand froze around her water glass. For a second the only sound was the low hum of the refrigerator behind the counter. She glanced toward the older couple, then back at Jasmine. Her cheeks had gone pink, but she didn’t look away. “You’re serious.”