I ate slowly. Every so often my eyes drifted to the married couple. The husband spoke with easy trust. The wife sat close enough that their sleeves brushed.
She poured his tea without being asked. He thanked her absently.
Neither of them knew that only an hour earlier she had been bent over a sink with another man's cock buried in her and his piss flooding her womb.
Neither of them knew the marks still hidden under her clothes or the way her pussy still leaked into the folded cloth she almost certainly wore between her legs.
The knowledge settled warm and deep in my gut. Pleasure without urgency. Amusement without cruelty. I had taken the daughter. Now I had taken the mother. The man across from me remained smiling grateful completely untouched by the truth. I let myself enjoy the quiet comedy of it while the morning light moved across the table and ordinary conversation filled the room.
