It was just a bit of dressing up.

An artistic neighbour. A borrowed dress. A name that somehow fit better than his own.

But now Kay is Charlotte. Sitting in a bar with new friends, gold satin and heels, unable to admit who she really is.

Even when Kay's wife walks in with a stranger's arm around her waist.

Being cuckolded is one thing.

But this? Trapped inside someone else's body, someone else's name, watching your wife melt into another man and being utterly powerless to say a single word?

This is something else entirely.

And the worst part?

The night is going to get unimaginably more agonising before it's done.