by Rowena
“So we agree?” Jason says, even though I haven’t spoken any of my thoughts out loud, but maybe Scott did, I don’t know—I missed the past few seconds or so due to chamber flashbacks.
Jason’s voice jolting me back to the present sends another wave of realization through me, and I feel even more ashamed of myself.
Jason has been a part of my life for a while, so in a way, he was already part of me, and that chamber sure as hell made him a part of me in a lot of other ways, but I realize something else is different.
The mere sound of his voice as he speaks reaches further into me than it did before. It doesn’t just pass in and out of my ear until I hear, understand, and can respond to whatever he’s saying—it curls into my ear like an invisible tongue, then slides down my ear canal almost seductively.
I can almost feel my body grabbing onto it in an attempt to keep part of him with me, and it seems so silly! It’s just his voice, and we’re just friends—we have to be.
This new attachment to him lets me know exactly what I have to do. The three of us experienced a very traumatic, humiliating event together, and I know we’ll be bonded forever by that, but Jason and I can’t be friends anymore.
Knowing how he feels about me, plus considering how our experience affected me—it just wouldn’t be a good idea.
He’s seen me up close, far too intimately, and I don’t know if I can look at him without thinking about what it was like to have him pushing his cock inside me, my back against the wall, my arms around his strong, firm shoulders, his handsome face mere centimeters from mine, his dark green eyes filled with desire and pleasure.
It wouldn’t be fair to Scott.
Maybe those guys can still find a way to be friends—guys always seem to be able to—but Jason and I are completely done.
A sharp pain passes through my chest, and I wonder if it has anything to do with the weird positions we’ve been in the past few days.
It doesn’t take long for me to realize I’m lying to myself—that sharp pain has everything to do with the possibility of not seeing—or being able to talk to—Jason again.
Beyond what happened in that vault or chamber or whatever the fuck that was, Jason has been a part of my life since early adolescence.
How could I not mourn the loss of that?
“Agreed,” I say, realizing mine was the response Jason was waiting for.
We won’t breathe a word of our experience outside of each other, and by the time Scott and I walk down the aisle, I’m sure we’ll have gotten past it, and my lovemaking with Jason will be a distant memory.
3
SCOTT
I feel like I’m in shock for a while, and even though we’re out of that strange room, I can’t rouse myself to be more responsive to anything Calla or Jason is saying—I can only go along with whatever they decide as we shuffle along the side of the road.
But by the time a truck pulls over and I realize we’re about to get a ride, I start to snap out of it.
What the fuck just happened to us? Seriously?
“You guys all right?” the trucker says as he hops out of the driver’s side to come toward us, but I’m pretty sure it’s clear we’re not all right, considering we must look a sight in our silk underwear, walking toward who-knows-where.
We probably look like we just emerged from doing ‘shrooms in the woods.
“Oh my god, we’re so glad to see you!” Calla says, letting go of my hand to run toward the gray-bearded stranger.
I speed up to follow her, as does Jason.
“What the hell happened to you three?” the old man asks, and both Calla and I look at Jason.
“You won’t believe it,” Jason begins. “Our car broke down, and a carful of folks stopped to help us—so we thought. They gave us a jump, but then they jumped us, taking off with our car. There were more of them than us, and it all happened so fast, and here we are!”
The trucker nods, but I’m not sure he believes him. He stares at our attire as if waiting for an explanation for that, but Jason doesn’t bother, and the trucker doesn’t press.
“Well, let’s get you all home then,” he says, turning to go back to the driver’s side and indicating for us to get in. “Where to?”
Jason tells him where he lives as we all pile in.
I figure once we get to his place, Jason will then drop Calla and me off at Calla’s apartment instead of leaving us to put the trucker out a few more miles.
Fine with me.
“You mind if I take a shower?” I ask Jason once we get inside his apartment.
We’re not actually all that dirty considering all the hygienic luxuries afforded us in that chamber, but considering what the three of us did, hell yeah, I need a shower, stat. And no, not all together this time.
I need to wash off what happened in that cozy dungeon, start trying to wash away the memory of having to bend to someone else’s will like that.
I’ll admit, it was hella exciting, but I’m not sure I want to do something like that again, although my appetite has increased in a way that made me realize I want to experiment more sexually.
It’s like my eyes have been opened, and I need to try new things, far beyond swapping out girls who simply look different—even though they each have their specialties. My experiences with all those other girls have been good to great, but all of a sudden, everything just feels so vanilla.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Of course, I already know the answer to that question—as usual, I’m gonna have my cake and eat it too.
There’s no way Calla alone can satisfy me—I know that sure as I know my own name at this point.
Up until two days ago, seducing various women and getting them to give me all sorts of pleasure was good enough for me, but there’s a whole world of sexual pleasure out there, and I attempt to explore it with Calla at my side, but far away.
One of my classmates mentioned this club he heard of (and now that I think about it, he probably went to at least once)—a place catering to various kinks, and I brushed it off then, happy with what I was up to at the time, but I’m definitely up for it now.
Plus, one of my fuck-mates, Sarah, had been encouraging me to try some backdoor play, but I kept avoiding it. Now, having gotten the perfect opportunity to test it out with Calla, expanding my horizons a bit more, I can give Sarah what she wants—it’s the least I can do since she sucks my cock so good.
Poor Calla.
I do love her, and I like that she’s always available for me when I come home, so I’ll keep the same relationship I had with her—the one where I get to do whatever the fuck I want over there on campus, and come home to her sweet ass—I don’t mind a little sweetness in between raunchier sessions.
And with Calla having admitted willingly sleeping with my best friend before that freak made us all fuck—man do I have ammunition to use against her for a long time—I can guilt her into all kinds of things.
I know Calla still wants to be with me, and I still think I want what she wants eventually—to settle down into a stable, regular-ass family arrangement, but there’s no way I’m ready for it now, and I don’t see it happening anytime in the coming year, or even by the time I graduate.
It’s not Calla’s fault, and I don’t really blame her for giving in to the circumstances, although I’m mad as hell that Jason got to sample her, and I’m not sure when that fire will die down. I mean, I don’t blame him either, but fuck. Calla’s mine.
Yeah, I’m aware of the contradictions and hypocrisy, but I can’t help my feelings.
I really don’t know how things’ll go between me and Jason—it’s tough to look that guy in the eyes knowing he fucked my girl at least twice.
I don’t want to be a dick and hold it against him, but the look he gave me after our blindfolds came off, and he was still thrusting into her pussy…it was like some sort of challenge, a dare.
I only let him stuff Calla’s cunt because I took her virginity that
way already, and I wanted to do it again elsewhere.
4
JASON
Calla refuses to look at me while Scott’s in the shower.
I feared she might join him in there for a moment, but she’s sitting on the couch in my living room, staring off to the side.
“You sure you don’t want some more water?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
I move to sit next to her and lower my voice, the sound of the shower still going strong.
“You can’t pretend it didn’t happen, Calla.”
“Yes, I can.”
I slide my hand to her thigh, and she jumps, but I can tell it’s not just the surprise of my hand there.
“You can’t ignore what’s between us.”
“I only did it because I had to,” she blurts, still not looking at me.
I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince.
“That may be so, but can you truly tell me you didn’t enjoy it, and that you wouldn’t want it to happen again?”
I slide my hand a little higher up her thigh, and she trembles but doesn’t move my hand.
She is breathing hard—no doubt aroused—and I move closer to her.
She sucks in a breath then bounces away, putting several inches between us again.
When her voice comes again, it is like a plaintive whisper.
“I can’t help how my body responds to you, Jason, but I can’t…”
“Can’t what? Can’t do what’s best for yourself? I love you, Calla, and you know I’ll be true to you. We can explore so much together; I’ll rock your world again and again.”
She licks her lips then closes her eyes briefly before looking away again as she finally plucks my hand from her thigh and moves it to the couch seat.
“I…” She glances at me, and I can see she is considering something monumental, and it’s killing me to know she’s so close to making a better decision for herself.
“I find you attractive, Jason, and we definitely shared something pretty special, but you know I belong to Scott, always have. I choose him again, and I’m sorry, but I don’t think you and I can even be friends anymore considering what we did.”
She might as well have just stabbed me with a rusty, jagged knife.
She can’t be saying what it sounds like she’s saying, right? She’s planning to exit my life completely?
But before I can jump on her words, I hear the shower turn off.
I can feel the wall Calla has put up between us again as she moves a bit further from me.
I stand and head to the kitchen, intending to grab a cold drink, but I end up leaning on the counter instead.
You know, I used to say if I got one chance to hold Calla the way I have, one chance to make love to her, kiss her, have her hold me back like we’re one, that I’d die a happy man.
I realize now that that still isn’t enough.
“So, we’re cool?” Scott says as he heads to the front door, hair damp and Calla in tow.
I guess she’d rather shower in her own apartment instead of staying another second with me. But maybe I’m over-thinking it—it’s always best to shower in one’s own place, and they were only a thirty-minute drive away from hers.
“Yeah, man,” I say and I realize they’re both looking at me expectantly.
Shit, I forgot I was supposed to be the one to drop them off, but I was so distracted by the pieces of my heart on the floor.
There was no way I was going to let Scott fuck Calla again in that dungeon, but out here, everything is entirely up to Calla, and she hasn’t chosen me.
I know she’s committed to Scott, and that she’s just that kind of girl when it comes to romantic relationships—though she has only had this one, which is clearly part of the reason for her loyalty.
Calla told me about her dreams before—like many girls, she got stuck on the idea of finding the one and being with that one forever. Scott occupied that role for her, and she is reluctant to let go; starting over is scary.
Meanwhile, I know very few guys with the same idea—a lot more are interested in finding the many and seem to make it their life’s goal to fuck as many women as possible.
Maybe they’re just frontin’—I don’t know, and I don’t really care because I’m not one of them; I’m not interested in the many—I only want Calla.
But what can I do if she doesn’t want me?
I did what I could over these past few days, and after being inside of her, I know I’m more bonded to her than before, that I now have other ways and places to take root.
If Scott wasn’t my friend, I would keep at her until she can’t get me out of her mind and aches for my cock, addicted to all of me, but I’m no asshole—Scott got her fair and square, and like Calla, I have a strong sense of loyalty in regards to my relationships.
She glances back at me before she and Scott take off toward my car, and I don’t know why, but it fills me with hope.
5
CALLA
The drive to my apartment is completely silent, and when we pull up to my place, I mumble a thanks to Jason without looking at him.
I can’t bear to see his face—the possibility of longing and disappointment on it. I can’t bear to feel that stir in my chest as I look into his earnest emerald eyes.
As Scott and I head to my apartment, I wait for the sound of Jason’s car pulling off, then let out a heavy breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.
“What the fuck?” I hear Scott say wondrously, and I look up, startled, and then realize he’s not looking at me or the apartment at all.
I follow his stare to a blue car parked just up the road, one that looks exactly like his.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, and then jogs toward it.
I watch him inspect it, checking out the license, then cupping his hand on the window to look inside.
When he heads back to me, I already know the answer to the unspoken question.
“It’s definitely mine,” he says. “No keys in it though. Guess I’ll sort that out later—let’s just get you inside.”
Once we enter the building, I absentmindedly grab my accumulated mail, including a large manila envelope with no return address on it, and then we head upstairs to my door.
I think about moving again—I never quite felt at home here, but it is inexpensive and works for my purposes as someone living alone.
I look around my one-bedroom apartment and see that nothing has been disturbed as far as I can tell, no cops have rifled through the kitchen or living room.
Didn’t anyone think it was weird I was gone for a few days?
But I guess I wasn’t gone long enough—I was taken on Wednesday after work, was off the following day, the next day was a holiday, and I don’t work on weekends.
Damn, did the Voice take all of that into account?
Scott goes to inspect my bedroom and bathroom, and I dump the mail on the nearest counter, and although I’m curious about the package, I feel like Scott and I need to talk first. There’s this ripple between the two of us now that needs to be smoothed out.
Things have obviously changed, but I feel like once we address what happened and our feelings about it, we can move on and pretend like it didn’t happen. We can pave over this pothole.
I look at Scott, trying to read his expression as he returns to the living area.
“So,” I begin, and I’m at a loss where to go from there.
What kind of follow-up should I be going for?
So, how about that threesome?
So, when are you going to marry me?
So, how do I get you to stir up the almost debilitating hunger Jason stirred in me?
I find myself surprised at the last thought—it’s the first time I’ve acknowledged the powerful connection Jason and I have.
I always got excited when Scott and I were about to have sex, but what Jason did to me was far beyond excitement—he invoked a need much greater than I’ve ever felt.
“We
don’t have to,” Scott says before I can figure out my next words. “It’s over, in the past. A soon-to-be distant memory. It’s just you and me now, babe.”
I smile gratefully, relief flooding me that we can get back to normal sooner than later.
Tension starts to ease, and I can actually feel my body relaxing, bit by bit.
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” I say, still smiling.
Scott smiles back. “Want me to join you?” he asks, leering at me, and I know exactly what he has in mind.
I shake my head gently. I’m not quite ready for more of that just yet.
“I need some time to myself. I’m still processing what happened,” I say truthfully.
He nods. “I totally understand,” he says. “I did some of that back at Jason’s. It helps to just stand there, warm water pouring over your head, no eyes on you, free to think or not think, alone. Hey, mind if I use your computer while you’re in there? I have a few emails to send to profs and whatnot.”
My grin widens. “Of course I don’t mind. You know the password.”
He heads to my desktop while I head to the shower.
When I re-emerge, newly clean and in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, still beaming with happiness over how good it felt to be able to pick out my own shit to wear, I see Scott is still busy with my computer, so I head to that manila envelope.
I tear it open, and my mouth drops open once I pull out the contents.
“What is it?” Scott says, turning to look at me since I gasped audibly.
“Guess you don’t have to worry about your keys,” I say, holding them up for him to see, “nor do we have to worry about our phones.”
Both of our phones were also in there, turned off, but undamaged.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Scott says, making his way over.
He pockets his keys then turns his phone on right away, and I do the same.
