by KT Morrison
She started to cry again, her face twisting up, and her hands balled to fists and covered herself so Cole couldn't see her.
“God,” Cole sighed, “please, don’t cry.” He put his arm around her and he watched the side of her head. He kissed her ear. “Maggie, Max and I love you, you hear me? This will be okay. Maggie, I love you.”
Max winced. There was so much to say and he wished he could be the one saying it. Wished Cole could hear his thoughts.
Maggie said, “Don’t say that—”
“It’s true—”
“Cole, stop.”
“Is that so wrong?”
She moaned again, covering her face up. Her body shook with light sobbing but she made no sounds of crying, only sniffling.
“Maggie, please, Maggie...” Cole said with great concern, putting his hand on her arm and peering around, wanting to see her face. “Maggie, I swear it's okay. You hear me?”
“Oh,” she groaned, “oh my poor Maxy, oh my poor Maxy...”
“Baby, please, don’t...” Cole soothed her. His own eyebrows had peaked in the middle, the sounds of her sadness drawing it out of him now too. He said, “Max knows.”
“No, he doesn’t,” she cried.
“He does, Maggie... I'm sorry... He told me this was okay.”
“What? No, he didn’t...”
“He did, Maggie. He knows.”
Max held his breath and watched. This was possibly the worst thing to happen, but if it would stop her from hurting, he wanted it. The sound of his perfect Maggie suffering was killing him. Maybe it would just be better for everybody if she was angry over sad. Maybe he should step out and take his punishment, his shame. But maybe this would be too big a transgression...
Her shoulders opened, her head rolled to face Cole, she said, “What are you saying?”
“I asked him if this was okay and he said he wanted it. Wanted it for you.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear, Maggie. You didn't hurt him by doing this.”
“What?” she gasped, bewildered, rolling away from him, and staring wide-eyed across the room, right at him though she couldn't see him.
“That fucking...what? Why? Why would he do this to me?”
Max’s scrotum bunched up hard like it was made of leather, his shrunken penis recoiled, his heart stopped, his scalp pulled tight, his eyes stretching wide.
Now she whipped around to face Cole, alert and worried. “You didn't show him that video...”
Cole didn't answer, but he shook his head vigorously, telling her no, his eyes wild and scared. He and Cole had both made a mistake here. This wasn't fun, this wasn't sexy, the girl they loved was hurting, she'd broken her own heart because of their actions. Neither of them would want to be party to that.
“Shit,” she whispered to herself, turning from Cole to look out the window at the nautical night. “What am I doing? ...” she whispered, “how did I get here?”
“It's okay, Maggie,” Cole said. “It's all okay. There's no harm done, Maggie, Max and I care about you, we love you.”
He tried to put his hands on her to console her but she shrugged him off putting up a hand of her own in between them and waving him away. She lay down again on the bed her face towards the armoire and Max witnessed the wetness of her eyes and the trembling of her lips. She balled up her fists again and put them over her face.
“Cole, I am in so way over my head I can barely breathe...”
“Secret society, Maggie. We will look out for you. We all look out for each other...”
“You’re not the only other man I sleep with.”
Cole flinched like she’d slapped him. “What?”
Maggie didn’t answer but her fists withdrew and Max could see her staring blankly in his direction.
Cole sat up over her. “Maggie? ...”
She blinked.
“Maggie,” he said firmly, his voice rising with anger. His hand gripped her upper arm.
She shrugged, said, “There’s another guy.”
Cole shook his head in disbelief as he considered what she was saying. He clutched a fist over his heart. Now his eyes rose up to the gap in the armoire and Max could see the anger in him. He let her go, his hands clenched in fists and he sat up on the edge of the bed. Maggie didn’t stir.
She said, “I think he loves me too. Max said I should break his heart.”
Cole’s face turned to watch her as she lay still on the bed, his face forlorn.
She said, “This is all too much for me. Way too much. It’s not what I wanted at all.”
Cole went to her, gripped her arms with both hands and pulled her up to sit and face him. “Don’t. Don’t ever sleep with another man. Okay?”
Max couldn’t see her expression, only the side of her face as she stared into Cole’s eyes.
“Maggie, you don’t ever sleep with someone else.”
“Say it again,” she whispered.
He put a finger in her face, his twisted expression of anger and dominance was genuine. “Don’t you fucking dare sleep with anyone else.”
“Why?” she cried.
“Who is he? Do I know him?”
She shook her head. “Am I a slut?”
His face was angry, disgusted. “No. What?”
“Forbid me,” she cried.
“Forbid you?”
“I hate that I’m bad, Cole,” she said, and she eased her cheek onto his chest. He held her.
But she pushed herself back, said, “Let me go,” her voice a coarse injured whisper. “Just let me go, please.”
“No, Maggie, stay with me.”
She pushed him away angrily, got herself off the bed. Now she stood naked, addressing Cole, who sat up, his face earnest and open to her. Her slender back was to Max, and he felt ashamed that his eyes were drawn to her pert and perfect ass in this painful moment. He chewed the inside of his lip, knowing Cole was seeing her front, bare and unabashed.
She spoke in stuttered breath, shivering tension in the muscles of her back, stiffness in her wagging arms as she railed. She said, “My...my father...the video...the...Ken saw the video...saw us three...the wedding, the dress, the...the...what am I doing with my life, Cole? What am I doing? My Max...wants so much...I want it too...but I don’t want...I don’t know what I want...”
“Hey, whoah,” he said, putting his hands up and moving to the edge of the bed, his feet touching the floor. He moved to hold her wrists, and she thrust her arms out of his reach and turned, one hand on her hip, one across her forehead. She was beautiful like this, one hip cocked, long ponytail over her shoulder, covering one breast.
Somehow she knew about Ken. Somehow she figured Ken had seen them. The word video worried him. Had there been evidence?
Cole stood, Max’s eyes drawn to his swinging, naked cock, and he moved behind Maggie but he didn’t touch her. She began to shake again as if crying, she shed no tears, but her mouth twisted up as if she would.
“God, Max...my Max...”
He flinched at the sound of his name being spoken, but she shook her head, sniffed.
“My Maxy, I cheated on him. How could I do that?”
He needed Cole to act for him, needed Cole to be his proxy—to make their girl feel better, to ease her hurting. Because he couldn’t do it. Didn’t need to if Cole would do it for him.
Cole’s hands covered her shoulders, and she wriggled out of his grip and she turned, punched his chest with the heel of her balled up hand. “How could you do that?”
“I’m sorry, Maggie, I’m sorry. I knew I could. Knew you wanted—”
“I just...I just... Fuck, I have to get out of here...”
She shook her head, her eyes wild and staring as she walked to the foot of the bed and scooped her dress from the floor. She threw it over her head, thrust her arms through the straps and shimmied her hips until it fell in place. Her mouth was set firm and angry, her brow lowered but her eyes glimmered wet with sadness.
“Please
don’t go,” Cole said.
“I have to. We had to bring the Mercedes, remember? I can’t stay here,” she said as she held a hand on the post of the bed to steady herself as she slipped her feet into the high heels.
Max wanted Cole to grab her, hold her, make her stay. Just stop her! Put your arms around her and squeeze her tight until she stops hurting. But he didn’t. He gave her space. He stepped around her, following her. She whisked her keys out of his jacket pocket, snatching it up from where it lay on the floor.
When she was ready, headed to leave, grabbing her clutch off the dresser, she stormed past the gap in the armoire, very close, close enough to feel a breeze from her movement—and that’s when she stopped.
It was deathly quiet, and he was sure she could hear his heart beating a frightening staccato, the wooden walls of the hollow armoire reverberating like the shell of a drum.
“Oh no,” she gasped. She was turned to the side, her body angled to trot down the one step to the lower section, headed for the fireplace, the couch, and the door that would take her out of this luxurious suite. Her head was bowed down, her eyes open and focused, though staring at the carpeted floor. Something had occurred to her. Her head whipped around, her eyes blazing through the gap in the door, looking right at him.
A scream ripped through his insides, his brows darted up in worry and panic. His body began to shudder. She was going to see him, she was going to see him for the liar and manipulator he was. She would see his truth and she would hate him.
She stepped to the armoire door. He smelled her perfume. Her hands came to the knobs and in one second she would whip the doors open and she would see him. Hiding in the armoire, a dirty little pervert in semen-stained sweatpants and a comfortable T-shirt, burrowed in the den he’d made, bringing in sheets and pillows like a dirty bird building its nest.
“Oh, no, oh please,” she whispered, her hands still held on the knobs of the armoire’s double doors.
Her head nodded downward and she let the handles go, afraid of what she would find in the armoire—as afraid as Max that he would be found. She stood, back humped, shoulders slumped. Cole stood at the foot of the bed, head turned down as well, both his hands cupped his genitals.
Maggie walked away. A flood of relief rose up in him. Though she left because she knew he was in there. Knew and didn’t want to see it with her own eyes. In that moment he should have kicked the doors open and held her, and if she refused him, he should have supplicated himself at her feet. He worshiped her. But he did nothing. The moment happening so fast it was easier to let time take its course, let the moment play out in relative safeness behind the doors of his coffin. Her heels clicked the floor, grew distant. Something in him screamed to go to her but it was safe and warm in here, damn it, and for now, maybe she wanted to believe her Max was not hiding in the closet having arranged for a man to seduce her and fuck her so he could watch. Would she ever believe it had been for her?
“Maggie, wait,” Cole said, putting himself into action now. He grabbed his pants off the floor and thrust his feet through the legs, pulled them up, cock bouncing as he went, going without underwear. The door to the room closed. It wasn’t slammed, she wasn’t angry. He wished she was angry, he’d rather her angry than hurt.
“Shit,” Cole hissed, snatching up his shirt and throwing it on.
Max stepped out of the armoire, blinking in the light, he stood waiting to know Cole’s reaction to all this. “Cole...?”
“Dude, don’t talk to me right now.”
“What?”
Cole paused, looked at him, holding his suit jacket in his hands, his shirt buttons misaligned, so one side of the collar sat askew. “You let her have sex with some other fucking guy?”
He nodded, his eyes breaking contact and looking out the window, seeing only the reflection of the interior of the room. No escape.
“Who? Who the fuck?”
He wanted to shrug, say Never mind. Avoid this. But part of him wanted it all to be over. To just repair it all, and maybe Cole could help. “Guy from State. Jay Carmichael.”
Cole tsked, exhaled, shook his head in disgust. “Jay Carmichael? You’re a fucking asshole.”
Now Max watched his friend’s reflection. Saw Cole staring at him, felt the disgust, knew it was deserved.
“Just go,” he told Cole. “Go to her. Make her okay. Don’t let her hurt.”
Cole shook his head, “God, Max...”
“Please, go, Cole.”
“I am,” he said firmly, trying to get Max to look him in the eye.
Max avoided him, still stared at the backward image of the room he saw in the glass. Watched Cole shake his head again, throw his hands up. He slipped his feet into his shoes and ran after Maggie.
When he was alone in the room, he listened to the quiet, to the absence of Maggie and Cole’s sounds. The fire still hissed and popped, his heart pulsed blood along the sides of his neck, rushing past his eardrums. He stood for a long while and thought. Thought about all his mistakes and what on earth would make it all right. What would make his Maggie happy again?
He went to the bed—the bed Cole and she had fucked on, made love on—and he lay on the sheets. When he found the warm spot where his two best friends had coupled he took his shirt off. He put his bare skin on the heat they had generated and the sheets had soaked from their mating bodies. He nestled into it and wondered what tomorrow would bring. Where would they all be? He’d made some mistakes but he wouldn’t be selfish anymore. His hand found a wet spot, and he didn’t avoid it. Instead, he clutched the slippery fabric up in his fist and pulled it close to his heart.
9
Burgeon
Saturday, October 7th
She was waiting for the valet to return with her father’s car when she heard Cole call her name. Right now, though she cared for him, she wanted to be alone. There was nowhere to go. She hugged her own arms and dipped her head. When Cole caught up to her, coming down the steps from the double doors, dress shoes darting quickly on the carpet, he put his hands on her and held her. It was nice to be in his arms, and while she was mad at him and hurting in a way she couldn’t shape in her mind, she was glad for the comfort. She let her back sink into him and he took advantage, sank his arms around her tighter.
“Maggie, if I knew you would be hurt I never would have done this. I only wanted you to be happy. Please don’t be mad at me.”
She whispered, “Was he in that armoire?”
“Tell me you’re okay. I’ll do whatever to make you not hurt.”
“Was Max in the armoire?”
“We love you. Max loves you so much...”
“He was. Tell me if he was, Cole.”
“He wanted to watch.”
Her breath chugged from her, stuttering, stertorous, she wanted to cry but no tears came. She looked up to the sky. They stood under the canopy extending out front of the hotel, over the drive; the outdoor fresh, cold, a chandelier glowed above them in amber. The sky was a tragic amaranthine, dim and starless, a perfect reflection of how she felt right now. Empty, betrayed, made fun of, taken advantage of...and while her tormentors were two men she loved, the pain was still deep. Their love for her may have dulled the blade, but it wasn’t enough to stop the damage.
“I’m just a toy,” she cried and as soon as she said it, she recoiled at her melodrama. But it was true, she felt like flotsam on someone else’s water. She wasn’t in charge of her love, or her sex. Her men were. She could act like she was, fantasize and make believe, but truthfully, she was subject to the whims of her men. Their strategies, their fantasies. “Why did you think I wanted to cheat?”
“I don’t know...”
“I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to cheat on my Max. You just want me... You want to ruin me.”
“Ruin you? Maggie, I would never—”
They lit up in electric halogen as her father’s Mercedes turned the loop out front of the mansion. They both stood upright, their conversation ended.
The car roared to a stop in front of them and the red-vested valet trotted from the car and handed Cole the keys, though it was Maggie who had issued them. Another valet held the door of the SL for her and here she was once again at the whim of men.
“I’ll drive you home,” Cole said, and he guided her to the passenger seat.
There was no alternative she saw but to sit, so she did, scooped her skirt under her legs and put her heels in the foot well of the car, let Cole close her in. He came around into the driver’s side and started the car again.
They stayed silent from The Poirot all the way past Newport. On the Newport Bridge she turned to regard him. His face was stony serious. All the charm and warmth she’d seen from his handsome face on the drive here from her home, all the promise, all the hope she’d secretly kept had been dashed. Now she saw her friend again. Max’s friend. Her friend. Her good buddy, Cole. A man she’d known for years now and had enjoyed as a friend but had never harbored feelings for though she recognized his gifts. Now she’d been with him. In a threesome with her husband-to-be... Anal sex—playful, submissive sex that she’d fooled herself into thinking was simple college hi-jinx. Tonight he’d seduced her, and while neither of them would fully admit it, he’d won a piece of her heart. He’d shown her the sex she’d craved. He’d given her the things that she hadn’t even admitted to herself that she wanted. He’d shown her what he could do. And part of her had always known he was the man to do it. She’d never thought she deserved him. She never thought she was good enough. This Cole sitting next to her had proved she was good enough, had proved that she was worth winning. The sex they’d had tonight was on a different level than she’d ever had in her entire life. Different than with her loving Max, different than her indecent stud Jay. This sex with Cole was what she craved. God, what any woman would crave. Dinner with a handsome, funny man, seduction, intrigue, drama, tying her up and fucking her holes, making her go out of her mind with his dominance, making her come so many times she truly—sitting here right now only half an hour later—couldn’t remember. She remembered tinkling. Remembered a pleasure so enormous washing over her that the only escape she had from it it, before it drove her mad, was to let it go. She’d let her muscles relax or she would have fucking screamed from overwhelming rapture. Then while he continued to rail in and out of her, delivering incredible pleasure with each thrust, something wet had sprinkled form her. Urine or who knows what, it sent a tickle through her that put her lights out. She’d lost consciousness. She was sure of it. Then when she didn’t think she could take any more, he’d disrobed and made love to her.
