* * *
Gabe: I don’t like Elise having a rough day at work.
Banks: No, me either.
Tobias: Who made it rough? I’m a lover, not a fighter, but I can make an exception.
Banks: Can one even fight in silk boxers?
Tobias: Yes, as long as no one minds my tumbled out cock. Spoiler: no one ever does.
Gabe: I got challenged to a lot of fights growing up, but no one was ever my size. Didn’t feel fair, punching someone smaller than me.
Elise: That’s because you’re a good man, Gabe.
Banks: She has a soft spot for you, Gabe. Don’t screw it up.
Gabe: Maybe we could just steal something from whoever made you have a bad day.
Banks: Way to ignore my advice.
Elise: GABE! No stealing!
Tobias: Elise, do you like me yet? Have we made progress?
Tobias: Because I think of nothing but ripping your fucking panties off.
* * *
The group chat goes quiet, but it’s not quiet in my room. Or inside my body. Everything is pulsing. Scrambling. The lamp glow of my room has gone from functional to seductive, the cool Manhattan breeze doing nothing to keep my skin from heating, flushing. Maybe the events of the day and my need to distract myself are making me extra brazen. Or maybe it’s the safe headspace these men put me in, but for whatever reason, I find myself standing in front of the mirror hanging on my closet door and stripping off my night shirt.
I face the window, cock a hip and look back over my shoulder, snapping a picture of my reflection. Of me, long, dark hair down and messy to the middle of my back, covered only in baby blue, bikini-cut underwear. I send the picture to the chat, alone with…
* * *
Elise: These panties?
Gabe: Fuck.
Banks: FUCK.
Tobias: Yes. Those ones. I can feel them in my hands right now.
Elise: Too bad I don’t like you yet.
Tobias: Strongly considering ditching that requirement.
Banks: Strongly considering showing up outside your door.
Tobias: Curious about the silk boxers, mate?
Banks: I’m talking to Elise, bonehead.
Elise: Where did Gabe go?
Banks: You don’t know your own power, Elise.
Elise: Meaning?
Tobias: Meaning, old Gabe is likely having a wank to your dirty little picture.
Gabe: I’m back.
Tobias: Good God, man! Google the word “stamina.”
Elise: We’ll work on it together, Gabe.
* * *
I type those words so easily and the chat goes quiet. Sure, I can’t see their faces, but intuition tells me we’re all savoring my acknowledgment that if there is work to be done between us, I’m willing to participate. That we’re not only official, I might even be willing to change and grow with them. When I returned home from my work debacle, I felt like bait dangling from the end of a fishing hook. Chatting with Tobias, Gabe and Banks makes me feel protected. Supported. Surrounded by three very different forcefields.
* * *
Banks: What are you and I going to work on, Elise?
* * *
My breath accelerates and I lay down on my belly, letting the comforter rasp my sensitive nipples, my thighs flexing, toes extended. It takes me a moment to locate an answer, because honestly, there isn’t much for Banks to improve on. Except maybe…
* * *
Elise: Maybe you could be gentle sometimes. Emphasis on sometimes.
Banks: I can do that. For you.
Tobias: And me, love?
Elise: We’re going to work on the Quiet Game. It’s an American custom.
Tobias: Sounds hot.
Elise: Oh, you have no idea.
Tobias: Would you like to see what you’ve done to me?
* * *
Dick pics are the scourge of womankind. But only if they’re unsolicited, right?
* * *
Elise: Yes.
* * *
A moment later, a picture arrives in the chat from Tobias. He is actually wearing silk boxers. Dove gray. City lights glow in the background. And in the foreground?
“Mother Mary.”
A bead of sweat literally rolls down the slope of my back.
* * *
Elise: I don’t think that’s tumbling anywhere.
Tobias: Fair point. Too fucking stiff to tumble, isn’t it?
Banks: Are you done?
Tobias: Don’t I bloody wish.
Gabe: Elise, do you feel better? I need you to feel better.
Elise: I do.
Elise: Thanks, Fam.
Tobias: I’m printing this out and framing it!
Banks: Elise = traitor.
Tobias: There you have it. The power of a dick pic. From me, obviously.
Gabe: If you need me to walk you into work tomorrow, you call me.
Gabe: I don’t need stamina for that. ??
* * *
I’m actually giggling into my pillow, afraid to wake up Shayna on the other side of the apartment. I don’t know how to tell Gabe I’m not going into work tomorrow or if I’ll even have a job going forward. This is enough. It’s enough that they’ve reassured me just by being themselves. We all sign off with various goodnights. I tell Tobias I’ll see him at the rugby game tomorrow and wish Banks good luck.