Page 52 of Triple Play

Above the water, we’re just having a good time. Under it, this is something else entirely. Still, it’s almost private. Water foams around my waist and over his wrist and forearm. We might be giving Felix a show but there’ll still be something left to the imagination. How I used to pick out dancing outfits: ninety percent naked is sometimes sexier than being entirely unclothed. I giggle at the memory.

“You good?” Blake asks.

“You tell me.” I slide his hand under my swimsuit, almost—almost—where I want him. Blake’s breathing picks up. My nipples tighten to hard points against my triangle top. I don’t have any idea how we look.

Or, given how Felix is watching us, eyes hot—maybe I do.

People have called me wild: men at the club, when they didn’t realize how much control it took to wrap myself around a pole and make it look effortless. When I told everyone I wanted to be a dancer instead of going to college.

A different kind of wild from being on a fifth-floor deck under the cover of the pale urban night. It’s February. It’s probably still snowing at home. Something about that makes this even more surreal.

Finally, Blake’s fingers go where I want them—the callused tips of his fingers against the throb of my clit. He strokes a few times, exploratory, as if he’s trying to figure me out. “That’s it, that’s it,” he says in my ear in a low, praising drawl. “Get my hand all wet.” Like that’s something he wants, that he’s been thinking about for the month we’ve been together.

“You gonna taste me off your fingers?” I ask.

That gets an un-Blake-like growl. He raises his hand to his own tongue. “Clearly, I got some work to do.”

Across the tub, Felix has stilled. His eyes are wide, seeking, like he can’t quite believe any of this.

“You enjoying the show?” I tease.

Silently, he nods.

The show. Fuck. We’re giving someone a show all right. I scan around for the unblinking eye of a security camera.

Blake must feel me tense, because his hand recedes from my stomach. “We can stop,” he whispers.

“Hey, I’m good.” I kiss him, quick, reassuring. “There just might be a camera.”

“Oh. Huh. Yeah.” Like he’s just now realizing that we’re in relative public. He does a similar perusal of the deck area, his gaze landing on the chair where he shaved Felix’s beard, the chaise holding our clothes and phones. The table, harboring drinks in a bucket of ice. It’s funny how quickly you get attached to a place. Or a person. Or people. “I don’t see a camera,” he says.

“Just ’cause you can’t see ’em doesn’t mean they aren’t there.” I bite my lip before I can add more. Like that there were cameras everywhere in the club, mostly to keep the dancers safe and to avoid accusations that we rolled clients.

He shifts me gently off his lap, then rises from the hot tub. Felix follows, adjusting himself in the wet cling of his swimsuit. “You take this side and I’ll take that one,” Felix says.

They spend a minute staring up at the half-roof that shields the hot tub from the upper floors. “Got it,” Felix says. Sure enough, there’s a camera mounted in the corner, not one of those black half-spheres we had at the club, but one like an old camcorder.

Blake drags over a chair. “Here, steady this.”

“You sure you don’t want me to do it?” Felix asks.

Blake laughs. “I wanna stay in this thing’s blind spot. No chance you wouldn’t be seen being all—” He makes a gesture denoting the span of Felix’s shoulders.

“I could,” Felix presses. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

Blake laughs again. “You think you two are keeping me out of trouble?” He doesn’t exactly sound mad about it. The opposite, in fact. “Now duck your big body down and hold this chair.”

Felix does as he’s told, steadying the chair as Blake climbs up it. The camera’s mounted high, but Blake is tall, his fingers agile and reaching. Slowly, he snakes an arm under it, shifting the camera until it peers out into the parking lot.

“Are we adding this to the list—evading security?” Felix asks.

“Only because I’ve learned from experience.” Blake hops down from the chair, grinning. “Now we’re alone.”

For a brief second, some part of me is almost disappointed that the only souvenir we’ll have from this trip is memories. Another part of me has to wonder: would he do all that to protect us if he knew the truth about me and Felix?

Both of them pad back to the hot tub. Blake slides beside me and pulls me on his lap. Felix sits on the bench near us—closer than before.

“That better?” Blake’s arms tighten around me.

---