“Hi, Noah.”
I snapped my head around. It was Graham. “Hi, Graham. I was just…”
“Eavesdropping?”
“No!” I pointed at the ceiling. “I was just admiring the ceiling.”
“I painted it myself.”
“Really?”
He spat out a laugh and shook his head. “No. I’m kidding. I can barely write my own name.”
After an awkward moment of silence, I motioned to the stairs. “Are they off-limits?”
He seemed confused by my question. “Off-limits? No. Why—”
“The girls are up there.”
He raised his brow and motioned for me to follow. “What more reason do we need to go up?”
“Well, look who it is,” said Sasha. “The man who made this whole meet-up possible.”
Graham pointed to me. “I found this lost puppy wandering the halls.”
“I’m not a lost puppy.”
Bonita patted the empty seat next to her. “Come join me.”
My ears perked up. I wagged my tail and trotted over to her.
Sitting next to Bonita, everything was instantly better. I’d forgotten why I was in such a sour mood. I exchanged small talk with Sasha and Graham. I asked how they’d come to know each other and got a coy response that had the three of them giggling.
“Noah, my friend,” said Sasha as she rose from her seat and stretched. “It’s been quite a night. I must leave you.” She touched Bonita on the cheek. “But I’m leaving you in good company.” She extended her hand for Graham to take, and he escorted her out of the room.
“Bonita, I want to talk about what happened.”
Her eyes widened. “What happened?”
“We kissed.”
“Oh, right.”
“Had you forgotten?”
She put her hand on mine. “No! No, of course not. It’s just that so much has happened recently. I didn’t know which event you were referring to.”
“I was referring to the ‘event’ where I kissed you and confessed how badly I want you and have wanted you for a long time. I thought that might have been a game-changer.” Then, despite the usual control I have over my tongue, I added sarcastically, “What other game-changing event could have happened in the last twenty-four hours?”
Bonita looked from me to the camera she was holding in her lap then back. “Well, can you keep a secret?”
“You know I can.”
“This one’s big, but it’s not exactly a secret because Sasha said I could share it with you.”
“With me?”
“Well, with all of you, the Savage Seven. But it can’t leave Iceland.”
I waited for her to continue, but she insisted I promise, and I swear, and I promise again to keep the secret.
“Bonita, you’ve known me long enough. You know you can trust me. You know you can tell me anything.”
She stood and turned from me, as if she were going to tell her story to the walls and not to me. “Last night,” she began, “when you guys went to the neighbor’s for dinner,”—she turned to me—“I filmed Sasha—”
“Cool.”
“—and her… staff, or what we mistook as her staff because they’ve been so helpful. They’re really just her friends—”
I nodded.
“—and her lovers.”
“Lovers?”
Bonita beamed and nodded emphatically.
“Yeah, I picked up on that between her and Graham,” I said.
“And Dan,” Bonita added, and she sat down again next to me.
“Both Graham and Dan?”
“And Harry and Seth and Stevie and Jim and Bash.”
I was floored. “But how is that possible?”
Bonita chuckled. “I asked myself the same question. But last night, I saw with my own eyes and camera.”
My mouth was open, but no words came out. Bonita said that she couldn’t show me the footage. She’d promised Sasha. Instead, as agreed upon with Sasha, Bonita told me in detail what she had filmed.
I got hard listening to her describe the acts she’d seen. I put my hand on Bonita’s leg. As her story got more and more vivid, more and more intense, my hand caressed farther up her leg.
Bonita told me how the men gave Sasha their bodies to explore while taking turns fucking her in various positions. As she talked, she spread her legs apart, enough for my hand to slide in.
I cupped her crotch and massaged. Bonita kept talking, but she rocked and gyrated, riding my hand like she described Sasha riding her lovers. I leaned in. She leaned in and turned her head. As she spoke, her lips gently brushed against my cheek. I took her hand and placed it on my throbbing shaft.
When she finished, she stood and walked to the far side of the room.
I collapsed against the sofa. “That was the best fucking story I’ve ever heard.”
“Do you think we can trust the others with it?” she asked.
“I trust them,” I said.
“How much?”
“Enough to keep a secret.”
“Enough to share a secret?” she asked, and she leaned into the word “share.”
I caught what she was driving at, or at least I thought I did. Does she want to be shared?
A mental image flashed in my mind of the scenes Bonita had just described. But it was not Sasha I saw being shared. It was Bonita. And it was hot.