Shared Tension, Mutual Release
When she invites both men into her space, the lines blur between rivalry and curiosity.
She texted me late — the kind of message that doesn’t ask permission. “Come over. He’s here too. Thought you’d like to meet.” I knew exactly who she meant. Jay. The one she’d been toying with. The one she’d told me about while I was still catching my breath in her shower. I didn’t ask questions. Just got in the car and drove. By the time I walked in, the lights were low. The kind of warm amber glow she always sets when sh...
