Page 8 of The Shared Game

“You really are clueless if you think I’m going to let you miss out on all the fun.” I typed with one hand while the other took care of my needs.

“Yeah, share the love!” Kevin chimed in with his trademark enthusiasm. The comment was funny enough to have me laughing, but the idea behind it was more than enough to tip me over the edge.

Kevin and Aaron together, with me directing every move. Aaron and Kevin sharing me, worshipping every inch of my body in ways I’d never felt before.

The conversation had gone quiet while I rolled and thrashed with pleasure. Captain Snowball slept through the entire thing, bringing me back down to Earth with a bump. It was hard to feel sexy when even a cat sleeping next to you wasn’t moved by your orgasm, but it didn’t stop this thing I was feeling. This hope rising in my chest that Saturday was going to be something special.

“I’ll get on working the rules out for Pleasure Town. See you both Saturday.”

“Leave ‘em wanting more.” I chuckled under my breath, signed off, and dragged myself to bed.

After our little exchange, a lot more was riding on the night than just making friends and having a good time. There was a pressure, but in a good way. One I knew I would rise to once I was placed in the spotlight.

Now I just had to workshop some impromptu rules for a game called ‘Pleasure Town’ that didn’t yet exist. No pressure.

Five - Aaron

I was more nervous and hornier than I’d ever been. It was a strange combination, but potent.

I thought the ‘home turf advantage’ would make me calmer, or at least bring me a fraction of Kevin’s effortless charm or Paisley’s bravery.

No such luck. I stared at the door like a condemned man, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.

I liked Kevin. I was genuinely thinking of making a move on him when Paisley waltzed into the room and changed everything. Now I had to figure out if she was making things better or worse.

There was the chance they would hit it off, and I would end up ignored, although Kevin had shot me several private messages reassuring me that wasn’t going to happen. They were scattered among other messages asking if I would be okay with him taking a run at Paisley—to which I replied a noncommittal ‘that’s fine’—but at least he was making sure I felt included.

I kind of got the hint that he was flirting with me during those exchanges, too, although I had no idea. I’d never flirted with another man, and had no idea what was banter and what was an outright promise. “We’ll have a good time no matter what,” signed off with a winking emoji, could easily be interpreted as either.

I’d decided all week to do what I did best: ignore my feelings and put everything down to my imagination. Bury myself in my work and not think too much about what any of our messages had meant so far. That was the plan.

I didn’t stick to it. I reread every exchange. I obsessed over the details. I pored over every detail with a detective’s rigor. By the time Saturday arrived, I’d imagined every ‘what if’ scenario possible. Everything but the chance that I might be the one who gets the girl, or the guy, or both.

Was my lack of dating success coloring my every thought? It was possible, but it was also hard to argue with results. With empirical data of the disaster that was my love life, or lack thereof.

I’d kept myself busy as much as possible during the day. I’d cleaned every corner—even behind the couch—and shopped for snacks. Now everything looked ready to eat, perfectly displayed next to my large, custom-made board game table.

I was still obsessing over which detail I’d most likely overlooked or gotten completely wrong when the doorbell rang, jolting me from my reverie and making me let out a small, very unmanly yelp.

I collected myself and checked the time. It was an hour before anyone was due to arrive, but Kevin was standing on my doorstep, looking as confusingly enticing as he always did.

“I’m early, and I brought beers!” He held them up for the door camera.

Composing myself and hoping that he didn’t hear me scream, I answered the door.

“You’re very early.” I tried to admonish him, but the words lacked any edge whatsoever.

“Of course. We have to plan. May I?”

I moved aside, letting him into my house, letting him into my life just a little bit more than I ever had before.

“What are we planning, Kevin?”

He moved past me and set the beer down next to the snack table. Turning his attention to me, he said, “How best to make Paisley comfortable enough so that something exciting happens.”

There it was. He’d said the quiet part out loud. It wasn’t specific, but it also included me for now. I casually leaned against the wall, steadying my racing heart.

I took a moment to compose myself before replying. My gaze wandered over his athletic physique. From the form-fitting tight T-shirt to the casual, low-rise jeans. Every part of him screamed effortless, though I knew more than a little work went into those toned muscles. As a powerlifter and dedicated gym rat, game recognized game.