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“I love you, husband.”
“I know, Nymph. You’re my whole heart.”
I took him deep into my mouth, sucking him the way he liked, his hand buried in my hair, directing me.
We needed to talk more, but right then reconnecting and letting him dominate me felt more important.
Chapter Five: Loïc
Loïc excels at things that do not force him to feign humanity.
Loïc Leduc, Journal 14
I paced at the foot of the low bed until Jack sat up. They rubbed at their eyes and grimaced, then leaned over and flipped on the bedside lamp.
“Have you been here long?” Jack’s voice was garbled with sleep.
“I don’t know. Fifteen minutes? Thirty?”
“What time is it?”
“About three, I think.”
They looked out the window to confirm what? That it was still dark out?
“Rough night?” they asked blearily.
I hooked my thumbs into the pockets of my leather pants and shrugged.
“Trouble with Martine?”
“No.”
It felt like I was vibrating. At least my teeth had stopped chattering. I strode to the loft’s kitchen area, poured myself a drink, then returned to Jack’s bed.
“Isn’t it a bit early for whiskey?”
“Is it ever too early for whiskey?” I sat down in my usual spot on the floor and pressed my back against the wall.
Nothing felt real.
Loïc wasn’t real.
“You know, you could try something wild and see me during the day.”
“Would you even recognize me in daylight?”
Jack ran a hand through their rumpled hair. The sheet had fallen to their waist and their threadbare T-shirt did little to hide how stick thin they still were. It made me uncomfortable. If Jack got sick, there wasn’t enough meat on them to keep them from drying up and blowing away in the next moderate wind. How would I get through life without having them to vomit up my problems to every few days?
Maybe I wasn’t paying them enough. Money made no sense. Numbers were other people’s tools and a mystery to me.
“Did something happen?”
“I went to a club.”
“And?”
“I got picked up.”
