I ignore Smith and concentrate on Bric. "So you do like it?"

He shrugs. "I wouldn't let him watch if I didn't."

"And I wouldn't want to watch if I didn't like it."

I look at Smith. "You, I understand. You're weird. You're a deviant. You're on the verge of being a predator. I just need to know where the rest of you fall in this. Are you like him?" I ask Quin, but motion to Smith.

"Yeah," he says. "I like it. I like being Number Two this time, I'm not gonna lie. I get to fuck you any way I want and no one gets to be there but me. But I like being Number One as well. And Number Three. And if you give it a chance, Chella, you'll like it too. I know you will because you're a dirty fucking whore."

"Just like us," Bric says.

Smith laughs.

I'm quiet again as I think things through. This time they stay quiet with me. All the noise from downstairs in the lobby and the Black Room disappears as I run the consequences of this game through my mind.

"Explain everything," I finally say. "Tell me why you do this. Why you do it this way. And if you lie to me"-I look at Smith for this-"I will walk out. I want to know the truth and if you give me that, I'll think about it some more. But if you don't, if I get an inkling that you're manipulating me, I'll leave. I will, Smith Baldwin. I'll walk away from you and never look back."

"Of course we're manipulating you," Bric says. I'm confused for a moment, unsure if Bric is telling me to walk away, or just stating the obvious. "We're manipulating each other too," he continues. "Smith can't touch you. At all. Quin gets anything he wants, as long as you become friends at the same time. And I only get you with Smith's permission. It's a fucked-up game, Chella, but it works."

"How?" I ask. "How the fuck does any of this make sense to you?"

"We're building trust, Chella," Quin says. "We trust each other to follow the rules and if we all do that, if we all keep to the plan, we end up happy."

"Together," Smith says. "You're forgetting the final rule. There are no rules when we're all together."

"You want to gang-bang me?" I laugh. I laugh because it's sick and dirty and the fact that I'm thinking about it makes me...

"The other night, Chella," Quin continues, "you said something like, 'Who enters a plural relationship with rules like no fucking and more talking?'"

Smith laughs. "God, Chella, I kinda love you already."

Even Bric laughs.

"She's fucking funny as hell, you guys," Quin says. "I can't wait for you to see it. But Chella, it's not a plural relationship. It's a menage."

"That's not what Rochelle told me. She said-"

"We never got this far with Rochelle," Bric explains. "She never liked Smith. They never became friends. She liked Quin and me, and we were One and Three, so we didn't need Smith. It was always off-balance."

"But I like you, Chella," Quin says. "I'm not gonna walk away from you like Smith walked away from Rochelle. I'm gonna show up every Sunday at midnight and I'm gonna fuck you senseless until I have to leave. And then Bric will come and you will let Smith watch."

"And then one day, Chella"-Smith picks up the conversation-"you'll want all of us. At the same time. We can go right to that tonight, if you want. We can jump right in and get started. Forget about all this bullshit getting to know each other. But even if you take your time, we will end up together. We will all fuck you," he says, leaning over to kiss my mouth.

I want to collapse from that kiss. His hand is on my neck, his thumb feeling my pulse. And then he whispers in my mouth, "You put my collar back on. You want this. You know you want this."

He holds on to the gold choker even as he backs away. His fingers threaded underneath it, pressing against my neck. He holds on to me like I'm already his.

We are all silent for a moment because the server comes asking about food. One of them orders for me. But I am stuck in my thoughts, my head a jumbled mess from their offer.

How did I get here?

Champagne is poured and Smith is placing my hand on a fluted glass, lifting it to my lips. I drink, a long gulp as I work through what this means.

"Have you ever had a threesome?" Bric asks.

It takes me a second to realize he's speaking to me. I want to say no. I want to say it emphatically. Loudly. Loaded with self-righteous indignation.

But I can't. Because it's a lie. And they'd know it was a lie. They obviously see something in me that gives them permission to make me this offer. Maybe it's the fact that you agreed to Rochelle's plan? And maybe it's because you let Quin fuck you, even though he thought you were Rochelle? Maybe it's because you've been down this road before?

Yeah. It might be that.

So I say, "Yes." Because Quin is right. Bric is right. "I'm a dirty fucking whore."

"Just like us," Bric says. "We're all dirty here."

"Be dirty with us, Chella," Quin says. "I'm gonna be dirty with you no matter what. I'm counting the fucking minutes until Sunday night. But it gets so much better when you give in completely."

I take a deep, deep breath and then let it out in a long, controlled exhale. "I need to think about it. It's a big decision for me. It's one thing," I say, gathering my courage. "It's one thing to date three guys at the same time."

"You do that often?" Smith laughs. "Jesus Christ, Chella. I really do love you now."

"No," I say. "Not anymore. But it's another thing altogether to let you..."

"Fuck all your holes at the same time?" Smith finishes.

"For fuck's sake, Smith," Bric says, pounding a fist on the table. "Would you shut up and let her finish."

"Sorry." He laughs. "I'm sorry."

But he doesn't look sorry.

"I need to think about it," I say, looking at Bric. He's the sensible one, I can tell. The boss of this place. He's running the show. Keeping Quin's big personality in check. Keeping Smith's deviant side under wraps. "I just want to go to the party and forget about it for a while. I don't even want dinner. I just want to have fun and come home, and then sleep on it. Can I do that? Please? With no more comments?"

They all look at each other, silent for once.

And then Smith says, "It's just a peek, Chella. If you stay. It's just a peek into the forbidden. You can leave any time you want. It can last one night, or one week, or one month, or... forever."

He says the word forever softly. Almost hesitantly. It makes me look at him differently for a moment. Like he's a person and not an asshole.

"It's carnal, and sensual, and erotic, Chella," he continues in that same voice. "That's all it is. A small trip into the dark."

"A peek," I say, remembering our toast.

"Just a peek," Quin echoes. "You don't even have to like us. You can just do it once and leave. Or you can keep the plural relationship going for a while, try it out. Get to know us better. We're not bad guys. We just like to have some really sick sex."

I smile at his words. Smith was right the other night when he said I'd fall for Quin first. I like him already. So what does it mean for the other two? I can see why Rochelle fell in love with Quin. He's sweet. He's not overpowering like Bric. But he's still in control. And he's not demeaning like Smith, even though he says some of the same things. It's different coming from Quin. It's fun, not dark.

"Come on," Bric says, pushing back in his chair so it makes a scraping sound on the floor. "Let's go to the party. Have some fun tonight. You can think about it later."

Smith and Quin both stand as I do. All our chairs scraping across the floor together.

I let Bric lead me downstairs and wait as he gets our coats. He helps me put mine on and then takes my hand and leads me out to the car. When I get in, he slips in next to me, leaning forward to tell the driver the address of the party before making the blacked-out partition go up to give us privacy.

He scoots close to me, puts his arm around me. His kiss is soft and slow. And my tongue responds. When he pulls back I look him in the eyes. We smile together.

"Did you ever just want love, Chella?"

"Huh?" I ask.

"Did you ever just want a guy to love you for you, Chella? And not your body? Did you ever want him to just hold you, and kiss you, give you all the attention you crave, with zero expectations?"

I let out a small laugh. "Those guys don't exist."

"I'm that guy," he says. "As Number Three, I'm that guy." His hand finds its way under my dress and he softly caresses my leg. His other hand is on my breast, squeezing lightly. "I will kiss you, and touch you, and talk to you. And at the end of the night I have no expectations for sex. Didn't you ever want a guy to give you all those things and not want something in return?"

God. That's the dream right there. Unconditional love.

"If you stay and say no to the menage, that's what you'll have with me. I will shower you with gifts, and affection, and attention. I will buy you anything you want. I will take you places and give you new friends. A new life. I'll make your dream come true, Chella. Whatever that dream might be. And I'll still be able to lick your pussy," he says, kissing my mouth again. "And you can still suck my cock if you want. You don't have to go to bed filled with longing. There are so many ways to make our time fun without fucking."

"But I can't ever have more, can I?"

"You can with Quin," he says. "He can give you what I can't. And more. He can be your boyfriend, if you want. Two days out of the week you can have the closest thing to perfect. He's got no real rules other than to know you. Intimately. And Smith, just forget about him. Almost everyone does. He doesn't have to be a part of this if you don't want. Just cut him out. Tell me no and it's done. He'll never be anything more than somebody in the shadows. You can have everything you need in a relationship, Chella. And you can have it right now, for as long as you want."

"But I only get it one piece at a time, is that it?"

Bric gives me a sad smile. "You don't have to think of it that way. Did it ever occur to you that there's no such thing as the perfect man? Woman? Relationship? That it's an illusion? People go looking for it like it's a thing. It's not, Chella. Love is not a thing, it's a state of being. And it's so unrealistic to expect one person to be love."

"Is this why you guys do this? Because you know you'll never find the perfect woman?"

My question makes him chuckle softly. "We do it because we're men. And we want things we can't have. Doesn't everyone want things they can't have?"

"Yes," I agree reluctantly. "I want so many things I can't have."

"Just think it over. And take your time. We're not in a rush."

He holds my hand after that. He talks about the snow. Why we're getting much of it. He talks about tonight's party with people he knows from work. I want to ask about work because I have no idea what any of them do. But he's busy talking about tomorrow's party too. Then other things. His day tomorrow. The dress he wants me to wear.

And when we get to the party down in the Tech Center, I feel... normal again. The dark is back where it belongs. Tucked neatly away in that place I put it years ago.

Chapter Seventeen - Bric.

"I could care less about the parties, or the people, or the holidays, for that matter," I say as I dance with Chella.

"Then why do you come?" She laughs. It's a slow song and we are facing each other. Close, so her words and her breath heat up my chest because she's resting her head there. Our feet move in slow circles around the dance floor, just one couple among dozens.

I don't know what she's thinking right now. I certainly gave her a lot to think about. Not to mention all the things that were said-and left unsaid-at the Club meeting. But she seems to be taking it well. She's smiling, and being friendly with the many, many, many people who feel the need to come up to me tonight and thank me for Club contributions over the years.

"To dance. Slowly," I say. "Just like this."

"It's nice," Chella says. "What's this party for again?"

"Cancer research fundraiser. The Club gives a lot of money to this organization."

"Oh," she says, pulling back a little. "Is the Club your job?"

"Kind of. I run it, and we use the dues to donate. Plus Smith's money. Most of what I hand out is Smith's money."

"Where does he get his money? Does he have a job? I've looked him up on the internet and there's really nothing there aside from-well, things like this. Charities and foundations."

"He doesn't get money. Or make money. He just has money."

"It has to come from somewhere."

"It comes from his trust. If you had to give his job a label, then I guess you'd call him a philanthropist."

"Hmm," Chella says. "I don't think that word fits him at all."

"Why not?" I'm actually fascinated to hear what she thinks of Smith. I know he's playing some kind of game with her that doesn't involve Quin and me. But what it is, I'm not sure yet.

"Well, philanthropy implies a love for humanity that involves caring about people and nurturing them as a group. And maybe I don't know him well, but he comes across as crass and egomaniacal. Not someone concerned with the welfare of the human race as a whole."

"He actually does a lot of good with his money. This organization isn't even one of his top ten beneficiaries and he gave them twenty million dollars last year. He gives mostly to humanist endeavors, and mostly to organizations overseas. So you'll never go to one of those parties. Unless of course, you marry him or something." I laugh. "And he gets you all to himself for weeks at a time. But I wouldn't hold your breath."

She smiles weakly, but gets my meaning. Smith is off limits to everyone, even her.

"We shouldn't waste our time talking about Smith. He's a lost cause. Besides, I'm curious to know what you're thinking."

"About?" Chella counters. She knows what about, but I'm happy to spell it out.

"About the last rule."

"The gang bang?"

I laugh so hard people start staring at us.

"Quiet," Chella says, looking around nervously.

"I'm sorry. I just... didn't expect you to characterize it that way."

"That's what it is though, right? The three of you taking turns with me. At the same time. I'm a realist, Bric. I like to call things like they are. I don't need pretty words or false promises to understand the darkness."

I stop dancing and look down at her. She's not short, but I'm tall, so her eyes only come up to my neck. "It's not a gang bang, Marcella. It's a menage, just like Quin said. It's a relationship. Not a one-time group fuck."