"I'm staying anyway," he says, unknotting his tie and pulling it through his shirt collar. He hangs it on a tie rack I never even knew this closet had.

"You can't just stay here." I laugh. "It's my house. And Quin and Bric will be mad."

"Do you care?" he asks, unbuttoning his shirt. I stop caring for a second as I watch him slip the shirt down his arms. They are nice arms. And when he turns his back to me, I stare at the muscle of his shoulders.

"I do care, actually. I like this so far. I'm interested in playing along. So I don't want to be the reason we fail."

"We're already failing," he says, unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop to the floor. He stands there in his black boxer briefs. Hard. His cock is still hard and even though I shouldn't be turned on again so soon after what we just did, I am. "Bric is telling you to cut me out. You're trying to break the rules without breaking the rules. I'm going along-"

"You're going along?" I ask, my voice a lot louder than his. "This whole night was practically your idea and you know it."

"Yup," he says. "It was my evil little plan to get you downstairs so we could fuck under the pretense we were all together."

"Then why are you being such an asshole right now?"

"Because, Marcella," he says, pulling on a pair of plaid pajama pants that-God help me, because it's really not the time or place-make me chuckle a little. Smith Baldwin in pajama pants. It's like we've morphed into this married couple, only someone forgot to tell me about it. "You're playing with us, aren't you?"

"You're playing with me," I say. "What's the difference?"

"The difference is that you found us, didn't you? I only thought I found you that night. I didn't. You came to us. So what's going on, Chella?"

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "Rochelle-"

"Fuck Rochelle," he snaps. "No one cares about Rochelle. And don't use her as your excuse."

My stomach aches. A dark, cold, hard feeling sits down in the pit. Like it's always been there, but I got used to it. And then it went away, unnoticed, but now it's back.

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

I swallow down the sickness inside me. "I swear, I haven't."

"I don't believe you."

"Then leave," I say, standing up taller. Why should I let him know so much about me? I know nothing about him, other than he's involved in some pretty sick shit.

"I live here now."

"What?" I laugh, but it's not funny. "You don't."

He walks out of the closet, flicking the light off as he passes me, walks over to the switch on the wall, flicks the other lights off as well, and then gets into bed.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Go to bed, Marcella. We had a nice time tonight and it was clever, right?" He stares at me in the darkness, his face just barely visible in the dim moonlight filtering in from outside. "We got what we wanted and we didn't cheat."

"Didn't we? If we were being honest we would've told Quin and Bric we were there."

He says nothing, He just smiles.

"Why are you staying here?" I ask.

"Why are you staying at the Club?"

"You guys want me there."

"I want you here, Chella. Not there."

"They want me there. Quin and Bric."

"Do you know what you want? Out of this arrangement?"

I draw in a long breath of air and then let it out slowly. "No. But I'm doing my best to figure it out."

"Are we helping you? Or hurting you?"

"I'm not sure yet," I admit.

"You know what I want?"

I shake my head. "No. I have no idea what you want."

"Don't you think you should know that?" he asks. "Before you go much further."

"What do you want?" I ask in a small whisper.

"You. Obviously."

"Then why didn't you just ask me out yourself? Why are you in this relationship with two other guys?"

"Because they help me process things. They give me perspective and clarity. And I like rules. Rules make sense. I like things that make sense. And love... love makes no sense at all."

None of what he's saying makes any sense to me, either. Not one bit of it. "Will you come upstairs Wednesday night? When I'm with Bric?"

"If you invite me, yes."

"I'm inviting you."

"Then I'll see you then." He turns over and faces the window. "Goodnight, Chella."

I stand in the doorway for a few more seconds, unsure of what to do or say. But he's dismissed me. So I guess it's not even my decision to make. I leave, whispering, "Goodnight, Smith," as I walk upstairs to bed.

I know what I want. I have so many ideas about what I want. But I'm too afraid to say them. Too ashamed to tell him. Any of them, not just Smith. I'm even ashamed to tell myself.

Because I like it in the dark. I don't need a light to guide me through it.

And I didn't need a peek. Because I've been living in the dark for a very long time, I just didn't want to admit it.

Chapter Twenty-Two - Quin.

"I don't get it," Chella says.

I got here last night. It was a little weird to be OK with Chella and not think too much about Rochelle. Weird, in that I feel a lot of guilt for replacing a girl I truly loved with this new one, who I'm truly starting to like. But I didn't try to fuck her, and she didn't mind me sleeping next to her and being all chaste, so...

I don't know. Maybe we're becoming friends.

"What's not to get?" I ask back. When I got up this morning she was already awake. The coffee was made, the TV was on-some morning news show-and she was sitting on the new couch staring out the window at the gray sky that's threatening more snow.

Then she started with the questions. Why do we do this? What do we get out of it? Is she doing a good job?

I feel bad that it's so confusing for her, I really do. But it's not confusing for me.

"You said you get me. But Smith said the same thing. So I don't understand. If you really wanted me, then why share with each other?"

"No," I say, rubbing the stubble on my chin. "No, that's not what he meant." I don't think, anyway. It's not what I meant, I do know that for sure. "I'm not in love with you, Marcella. I didn't fall in love with Rochelle right away either. So it's nothing personal."

"So why am I the prize?"

I stare at her face and just now notice how blue her eyes are. It's a striking contrast to her dark mahogany hair. "You're not a prize. You're just... I don't really know how to explain it. You're just... ours."

"So it's the sharing that you like? You say you're in love with Rochelle, but you didn't mind sharing her with Bric and Smith?"

"That's why we have the numbers and the rules."

"Explain," she says.

"Bric already explained-"

"I know, but I need to hear it again. It all went too fast and I just want to make sure I understand."

I sigh. I really don't like talking about the arrangement. But she deserves to have her questions answered. "Number One is there to deny you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Number Two is there to satisfy you after the abstinence. Number Three is there to give you what you really want-Number One, with conditions."

"How do you decide who is who? Like how did you get to be One and then be Two? Do you just go in order? Taking turns?"

"No. Number One goes to the guy who likes her most. Usually, but not always, the guy who makes the offer."

I think she stops breathing. "So Smith-"

"Yeah," I say. "He's the one who wanted you. I was the one who wanted Rochelle even though Bric found her first. I just... liked her."

"Has Bric ever been Number One?" she asks. She's gripping her coffee mug so tightly, her knuckles are white.

"I'm sure he has, but I don't remember which girl it was. One of the meaningless early ones. Before we really got a handle on things. He lets us choose most of the time."

"And yet you and Smith both say I'm what you get out of this." She shakes her head. It makes no sense to her. "What will Bric say? If I ask him that question on Wednesday?"

"He'll say the same thing. He gets you. With us."

"With us-meaning the three of you? So you're in love with them?"

"Who?" I laugh. "Bric and Smith? Fuck no."

"Then why, Quin? Why do you share together? It's so intimate. It's very fucking taboo. And it's got a lot of potential for misplaced emotions and hurt feelings. So why?"

"All those reasons, I guess. It's challenging. Stimulating in a way that you can't get through other means. I like them, don't get me wrong. I'm comfortable with them. I'm comfortable with what we do. It's erotic. And just plain fucking hot, you know? I wouldn't want to watch Bric and Smith fuck the same girl if I didn't like them. And I like the thrill of participating in the domination of one woman at the same time. I like the way we make her feel helpless and submissive. I like telling her to suck Bric's cock or sit on Smith's face. I like the way we fuck together. Is that so hard to understand?"

She exhales a long breath of air. "Yeah. It's hot. I admit that. It turns me on pretty hard. But as a woman, I just don't get why you want to do it over and over again, with the same girl, knowing the complications."

"So why are you here? And don't say Rochelle. That can't be it. No one just walks into an arrangement like this because a friend wants out and needs a replacement."

"If I tell you, will you keep it a secret? Or are you under some obligation to tell the others?"

"I'll probably tell them. Eventually. If they ask. They have a right to know."

She hesitates. Her secret is on the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back when she hears my answer.

"Let me ask you this," I say. "Do you want to lose this game?"

"I can't even answer that. What does winning mean?"

"Well, I'll tell you what losing means. It means we kick you out of this apartment, you go back home, and we never talk to you again."

"But if that's losing, then everyone who came before me... lost."

"We all lose when we have to start over."

"So you want this to be permanent?" She scrunches up her face. "No," she says, answering her own question. "You don't. You know everyone loses eventually. You just want to play the game while you can. You're addicted to the game."

I walk into the kitchen and refill my cup of coffee. "If we lose, Chella, do you think you'd find another trio of men to share?"

She says nothing while I add some sugar to my coffee, stir it, and then walk back out into the living room.

"Do you think Rochelle has found three new men?" I ask. I dread the answer, but I need to know. "That she just got tired of us and decided to start over?"

Chella shakes her head. "No, I don't think that, Quin. I think she loved you. And when we lose, because that's the only way for this to end, I won't either. I'll pretend it never happened."

I sit down on the couch next to her. She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"It's sad, huh? That we all know how it ends and yet we'll pretend it's working for as long as possible."

"Yeah," she agrees.

"You can get out now, you know. You can just walk out and stop playing. But you'll wonder for the rest of your life if maybe, just maybe, this was the one time that beats the odds. You'll wonder if Smith loved you, just like I wonder if Rochelle loved me."