The Billionaire Throuple

Samuel the Third [sex scene]

Nehemiah lifts me by the back of my collar and tosses me out into the hall. I use my hands to stop the momentum of his shove, pressing myself off filthy dingy walls. I try not to think about all the layers of dead cells that have accumulated over years from its past inhabitants trolling the halls, given its lack of thorough cleansing.

Too late. I'm too horrified to look at my own hands. I hear Andreas enter the hall behind me. I turn and he's dragging his hand along the wall like he doesn't know any better. He is using a finger to scrape off a rubber stain. The door slams, distracting me from his current offense.

I say, "I think he's left us. I've done something awful, haven't I?"

"I don't know, but she likes me, mostly." He shrugs and raises his eyebrows. "My favorite part was when you told her to shut the fuck up in your language."

I gasp, pressing my hands to my cheeks. "I did, didn't I?"

He nods. I am immediately mortified more by where my hands have been than what I did or didn't say to Nehemiah's mother. I can feel every bit of grime on my face that I've inadvertently transferred to it, from my hands. I am unnerved.

"Do you think we should leave?" I don't wait for an answer. "We should go. He's clearly angry. I love him but, let's let him be angry."

I message the driver to meet us. I start walking the hall, but Andreas grabs my—his hips to stop me, so I stop.

The door opens and Nehemiah appears with our coats. I hesitate before grabbing mine, taking a moment to decide whether it is worth sullying with my hands. I'd done impeccably at avoiding contact with any surfaces on my way up to his suite. I can always buy a new one.

I put it on and follow Andreas's lead through the hall. Its carpet is so discolored from stains that it nearly looks like an abstract design, a dreadful one by an artist whose mediums consists of E. Coli and Salmonella.

I tiptoe through the hall, carefully watching for vermin. This place is undoubtedly an environment in which they may thrive as well or better than in their natural habitat.

Andreas flings open the door to the staircase and I'm fortunate that it remained open long enough for me to slip through.

Nehemiah wasn't. He opens the door. "You didn't have to hold it, but," he says, grinning, "couldn't you have stuck a foot out or some?"

"A foot out?" I look down at my red, Italian leather shoes, appalled by the suggestion.

Shoes are things I couldn't borrow from Andreas. My feet are two full sizes larger than his. Besides, I couldn't risk the door touching my skin. Since I'm a bit taller than Andreas, my ankles show slightly in the jeans he's lent me.

No, Nehemiah's immune system is much better equipped for these dealings. He gestures for me to start down the steps, but when I turn, he scoops me up in his arms.

I sigh with relief and wrap my arms around the back of his neck to keep hold of him. "I really did enjoy your mother's roast. I've made mental note of her ritual for preparing it."

Nehemiah laughs. "You gonna cook it, huh?"

I shake my head. "I never said that, but I'll have it prepared for us." I kiss his neck. "I want you to feel at home whenever you're with me."

He stays silent, for a flight of steps, until he catches up with Andreas to address us both. "Sorry 'bout Ma. She's gonna wise up, but I wanna thank y'all again for showing up. Even though it didn't go one-hundred percent, y'all pulled through for me. I ain't gonna forget it."

Andreas punches him on the shoulder. "It went a lot better than I was expecting."

"Hopefully, we'll come again soon." I shake my fists in excitement.