The Billionaire Throuple

Samuel the Third [Sex scene: fetish]

My heart aches terribly. It's impossible to catch my breath. The cold nighttime air tortures my lungs with every breath. My body is clumsy and lethargic, weighed down by intense grief. My love Andreas has fainted again. Two of my men are with him, but he remains unconscious and the ambulance has yet to arrive. I don't have any more details than that.

I turn away from the stairs and run over to the ledge instead. I peek out along the building until I come upon the fire escape. I'm not thrilled about heights, but there is nothing I won't do to care for Andreas. I'll get down there or die trying. There is no in between.

I crawl over the top of the ledge and find my footing on the ladder that leads down to the crossed stairs. This is the worst part. I've already seen how far the drop is. There is no blocking it out now. I might as well get it over with. I start a five count of deep breaths, but I climb down on the fourth, as if I'm tricking myself into not being scared.

I'm carefully lowering myself down each rung when I hear sirens. It must be the ambulance. I climb faster, too fast. My foot slips, as does the hand holding myself up. I wasn't gripping the rung tight enough to support my weight. My other foot catches on a rung and I fall flat on my back, down onto the crossed stairs. I wince in pain as I roll onto my stomach.

The fall wasn't more than a few feet. In hindsight, I'd have been best served jumping from the ledge. That's easier said from down here. I power to my feet and take the stairs as fast as I can manage. I trip a few times, but I remain upright with the aid of the railing.

The wail of the sirens is much louder now.

I cannot let them leave without me, but I cannot tell them to wait either. Every second is precious. I'd never forgive myself if Andreas never wakes. I run along the alleyway to the front of the building, stepping over trash bags and shoving bins out of my way.

There are a group of men crowding the alleyway leading out front where I hear sirens, where Andreas's lifeless body is in need of resuscitation. They turn toward me, likely from all the raucous I've caused sprinting through.

I shout, "Make way!" They poise themselves to impede my path. "Please! I must reach the ambulance!" I slow to a stop, desperately gasping for air. "Please!"

One of the men laughs and grabs my shoulder, shoving me forward, past their huddle. I start running again without turning back.

I spot Andreas being carried away on a gurney from the bar front. One of my men and Philippe are a few paces behind. I rush over to the ambulance, beating them there.

An EMT shouts, "Step back!" He turns to a third EMT. "Gus, get him away from the van."

I put my hands up in submission. "No, that is, he is mine. His name is Andreas. I have all of his medical information." A lie, but I undoubtedly know more than Philippe. "He's anemic and he has certain allergies. You'll want me to come along."

The man nods his head, allowing me to pass. 

Philippe tries to climb aboard, but is stopped. The EMT says, "Only one can ride along. We're going to Dignity Health. It's a ten minute drive." He closes us inside the ambulance.

I look down at Andreas as an EMT cuts off his shirt while the other readies defibrillators. I am  distraught by what I see. He's so pale and still, doll-like. His normally lush, honey brown hair is matted with sweat and tousled all over. His soft featured face with its smooth blemish free skin is so puffy. His lips are swollen and bluish with a trail of vomit leading down to his chin.

I should've never let him out of my sight and if he wakes—when he wakes—I'll not ever again. Drinking was a mistake. I know that now. I was blinded by the smile I hadn't seen in weeks. I wanted so badly to hold onto it as long as he could bear it. I neglected taking care of him.