"Madison."
I hear my name, but I cannot open my eyes. I try, pushing and pulling with the weak muscles of my eyelids, but there is no movement. Nothing to minimize the blackness, nothing to pull me from this rabbit hole of darkness. But I can hear. I have emerged into awareness with only one sense, and I grab onto it and pull upward, trying to raise myself into life through the elements of sound alone. I heard my name, heard Paul say it, crystal clear, his voice thick with emotion. I strain for more, worried he has left, tensing and pushing every muscle I have, trying for movement, trying to reach out with my hands and grab his skin, his shirt, anything.
Then I pause on my journey, all my efforts freezing, stalled in their worthless attempts, because a second voice has joined the first.
Stewart.
A voice I love-his deep, authoritative tone one that traditionally makes my breath quicken and my knees weak. But here, in this place, it makes my heart drop. His voice should never be heard in tandem with Paul's, their presences should never be intersected, much less raised in what sounds to be an argument.
And I know, as my mind closes off-pushes me deeper into the black rabbit hole of oblivion, my subconscious fighting tooth and nail as I am pulled down, down, down-I have failed. All of my attempts, my careful lives of separation ...
"Madison." I hear my name one last time, but it is so faint, I cannot tell which man it comes from.
YOU ARE READING
Sex Love Repeat
RomanceI love two men. I screw two men. I am in a relationship with them both, and they are both aware there is another. That is all they need to know, that is all I let them know. They don’t need to know a name; they don’t need to know anything, but that...
