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I swallowed hard as nausea clutched my throat.
The thought of being inside her. The thought of feeling another woman’s heat around me.
Jesus.
Every inch of me recoiled. I shrivelled inside.
The room swam; white noise hissed in my ears.
Stand up.
Tell him no.
Grab Ily and leave.
Do it!
Before it’s too late.
Shifting on the couch, I went to stand, but my heart didn’t beat right.
I groaned as I collapsed backward, weighted down in every possible way.
The blackness inside me—the thick, impenetrable depression—buried me alive, handcuffing me, gagging me, throwing a hood over my head, and blinding me.
Forcing my eyelids up, I fought against the current and blinked back the dreadful despair.
Victor pushed Ily onto all fours.
He pulled down her G-string.
No…
My heart cracked as Victor landed on his knees behind her and smiled in my direction.
Do something!
Shimmying out of his pyjama bottoms, he said something I couldn’t catch. Words warbled and echoed like pecking crows at my broken brain.
I felt drugged.
Woozy.
His voice came again down a long, thin tunnel.
Fractals of black and white scrambled my eyesight.
Time skipped.
My breathing quickened.
My lower belly grew hotter. The clock on the wall ticked louder. My trousers grew tighter.
“—aren’t you?” Victor’s voice cut through my daze.
What did he say?
I blinked and lurched forward. The room turned upside down.
