Page 51 of Seneca

After a minute, Catherine slid off, limp, and curled up next to me on the couch. Jenna moved to my lap, straddling the sticky mess, and ground herself against what was left of my erection. I watched as she fingered herself, her eyes never leaving mine, until she shuddered and came, breath hot on my face.

For a while, we just lay there, tangled and spent. The cabin lights flickered, the hum of the engines rising as the jet powered up. I heard the door close and lock, the click echoing through the cabin.

Catherine reached for the champagne, poured three glasses, and handed them out.

“To freedom,” she said.

Jenna raised her glass. “To new traditions.”

I looked at them, at the women who had ruined and saved me in equal measure, and I didn’t have to fake the smile that broke out.

“To us,” I said.

We drank, and the jet lifted off, the world falling away beneath us.