I wrapped my arm around my unseen lover standing next to me and gripped his ass for purchase.
I came—I don’t know how many times. I’d lost count. As my body tired and so did my lovers, our stroking hands and bucking hips slowed and softened as did the chimes of the donation notifications emanating from the laptop across the room.
I lay on my side. My head rested on the shoulder of a gentle lover, whose identity I could have only guessed. Beside me lay another lover, cradling my hips against his chest which I could feel rise and fall in rhythm with his breaths that fell on my back.
I guided the tips of my fingers playfully up and down the leg of the man lying on the other side of me. I ran my fingers through the hairs of his leg then up to his groin where I petted his spent penis.
I heard someone leave the bed and walk across the room then the sound of fingers tapping on the keyboard.
“And the live stream has officially ended,” Dalton said.
No one spoke. We all lay as we were lightly petting and caressing, slowly regaining our breath. I could have taken off my blindfold, but I was enjoying the sightless, purely tactile experience, so I left it on.
I heard the window open and felt a draught of cool air. Then I heard the flick of a lighter and caught a whiff of tobacco. Dalton must be having a smoke by the window.
After a long moment, Cameron said, “How much did we make?”
I didn’t want Dalton to answer. I didn’t want to know. I suspected—given the frequency of the notification chimes and given how long we’d been streaming—that we’d made quite a lot.
Of course, I hoped we’d earned a lot of money for our noble cause. But I also hoped that we hadn’t raised quite enough. After all, we still had one more night. It would have been a shame if we’d lost our pretense for another live stream.
19
Greta
The sun was coming up when we returned to the lodge. I went back to my room hoping I could sneak in and hit the shower before Hans woke up.
No such luck.
Hans was sitting on the side of the bed, his head resting in the vice of his hands. He looked up at me as I entered and didn’t say a word.
“Good morning,” I offered sheepishly. “You’re up early?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Is it early?”
I didn’t answer but slipped into the bathroom for a shower. I had a hard time standing. My legs were so tired, but I made sure to take an extra long shower hoping that would give Hans and Kurt the time to leave, go down to the dining room for breakfast.
No such luck.
Dried and dressed, I exited the bathroom to find Kurt gone but Hans still sitting on his bed.
“Do you want to tell me what you were up to all night?” he asked me.
I plopped down on my bed. “Where would I begin?”
“How about with Jake.” He uttered the name Jake with disdain and winced as if the name had left a bad taste in his mouth when he said it.
“Jake’s in trouble,” I said. “And I, with his friends, am helping him.”
“And the work we’re here to do?”
As I lay on the bed, I could still feel phantom hands stroking me, kneading my shoulders, my head, my legs, my ass. I could still feel the phantom thrusts and the pelvises smacking against my backside. I wanted nothing more than to lay there in silence and remember each touch and each kiss in silence, but Hans carried on.
“I thought we were here to try and save the agency, but you’re out all night trying to help this… this guy you’ve just met. And how exactly are you helping him? And who is he anyway?”
“Hans, I need some sleep.”
He sighed loudly and stood from the bed. “We’re meeting in the dining room in ten minutes.”
“I’ll skip breakfast today.”
“I’ll bet.” He stomped across the room and into the bathroom.
I fell asleep, only for a minute, but it was disorienting. When I woke, my body was so sore I could only move my head enough to look up and see Hans buttoning up his shirt. “Hans,” I mumbled.
“Greta, get some sleep,” he said softly. “We’ll do the patio shots this morning. I can do those without you, I think. In the afternoon”—he exhaled and rubbed his chin. “I don’t know, I’ll figure something out.” He walked across the room to the door.
“Hans,” I mumbled.
He opened the door but stopped at the threshold and turned to me.
“Thanks,” I said.
He didn’t reply but walked out, closing the door behind him.
When I woke again, it seemed as if no time had passed. I turned onto my side, thinking I would snuggle my head against the chiseled chest of one of my lovers, but the space beside me was bare. I reached out my hand, expecting it to fall onto a leg, a firm bicep, or a sturdy shoulder, but there was no one there. I jolted up in a panic.