Sundown turned the lake black and the windows into mirrors.
I saw myself in the glass before I saw him stand up — robe open, plug seated, n*****s tight from sitting on the floor like a kept thing while he took three calls in a voice that never cracked. On the last call he snapped his fingers. I opened the robe wider. He pointed at the rug in front of the fire without ending the sentence he was in.
I presented.
Knees wide. Chest down. Ass up. The plug made a blunt shape between my cheeks that the firelight found and held.
He finished the call. The phone hit the table.
“Night three,” he said. “Ass. All of it. You asked for saving. This is what saving feels like when it comes from me.”
He crouched, gripped the base of the plug, and pulled it out in one slow drag that left me clenching a
