He started looking around as if he weren't sure either. Not dating, just fuck-buddies, is that it? You're living with two men now, I don't think there's room for me in your life. And with that he couldn't help himself. He shook his head.
He was still fighting to keep the rhythm even and pretty, but he was beginning to lose that smooth glide, and I knew when he stopped dancing above me, that that would be it. The white couch seemed to give off its own glow, though I knew that was illusion, made up of the reflective quality of the white, white cloth. Oh, God, he whispered. His voice was low and soft, like fur sliding across my skull.
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