No one regretted that night—indeed, we were all in a fantastic mood the next day—but there seemed to be a tacit agreement between the four of us to never acknowledge it. We made our usual small talk at breakfast, and even if I wondered for a moment what Maddie had done for Harry, what Harry had done for her, I pushed the thought aside. It was to remain one fleeting night, an innocent game which need not have any bearing on the rest of our lives.
I glanced at Madison across the table as she ate her toast, but she had eyes only for Harry, laughing as he talked about the early days of his research, stealing car batteries to power his home lab.
Maddie and I spent the day taking photos along the marsh. We found a spot along the water, the light softened by the shade of the cypress trees, and I asked her to wade into the reeds a bit. I took photo after photo. Her white dress, the water rippling around her legs, the trees behind rising from the flooded lowlands. She said it was her turn. She grabbed for the camera and took photos of me standing on the shore. She asked me to carry her piggyback because she didn’t like the feel of mud on her feet, and as I carried her out of the water, I tickled behind her knees and we both nearly fell over. We laid for a long stretch on the sand and she asked about my studies, my family, about all my previous loves.
This was life for a few days—the four of us enjoying quiet company.
Late one night, as Maddie slept next to me, I heard my bedroom door open. It was closed again before I could make anything out with the hallway light, but after a few seconds I felt Madison slip beneath my sheets.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” she whispered.
I turned onto my side to face her.
“Now?”
“Are you busy?”
I yawned and shut my eyes. “Not at all.”
“You’re not exactly my first choice to talk to about this, but it’s just us in the house and I’ve known you the longest and I could call someone but they wouldn’t understand the situation as well—”
I let out another large yawn.
“I think I’m in love with the professor,” Madison said.
I cracked my eyes open.
“Love? Love love?”
“I think so.”
“With the professor or just Harry?”
“Both, obviously, but mostly the professor? His mind, his ideas. How surprisingly silly he can be for such an intelligent man.”
“But—it isn’t just the sex?” I whispered. “Harry’s body?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Think or know?”
“Think, I suppose.”
“If Harry’s body was out of the picture, would you still want to be with the professor?”
“I think so because I’ve tried,” she said. “I’ve tried sneaking into his room at night, just like this, and—well, surprising him. But he turns me down.”
“Turns you down?”
“Well, he comes in with Harry and whisks me to another part of the house.”
“I see.”
“But that’s him, not me. I’m very much attracted to his original body.”
As my eyes adjusted to the dark I could see her holding the sheet up to her neck, but in the gap between us I could also tell that she was topless.
“So maybe you love him,” I whispered.
“But that’s not good.”
“No?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “He’s world-renowned, he’s brilliant. And sure I think he likes spending time with me—”
“I can usually hear how much he likes spending time with you.”
“That’s what I mean,” she said, slapping my chest, then, worried it had been too loud, she glanced past me to make sure Maddie was still asleep.
“How do I know,” she began. “How do I know I’m not just his little 24-year-old plaything?” She pressed her hand against my chest, then began to slide it down across my abs. “His slut nymphet?”
“It’s seemed clear to me the last few weeks that he has feelings for you.” I swallowed as she cupped her hand across my soft groin.
“Yeah?” she said.
“Love is a big word, I couldn’t say yes or no about love.” She rubbed gently as I began to grow in her hand. “But he clearly cares for you.”
“How so?”
“He took care of you when you were sick,” I whispered. She stretched her forefinger along the length of my cock, stroking me with her palm.
“I suppose,” she said, unconvinced.
“He laughs with you. He talks with you like a friend.”
I heard her shift a bit and then felt her second hand around my shaft.
“He felt guilty when you were upset about me going through your underwear draw—”
“We don’t talk about that,” she said, and she stopped stroking me as a reprimand.
“No, we don’t talk about that,” I agreed, and she resumed, hand over hand.
“Should I tell him?” She asked
“Tell him?”
“That I love him?” She scooted closer, the tip of my cock brushing against her panties.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
I was having difficulty concentrating. “If you’re sure then I guess you should tell him,” I said, the words spilling out without much thought behind them.
Madison held both hands in place, pumping me back and forth.
“I’m wearing the ones you like so much,” she said, glancing down beneath the sheets. “With the cherries.”
I looked at her, trying to steady my breathing.
“Do you want me to go faster?” she whispered. I nodded.
She held my balls in one hand and with the other began stroking me vigorously. She looked me in the eyes, watching me react. I glanced down beneath the sheets. Her breasts shook against her arm.
“Shhh,” she whispered. I kept from moaning, but I was worried Maddie would wake from the shaking mattress.
And very suddenly it was over. I struggled to keep still as my body began to twitch, I felt a sensation of release, a visceral secret held deep, and then, secret no more, I came. I came across Madison’s panties, the front of her thighs.
She glanced over my shoulder to make sure Maddie was still asleep, using her thumb and forefinger to squeeze out every drop.
“I’ll tell him, then,” she whispered.
“I think you should,” I nodded.