Elise: These panties?

Gabe: Fuck.

Banks: FUCK.

Tobias: Yes. Those ones. I can feel them in my hands right now.

Elise: Too bad I don’t like you yet.

Tobias: Strongly considering ditching that requirement.

Banks: Strongly considering showing up outside your door.

Tobias: Curious about the silk boxers, mate?

Banks: I’m talking to Elise, bonehead.

Elise: Where did Gabe go?

Banks: You don’t know your own power, Elise.

Elise: Meaning?

Tobias: Meaning, old Gabe is likely having a wank to your dirty little picture.

Gabe: I’m back.

Tobias: Good God, man! Google the word “stamina.”

Elise: We’ll work on it together, Gabe.

I type those words so easily and the chat goes quiet. Sure, I can’t see their faces, but intuition tells me we’re all savoring my acknowledgment that if there is work to be done between us, I’m willing to participate. That we’re not only official, I might even be willing to change and grow with them. When I returned home from my work debacle, I felt like bait dangling from the end of a fishing hook. Chatting with Tobias, Gabe and Banks makes me feel protected. Supported. Surrounded by three very different forcefields.

Banks: What are you and I going to work on, Elise?

My breath accelerates and I lay down on my belly, letting the comforter rasp my sensitive nipples, my thighs flexing, toes extended. It takes me a moment to locate an answer, because honestly, there isn’t much for Banks to improve on. Except maybe…

Elise: Maybe you could be gentle sometimes. Emphasis on sometimes.

Banks: I can do that. For you.

Tobias: And me, love?

Elise: We’re going to work on the Quiet Game. It’s an American custom.

Tobias: Sounds hot.

Elise: Oh, you have no idea.

Tobias: Would you like to see what you’ve done to me?

Dick pics are the scourge of womankind. But only if they’re unsolicited, right?

Elise: Yes.

A moment later, a picture arrives in the chat from Tobias. He is actually wearing silk boxers. Dove gray. City lights glow in the background. And in the foreground?

“Mother Mary.”

A bead of sweat literally rolls down the slope of my back.

Elise: I don’t think that’s tumbling anywhere.

Tobias: Fair point. Too fucking stiff to tumble, isn’t it?

Banks: Are you done?

Tobias: Don’t I bloody wish.

Gabe: Elise, do you feel better? I need you to feel better.

Elise: I do.

Elise: Thanks, Fam.

Tobias: I’m printing this out and framing it!

Banks: Elise = traitor.

Tobias: There you have it. The power of a dick pic. From me, obviously.

Gabe: If you need me to walk you into work tomorrow, you call me.

Gabe: I don’t need stamina for that. 😣

I’m actually giggling into my pillow, afraid to wake up Shayna on the other side of the apartment. I don’t know how to tell Gabe I’m not going into work tomorrow or if I’ll even have a job going forward. This is enough. It’s enough that they’ve reassured me just by being themselves. We all sign off with various goodnights. I tell Tobias I’ll see him at the rugby game tomorrow and wish Banks good luck.