“So you say,” I grumble at him. “What about Ben?”

“They’re not due back for a couple more days,” he says. “I talked to Stacey while you were in the shower. She’s says Ben’s having fun, and he told me about how Goofy gave him a hug and how he went on a train. We should get back a day or so after them. It won’t mess with Ben’s schedule.”

There’re a least a billion more questions I need to ask, and I open my mouth to do just that (Did you tell her anything else? and Was last night just a dream? and When did you decide you wanted me? and Can you kiss me again? Just once more), but Kori and Sandy come out the front door and I swallow my questions back down. Hopefully, there will be time. Later.

Kori pulls me away from Dom and around the side of Sandy’s house. “Spill,” she says.

“I have no idea what you mean,” I say, looking everywhere but at her.

“You little liar. Did he suck your cock?”

My eyes bulge. “What? Of course not! He just kissed me!” Oh shit. I meant to keep that to myself for now.

“Aha!” she cries. “I knew something had happened! You were all brain-dead last night and now you and Dominic keep giving each other fuck-stares.”

“What’s a fuck-stare?”

“It’s that thing you do when you look at someone and wonder what they look like without their clothes on,” she explains.

“You kids today and your slang,” I say, shaking my head. “How crass.”

She rolls her eyes. “Uh-huh. Because that so matters.”

“He was fuck-staring me?” I ask, feeling strangely giddy at the thought.

“Total fuck-stare. I thought for sure you had at least rubbed one out with him. Just a kiss? How depressing.”

“It was a little bit more than depressing,” I reassure her.

She grins triumphantly. “I so called this.”

“You did not!” She totally did.

“I did too! I said to Sandy, ‘Put them in a room with condoms and lube and big dildos, and I guarantee by the end of the trip, they’ll be balling each other.’”

“That was you?” I say with a scowl.

“Well, yeah. Sandy doesn’t really have a bowl full of condoms and, like, sixty different kinds of lube sitting out normally.”

“The sex dungeon was staged?” I don’t know why I’m so outraged.

“Completely,” Kori says. “Sandy would never do that. A classy queen, that one is.”

“Oh, yeah. Nothing says classy like a two-foot rubber penis.”

“That’s not hers,” she says. “That’s Paul’s. All of them were.”

“You’re fucking with me.” Paul? Paul Auster has a dildo collection? Bullshit.

She shakes her head. “Apparently he has a box of them under his bed. Who knew, right? At least we know they work.”

“We didn’t use them!” Of course, I won’t ever be able to get the image of using them out of my head for the rest of my life. You know. Because I actually needed more psychological scarring and all.