Chapter 9
Lucky
Emily’s car jolted to a stop in the driveway, her brakes squealing in protest at her enthusiastic driving style.
I clutched my bag against my chest, bracing myself against the dashboard with my other hand.
Three weeks into our carpool arrangement, and I still wasn’t used to the way she treated every stop sign like it was optional.
It was snowing again, and fat flakes melting against the glass as the wipers swept back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm.
“More snow! October is flying by. We need to get pumpkin spice lattes before they’re gone!” Emily loved her seasonal beverages.
“Sure,” I said, with the same neutral tone I’d been using to agree to Emily’s increasingly elaborate plans for our friendship. Somehow in the span of three weeks, we’d gone from carpooling to having standing lunch dates, weekend plans, and a morning coffee ritual.
And I was enjoying it.
“We could swing by the bike shop after work?” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Josh texted me and asked me to come by and see his fat tire bikes. They’re great in the snow! That man has incredible arms, too. Must be all of the tire changes. Takes some muscle to work a tire lever.”
I laughed despite myself. “You have a problem.”
“I have excellent taste in forearms,” she corrected, flicking her pink-streaked hair over her shoulder. “And if you’re going to be mountain biking with Dr. McHottie all the time, you might as well have a nice bike.”
“Wade is not—”
“If you try to tell me Wade Kowalski isn’t hot. That man is objectively beautiful.”
I reached for the door handle. “Fine. But we are not calling him Dr. McHottie.”
“Dr. Sexypants?”
I pushed the door open, grimacing as a rush of cold air slammed into me. “I’m getting out of this car now.”
She burst out laughing, undeterred. “Anyway, think about the bikes! And email me those supply chain metrics! I can’t believe you solved that bottleneck issue with the suppliers!”
“I’ll think about it.” I had solved the bottleneck issue, and it had felt fucking spectacular. Four weeks into my new job, and things were already going well. And I had a new best friend. I turned and waved to her. “Bye, Em.”
She beamed. A smile tugged at my lips as I turned back and walked towards the door, listening to the screech of Emily’s tires as she peeled out. She was a menace, but I didn’t hate that about her.
I was still smiling as I pushed open the front door, and stopped short when I saw Wade and Bode in the great room. They were on the couch, huddled together over Bode’s laptop, shoulders touching, heads bent close. It was intimate, and I should have been happy to see them becoming friends.
Instead, my stomach churned with something queasy that could not possibly be jealousy. Because that would be ridiculous.
My good mood evaporated like snowflakes on a hot surface.
They seemed so intimate. Connected. The afternoon light caught in Wade’s blonde hair, turning it golden, and Bode wasn’t wearing his hood up for once.
His dark hair was messy and soft, falling across his forehead as he leaned toward the screen, laughing at something Wade was saying.
“Hey,” I said.
They both turned, startled. Wade’s smile widened at the sight of me, but Bode’s reaction was more telling—he snapped the laptop shut so quickly I was surprised he didn’t catch Wade’s fingers in it.
They were keeping secrets, now? Wade jumped up, smiling big, as if I’d made his day simply with my presence.
“Lucky! How was work? You look great. Is that a new sweater? I like the color.”
The barrage of cheerfulness was so typically Wade that I almost laughed. Almost. “What are you guys working on?”
Bode cleared his throat, setting the laptop aside with deliberate casualness. “Nothing. Just looking at some videos.”
“Videos,” I repeated, setting my bag down and unwinding my scarf from my neck. “What kind of videos?”
“He wanted to show me his… snowboarding.” Wade’s eyes darted to Bode. Bode’s cheeks flushed. “Right, Bode?”
Bode pulled his hood back up.
I raised an eyebrow, wondering what they were up to.
“Why are you two being weird?”
“Isn’t weird Wade’s natural state?” Bode muttered.
Wade clapped his hands together. “Oh! That reminds me! Bode is not injured. I can officially put that rumor to bed.”
“He caught you trying to assess him, didn’t he?” I asked.
“Yeah, you may have been right about my lack of subtlety,” Wade said, chuckling.
Bode huffed. “You should have seen him fake drop the hot tub test kit.”
I looked at both of them, laughing together about whatever had happened the night before in the hot tub, and my fingers itched to draw a scene like that. My characters, wet and sexy, snuggled together in a steaming tub. “Right, well, see you guys later. I have to get some stuff done.”
“Lucky—” Wade started, but I was already halfway up the stairs, not looking back. I had some drawing to do.
I closed my bedroom door behind me with a bit more force than necessary, flopped onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Outside my window, the snow was falling more heavily now, blanketing the world in white silence.
I could hear the murmur of voices downstairs, and my mind went straight to a filthy thought, to the two of them planning another evening in the hot tub together, sitting close enough that their skin would brush, sending unexpected jolts of awareness between them.
Not that either of them would be into that. I couldn’t expect two straight guys who were clearly just friends to be into my filthy fantasies. In fact, I was pretty sure that my fantasies about them crossed all kinds of boundaries.
I reached for my tablet, pulling it out of my bag and swiping it open.
I was craving the validation I got from reading subscriber comments, so I headed straight for my Patreon.
There was a sense of relief in knowing there were people out there who craved the same things I did.
Even if I never found the courage to share these things with the men I dated, it settled my anxiety to know there were men out there who shared my fantasies.
Of course, that was also why my dry spell had lasted so long. Why deal with the expectations of real men when I could have my stories?
I tapped open my Patreon notifications, scrolling through the usual comments and messages, and smiling at the positive ones. There were a few new subscribers, some feedback on my latest comic, a couple of commission requests that I’d need to review later.
One of the new subscribers had sent me a message that kicked my heart rate into overdrive.
Aimee: Hey girl! I can’t believe this is my first time seeing your comics.
They are fabulous. Aimee: Anyway, I’m writing because I run a sex podcast, the Aimee Position, and I’d love to have you on as a guest. No pressure, but it’d be so cool to talk.
Your comics just make me feel seen in my relationship in the most perfect way. My boyfriends love them, too.
Attached was a photo of a blonde woman with two big, burly men, each one kissing her on the cheek. I bit my bottom lip and summoned my cheeky DeviDraws personality.
DeviDraws: Lucky girl. Your boyfriends are so sexy. I hope they’re good boys.
My cheeks went hot the way they did every time I spoke as DeviDraws. My subscribers would be shocked to know that I still struggled to show this side of myself to the outside world, even when reacting as my pseudonym. Aimee’s reply was instant.
Aimee: They are. They’re the sweetest guys I know. Navigating a three-person relationship isn’t always the easiest, but it’s worth it!
Aimee: And I’m serious about interviewing you. Seeing unconventional relationships portrayed with such care, passion, and heart just makes me smile. This last one especially. It feels almost personal.
If only she knew. I pulled up another tab and googled Aimee’s podcast, and… holy shit. I was expecting a hobby podcaster, but this woman had a substantial following, and was clearly a pro. It looked like she’d been doing this full time for years.
DeviDraws: Shit, I just Googled you.
Aimee: I hope the search engine only had good things to say.
DeviDraws: I’m afraid I’m way too small for a podcast of your size. I have like twenty followers.
Aimee: Just because you haven’t been discovered yet doesn’t mean you don’t deserve the attention. Have a listen to my podcast and see if you think it’s a good fit. And we can figure out a way to hide your identity if that’s a concern.
DeviDraws: Okay. I’ll think about it! And thanks for subscribing.
Aimee: Troy and Rhett made me. They need to know what happens with your domme character Lara and her two sexy guys. Based on anyone you know?
DeviDraws: Perhaps.
Aimee: Now I want the interview even more!
DeviDraws: No! It would be so embarrassing if they found out.
Aimee: Why? They might be into it! You never know.
DeviDraws: And if they’re not? Usually my characters are completely fictional, so I didn’t even notice right away that I was drawing two very real men who I have to see every day.
Aimee: Hmm. I suspect this is going to be juicy. All the more reason to have you on my podcast!
Aimee: Anyway, gotta run! Let me know about the interview! I have an unexpected opening next week, so I’d love to pencil you in.
I scrolled through the rest of my notifications, mostly comments from my subscribers, pausing when I saw a direct message from my newest subscriber.
This guy had joined at the highest tier and had been leaving increasingly generous tips.
A warning nagged at me, like my spidey senses tingling, but I ignored it and clicked the message.