“I have a proposition,” Jack said, a whiff of Maker’s Mark on his breath as he spoke over the din of the dive bar on a Saturday night. “Maybe tonight, if you see a cute guy, you could bring him back to my place.”
My voice rose, along with a sense of dread. “For a threesome?”
“No, for you — to sleep with,” he said. “I could watch. From the closet. He wouldn’t know I was there.”
I fought a swell of revulsion. Jack wanted me to sleep with other men? And he wanted to watch? It defied the laws of romance.