My stomach drops.
On one screen, I see a live feed of the gym. All empty.
But then Em taps a few buttons, and then…
Fuck.
Now, the screen shows the gymlast night. Empty except for two horny idiots on the workout bench.
Stan, straddling me. Me, making out with him.
There’s absolutely no way to misinterpret it.
Stan lets out a sharp gasp, then laughs so loud it bounces off the walls. “Holy shit. Look at us! We’restunning.”
My eyes go wide. I can feel my face heating up again. “You record everything?”
“Most,” Em says.
Idris coughs into his mug. “You can turn it off now, Em.”
She clicks the feed away, but the damage has been dealt. The image is burned into my brain. Into Stan’s too, judging by how happy he looks.
“Can I get a copy?” he asks, way too eager.
“Stan,” Idris murmurs.
He ignores him. “I’m serious. Email it to me. My address is Sterling sucks at yahoo dot com.”
Idris raises a brow. “Yahoo?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why would you tell her that?”
“So doc can send me the video,” Stan says. “Obviously.”
Em considers it like this is a normal decision. “I can provide a copy for your personal archive,” she says. “Provided you don’t distribute it to other participants or upload it to public networks.”
“Oh my god, Em.” Stan clutches his chest. “You think I’d shareartthatintimate? Never. It’s just for me, you, and my spank bank.”
Em nods, turning back to her tablet. “I’ll send the file.”
Stan pretends to wipe a tear. “You’re both doing holy work, docs.”
Idris sighs but holds his smile. “We’re at your service, Stan.”
“So am I.” Stan stands up, chest puffed out. “Providing my service and dedicated contribution to sex-based medicine.”
Em doesn’t even look up. “That’s not a field.”
“Sexual healing is. There’s a whole song about it, doc.”
My jaw works. “Stop talking, Stan.”
He leans closer to Em, whispering loud enough for everybody to hear, “If the footage has audio, please delete anything that sounds like me begging. Unless I sounded hot. Then keep it.”
Idris’ brows raise, looking over at me. “Nil,” he says, gentle in a way that makes my spine lock, “for what it’s worth, you’re handling this very well.”
“Handling what?” I mumble, frowning.
