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I told myself I was just being smart. I liked to assess situations. Weigh up potential outcomes beforehand so I could set myself on the right course. And I wasn’t ready to stop spending time and having sex with Dan yet, so it wasn’t prudent to do anything that could negatively impact that.

If I did something ridiculous like start to have deep feelings for him? Sure, I’d reassess. But right now, this was working out fine. It was fine. Great, even. I was pretty sure I’d never had this much sex in my life, and I was getting to try lots of new things.

Like sucking dick, which I really, really liked. The other night, I’d blown Dan on the couch, and midway through he’d removed his head so we could take turns sucking his dick. Watching him do it, feeling his tongue slide against mine as we both licked him, when he caught my mouth in a filthy kiss over the tip of his cock… it had almost made me come untouched. Then he’d told me to put his head on the floor underneath me so I could ride his face while I sucked him off. I’d ended up a trembling mess, whimpering around his cock as I ground my hole against his tongue.

Last night, he’d sucked my dick at a torturously slow pace while fucking me with his finger. I’d seen stars when he finally sped up and made me come, stroking my prostate firmly and making my orgasm last so long it took me several minutes to recover. I may have, during the act, whimpered something about wanting him to fuck me, which had made Dan moan gutturally around my cock and suck me harder.

By the time Monday rolled around again, we’d ended up seeing each other every single night of the last week. We’d also made plans for him to come over again tonight after my friends left, seeing as I was hosting game night this week.

I was in a great mood, so when I went into the kitchenette that afternoon to make myself a coffee—I knew I’d be up late with Dan again—and saw Taylor in there, I gave him an unusually big grin.

“Hey, Taylor.”

He blinked in surprise, then beamed back. I was never rude to Taylor—not after my first day, at least—but I wasn’t one to start conversations. Definitely not enthusiastically, either.

“Hey, Rafe,” he said as I stood next to him at the counter and grabbed the coffee pot. “How’s it going?”

I shrugged. “All good. How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” he said cheerfully, then hesitated. “Well, Holt is getting a little stressed about the”—he glanced behind us and lowered his voice—“F and B situation.”

I frowned. “What about it?”

“Fans are already asking why they weren’t in this weekend’s shows. And why all their posters are gone.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “Obviously they couldn’t keep working here, but fans don’t know what goes on backstage and Holt wants to keep it that way. So he’s trying to think of a storyline to effectively ‘write them out.’”

I made a face. “Why doesn’t he just—”

“Babe.” Holt’s voice made me jump and look back over my shoulder to see him standing in the doorway, clutching the doorframe like he’d just run a marathon to get here. “Hi, Rafe. Babe, what about”—he spread his hands with a hopeful expression—“aliens.”

I eyed him oddly as Taylor gave him a slightly nervous smile.

“Um… aliens, honey?”

“They were abducted.” There was an unsettling gleam in Holt’s eye as he nodded insistently. “They were aliens this whole time. On the run from their home planet or something. Hiding out as professional wrestlers. The aliens found them and took them back.”

Taylor and I stared at him in silence.

“Um, great… great idea, hon,” Taylor eventually said. Even I could tell he didn’t mean it. “But… I’m not sure the fans will believe… It’s not all that in-keeping with the storylines we have at Goliaths.”

“But I can’t think of anything better,” Holt whined, scrubbing his face. “Hogbody’s shot down everything else. Eaten by mutant sewer rats under the building—no. Corey punched them out of existence—no. Their dicks got tangled together while tandem skydiving—no.”

“Why don’t you just say they got fired?” I asked bluntly.

Holt stared at me like I’d just suggested he start each show by prancing around naked in the ring and windmilling his dick for the camera.

“Because there’s no drama in that!” He flung up his hands again. “Where’s the flair? Where’s the intrigue?”

“Is being eaten by mutant sewer rats all that intriguing?” I asked doubtfully. “It’s pretty cut and dry.”

Holt snorted and crossed his arms. “What a ridiculous question.”

“We’ll think of something, hon.” Taylor gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his arm.

He huffed. “I still think the rats is the best one. We could… I don’t know, carve out some tunnels under the building. Hire some actors to dress in big rat costumes. Offer exclusive tours to people wanting to catch a glimpse of the mutant rats.”

Taylor looked a little worried, because Holt was sounding more and more into the idea as he went on. “Um, sweetie, I don’t know if—”

“You know…” I shrugged lightly, pouring creamer into my coffee. “If you go down that route, it’s kind of like you’re trying to capitalise off their deaths.”