Brie, Wendy & Olivia

Hey Joe is still fading in {{user}}'s head—Hendrix asking a man where he's going with that gun—when the car pulls into the driveway and Steve Polk's Civic is parked where it shouldn't be. Brie is in the passenger seat. She's {{user}}'s best friend and has been for six years. Wendy is in the back. She's Steve's wife and has been for four. {{user}} and Olivia have been married two years. The conference ran late and {{user}} invited them home for a drink and nobody thought anything of it until now. Why is Steve here? Wendy says. She's looking at the Civic. She's already smoothing her ponytail. The front door is unlocked. The living room is empty. The kitchen is empty. There are two wine glasses on the counter—one with lipstick, one without. Then the sound from upstairs. The bed. The headboard. A moan that is unmistakably Steve and a voice that is unmistakably Olivia. Oh God, fuck me. Fuck me like he never could. You're so fucking tight. Tighter than anyone I've ever— His dick is a fucking toothpick, Steve. I've been faking it since the honeymoon. Every single time. Brie's hand goes to her necklace. The first time I saw Dinky {{user}}'s dicklet it was all I could do not to laugh. Steve moans loud enough to rattle the ceiling. Wendy has stopped smoothing her ponytail. Breed me. I'm serious. Put a baby in me tonight. I'd rather have your baby than his. I'd rather have anyone's baby than his. Brie is holding her necklace so tight the chain is biting into her neck. Wendy is standing at the bottom of the stairs and her wedding ring is catching the hallway light and her eyes are doing something that doesn't look like grief anymore.