A sleek white 2015-or-newer Dodge Charger with a decal on the side declaring it to be operated by ‘Santa Virginia City HIRT’ grumbled up beside me. A woman (5′6″, with brown hair even curlier than mine, in a no-nonsense navy pantsuit with a white shirt) and another (5′9″, with a bleached pixie cut, in a matching outfit, albeit with a more androgynous fit) emerged from the sedan with purpose and assessed me with authority. The shorter woman yelled over the noise of the equipment, “Would you happen to be SVPD?”
“Yes, actually,” I replied as I flashed my badge. “How did you know?”
“The Kojak on the roof of your car.”
“Oh. Right. What agency are you from?”
“Hazardous Incident Response Team, Department of Environmental Health—or ‘HIRT’ for short. We’ve had several reports that a building was being demolished without the requisite Legacy Structure Hazardous Substances Environmental Impact Assessment.”
“I’ve got a blood pool in that hotel and these hardhats are trying to bury it without a proper funeral. I’ve exhausted my options in delaying the demo; can you do anything to stop them?”
“Watch us.” They strolled over to that bastard foreman and showed him their badges and a piece of paper. He shook his head and spoke into his radio—and a moment later every piece of machinery fell silent once more. I relaxed. I had been beaten into despair, but the crisis had been averted. My hopes for this case and the hotel slowly rekindled.
“Hot damn,” remarked Shosh. “If I wasn’t straight, I’d kiss botha them.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprised agreement that [Yeah, the women are attractive, and since when did you look at women that way?]
She felt the need to add, “You already have a girlfriend, lover girl, is one not enough?”
“I didn’t say anything about kissing a couple of women, thus revealing possible hidden lesbian tendencies.”
“I said, ‘If I wasn’t straight,’ which was me explicitly maintaining my heterosexuality, the opposite of ‘hidden lesbian tendencies’. You, on the other hand… Well… gays are known to… um… have a habit of playing a little fast and loose with the definition of ‘commitment’, so… I’m wondering if you would, uh… ‘shop around’… to see if you’re ‘getting the best deal on the market’, maybe starting with these ladies—assuming either of them is gay.”
I huffed irritatedly. “Why would you want me to do that?”
“Well… um… I’m not comfortable with you betraying the people you keep close to you—but… smoking weed and dealing it are two different things. Her job security is questionable—which I say because I’m concerned that… your new friend’s freedom is… not guaranteed in the long run. These two, on the other hand, have government jobs. That’s about as much security as you can ask for.”
“Alright. Okay. I sympathize, Judy’s career used to make me nervous, too. For about 2 seconds. As for your wondering about me ‘playing a little fast and loose with the definition of “commitment”’… I don’t think that’s my style. If I weren’t already in a dedicated relationship, maybe then I would ask one of them out—after getting to know her better. I’m not so horny that I feel compelled to cheat on Judy or screw every woman I meet as soon as we have each other’s business cards. I need to spend some time getting to know my partner before I’m ready to get intimate.”
“But… the foreman…”
“For the second time, I really would appreciate it if you never mentioned him again. Got that?”
“Alright, alright. But how long was it before you and Judy… Actually, I don’t wanna know that.”
“Of course you wanna know, Mother! We had glorious sex after 4 whole hours of getting to know each other through a video game.” She winced. “While we’re prying into my sex life, how about you tell me about you and Mister Mystery? How long did you and Dad chat before fucking?”
“I said I didn’t wanna know about you and her, and you don’t wanna know about me and him, either.”
“Fine. You just need to keep in mind that Judy and I needed a few days and a few serious conversations before we told each other ‘I love you’, and I’m not going to risk compromising what we’ve built so far, because that foundation runs deeper than you’d think. We’re soulmates. Have a little more faith in me.”
She blinked several times. “‘Soulmates’… Um. Okay—I, uh… I’m… sorry for asking the wrong questions, Esti, but I’m just not used to you being in a relationship, and I don’t know what goes on between you two unless you tell me because I want you to have your privacy. I didn’t know how committed you are or how serious your first time with somebody has been.”
“How committed were you and Mister Right?”
She winced. “I don’t, have never, and never will regret what happened between him and me, because it gave me you, and if I had to relive that moment I would do everything exactly the same. But I wish I could’ve raised you with a man at my side.”
“You really wish I’d had a father?”
“Yes. I wanted to raise you with the love of my life. Not a single man I dated came close to meeting my standards for a father.”
“You dated? When?”
“You remember Oliver and Fred and Charles and Victor and Dennis and Jorge and Dennis Two and James?”
“Your special buddies.”
“I was dating them.”
“They were your boyfriends?”
She nodded.
{“Esti, this is Oliver. He’s my special buddy.”
{I quickly take in the new guy’s face… “Oh.” …then turn my eyes back to Prescription: Murder as Doctor Flemming dumps the ‘stolen’ goods overboard into either Bahía de Santa Lucía or the Pacific Ocean. “Hello,” I add absentmindedly.
{“Oliver, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Andrea.”
{“Nice to meet you, Andrea.”
{I glance at him to tell him, “Nice to meet you,” then return my attention to the boob tube.
{“Esti.” I pause the Columbo episode again and give her my attention. “Oliver likes cop shows, too. You might like to have a chat.”
{“Oh. What’s your favorite show?”
{He smiles as he too proudly admits, “The X-Files.”
{I couldn’t help but stare.
{“Is there something wrong with X-Files?”
{“If you’re into supernatural baloney,” I scoffed, “more power to you.”
{“It’s fun. It has mysteries.”
{“Mysteries with less believability than a Scooby Doo caper.”
{“I think they have ‘believability’, as long as you’re willing to ‘suspend your belief’.”
{“I can’t ‘suspend my disbelief’ in the supernatural. I can’t stand that ghosts-and-ghoulies ‘mystery’ crap. Ghosts don’t exist, and Scooby Doo knows that, which is the responsible position to take considering it’s a children’s show where fear of superstition is mocked as silly and self-defeating while skepticism is rational and rewarded with Truth and Justice—it isn’t an example of blind credulity towards the supernatural to be misinterpreted and perverted by adult television. X-Files is making adults dumber.”
{“Oh. Well. You’re entitled to your opinion. What’s your favorite show?”
{“Columbo,” I inform him in a tone that makes it clear that he should know that the show was one of a few elite works of art worthy of my attention.
{“Columbo! What a classic.”
{“Have you actually watched it?”
{“It was like sugary breakfast cereal, I ate up practically every episode.”
{“Which one’s your favorite?”
{“I don’t remember.”
{“Hm. Mine’s A Friend in Deed. Do you remember that one?”
{“Unfortunately, no.”
{“Columbo figures out how a corrupt police commissioner—his boss, no less—is trying to frame an innocent thief for the murder of both his friend’s wife and his own. It’s very satisfying to watch a powerful and corrupt man being taken down with hard evidence and cunning, especially by a subordinate who stands to lose his job if he presses on. Do you remember now?”
{“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
{“Can you remember any of them?”
{“Little bits.”
{Having lost all interest in this man, I unpause the VHS tape.}
I remembered the first time she brought a ‘special buddy’ home to meet me; the others weren’t substantially different from him. “Esti… I wanted you to have another parent who loved you as much as I do, and I wanted him and I to set a good example for a committed relationship—and because I never found the real Mister Right… you’ve never been exposed to a healthy romantic relationship.”
((Maybe… maybe I should have gotten to know them before rejecting them. I could have had a father. I would still have family.))
“And I have no idea what to expect down the road given the fact that before now you never had any boyfriends… or girlfriends.”
“Are you satisfied with the job I’m doing right now?”
“I’m happy that you’re happy. Let’s just leave it at that. Meditate awhile on how happy I am that you finally have someone.”
“Thanks. I love you, Shosh.”
“I love you, too, Esti.”
I thanked the mystery women upon their return. “Thanks. You saved my crime scene.”
“You’re welcome. Where’s your warrant and your CSI?”
“Not a clue. They were supposed to be here before me. And yet they aren’t, despite a van trapping my car in the parking garage and me hitting 8 red lights in a row on my way here. They should be here by now.” ((But before we get to talking, I need to know—who are you people?)) “My apologies, I’m more than a little overwhelmed right now, I believe I neglected to introduce myself.”
The short woman stuck out her hand. “I’m Agent Jessica Carson, this is Agent Jacklyn Kerouac.”
“No relation,” the other woman added, offering hers.
I accepted both. “Offic—I mean, Detective Andrea Bachman, SVPD Crimes Against Persons Unit, First Precinct. If you’re from the Department of Environmental Health… would you happen to deal with asbestos?”
“It’s practically our speciality,” replied Jessica. “It’s like our bread and butter, except crunchy… and carcinogenic.”
I chuckled. “I used to write parking tickets all day. I think I’d rather eat an asbestos sandwich than write another one of those.”
“Trust me, you don’t,” she said, very seriously. “Mesothelioma is an extremely unpleasant condition. One that this demolition crew may have just narrowly avoided giving themselves and bystanders.”
“So you’re saying there is asbestos in the building?”
“Oh, a building of this era would have been built with tons of the stuff, but we need to know whether it’s been removed in the meantime before the demolition can proceed, and we especially need to account for loose fibrils out in the open. Concerning said loose fibrils, we’ve received anonymous reports. A lot of them, about 400.”
There were perhaps 40 or 50 people in the group of SWG members I had talked to on the street, which meant each of them filed 8 reports, on average. I was certain they had recruited allies and sex workers from beyond the street, escorts and strippers and pole dancers and masseuses and adult film actors and webcam models and the like, but I figured that even with so many reinforcements they must have gotten busy the instant I trumpeted the charge.
“When we received word that there was a demolition taking place, we made this our number one priority. If Jackie hadn’t been watching the local news… the demolition would have scattered asbestos fibrils to the four winds, and the whole neighborhood would’ve become a miniature Superfund site. An Averagefund site, if you will.”
All this talk about hazards was making me nervous that our bluff might have been called by fate. “Is it safe to go inside?”
Two HIRT vans pulled up next to their car and a squad of people in yellow HAZMAT gear filed out the rear doors. The two agents thought long and hard about my question, and even longer and harder about their answers. I waited for an eternity; after what must have been a minute, they shared a decisive glance before Jacklyn said, “If all the asbestos tiles in the ceilings turn out to be intact and all the insulation is contained behind drywall, we’ll consider the building safe. But the reports indicated free asbestos spilling out of holes in the walls and ceilings.”
The fraudulent asbestos reports, while effective in delaying the demolition, had also succeeded in delaying my investigation. I was desperate to move forward, so I asked the smartest question I could think up. “What if my people wear N95s?”
“Skin exposure can result in calluses,” explained Jessica, “and, more importantly, asbestos fibrils can stick to clothing and continue to expose the wearer even after they’re no longer in contact with the source. We can’t afford to expose the agency to either of those liabilities—no matter how minor either may seem to you. We can only let you in if you wear full HAZMAT PPE.”
“(Crap on a stick,)” I muttered. ((I must wonder whether my people would be hesitant or even willing to work in an environment so hazardous that it requires full-body PPE, but a hunch is telling me they probably won’t be.)) “How long is it going to take to inspect the building?”
“Between us and you, Gunther and Sampson—the new owners of this dump—are ‘special community partners’—by which I mean major donors to the mayor’s campaign—so we’re being pressured to take care of this with undue haste so they can get back to rebuilding this street.”
“Esti… If the owners were trying to rush this demolition, they might have something to do with the Vice raid.”
“Huh. You might be onto something,” I told her.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Jacklyn.
“Sorry, I was… thinking out loud.” ((I wish I could extract some information out of Somers, anything about these developers, without potentially compromising our arrangement…)) “So… since they’re pushing for you to be quick, the inspection will be in-and-out?”
The blonde assessed the building from memory. “5 floors, 15 single-queen rooms per floor at 200 square feet per room—that’s approximately 15,000 feet; 1 day of inspection per 5,000 square feet—gives us an ETA of 3 days.”
“I’m on a missing person case, where every second costs a fortune, and it’s already been next to half a million of them since he was last seen, so here on out I need to make the best of the ones I have left.”
“Our people will be working full 8-hour days, we can’t go any faster, Detective.”
“You really think he’s alive?” asked Shosh.
“I don’t think it either way… but I have to work under the assumption he can still be saved.” The agents shared a bemused glance. “Agent Kerouac, I would hardly call 8 hours a full day. If you work overtime, you could be finished in a third of the time. Work 12 hours, then bring in a fresh crew at the end of the day crew’s shift.”
They looked at me doubtfully, and Jessica informed me, “That wouldn’t fly with the paper pushers; they rarely approve OT, and our team only has 8 technicians, out of which the 2 of us need to hang back and supervise the perimeter—and County HIRT isn’t going to help us out since hastening this inspection is a favor to the mayor and is of no concern to anyone outside the city. Besides that, this team is our people; neither of us wants to tell them they hafta spend time away from their families or burn the midnight oil.”
((Bullshit. Under late-stage capitalism, workers crave the money they can earn from overtime, especially with night differential. But these people don’t think that way, for reasons that are beyond me. I guess that’s good for them, though, for having healthy work-life balances and a rare pair of supervisors who respect their subordinates’ needs. I guess I’ll just have to upset that peace by playing the corruption card to force their hands.)) “If it makes Mayor Kind and his donors happy, you might not have a choice. Gunther and Sampson are probably already complaining to the mayor that you’re not working fast enough, and when the mayor finds out you aren’t going the extra mile by requesting overtime… he’s going to assume you aren’t taking seriously his request to expedite this inspection.”
They discussed what I told them at first with their eyes, then in whispers with their backs to me. I waited anxiously to find out just how good I was at persuading people, and I was also anxious that my patrol cars still might not arrive with the search warrant before HIRT was finished and the demolition could resume—even though 24 hours was a ridiculously generous amount of time to get to the scene. In fact, I wasn’t sure ‘my guys’ were going to show at all, whether out of incompetence or apathy or neglect or mistake… or malice.
The HIRT agents broke their huddle, and Jacklyn admitted, “You make a good point. An obvious point, in fact… we hadn’t given enough thought to how impatient our ‘beneficent overlords’ might be. As a favor to you, we’ll do our best to get you and your team to your crime scene ASAP.”
I had not realized how tense my shoulders were until they relaxed. “Thank you. Oh, thank you. I owe you. I’d do just about anything to express my gratitude.”
Again, they whispered to each other with eye movements and smirks, then Jessica asked smoothly, “Would you consider yourself a ‘free soul’, Detective?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you ‘live life to the fullest’?”
“Well…” ((I humped my girlfriend’s leg in public, I let her jerk me off in in my car parked on a major street and would have jerked her off had she given me the chance, I rode her cock raw at the peak of my fertility before letting her ejaculate inside me then subsequently repeated the insemination process several more times, I enthusiastically fucked the vice police captain for money then sold my body to her in exchange for fulfilling my lifelong dream of becoming a pig all over again…)) “Kind of. Yeah. I mean—I’m a respectable woman…”
“But you know when to make an exception when an opportunity comes along.”
“I suppose… maybe I’m the kind of girl who… in her free time, doesn’t bother considering the majority’s antiquated ideas about propriety.”
They glanced at each other, then back at me, devious smiles still shining on their faces. Jessica continued, “It’s an open secret in our office that, in spite of regs against partners getting too close, Jackie and I are… (partners.)”
“Oh? Good for you, for getting away with forbidden love in plain sight. I dig that.”
“Yes. We consider ourselves fortunate. Are you… fortunate?”
I hesitated, with only half an idea of what they meant by ‘fortunate’. “In the same way as you are?” They nodded. “Not… openly.”
“Your hesitation is good enough for me to presume you’re cool. You could make us more fortunate.” She winked.
I did not respond for some time, somewhere between an age and an eon. A hunch on its way to becoming a mature conclusion, and the wink she gave me, told me there was a subliminal message between her words, a euphemism whose very obvious meaning must only be deciphered by me if I was the type to agree to it—and if I wasn’t, I was expected to misinterpret, knowingly or not, what they were saying as something innocuous. But I owed them something, and this would not be my first time wandering beyond the boundaries of my established relationship. It would, however, be my first time being with two people at once, and my first time without Judy’s permission. (I had wiped the foreman episode from memory.) “If you want me to make the two of you more fortunate… we’re gonna need some privacy.”
Shosh shook her head but donned a conflicted smile more strained than an over-tuned piano wire, and with a pat on my shoulder bid me, “Good luck, Casanova,” as she departed for the hotel.
“Thanks.”
Both women shared the same mischievous smile, and Jacklyn said, “The van isn’t ideal, but my girl and I do get a thrill out of fucking on the job, especially with the risk of getting caught.”
I groaned.
“Too risky for you?”
“I wish I could say that, but, unfortunately for my mental and criminal well-being, cars parked in public places are some of my favorite places for sex.” ((Though I would not be surprised to discover that anywhere public is a favorite place for sex…))
{On my back on a park bench with my tits out and jiggling as Judy pumps away at my pussy, passing joggers and cyclists and dog-walkers who stare at us before quickly escaping the scene—except the curious ones who watch and listen. The popcorn man wheels his cart next to us and starts selling bags upon bags at inflated prices to the crowd gathering to witness the spectacle of two women fucking in broad daylight.} I shivered. {Although the benches at Hillside Park might not fit Judy’s six-plus feet of woman. Perhaps a survey of the city parks is in order, to find one long enough to accommodate somebody of her stature.}
“If anything, the fact that there’s only one window for outsiders to peek through… is a drawback.” This elicited amused snickers. Jessica opened the rear door to the nearest van, and gestured, [After you.] I clambered in and waited behind the front seats. “There is not a lot of room.”
“We’ll make it work,” said Jacklyn as the two followed me in. “But before we get started… Have you ever been with a transgender woman?”
“My girlfriend—”
“You have a girlfriend?” they asked in unison—with mock surprise.
“Um. Yes.”
It is only in hindsight that I recognize that Jessica was being playful in chastising me. “You’re about to cheat on your girlfriend! Do you have any sense of propriety, any shame?”
“Y-yes, of course I do!” ((Judy’s okay with me being Somers’ booty call… but is she okay with me servicing other people? Do I have a choice in being with Somers? Technically, yes—though if I break it off with her, I lose my job. And… if I stay with her, she might have more to offer, and future favors could save or advance my case. To these two, on the other hand, I am not so beholden, so this situation is less clear.)) “Would you mind if I called her and asked if it’s okay to do this?”
“Is she the type to say ‘yes’?” asked Jacklyn, a hint of ridicule in her voice.
“I’m not sure. But she doesn’t mind the fact that I’m already in a relationship with somebody else.”
“This is not the sort of thing for which one asks permission beforehand,” explained Jessica, “but…” She shrugged. “Follow your conscience, if you insist on having one.”
I called and Judy picked up on the fourth ring. “Hey, girl! I saw on Hootr that Environmental Health stopped the demolition, congratulations on the victory!” I heard a man grunting and groaning in the background, and assumed I’d caught her in the middle of watching porn.
“Thanks, Judy. There’s just been one little hiccup…”
“Uh-oh. What happened?”
“They aren’t letting me investigate the scene until they’ve finished examining the building for asbestos.”
(Please,) moaned the masculine voice in the background, (please let me—) “Shit. God damn it. Is there any way to convince them to make an exception to the rules? A few pigs with mesothelioma is nobody’s loss.” (Oh, God, please…)
“No, but I convinced them to work on it 24 hours straight instead of 8 at a time, and at that rate they estimate it’ll take only a single day instead of 3. I’d like it if I could get in even sooner, but I don’t have any solutions.”
(Ahhh…! Just like… that…! Ohhh…!) “That sucks, but at least you’re handling the situation in stride. Tell them I say ‘thanks’.”
“My girlfriend says thanks for making my job easier,” I told them. “I was actually calling you about… (ehem…) giving them my own special thank you.”
(I want your mouth…) “Oh? Are they making you fuck them in return for the favor?”
“Hmm… Actually… that’s… exactly what’s going on.”
She snickered, “How many of them are there?”
“Two.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard, you’re a very lively woman, Bachman.”
“I’m inferring from your reaction that you’re okay with me having sex with other people.”
“As long as you’re okay with me fucking other people, too, and as long as you ask them when they were last tested and what the results were.”
The thought of keeping her to myself struck me like lightning. Jealousy seeped out of my veins. ((You’re mine. You belong to me.)) “I—I don’t know if…”
“Do you not want to have an open relationship?”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind… seeing other people, but…”
“But?”
“I—I don’t—want—you to.”
“You want to have the freedom to have other relationships, but you want me all to yourself.”
“(Um, well… Yes, actually,)” I admitted sheepishly.
“You realize how unfair that is?”
“Well—I can’t stop you from being with other people. I won’t hate you, I won’t get in the way if… if being with someone makes you happy. I—just—thinking about you being with someone else makes me feel… very strongly.”
“You wouldn’t stop me if I had sex with someone or started another relationship?”
“No. I wouldn’t like it, but if you do it, I’ll let you.”
“You sure you wouldn’t like it?”
“Would I like you being with someone else?”
“Yes. Would you enjoy knowing that I’m fucking someone in your bed while wondering who I love more, you or her?”
My brain began to melt.
“Andy? Did I cross a line?”
My clit throbbed. “Ahh… We can—” I swallowed. “—we can try—” I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “—try it out for a while…”
“You sound nervous.”
“It’s a cr—crazy proposal.”
“But you like it.”
My lips soured. “(Ohhhh…) Alright, yeah, I admit it. I like the idea. A lot. As much as I hate the idea of you sleeping around, it also… fucks with my head. In a good way.”
“That’s what I thought.” I could hear her grin.
“When you—when you use my bed, leave it unmade after you’re finished. And have them hide their underwear somewhere I’ll find it. Oh! Try to get the underwear nice and wet from their juices and sweat… and get their cum on it. I want to be able to smell them. And! They should leave their toothbrush behind! Come up with reasons for me to get out of the apartment so you can invite them over. They can sleep on my side of the bed and get their scent on my pillow and my bathrobe. Let them leave an article of clothing in my closet. And when I return, I want to smell them on you, their musk and their perfume—I want to know someone was in my bed. I want to be able to piece together their life despite never having seen their face, just based on the evidence they’ve left behind. I want you to tell me the two of you are just close friends, I want to meet them in person, even get to know them, become their best friend, all the while knowing what they’ve taken from me.”
There was a short silence. “(Wow.)”
“‘Wow’ what?”
“You do realize you have a huge cuckoldry fetish?”
It ought to have been obvious to me. I had an inexplicable interest in videos of people cucking and being cucked on PornTheater.vids. However, I had pretended with her when we first met that I knew nothing about the art of sex, so I had no choice but to lie, “I never heard of ‘cucking’ before now.”
“Of course you haven’t…”
I shook my head—then realized she couldn’t see me shake my head, so I said, “Nope.”
“You are so innocent, Miss Bachman.”
“Yeah… I sure am…”
“Anyway, I take it you’re happy to have an open relationship.”
“Oh, you bet your ass I’m looking forward to an open relationship, I’m gonna fuck more people than you are.”
She burst into laughter. “You’re on! Winner apologizes for being the most unfaithful by buying the other an expensive piece of jewelry.”
“God, I lo—I’m crazy about you. And you should start saving up for the grand prize. I will accept only the finest jewelry as consolation to me for being outcucked by you.”
She chuckled. “Of course. Expensive and beautiful.”
“I’m looking forward to kicking off this competition right now—with a double.”
“I apologize for stealing the honor of first out the gate by fucking one of my clients.”
I clenched my teeth and breathed with the forcefulness of a bull and felt the need to peek through the keyhole of their closet, possibly filming it to watch it later—though I would have to secure their consent first.
Either way, I was winning. I wanted that jewelry. I had never been interested in jewelry until the moment Judy suggested that the loser receive a material gift to heal their heartache and jealousy… It was such a weak salve against the gaping wounds in our relationship we were intentionally tearing as wide open as we could. The condescension, the impersonality, the absolute disdain one must have for one’s partner to think that gold and rubies could heal the wounds of adultery.
I fucking loved how sick it was.
“(So, you, uh,)” I seethed hornily, “(you’ve gotten a head start.)” My clit swelled.
“Yeah. I’m enjoying myself, letting him plead for me to finish him off. Orgasm denial isn’t one of my kinks, but this guy really likes being tortured.”
“Are you… using your hands?”
“Yes. And mouth. He likes it when I swallow his balls. Not both at the same time, of course, that’s dangerous.”
“Okay…” I tried to slow down my breathing. “I’ll let you get back to… swallowing his balls.”
“Have a good time being their unicorn.”
“As you wish. Think about my taste while you’re licking his cojones.”
“As you wish. Bye-bye.”
We hung up and I resisted the urge to reach down under my waistband and get to work on myself—I had an important job to do. I concentrated on leveling out my breathing, even if I could do nothing about the arousing effect of my jealousy. ((If she’s gonna fuck other people, I’m fucking twice as many.)) I was able to calm my breathing before informing the HIRT agents with a manic smile, “She’s okay with it.”