Maggie 5-8 (Patreon)

He knew why she was crying and knew he was responsible. As generous as his gift of uninhibited sex with Cole might be billed, he’d done this for himself. She’d cheated, but it was he who had done it—it was him who had ruined the sanctity of their relationship. He watched from the crack in the door as the woman he loved desperately sobbed in emotional pain and he covered his mouth with a hand. Wanting to console her he had to restrain himself. His fingers pinched on the brass buckle that served as the backside of the knob that opened the armoire door. It would be so easy to push the door open and run to her, take her up in his arms and cry with her. Cry and tell her it would be all right.

But it was nowhere as easy as that. That was his version of events. The one where Max Milton was the hero of the story. That wasn’t reality. That was three-act Hollywood, and he was some under-educated fledgling screenwriter.

The truth? He would be stepping out like an evil game show host to reveal this was a prank. A Youtube stunt gone wrong. Maggie, you just got Punk’d. He saw himself through her eyes, emerging from the armoire, a witness to the most profoundly terrible thing that wonderful girl had ever done and he saw himself with hatred. With anger. Maggie would feel victimized. Made fun of. What they’d done was wrong.

Cole’s face loomed over her shoulder, fraught with concern, he said, “Maggie...Maggie, please don’t cry, please don’t...”

Through her hands, she said, “How could I do that?”

“It’s okay...I swear it’s okay...”

Slowly she withdrew her hands, wiped her cheeks dry, lay with her head flat on the bed, staring towards the armoire. She sniffed and blinked.

“Maggie...” Cole put his hand on her upper arm. She lay a hand over his.

She said, “I just wanted this to be fun. I never wanted it to hurt.”

“It hurts?”

“It hurts so much. My heart... My heart, Cole. My heart is hurting so bad right now. I cheated on him. With you...”

“Maggie, it’s things we’ve already done. You still love him...”

“Stop, Cole...Why did I do that? How could I do that?”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s really not.”

Cole ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wild and staring. “Are you...are you mad at me?”

She shook her head no. “I hate myself.”

“Why, Maggie? Don’t do that.”

She started to cry again, her face twisting up, and her hands balled to fists and covered herself so Cole couldn't see her.

“God,” Cole sighed, “please, don’t cry.” He put his arm around her and he watched the side of her head. He kissed her ear. “Maggie, Max and I love you, you hear me? This will be okay. Maggie, I love you.”

Max winced. There was so much to say and he wished he could be the one saying it. Wished Cole could hear his thoughts.

Maggie said, “Don’t say that—”

“It’s true—”

“Cole, stop.”

“Is that so wrong?”

She moaned again, covering her face up. Her body shook with light sobbing but she made no sounds of crying, only sniffling.

“Maggie, please, Maggie...” Cole said with great concern, putting his hand on her arm and peering around, wanting to see her face. “Maggie, I swear it's okay. You hear me?”

“Oh,” she groaned, “oh my poor Maxy, oh my poor Maxy...”

“Baby, please, don’t...” Cole soothed her. His own eyebrows had peaked in the middle, the sounds of her sadness drawing it out of him now too. He said, “Max knows.”

“No, he doesn’t,” she cried.

“He does, Maggie... I'm sorry... He told me this was okay.”

“What? No, he didn’t...”

“He did, Maggie. He knows.”

Max held his breath and watched. This was possibly the worst thing to happen, but if it would stop her from hurting, he wanted it. The sound of his perfect Maggie suffering was killing him. Maybe it would just be better for everybody if she was angry over sad. Maybe he should step out and take his punishment, his shame. But maybe this would be too big a transgression...

Her shoulders opened, her head rolled to face Cole, she said, “What are you saying?”

“I asked him if this was okay and he said he wanted it. Wanted it for you.”

“You're lying.”

“I swear, Maggie. You didn't hurt him by doing this.”

“What?” she gasped, bewildered, rolling away from him, and staring wide-eyed across the room, right at him though she couldn't see him.

“That fucking...what? Why? Why would he do this to me?”

Max’s scrotum bunched up hard like it was made of leather, his shrunken penis recoiled, his heart stopped, his scalp pulled tight, his eyes stretching wide.

Now she whipped around to face Cole, alert and worried. “You didn't show him that video...”

Cole didn't answer, but he shook his head vigorously, telling her no, his eyes wild and scared. He and Cole had both made a mistake here. This wasn't fun, this wasn't sexy, the girl they loved was hurting, she'd broken her own heart because of their actions. Neither of them would want to be party to that.

“Shit,” she whispered to herself, turning from Cole to look out the window at the nautical night. “What am I doing? ...” she whispered, “how did I get here?”

“It's okay, Maggie,” Cole said. “It's all okay. There's no harm done, Maggie, Max and I care about you, we love you.”

He tried to put his hands on her to console her but she shrugged him off putting up a hand of her own in between them and waving him away. She lay down again on the bed her face towards the armoire and Max witnessed the wetness of her eyes and the trembling of her lips. She balled up her fists again and put them over her face.

“Cole, I am in so way over my head I can barely breathe...”

“Secret society, Maggie. We will look out for you. We all look out for each other...”

“You’re not the only other man I sleep with.”

Cole flinched like she’d slapped him. “What?”

Maggie didn’t answer but her fists withdrew and Max could see her staring blankly in his direction.

Cole sat up over her. “Maggie? ...”

She blinked.

“Maggie,” he said firmly, his voice rising with anger. His hand gripped her upper arm.

She shrugged, said, “There’s another guy.”

Cole shook his head in disbelief as he considered what she was saying. He clutched a fist over his heart. Now his eyes rose up to the gap in the armoire and Max could see the anger in him. He let her go, his hands clenched in fists and he sat up on the edge of the bed. Maggie didn’t stir.

She said, “I think he loves me too. Max said I should break his heart.”

Cole’s face turned to watch her as she lay still on the bed, his face forlorn.

She said, “This is all too much for me. Way too much. It’s not what I wanted at all.”

Cole went to her, gripped her arms with both hands and pulled her up to sit and face him. “Don’t. Don’t ever sleep with another man. Okay?”

Max couldn’t see her expression, only the side of her face as she stared into Cole’s eyes.

“Maggie, you don’t ever sleep with someone else.”

“Say it again,” she whispered.

He put a finger in her face, his twisted expression of anger and dominance was genuine. “Don’t you fucking dare sleep with anyone else.”

“Why?” she cried.

“Who is he? Do I know him?”

She shook her head. “Am I a slut?”

His face was angry, disgusted. “No. What?”

“Forbid me,” she cried.

“Forbid you?”

“I hate that I’m bad, Cole,” she said, and she eased her cheek onto his chest. He held her.

But she pushed herself back, said, “Let me go,” her voice a coarse injured whisper. “Just let me go, please.”

“No, Maggie, stay with me.”

She pushed him away angrily, got herself off the bed. Now she stood naked, addressing Cole, who sat up, his face earnest and open to her. Her slender back was to Max, and he felt ashamed that his eyes were drawn to her pert and perfect ass in this painful moment. He chewed the inside of his lip, knowing Cole was seeing her front, bare and unabashed.

She spoke in stuttered breath, shivering tension in the muscles of her back, stiffness in her wagging arms as she railed. She said, “My...my father...the video...the...Ken saw the video...saw us three...the wedding, the dress, the...the...what am I doing with my life, Cole? What am I doing? My Max...wants so much...I want it too...but I don’t want...I don’t know what I want...”

“Hey, whoah,” he said, putting his hands up and moving to the edge of the bed, his feet touching the floor. He moved to hold her wrists, and she thrust her arms out of his reach and turned, one hand on her hip, one across her forehead. She was beautiful like this, one hip cocked, long ponytail over her shoulder, covering one breast.

Somehow she knew about Ken. Somehow she figured Ken had seen them. The word video worried him. Had there been evidence?

Cole stood, Max’s eyes drawn to his swinging, naked cock, and he moved behind Maggie but he didn’t touch her. She began to shake again as if he was crying, she shed no tears, but her mouth twisted up as if she would.

“God, Max...my Max...”

He flinched at the sound of his name being spoken, but she shook her head, sniffed.

“My Maxy, I cheated on him. How could I do that?”

He needed Cole to act for him, needed Cole to be his proxy—to make their girl feel better, to ease her hurting. Because he couldn’t do it. Didn’t need to if Cole would do it for him.

Cole’s hands covered her shoulders, and she wriggled out of his grip and she turned, punched his chest with the heel of her balled up hand. “How could you do that?”

“I’m sorry, Maggie, I’m sorry. I knew I could. Knew you wanted—”

“I just...I just...Fuck I have to get out of here...”

She shook her head, her eyes wild and staring as she walked to the foot of the bed and scooped her dress from the floor. She threw it over her head, thrust her arms through the straps and shimmied her hips until it fell in place. Her mouth was set firm and angry, her brow lowered but her eyes glimmered wet with sadness.

“Please don’t go,” Cole said.

“I have to. We had to bring the Mercedes, remember? I can’t stay here,” she said as she held a hand on the post of the bed to steady herself as she slipped her feet into the high heels.

Max wanted Cole to grab her, hold her, make her stay. Just stop her! Put your arms around her and squeeze her tight until she stops hurting. But he didn’t. He gave her space. He stepped around her, following her. She whisked her keys out of his jacket pocket, snatching it up from where it lay on the floor.

When she was ready, headed to leave, grabbing her clutch off the dresser, she stormed past the gap in the armoire, very close, close enough to feel a breeze from her movement—and that’s when she stopped.

It was deathly quiet, and he was sure she could hear his heart beating a frightening staccato, the wooden walls of the hollow armoire reverberating like the shell of a drum.

“Oh no,” she gasped. She was turned to the side, her body angled to trot down the one step to the lower section, headed for the fireplace, the couch, and the door that would take her out of this luxurious suite. Her head was bowed down, her eyes open and focused, though staring at the carpeted floor. Something had occurred to her. Her head whipped around, her eyes blazing through the gap in the door, looking right at him.

A scream ripped through his insides, his brows darted up in worry and panic. His body began to shudder. She was going to see him, she was going to see him for the liar and manipulator he was. She would see his truth and she would hate him.

She stepped to the armoire door. He smelled her perfume. Her hands came to the knobs and in one second she would whip the doors open and she would see him. Hiding in the armoire, a dirty little pervert in semen-stained sweatpants and a comfortable T-shirt, burrowed in the nest he’d made, bringing in sheets and pillows like a dirty bird building its nest.

“Oh, no, oh please,” she whispered, her hands still held on the knobs of the armoire’s double doors.

Her head nodded downward and she let the handles go, afraid of what she would find in the armoire—as afraid as Max that he would be found. She stood, back humped, shoulders slumped. Cole stood at the foot of the bed, head turned down as well, both his hands cupped his genitals.

Maggie walked away. A flood of relief rose up in him. Though she left because she knew he was in there. Knew and didn’t want to see it with her own eyes. In that moment he should have kicked the doors open and held her, and if she refused him, he should have supplicated himself at her feet. He worshiped her. But he did nothing. The moment happening so fast it was easier to let time take its course, let the moment play out in relative safeness behind the doors of his coffin. Her heels clicked the floor, grew distant. Something in him screamed to go to her but it was safe and warm in here, damn it, and for now, maybe she wanted to believe her Max was not hiding in the closet having arranged for a man to seduce her and fuck her so he could watch. Would she ever believe it had been for her?

“Maggie, wait,” Cole said, putting himself into action now. He grabbed his pants off the floor and thrust his feet through the legs, pulled them up, cock bouncing as he went, going without underwear. The door to the room closed. It wasn’t slammed, she wasn’t angry. He wished she was angry, he’d rather her angry than hurt.

“Shit,” Cole hissed, snatching up his shirt and throwing it on.

Max stepped out of the armoire, blinking in the light, he stood waiting to know Cole’s reaction to all this. “Cole...?”

“Dude, don’t talk to me right now.”

“What?”

Cole paused, looked at him, holding his suit jacket in his hands, his shirt buttons misaligned, so one side of the collar sat askew. “You let her have sex with some other fucking guy?”

He nodded, his eyes breaking contact and looking out the window, seeing only the reflection of the interior of the room. No escape.

“Who? Who the fuck?”

He wanted to shrug, say never mind. Avoid this. But part of him wanted it all to be over. To just repair it all, and maybe Cole could help. “Guy from State. Jay Carmichael.”

Cole tsked, exhaled, shook his head in disgust. “Jay Carmichael? You’re a fucking asshole.”

Now Max watched his friend’s reflection. Saw Cole staring at him, felt the disgust, knew it was deserved.

“Just go,” he told Cole. “Go to her. Make her okay. Don’t let her hurt.”

Cole shook his head, “God, Max...”

“Please, go, Cole.”

“I am,” he said firmly, trying to get Max to look him in the eye.

Max avoided him, still stared at the backward image of the room he saw in the glass. Watched Cole shake his head again, throw his hands up. He slipped his feet into his shoes and ran after Maggie.

When he was alone in the room, he listened to the quiet, to the absence of Maggie and Cole’s sounds. The fire still hissed and popped, his heart pulsed blood along the sides of his neck, rushing past his eardrums. He stood for a long while and thought. Thought about all his mistakes and what on earth would make it all right. What would make his Maggie happy again?

He went to the bed—the bed Cole and she had fucked on, made love on—and he lay on the sheets. When he found the warm spot where his two best friends had coupled he took his shirt off. He put his bare skin on the heat they had generated and the sheets had soaked from their mating bodies. He nestled into it and wondered what tomorrow would bring. Where would they all be? He’d made some mistakes but he wouldn’t be selfish anymore. His hand found a wet spot, and he didn’t avoid it. Instead, he clutched the slippery fabric up in his fist and pulled it close to his heart.