The empty room

The apartment was vacant and the job was done. I had painted it the week before and I was not on a clock when I invited people back. This was not a work site anymore. It was a room I chose, with the drop cloth folded in the corner and the windows bare. I stood in the middle in a white t-shirt and canvas pants, honey-blonde hair in a knot, a white paint freckle still on my cheek from a different day. Wristband on. I can leave a night like this. That is the whole point of the band.

Amos is forty-three. I call him sometimes. I am not his girlfriend, and I fucked other people the week before this and I will fuck other people after. Jules is thirty-two. Hari is thirty-seven. All three had bands. All three had heard the word. Done means stop. Not a debate. Not one more stroke. I said it in the empty room before anybody got a cock out, and each of them said done back to me so I could hear they had it. I told them I might say it because I was finished and happy, and that they would still stop like it was urgent. They agreed. I laughed, because the rule is easy if you are not trying to own me.

I picked the order. Hari first. I got the canvas pants off, kept the shirt, and bent over a low stool we had left. Hari fucked my cunt, steady, hands on my hips, and I told him when he could cum. He came inside, a hot pulse, and stayed until I nudged him off. Jules next. I sucked his cock for a minute so he could taste how relaxed I was, then I put him in my cunt on my back on the floor, Hari cum already leaking, which I wanted. Jules fucked me and came in me when I said so. I rubbed my clit and came on his cock before he finished, laughing into my own wrist. Amos watched because I told him to wait. He knows he is not the only one. I like his face when he remembers.

Amos fucked me last, slower, his cock pushing their cum and his own need deeper. I held his shoulder and told him I was not his and that I liked his cock anyway. He said he knew. He came in my cunt because I asked to be full from all three. I lay there, stuffed and grinning, and then I said done. They stopped. Hands off. Nobody argued. Jules brought water. I drank it and told them, clearly, that I was fine and finished, that done was me closing the night and not an emergency, and that I could have walked after Hari and the band would still have meant walk. They nodded. I meant it. I wiped my thighs, pulled the pants up, and left them to lock a room that was not my job. The van smelled like citrus and I drove it home alone.