See?

The pasties come off with sharp little tugs. I feel the cool air hit my nipples first, then the wet triangle between my thighs peel away, leaving me bare. The floor is hard against my back, the wood cool and unforgiving, and I'm surrounded by the heat of their bodies as they press in close.

I don't cover myself. I just lie there, spread out, breathing hard from the tickling and the laughter and the sudden, dizzying exposure. The dark-haired guy is above me, one hand on my thigh. The muscular one is at my side, tracing a finger along the curve of my hip. The quiet guy kneels by my head, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"See?" I breathe, my voice a little hoarse. "That's what you get for taking the pasties off. Now you have to look at all of it."

I feel the wetness between my thighs, slick and cooling in the open air. The room has gone quiet except for the music, still pulsing through the speakers. I let my knees fall a little wider, a silent invitation that I don't have to voice.

But my eyes find Joe. Still out cold on the floor, his snoring a steady rhythm underneath the bass. And the guilt finally pricks through the warm haze of the alcohol. I push myself up on my elbows, looking at the guys surrounding me.

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