The Game Read Online Free PDF

she’d asked for. Hadn’t said a thing when he just slipped into the bed and drew the blanket up over them. He’d finally muttered that he thought they’d better conserve the water and asked her to deal with it until the morning. She agreed without questioning him.
    Thank God.
    Because he had some questions he had to ask himself.
    When had he begun to notice Frank’s body?
    When had the thought of watching Frank make love begun to turn him on?
    When had visions of Frank’s butt muscles flexing as he pumped his cock into someone made him hard, too?
    He rolled over on his side away from Shari. He could see the closed bedroom door.
    What would happen if he knocked on Marcie and Frank’s door and asked to come in?
    What would he do if they said yes?
    He was afraid to answer the question.
    He punched the pillow underneath his head and willed himself to relax. To think of something calming.
    Not visions of Frank’s sweaty body.
    He finally fell asleep at dawn.
    * * * *
    “The snow is still coming down.” Marcie turned from the window. A sliver of pale sunlight glinted on the dirty windowpane. “I can’t even see the car.”
    “I tried to get a signal on my cell.” Dave stared at the innocuous device in his hand with frustration. “Nothing.”
    A clatter of wood drew the attention of them both to the fireplace. Frank kneeled by the smoldering fire, stacking a fresh pile of wood. “Whoever built this cabin was pretty damn clever. There’s a small hinged door on the outside wall where the wood is stored. You just pull the logs in and when you see the top of the pile, you know it’s low, and you cut more.” He paused. “I can’t see the top yet.”
    Dave smiled. “My gramps was a smart guy.” He sighed. “But a little too trusting.”
    “Come and get it,” Shari called from the kitchen.
    They trooped into the shadowed room. Shari had scrounged up some faded tea towels from somewhere and four places had been set. Besides the two tipsy chairs, Dave and Frank had dragged in a worn-out hassock and an empty wooden chest from one of the bedrooms. A jar of peanut butter sat in the middle of the table, the sugar canister next to it. A platter of crackers was fanned out on the dented top of a pot. Whiffs of coffee wafted in the air.
    Marcie’s stomach rumbled, and she laughed and patted it.
    “You get the seal of approval. I am seriously impressed, Miss Shari. I didn’t know you were so domestic.”
    Dave kissed Shari’s cheek. “I didn’t know either. I haven’t seen her domestic side. Yet.” He sat down and inhaled the aroma of the dark brew in the cup before him. “You’ve done a terrific job.”
    Shari blushed to the roots of her hair. “Thanks. It really wasn’t anything.”
    “I’m going to pretend I’m at some weird fat farm run by a crazy person from a horror film and just enjoy.” Marcie reached for the peanut butter jar and opened it, sighing with delight as she sniffed the familiar nutty scent. She clutched the jar to her chest and shoved it under her shirt.
    Marcie’s outrageous actions lightened the mood once more.
    Frank groaned.
    “I don’t think I’ll ever look at peanut butter the same again. Oh, well, I was going to ask for seconds.”
    “Sorry. I’m screwing the cook. I’m the only one who gets seconds.” Dave grabbed Shari, and she squealed as he plunked her down on his lap, tickling her.
    * * * *
    “I like your roommate,” Dave muttered to Shari. He watched Marcie and Frank play Mad Libs , an old word game they’d found stuck underneath the couch. Only half of the puzzles were filled. He recognized his handwriting, Frank’s, and his gramp’s. He must have brought the game pad up one time when he visited and forgotten it. “She could have been a real bitch about this, but she hasn’t complained at all.”
    Shari nodded. “Marcie is great. She’s been on a couple of stories with me, and when I found out about the brownstone, I asked her to go halfsies . She’s really