You Can't Have Her Without Me

Jordan and Stacy roll up the drive, Jordan white-knuckling the wheel like he’s about to meet the pope instead of his girlfriend’s mom. Stacy keeps glancing at the rear-view, chewing her lip raw. She’d told him the stepmom thing was complicated, but the word she never said was test. He’s shaky, she’s terrified—last guy washed out fast. Dinner smells like roast and red wine. Nancy sits at the head like she owns the table and Jordan’s nerve endings. Halfway through the first course her bare foot slides up his thigh, toes curling behind his zipper. Jordan freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. Stacy keeps talking about her poli-sci class, voice thin as paper while Nancy’s heel works slow circles through denim. Jordan mouths a silent “what the fuck?” across the table. Stacy only shakes her head—quiet plea, eyes glassy. He shoots up, blurts something about needing the bathroom, and flees. The second the door clicks behind him, Nancy’s hand lands on Stacy’s wrist. Same deal, Nancy says. Everything split. Break the pact and Jordan walks. Keep him and they all play. Stacy’s stomach twists; she likes him, wants the long haul, but the rule’s iron. She nods once. Jordan steps out of the bathroom to find both women already in the bedroom doorway, silk robes open, matching smiles. Stacy pulls him close, whispering promises and apologies at once. Nancy’s hands move to his belt. He resists, mutters excuses, but they press in—lips on his neck, fingers stroking, heat soaking every corner of air. The offer’s clear: stay and share or leave broke and horny. He looks at Stacy, sees the tremor in her mouth, then the hunger Nancy refuses to hide. He swallows, nods, pulse roaring. They strip him slow, sink him to the sheets, and he stops counting angles. Test passed, for now.