He sat down.
The throne was cold.
He kept his eyes closed.
## The Bedroom
His eyes opened in the dark.
The ceiling of the bedroom was above him, ordinary and silent, and the weight against both his sides was warm and soft and breathing.
He lay still for one full second, orienting.
His right hand was resting over Jenny's breast, fingers slightly curled, the weight of it pressing the soft flesh upward gently with her every exhale.
Vivienne's ringed nipple grazed his ribs.
Both women were deep asleep.
He moved his hand off Jenny slowly, sat up, and the mattress shifted with the redistribution of his weight.
Neither woman stirred.
He turned himself sideways and lay back beside them, flat on his back, one arm folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
He pressed his other hand over his eyes.
"Shit." The word came out in a long, low exhale. "That was weird."
The dark room absorbed it without comment.
He lay there for a moment.
Just breathing.
