Keys to the
Glass Wall

I was the stranger across the air shaft, a nightly ghost watching their firelit silhouette—the way he took her against their window, the city blazing behind them like a witness. She knew. She wanted me to see. And when she came with her eyes locked on mine and he wrote 'Keys' in the condensation, I knew I was already caught in their gravity. Now she's open and glistening beneath me while he watches from that battered leather chair, and before the night is through, I've had my mouth on every part of her, felt his slow, deliberate claim from behind, and tasted both of them—her arousal, his sweat—on my tongue as I come a second time with the city lights still burning in that window I used to watch through. Anal. Threesome. The door doesn't lock anymore, and I'm not sure I want it to.