I keep my voice steady when Thane asks me to imagine Ashton watching us in the equipment shed. My body has always felt too much, too soft, but his commands make me describe every inch as if it could satisfy them both. It began as talk over the harvest documents. It has not stayed talk.

He steps close behind me and asks for more of the picture. I tell him how it would feel if Ashton touched me too. I tell him they could share the weight of my breasts while he directs every move. Each time he asks, the answer comes easier, and he knows it.

The keys slip from his grasp and scatter across the floor. His grip on me tightens. I swore I would only ever say these things out loud. I am already past that line.