The Audience Under My Bed

For the three years I was with Jocelyn, I thought our bedroom was sacred. I believed it was the one corner of the world where neither of us had to perform.

Until that night. We had just finished, our breathing still slowing in the dark, when a muffled chuckle drifted up from beneath the bed frame.

The dust ruffle shifted.

My friend Brett crawled out from underneath, holding up his phone with the camera pointed straight at my face.

He shook the screen and grinned. "Man, Sam, you should’ve seen your face just now. Pathetic."