I left them sleeping the next morning. I tried to wake them, but a few grumpy mumbles were all I got for my trouble. Even as I dressed, Sean squirmed over to Joe’s side of the bed and wrapped his hand around his cock.
If that didn’t wake Joe, nothing would.
For the first time, I noticed Sean wasn’t circumcised. Still buttoning my sheer silk blouse, I walked around the bed to get a closer look. His relative slightness might have exaggerated the effect but – goodness – his equipment was large. The foreskin hugged his heart-shaped glans like a smooth pink turtleneck. I put one knee on the mattress and kissed the little dimple at the base of his spine. He stirred. He smacked his lips. Encouraged, I tongued the honey-gold down that shadowed his tailbone.
‘Mm-bm,’ was all he said.
I peeked over his hip. His penis had begun to wriggle against the white sheet, filling from the bottom up. The head poked out a smidgen more. I sighed. I remembered how men got in the morning. He and Joe were sure to have a quickie when they finally woke. I wished I had time to stay and watch – and help, of course!
Later, I promised, but it was hard to drag myself away, even if I was late for work.
My resentment faded as soon as I hit the great outdoors. The day was beautiful: bright blue sky, flaming autumn leaves. The walk from Society Hill to South Street led through the city’s best-kept eighteenth-century buildings. If that weren’t satisfaction enough for one morning, three male joggers turned to check the posterior fit of my yellow Capri pants. I congratulated myself for pairing them with the matching crop jacket, and rewarded my best-looking admirer with a wink. He promptly tripped over his shoelaces.
During the ensuing ‘are-you-all-right?’ exchange, he passed me his card. I appreciated the gesture, but wondered how compulsive you had to be to carry business cards out jogging. Plus, he wasn’t built as nicely as Sean or Joe.
Good grief, I thought. One night of Rocky Road and I was spoilt for plain vanilla.
I glanced at the card as I crossed Fifth Street. ‘L. Kingston Waters,’ it said. ‘Estate Agent.’ He might as well have been a used car salesman. He did have nice blue eyes, though – bedroom eyes, with curly black lashes starring the lids.
The door to my bookshop jingled as I pushed it open. My heart warmed at the sight of so many customers browsing the stacks. Everyone told me you can’t sell romance in the city. You’ve got to locate in the suburbs to catch the bored housewives. Luckily, I didn’t listen. One year later, Mostly Romance out-grossed the local chain and the popular new age bookshop two doors down. Our atmosphere accounted considerably for our success. We boasted oak panelling, moulded ceilings and comfy chairs. A jungle of greenery enhanced the scent of leather and printer’s ink. We also served the best coffee in town. Women came in giggling carloads from as far as Virginia. Men shopped for their wives or tried to pick up dates. People couldn’t find what we had anywhere else, and once you took our back room into account, we were well-nigh irresistible.
The back room was my special baby. It housed a collection of erotica from all over the world, a real treasure house of delights. Customers wrote thanking me for creating a safe space to buy and explore. I was happy to do it; I knew how they felt.
I pondered, as I’d begun to do lately, whether it was time to open a second shop.
Flushed with my own success, I waved to Keith, the morning sales assistant, declined his offer of coffee, and headed for the office I shared with my partner Marianne. Marianne was my sister-in-law – actually, my ex-sister-in-law, since my big brother had done a moonlight flit. For years she’d been my closest friend, the only friend who stuck by me after my own divorce. Living with Tom had brought out my bitchy side. He was the charmer, not me. Consequently, our mutual friends had no trouble believing his version of the facts. To them I was the harpy wife, and he the long-suffering soul of patience.
Sometimes I thought the only reason Marianne knew better was because Tom had run off with her daughter.
At my tardy entrance, she looked up from the computer inventory. She arched one thin brow. ‘Late night?’
I hummed evasively. Marianne liked sharing her exploits, but I preferred to keep mine private – especially since I’d discouraged her from making a play for my lodgers by swearing they were absolutely, positively, one hundred per cent gay.
Now she spread her silver-tipped fingers across the surface of her desk. Marianne had gone Gothic lately: white face, ink-black hair, skin-tight leather. She carried it off with élan, one of the few women who could without looking like death warmed up.
At my continued silence, she pursed her lips – her bee-stung, scarlet lips. ‘I suppose you don’t want to hear about my encounter with Keith, then.’
In spite of myself, I was interested. ‘Our Keith, from out front? Marianne, he’s barely eighteen.’
‘Nineteen,’ she corrected with a Cheshire cat grin, ‘and very hormonal.’
My glance flashed around the room looking for signs of coitus – semen smears, lipstick on the wall.
‘Not here, silly.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘I bumped into him in Rittenhouse Square last night. He was cycling; I was strolling. We stopped to chat. It turns out, he’s the one who’s been “borrowing” my nice Italian shoes.’
Grabbing my chair, I rolled it to the front of her desk and sat. ‘He’s a transvestite?’
‘No, no.’ She waved her silver claws. ‘Just a foot fetishist. He says I’ve got the best arches he’s ever seen. I never knew how inspiring that kind of admiration could be.’ Her sooty lashes dipped with pleasure. ‘You know the wall behind the big wading fountain in the park?’
I nodded.
‘After I let him know his confession didn’t disgust me, he parked his bike there and set me on the seat. He swung his leg over the bar, facing me, and pulled off my shoes. First he massaged my feet, ver-ry slowly. Oh, it was nice, especially since I could see how much he enjoyed it. His hands were shaking. He could hardly sit still. He was wearing those stretchy biker’s shorts.’ She smiled creamily at me. ‘No jockstrap and hard as a rock in about six seconds. I could see everything – every vein, every ridge. He has the biggest balls I’ve ever seen: each one a handful, you know?’
I didn’t, but I could imagine. I pressed down hard on the cushion of my chair. Why did I let Marianne do this to me? ‘And then what?’
‘Then he licked me. Not just the toes, but everything – heel, ankle, the long bones on the top. I never knew my feet had so many lovely nerves, and every one connected to my pussy. I tell you, I was ready to screw the bike seat.’
‘Did he want to screw?’
‘Do ducks quack? Fortunately, I was wearing my favourite black mini-skirt, the one with the studs up the side. He pushed it up a bit and whipped out his Swiss Army knife.’ She laughed and tossed her straight black hair. ‘I love a man who carries his own tools. Anyway, he sliced the crotch of my underwear and pushed real close so no one could see what we were doing – except kissing, of course. He was a nice kisser, too, lots of tongue action. I pushed those lycra shorts down until he sprang out and then I slid straight down on him. It was nice, Kate, hot and strong.’ She fanned herself. ‘Young men do get so desperate.’
‘Especially when they’re acting out their fantasies,’ I said, thinking of Sean and his tube of lubricant.
‘Exactly. He didn’t take but a second to come. I was disappointed, until I realised he was just warming up. “Please don’t go,” he said, when I was about to climb off. “When someone gets me this hot, once is never enough.” As you might imagine, I was happy to oblige. The second time did last forever. We had to be careful, with all those people walking by. We couldn’t thrust really hard – just little shakes and rolls with that bike seat digging into me the whole time. Deliciously frustrating. He had to grind his thumb over me before I could come, but when I did, I thought the top of my head would fly off. Then we adjourned to my car.’
‘To your car?’ Marianne owned a classic Volkswagen Beetle.
‘He wasn’t going to make it all the way to my house. I’m telling you, Kate, the boy was pneumatic. The back seat was cramped, but – hey – I’m flexible. He took me twice before I drove him back to campus. He’s a student at the University of Pennsylvania.’ She tapped her nose with one finger. ‘I wonder if he knows your lodgers.’
I sensed visions of orgies dancing through her head. Alarm bells rang in mine. Despite my fondness for Marianne, I had no desire to share my sex life with her, or my new playmates.
‘Sean and Joe are postgraduate students,’ I said. ‘Keith is only in his second year.’
Marianne shrugged. ‘Just a thought. No need to get miffed.’
Her indifference was feigned, of course. If I gave her the least encouragement, she’d have us all in bed within the hour – though my presence was probably optional. I didn’t know what she’d do if she discovered I’d lived out her fantasy already. Marianne had a competitive streak as wide as the Ben Franklin Bridge.
I pulled my chair back to my walnut roll-top desk and started slitting correspondence – bills, authors’ fliers, a postcard from my favourite publisher’s rep. Sorting them like a robot, I thought: Better make sure she doesn’t find out. Otherwise, I’ll never hear the end of it.
Sean wandered in at noon, carrying a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums. I thanked God Marianne was out to lunch.
‘For you,’ he said, then turned full circle to view the shop.
I watched him from behind the counter. Joe had dropped by many times, but never Sean. Two college girls pinkened as his gaze passed over them. He didn’t seem to notice, which worried me. Was his attraction to me a big exception for him? If it was, our trio could break up awfully quickly. I wasn’t sure how Joe would react to that. Joe was very loyal. He might give me up, too, if he thought his friend wasn’t happy.
‘This is nice,’ Sean said, his scrutiny complete. ‘If I were a woman, I’d shop here.’
‘If you were a man looking to pick up girls, you might shop here, too,’ I said, then blushed for what I might have implied. ‘Um, what are the flowers for?’
He grinned. ‘What do you think? They’re a thank you from both of us – and an apology. We meant to wake up early and, you know, fit one more in, but I’m afraid neither of us is a morning person.’
This must mean my standing breakfast date with Joe was more of a tribute than I’d known. Annoyed with my pleasure at the discovery – for hadn’t I promised to keep things light? – I reached under the counter for a vase. ‘They’re beautiful. Are you on your way to class or can you stay awhile?’
My invitation brought him up short. For a second, he looked like a wallflower who couldn’t believe he’d been asked to dance. I felt good for asking, if a little worried for feeling good.
‘I can stay,’ he said.
‘Good. I’ll show you around.’
I gave him the grand tour: new books, used books, the coffee lounge on the balcony. We finished in the back room. He headed straight for the old-fashioned rolling ladder and climbed to the top. The kid in me took over.
‘Hold on,’ I said, and shoved him the full length of the wall.
He whooped in delight. ‘I love these things. My mother was a librarian. She never let me play with them.’
‘She probably wasn’t allowed to.’
He nodded, his face shadowed with conflicting emotions. How complicated people are once you start to know them. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Does that door lock?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but –’
Without waiting for me to finish, he clambered down and latched it.
‘A customer might want to get in,’ I said, but the determination in his face weakened my resistance, and my knees.
He plastered his back to the door. ‘Come here.’
I closed the distance between us and waited. His wavy gold hair swooped over one eye. Long in front and short in back, the style suited his sullen, bad-boy looks. Accountancy student or not, Sean had the face of a handsome day labourer. With his rugged features, his full, sensual lips and heavy-lidded eyes, he looked like a man who’d drink too much on weekends, keep his wife popping out babies, and shout obscenities during sporting events.
Apart from a fondness for obscenities, none of it was true.
‘I haven’t kissed you yet,’ he said. ‘He has, but I haven’t.’
I stroked the side of his face. He wasn’t more than an inch taller than me. ‘Don’t kiss me because Joe has. Kiss me because you want to, if you want to.’
‘If I want to –’ He captured my hand and dragged it down his black T-shirt. His body felt warm – too warm. My fingers snagged on his waistband, then settled over the impressive swell behind his buttoned flies. He covered my hand and pressed hard. His erection barely gave. My pulse shifted into high gear. Maybe Joe wasn’t the only one who wanted to get me alone.
‘Now, does that feel like I don’t want to kiss you?’
‘If you’re trying to prove something –’
He cut me off with an impatient tut. ‘I don’t have to prove anything. I sleep with people I like, people who impress me. I admit they’re usually men but, hell, sometimes lightning strikes in funny places.’ He squeezed my hand over his cock again. ‘I’m not arguing with ol’ Willy here. He knows what he likes and he never lies.’
‘That’s very flattering but –’
‘Be quiet,’ he said, and yanked my head to his for a kiss.
His tongue pressed directly home, subduing mine with force and expertise. His hand clamped the back of my neck, steel-hard and work-rough. Something flowered in me at this treatment, something secret and dark. I struggled against the kiss for the sheer pleasure of inspiring more displays of mastery. His arm tightened on my waist. He lifted me, turned, and shoved me back against the door. The weight of his body trapped me in place, and the strength of his legs. He ground his hardness into my softness. Wanting more, I slung one leg high on his hip, clamped both hands on his adorable butt, and rocked back.
‘Like that, bitch?’ His teeth nipped my earlobe. Though the name shook me, I laughed at him. His hazel eyes narrowed. ‘I’ll make you beg,’ he said.
‘Yeah?’ I blew a stream of air through his fringe. ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes to prove it. Marianne will be back in twenty and I’m not in the mood to share.’
He flashed his teeth at that, half grin, half alpha wolf display. Before I could wonder what he’d do next, he attacked my side zip and yanked my snug yellow trousers to my ankles.
‘Hands and knees,’ he said. When I stubbornly shook my head, he dragged me to the rolling ladder and manhandled me into the position he wanted. He was so powerful he didn’t even have to hurt me to do it. He simply moved me as he pleased and I wasn’t strong enough to stop him.
Panting with excitement, I grabbed the second rung. Joe couldn’t protect me now. Sean would take me any way he wanted, as hard as he wanted, as fast as he wanted. He pushed my knees wider with the tip of his construction boot. My bottom felt chilled, exposed. A drop of sexual moisture ran down my inner thigh. I knew he must be staring at it.
‘I’ll give you one thing,’ he said. ‘That is one prizewinning, wet-and-ready ass. Too bad I haven’t got time to spank it.’
‘You and whose army?’
This time he laughed at me. I heard buttons popping, foil tearing. I turned my head. He’d shoved the flaps of his jeans down past his bare hips – he wore no underwear – and was slathering lubricant up and down his thinly sheathed prick. His motions were quick, but not so quick he couldn’t enjoy them.
‘Eyes front!’ The heel of his boot reinforced the whispered order, pressing my buttocks hard enough to shock.
‘Fifteen minutes,’ I reminded him, defiant to the last.
‘Eleven. And don’t think you aren’t mine already.’
He dropped to his knees behind me, surrounding me in warmth like cocoa on a cold day. He didn’t remove my short jacket or my blouse: merely shoved my silky shirt-tails to my waist. Considering I was bared like a surgery patient, I couldn’t believe how comfortable I felt. Customers trod the aisles mere feet away. I heard the floorboards creaking under their shoes. A man I scarcely knew was about to initiate me into a potentially painful sex act and I’d never felt safer in my life.
‘I must be losing my mind,’ I said.
‘No, babe, you’re about to find it.’ Sean laced our fingers together around the ladder rung. He cupped my pussy from the front and rotated my sex against my pubic bone. If anything, the rough handling made me wetter. His fingers slid through my juices.
‘Take a deep breath,’ he said. ‘Remember how good this felt last night.’
I willed myself to relax. His hand left my sex to pull one cheek from his target. An unaccustomed draught cooled my flesh before his cock-head probed me, slick and hot. I arched my back and it pressed inside. His sudden exhalation burned my neck, but he didn’t speak, just grasped my hip and pushed again.
‘Halfway there,’ he said and I thought, my God, half is plenty. The pressure was incredible – not painful exactly, but alarming. Was he really going to fit?
He heaved once more, grunting this time, and this time my body engulfed his root. I felt his balls press up against my cheeks, felt the prickle of his thatch. Inside, my body twitched and flamed. I thought my bottom had grown a second heart, the pounding there was so intense. A moan rose in my throat. If he moved, I’d come.
‘Good?’ He chuckled as if he knew exactly what was happening to me. ‘Feel like begging yet?’
I almost said ‘no’ but I remembered how few minutes remained. Should I beg? I suspected he could hold out longer than I could. If I begged now, he might get me off a few times. I knew my day would be miserable if he didn’t.
‘Please beg, Kate.’ His hips shimmied with urgency, bringing me closer to the edge.
I bit my lip and tasted blood. ‘How should I say it?’
‘“Please” is good enough. Just make it quick. I’m dying back here.’
‘Please, then, Sean. Please fuck me in the ass.’
The hand that held mine tightened. The other found my pussy again. He kneaded the soft, wet flesh as he slowly dragged back out of me. Halfway out, he pushed, using his grip on my mound to anchor his return. My untried state prevented him from going far. His chest rumbled. I sensed his impatience with my tightness, but also that he loved it. He throbbed inside me, pulses of fire that vibrated through the barrier between my anus and sheath. If Sean and Joe both filled me, would they feel the passage of each other’s shaft? I came at the thought, a long ripple that oscillated like liquid gold between back and front.
‘That’s it. Give it up,’ Sean said as the climax eased me. He began short-stroking in quick, eager drives. ‘Ah, you’re smooth as silk. I wish I had all day for this.’
I shuddered again, this orgasm a brief stab of pleasure, there and then gone. His thrusts lengthened. He groaned and said: ‘God, this is good.’ Another climax broke at his praise, his deeper strokes touching it off further inside me, making it hotter. As soon as that one faded, the hunger built again. My pussy clenched, desperate for something to hold. I fumbled for his hand and urged two fingers inside my dripping sheath.
‘Oh, man.’ His fingers stroked me inside, their movements agitated. ‘Oh, man, I’m a goner. Spread your legs wider. I gotta get – I’m gonna shoot. Oh, yeah, babe, that’s it. That’s it.’
His groin slammed my cheeks as if someone had kicked him from behind. His prick stiffened even more. I knew I had seconds to finish – milliseconds. I mashed the heel of his palm over my bud and gyrated hard. My climax burst in a shower of hot, red darts. My body tightened, round his fingers, round his prick …
‘Oh, sh–’ he hissed as his hips began to jerk. He shook for a good while, a marathon orgasm.
Afterwards, he held me longer than he had to, longer than I understood. I rubbed the side of my head against his face, trying to give him whatever it was he needed. His cock softened, slipping from me.
‘Kate,’ he whispered. ‘Pretty Kate.’
He bit my neck before he let go. Leaving his mark, I suppose. Limbs shaking, I pulled up my trousers and sagged back against the bookshelf. Sean dropped down beside me. He took one look at me and stripped off his T-shirt.
‘Here, wipe your face. There’s got to be a dry spot somewhere.’
‘Good thing I don’t wear make-up.’
‘You don’t need it,’ he said.
The unexpected compliment inspired a silence. I wiped my face and returned his sweaty shirt, which he dazedly pulled back on. If I looked anything like he did, we could have passed for train wreck victims – not only for our dishevelment, but for the expression on our faces. We’d surprised the hell out of each other.
‘I didn’t expect this to happen,’ I said.
He scrubbed his hair back from his face, making his biceps pop in unison. ‘Me neither.’ He looked at his watch and grimaced at the time. ‘I’d better leave. Your employees will wonder what’s going on.’
‘Sean.’ I paused to measure my words. ‘We should go somewhere and talk. We … we kind of jumped into this – last night, too. I want to make sure no one gets hurt.’
He rubbed his palms down the front of his jeans. ‘I know. I didn’t expect it to be so –’
‘Intense?’
He nodded, then looked away. ‘There are some things you need to know about me and Joe, things you might not understand.’
I had no doubt of that. By mutual accord, we struggled to our feet and shook out our wrinkles.
Marianne walked in the street door just as we walked out. Her cool grey eyes took in our rosy cheeks and rumpled clothes, and branded me a liar. I’d pay later, I knew, but at the moment I didn’t care.
‘Two,’ I said and held up a victory sign, our private code for a long lunch.
‘Looks like you had two already,’ she called after us from the door. That’s how I knew she was angry.
We walked to a shabby, basement-level restaurant in Little Italy. White fairy lights festooned the age-browned murals. Plastic flowers graced the tables. Early or not, the place was suspiciously empty. I didn’t understand why Sean had chosen it until the waiter came to take our order.
‘We’ll have two double scoops of gelato, one lemon and –’ Sean squinted at me as though reading my aura ‘– one raspberry.’
For a young man, he was mighty dictatorial. Unfortunately, raspberry was my favourite, so I couldn’t countermand him.
The rich, fruity treat made a perfect post-coital snack. We traded bites from each other’s dishes like an old married couple. The analogy summoned a shiver of foreboding. I knew I shouldn’t be getting so comfortable.
‘I don’t know where to start,’ he said.
‘Why don’t you tell me how you and Joe met?’
His smile said the memory was sweet. ‘We had a class together last year – Film Appreciation. Joe didn’t know me from Adam but I noticed him straight away: that blue-black hair, those eyes, that skin. I wanted to lap him up the minute I saw him, but he was off in his own little world. I couldn’t tell with him, either. Was he gay, straight, or somewhere in between? All I knew was he was sexy, as if God turned up the voltage when he made Joe.’
I tucked another sugar-tart spoonful into my mouth and let it melt. Sean rubbed his jaw. His faint stubble was a shimmer of gold beneath his skin. ‘That day, the professor was screening Blue Velvet. You know, the one with Kyle MacLachlan and Isabella Rosellini?’
‘I’ve seen it.’
‘Then you know it’s pretty hot. We had a break between reels, so I went to the men’s to take a leak. Everyone else stayed to suck up to the prof – or so I thought. I went in. I saw an empty cubicle. I had a half-hard now, ’cause of the film, and was thinking: do I want to jack off or would I rather wait? ’Cause if I do it now, I’ll have to hurry and waiting can be good unless you lose the edge altogether.
‘Then I heard it, a little noise in the next cubicle. I know this noise, of course. I’m a master of the silent public wank myself. I don’t know if you’ve heard it, but a fist makes a tiny shishing noise as it pumps a cock, especially if you’ve got a little sweat and juice to slick up the skin. Fucking your hand has a rhythm, too, like sex, only it’s one person’s rhythm instead of two. You can slow down or speed up whenever you like. It’s sexy as hell to listen to. Plus, you can learn a lot about a guy from the way he does himself.’
Sean reached across the table and took my hand as though he knew the precise instant my sex overflowed. His thumb circled the sensitive cup of my palm.
‘This guy has done this before, I thought. His strokes were real sure, real steady. He knew what he liked. He wasn’t in a hurry, but he wasn’t dilly-dallying, either. And he was breathing through his mouth so he wouldn’t make much noise.
‘By then, my half-hard was whole hard and then some. I started to take it out, thinking I’d give this guy some silent accompaniment and then I thought: Sean, babe, why not introduce yourself? Maybe you’ll meet someone you like. At the very least, you’ll get a good laugh. So, as quietly as I could, I climbed on the seat and peeked over the wall. Imagine my surprise when I saw it was him, sexy old whisky eyes. He looked up, turned beet-red, then burst out laughing.
‘“Hello there,” I said, as suave as you can get when you’re standing on a toilet. “Like some help with that?” He thought about it a minute – the longest minute of my life – then says, “Sure. Come on over.” Well, I didn’t need more encouragement than that. I nipped inside and knelt up facing him on the throne. He still had his dick in his hand. He was still hard. In fact, he was harder than he was a minute ago. “What now?” he asked. My heart just about stopped. “You’ve never done it with a guy?” He said he’d thought about it lots of times. What about girls? I needed to know. “Once,” he said and he made this face, as if it wasn’t worth mentioning.
‘I could read his whole sexual history in that one word. Good kid, good girlfriend. Probably met at church. His hormones raged. Hers didn’t. She gave it a try – ’cause she loves him – but neither of them knew more than Peg A fits Slot B. Naturally, the whole messy business ended in disaster. Nobody had fun. Afterwards, they couldn’t look each other in the eye. They broke up. Good kid started wondering if something was wrong with him. He’d been daydreaming about guys lately. Maybe he was gay.’
Sighing, Sean lifted my hand and kissed it. He didn’t seem to notice my palm was sweating. ‘Finding Joe was like a sugar addict getting his own sweet shop. Horniest guy I’d ever met and a virtual cherry. Never had a decent orgasm he hadn’t given himself. I felt like whatsit, the real My Fair Lady guy.’
‘Pygmalion?’
‘That’s the one.’ He shook his head and clasped my hand to his chest. ‘I decided to go down on him. I knew he’d never had anyone do that and I knew he’d love it. I think I sucked him for ten seconds before he flashed.’
‘“Flashed?”’ I asked, my voice husky. Despite the fact that homosexuals are one of my kinks, the terminology was new to me.
The corners of Sean’s mouth twitched. He resumed his sensuous circling of my palm. ‘Take your shoe off and slide your foot over here. Then I might tell you.’
I did as he asked. He trapped my instep against his bulge by pressing his thighs together. He was big already, but he grew bigger when I curled my toes.
‘Bad girl,’ he said, but he didn’t tell me to stop. Instead, he continued his story. ‘“Flash” means to give yourself away as liking men too much. Joe flashed because he came almost as soon as I touched him – too fast for me. I wanted to drag things out. Luckily, the whole thing excited him so much he didn’t even go soft before he stiffened up again. “More?” I asked. I think he said something like, “Gee, would you?” – as if I wasn’t delighted to do it. After that round, he remembered me. Some guys don’t, you know. Some guys think as long as they don’t do anything back, they can’t be gay, as though being inconsiderate makes you straight. Not Joe, though.
‘Would I like him to return the favour? he asked. Would I ever – only I wasn’t about to trust ol’ Willy to a neophyte. “Why don’t you see if you like the rear door?” I say. Lord, he was so afraid he’d hurt me, I was laughing by the time he finally got it in. Then he put his hand on my cock, in that gentle way he has, like my dick was something precious. I melted then and there. I vowed I’d keep him, by hook or by crook.’ He screwed up his face at this admission.
‘He really likes you,’ I said, reading his embarrassment. ‘He wouldn’t stay with you if he didn’t want to.’
‘Maybe not.’ Sean released my hand and clinked his spoon through the melted yellow soup in his gelato dish. ‘Thing is, the first time I saw him ogle a girl, I knew I was keeping him from half his nature. He wanted to try again. I could see it in his face.’
‘I’m sure he wanted to try again because you restored his confidence.’
‘But I let him know, in a hundred ways, that I’d be upset if he did try.’
‘What of it? Who wants their lover to sleep around? You would have been upset. Joe chose not to upset you because he cares about you. None of that seems wrong to me. What I want to know is what changed your mind? Why did you make an exception for me?’
‘Honestly?’
‘Of course, honestly.’
‘At first, it was just because I knew I couldn’t stop it. He had it bad for you from the start. I mean, his appetite was always big, but since we moved in with you I’d take him three, four times a day and still hear him beating off before he went to bed. Every time you stopped to chat, to listen to that damn album or whatever, he’d be a maniac afterwards. He tried to hide what was making him so horny, but I knew. He started mumbling your name in his sleep. Once he even called out “Kate” when we were having sex.’
‘I’m sorry, Sean. That must have hurt.’
He waved my concern away. ‘Not so much. By then I was starting to get off on it. He wanted you so bad, and thought he’d never have you. I loved watching him sweat.’ He stuck his spoon in his mouth and pulled it out upside down. ‘Just like you do. Anyway, I knew you had the hots for him, even if he didn’t. I started to think: what if I set it up for him? What if I make myself part of it? I’ve been with girls before and with some of them, it was good. And you remind me of him. You’ve got that glow like something’s simmering inside. It isn’t obvious, but someone with my radar can pick up on it. You like sex as much as Joe does.’
I raised my eyebrows at that. ‘I’ve never had it four or five times a day.’
‘Haven’t you?’ He leant forward, his forearms flush with the Formica tabletop. ‘Not even doing it for yourself?’
That brought the colour to my face. I had, of course – not every day, but plenty of days. My ex, a two-fer at the most, had never wrung it all out of me.
‘If you haven’t, you could,’ he said in his know-everything way. ‘Between Joe and me, you could certainly give it a try.’
My heart played Fred Astaire for a couple of beats. Sean was offering me my fantasy on a platter – except he wasn’t a fantasy. He was a real person with real feelings. I might promise to keep things light, but one of us was bound to end up hurt. Maybe all of us would. Life had taught me that lesson to the full.
I shifted on the seat, conscious of the heat between my legs. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Would I kick myself worse if I grabbed it, or if I let it go? Coward that I was, I threw the decision back to Sean. ‘Is that what you really want? To start up a threesome?’
‘You bet,’ he said, without a moment’s hesitation. ‘I can’t hold on to Joe forever. Might as well go out with a bang.’