One Single Night

Susannah J. Herbert

Two days until the wedding! I was one of the last of my friends, male or female, to get married, and I was still incredulous that it was happening. That David wanted a chuppah had surprised me almost as much as the proposal that came after we’d been together for over seven years. I had been happy enough as we were, but we talked, and the next thing I knew we were registered for stemware.

It was Friday night. David, newfound piety notwith-standing, was about to spend his final Erev Shabbat as a single man at that last of all socially accepted bacchanals: his bachelor party.

I tried to be nonchalant about it, despite the fact that David’s best friend, Phillip, was coordinating the evening, under the sort of security usually reserved for the joint chiefs of staff.

Let’s be honest: as I watched David dress to go out, I felt threatened. Hard to admit, but true. Phillip was a great guy and I knew he liked me, but his libido ran somewhere between those of the Marquis de Sade and Howard Stern. I asked David what men did at “those things.” Whores, strippers, what? This wasn’t mere jealously; let’s not forget it’s the end of the millennium and sex isn’t always safe.

He laughed and told me not to worry. (Did this mean he’d be chaste, or wear condoms when fucking the harem-for-hire?)

I teasingly reminded him it was Shabbat, the holiest of nights. He repeated what the rabbi had told us: it was a mitzuah to make love on the sabbath. We giggled, two Jews who went to shul once a year on the High Holy Days and saw nothing wrong with Christmas carols or crispy bacon. Eager to perform a mitzvah on this sacred occasion, I kissed my lover and ran my hand along his crotch. His familiar hard-on grew instantly in my hand. I dropped to my knees, unzipped his black cords, and sucked him. For once, foreplay held no interest for me. I wanted him hard and I wanted him now.

I grabbed his round, soft ass and took his cock into my throat. Backed against the bedroom wall, he caressed my hair and thrust into my mouth. He grabbed at my sweater so he could suck my breast while simultaneously working to pull off my pants. Had it not been so hot, his awkward enthusiasm would have been humorous. Usually a playful lover, today his actions were anything but carefree. He kissed me hotly, then in one fluid motion turned and dipped his tongue into my cunt.

We were on the floor, hungrily licking and sucking at each other’s centers. Every move was deliberate, wild. He kissed my clit and penetrated my core with one, two, three fingers. I knew the spots that drove him wild, and I visited them with my tongue, my knuckle, the flat of my hand. As my cunt began to shake, contracting around his fingers, I turned to his ass and flicked my tongue across the dank, puckered darkness. He cried out and mirrored my actions with his tongue in my cunt. I moved my lips to his cock, using my wet fingers to tickle his balls and bum. With a primal moan, he bucked and exploded. I swallowed the warm cream and slowed my rhythm, reveling in each wild spasm of his body. I savored his smooth, slippery head, sucking it softly, knowing that any touch from me would elicit a sharp moan and an intense physical contraction. I loved him when he came. I loved the intensity of his response. He crawled around to collapse in my arms…just as we heard a pound-ing on the door.

Phillip.

David quickly changed while Phillip enigmatically pressed my emotional buttons about the evening ahead.

“You can’t mind one last night. Then he’s yours for life.”

“This ritual means that much to you?”

“It’s a guy thing. C’mon! You know he loves you. And nothing he does tonight will change that. Even if he does ‘nothing’ three or four times.”

David appeared and called his best friend a “truly diplomatic asshole.” Phillip laughed proudly, thirty-five-going-on-fifteen.

David kissed me and said, “I’m sure all I’ll do is get shit-faced. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” I said.

“I’d worry,” Phillip chimed in.

“Fuck off,” David told him as they walked out the door, laughing all the way to Phil’s car.

Having organized the wedding with all the attention of Eisenhower planning the Invasion of Normandy, I had nothing left to do. Relatives would arrive tomorrow. Tonight, I had planned on a self-facial and an evening of laser disks. Just as I was deciding between Godfather Part 2 and The Trouble with Angels, Judith called.

“You’ve got ten minutes to get ready. We’re going out.”

“Where?”

“Not important. Get dressed. Anything casual and a push-up bra!”

Judith made me laugh. And curious. She was the boldest person I knew, a worthy namesake of the decapitating amazon of biblical lore. With no money, on a whim she would hop a jet to Paris or Paraguay, from where she’d send vivid postcards scribbled with exotic adventures. Each country held at least one lover, male or female, often both. I was as intrigued by her stories as she was by my stability.

Twenty minutes later (I had to do my face), I was in her cherry-red Miata, top down in the night air. All around, our senses were soothed by the scent of eucalyptus and night-blooming jasmine.

“Okay, Judi. What’s this about?”

“Do you trust me?”

“You’ve never given me reason not to. Other than the time you dyed my hair purple before the Dexy’s Midnight Runners concert. But I’ve forgiven you for that.”

Judith smiled. “I mean it. You know I’d never hurt you. But you have to promise you’ll go with what happens. I want you to forget about the wedding, about the damned bachelor party, about being the most responsible person on the planet. Just this once.”

“What are we going to do? Make Carlo answer for Santino?” I was joking, to cover a rising fear that was kind of thrilling. Judith read me perfectly. She handed me a brilliantly printed red, blue, and gold Hermes silk scarf. “If you’re up for this, put it on.’

I touched its sensual softness. “It’s beautiful,” I murmured, wrapping it around my collar.

“Uh-uh,” Judith frowned. “This isn’t decoration. Around your eyes, please. You’re not allowed to see a thing tonight.”

I could have argued. Or questioned. Instead, I let her tie the fragrant silk around me, a blinding caress. She’d been my best friend since Hebrew school. How strange could things get?

Her route was circuitous enough to throw me off track. Somewhere on Mullholland I lost all sense of direction. As she drove, we talked about marriage, commitment, monogamy.

‘How do you do it?” she asked. “I’m never faithful.”

“When I’m in love, I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“How hurt would you be if David’s friends bought him sex tonight? Honestly.” There was an urgency in her voice.

“Hard to say. One part of me would be devastated. Another part would know it didn’t mean anything. Phillip says anything men do at bachelor parties doesn’t count. I don’t know.”

“How do you think he’d react if you were the one partying? “

“Me?” I laughed. “Right!”

“As possessive as men are, I bet there’s a part of him that would love the idea of you going wild.”

I was silent. She continued, “I’m talking one night out of your entire life. One single night. I know you’re hot. After seven years, David still can’t keep his hands off you. You’re lucky. You two have love and respect. I wish you the best marriage ever—but I still think you deserve one moment devoted to your absolute pleasure.”

My head was swimming. The car stopped. I heard music in the distance. Were we at a club? A private home? “Judith, what are we doing?” I asked.

She carefully led me out of the car and took my hand. The night air tasted sweet. My nipples strained against my blouse, less from the breeze than from a shiver of anticipation.

“I’m taking you inside. Any time you want to leave, say, ‘Judith, stop,’ and I’ll take you home. This is a gift. Accept it.”

I slowly nodded, preparing myself for whatever was waiting beyond the door.

She led me into a room scented of roses and lavender candles. I heard no voices but knew we weren’t alone. She then kissed my cheek and placed a champagne flute in my hand. “I’m not out to get you drunk. This is for celebration. It’s your favorite: Cristal.”

I raised the delicate glass to the room I couldn’t see and drank. The intoxicating liquid felt icy and good. I drank most of it, then held out the goblet to…who? It was taken by someone with a masculine scent. He moved closer, and I felt strong hands unbutton my blouse. There were soft murmurs of approval. How many were there? Men? Women? Friends? Strangers? A knot of fear leaped from my stomach to my throat. I wanted to cry, “Judith, stop!” I opened my mouth to speak…but said nothing.

I went with it.

His hands were bigger than David’s, the feeling altogether new. The knot in my throat softened, began to melt, grow warm. He stepped away. I crossed my arms over my exposed breasts and the hands were back, covered in a warm oil scented of marigold and chamomile. His powerful touch worked its way down my neck, along my shoulders, down my arms. Tension melted. I became so relaxed, the sensation was so intense, that my legs grew wobbly. A second hand, softer, female, steadied me. My two protectors kept me upright. The man continued to rub his firm, oiled palms along my arms and breastbone, moving closer to my breasts, but not touching them. Mentally, I was still comparing him to David, but the scarf around my eyes, the forced anonymity, took me out of reality. This was a dream—it had to be.

My nipples, firm ripe berries, strained to be touched. Involuntarily, I pressed my upper body forward and whispered, “Please…”

The next move wasn’t his. Delicate female hands crept beneath my arms to caress my breasts from behind. Caring fingers pressed into my pliant, round flesh. I had had many a massage from a female body worker, but I had never felt a woman’s touch in this intimate, sensual way. It was fascinating. I thought of how David would often marvel at the softness of my skin, as I savored the sensation of her soft flesh upon mine. Its texture was so inviting, her lithe movements as deliberate as any man’s, but gentle.

She moved closer, her erect nipples pressing into my back as she worked her hands over and around my sensitive, highly charged breasts. The man wrapped his arms around my back and pressed my body to his. His throbbing cock pressed into my thigh. I gasped. The woman’s fingers pinched my nipple into a tiny pebble as her tongue tickled the back of my neck. Hot, moist breath bathed the folds of my ear. My head fell backward and I moaned.

My mouth open, I felt another hand—a third person’s, a man’s—run a fat, cold grape along my lips. With my tongue, I popped it into my mouth, taking his finger in as well. I sucked him, then pulled away to bite into the chubby ripe fruit.

A fourth person—a woman? by now my senses were too overloaded for me to think clearly—was removing my pants and running her soft cheek—yes it was a woman—down my legs. She used her lips and teeth to kiss and nip my flesh as she traveled. I was so hot, so wet, I didn’t know where to turn or who to touch—which perhaps was the point.

Four sets of hands, four pairs of lips, four centers of gravity were too much for me. My legs turned to jelly and I fell to the floor. My—what were they? who were they?—my companions cradled me and put me down on some sort of cushiony chaise lounge. I was gasping, panting, reaching my arms out to one, to all, wanting more, much more, desiring sensation, needing to know where it would go, how far I could take it, how much I could feel. Any sense of guilt was absent. If I had any regret, it was that David wasn’t there to share it with me, to see me like this, to enjoy for himself this sort of unworldly attention.

My arms wrapped around yet another body, this one familiar as her cologne, the aptly named Chaos. It was Judith whose tender naked flesh touched mine, whose lips pressed against my mouth, whose hungry tongue traveled over my lips and past my teeth, who gave me my first sweet hot woman kiss, my first kiss in ages from anyone other than David. My toe was being sucked, my other foot kneaded, a soft mouth was locked on my left breast, and inquisitive fingers were playing in and around my pubic hair. It was thrilling, immeasurably erotic. And yet my energy went into this kiss, this wild, soft, sucking fuck of an embrace.

“I’m so happy,” she whispered. “Accept the pleasure and know that I love you, my friend, and always will.”

No one else kissed my lips that night. No cock entered me. I was massaged, tickled, fingered, squeezed, and bathed in champagne that was licked from every inch of my body; I came more times than I can possibly recall. I remember the electric sparks ignited when one of the women rubbed her nipples against mine. I can still feel the explosive orgasm brought about when the first man double-fingered me, one digit dipped within my steamy lower lips, another just penetrating my ass. I will never forget the sensation of those juicy grapes being slowly, teasingly inserted in my dripping cunt, then fished out by an insistent, insatiable female tongue. I remember every quiver, every touch, every moan and shake. And I remember Judith’s kiss.

Later, Judith drove me home. Dawn was breaking. In my driveway, she removed the blindfold.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked with concern. “Don’t he.”

I couldn’t speak. I looked into her eyes and nodded. A look of relief crossed her face.

“Get some sleep. You’re getting married in about thirty-six hours. ‘Here comes the bride’ and all that.”

We both caught the inadvertent pun and smiled. “Thank you,” I said and got out of the car. She blew me a kiss and drove off.

I entered the house. David was asleep. I crept into bed and inched as far to the edge as possible. He awoke, turned over, and cradled me in his arms.

“How was your night?” he asked groggily.

I wanted to tell him but didn’t have the words. As I hemmed and hawed, he broke in.

“Judith told me her idea last week.”

“You knew? And didn’t say anything?”

“Why? To give you ‘permission’? This wasn’t my decision to make; it was yours. I don’t want to be with anyone else after tomorrow, and I hope you feel the same way.” I nodded. “I love that you had an adventure. Someday I hope you’ll tell me everything.”

I relaxed into his arms. “Tell me about the bachelor party.”

“I will. Some other time.”

We embraced, yawned, and fell asleep as the sun rose on our last unmarried sabbath.