by Jeff Strand
Ralph tried to speak, but his mouth had gone completely dry.
Skip placed the envelope of money back on the table and slid it over to him. "Here. Obviously I don't deserve this."
Ralph took the envelope, folded it in half, and silently placed it back in his pocket.
"Just so you know," said Skip, "I don't think she did anything with us that she doesn't do with you. I mean, yeah, there were two guys, so there were more options, but what I mean is that she didn't let us take her in the butt or anything."
Ralph remained silent.
"Are you mad?" Skip asked.
"Yes."
"What are you going to do?"
"I haven't decided."
"Is it something scary?"
"It might be."
23
"I have a surprise for you," said Draven.
I put my hand over my full red lips to stifle the giggle. "For me? But what have I done to deserve such a thing?"
"Everything you do deserves a reward. Every time you blink I want to shower you with golden jewel-encrusted treasure. Treasure without jagged edges or points, of course. Do you remember what I said when your alluring, sensuous body entered this room but minutes ago?"
I nodded, for I did indeed remember. It had been only minutes ago. "You said not to open the closet door."
"That is exactly what I said. But now you may do so, if you wish."
"And what if I do not wish?"
"Then I will command it."
I sucked in a sharp intake of breath. How I loved it when Draven commanded me! His commands had worked out well for me in the past. Oh, the things he'd commanded me to do!
"Are you commanding it now?" I asked, blushing.
"I am."
I walked over to the closet and opened the door. Then I gasped. One gasp was not enough, so I gasped again. Standing before me stood Tristan, wearing absolutely nothing at all. His muscles rippled in the candlelight as he smiled at me.
"What...what is this all about?" I asked.
Tristan stepped forward. "I think you know."
Draven stepped up behind me. "We both wish to ravish you at once."
My eyes widened into large spheres. "But that would be improper!"
"Improper or not, it's what we want," said Tristan. "We both wish to kiss you. We both wish to undress you. We both wish to make love to you."
"Then I shall let you!" I declared. "I shall let you!"
Julie had never felt so creatively energized. Her fingers hadn't stopped moving on the keyboard since she'd sat down at her desk. She really did need to make the threesome with Kirk and Skip a one-time indiscretion, but she had to admit that it had done wonders for her productivity.
She continued typing. This was not meant to be autobiographical, so the threesome with Draven and Tristan did not follow the same sequence of events as the threesome with Kirk and Skip. She also added a scene where they used their fingers on her, because readers enjoyed reading about that sort of thing, and also a lot of spanking.
I'd wondered why Draven's palms were so calloused, but with each clap against my bare bottom, the answer became more clear. As he thrust into me, over and over, harder and harder, and spanked me, showing no mercy, I was forced to spit Tristan's manhood out of my mouth to speak.
"Fuck me!" I shouted. "Oh, fuck me, Draven! Don't stop fucking me! Stop fucking me at your own peril! Spank me harder while you're fucking me! Oh! Oh! Oh! I'm so impressed by your skills at fucking me! I hope Tristan will be equally talented! Oh! Do fuck me! Do fuck me more!"
Maybe that was a little much. Julie backspaced over the last request to fuck her.
She continued typing, losing track of time. Draven and Tristan had an additional surprise for the innocent young heroine, and she gasped and giggled as they blindfolded her and tied her to the bed.
"What will you do with me now that I'm helpless and at your mercy?" I asked, even though I knew quite well what they intended to do with me.
"Just listen," said Draven.
I listened, but heard nothing unexpected, except perhaps for my heart beating more rapidly than customary.
"What do you hear?" asked Tristan.
"What am I supposed to hear?"
"Shhhhh. Listen."
"I hear only your breathing."
"Whose breathing?"
"Your breathing. And Draven's breathing."
"Is that all?"
I listened carefully. I heard one set of lungs breathing, and a second set of lungs breathing, and...was it possible?
"Are there three of you in the room with me?" I asked, unable to contain the fearful joy in my voice.
"There are indeed," said Quill.
Julie wondered if it was too slutty for her heroine to do three guys at once. She suspected that if Kirk and Skip had said, "Guess what?" she would have politely excused herself from the apartment, but this novel wasn't meant to be realistic. It was fantasy. Though Julie didn't want to go full-on gang-bang, her heroine should totally do three guys at once.
She resumed typing, hoping this energy and creativity would never fade.
24
This is bad, thought Skip as Ralph walked out of the restaurant.
This was super bad. Ralph was in no state of mind to be around other people, especially Kirk or Julie. Skip couldn't quite describe the look in Ralph's eyes, but "homicidally insane" had been his first impression.
What should he do? Skip didn't know Kirk or Julie's phone number. He had no way to warn them that Ralph could be in full psychopath mode. If only Skip hadn't blabbed about both of them having sex with Julie. That had been a mistake.
"What do I do?" he asked himself out loud. He wasn't the kind of guy who typically talked to himself like this, but considering the circumstances he decided he could cut himself some slack.
"About what?" asked an elderly woman at the next table.
"About..." Skip stopped himself before he could give her a high-level summary of his problems. She didn't need to know. "Never mind. I'm going to follow him."
Skip pushed back his chair and stood up. You were supposed to clear your own table here but there wasn't time. He'd clear his table twice the next time. He hurried out of the restaurant and frantically looked around for Ralph.
There was no sign of him. Why hadn't Skip immediately followed the potential maniac, instead of sitting at the table pondering what he should do? The obvious answer was: follow him. The decision making process should've been extremely brief. This kind of foolishness was why nice people like Julie and Kirk sometimes ended up dead.
Which way had he gone? Left? Right? It was one of the two, unless he'd walked straight into the busy street to end his life, but it was definitely a bloodthirsty look that Skip had seen in his eyes and not a suicidal one, so he'd surely gone left or right. If he was headed back to kill Kirk, he would've gone left, unless he used the parking garage to the right, but Skip didn't know if he was more likely to try to kill Julie or Kirk first.
There he was! To the left! Skip ran after him, trying not to collide with anybody on the busy sidewalk, especially not that guy holding the large stack of fragile looking—
Skip did not collide with the guy holding the large stack of fragile looking paper mâché butterflies. He continued to not collide with anybody, darting and weaving and doing a superb job of staying out of everybody's personal space. Finally he caught up to the person who looked exactly like Ralph from the back and slammed his hand on his shoulder. The man angrily turned around.
"What?" asked Ralph, angrily.
"I need to know what you're going to do."
"I haven't decided yet."
"Have you at least decided how bad it's going to be?"
"No."
"Do you at least have a basic gist?" Skip asked.
"No."
"I kind of need to get a ballpark idea of what's going through your mind right now. I can't have you going on a killing spree."
"There are only three people I want to k
ill."
Skip did a quick mental tally. He wanted to verify that he was among the three, but decided that it was a no-brainer and didn't ask.
"Three would count as a spree," said Skip.
"I don't think so."
"We decided that three counts as an orgy, so I'd think that three would also count as a killing spree." It took a few seconds of Ralph glaring at him for Skip to realize that this wasn't information he should have shared. Sometimes he had to admit that he just wasn't very good at interacting with people.
Ralph turned and walked away. Skip rushed after him.
"I can't let you go."
"It's not your decision," said Ralph.
"I'll call the police."
"I'll tell them you accepted payment to kill somebody."
"They won't believe you."
"Why wouldn't they?"
"Because the target and I banged your wife together." Skip felt he could've phrased that in a more compassionate manner. He wondered if he was enraging Ralph even more. Maybe he should just let the guy do whatever he was planning to do and stop trying to fix this.
"So?"
"So...that's weird, right? If I were a cop, and I was investigating an accusation that somebody had taken money to commit a murder, and I found out that he and his intended victim had a threesome instead, I wouldn't believe the accusation. You have to admit that it stretches suspension of disbelief pretty hard."
"What do you want from me?" asked Ralph.
"I want you not to seek vengeance."
"Don't you think I deserve to make things right?"
"You do," Skip admitted. "You totally do. If I were in your position, I'd be hopping mad. My face would be bright red and you'd see a throbbing vein in my forehead and I'd be grinding my teeth so loud you could hear it. Be that as it may, I can't let you kill anybody."
"I never said I was going to kill anybody."
"You said that there were three people you wanted to kill."
"That doesn't mean I was going to kill them."
"I'm confused."
"I never said I was going to act on my impulses," said Ralph. "I said I didn't know what I was going to do."
"Okay, but that leaves the door open to murder."
"I love my wife. I would never hurt her. In a way, this is my fault."
"Now you're talking," said Skip. "What about Kirk?"
"I would hurt Kirk."
"Badly?"
"I might break his dick and all ten of his fingers."
"Right. Okay. Yes, I can see why you went in that direction. Unfortunately, I don't think I can allow that. It was uncomfortable enough for him when we wrapped up his fingers and penis with them not broken."
"Maybe I'll just break his dick, then."
"The thing is, we'd made up the whole part about terror making blood flow to his groin. You'd have to get him sexually aroused to get him hard enough to break his dick, and that would take you into some weird territory that I'm not sure you're ready to handle. And, ultimately, though he's made mistakes in his life, I think we all have made mistakes at one time or another, and I can't let you do that to him."
"Then I'll tie his dick into a knot."
"You can't actually do that. This isn't a cartoon."
"What do you want from me?" asked Ralph.
"I guess I'd like your assurance that you aren't going to hunt him down."
"So I should just let this slide?"
Skip shook his head. "No, no, no, no, no, nobody is saying that you should ignore being a cuckold. But maybe instead of physical violence you could resolve this with a verbal thrashing."
"A verbal thrashing, huh?"
"You can't overestimate the value of a vicious insult. You've got time to prepare. They don't even have to be original. Come up with nine or ten really brutal ones, give him a call, and release the Kraken. Make him feel like an absolute douchebag. He'll never be an infidel again."
"An infidel is not somebody who commits infidelity."
"It's not?"
"No."
"Hmmm," said Skip. "I'm not sure why the people who invented the English language made things so difficult for themselves."
"And what should I do about you?"
"You can insult me, too. In fact, you can use the same insults. Let me have it. Make me squirm. Stomp my self-esteem into the ground. Nothing is off-limits."
"Do you honestly believe that after you and Kirk banged my wife, I'm going to feel better about the whole situation by saying unkind things about you?"
"Well, you'd be saying them right to my face."
"Go fuck yourself, Skip."
"Was that an insult, or was that your reaction to my idea about the insults?"
"The second one."
"I can't let you leave like this."
"Leave like how?"
"Murderous."
"Fine," said Ralph. "I won't go after Kirk."
"Really?"
"Really."
"And you won't go after Julie?"
"I already said I wouldn't."
"And you won't, y'know, inflict harm upon yourself? No cutting?"
"No cutting."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to figure out a way to get him fired from his job."
"Oh." Skip thought about that. "Yeah, that seems reasonable. What are you going to do to me?"
"Nothing. He fucked her twice and you only fucked her once, so I'll let it go."
"I guess you're counting it by visits and not the number of times we actually had sex," said Skip, who knew after a few words that it was not the right thing to say, but who couldn't stop himself from finishing the sentence.
"Right."
"How can I be sure you're telling the truth?"
"Do you have a polygraph test handy?"
"You know I don't."
"Then you'll have to trust me."
Trusting Ralph didn't seem like a very smart thing to do. But what other choice did Skip have? He couldn't handcuff himself to Ralph to keep tabs on him for the rest of his life. At some point, he simply had to trust that the man, as much as he was hurting inside, would do the right thing.
"All right," said Skip. "I'll trust you."
"Thanks. Seeya."
"Seeya."
Ralph left. Skip stood on the sidewalk for a moment, feeling good about the way he'd believed in the fundamental goodness of human nature.
By the time he decided that he'd definitely been lied to, Ralph was long gone.
25
Kirk stood in the shower, feeling fantastic.
It would be a pain to wrap up his hands whenever he left the apartment for a while, but it was a small price to pay. He could have never imagined that a day where he was almost strangled to death would end up being one of the best days of his life. Every thrust, every moan, every trickle of bodily fluid was permanently etched into his memory.
He didn't really wish they'd captured it on video, but he kind of wished they had.
Everything seemed better now. The bar of soap was more fragrant. The shampoo was bubblier. He didn't think the water had ever been such a perfect temperature. If animated birds had flown into his bathroom and started whistling a catchy tune, he wouldn't have thought anything was abnormal about it. Life was magical.
When he got out of the shower, he thought, fuck it, he'd put on a bathrobe. He'd received a bathrobe as a birthday present many years ago and never wore it. But it seemed like the right time to lounge around his apartment in a bathrobe, sipping coffee, even though it was early evening.
Bathrobe-clad, he sat on the couch and turned on the television.
The doorbell rang.
Crap.
He got up and looked through the peephole. It was Myra.
Kirk let her in and gave her a kiss. "Hi," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"This is when I always come over."
Kirk glanced at a wristwatch that he wasn't wearing, then glanced at the wall for a calendar that wasn't
there, then decided to take her at her word. "Sorry," he said. "I got my times and days mixed up."
"Should I leave?"
"Of course not." Kirk shut the door. "I'm always glad you're here."
"Nice bathrobe."
"Thank you."
Myra began to unbutton her blouse. "How've you been?"
"Good, good." Kirk was still completely spent, but he didn't want to arouse suspicion so he was going to have to man up and perform. Worst-case scenario, his tongue and fingers still worked. She wouldn't complain.
"What did you decide about the creepy guy who wanted you to screw his wife?"
Kirk chuckled. "I didn't even bother to write him back. I assume he found somebody else."
"Well, that's good." Myra tossed her blouse to the floor.
Kirk had no idea if she believed him, or if she assumed that he was sticking to the vow to lie to her if he did it. She didn't seem to be suspicious, so she probably believed him. He wouldn't correct her.
Myra unfastened her bra and also tossed it to the floor. "Do you know what I'd love?"
"What's that?"
"A nice massage. With that lime coconut lotion you've got."
"That can be arranged."
"Should we move to the bedroom?"
Kirk hesitated. He hadn't yet changed the sheets, and they most definitely needed changing. "You know what, I was eating pizza in bed and I got crumbs and sauce on it. You finish taking off your clothes and I'll take care of it." He kept the linens in his bathroom closet, so he went in there, hoping that she'd resume undressing and not question him.
He got fresh sheets, went into his room, and pulled the old sheets off the bed. Then he gave the room a test whiff. Damn. There was definite aromatic evidence of what had happened in here. He needed air freshener.
When he walked back into the living room, Myra was just about to tug down her panties. "Nice tits," he said, hoping the lighthearted comment would distract her from him hurrying back and forth.
She smiled and covered them with her hands. "Nobody said you could peek."
Kirk went back into the bathroom, opened the cabinet underneath the sink, and took out the can of air freshener. He didn't really want her to notice the can, but since she already knew the length and girth of his penis he couldn't get away with shoving it into his pants. Instead, he just left the bathroom and hoped she wouldn't say anything.