Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance

by Harley, Karen

  "Have you been running?" Jasmine asked Matt, her teeth chattering. He was leaning against the wall, seemingly oblivious to the way his hair and face were dripping. He lifted one eyebrow, shook his head, and held up a damp, bottle-shaped paper bag.

  Jasmine shivered visibly.

  "Why are you cold?" Matt asked her. "You're the only one with an umbrella."

  "Our furnace has been acting up," Sara inserted when Jasmine shrugged. "It's been on and off. Last night the apartment chilled off a lot."

  "You'll warm up at my place, Jasmine," Harrison said solemnly. "Our furnace is working fine."

  There was dead silence.

  Sara swallowed. And there it was.

  Jasmine was going to Harrison's place tonight.

  Tonight the plan was to switch partners. Last week, Matt and Jasmine had retreated to Matt and Harrison's place to do the wild thing together as part of the great experiment they had all agreed to try on that drunken night just a week and a half ago. At least, Sara assumed they had done the wild thing as scheduled. Neither of them had talked about it to her. But that's what she and Harrison had done at her and Jasmine's place across the hall.

  And it had been wonderful. Unbelievable. Earth-shaking.

  And ended at midnight.

  But now everything was going to change again.

  She tried once more to inject some perkiness into the collective mood. "Boy, this is going to be interesting, isn't it?" Her effort was met by three disbelieving stares. She took a deep breath. "Look, you guys, I'm pretty weirded out, too. But hey, we got through last Friday. That—that wasn't too bad, was it? So now it's Friday again, and I'm sure we'll—"

  "Can the pep talk," Matt clipped. "Let's just get it over with."

  Sara heard a small noise from Jasmine. Without a word, her tall, slender roommate picked up her umbrella, walked over to Harrison and Matt's apartment door, swung it open, and went inside.

  With similar reticence, Harrison followed.

  Oh, God.

  Sara could not stop gazing at the shut door.

  It really sank in then. They were switching partners.

  Harrison was going to have sex with Jasmine tonight. He was going to do everything to her best female friend that last week, he had done to her. Possibly even more. Because he hadn't actually fucked Sara last Friday. They'd just done everything else, and even a week later, Sara's ears were still sizzling from the steam burns.

  She wanted to shoot herself.

  All week, she'd been going at a dazzling pace, riding on the high of last Friday. Trying to imagine Harrison and Jasmine having sex had made her buggy, so she'd put it out of her mind. Somehow she'd even talked herself into thinking that it might not even happen. Or be that bad. Or…

  She didn't believe it anymore.

  She glanced at Matt. He was doing the same thing as she was, staring at the door.

  "You okay?" she asked him.

  He didn't answer, just swung around and went into her apartment.

  After a moment's hesitation, she went in after him.

  Pencil was dozing by the fireplace but lightly drummed his tail on the carpet when she came in. She was relieved to see Matt settle on the sofa, legs propped up on the coffee table. It would have been really awkward if he'd gone straight to the bedroom, especially given what she had planned. But then he immediately started to peel the wet, torn bag from the bottle in his hand.

  She peered at the label. "Vodka?"

  "Yup." Efficient masculine fingers twisted off the cap and then he was leaning back and tilting the bottle to his lips.

  "Uh…Matt? Are you set on getting drunk or something?"

  He closed his eyes, and she imagined he must be feeling quite a burn from that swallow. "Yup."

  "Bad day?" she said with sympathy, heading to her bedroom. She took a small box out of a shopping bag and brought it back with her. She used her short nails to rip off the plastic film, removed the lid of the box, and set it and the open box on the coffee table right in front of him.

  Then she knelt on the floor on the other side of the coffee table and looked at him expectantly.

  Way to spark his curiosity, she thought with satisfaction. Matt leaned forward to scrutinize the box.

  "Okay, so listen," she said. "I want to do this. I really do want to do this whole Challenge thing. But I hope you won't take it the wrong way if I tell you that…well, dammit, Matt, you know you're a total hottie. Normally, I'd say there's nothing I'd like more than to —"

  "Just say it, Sara. You couldn't care less about having sex with me."

  "Well—yeah. I didn't plan to wimp out," she said defensively. "I really thought I'd be game to go through with it. But the more I thought about it, the more I was sure there had to be a better way than…"

  "Screwing each other?"

  "Right. And the thing is, I'd so totally do it if I thought you really wanted it. But you obviously don't. As irresistible as I am, you really don't have any interest in my bod."

  That managed to coax a small smile from him. Just a small one. But getting there.

  "I mean, we could do it. But what would be the point? I don't actually think we need to perform the act of sex to accomplish our goals."

  "Our goals?"

  "You know. To come out of this whole thing wiser about relationships."

  "Ah."

  "So I got this." She pointed to the box.

  "It's a game."

  "Yeah. One of those relationship games. You answer all these questions, bare your soul to the other players, and there you go. I figure this is as good a way as any for us to do the Challenge."

  "Mm. You are aware that games like this one are designed as foreplay?"

  "Nuh-uh," she said triumphantly. "The questions aren't all about sex. I looked. Some are really about relationships."

  "It's called Exposé. It's not for teenagers. It's for lovers."

  Something in the way he said that last word made her look at him curiously. The fact that Matt slept around like a dog made her assume that he didn't think of sex as particularly emotional.

  She picked up the stack of pink cards. "So? You wanna do it?"

  He tilted his head back and took another swig of the vodka, shutting his eyes again. "Whatever."

  Sara was almost giddy with relief. She hadn't realized how much she'd been dreading the idea of going to bed with Matt. It was funny—when she'd proposed the idea, she'd been absolutely serious about her willingness to sleep with both Harrison and Matt. But after last Friday, she'd been unexpectedly squeamish about the whole concept. Not just Matt, but anyone else, like that handsome older guy with the chamomile tea who'd come on to her just yesterday while he was waiting for his massage. And her squeamishness had nothing to do with the fact that she'd sworn off men.

  "Okay." She nibbled her lip, squinting to read the front card. "Well, the instructions are gobbledegook. I just want to know how to win!"

  "Let me see." Matt took the deck and skimmed the instructions. "Sorry, no winning in this game. There are two kinds of cards—questions and actions. First player selects two cards from the pile, second player chooses one blindly and does what the card says. If it's acceptable to first player, the turn is over. If not, second player plays the other card, too."

  Sara wrinkled her nose. "Actions? Some of the cards want you to do something?"

  "Yeah. That's the sex part, Sara. There are no winners to the game because it's supposed to end in mutual orgasm."

  Sara winced. "Right. Hmm. Maybe I should have gotten a different game." And saved this game for playing with Harrison next Friday…

  Matt was fanning the cards. "You want to just discard all the action cards?"

  "Yes, unless you want me to strip off my clothes one by one or smack your tush or do whatever else kinky thing they want us to do," she snorted.

  "I could only dream," he said automatically, already thumbing through the cards and tossing out all the green ones. Then he shuffled them and tossed them onto the
coffee table. "Pick two cards."

  "Is there really any point in picking two?" Sara asked. "Since we're getting rid of the action cards, why do we need to follow all the other rules?"

  His eyes were closed again. Sara had seen Matt drinking a few times, and it didn't seem to affect him. But it looked like he'd already swilled a significant amount of that bottle in a horrendously short time.

  She'd never seen him drunk. This night might get interesting.

  "None of the rules ever make sense," Matt said tiredly. "You play the game or you don't."

  "Well, I think we should just each pick a card and read it and let the other person answer the question."

  He waved an indifferent hand.

  Sara picked the first card. "Okay. Let's see. If you could be stranded on a desert island with just one person, who would it be?"

  Matt took another swig. "MacGyver."

  She giggled. "I think you're supposed to answer seriously."

  "But we're making up our own rules."

  She shook her head. "If we don't answer honestly, then we're not doing ourselves any favors. There is supposed to be a point to this, you know. Baring our souls, remember? So, desert island. Who would it be?"

  Pause. "A woman."

  She rolled her eyes. That was predictable. "Any particular woman?"

  "Definitely."

  "And that would be…?"

  "A good vacation."

  He was hopeless. At least he'd sort of answered seriously. "Your turn. Pick a card."

  He leaned forward, grabbing a card, then tucked the bottle of vodka between his abdomen and his now-folded-up legs. "What is the kinkiest thing you've ever done in bed?"

  Sara gaped. "Is that really what it says?"

  "Sure you want to play this game, Sara?"

  Rather than go to bed with you, when I only want Harrison? Yessir. "Yeah, I'm sure. Hum. Okay, I'm thinking."

  The kinkiest thing she'd ever done in bed was probably what she'd done last week, with Harrison. But there was no way she was going to share that. "I don't think I can tell you," she said honestly. "But the almost-kinkiest thing I've ever done was go to bed with this guy who wanted to wear my thong panties."

  Matt smiled.

  "I never understood why he wasn't interested in my bra. Just panties. He was kind of a darling." She reached for the deck. "What do you most dislike about sex?"

  As soon as she heard herself read the words, she felt her cheeks heat. He'd been right; this was not the kind of game you normally played with platonic friends. Which made it perfect for tonight. After all, they were supposed to be going beyond their comfort zone.

  When there was no reply, she looked up. Matt had his head tilted back, his eyes closed, and she got the impression he was far away. She wasn't sure he'd even heard the question.

  Eventually, though, he answered. "That it ends."

  While she considered responding, he was reaching for another card. "What would you most like to be doing right now?"

  Her instinctive answer was not acceptable. March into your apartment and drag Harrison out of there and away from Jasmine and into my bedroom. Still, she was supposed to be being honest here. Exposing her soul. Dammit. Stupid game.

  "I'd like to be cuddling up with…with someone special," she admitted.

  He seemed to absorb that, but he didn't ask. For that, Sara was grateful. She made a mental note to give him the same consideration the rest of the night.

  "Describe one sexual fantasy you've had in detail," she recited from the next card.

  While she waited for him to think of his answer, she changed Pencil's water in the kitchen. It was as though she'd called him; he came trotting in with the preternatural ability to sense humans interacting with his dishes. She leaned down to scratch him fondly.

  She came back in the living room. Matt was sprawled out horizontally on the sofa now, one hand extended outward holding his precious vodka. Something about his pose made her tempted to say, "Why don't we just take a snooze?"

  But if she did that, she'd have to admit the Challenge was flawed. And that wouldn't be fair to any of them. They should at least give this thing a chance.

  "Well? Got your answer?"

  His eyes opened. "I don't think you want to hear my answer. I'm drunk."

  "Already?" She believed him, though, when she saw how much of the bottle was gone. He'd drunk that much already? She'd be puking. "What are you like when you're drunk?"

  "Not in control."

  "Somehow I can't see you going on a rampage. It's really okay, Matt. You can tell me anything. I'm not going to think it's weird. I swear I've heard it all at this point."

  "No doubt," he murmured, turning his head to the side to take another drink.

  "Well, then…hey. I've got an idea." She went into the kitchen and came back almost immediately. She flipped down the light switch and lit the small emergency tea candles she'd found in the bottom drawer of the kitchen cabinet, setting them out around the room. Now they were in candlelit darkness.

  "There," she said with satisfaction, prying out and dumping on the floor the big cushion from the recliner. Pencil immediately climbed onto it. She arranged herself next to the dog on her tummy.

  "And there. Now we've got the sultry mood. It's late, it's dark, and it's even a little sexy. We can pretend we're teenagers at a slumber party. Or maybe we're sitting around a campfire, and instead of telling scary stories, we're telling sexy ones. Now. Tell me a story."

  She heard his low laugh. "I like you a lot, Sara."

  She grinned. "I like you, too, Matt. Even when you're obnoxious."

  "Which is most of the time. So. Sexual fantasy in detail." His voice was low and slow, which Sara put down to the alcohol he'd imbibed. "Just remember, you asked for it."

  "Absolutely."

  The silence was long enough for Sara to wonder what kind of fantasy guys like Matt did have. Gritty? Fetishistic? What was his sex life like? It was odd to even let her mind go there. He wasn't exactly old—just 26—but she had the feeling he'd been there, done that in most things sexual. So what was the stuff of his fantasies?

  Then he started to speak.

  "The garden is the kind with trees and old vines and flowers. I round the corner and see her, right in the middle of the hedges, cut off from everyone. She's lying on the ground. Nobody's around. It's dawn."

  Ooh. Intriguing. Sara shifted a little, punched the cushion, and put her head down.

  "She's on her back. Something has happened. The vines have grown from the ground around her wrists and ankles while she's slept. She's naked."

  Sara didn't hear anything, but a flickering shadow told her that he'd taken another sip of vodka.

  "Her breasts are small. The nipples are long and soft, they're rather…some flowers have drifted onto her stomach, carried by a breeze. She looks comfortable. The vines keeping her there don't seem to have cut into her skin. Her stomach is rounded. Did I say that already? The flowers are all over her legs, too. All colors. Fresh. Each day, the wind blows new ones on her. She's been there a long time."

  More silence.

  "The night was warm, but the rising sun is already scorching, and there's no shade. I tug on the vines to see if there's something I can do about getting her out of there. They're stuck; I think others have tried to do this, too. I look in my pockets. No scissors, no knife; nothing that cuts. I have sharp teeth, but I don't want to do that. I know if my teeth get too close, I'll bite her. I feel pretty savage about her."

  He paused. She heard him let out a breath.

  "There are so many flower petals, I almost can't see her pussy. But I wait, and a puff of air comes by and there it is. Dark. Spread. Labia like an exotic fruit. I squat down and part her completely. I see that she's dreaming of a man. Her sex runs like a brook, and I bend and drink. I'm thirsty. She tastes of rock and flowers, bitter and aromatic."

  A rustling told Sara he was shifting position.

  "Sounds are muffled here in the center o
f the hedges. But the day is waking up. I hear people. Equipment. I feel trapped. I want to leave. She's trapped here, too, and I can't take her with me.

  "Then I remember my mistake. I've let my mouth touch her. But it's too late. I turn my head and sink my teeth into her leg—just enough to sting. Not enough to draw blood—or not much. Just one bead. She stirs.

  "That excites me. I lie down on top of her and slide my cock slowly into her dream. Her eyes open, and that puts me fully inside her for real.

  "Her voice is low and smooth and confused. She doesn't know what's happened. I tell her she's trapped in a garden. Her pussy is tight around my cock, clutching. I feel her shaking. I don't think she's known pleasure like this since she's been in this garden. I…that's all I've got, Sara."

  The abrupt ending was a jolt. Sara couldn't speak for a minute. Then: "But I need an ending, Matt."

  "It's all I've got," he said again.

  She lay there for a while, contemplating things.

  A clink from across the room told her Matt had set the bottle down on the coffee table. She heard the snick of a card sliding off the deck. A flame flickered by the sofa.

  His tone was matter-of-fact. "A little hard to see in the dark, but…if you were to do one thing different in your life in the past, what would it be?"

  She expelled a breath. That was her friend. Action figures, games, barbecued ribs, jaded cynicism, and hidden depths.

  "I'd have suggested a different Challenge," she said sadly.

  SECOND FRIDAY—JASMINE AND HARRISON

  "Let me take that for you," Harrison said solicitously.

  Jasmine handed him her umbrella, and, when he hovered, her raincoat. She watched him drape the items over the kitchen bar counter.

  She liked Harrison. She'd liked him from the first day she'd met him. Just like Sara, he was considerate, sweet-natured, and honest.

  But Challenge or not, she didn't want to have sex with him.

  All week, she'd been thinking about this day. It was easier to focus forward than backward, and it kept her from thinking about Matt.