Gordon, Solara - Jet Lag Blues (Siren Publishing PolyAmour)

by Solara Gordon

She smiled as she undressed, remembering a friend who had gifted her with a kitten shortly after she’d gotten her first place. Three days later, with a red nose and watery eyes along with a prescription for allergy pills, she’d returned the precious gray fur ball at arm’s length to her friend.

  Wiping steam off the mirror, she laughed. If she had appeared anywhere close to her current look, no wonder her friend had gasped. Red, tired eyes and mascara streaks greeted her along with tufts of hair sticking out here and there. Okay, so at one point, she had laid back on the bed, clutching the spread, ready to cream her panties. Mason gave a damn good foot massage and knew the pressure points on her calves. Since he’d stopped hanging out or coming over much, she’d forgotten how good his hands felt on her.

  A knock rattled the door. Darryl cracked the door and stuck his head in. “How much longer you gonna be, woman?” His teasing tone made her giggle.

  “Stop ogling me.” She smirked and shook a finger at him. “A bit longer. Why?”

  “We’ll get the picnic area ready. And open the wine, if madam approves.”

  “Yes, and hand me my shampoo off the counter, please. I’ll use one of your soaps.”

  Darryl paused as her hand brushed his as she reached for the bottle. “Are you sure everything is all right?”

  “Yes. Now go and let me shower.” She pushed the door closed and turned the lock. A few moments without interruption and maybe her calm would return. What was it about seeing a man’s eyes light up with hot desire?

  Since she began dating Darryl, she’d grown accustomed to his presence. The nights he spent with her filled a part of her heart she hadn’t noticed before. Still the emptiness that used to be occupied by the three of them being together and sharing affectionate hugs and soft kisses refused to go away. Some nights she wanted to fall asleep wedged between Mason and Darryl like they had sometimes sat together watching movies or talking about anything and everything.

  Tearing open the bag sitting on the sink, Val withdrew the slippers. Mauve-colored chenille footies greeted her. Their softness caressed her fingers. Reaching around behind her, she unhooked her bra. She almost groaned aloud as she slipped the straps down her shoulders and freed one breast, then the other. She arched her shoulders and rolled them, easing the tension working its way up her back.

  Drawing the bag to her, she pulled out the lavender robe. Mason’s thoughtfulness warmed her. White lace decorated the edges and button-up front. Its three-quarter-length sleeves made her smile deepen. He’d overheard her remark to Darryl about borrowing one of his T-shirts to cover her sleeveless baby doll pajamas. Darryl had remembered her aching cold feet.

  Most women considered themselves blessed to find one attentive, thoughtful, caring companion. She had two. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked in the mirror. Was she ready for the two of them?

  A warm flush began just below her breasts and wormed its way upward. Images of Mason massaging her legs and feet flashed through her mind. She glanced at the slippers sitting on the edge of the sink. Their supple softness reminded her of his hands, his gentle yet firm grasp as he applied pressure against her calves and worked his knuckles across the soles of her feet. She thrust her hand into one slipper. Running her fingertips over the enticing softness, her cheeks grew warm at the thoughts racing through her mind. Vivid memories of a recent sensation play session with Darryl formed and mixed with the images.

  * * * *

  Darryl tightened the silk scarf covering her eyes. “Can you see anything?” he asked huskily against her ear.

  Excitement, tinged with a small amount of panic, rippled through her as something brushed against her. Her hands clenched and her arms flexed to rise. A cold ripple of fear iced across her stomach as her arms refused to move. Tipping her head from side to side, blackness greeted her. It was like she was totally blind and helpless. Never mind that she trusted the man she’d let restrain her in this way.

  His soft laugh rasped against her other ear. “Relax and let yourself adjust. In a few moments, your other senses will heighten, and the real fun begins.”

  She squirmed as he pulled her back against him. His hard cock nudged her buttocks and left a wet streak down one cheek. His hands cupped her breasts, rolling and tweaking her nipples between his fingers. Exquisite pleasure rippled over her, enveloping her deep within its web.

  Heat pooled between her breasts and threatened to overflow any control she had. All she could do was feel. Panic chilled its way to the edge of her molten desire.

  A tug and twirl. Then another and another in almost a steady rhythm until her sensitive tips tingled and pulsed at his slightest caress. His hot breath wrapped itself around the cool whorl of her ear and glided down over her arched neck. Shivers and trembles gripped her to her core as he raked his teeth slowly over her earlobe. “If you want me to stop, all you have to say is the code word.”

  Darryl’s tongue laved her heated flesh. Cool air raced over it, retracing the path he’d licked down her exposed skin.

  * * * *

  A short rap on the door broke her attention.

  Darryl’s muffled laugh followed. “Val, I think you forgot something,” he called through the door.

  Standing behind it, she opened the door. “Put it in my hand. I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

  Darryl stuffed her pajamas in her hand and kissed her wrist. “We’ll be waiting.”

  Warmth pooled deep behind her navel and flooded outward. Stepping away from the door, her motion drew her eyes to the mirror. Her nipples stood firm, peaking out from her breasts as though they begged for attention. Dropping her gaze, the slippers came into view. The culprits called to her, beckoning one last caress and rub. One temptation she refused to resist.

  Shoving her pajamas and robe aside, she grabbed and broke the plastic strip holding the slippers together. With one on each hand, she rubbed her cheeks and chin, luxuriating in the chenille’s softness. Her eyelids drooped and her hands slid down her throat and neck, raising more goose bumps along her arms and shoulders. Her hands moved lower until each stopped mid-breast. Taut and sensitized, her nipples pebbled, waiting their turn for caresses. Slowly, she inched her slipper-covered fingers forward, teasing along her areola and denying herself the full effect. Dare she go for it?

  “Yes-ss” slipped from her pulled taut lips. Her hiss echoed softly and died as Mason’s muted voice sounded outside the door. She dropped her hands and tossed the slippers atop her robe and pajamas. Thank goodness for the overhead heat lamp and exhaust fan. A short cold shower might help put out the wildfire building inside her.

  Chapter Six

  Darryl winked at Mason as he turned back from the bathroom door. “Something is going on in there.”

  Mason swallowed hard. He’d noticed the dampness of Val’s panties when she leaned back and clutched the spread as he massaged her feet. His ego and libido fought for dominance at that moment. What male could resist hearing a woman moan with pleasure and compliment him in the same breath? Hell, if his cock could have gotten any bigger, he’d have had two swollen heads to deal with. At least his cock knew how to let off some pressure. Good thing he’d worn his boxers and not forgone them. Or right now he’d be explaining cum spots.

  Damn, he’d forgotten how soft Val’s skin was and how sensual she was. Each touch and caress seemed to ignite a fuse between them. Touching her felt so right. It went beyond friendship. How much did he care? Could he explain or quantify it? Until he found the words to describe his feelings, he wasn’t admitting too much. Darryl and Val’s friendship meant more to him than a quickie or speaking out of turn.

  Two swift knocks on the room’s external door drew his and Darryl’s attention.

  * * * *

  “Who is it?” Darryl called out, tossing Mason a T-shirt.

  “Manager,” a male voice answered.

  Darryl walked toward the door, donning a T-shirt. He paused near Mason. “You might want to put that on to avoid the cold air when I open the door.”
>
  “Just a moment,” he stated, watching Mason scramble into the shirt. He sidestepped as he opened the door. A gust of wind whipped in, sprinkling snow across his bare feet.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” the gray-haired gentleman explained. “We don’t expect a power outage. But to be safe, I brought extra blankets and a couple of flashlights.”

  “Thanks. We appreciate it,” Mason replied, reaching for the items.

  “One more thing.” The manager stepped back out and retrieved a large plastic shopping bag. “Clean towels and sheets for you. Storm’s stalled. Hate to ask you to do your own housekeeping.”

  Darryl laughed and took the bag. “Gives me a chance to practice my hospital corners.”

  As the manager turned, he pointed to the TV. “With the wind, reception is limited. Channel eight is running an old movies marathon. Have a good night.”

  Locking the door, Mason turned. “Where are we picnicking?”

  Darryl glanced around the room. Only one area could accommodate them comfortably, the section closest to the bed. Talk about an obvious innuendo.

  “Grab a couple of pillows off the bed and spread a blanket nearby. I’ll check on Val.”

  * * * *

  Mason stepped back from the picnic area. Two blankets, one on top of the other, formed a lopsided square. Pillows and glasses sat along the end closest to the door. The heater kicked on. Its whine and groan almost matched the wind’s external noise.

  “Nice.” Darryl’s voice caught him off guard. Mason jumped, startled.

  “Sorry about that,” Darryl began. “You sure you’re all right?”

  Mason shrugged. Blurting out an answer would destroy anything he had already said to reassure them. If he didn’t answer, Darryl would start asking more questions he wasn’t sure he could answer or wanted to. Yet they were stuck together for what now appeared to be two days, thanks to the damn storm. He’d better say something and sound convincing.

  “It’s been a while since the three of us got together. Just seems different, I guess.”

  Darryl’s muffled chuckle made him turn.

  * * * *

  Darryl sat on the edge of the bed. Mason’s rigid shoulders and preoccupied look screamed of his edginess with things. Letting him speak might get his issue out in the open. “Look, something’s bugging you. Spill it.”

  Mason’s sigh punctuated his sideways glance. The last time he’d appeared this agitated was after his argument with his high school best friend.

  Darryl sucked in air. His stomach flip-flopped, sending an anxious ripple racing through his gut. His hands grew sweaty. Had he assumed when he needed to be direct? He rose as Mason sat facing him at the table. Clearing his throat, Darryl made sure he had Mason’s attention. “Tell me straight. What’s going on?”

  Mason’s tight lips and shrug didn’t help. Another belly flop and heart palpitation made him want to pace. “Want me to take a stab at it?”

  Mason shook his head. “No thanks. I’m not sure I can put it into words.”

  “Okay, give it a try before Val comes out.” Anything was better than knowing nothing. Right?

  Mason’s nod slowed the agitation churning in his stomach and working its way into acidity lapping up his throat. Their friendship ranked in importance as much as his and Val’s relationship. One more fast glance from Mason and he’d yell.

  “All right, here it is,” Mason started, rising and moving closer. The lock on the bathroom door clicked.

  Shit, please don’t let him clam up! Darryl stood still, waiting to see if Mason continued.

  “You and Val are a couple. We’ve hung out very little since you began dating. Most times, I meet you at Val’s or you stay behind. It’s awkward.”

  Darryl rubbed his hands across his shirt, hoping to dry their sweatiness. He reached out and clasped Mason’s shoulder.

  “Val’s your friend. So am I. Just because we date hasn’t changed that. Okay?”

  “I guess. But...” Mason’s voice trailed off as the bathroom door opened.

  “Hey guys, where’s the food?” Val called out.

  Darryl stepped past Mason, gripping his shoulder. “Let’s eat and kick back. We can talk more after we’ve eaten.”

  Mason nodded and moved toward the kitchenette. Darryl caught his brief smile as Val greeted him. Maybe he needed to hear it from both of them. They’d all been through changes in the last few months.

  Mason’s promotion moved him to longer flights. Val’s temporary duty status flexed her hours, sometimes daily. His own schedule was a whacked splits off or split shifts. None of them had much free time coordinating with the others. He could understand Mason’s view. The last time he’d been this sullen, Mason had been in love.

  Mason was in love—full out in love with—Val? Or another woman and he felt guilty about it? Why? Loving Val and another woman didn’t subtract from love for each other. Except if Val was his focus, what had him so wrought up?

  Darryl spun toward Mason. He stumbled. His lips moved though nothing came out. Val caught his arm, righting him.

  “A bit of wine already?” She winked at him and moved toward Mason.

  “Let me help. That way we eat quicker,” she offered, reaching for the bread.

  Chapter Seven

  Mason stood and stretched. The remnants of their picnic dinner sat along the edges of the blanketed space. He smiled as Val’s hand flew to her mouth trying to cover another yawn. Turning, he clicked off the TV. Darryl’s soft chuckle drew Mason’s attention. “What’s so funny?”

  “Val’s challenge that she’ll outlast us on staying awake. Two movies down and she’s yawning already.” Darryl nudged her.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault. Two glasses of wine and a full stomach...what do you expect?”

  Darryl rose and hovered over her. “How about we cut cards to see who cleans up?”

  Mason sat on the edge of the bed. “Be great if we had a deck. Why not put our names on slips of paper, mix ’em up, and draw for who does what?”

  Val nudged Darryl’s leg as he groaned. “What’s a matter, big boy?”

  “I usually get stuck with the dishes.”

  Mason laughed. “Well, let’s agree on three things, and the last one chosen gets to decide who they help.”

  “Besides,” Val added, “how long is it gonna take to wash a few plates and forks?”

  “Okay, okay.” Darryl threw up his hands. “I say the three things are dishes, trash, and what we do next.”

  “Agreed,” Val and Mason replied in unison.

  * * * *

  Darryl pondered Mason and Val’s interaction. He’d known Mason long enough to know the signs. And this time he had it bad. The last time was with his ex-fiancée Betsy. Who’d captured his attention this time? How deep was his heart in it? He hoped Mason wasn’t feeling guilty about caring for two women, Val and his other interest.

  * * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Val handed Darryl the last plate. “Can’t you dry any faster?”

  “Keep it up, woman, and you’ll get yours.” Darryl stacked the plate atop the others sitting on the counter.

  “Oh?” Val grinned and turned. She took two steps and glanced over her shoulder.

  “You crusin’ for a towel swat?” Darryl drew the hand towel tight between his hands.

  “Have to catch me first.” She picked up her pace and moved toward Mason. “You gonna let him get away with it?”

  Mason’s lopsided grin told her she was in trouble. A quick glance toward Darryl showed he had closed the space between them.

  Mason in front of her. Darryl behind her. Crap! If she didn’t do something quick…

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spied her back-up. Mason had left the pillows on the foot of the bed as cleaned up. Grabbing the closest one, she spun toward Darryl.

  “Pillow fight!” Val yelled and smacked the towel between his hands.

  “Help, Mason,” Darryl yelped as Val came back around.

  “She’
s lethal with that thing. I ain’t getting near it.”

  * * * *

  Two quick thwacks sounded as Val and Darryl took turns swatting at each other. Mason leaned on the doorjamb and glanced at his watch.

  “Let me know when you’re done.” He feigned a yawn and looked up.

  Mistake! Val and Darryl advanced toward him.

  Holding up his hands in front of him, he stepped sideways. “Wait a minute.”

  Val moved away from him. He turned his head, keeping her in sight.

  Smack! Darryl’s laughter followed close behind him. Val snickered and stuck out her tongue at him.

  “I yield,” Mason yelped.

  A loud thud sounded. “Damn,” Darryl cussed.

  Mason turned toward him. Darryl lay sprawled across the floor with the remaining pillows scattered around him.

  Val burst out laughing as she plopped down next to Darryl. “Never underestimate a woman and her arsenal.”

  Darryl made a face at her and joined in her laughter. Mason soon joined in.

  * * * *

  Val knuckled a tear from her cheek. “God, I needed that. I haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”

  Darryl wiped his eyes with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, sometimes it feels good to be silly.”

  Mason sat down opposite them, holding out a box of tissues. His other hand held two, damp from wiping his eyes. “Need these?”

  Val pulled several from the box and handed Darryl some. “Thanks. Whew. I’m thirsty.”

  Darryl dragged his improvised ice bucket closer—a small wastebasket a third full of melted snow. He drew the almost empty wine bottle from it. “How about this?”

  “Hey, you’re getting me wet.” Val scooted closer to Mason. “How are we supposed to drink it? Out of the bottle?”

  Darryl shoved the bottle back in the wastebasket. It wobbled back and forth. He started to stand, taking a hold of the basket, causing it to rock more.