by Holly Dodd
“That’s true,” Regi said. “But you have to admit. Virgin or no. Any man lucky enough to get Jolene Miller in their bed…” Regi’s voice trailed off as he sucked down a deep swig of water.
“Yeah. If you played your cards right you could be that guy,” I said, deliberately keeping my voice casual. Anyone with eyes could see Jo had a monster-sized crush on Regi. I’d only met her a month ago, after a nightmare of a one-night stand. I’d picked up on her feelings as soon as someone mentioned Regi’s name. Her face lit up and her body all but hummed with energy.
Regi dropped his bottle next to his gym bag and got into the spotter position. “I know. And if she wasn’t a friend, maybe. I know I’m no good for her. I’m not a one-woman man. She needs someone who will treat her right. If Mia wouldn’t castrate me I’d hit it hard, though. But Mia being mad at me…well…that’s hazardous to my life.”
I laid down onto the bench Regi had vacated, and braced my hands on the barbell. The hungry note in Regi’s voice when he talked about Mia, Jo’s best friend, wasn’t new. I hadn’t met the girl yet, but she must be something else. Regi never pined over a girl. If there was anyone capable of tying Regi down, it was her. “Why haven’t you asked Mia out? You got it bad for her.”
“Nah, she’s just a friend,” Regi said, but we both knew he was lying. “Besides, right now that would hurt Jo, you know? And Mia would never fucking forgive me if I did that.”
We were both good at lying to ourselves. I didn’t know what Regi’s hang ups were with relationships. I had my own, and it was nobody’s business unless I wanted them to know. We didn’t discuss our emotions and shit like women did.
Given half a chance I’d love to be the man to usher Jo into the world of sex. She’d hadn’t mentioned her case of purity to either me or Regi. Jo just wore fresh-faced innocence like a beacon. Hell, at this point I would be more surprised if she wasn’t a virgin. With her purple-striped hair, glittery skirts, petite height, and banging body, she looked like a pin-up pixie.
Carrying the barbell down to my chest, I pumped it up and down a few times. The weight set was lighter than my usual, allowing me to get a few fast reps in. I tried focusing on the burn in my muscles, and tried stopping the stupid thoughts coalescing in my brain. Fuck, it didn’t help. As my testosterone built so did the need to claim Jo as mine.
“I might be able to help with that. I want to take a shot at Jo.” Fuck I sounded crass. What possessed me to even say that shit? Jo was just a friend. She was hands off. The only damn girl I knew that wasn’t trying to bed me, or tie me down, or make me into her perfect boyfriend.
Truth was, my head had been all wrong since I’d first laid eyes on Jo. The craving I had for her was something I couldn’t fuck out of my system. I’d tried. I’d been picking up random girls for the past few weeks.
It was sleazy of me to want Jo, especially with how I met her. She’d stumbled into the kitchen the morning after I’d stuck my dick into crazy. Her dark hair had been feathered in the back like a duck tail. There hadn’t been a single, extra inch of skin visible to leer at due to the flannel pajamas she wore. There was something about modesty that I hadn’t appreciated before. Not until her. I might have been okay with the unicorns and rainbows on her pajamas, but it was her cute-as-fuck pink cat slippers that did me in. They were so whimsical that I wanted to grab her up and never let her go. She could have been sixteen in that outfit, but the body beneath? All woman. Curvy. Ripe. Soft in all the ways women I met at the gym usually weren’t. Her body was inviting, not a temple that required tithes of coconut water and kale.
Jo’s reaction to me was still stamped on my brain. She’d stopped. Blinked. Gave me a quick once over. No doubt wondering if I was real or a dream. Her second appraisal was leisurely. When she’d gotten to my cock it’d taken a serious effort not to pitch a tent. She made me want to puff out my chest and strut around like a peacock. I been struck fucking dumb, and if I hadn’t had Angela’s perfume on my skin, I’d have bent Jo’s ass over the kitchen table and…
Fuck. I couldn’t get a hard-on in the middle of the gym.
The memory of how Jo looked once she realized where I’d come from cooled my libido. Her eyes had blanked, her lashes veiling the dark chocolate pools and taking the sun with it. Still, she hadn’t run away. Not even when she learned just how many women I’d been with.
Regi’s voice drew me out of my reverie. “Are you ready for that baggage? You’re worse than I am when it comes to women. Is it the newness of her that’s getting your dick hard? Are you liking the idea of being first?”
Fuck did I ever. I don’t know if this was a new, unexplored fetish of mine, or if it was all Jo, but the fantasy of being her first got me going quicker than anything else. “I’m not going to force her into anything. You know me, I have terrible impulse control. Besides, don’t you ever get tired of trolling the bars and waking up to a new girl? One who doesn’t know shit about you other than you got a big cock? That shit gets old.”
Regi stared down at me as I pumped the irons. “You sound like you’ve put some thought into it.”
I avoided his look, but by his sudden sharp whistle Regi had seen straight through my ploy.
“Oh shit. You have got a crush on her. Holy fuck. Does Angela know?” Regi slapped his thigh like this was the funniest fucking thing he’d ever heard.
I cringed as Regi spoke the devil’s name. “Bro, don’t even speak her name. She’s like Beetlejuice. Say it three times and she’ll pop out of the fucking woodwork.” My nape prickled and I had to scan the gym just to make sure Angela hadn’t appeared.
Regi laughed. “I can’t believe you nailed her.”
“You didn’t tell me she had a case of stalker-itis when you mentioned her. You just said she was a hot lay.”
The metal clanged as I placed the barbell back into its niche. Regi passed me a bottle of water. It wasn’t odd that we both had fucked Angela. Once we’d become friends we’d learned we had shared more than a few women between us. Though never together. Lately we’d taken our Eskimo brotherness to another level. One of us bagged the girl first, and eventually passed her off to the other. Good girls were always avoided. I might like to push a girl physically to her limit, but I made sure I protected their heart.
Regi gave them the “boyfriend” experience, made them believe in happily ever after and forever; white picket fences, two point five kids, and a fucking dog named Fido. I didn’t really like the game he played, but it wasn’t my place to call him out on it. We were both sluts.
Regi flashed me a shit-eating grin. “Better you than me. And she was a hot lay”
“Dick.” I grunted and guzzled a mouthful of water.
Regi laughed. “She’ll get over it when she meets another guy. You aren’t helping her by hanging around Jo all the time. And if you and Jo start dating.” Regi choked on the word. “She may have an aneurysm.”
Did I want a relationship with Jo? Did I want to date her? Damn girl had me all tied up, making me think thoughts I had no right to. “That’s part of why I haven’t asked her out. I don’t want Angela making her life hell. But if she’s making doe eyes at you. Well, I need to get in there first. If it’s okay with you.”
Regi thumped my shoulder. Hard. “If I wanted her you wouldn’t stand a chance, and you know that. But, I don’t. I might not have told her the reason, but Mia or Angela or one of the others probably clued her in. The fields all clear for you. Go get your dick wet, bro. You got my blessing.”
I stifled a grin. Now I just had to get Jo on board with the idea of being in my bed. It may not be for long, but it’ll be fun, that was for damn sure.
An odd ache clutched my chest, and I rubbed at it absentminded. No one, not even the little cat-slippered Tinkerbelle was going to tame me.
I didn’t do relationships. Period.
Three
Jo
“You can do this.” I stood outside the Alehouse trying to talk myself into going inside. Huddling into the
fur framing the hood of my glitzy winter coat, I scowled at the fogged window of the front door.
The old bar-bistro combo was a newish hot spot in Madison. It was the type of restaurant whose beer and alcohol menu were larger than the food one.
Being that it wasn’t far from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and within walking distance of the apartments and dormitories up on Eagle Heights, it was a popular spot and the perfect hangout for Mia’s Brewhouse Bunch.
Once I’d decided to go ahead with my seduction scheme, I’d hurried and invited Kevin to join us with Mia’s blessing. I’d expected him to say no since he was usually with a girl or searching for one. I’d hoped for more time to plan. Instead, he’d said yes.
Anxiety and excitement created a nauseating cocktail in my stomach. My stomach twisted, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wasn’t about to throw my guts up.
I wasn’t a social butterfly. I was a card-carrying bookworm. I was one of a few in the original group still slugging through the halls of academia. Though I attended these get togethers for Mia, I didn’t really know everyone. I usually just tagged along.
Having Regi and Kevin in the same space was going to be interesting. For me. For women in general. For my pussy. I wondered how the two guys would get along. They were cut from the same cloth: witty, charming, and screwed anything with two holes.
Being a psychology major it made me curious just what they got out of promiscuity. Was it the conquest? The thrill of new uncharted waters to stick their dicks into? Most men in the higher levels of academia tip-toed around the ideas of sex, treating women with respect. Unless they were horny teenage assholes, frat boys, or tenured professors, but that was a whole other tangent.
Regi liked the occasional relationship, but Kevin didn’t do repeats, at least per Angela.
I was going to change Kevin’s mind. Not on the relationship level. This was just a practice run for the guy I really wanted. All of this was for Regi.
Bastard was going to be worth it. I just knew it.
The longer I stalled and stayed out in the cold, the higher my risk of becoming an abominable snow-Jo became.
“Operation lose my cherry is a go,” I muttered with more conviction than I felt. I’d wasted enough time procrastinating. Though I had to take a few more deep breaths to control the deranged laughter swelling in my chest. The few patrons who’d walked in around me probably thought I was a lunatic.
When had I become so bold?
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
This was so unlike me.
When I first moved to Madison from Sauk County, Wisconsin I was the quintessential country mouse surrounded by hungry alley cats. Fresh off the farm with cheese curd behind my ears. But now that I was a few years out, and closing in on my Bachelor’s degree, I decided being bold might become me. Who would want a therapist that was too afraid to lasso life? Who would trust someone that was afraid of living and experimenting?
My own sexual peculiarities were a huge reason why I wanted to go into sex therapy. Maybe if I could help others with their issues, I’d figure out why I liked the things I did.
Dark things.
Kinky things.
The boisterous din of the restaurant and delicious heat enveloped me the moment I yanked open the door and stepped inside. With an open floor plan, the Alehouse was a collection of small tables separated by rustic half walls, and large round booths tucked into the corners. With its steel, glass, and low light ambiance, it reminded me of an upscale bar that accidentally became a popular restaurant. Other than the enormous selection of booze lit up by a rainbow of lights behind the bar, and two warring flat screen television sets tucked on each side of the restaurant, there wasn’t a lot of art or knickknacks on display. It was refreshingly utilitarian.
I worked at a tavern called the Old Fashioned that was exactly like the drink it was named after: antiquated.
I scanned the mostly college-age crowd before spotting Regi. He stood a solid three inches above the tallest guy in the group. He was built like a linebacker because he was one for the Wisconsin Badgers, our sports team. We’d managed to make it to the Orange Bowl this year, but our season had ended after that.
I swallowed a fission of excitement and made my way towards their table. Lord, I wanted to fling myself at his ankles every time I saw him and rub against his legs.
Just pet me. Please.
He hadn’t changed. He wore the same outfit from Physics. With the heather grey Henley rolled up to the elbows, I admired the strength of his vein-latticed forearms, and then his hands. His hands were enormous mitts with long, calloused fingers. I had a weakness for large hands. I’d fantasized about him touching me for what seemed like years.
“You made it!” Mia’s voice carried over the low hum of a dozen different conversations, waylaying me from my destination. I turned as she detangled herself from a group of girls and ran over to me, grabbing me in an unusual, welcoming squeeze. We were touchy feely, but she hugged me as if she hadn’t just seen me for lunch.
“I always try and come, just for you,” I said into her silky hair.
Mia pulled back and flashed me an impish smile. That grin told me all I needed to know.
Kevin was here.
Her clingy hug was all a ruse as she whispered into my ear. “Your new friend introduced himself. Did you know he and Regi are buddy, buddy? Why am I not surprised after what you told me? Anyway, you’ll have to get octopus arms away from him. She grabbed him the moment he sat down.”
Regi and Kevin knew each other? My heart sputtered and my gut heaved.
Mia turned me towards one of the tables the group commandeered. There was a couple in the shadowy part of the half-wall which created a secluded nook out of the horse-shoe shaped booths. Angela and Kevin. She hung off him. One lean leg was tossed over his lap doing a gentle bump-and-grind along his groin. If Angela’s boobs and legs were any more exposed, the Alehouse would go from a PG-13 establishment to X-rated in a flash of fabric.
I resisted the urge to go over and start a girl fight. She had more of a right to touch him than I did, even if I didn’t like it.
This is a complication. I wrinkled my nose. How was I going to get Kevin alone-ish? I didn’t want everyone to know I was a virgin or hear my plan. Especially if Kevin shut me down.
“I have an idea. Go stand by Regi. As if that’ll be a hardship for you.” Mia giggled. “If I’m right, Kevin will be at your side in under five minutes.”
“What are you right about?” Curiosity pawed at me with little cat feet, but Mia just shook her head and danced towards the girls she’d been talking to. She was hostess and the glue that held this social group together. I couldn’t hog all her attention. Even if I needed her to baby me through the first steps in my scheme.
How interesting. What had she meant?
I made a detour to the bar instead of a beeline to Regi. After this morning’s cringe-fest I needed some alcoholic armor.
I was getting better, though. It’d taken a solid month after Mia introduced us for me to not get tongue tied in his presence. I still stuttered sometimes when he turned his attention onto me, but I didn’t sound like a complete moron anymore.
I was being ridiculous. He was just a guy! A hot guy who I wanted babies with. But just a guy!
I sidled against the bar. Mouthwatering aromas of grilled and deep fried food wafted to me, and I realized I was hungry. I’d slept off the wine and large lunch Mia and I had earlier. Well, more like a carb coma. Maybe only an appetizer would do for dinner. After a quick glance at the chalkboard menu above the bar I knew exactly what I wanted.
“I’d like the loaded potato skins and a Brewhouse black cherry,” I ordered when the bartender turned to me. A mix of a soda and a hard cider, the handcrafted drought would calm my nerves without getting me full-blown tipsy. I was such a lightweight, and I didn’t want to tie one on until I got a yes, no, or maybe from Kevin.
“I’ll have another pale ale.” The low tones
right behind me gave me a start. A muscled arm brushed along my elbow, sending a riot of chills up to my shoulder and across my chest. My nipples puckered painfully. That voice. I knew who was behind me without looking.
Here goes nothing.
Turning, I met Kevin’s stare. Twin sparks of heat lodged in my chest and pussy. We had serious chemistry, or maybe it was one sided. But I wasn’t ashamed that my traitorous body wanted both Regi and Kevin. Sexual attraction was a biological function.
Kevin was a walking wet dream. He was comfort with an edge; flannel shirts, Levi jeans and Timberland boots; heavy metal music and mythical tattoos; a ridiculous manbun, and the body of an incubus. He was a horny Satyr and I wanted to be the nymph he fucked. My reactions to him were only natural.
Lord, he was so good looking he made my breath wither and my ears ring with my pulse.
Maybe Mia was right after all. Though it hadn’t taken Regi to trigger Kevin abandoning Angela. Just me alone. A quick glance over Kevin’s broad, flannel-encased shoulder revealed Angela sitting alone and glaring daggers my way.
Well, my home life was going to be tricky for a while. Angela and I weren’t best friends, or even friends, but we shared an easy coexistence. At least when Angela wasn’t wailing like a banshee to a headboard thumping soundtrack.
“Aren’t you going to get something for Angie?” I didn’t even attempt to stop the wicked smile which creased my lips. I’d heard all about Kevin’s regret over his one night with my roomie.
“Don’t you start,” Kevin laughed.
The comradery we shared, even when he’d been half naked drinking coffee in my kitchen, flowed through me. This was Kevin. Though we’d only met a month ago, it was easy being around him. There were no expectations and minimal flirtation. He was my closest male friend. Heck, he was my only male friend.