by Kent, Julia
Beep-blip! A little chat window popped up and Laura splashed coffee on her hand in surprise at the unexpected sound. “Ow!” she shouted, grabbing a kitchen towel and shaking it out. “What the hell!?” She peered at the now lit-up screen, a familiar chat window open in the right lower-hand corner.
“Oh, geez,” she sputtered, her words echoing through her empty apartment. Somehow he had figured out she was online, ‘cause this was a chat from Marathon Mike himself.
Hi, there. Are you on right now?
Oh, God, she still had the smell of Dylan on her and now she had some new guy coming after her? What a slut she was. She thought about that for a second. The word slut didn’t really apply to her, ever. It was more that she was trying on new behaviors. Let’s try this one on for size, she thought.
I’m just drinking my coffee and getting ready for work and I logged in and saw your message, so hi!
Oh, good morning! Yeah, I’m not really functional without two or three cups of coffee myself.
He added a little grin icon.
Hmph... yeah who isn’t, she thought.
Laura chugged the rest of her mug’s contents and typed, one-handed,
So I see you’re, like, Mr. Triathlon and ski dude, and my idea of exercise is walking across the room to get the remote.
He wrote back several lines at once:
lolol, yeah don’t be afraid, we could just go for a hike if you want.
Oh, I think I just asked you out.
Yeah I did.
?
“Oh, man,” she muttered. She stared at the glowing screen, dumbfounded, her empty coffee mug dangling precariously off her right index finger as she absorbed this. What was this? Did she hit the good-looking guy lottery? Out of the blue, she just—oh, she had just totally ditched Dylan in his bed last night, and now she had some guy who looked like a lankier version of the actor who played Thor hitting on her, but deep inside she decided she was trying on this new act, and she would just go for it.
Just go for it, Laura. What can it hurt? A swell of physical memory from last night made her warm between her legs, made her skin flush with the recall of Dylan’s hands. She wanted more. And if she couldn’t have more of him, she might as well have some of Mike.
A hike, yeah, I’d like that. That sounds really cool.
And she breathed in opportunity, and breathed out rejection, breathed in despondence, and exhaled chance.
Chance favors the prepared. Laura was more than ready.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
Her Second Billionaire
Mike knew that there was absolutely no chance that she was going to answer his little chat outreach anytime within the next twenty-four hours. He knew that Dylan had a date with her last night, but hoping against hope and because he was an eternal optimist, he decided to log on while he was having his morning cup of coffee.
And to see if maybe—just maybe—she might have answered him, even though it was now six minutes before seven in the morning. He figured she was still in Dylan’s bed, probably going on for round seven (knowing Dylan), and there wasn’t a chance in hell that she would...wait, what?
He stared at his phone where he’d logged into the app for the online dating site. Her little icon blinked rapidly— he’d subscribed to her and her avatar had suddenly turned green.
Oh, holy hell, no! he thought. Hell, yes! a different voice answered in his poor, addled brain. Enough with the ridiculous self doubts—he had to grab his chance now. She was logged on to the dating site early in the morning after a date with Dylan. This meant—oh, the implications stunned him. Made him smirk.
Mike took a swig of coffee and quickly tapped out:
Hi, there. Are you on right now?
She typed back,
I’m just drinking my coffee and getting ready for work and I logged in and saw your message, so hi!
Wait a minute. Back up for a second. So if she was at home drinking her coffee, then that meant Dylan had struck out. Ooh! Well that wasn’t quite what he wanted. He’d wanted Dylan to have some success, but not to hit a home run. And so it looked like maybe he’d hit a single? A double?
The app stared at him, as if it were alive. He quickly punched in:
Oh, good morning! Yeah, I’m not really functional without two or three cups of coffee myself
with a little grin icon.
See, now, this was the problem with trying to find the right women. He didn’t want to be the sloppy second that the women settled for. He wanted someone both he and Dylan could share, equally. When it came to their limited experience trying to find the right, single woman, Dylan had always been the front man and Mike had been the wingman. He was tired of being the wingman. Maybe it was time, really, for the best man to win. That comment to Dylan had most definitely not been just a joke—he’d been very, intensely serious.
And that man was stepping up to the plate now, ready for his turn at bat. Oh God, he was getting sick of the baseball metaphors.
The app beeped as she replied with:
So I see you’re like, Mr. Triathlon and ski dude, and my idea of exercise is walking across the room to get the remote.
Oh, man. She was chatting him up. There was a natural opportunity here and he—he couldn’t blow it. He couldn’t blow it. He sat there in his boxer briefs, typing away with one finger on his ridiculous smart phone interface and realized that the boxer briefs were getting awfully uncomfortable. Because as he typed, he stared at her little avatar with those sweet dimples, and that amazing, intelligent look on her face and decided that his body’s response was telling him pretty much all he needed to know.
He typed out something that sounded good on the surface, and then the second that he typed it—augh!—he wanted to take it back.
lolol, yeah don’t be afraid, we could just go for a hike if you want.
Oh, I think I just asked you out.
Yeah I did.
and then he ended it with a question mark.
Shit, a hike? A hike? God, could that be any lamer? Why couldn’t you come up with something romantic? Beating himself up came naturally, and this time he had good cause—a hike? Dylan had taken him up on his advice and taken Laura out to the fancy Asian fusion place that so many of the women they had dated loved to go to but, then again, he could count “all of the women they dated” on one hand.
All of the women had also flatly and resoundingly rejected what they were offering, which was, he had to admit, pretty unique. However, settling for second best had left them both hollow and incomplete, and now they had an added complication. 2.2 billion of them, to be exact.
A hike, yeah, I’d like that. That sounds really cool.
The words sat on the screen like fairy dust, as if some unseen spirit had conjured them from a mystical layer in the universe and plopped them on Mike’s phone. Seriously? She said yes?
She liked the hike idea. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. He sucked down more coffee, the hot liquid helping to regenerate his brain cells, making him come alive and think think think to say the right answer.
Which was...? Smacking his forehead, he ran both hands over his head: twitchy fingers through his hair, his other palm grazing a day’s growth on his chin. Jesus. She was saying yes! The coffee felt like a pool of hot lead in his gut now as he raced to reply, typing out a response. OK, OK, breathe dude. Breathe, breathe, breathe. What could he say?
What could he say? Keep it simple. With a shaking finger, he wrote:
OK. So, how about this afternoon. After work? You wanna do lunch and then go for hike? I know a great spot in this State Park, a nice easy trail, it won’t be too hard on you.
He hit enter and then realized that that was probably one of the stupidest things he could have said, his fingers itching to find some magical “retract” button, a switch he could flip to withdraw his words from cyberspace.
Fuck! He wasn’t implying that she was out of the shape, he didn’t mean to... oh, shit. Mike, you idiot! He buried hi
s head in his hands and fully expected her little icon to go away and disappear, and for Laura to think he was just a double failure at this shit, to go running back to Dylan—who knew how to handle women. Then again, if he was that good, why was Laura chatting right now?
She replied:
Sounds good. I’ll wear my hiking boots, don’t worry. I have feet, I can walk, I can use them, I can even move them independently while chewing gum.
And funny, too! He laughed and wrote back:
OK, phew, good to know. I like bipeds
and typed down his phone number. Laura sent hers back and he realized that he needed to say something, yet had no idea what to say because this was the first time that he had actually found a woman, on his own, without Dylan.
Yeah, yeah, yeah— technically Dylan had found her, but Dylan had no idea that he was independently pursuing her. The not-inconsequential fact that he had just essentially sniped her couldn’t be ignored, either.
Wow! He just stared at his smart phone, dumbfounded, willing away an erection that ignored the effort, no hope that it was going to go away. He could tell as he just stared at the blinking cursor.
Finally she wrote back,
Hello, hello. Are you there, Mike?
Oh, Jesus. He startled as he realized he needed to respond, and quickly typed back,
Yeah, sorry. Not enough coffee yet. So, great, it’s a date? And thanks.
She wrote back a little smiley face, and he realize as he leaned back in the chair that he may have just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Had she really just made a date less than three hours after sneaking out of another guy’s bed? She opened up one of the seventeen texts from Josie which, as she scrolled through them, appeared to all be variations of “Please tell me about the hot guy.”
So she finally decided to put Josie out of her misery and typed out, “Hey. Awesome night. Will tell you the deets later”, hit “send” and almost instantly got back a response.
What do you mean later? Hell, no. I’m coming over.
She wrote back:
Can’t. I’m late for work as it is. Let’s just say I need a shower this morning.
and hit “Send”.
Squeeeee
was Josie’s reply.
Do you have another date?
Do I have another date? Oh, yeah, Josie, I have another date. It’s just not with the same guy. Ugh, how was she going to tell her this? She needed two showers. One to wash off Dylan and the other one to wash off her own skank.
This was getting ridiculous. She typed back:
There’s a lot to this. Will write more later. Talk later.
She hit “Send” and turned her phone over, leaving Josie hanging, and padded into the shower. Indeed, it was time to wash off Dylan and her own... er... her own sense of ambiguity? Indecision? Disappointment?
Revelation? For she had learned so much these past few days, mostly about herself. In some ways, she was surprised to realize, it didn’t matter that Dylan was with someone else. In the past, that would have crushed her, but now—now she felt a renewed sense of power. Of strength. Stripping down and turning up the temperature on the shower’s spray, she felt her body melt into the hot water, the sting of the jets tearing her away from her looping thoughts, putting the focus back on her body. Rivulets of water streamed over her breasts, down her belly, with its gentle curves and lush skin, pooling at her V and sliding down her thighs, a familiar heat rushing into her womanhood.
It may have been only a few hours since she’d left his bed, but his mark really was on her. Closing her eyes, she remembered his touch and felt an incongruous sense of guilt. Guilt? He’s the one who had a girlfriend or wife. Yet here she was, scheduling a date with a stranger hours after having Dylan in her. On her. All over her.
The detachable shower head was about to earn its keep. She knew exactly where to aim it, her hands practiced when it came to masturbating. All her normal fantasies, though, weren’t cutting it—not the dream about Jake Gyllenhaal, or Matt Bomer, or even Zach Braff. Instead, her mind drifted to Dylan. And Mike.
As she parted her labia and zeroed the jet spray on her clit, she fought the image of Dylan. And Mike! Both? Yet nothing made it go away. Her body responded to the mere idea of it, of both of them at once, of four hands, two mouths, two cocks all focused on her. Laura. On her needs, on her pleasure, on her discovery. Ahhhhh...
This was crazy! She hadn’t even met Mike yet. Had crawled out of Dylan’s bed just a few hours ago, resolved never to see him again. Why was she letting them dominate her fantasies? She still had Dylan’s juices in her, his saliva dried on her, his kiss and skin and lips all—well, now that the water washed the night away, that wasn’t really true, but her neck tightened as her breasts swelled, her hands holding the shower spray in one hand, centered straight on her clit now, her other hand parting her labia and two fingers slowly entering her, the balance hard to achieve but easier as she propped one foot up on the edge of the tub and leaned back against the shower wall.
Her fingers encountered slightly sore flesh, her mouth spreading with an unexpected grin as she recognized why it hurt a bit, why the water’s sting was so bittersweet. Ah, Dylan—he had been thick and huge and gentle and rough all at once, knowing exactly how to press her skin, tweak her tight spots, play her body to perfect orgasm over and over with his tongue, his lips, his fingers, his hands, and that gorgeous, veined cock.
Now she had a face for her menage fantasies— Mike’s. Why not? Live a little, Laura. No one knew what went on in the privacy of her own mind, her own shower, and as she sighed deeply, the pressure of everything vanquished, she felt a familiar heat and bliss rise up in her as the water pulsed its way into her soul, her clit crying out for more, her fingers sliding in and out of her tight pussy not in a heated rush but, instead, slowly, stroking that spot on the top that always made her clench just a tad harder, made her breath hitch, made her imagine it was Mike’s fingers in her, Dylan’s tongue strumming her clit, both men eager and ready to enter her at once.
“Mmmmm,” Mike moaned in her ear, his thick, wiry runner’s body sliding next to hers in the shower, beads of water darkening that blonde hair, toned arms lifting her up and plunging her down on his ready cock. And then—was that Dylan’s mouth on her ass? Then gently parting her cheeks as Mike lifted her, had her straddle him across the waist as he effortlessly held her in place, strong legs bending slightly so Dylan could...
She snaked her pinkie finger down so it played with her puckered anus, the mere touch of her fingertip on her perineum enough to tip her over, imagining Dylan filling her, double entry almost too kinky to even let herself dream about.
“Ah, God, Laura, more,” Dylan groaned behind her, his cock inching slowly inside her ass, Mike’s tip pushing hard against her cervix, her body entombed between them as the water sprayed down. When Dylan’s mouth found her earlobe she—
Exploded. The shower head, her pinkie finger on her anus, her fingers exploring her g-spot, and her dream all combined to make her bend down and scream as a mad rush of orgasm pounded her instantly, no warning, no teasing, just a wall of everything that left her gaping, her mouth open and her throat hoarse as she let it all unleash, her shoulders twitching and bashing into the wall, her hands moving and milking this for everything she could find, her mind filled with images of Dylan and Mike simulfucking her, their faces strained and cumming, too, all from her. Her body, her presence— her.
And then—nothing. Like a switch flipped, she pulled her hands out of all her orifices, turned the shower head off, washed up fast and got ready for work. Sated, no longer distracted, she shifted from horny, bewildered single on the dating scene to Business Analyst for the megacorporation.
That wouldn’t last more than a few minutes, for she knew her mind would wander, soon. For now, though, it was a welcome and much-needed break.
Mike had no idea what he was supposed to say as he stared at the chat window. This was so out of his eleme
nt and Laura seemed so out of his league, but he knew he needed to do something. He couldn’t let Dylan be the one in charge of yet another woman. They were supposed to share her—that was the entire plan.
So he had typed,
lolol, yeah don’t be afraid, we could just go for a hike if you want.
Oh, I think I just asked you out.
Yeah I did.
?
And when she typed “Yes,” he couldn’t believe it— and panicked. Now he actually had to step forward. Dylan had always gone out and found the women and had been the one to find Jill, and no matter how desperately they both missed Jill, Jill was gone and they had to accept that.
Laura was pretty much the opposite of Jill, but he could see what Dylan saw in her. That was a sweet smile. She seemed accomplished, and there was something Mike couldn’t put his finger on, a genuineness and authenticity, but he and Dylan were not exactly the most conventional package.
So he worried that maybe a business analyst at Stohlman Industries wasn’t going to make the cut—or maybe he was more worried that they wouldn’t make the cut with her. The office cubicle type wasn’t exactly eager to go out on the slopes or to even watch him at mile marker twenty during a marathon, in his experience.
But Dylan was giving it a good try and Mike had to, too. The problem was that Mike had to do it in secret. He typed in a few more words, they scheduled the hike, and then she disappeared, off to whatever corporate job she had on whatever floor of whatever giant skyscraper downtown. That world was so alien to him; he worked at a ski resort, and in fact he was missing it already.
You don’t just work there anymore, a voice inside him said. You own it...
The season hadn’t started yet, but he looked forward to it. He always did every year and when he wasn’t skiing, he was running. Between the two he kept his sanity somehow, for over the years he had learned that the endorphin kick that came from running and from the massive double diamond trails in the winter were what he needed most. Jill had fit in nicely with his life and with Dylan’s life, spending time running with him. Man, was she an ace on the slopes, too.