by Kent, Julia
Next time. He didn’t care that he was getting ahead of himself. But then...Dylan probably thought he had a next time, and Laura had shut him out. What was that about? He knew Dylan was tormented by her silence, but he couldn’t exactly ask her about it, now, could he? Not without blowing his cover. Cover? What the hell, Mike? he asked himself. This wasn’t some CIA movie or FBI plot. He wasn’t the center of a sting operation or an undercover drug bust.
He was, however, being deceitful, and that felt very, very wrong. Laura had no idea that he and Dylan were a— what? What were they, exactly? Explaining their relationship hadn’t been an issue with Jill. They just fell into their life as a threesome, as uncomplicated and easily as any other twosome. He and Dylan weren’t gay. Not quite. But they weren’t straight, either. They had tried, before Jill, to each date separate women but that first encounter, back in high school, where they both lost their virginity to the same girl, had cemented their needs. What they wanted was the power of three, and it made them both complete.
Dating one woman, sleeping with one woman, was pleasurable. Hell, Laura had certainly proven that! Already, though, he felt a longing for more. He imagined Dylan did, too. The complication now, though, was that Laura was spurning Dylan and deepening her relationship with Mike.
In the short term this was fine, but in the long run...what could he do? How could he mend the relationship between Dylan and Laura to make the triad complete?
Worse, though, was a niggling fear in the back of his mind. His heart. What if she preferred Dylan over him?
Opening up to Laura would be a whole other mess. “Hi, Laura. My partner, Dylan, found you on that dating website and figured you might be open to a long-term threesome. And, by the way, we’re billionaires. So...can we keep dating?” The deception was already over the top, strung out too long. A week, though, really— how could a week create such joy and do so much damage? How could their lives change so abruptly, so deeply, in such a short period of time?
There was no choice here. Whatever Laura decided was final. He couldn’t read her—just knew she liked him. A lot. Had she liked Dylan this much, too? If not, why? What had driven her away from him and into Mike’s arms?
The only way out was through. Through his heart, and hers. And Dylan’s. He would have to come clean to him, and soon, before this spiraled out of control.
It wasn’t fear that made him keep his mouth shut. It was exhilaration. Excitement. The secret of mine. Mine. Laura was his, for now. Only his. While he knew that wouldn’t sustain him in the long run, just as Dylan’s dating her, alone, wouldn’t do it for him, either, there was a heady confidence that came from scooping Dylan. He could never have imagined, never dreamed that Laura would spurn Dylan and turn to Mike, but here they were. This was how it had turned out, and now the only concern he had was that Laura would hate him once she knew that they knew each other.
Wait, Mike, he told himself. Savor this. After eighteen months of loneliness and pain, it was good to wake up in the morning with a smile on his face.
Even better, though, would be to wake up to two other smiles in his bed. God, the thought made him hard. Rock hard.
And so he found himself counting—879, 880, 881, 882—counting, counting, counting. And then he looked down and saw the tent on the top sheet. Ah, shit. There’s only one way to deal with this. A run.
He left the bedroom and nearly slammed into Dylan, who was coming out of the shower. “Hey, hey man, how was that date last night?”
Mike felt his expression shift to complete shock and he tried to cover up his feelings. “Oh, oh yeah, uh, yeah it was good.”
“Great,” Dylan clapped him on the back, staring down at Mike’s erection. “Yeah, thinking about her?”
“Thinking about a lot of things,” Mike answered, still stammering on the inside. Fuck—what if Dylan guessed what was going on before Mike could confess it? This was just too much. He spent most of his life trying to craft as simple a life as possible, and now he’d created a huge romantic clusterfuck. Way to go!
Dylan said, “Yeah, I have been too. But, well, anyhow...” He shook his head as if willing away something that was bothering him.
Mike knew he should ask, Mike knew that he should inquire, that this was Dylan’s way of reaching out, of being emotionally open, and yet he couldn’t. He just couldn’t muster the energy to deal with anyone else’s emotional struggles right now. Hell, he couldn’t even deal with his own. “Yeah, well, I’m gonna go for a run. I’ll see ya.”
“Alright, bye.”
They were just so articulate when it came to expressing their feelings. He could hear Jill’s words echoing in his head: “You two are about as good at talking about your feelings as I am at shaving my own balls.”
If he could get his feet pounding on the pavement, pounding on the trail, running in the dirt, the trees flying by, the buses groaning— whatever, wherever, whenever. Air in, air out, muscles up, muscles down. If he could reach that place within where everything disappeared and nothing was all—Mike knew he could figure out how on earth he was gonna tell Dylan that he had just stolen his girlfriend.
Dylan threw on a pair of shorts and some t-shirt from— he looked at the front—middle school? Yeah, middle school. He still had it. In fact, he never let go of any of his t-shirts. He probably had hundreds of them in various states floating around his apartment, everything from the ratty Monsters of Rock his brother had given him when he was just a kid, to the latest cheesy Daily Show shirt.
He opened up his laptop and he tried one more time. Clicking on Laura’s profile, he typed in the chat window, “Hey, Laura, are you there?” She had completely shut him out. He knew it had been a day, one day, that was it. Just a single day since she left his bed. But she didn’t answer his texts, didn’t answer his phone calls, didn’t respond to his chat window—nothing— and she had slunk out of his house in the middle of the night.
Now, he was certainly used to one night stands and having women sneak out—or being the one who snuck out on a woman —but he had felt such a connection with her that this mystified him. And now, the great silence. What was that about? Why was she doing this?
He knew how to find her address. He knew where she worked. He even knew the floor; she had told him. But he didn’t want to be a stalker. He didn’t want to be that guy.
And he wasn’t that guy. It wasn’t his style; he never did that kind of thing to a woman. This one, though? Oh, he could actually feel himself drooling, imaging her body, conjuring her touch, the way she shifted her hips, the way that she leaned against him, the way that her hair hung in his face, the way that her lips seemed to—
Oh, man.
He and Mike were a matching pair of tented shorts now.
What in the hell was up with Mike? He was acting awfully squirrelly. That was nothing new, but Dylan was going to all this trouble to find them another person. Not that anybody could replace Jill, but he wanted that closeness, he wanted that sense of family that only three could give him and Mike. And now, now he felt unmoored. Lost.
So he typed again. “Well, Laura, if you’re there, please, I’m trying to reach you. Give me a call, text me, something. I just wanted to talk. I really enjoyed the other night and let’s touch base”. And with that, he shut down, he logged out, set aside his computer and went to join Mike on that run.
As he started to put on his running shoes he remembered, Oh shit, I forgot to email my mom. His mom’s seventieth birthday party was coming up and he needed to give his dad some answer about some detail. His computer was already off. Oh, wait a minute, maybe I could just use Mike’s, he thought.
So he went into Mike’s room and yes, the laptop was open. This would be easy. He clicked on the browser and up popped the same online dating website where he met Laura. That’s funny, he thought, maybe that’s how Mike found his date last night. You would think he would have told me.
Blink, blink. Dylan wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but a dull, creeping drea
d began to fill his veins. As he stared at the computer screen and read the chat windows, the account information, the all-too-familiar picture, and scanned over every detail on the screen, it slowly dawned on him that Mike was logged into his account and having a lovely conversation about his most recent date.
With Laura.
Her Two Billionaires
Bang bang bang. Fireworks exploded above her, the dazzling pastels blooming before her eyes in a furious cascade of sparks. As the hot coals showered down like burning rain, Laura jumped when one touched her.
Bang bang bang! they exploded, the little pieces hitting her face, her legs, suddenly soft and caressing her like—
“Laura!” Bang bang bang. “If I hadn’t lost your key I would come in!”
Josie. Wha? Laura opened her eyes and fumbled for her phone. 7:22 a.m. She sat upright in horror.
“Hang on!” she shouted, stumbling to the door, unchaining and unlocking it. Josie stood there, petite and jaunty, peering around Laura.
“So is he still here?” she asked breathlessly. “Is that why you didn’t answer?” Josie looked like a chihuahua in skinny jeans.
“Is who still here?” Laura yawned and stood on tiptoe, her muscles desperate for oxygen, blood rushing into her extremities and nearly giving her a calf cramp as she slowly went down to flat feet, rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck.
“Whatever hot, eligible bachelor contacted you last night, because you are on a roll, Baby! One a day, right?” She punched Laura lightly in the shoulder and stormed past her, banging and shuffling things as Laura stared at the back of her front door.
For the briefest of seconds she ran a frantic mental check— had she gone out last night?— and then cursed herself. This was getting out of hand. No, last night she had stayed home and finished up some quarterly reports, watched a few episodes of Mad Men, and gone to bed early. Apparently, she’d needed the sleep. And, apparently, she had forgotten to set her alarm. Now she would be late for work, though she knew her boss wouldn’t mind. Last night she had clocked an extra three hours; flex time and a salaried position made it easier to go in a bit late this morning.
Josie didn’t have that luxury. As a geriatric nurse, she needed to be on shift on time, every time. At least she only worked three shifts a week, though. Soon her rotation would take her to midnight shifts, which Josie hated. So did Laura; it was hard to get together when her best friend kept a schedule better suited for vampires.
“I took a break from my busy fuckbuddy schedule,” Laura yawned, stretching again. Her belly felt cold as her shirt hiked up, and when she looked down her braless breasts hung lower, off to the sides, like small, smooth animals with the metabolism of a sloth. Josie had a chest like a boy’s, if a boy had tight little breasts you could fit in a headphone cover. Mostly, they envied each others’ figures, though Laura could never understand why Josie would want these boobs. At this rate, she’d need a wheelbarrow by the age of fifty. Or to marry a good plastic surgeon. Or a billionaire.
A quick thought of Mike, then a more surprising flash of Dylan, hit her. She couldn’t get over Dylan— didn’t want to, really. Mike had called her last night. Asked her out again. This time to his cabin up on the mountain. Maybe they could make love without a million uninvited, biting guests. That would be a step up, Laura thought, as she absent-mindedly scratched her ass over her flannel pajamas. She needed some arnica for the bites and kept forgetting to buy some.
“Quit scratching yourself and come have some coffee!” Josie called.
How did Josie know she was scratching? It’s like the woman was part psychic. Or heard the scrit scrit scrit of fabric as she scratched. Or watched her reflection in the hallway mirror. Ah— that was it. She looked and saw Josie’s cheesy, overstretched grin as she held up a mug and took a sip.
“Ahhhhh. Coffee tastes so much better at your house, Laura.”
“That’s because it’s free.”
Josie sputtered and laughed. “OK, you got me there.”
Laura poured a cup of coffee and sat at her little kitchen table, taking deep breaths. “What am I going to do, Josie? Mike asked me out on a date tonight.”
“What did you say?”
“Yes, of course. I really like him.” She took a sip. “More than I want to.”
“What does that mean?”
Laura said nothing, then started to explain, but thought the better of it. “Nevermind.”
“You are stuck on Dylan, aren’t you?” Josie’s tone was incredulous. “Did you ever figure out who that woman was?”
“Nope.”
“And has he tried to reach you?”
Laura blew air out her nose, laughing softly. “I have 34 messages from him on the dating site.”
“Oh, he’s playing it cool, isn’t he?” Josie laughed. Then she frowned. “But I thought you blocked him?”
“He created a new account.”
Josie made a low whistling sound of disbelief. “Day-um, Laura!”
Laura smiled wistfully. “Yeah. I just can’t go there, Josie. You know how much it hurt when I found out about Ryan...” She had dated Ryan for the better part of a year. They’d shopped for engagement rings. He’d introduced her to his boss, went on double dates, and then one day she got an anonymous message on Facebook. A request to friend.
Someone with Ryan’s last name.
His wife.
Funny how he had forgotten that detail.
Laura had a pretty simple morality: don’t date people who file taxes with other people as a married couple. Her rule was easy to grasp. Too hard for Ryan, though.
And now she applied the same rule to Dylan: no dating people who were involved with other people.
“If I’m going to be part of a threesome, Josie, it won’t be as the invisible third.”
“Mmmmm, a man sandwich with Laura in the middle. And those two men...” Josie licked her lips with great exaggeration.
Laura’s hands reached out to shove Josie before she could think to stop herself. “Cut it out!” Her face burned, though, with the thought. Josie just cackled.
A threesome. Menage. She’d never done it. But she sure had thought about it. As her breath hitched with embarrassment and arousal she shifted in her seat, now painfully aware of the increased heat in her nether regions.
Regions that had seen more activity— and from more men— in three days than in two months.
“Laura and Mike and Dylan, sitting in a tree— oh!” Josie joked, skittering away so Laura couldn’t punch her again. Shaking her head, Laura buried her face in her coffee to hide her expression from her friend, who was about a hair away from figuring out that Laura would welcome the menage.
It was all more than she could even acknowledge to herself, much less admit to her friend. There were lines in friendship. This was one of them. She couldn’t take back the words if she blurted them out, and right now she was just too confused and tired to deal with the fallout from admitting what her heart really desired.
Besides, there was that pesky issue of Dylan’s girlfriend. Funny, how that put a screeching halt to any sandwich fantasies.
At least she had Mike.
“You still have Mike, though,” Josie mused. “Poor Laura. Have to settle for a guy who looks like something out of Asgard. Does he have a tongue like a god, too?”
Laura threw the empty half-n-half container at Josie, who just chuckled as she stood and walked out the door, leaving Laura to get ready for a torturous day at work, the hours before seeing Mike stretching out like years.
As she dressed, though, she remembered her drive home from their last date. For some reason she still didn’t understand, she’d started crying as soon as they’d gotten in their cars. At first, she’d almost jumped out of the seat and run after him, just needing something—more. More words? No. More sex? Ah—no.
Just more.
By the time she’d arrived home she had been fine, so whatever triggered the tears seemed to have settled and found i
ts place inside her. Could sex with someone she’d only met a couple of days ago unleash emotions that strong?
Was it deeper than that? Her earring got stuck as she tried to shove the post through the ancient hole, the back of the earlobe grown over. A few layers of skin had closed up the back of the lobe and she worked to center the end of the post over the spot where the lump of scar tissue was thickest. Gritting her teeth, she forced the metal rod through, the hot sting of newly-pierced tissue evolving into a throb.
Her favorite pearl earring dangled nicely. Was it worth the pain?
Sure. For the sake of wearing something that complemented her perfectly.
Maybe Mike’s the same, she thought. You had to date a lot of painful jerks before you found the one who complements you perfectly.
Hot tears filled her mouth and eyes.
Aha. Now she understood.
And yet Dylan—she closed her eyes and full drops poured out of her inner tear ducts and down her nostrils. An ache in her throat spread to her chest. Ignoring his messages had been agony. Sheer, unadulterated pain in the form of restraint.
She had held fast, though she had faltered only once. The (gorgeous, incredible, irresistible) idiot had gone and created a completely new online dating account to circumvent her blocking him! How stalkerish and weird and creepy and—
Flattering.
Charming.
Arousing.
She had almost—almost, achingly almost nearly so close—broken down and agreed to meet him for coffee, just to hear his side of the story—which she already knew. It was a cliché upon a cliché, right?
Holding fast, though, she had simply typed:
Please leave me alone.
And, like magic, he had.
The ache that his respect for her wishes created in her was so contradictory yet so pervasive it made her question her own sanity. Why was she so drawn to this guy? What was so special that she would override her own moral code for him?