by Selena Kitt
“He’s cute.” Daphne smiled over the rim of her wine glass.
Carrie laughed, taping up the box. “You like him.”
“A little,” her friend admitted, giving her a sidelong look.
Carrie took the offered Sharpie, addressing the box to the timeshare in Florida. “Do you want to know something about him that I’m now pretty sure you don’t know?”
“What?” Daphne gave her a return address label to stick on.
“He has a tattoo...” Carrie paused, looking up at her for emphasis. “On his cock.”
Daphne’s jaw dropped, a quite satisfying response. “Are you serious?”
“Creepy or sexy?” she asked.
“Sexy.” The redhead nodded, sipping her wine. “Unless it’s something weird. Then it could be creepy.”
Carrie snorted. “See, I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Unfortunately, we didn’t get quite that far,” Daphne sighed, watching her put the last box with the others.
“Too bad.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Wait... quite that far. That means...” Carrie squealed, jumping up and down. “I knew it! I knew it!”
“So we made out a little.” Daphne tried to hide her smile. “Not far enough to see his cock tattoo, though, that’s for sure.”
Carrie grabbed her glass of wine, taking a gulp. “He offered to show it to me, but Doc stopped him.”
“Go figure.” Daphne laughed.
“Well, Doc is pretty open about me being with women, but men... not so much.” Carrie shrugged, carrying her wine into the living room.
Daphne trailed behind her. “What do you mean, he’s open?”
“We’ve always had this understanding, since college. Because, you know, I’m bi.” Carrie sat on the sofa, curling her feet under her, inwardly holding her breath. Revealing the fact that she was bi was the first step—and might be the last.
“You are?” Daphne sank down beside her, all wide-eyes.
“Well... yeah.” Carrie glanced up, trying to gauge her reaction.
“Interesting.” The response wasn’t much of a clue.
So she just decided to ask her directly. “Does that freak you out?”
“No. I just didn’t know.” Daphne ran a wet finger around the rim of her glass. “I mean, it’s not often you find someone else who’s bi.”
“You?” Carrie hid her smile behind her glass. Doc had been right after all.
Daphne nodded.
“Doc thought you were.”
“Did he?” Her friend laughed. “But you didn’t guess?”
“I suspected...”
“So wait...” Daphne leaned in, curious. “Have you been with a woman since you’ve been married?”
“No.” Carrie shook her head. “But Doc thinks I should.”
Daphne’s eyes narrowed and she frowned. “Is he one of those guys who wants you to be bi so he can cheat?”
“No, it’s not like that,” Carrie protested. “He doesn’t care if he’s not involved. He’s fine with me being with a girl all on my own.”
“Really?” Her friend looked doubtful. “But he wouldn’t mind if he was a part of things, of course.”
“Well yeah.” Carrie grinned. “I can’t blame him.”
“But not guys?”
She pursed her lips, remembering their conversation about Wilson. “Actually, we were just talking about that.”
“And what did you two decide?”
Carrie shrugged. “He’s not as okay with that.”
“Go figure.” Daphne snorted, glancing at her. “Let me guess... the conversation was about Wilson?”
Carrie blinked and swallowed, not sure if she should tell her friend the truth—but they always told each other the truth, right? Even when it hurt.
“Well... that’s where it started, I guess.”
“I can’t blame you.” Daphne’s finger traced round and round the rim of her glass. “He is fine. Prime threesome material.”
“Well, he’s not an option on the table,” Carrie reminded her, putting her hand on her friend’s forearm. Her skin was as soft as a baby’s.
“But I am.” Daphne spoke the words, matter-of-fact, sliding her hand down to press it into Carrie’s. “Doc’s given you permission to have sex with me... if you want.”
“Yes.” Carrie’s heart beat so fast it felt like it might burst out of her chest. “If you want.”
Daphne linked her fingers with Carrie’s, smiling. “I wish I had a husband who was so open.”
“You don’t have a husband at all.” The words were out before she thought about them.
Daphne laughed. “Thanks for reminded me.”
“You know what I meant.” Carrie flushed, squeezing her hand. “You’re free to do whatever you want. With anyone.”
“I am.” She nodded, their eyes meeting.
“If you were me...” Carrie swallowed. “What would you do?”
Daphne said what she felt, as always. “I’d have an affair with my best friend.”
“You would.” Carrie couldn’t catch her breath.
“Hell yes,” she breathed.
The front door opened and both girls jumped, startled, as Doc came into the room, brushing snow off his shoulders.
“Hey girls! It’s snowing, but they say it’s supposed to warm up, so I doubt we’ll get a white Christmas. Not that we’ll be here anyway...” He slid his coat off, glancing at them sitting on the sofa, and then stopped, looking between them, from one to the other. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” Carrie protested, trying not to sound breathless as Daphne unobtrusively disengaged her hand.
“I was just getting ready to go.” Daphne stood, putting her wine on the coffee table. “Nice to see you, Doc. Have a good holiday, if I don’t see you.”
“You, too,” he replied, watching as she slid on her coat and boots. He held the door for her as the women said goodbye, waving to each other before Daphne slipped out into the cold.
Doc looked after her, curious. “What was that about?”
“Nothing.” Carrie wasn’t in the habit of lying to her husband, but this time, this one time, she wanted to keep this to herself. At least, for a little while.
* * * *
“It’s about time you picked up the phone!” Carrie berated her friend over the wire, but she really felt like hugging her through it. “Where have you been for the past three days?”
“Home,” Daphne replied.
“I was getting ready to come make sure you were still alive,” Carrie scolded. “Why haven’t you picked up the phone? Did you get my messages?”
Of course she’d been worried about just this thing, that Daphne would be scared off, that it would ruin their friendship. And maybe it had, just the mention of it. The thought made Carrie feel physically ill. She’d been feeling that way for days.
“Yeah, I got them,” Daphne admitted. “I just... I guess I’ve just been feeling sorry for myself.”
Uh-oh. So this was it then.
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, because you’ve got Doc, and now you’ve got Wilson lusting after you, and you pretty much just get everything, and what do I get?” Daphne spat bitterly.
Wow.
“Wow.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
Carrie stared at the receiver for a moment. “What do you mean, I have Wilson lusting after me?”
“He came over here the other night and you were all he could talk about.”
“... What?”
“You heard me. You and your temporary tattoo. And it’s not that I blame him—you’re fucking gorgeous, and who wouldn’t lust after you? Hell, even I’ve thought about it. You know I have.”
“Daphne... stop.” Carrie really wished her friend was in front of her, that this conversation had taken place in person instead.
“What?”
She took a deep breath. “Listen, I called you for a rea
son.”
“What reason?”
Might as just well come out with it. “I wanted to invite you to Key West with me for Christmas.”
Daphne was quiet for a long time. “Are you serious?”
“I already bought the ticket so you better say yes.” She’d dipped into her own savings account, the one she’d had since before she and Doc were married.
“Wow.” That was all Daphne could seem to say. “Wow. I mean... wow.”
“Come on, it will be fun. Doc can’t come for a few days, he has to work. It will just be me and you. Well, and Doc’s parents. But we can go shopping and swimming and, hell, we can even swim with dolphins if you want, I don’t care—”
“Shut up,” Daphne replied, laughing. “You had me at shopping.”
“You’ll come?” Carrie’s heart swelled, filling her throat.
“Of course I’ll come! I told you I’d jump at the chance. I’m jumping! This is the best Christmas gift ever. I so need a break.”
Carrie smiled at the phone. “Me, too.”
* * * *
“How many inches?” Carrie twisted the phone cord around her finger, glancing at Daphne sitting on the sofa in the living room. Her friend raised her eyebrows, grinning, and Carrie stifled a laugh. “Oh, Nan, I’m so sorry. When do they think flights will be going out of Boston again?”
“So how many inches?” Daphne used her hands to denote the measurement. “Eight... ten...” The width between her hands got wider, and wider still. “Twelve?”
“Fifteen inches of snow is just crazy,” Carrie agreed, snickering at the shocked look on her friend’s face, the way her hands tried to take that huge measurement. “So they’re saying at least a day? Maybe two?”
“Did they get that kind of snow in Michigan?” Daphne called.
Carrie shook her head, answering Nan. “No, Doc said it was all rain when it went through. They got wet, but no snow... yep, he’ll be here... okay... and where is the Christmas tree stored?”
Daphne got up and wandered into the kitchen, pouring herself more wine while Nan peppered Carrie with questions.
“Oh, Nan, it’s no problem, Daphne and I can decorate it before you all get here... yes, two boxes of presents were delivered yesterday, and we got another notice on the door to pick up some more today... oh, Daphne and I were shopping, so we were out... yes, the weather’s gorgeous... I know, I know... seventy-seven today...”
Carrie answered her mother-in-law, watching Daphne wander around the living room in her black bikini. They’d gone swimming after their shopping trip. Carrie’s hair was wet, her white bikini bottoms still damp.
“So?” Daphne looked at Carrie as she hung up the phone.”Looks like we’re decorating a Christmas tree?”
She nodded. “Looks that way.”
“Well, let’s get our tinsel on!”
The girls went into the storage closet under the stairs and got the artificial tree out, putting it together branch by branch. Nan’s taste in decorations tended toward the tasteful, so the lights were white and blue, as were all the ornaments. By the time they were stringing the white and silver garland, it was around dinner time.
“We’ll have it all decorated by the time Doc gets here,” Carrie said proudly, watching Daphne stretching to put the white star on the top of the tree. She was still in her bikini and it hugged her ass snugly, showing off her curves in all the right places.
“His flight comes in tonight?” Daphne stepped down from the stool and stood back, hands on her hips, red head cocked.
“Yep.”
Daphne picked up her glass of wine, taking a sip. They’d been drinking all afternoon. “Are we picking him up at the airport?”
“He’s taking a shuttle,” Carrie replied. “He doesn’t like me driving at night.”
“He’s so overprotective.” Her friend laughed, rolling her eyes. But then she smiled. “Must be nice.”
“Are you hungry?” Carrie asked. They’d gone shopping that morning to stock the refrigerator and it was full of food.
Daphne’s eyes lit up. “Do we have any of those little chocolate cashews?”
“Such a healthy dinner!” Carrie got them from the top of the refrigerator, opening the canister and handing it over as she came into the living room.
Daphne popped one into her mouth, sucking happily. “God, these are so good.”
“It’s so weird.” Carrie looked up at the tree, shaking her head.
“I know,” Daphne agreed, laughing at the two of them decorating in bikinis. “It feels like Christmas in July.”
“I know what will make it feel like Christmas.”
Daphne watched Carrie as she stretched out on the white carpet. “What are you doing?”
“Come here.” She held a hand out, beckoning Daphne to join her as she wiggled her way under the Christmas tree.
“Weirdo.” Daphne snorted, but she got down on the floor, stretching out on her back beside Carrie. The girls looked up through the branches at the white and blue lights reflecting off the silver and white garland. It was magical.
“Did you used to do this when you were a kid?” Daphne asked.
“Nah, Doc taught me,” Carrie said. “I was lucky if the foster family I was living with had a Christmas tree at all.”
“Damn, I thought my childhood sucked.” Daphne’s hand found hers and she squeezed. “At least my aunt always got me something for Christmas. Of course, she was a hoarder and agoraphobic, so we pretty much had a house full of presents all year round that she ordered from QVC that no one ever got. Except the mice.”
“Jeez.”
“Yeah, it was a fun childhood.” Daphne looked over at her and smiled. The lights shone on her skin, like blue and white tattoos. “But still probably more stable than yours, huh?”
“Probably, “Carrie admitted. She didn’t talk about her childhood much to anyone, even Doc.
“But you sure won the lottery when it came to a husband.”
“I did,” Carrie agreed, meeting her friend’s eyes. “I’m very blessed.”
“Maybe someday I’ll get lucky, too.”
“I hope so. You deserve it.” Carrie stroked her friend’s hand, her wrist, her fingertips just lightly brushing. She felt Daphne shiver. “And in the meantime, maybe I can just share my blessings with you...”
Daphne smiled slowly, slyly. “I had a feeling you might have another agenda when you invited me here.”
“And you came anyway?” she asked, holding her breath.
“I came hoping.”
There was no room under the tree, but somehow they bridged the distance between them, their mouths meeting in a soft caress. The kiss was sweet and gentle and full of promise. They looked at each other under the twinkling lights of the tree and smiled, both of them knowing where things were going.
“I thought we’d get a little head start,” Daphne breathed.
Carrie smiled. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“I’ve got to get the salt water off my skin and out of my hair.” Daphne turned right at the end of the hall, into the bathroom, looking back over her shoulder, the freckles there so kissable it made Carrie’s lips twitch. “Wanna take a shower?”
It was a clear invitation and Carrie took it.
They undressed as Carrie turned on the shower, leaving their bikinis on the floor. Carrie snuck looks at her friend’s body as they busied themselves getting towels and checking the water temperature, pretending they weren’t about to do what they were both contemplating. Doc had been right, Daphne’s nipples were pink, but they weren’t like cherries at all. They were pale and flat, the areolas around them puffy. And Carrie had been right about her being a real redhead—her pubic hair was a dark, wiry auburn, neatly trimmed in a little landing strip.
“Oh, God, that feels so good.” Daphne stepped into the hot shower, steam rising all around her, her head tilting back so she could wet down her red mane, washing her hair. Carrie stood watching, transfixed, as her friend reached for
the soap, beginning with her breasts.
Daphne glanced her way, smiling coyly. “Aren’t you coming in?”
Carrie slipped into the shower, closing the privacy-glass door behind her. The water was warm and felt so good that she found herself moaning, too, dipping her head under the showerhead to get fully wet.
Daphne’s lips touched Carrie’s neck, soapy hands moving over her shoulders and down her arms. She let Daphne run her hands over her body, closing her eyes and losing herself in the sensation. She could feel the press of her friend’s full breasts against her back, the curve and slope of her belly, her fingers brushing over Carrie’s nipples, making them instantly hard.
“Let me wash your hair.” Daphne squeezed shampoo into her hands and massaged Carrie’s scalp, washing the salt out, holding her under the needle-like spray until the water ran clean. She didn’t stop there, though, rubbing the bar of white, moisturizing soap over Carrie’s skin, starting in neutral territory, over her shoulders and down her arms, and then moving to more sensitive areas—her breasts, her belly, and finally, her pussy.
“Oh, my God, it’s so smooth,” Daphne whispered, her eyes widening in surprise and delight as her soapy fingers parted Carrie’s pussy lips.
She smiled. “I shaved it—Doc likes it this way.”
“I don’t shave it all,” Daphne said apologetically, sounding regretful.
“It’s pretty.” Carrie didn’t employ her friend’s careful approach. She cupped Daphne’s mound with her hand, rocking her palm. The redhead moaned and opened her thighs a little wider, her mouth parting with pleasure. She was so kissable that Carrie couldn’t resist pressing her lips to Daphne’s, tongue exploring. Their kiss went on and on, their soapy breasts pressed together, hopelessly soft, fingers probing and petting each other’s pussies.
“Let’s go to bed,” Daphne gasped when they parted, her eyes still half-closed. Carrie could feel the slick proof of her friend’s arousal on her fingers.
The girls got out, reaching for their fluffy white towels, warm under the heat lamps overhead. Daphne sat at the vanity and squeezed the excess water out of her hair with her towel, reaching for the blow dryer. Carrie, watched, toweled herself off, seeing Daphne’s gaze on her in the mirror.
“Sorry, I have to dry it.” Daphne spoke over the hum of the hair dryer, the copper returning to her hair as it dried.