by Selena Kitt
Maybe it had been the messy way things had ended with Maureen that had put her off from trying it again. But the truth was, she was happy with her Doc. She didn’t need anything or anyone else, she reasoned. He was her whole world.
Carrie waved at Daphne as she came out of the bathroom. The girl was dressed for a man-hunt, her red hair a river of lava over the black material of her blouse, which was completely see-through. Her black bra underneath was lacy and showed a lot of cleavage. Her red skirt was short, trimmed in black lace at the hem. And as far as Carrie could tell, she wasn’t wearing any stockings or hose. It made her wonder if her friend had worn those sexy red panties.
Doc leaned over, reminding her, “Hey, we’re still in college.”
“Graduate school doesn’t count.” Carrie pulled out a chair as Daphne approached.
Doc chuckled. “Experimenting ends with an undergraduate diploma? No one told me.”
“Stop.” Carrie poked him in the ribs, smiling as Daphne took a seat in front of the rum and Coke Doc had brought for her. “So, girlie, see anything you like?”
The redhead smiled, her gaze sweeping over Doc, their eyes meeting briefly, before shifting out onto the dance floor. The residents’ Christmas party was a big affair and included interns and other hospital staff as well. They held it at a country club every year, the same country club most of the residents would someday probably belong to, if they stayed and practiced as doctors there.
“Lots of potential,” Daphne mused, sipping her drink. “But I’m picky.”
“You can afford to be.” Doc winked as he paid her the compliment, standing and picking up his glass. “I’m gonna get myself another shot. Anyone want anything?”
“Hey, who’s driving home?” Carrie inquired, tugging on his suit coat as he passed.
“Wilson.” Doc nodded toward the bar. “He’s the teetotaler.”
“Who’s Wilson?” Daphne asked, following his gaze.
“Come on.” Doc held out his hand. “I’ll introduce you.”
“No, Daph, come dance with me first.” Carrie was as surprised as anyone else at the words out of her mouth, but she had Daphne’s other hand in hers and was pulling her friend toward the dance floor before Doc could verbally protest. But he did raise his eyebrows at the sight of them putting their arms around each other and grinding to the music.
“Who’s Wilson?” Daphne asked again as they moved together. Carrie felt a stirring in her groin as her friend wrapped silky arms around her neck. The smell of Daphne’s perfume was heady, and the feel of her body, all softness and curves, brought back memories that made Carrie’s knees tremble.
“See the guy with the ponytail, talking to Doc?” Carrie’s hands went to her friend’s waist. The black material of her blouse moved over the silken skin underneath and she found herself thinking about those red panties again. “That’s Wilson. See that blond over there? The one dancing?”
Daphne craned her neck. “The green dress?”
Carrie nodded. “That’s his ex. She’s a resident here too.”
“She looks like a ballbuster.” Daphne smirked, her hips moving to Prince’s Little Red Corvette as if they had a mind of their own.
“She dumped him for that guy she’s with.”
“The Ken doll?” Daphne made a face at the tall, blond Adonis that Camille was dancing with. “Why’d they break up?”
“He told her he wanted kids some day.”
“Oh.” Daphne nodded sagely. “She didn’t?”
“Oh no, she did.” Carrie moved her mouth closer to the shell of Daphne’s ear. “She just said she didn’t want him to be their father.”
“Oh my god.” Daphne pulled back, all wide-eyes.
“Yeah.” Carrie glared in Camille’s direction. “Said she was looking for better genetic material.”
“What’s wrong with Wilson?” Daphne glanced back to the bar where Doc and Wilson were talking about something, laughing together.
“Nothing. He’s brilliant. Top of his class.”
“Ahead of Doc?”
Carrie smirked. “Tied.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Well.” Carrie shrugged. “Look at him.”
“What? I think he’s kind of cute.”
“If you can get past the piercings,” she reminded her. “And the tattoos.”
Daphne’s eyes brightened. “He has tattoos?”
“Several.”
“Where?”
Carrie couldn’t help laughing at her friend’s enthusiasm. “I’m sure he’d be happy to show you.”
“Come on, let’s go back.” Daphne practically pulled her to the table where Doc and Wilson were now sitting.
Doc was quick to make their introductions. “Wilson, this is our friend Daphne.”
“Hi.” Wilson nodded. “Daphne. That’s an unusual name.”
“So’s Wilson.” She slid into the seat beside him, next to Carrie.
“It’s my last,” he admitted. “But it’s better than my first.” He turned to her, that curious Wilson look on his face. Carrie knew it well. “So were you named after Daphne Odjig?”
“The artist?” The redhead rolled her eyes, but Carrie saw the spark in Wilson’s at her recognition of the name. How many people knew Daphne Odjig? Maybe it was a match made in heaven after all. “I wish. My parents were far less cultured. I was named after the Scooby-Doo character.”
Wilson laughed. “Well it’s still better than being named after a dead philosopher.”
“Socrates?” Daphne guessed.
“Nope.”
“Plato?”
Wilson shook his head. “Aristotle.”
Daphne’s eyes went wide. “My apologies.”
“That’s why they call me Wilson.” He took a sip of his Coke, smiling around the straw.
“So I hear you’re the designated driver?” Daphne asked.
“I don’t drink,” he told her. “It’s more fun to watch other people get drunk.”
Daphne lifted her rum and Coke to him. “Well then you’re in for a treat tonight.”
“Cheers.” Wilson laughed as they clinked glasses and Carrie watched them, feeling a lump growing in her throat and a tight ball of fire in her belly. She knew the feeling immediately, although it surprised her beyond words. She was actually jealous.
“Dance with me.” Doc pulled her into his arms on the floor, leaving Wilson and Daphne alone at the table. It was a slow song and they swayed together, quiet. Finally, Doc leaned over and whispered, “You can have her.”
Carrie startled, raising her gaze to his. “What are you talking about?”
“Green isn’t your color.” He pulled her closer, nuzzling his face against her hair. “Don’t tell me you’re not. I know that look. You’re jealous.”
“I am—” Not, she thought, but she couldn’t say it, because she knew he was right. “Does it really matter?”
“Of course it does.” Doc tilted her chin up and their movement slowed to practically nothing. He looked at and talked to her like they were alone, as if they were the only ones out there on the dance floor. “I see the way you look at her. You think I’m bored with you, that I’m pushing my own agenda, but I’m not. It’s you, Carrie. You want something else. Something that includes more than just me.”
“I don’t—” She shook her head, confused, resting her cheek against his chest, feeling the steady beat of her husband’s heart. Was he right? Things had been difficult between them at times lately, far more tense than ever. She’d been short and angry, more of the “nagging wife” she swore she’d never be. She’d even asked him on occasion what was wrong with her. Doc just kissed her and held her and told her he loved her.
But things had started falling apart like this right about the time she’d met Daphne. That couldn’t just be a coincidence—could it?
“Trust me.” His lips pressed against her ear. “I know you better than you know yourself.”
And she knew that was true.
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“I love you.” She closed her eyes and let that dizzy feeling take her as they danced, spinning on the floor, letting him lead, always.
Carrie spent the rest of the night watching her friend fall for Wilson, trying to drown her jealousy with Fuzzy Navels. When that didn’t work, she switched to Seven and Sevens, and by the time they made the announcement for last call, she was doing shots of Cuervo Gold.
Doc practically carried her to the car and she rode the whole way home listening to Wilson and Daphne laughing and talking about The Violent Femmes in the front seat like teenagers, comparing music collections and remembering first concerts.
“You sure you remember where you live?” Carrie asked, leaning forward to ask Daphne, who was giggling in the front seat as they neared Carrie and Doc’s apartment.
Her friend laughed. “Well if I can’t, maybe Wilson has room for me at his place?”
“Sure.” Wilson smiled, easing his Camaro up to the curb outside their apartment. Carrie felt Doc’s arm tighten around her waist.
“Goodnight you guys.” Carrie pushed the door open and got out, Doc following close behind.
“Talk to you tomorrow!” Daphne waggled her fingers through the window and then Wilson was pulling away, leaving them alone.
Carrie swallowed the bitterness in her throat. “Think Wilson is gonna find out if she’s wearing her red panties?”
Doc unlocked the front door. “Lucky bastard.”
“Hey, I’m not wearing any panties at all,” she announced, peeling off her coat and letting it drop to the floor.
“Brat.” He grinned and she pressed herself up against him as the door closed, sliding his coat off too.
“You could see right through her top,” she whispered, nuzzling his neck, feeling his cock pressed against her hip, already hard.
“I noticed.”
She smiled, sliding her hand down to rub him through his trousers.“I noticed you noticing.”
“How come we never do stuff like that anymore?” His hand was wandering too, checking to see if she’d been fibbing about her pantiless condition and finding that she’d been telling the truth.
“Mmmmm.” She rocked as he cupped her smooth, shaved mound. “Like what?”
His fingers teased her clit. “Like we did in college.”
“You want to do that again?” She got down on her knees, unzipping his slacks and pulling him out. “You’d like to see both of us down here on our knees sucking your cock, wouldn’t you, baby?”
He groaned.
“Two pussies to fuck,” she whispered, licking around the head, slapping him lightly against her cheeks. “Two mouths to suck on you.” She sucked him gently, pretending she was fighting over his cock with some girl. Not just some girl, but Daphne. God, that thought made her so wet. She glanced up at him, seeing the light in his eyes. “Two hot little assholes to fuck.”
He threw his head back, moaning. “I bet she’s never had a cock in her ass.”
“And I bet she’s a redhead all over,” she added, standing up to kiss him, tugging his dick in her hand.
“You want to lick that little pink pussy, don’t you, baby?” His tongue twined with hers, his hips moving in rhythm. “She’d taste so good in your mouth while I fucked you from behind.”
“Oh Doc…” Her ass clenched, imagining it, seeing Daphne’s face buried between her legs, getting fucked good and hard from behind, her soft moans and each thrust driving her forward into Carrie’s wet flesh. “Oh my god…”
“Tell me.” His fingers found her again under her skirt, slipping into her wetness. “Tell me you want that little pussy all over your face.”
“I do,” she admitted, her whole body energized with the thought. “Oh god, I haven’t tasted a pussy in so long.”
“Here.” He lifted his fingers to her mouth, making her take them, suck them. “Lick it off. Taste your pussy.”
She grabbed his hand, using her tongue to get every last drop, dipping between each finger. It left a thick coating in her throat that just made her want even more. She found herself wishing they’d invited Daphne to spend the night. What would they have done with her, she wondered? What wouldn’t they have done? But would Daphne have been open to it?
“Think she’d let me lick her little pussy?” Carrie wondered out loud.
He pressed her toward the bedroom, turning on the light, never taking his fingers out of her wet pussy. “Are you kidding me? Have you seen the way she looks at you?”
“No…” She let him push her back onto the bed, shoving her dress up over her hips, his fingers pistoning in and out of her, the hot squelch of her pussy filling the room. “How does she look at me?”
“Like she wants to eat you up.” He knelt at the side of the bed, spreading her legs and rubbing his cheek over her soft, swollen pussy lips. “Like she worships you. Like she’s starving for you.”
“Really?” She thrilled at the thought, wondering if it was true. Did Daphne want her as much as she wanted Daphne? Because she did, in her secret heart—she knew there was nothing she wanted more than to be with her best friend. She’d probably wanted her from the beginning, but hadn’t been willing to admit it.
“She wants you almost as much as I want you.” He sucked her labia into his mouth, teasing her, not going near her clit. His tongue made sweet inroads through the wet, pink folds of her flesh, growing nearer but taking his time. “I’d love to watch you lick her. See her climb up on top of you and sit on your face.”
She moaned, feeling his tongue nudge her clit on the way by. “God. She’s got such a hot little body. Those gorgeous tits.”
“Mmmm.” He flicked his tongue against her clit for a moment, a brief flutter, before heading downward again. “I bet she’s got little cherries for nipples.”
It was driving her crazy just thinking about it. “Oh yes, yes,” she whispered, grabbing his hair, guiding him back up to her clit. It was throbbing. “Lick me, baby.”
“Just like Daphne would?” He stabbed his tongue at her, making it hard, a blissful assault. “Show her what you like, baby. Make her lick your cunt.”
She grabbed his ears and shoved her hips up, moaning loudly as she began to grind her hips in circles. She was imagining it—her hands wrapped up in her friend’s long, red hair, Daphne’s tongue mashed against Carrie’s wet pussy, their breath hot, nipples hard, pussies soaking wet. Carrie imagined Daphne sitting on her face, the soft grind of her hips, the taste of pussy, oh god, that taste in her mouth, down her throat…
“Make me come, Daphne!” she cried, bucking up against the lash of Doc’s tongue, all the while imagining her friend’s mouth against her clit. “Oh fuck, make me come for you!”
Her orgasm hit like a bolt of lightning, the convulsions little shockwaves, her pussy clamping down against the thrust of his fingers again and again. She rode her climax off the edge of the bed, shivering and collapsing onto the floor next to her husband, letting him enfold her, kiss her, caress her, as she came back to reality.
“Such a good girl.” He kissed her cheek, her chin, getting up and lifting her onto the bed. “Why do you always deny yourself? You can have everything you want.”
She closed her eyes, shook her head, but he was kissing her open, his tongue probing, his cock hard against her hip. Somewhere along the way, his trousers had come off.
“You can’t have everything,” she murmured, letting him lift her dress over her head. “No one can have everything.”
“You can,” he assured her, taking her nipple into his mouth. The feeling sent heated waves of pleasure all through her body. “I’d give you anything. You know I would.”
She worked the buttons on his shirt—his suit coat and tie had disappeared too, lost somewhere on the floor with his pants and boxers, she imagined—spreading it open so she could run her hands over his chest. He was so nicely built, and the fact that he took advantage of the gym at the hospital whenever he got a break—to relax, he said—didn’t hurt.
&nb
sp; That made her remember what Daphne said about already finding the best husband in the world. The fact was, she had. But he was perfect for her, not for everyone else. And did she really want to share him?
“You could make it happen, you know.” He peeled his shirt off and moved to her other nipple, tracing lazy circles.
She let her fingers glide through his dark curls. “You mean… me and Daphne?”
“You and Daphne,” he agreed, nipping at her, making her squeak in high-pitched surprise. “You, me and Daphne. Whatever you wanted.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “What if I don’t want it?”
“I think you do.” He reminded her by spreading her legs and sliding his cock against her soaked cleft, her cum still wetting her thighs where she’d been imagining her best friend getting her off just moments before.
“It’s a nice fantasy, I admit.” She smiled, feeling his cock swelling, the head of it pressed against her opening. “But reality might be disappointing. Look what happened with Maureen.”
He shifted his hips and slid inside her. “We had a good time until she decided to get religion.”
“She made a commitment to her husband, remember?” She wrapped her legs and arms around him, going for an easy, gentle ride as he began to move.
“But if her husband had said, hey, it’s okay if you and your girlfriend play around, what then?” he asked, his breathing coming faster in her ear.
“The real world doesn’t work that way.”
He poised himself above her, his eyes searching hers. “We get to define the real world. Our world. Any way we want.”
“I’m just scared of what might happen,” she confessed, rocking up against his cock.
“Then we don’t have to do anything.” He kissed the tip of her nose, beginning to fuck her again. “We can just fantasize about it. Which is almost as much fun.”
She smiled, closing her eyes. “Almost.”
“Where do you want her?” He pushed her legs back, kneeling up between them. “How about down here, licking your little clit?”