by Brit M.
The tension couldn't last forever. She checked her phone, saw it was five minutes until six, and tucked her bag next to her in the booth again. Any moment they would arrive in the flesh, these men who wanted to meet her. It was their anniversary, supposedly, but she wondered which. One year? Five? Ten? That would make a difference, she suspected, in how serious this whole affair might be. She didn't want to somehow come between a couple who'd been together for a long time.
Caught up in her imaginings, she almost missed them when they came around the corner into the main area of the restaurant. Her breath stuck in her chest for a moment. They were chatting with each other, eyes skimming the room as they followed the hostess. Paul saw her first, raised one dark eyebrow, and lifted his hand in greeting. She waved back. Adrian responded with a grin and a flip of his own fingers, barely a wave and more of a “wait one minute, I'll be there.”
Marissa sipped her wine, wiped her buttery fingers on her napkin, and considered whether or not it was proper to stand and say hello. Men did when a woman came up, but was she supposed to?
Apparently not, as Adrian stepped ahead of Paul, leaned over her, and gave her a peck on the cheek. Up close, his eyes were very blue, almost a lavender color. She felt herself blushing and managed a quiet, “Hello.”
“Hi there,” he said, finally leaning back from his close scrutiny.
Paul put out his hand and she moved to shake it, but he caught her fingers and lifted them to kiss her knuckles like a courtier. Now she was sure her face was bright red.
“Good evening,” he said.
“It's nice to meet you,” she said. She was glad it didn't come out as a squeak.
The two of them took the booth seat opposite her, Adrian on the inside and Paul on the outside.
“I'm left-handed,” Paul explained. “Have to be careful of who sits where or it's an elbow fiasco.”
“Ah,” Marissa said, smiling. “My mother is a lefty, so I understand.”
A beat of silence settled as they looked each other over. Marissa welcomed the moment to breathe. Paul had on a silky dark green shirt with the top two buttons undone and Adrian was wearing a cute jacket that fit tightly over a plain white shirt with a scoop neck. He looked almost yuppie, but the floppy blond hair in disarray and the grin said he was anything but.
“So,” Paul said.
“You said you were shy?” Adrian finished.
She cleared her throat and took a sip of wine to wet her suddenly dry mouth. “Well, I'm not—I don't usually—oh, hell.”
Paul laughed, but it wasn't at her so much as with her. His partner smiled.
“I've been very busy,” she said. “I just received my doctoral degree and got a teaching position at the university. Let's just say that when you're trying to get your Ph.D. you don't spend a lot of time dating, or exploring, or anything. Just reading and writing.”
“Ooh, a professor,” Adrian said.
“Down, boy,” Paul muttered, prompting a laugh from Marissa.
She was relieved at how her heartbeat had slowed and she didn't feel like she was going to pass out, now that they were really here. They seemed normal, cute, friendly. That was a relief. She'd been afraid they would be overbearing, or it would be too immediately sexual, or something else would go wrong.
“Well, we've been together for three years now,” Adrian said. “And both of us like women, too, and have been with girls in the past, so we decided it might be nice to—as you said, explore a little.”
“Because we're comfortable enough to,” Paul said, his fingers clasping Adrian's briefly on the tabletop.
Marissa glanced down at her drink. It was very intimate, personal, and reminded her this was a happy couple, and she wasn't part of them, no matter what they were going to do together.
“My best friend insisted on me finally coming out of my shell,” Marissa confessed. “I've only dated boring guys, and I don't have much real, um, experience.”
“Ah,” Paul said, and the word held a world of meaning. “Boring like vanilla and bland?”
“Yes,” she said, lifting her bread for another bite to distract herself from the embarrassment of talking about her old sex life with two strange men—and being honest about how lackluster it was.
“Which means you're exploring more than a little bit,” Adrian said, leaning forward a bit. “I don't mind—”
The waitress arrived and interrupted whatever else he'd been about to say. He sat back again with a smile and ordered an appetizer, some kind of fried cheese, along with drinks for himself and Paul. Marissa asked for water in addition to her wine.
“I guess we should look at the menu and decide what we want so we have time to chat over dinner,” Paul said.
Marissa picked hers up and glanced over it. The choices were almost overwhelming; there was so much food that all sounded so good. She eventually settled on a chicken dish with wine sauce and pasta. The prices almost made her wince, but she reminded herself she had a nice new salary twice the size of anything she'd made before getting her real job with her real degree. She could afford it, if just for tonight.
“You know I'm a professor. What do you guys do?” she asked when they seemed finished with their perusal of the menu.
“I'm in accounting,” Adrian said.
“I paint,” Paul said. He ducked his chin, a boyish and adorable gesture. “And I sell art. I work in a gallery most of the week, selling other people's stuff, but I've done a show or two of my own also.”
“Wow,” she said. “An artist! That's great.”
“Yeah, accounting is boring, isn't it?” Adrian said, pulling a moue of discontent.
She grinned at him. “I'm sorry. Art's more interesting than teaching, too.”
A moment later Marissa nearly jumped out of her seat when a cool, bare foot brushed against her calf—her breath seemed to speed a fraction and heat flushed down her body. Footsie, really? Both men were grinning, so she couldn't quite tell who it was. Whoever it was, he brushed his foot down the front of her leg in a teasing carress. It was dim enough in the restaurant that she doubted anyone could see under the booth.
“All right,” she said with a hint of breathlessness. “Who's that?”
To her surprise, Paul raised his hand and Adrian cast him a playful look. “It's a date, isn't it?” Paul said.
“We've been here for fifteen minutes, Paul,” Adrian replied. “And you're already making her uncomfortable.”
“Oh, I'm not uncomfortable,” she managed, almost whispering.
Adrian reached over the table and took her hand in his, fingers playing down her wrist until they locked around it. Paul's foot traced up the opposite side of her leg, ticklish soft.
“I just want to be on the same page,” Adrian murmured, his stare so intense it made her tremble a bit inside. “I'm thinking about what you look like with that dress off, and so is Paul. It's a little different than a regular date, isn't it, shy girl?”
She let out a shaky sigh, her eyelids fluttering. The heat in her body seemed to be coalescing between her legs. Public—this was so public. And she liked it. She liked his fingers cuffing her wrist and the fact that anyone could look over and wonder what they were doing, what they were talking about.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Not so shy,” he murmured, leaning further over the table.
She met him halfway in a quick kiss, just a brush of mouths that left her aching for more. He sat back and so did she, her eyes drifting over to Paul, who had watched with a mysterious smile. His foot disappeared when the waitress returned with the appetizer and they placed their orders.
“You look flushed,” he said finally. Adrian sipped his drink and smiled.
“Should I tally everything that I like? Keep a running list?” she said. “Because that—was good. I liked that.”
“A little dominance, a little exhibition, huh?” Adrian said. He shivered visibly, perhaps on purpose. “I think this might be a perfect match.”
; “It's odd,” Paul said before she had to find a way to reply. “This is something in between a date and a—negotiation, isn't it?”
“That's a good word, negotiation,” she said.
“Not only do we figure out if we like each other, which I think we do so far,” Adrian clarified. “We get to figure out if the sex we're discussing is going to work out well for all involved.”
“It's weird,” she said. “I've never talked about sex on a first date before. Or made a date with the, well, intent to talk about it.”
“It's a little weird for me, too,” Paul admitted.
“See, you're both vanilla compared to me. I used to be in the BDSM scene. Negotiating boundaries, desires, rules and all that is pretty normal,” Adrian said.
Marissa blinked at him, surprised. “What was that like?”
“Well,” he said coyly. “Maybe I can show you, if we decide to go further.”
“Oh,” she said, almost a rush of breath instead of a word.
“I'm curious,” Paul said. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but how did you never manage to figure out what you liked? You're almost Adrian's age, and he spent his early twenties on his back, I think.”
Adrian smirked. “Not always on my back, dear, I'll remind you. You think you're such a top.”
Paul rolled his eyes, and Marissa paused to think. “I'm not exaggerating when I say I was too busy. I worked full time to put myself through school, then there was school itself, and I just had no time. I didn't even hang out with friends. Really the only one I still have from my student days is Lita, and she was in Europe for the past two years.”
“Again, if you don't want to answer, don't, but how many men have you been with?”
Marissa had to look at her hands and lock her fingers together. Now she was embarrassed. A year ago she would have been horrified to be in this situation, but this time, she was only humiliated by how little experience she had compared to them. They were going to think of her like a kid, she was sure.
“Two,” she said finally.
“Two, ever?” Adrian asked, sounding incredulous.
“Hush,” Paul cut him off. “She said she was new to this, and shy, so don't rub it in.”
“Thanks,” she said, a bit shaky.
“Didn't you ever get lonely?” Adrian pushed.
She looked up then, and he had the most honest look on his face. He wasn't making fun, he was serious. “Well, of course, but I had to get my life in order before I could make room for anyone else in it.”
“Makes sense,” he said.
“If it makes you feel any better, he's both younger than me and about three times as experienced,” Paul said, gesturing at his partner.
“It does, actually,” she said with a smile.
The food arrived, interrupting their conversation, and silence reigned for the first few minutes as they began to eat. Marissa's head was swimming with thoughts and all of this knowledge. They seemed genuinely interested, and the still insistent desire kindled in her wasn't going away, either.
“Is it too early in the date to say that I think I'd like to—to do that weekend with you?” she asked, quiet.
“Not too early,” Paul said, meeting her eye. “I was afraid whoever answered the ad would be brash, or demanding, or just not my type. Adrian will put up with more for a pretty face than I will, even for a weekend. But you're perfect.”
“I like you, too,” Adrian said. “I was a shy guy once. So I can help a shy girl out. From what I can tell, you've got a lot of need bundled up in you, and I think we can help you figure out what you want.”
“And he finds being someone's first—at anything—exciting. Doesn't matter if it's sex or, or…” Paul trailed off.
“Rock climbing,” Adrian finished. “I made you go rock climbing, and you liked it.”
“He has a bit of an ego,” Paul said.
“How about, when dinner's done, we do one more thing?” Adrian suggested.
The look Paul gave him made Marissa burst into surprised giggles. It was suspicion, love, and wary acceptance all rolled into one. Yes, these were the perfect men to spend a sexual awakening with; they were considerate, not crude, and didn't seem to be like panting fraternity-boy dogs. A worry she hadn't even noticed consciously—that the men she met would look down on her for meeting them at all, for wanting them—flitted away.
“What?” Paul finally asked,.
“A movie,” he said.
“A movie?” Marissa repeated, confused.
“Well…”
Paul rolled his eyes. “I can finish this one. It's dark, it's enclosed, it's sexy, but it's public enough to feel safe. So we can fool around and make a final vote on whether you want us.”
“Oh, that kind of movie,” she said with something like a laugh.
“I'm good at being discreet in the dark,” Adrian replied with a wag of his eyebrows that was patently ridiculous.
She dissolved into another fit of snickers. “All right,” she said. “I'd like that.”
“Movies it is,” Paul said. “For fooling around like teenagers.”
He was trying to fake disdain, but he sounded too amused and intrigued to manage it. Marissa grinned at them both, because to be honest, she felt the same. Something about these two just clicked with her, which was probably for the best for sex, but maybe not for her heart, since she knew once their weekend together was over, she wouldn't be a part of their lives.
A preemptive twinge settled in her chest as she chased away the worry.
Chapter Four
Their red sporty sedan was easy to follow to the local theater. Marissa had a small box of leftovers tucked away in the backseat that she hoped would keep through the film, and whatever happened during it. A jittery, aroused tension flowed through her body. She'd done the movies-and-making-out thing in high school, with her early boyfriends, and remembered it as being both naughty and cute. It was exciting, definitely. Where would she sit? In between them, or on one side?
She thought she'd best let them guide her, since they were the couple and she the guest. They might prefer to sit together. Honestly, she was happy with either arrangement, but it was a little odd to be so aware of their connection to each other and how it did and didn't include her. Sexually, it seemed, she was a welcome part. But they also had moments of tenderness and obvious knowledge of each other that excluded her, and she knew that if this date went well and they set up their weekend of fun, it was just that: a weekend. Temporary.
“Damn it,” she muttered at herself as they parked in the theater. “I am not going to psyche myself out of this.”
So what if it was temporary? That wasn't something she'd ever tried, after all; sex with someone who wasn't her significant other and never would be. Lita seemed to like it with no strings attached, and it was something worth trying anyway, especially if it meant getting to have a roll in the hay with Adrian and Paul, who were so handsome it hurt to look at them together.
Marissa climbed out of her car and adjusted her dress as they came over to escort her. One took each arm, Paul's hand a gentle brush on her wrist as he hooked his elbow with hers, Adrian's a firmer grip. She almost swooned as the sudden press of them on either side of her. That answered the question of where she would be.
“You're so responsive,” Adrian murmured into her ear. He was closer to her height than Paul, she noticed. “I like it.”
“You like a lot of things,” she replied.
“That he does,” Paul said, grinning at them.
His arm lined up with hers was a pretty contrast as she glanced down to make sure she didn't trip in her heels in the rough parking lot. Her paleness against his dark skin reminded her of the pictures of Paul and Adrian together, bodies pressed tight. She had a brief image of the three of them with Paul in the center, like an art photo, all beautiful contrasts.
They did make it inside without incident, and they let her go at the ticket line when it became impossible to escort her
one on each side. She stood at the front, chilly in the theater in her dress. The air conditioning was up entirely too high for her tastes, like a refrigerator.
“Would you like my jacket?” Adrian asked, already unbuttoning it.
“Thanks,” she said with relief as the line moved forward, towing them along with it. She slipped the dark jacket on, inhaling a whiff of his musky cologne, and gave up buttoning it when she realized it would be impossible over even her modestly sized breasts.
“It doesn't match but it still looks nice,” he said after a moment's glance.
“And I'm warm now,” she said.
“Yeah,” Paul muttered to her under his breath. “We'll make sure you stay that way, won't we, Adrian?”
“Oh, we certainly will.”
Marissa held in a pleasant shiver and kept following the line's movement to the counter. Paul snagged the tickets with his credit card before she could offer to pay for hers, and she didn't protest. After all, they'd invited her to the movies, and she'd paid her own dinner, mostly because she'd insisted. It didn't seem fair to make them treat her, not yet, not with the possible trajectory of their simple relationship to each other.
The theater room was dim with previews playing when they wandered into their movie—a dark drama, if she recalled the commercials for it correctly. Adrian, in front, led them to the back row and gestured Paul and Marissa ahead of him. She bit her lip to try to control a sudden surge of lust at the realization that they had, as she wanted and suspected, put her in the middle. She took her seat and shifted, thighs pressing together for a split second of delicious friction as she got comfortable. She hugged the jacket tighter to inhale Adrian's cologne again.
The movie began almost as soon as they settled in. Marissa settled with her hands crossed over her stomach, a sudden rush of nervous, shy tension coiling in her to combat the arousal. What was going to happen here? Did she want it to happen? She thought so.