by Trent Evans
“So you’ve got some business on the side ponying up half of your down payment?”
“Not my business, but I’m a partner in it.”
Keihl picked up his scotch and swigged a large gulp, wincing at the burn. “When were you going to tell me about this side business?”
“Didn’t think you’d react well to it. Just being careful.”
“’React well’? Damn, Tom. You think I’m some kind of head case or something? What is this Trust? Ven cap? REIT?”
“It’s more of a society, actually. Hard to explain. If you can be patient, I’ll clear things up a bit.”
“Don’t know why you’re being so evasive, but whatever. I have all night if need be.”
Tom put a hand on Keihl’s shoulder. “Good.”
He walked to the slider, then looked back at Keihl. “I need to go grab something real quick. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Take your time,” Keihl said, waving a hand.
Tom disappeared into the house.
Keihl wondered what the hell his friend was into. If he was going to tell him he was moving blow on the side or something, then tonight’s visit might have to be cut a little short. Maybe, maybe not.
The quiet of the backyard was soothing, the complete lack of the background noise of civilization still somehow unsettling. He’d quickly get used to it, given half the chance.
“Hey, sorry about that,” Tom said, walking back out. “Here, this is for you.”
He handed Keihl a small package wrapped in expensive silver and blue patterned paper.
“Sharon wanted me to extract a promise from you not to open this until the baby is born.”
“Uh, okay. Sure.” Keihl held the package a moment, trying to decide what it might be. The size and weight was consistent with a book. Maybe it was a copy of Dr. Spock?
“Just leave it on the table,” Tom said, noting Keihl’s confused look. “I’ll have Sharon put it in the car for you later.”
“So are we going to actually see Sharon tonight, or is she on some top secret hide-from-Keihl mission?”
“Soon,” Tom said, moving to the table and sitting down again. He waved Keihl over. “Dinner’s going to be out here, so we might as well sit.”
“I feel like I’m at Mass. Stand up, sit down, stand up—”
“Asshole.”
Keihl grinned, then sipped his whiskey.
“Do you remember Jacqueline?” Tom asked.
“No, should I?”
“Come on. Jackie. You don’t remember her?”
“Hmm, that’s not the broad — sorry, girl — you dated before we moved to the bigger house, is it? Sophomore year?”
“You do remember then.” Tom’s smile brightened, softening the normally craggy face, and hard jaw. His chin was showing the blue of stubble he’d never allow while at work.
“Damn man, it’s been what, ten years? What made you think of her?”
Keihl wondered what the fuck his friend was doing bringing up some piece of ass he’d had back in college, when his wife might show up any minute. Not too swift.
But Tom ignored him.
“How long were you standing there before you said something that night?”
Keihl was taking a sip as Tom asked the question, and he almost spit the alcohol out through his nose. The intense burn brought tears to his eyes.
“Fuck.” Keihl rubbed his nose, his eyes squinting. “What do you — damn that hurt.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Tom said, chuckling.
The truth was Keihl needed a moment. He was stalling.
All those years ago, he’d jiggled the keys in the front door extra loudly, and waited three beats before walking in that night. It was their mutually agreed to signal, just in case one of them had a girl over and they happened to be in flagrante delicto. Two people living in a single studio apartment necessitated such measures.
“I wasn’t — look, Tom.” Keihl rubbed at his watering eyes. “I wasn’t standing there ogling you two, if that’s what you mean.”
“Sure you were.”
Keihl opened his mouth, then shut it, seeing a cool glee in Tom’s eyes.
“Hell, I didn’t blame you,” Tom said. “She was a good girl. A very good girl.”
Keihl remembered standing there, absolutely dumbfounded, his cock hardening almost instantly. A naked young woman crouched on her knees, her head down, pressed to the mattress of the fold-out bed of one of their couches. It was actually Keihl’s, but at the time his brain didn’t have the processing power to notice. Instead, it was trying to cope with the sight before him.
Her long raven hair was entwined in Tom’s fist. The girl’s ass was a bright pink, numerous red hand prints and darker marks visible over the flushed background. Tom’s bare buttocks flexed and relaxed as he knelt over her, pounding into the wet sex. The slick sounds of her soaked pussy, the slap of his hips against her ass, and her repeated moans filled the late-night stillness of the apartment.
The fact that Tom had spanked the girl’s ass hadn’t been the thing that stunned Keihl — though it was eye-opening, to say the least.
No, what had stunned him was the fact that the girl’s arms were bound together at the small of her back with garish, multicolored cloth, and she’d been blindfolded with her own dark cotton stockings.
“Christ, with your grandma’s scarves? I still can’t believe it.”
Tom burst out laughing, his face reddening. “God, if she’d only known what use they’d be put to.”
“Sick fuck.”
“Whatever, Keihl. You stood there and watched us!”
He could feel his cheeks heat, and his technique for masking embarrassment in depositions — thinking of another completely different subject — was failing him miserably.
He’d stood there longer than he wanted to admit. He remembered the rushing sound in his ears, warring with the urgency of the girl’s cries as she came, the grunting of Tom as he ground his hips against her, pouring himself into the clutch of the girl’s pussy.
“Hey, I was just shocked that’s all.” Keihl looked away, the embarrassment as fresh as it had been ten years earlier. Embarrassment… and something more.
“Look, I’m sorry. Not trying to fuck with you here. There is an actual point to this.”
“Can we get to it?”
He wished fervently that Sharon would show up and provide a welcome distraction from his mortification.
“Keihl, it’s totally okay. You know that, right?”
“Dude, let’s not talk about this. So I walked in on you fucking some chick. You’ve embarrassed me all over again about it. Happy, you prick?”
Tom laughed once more, holding up a hand. “Wait, wait. I want to know something though.”
Keihl grimaced. “Wonderful.”
“Did you think she was attractive?”
“Tom, why in God’s name are we talking about this?”
Keihl snapped a deliberate glance at the sliding glass doors.
“Just hang in there with me,” Tom said, his eyes bright.
“Okay, yeah. Fine. She was hot. So what?”
“Why?”
What the fuck!
“What do you think, Tom? Is this some sort of competition? Look, you had hotter chicks in school. Pre-med, remember?”
“Pre-law”, Tom said, pointing back at Keihl.
“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong. I don’t really care who had the best pussy though. You win, congratulations.”
“That’s not what I mean. Take a breath and listen for a minute.” Tom’s voice dropped lower. “Did you like what we were doing?”
“Tom.” Keihl sipped the whiskey, feeling the warmth of it all through his body by then. “Yeah, I like to fuck women. Earth shattering news, I know. Point?”
“You’re dodging. Have you ever tied up Kirsten? Spanked her?”
Whoa.
Of all the directions he’d expected the conversation to take, this wasn’t even in the same zip code.
“Uhh.” His cheeks heated again, and he thought about leaving. But there was a reason he was blushing. “You sure you want to talk about this? I mean is Sharon cool with what we’re talking about?”
“Sharon’s cool with anything. Anything at all.”
“Okay, so I really don’t know where you’re going with this—”
“More booze?”
“Gallons, please.”
Tom plucked the glass from Keihl’s hand. “Sit tight.”
Then he disappeared back into the house.
Whatever Tom was getting at, the evening was taking a decided turn for the surreal. They’d talked about women before, sure — especially in college. But they’d never talked about that night for some reason. Keihl was glad they hadn’t because seeing that girl — he had to keep reminding himself her name was Jackie — on that bed just… changed something within him. He’d never talked about it with Tom, but he remembered that night vividly.
It was the night he first realized he wasn’t a total freak.
“Here.” Tom set the bottle down on the table. Twenty year old scotch.
“Nice choice. Little spendy though, don’t ya think?”
“Nothing but the best for my friend.” Tom clapped Keihl on the back and sat down once more, nursing his own glass. “So, there is a method to my madness.”
“Um hmm.”
Keihl licked the sweet and bitter from his lips, suspecting that with just one more drink he’d be fairly well-oiled. It looked unlikely he’d be making it home by ten after all. He thought of the luscious curves of Kirsten’s ass. He’d like to take his hand to them the way Tom had done with Jackie.
Where the fuck did that come from, Pervy McPerverson?
The booze.
He set his glass down, and leaned back, inhaling deeply. “Better slow down.”
“Dinner’s almost ready. We’ll get some food in you here. Fix you up.”
“Not sure that’s going to be enough.”
Tom smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “If not, you can crash here. I’m sure Kirsten won’t mind.”
She’d probably be out like a light by the time he got back anyway. Would he rather get home early and get laid? Well, hell yeah, but he hadn’t thought of that until he’d gotten himself halfway to plastered.
Genius.
“Have you?” Tom tipped the last of his whiskey into his mouth, a finger canted at Keihl.
“Huh?”
Tom lowered his chin. “You know, with Kirsten?”
“Well, let’s see. No.”
“Would you like to? Be honest.”
“Fuck, Tom. Yeah.”
He caught the slight relaxation of Tom’s broad shoulders. It was subtle, but it was there.
“Good, good.” Tom patted the wood of the table. “That’s a start then.”
Keihl heard the slider door open, the sound of footsteps on the deck, and the metallic sound of… chain? Tom looked over Keihl’s shoulder at something behind him.
“Sir, could you give me a hand?”
Keihl stayed seated, but turned toward the voice. His jaw dropped open like a trapdoor.
Standing on the deck just outside the slider door was the tall, lithe figure of Sharon. She smiled, her perfect teeth dazzling in the fading afternoon light, the lustrous blonde hair tied back in a single plait. She held two large plates, both piled high with steaming food. But Keihl noticed these things only peripherally. His eye was drawn to two distinct things: she wore the tightest, skimpiest pair of white shorts he’d ever seen, and her slim ankles were linked together by a short, silver chain.
“I’m so glad you could come, Keihl!”
Chapter Five
“Keihl, are you okay?” Sharon lifted a sculpted brow.
“Here let me take that,” Tom said, relieving her of the two plates. “We need something else to drink, too. Whiskey is kicking our asses.”
She nodded, smiling at Keihl. “What would you like? We’ve got everything.”
He tried, he really tried, but he couldn’t do it. His eyes dropped to the chain between her ankles. It was a finely wrought close-linked silver, no thicker than her delicate pinky finger. Cuffs of black leather wrapped around both of her graceful ankles, rings embedded in the cuffs’ leather serving as the anchor points for the solid chain. The chain itself was no more than eighteen inches long. Enough to walk in, but not quickly.
“Keihl? What would you like?”
Tom snickered, sliding a plate in front of Keihl, and sitting back down.
Keihl snapped his gaze back up to her pale blue eyes, before he allowed them to get him into more trouble. “Oh, sorry. Actually uh, water would be great.”
Her smile brightened and she opened the slider, walking back inside in small mincing steps. His cursed eyes took it all in, in an instant. The graceful line of her back in a snug black tank, the narrow waist swelling into pleasingly curved hips. The shorts clutched her ass as tight as a second skin, the fabric diving between, neatly dividing the shapely buttocks. The sun-bronzed, toned thighs called to his gaze as well, but he snapped his eyes away, swiveling in his seat, the movement as relaxed as he could make it.
Goddamn, what is wrong with you?
He pictured Kirsten’s beautiful brown eyes, her swollen lips. His love. He wanted to punch himself in the mouth for looking at Sharon like that.
“You okay, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. It’s just Sharon.”
Keihl forced a laugh. “Oh, yeah. I’m cool — just surprised me.”
You’re a real piece of shit, Keihl.
“Well, my friend, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Tom picked up his fork and knife, theatrically sliding them together.
“I need to soak up some of this booze,” Keihl said, cutting into his steak. “You trying to get me shit-faced?”
“You didn’t do anything you didn’t want to do. Now shut up and let me eat.”
Keihl inhaled his food, grateful for the distraction from the thoughts and questions piling up high and fast in his mind.
The swooshing sound of the slider came again, and Keihl had to force himself not to look back at her. There was no point in making things worse.
“Here you go, sirs.” Sharon set down tall glasses of water for both of them.
Keihl looked up at her.
Sirs?
She smiled back at him, and he couldn’t help but notice her warm openness only enhanced her beauty.
“Aren’t you gonna join us? Enjoy this great food you made for us?” Keihl waved a hand toward the table.
She exchanged a look with Tom, and clasped her hands in front of her--
Oh damn. Stop this shit, Keihl! You’re acting like a horny thirteen year old.
“She’s not eating with us,” Tom said.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
She glanced at Tom again, her eyes widening for a moment.
“I didn’t say she’s not eating,” Tom said, looking up at Sharon. He caressed the curve of her hip. “You’re hungry, right honey?”
“Yes, very, Sir.”
What the hell? Keihl felt a lump in his throat, and he had to remember to chew the food that was in his mouth. He’d never heard Sharon speak that way before. Hell, he’d never seen Sharon be that way before — she was almost… subservient.
She was a hospital administrator, highly educated, and tough as hell when she needed to be. Tom had told him some of the stories of her having to terminate the contracts of MDs, shit-can nurses, fend off malpractice lawyers, and enforce hospital policy.
This couldn’t be the same person.
“So… why not have a seat? Eat something. You know, like normal people?” Keihl smiled, hoping his ribbing was coming across as good-natured rather than condescending.
Sharon blushed, rubbing the tip of her nose with the back of a finger. The white tips of her French manicured nails stood out in a pleasing contrast against the tan of her skin.
“She doesn’t eat at the table wi
th me.”
Keihl’s mouth dropped open, and he snapped it shut, afraid his food would come tumbling out.
Be cool.
Keihl put his fork and knife down on the plate. “I think I’d better go.”
Sharon’s expression clouded. “Keihl, what’s wrong?” She rested her hand on his shoulder.
He wanted anything to keep her from touching him, and he didn’t want her to stop.
Fuck.
“I just — this isn’t right. I need to go home to see Kirsten, that’s all.”
Tom sat back, resting a hand on the edge of the table. “You’re drunk. You shouldn’t be going anywhere.”
“So you can drive me then. Or I’ll call a cab.” Keihl dug a hand into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out his phone.
“Wait,” Tom said, holding up his steak knife. “Hear me out first. If after we’ve talked some more, and you still want to go, then fine. I’ll call for a ride home for you.”
“Tom, I can call a—”
“I insist. You’re my guest, and I take care of my guests.” Tom looked up at his wife. Isn’t that right, honey?
“Always.” Her eyes darting to him then back to Keihl. “Please stay, Keihl. I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to upset.”
“No, no. It’s not that.” Keihl glanced away. “Jesus. Had a little too much to drink.” He looked back at Tom. “Okay, I’ll stay for a bit.”
“Great.” Tom looked up at Sharon, stroking her ass. Something passed between her and Tom, then she nodded, shuffling away with a gentle squeeze to Keihl’s shoulder.
Tom returned to his food, as if nothing had happened. Keihl joined him, feeling awkward sitting there just watching his friend eat.
The wind whispered through the trees, the evening light fading fast. Keihl watched a squirrel lope through the grass. The animal paused with those snappy, unnerving movements of its head, looking right at him. Then it was off in a flash toward the trees, the bushy tail waving behind it.
“I screwed up a little here.”
Keihl glanced back at his friend. “What?”
“With this. Too fast, I know that now.”
“What is ‘this’,” Keihl said, twirling his fork in the air.
But he knew.
Tom looked down, setting his knife on the table. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I thought you were ready. Maybe I was wrong.”