Party of Three

by Sandy Lowe

  Elle talked about her to Spencer? They talked about her sex life? Holy hell. What did Elle say? What did Spencer say back? “That’s true.”

  “But you let Daniella drag you out there and rub herself all over you even though you didn’t really want it.”

  “Well…” Avery so didn’t want to admit dancing with Dani had turned her on. Especially not to Spencer.

  As if reading her mind, Spencer continued. “You got into it at the end, but you had to close your eyes to do it, and you dropped her cold the second the music stopped.”

  Avery balked. “No, I didn’t. She had another offer.”

  Spencer made a sound in the back of her throat like a puppy staking its claim. “Avery, don’t you get it?”

  “No, not really,” Avery said honestly.

  “You don’t owe Daniella anything just because you turned her down. You don’t have to dance with her like that’s some fucked up consolation prize for not sleeping with her.”

  Avery stared at Spencer. “I wasn’t.”

  “So, the dance was your idea?”

  “No.”

  “But you were happy she asked you.”

  “Well, no.”

  “But you were the one who changed the tone from perfectly innocent to let’s get it on.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then why did you dance with her when you didn’t want to?”

  Because…well, because she’d felt bad about turning down Dani’s invitation to attend the charity dinner together. Because she had to carefully navigate Dani’s feelings, and all because Avery didn’t want to sleep with her.

  Spencer was right. How had she put all of that together so fast? Avery had no doubt she’d make an excellent therapist. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

  Spencer shrugged. “Yeah. I get that. I often find myself in a bump and grind with someone I’m not attracted to. It’s just good manners, you know what I mean?”

  Avery gave her shoulder a gentle push. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”

  “Denial doesn’t suit you either.”

  Avery inclined her head. “Fair enough.”

  Spencer took another sip of her wine, studying Avery. “My sister did a number on you, didn’t she?”

  “Elle? Of course not. She’s one of my closest friends. You know that.”

  Spencer shook her head. “That’s where it comes from. You think you let Ellie down because you didn’t love her back.”

  Avery grabbed Spencer’s wineglass, their fingers brushing, sending delicious tingles down Avery’s arm. She took a generous sip before handing it back. “I can’t believe she told you about that.”

  “We’re sisters,” Spencer replied as if that said it all.

  “Can we forgo the psychoanalysis, at least until I can get my own drink?” Avery glanced around rather desperately for a passing waiter, but of course when you wanted one there were none to be found.

  “Sure. But don’t you think it’s time you stopped trying to please everyone and gave yourself a chance to fall in love?”

  I’m already in love. Not saying the words out loud didn’t make them any less true.

  * * *

  Drinks in hand, Avery found Spencer again on the balcony, her back to the railing, checking her phone. She set down the two wineglasses and small plate of appetizers she’d snagged just before wait staff whisked them away to be replaced by the main course. She offered the plate. “Canapé?”

  Spencer took one and popped it in her mouth. “These are good.”

  “They are.” The sun was just beginning to set over the garden below, and the impossible swirl of orange and purple was the perfect backdrop, emphasizing the highlights in Spencer’s hair, the slender curve of her neck. “Am I monopolizing you? Do you have to mingle or network or whatever?”

  Spencer shook her head. “We both know this party is more for Mom and Dad. I’m a free agent as long as I don’t get in trouble or do something embarrassing.”

  “What could you possibly do that would be embarrassing?”

  “Well, let’s see. I could get ridiculously drunk and set up that karaoke machine we have in the basement. I have an unfortunate tendency to think I’m Beyoncé when I’ve had too much to drink.”

  Avery couldn’t think of anything cuter than a tipsy Spencer singing karaoke but kept that to herself. “Hmm. That would be embarrassing. Okay, I’m cutting you off. One glass of wine is your limit.”

  Spencer made a grab for the second wineglass. “No way. I’m here with you. You’ll save me from myself.”

  I’m here with you. Avery fought against the ache in her chest. “But what if I also get ridiculously drunk? I could be k.d. lang.”

  Spencer looked blank. “Who?”

  “k.d. lang. Singer-songwriter from the eighties.”

  Spencer rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay, Grandma, you can be k.d. whatever.”

  Avery’s mouth fell open. “Grandma? k.d.lang is a lesbian icon. She put lesbians in music on the map. She—”

  “Is an historic artifact. Maybe I can read about her in a museum one day.” Spencer grinned.

  “You have no taste.”

  “Why is it that old people think any music written after nineteen ninety is terrible? Like the freaking Beatles are the lynchpin of the music industry. Give me a break.”

  Spencer had said some things. Complete sentences worth of things that were probably important, but Avery only heard two words. “You think I’m old?”

  “I…” Spencer frowned. “No.”

  “But you just said I was old people.”

  “I didn’t mean you were old. Just older. Older than me.”

  Avery narrowed her eyes. “I’m two years older. You’re going to have to do better than that, kid.”

  “Hey!” Spencer stepped closer, stuck a finger in her chest. “Just because you’re older doesn’t mean I’m a kid.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Didn’t it? Wasn’t that what had kept them apart for so long?

  Spencer shook her head emphatically. “Uh-uh. We’re both adults. You’re older.”

  Avery groaned.

  “By a little bit. A smidgen. A smidgen of a smidgen.”

  “Great. Remind me to call about long-term care insurance.”

  The silence fell naturally and neither of them tried to break it, just stared out across the garden that in early April looked more like a horticultural wasteland. The plant hospice of November turned into the plant graveyard of January. But Avery knew in a couple of weeks it would spring back to life, because, well, it would be spring. She didn’t envy people who lived in warmer climates. Sure, it might be fun to live by the beach and wear flip-flops year-round, but there was something comforting about the change from one season to the next. How dramatic it was. Each spring was its own mini-miracle. Avery wouldn’t give that up for the world.

  Her miracle season had been summer at the McGregor house. Endless, lazy weeks of bumming around the city, swimming in the pool, eating her weight in Ben & Jerry’s. Never ending, heart pounding, torturous, ecstatic weeks of looking-but-not-looking at Spencer. Her breath catching and then twisting in her throat whenever Spencer entered a room. Country songs and romance novels described love as an emotion, as if it were something you generated and gave away. As if it could be controlled. That was total bullshit. Love was a stampede. You were either swept up and carried away, or crushed by sheer force.

  Spencer twisted and untwisted a stand of hair that had fallen in front of her shoulder. “Avery…”

  The way Spencer had said her name made it sound like there was more. Avery waited. She would wait forever if that’s what it took.

  “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

  Spencer wasn’t looking at her, but Avery’s heart started to hammer in her chest. This sounded serious. Not their usual banter. Was Spencer going to bring up what had happened the last time they’d been alone together? Also known as that time Spencer’s sunshine yellow bikini had made Avery lo
se her mind, and she’d kissed her. Was she ready to talk about it? She wasn’t sure. “What is it?”

  Spencer set her glass down and gripped the railing, fingers tight. Her blue eyes gleamed dark and mysterious in the growing dusk. She looked entirely too sexy. “Have you ever had a threesome?”

  Chapter Ten

  A Flight of Fantasy

  Avery needed to see an ENT doctor. She couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly. She was off her game, so distracted, so…okay, why not just admit it, so helplessly, hopelessly aroused just being in the same space as Spencer, her ears had deceived her. They had to have. Spencer had not just asked her if she’d had a threesome. She didn’t. Nope. No way. Could the floor please swallow her now? She could die. That’d be fine.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Have you ever had a threesome?”

  Avery stared. What else could she do? Really, no one could expect more at a time like this. She tried not to have a panic attack. “Well, uh, um…”

  The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitched. “Is that a yes?”

  Why didn’t women come with an instruction manual? Why wasn’t there a book, a magazine, a Wikipedia page that outlined what in holy hell she was supposed to do when the girl she loved asked about her sex life? And threesomes, for fuck’s sake. Threesomes.

  The problem wasn’t actually the threesomes, not really, even if threesomes were better in books than in real life. No, the problem was the kaleidoscope of dirty-as-fuck images that flashed through her mind and lingered like smoke. The deadly kind of smoke that killed you inch by inch, so you didn’t even know you were dying until it was too late. Spencer bent over a desk while a nameless, faceless, woman fucked her from behind, another woman in front on her knees, sucking Spencer’s clit. Or even better, Spencer curled into the curve of a woman’s chest while she played with Spencer’s breasts, someone else straddling her lap. Avery couldn’t think straight, every cell leaving its post and migrating to the one part of her body she needed desperately to ignore. She wanted to kiss her so badly she could already feel Spencer’s mouth on hers. The soft glide, the surprising dominance, the hungry rush. She knew what that kiss felt like, and knowing only made her crave it more. She couldn’t do this. There was no way she could chat to Spencer about threesomes and not spontaneously combust.

  Unfortunately, what came out of her mouth was, “Yes.” Damn her brain and its lust induced logic. She could feel heat rise up her neck and willed it down. No reason to be embarrassed. She was an adult; adults had sex. Sometimes with more than one person. So there, she’d answered the bizarre question that had come from nowhere like a lightning strike to her sanity. Now they could move to safer topics. Like the weather, their families, or… She’d go to the basement for the karaoke machine if that’s what it took. She just didn’t want the conversation to end. Soon the party would be over, and she’d have no reason to see Spencer. She wanted to hold on to the moment, and if that meant admitting to some not-as-sexy-as-she’d-hoped escapades, well, it was a small price to pay.

  “What was it like?” Spencer’s face was serious. She didn’t look awkward or shy. She could’ve been asking Avery what it was like to hike the Appalachian Trail for all it showed.

  Avery hoped the sound that had pushed its way up from the back of her throat passed as surprise. She was strung so tight she could feel herself vibrating. “Why exactly are you asking?”

  “Did you know that people who talk honestly about sex actually have better and more frequent sex? They also score higher on overall happiness and well-being.”

  “Good for them. I still don’t understand why you’re asking me about threesomes.”

  “I’m putting together my application for NYU, and I have to write an essay.” Spencer shrugged and gulped the rest of her wine. “On the impact that psychological readiness and interpersonal dynamics have on sexual arousal during intercourse.”

  Avery swallowed. She wished hearing Spencer say “sexual arousal” didn’t make her want to drop to her knees and give a practical demonstration. “In English that means?”

  “How the way we think and feel about sex, and those people we’re having sex with, impacts the level of arousal we feel. Like, how it’s not just biological or physical, but mental and changes and adapts depending on the circumstances.”

  Right. That. Easy-peasy.

  “I’m sure there is a textbook or a journal article that you could…” Avery said.

  “No. You don’t get it.” Spencer waved a hand in the air in frustration. “This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be, and I’m not explaining myself well, so I’ll just say it.” She took a steadying breath. “I’m a virgin.”

  Spencer was a virgin.

  Well, of course she was. Obviously, she was. She had to be. No one had the right to touch her. No one was worthy. If anyone tried, Avery would’ve killed them, she’d maim them, she’d cut off their fingers. She’d… Avery smothered the irrational fury. Tried to focus. Tried not to be ridiculously, outrageously pleased that Spencer was a virgin. Thank God.

  “So, what you’re telling me is that you have to write an essay on sex, but you’ve never had sex.”

  “Yes.” The relief on Spencer’s face was palpable.

  “Okay. But I’m still blurry on what that has to do with asking me about threesomes.”

  “Come on. You’ve got a degree. You know there’s more to an essay than research and statistics. You need detail, insight, analysis. I’m asking because you have experience and I don’t. I want to interview you.”

  For what felt like the umpteenth time in the last hour, Avery was floored. “You want to interview me. About sex. About why I was aroused.”

  “And also what you were thinking, and who you were with, and why.” Spencer nodded.

  “No.”

  “Avery—”

  “No. No, no, no.” This was not happening.

  Spencer’s face fell. “Why?”

  Because I love you. Because I don’t want to talk about other women, or all the sex I’ve had that was meaningless because it wasn’t with you. “It’s personal.”

  Spencer nodded again. “Okay, sure. I get it. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She turned to head back into the ballroom, and Avery grabbed her hand like she was a diabetic and Spencer was the last candy bar on earth. Avery’s heart was galloping; she was confused and cranky, and so unbelievably wet. But Spencer didn’t know that. Would never know that. She had to get her shit together. Spencer leaving wasn’t an option.

  “Just give me a second, okay? Just a second.”

  Spencer’s hand was warm in hers, and Avery didn’t have the metal fortitude to do the right thing and drop it. Spencer’s fingers were long and slender, each topped by a perfectly manicured nail. It felt right to be holding her hand. The more right it felt, the worse it hurt. “Why are you asking me? Why not Elle? You two talk about everything, and she’s not a virgin.”

  “Ellie’s never had sex with a woman. I wouldn’t say she’s straight exactly, well, you know that better than anyone I guess, but she’s only ever had sex with men. I did talk to her and she gave me lots of great information, but I want the perspective of someone who’s been with women.”

  Avery traced the curve of Spencer’s wrist, played her fingers along the pulse that beat there. Steady and strong. That was Spencer. She knew the answer but asked anyway. “Why?”

  “Because I think I could empathize more. Be able to offer more genuine insight. I’m attracted to women. If, no, when, I have sex, it will be with a woman.”

  “And you want to know what it’s like,” Avery paused a beat, “for research.”

  Spencer took their joined hands in hers and squeezed. “Yes.”

  Avery nodded and came to her decision. It should’ve been difficult, but somehow the words just came. “Don’t settle. Don’t sleep with the first woman who asks you, or the first one you’re interested in. Take your time. Make sure it’s what you really want and th
at she’s special enough for the honor.”

  Avery couldn’t look at her now, not without betraying her feelings. “Try not to be self-conscious. It’s not a performance. Focus on your body, on how you feel, on how you want the woman you’re with to feel. Have fun. Laugh.”

  “Okay,” Spencer said softly. “Is that how sex is for you? With someone special who makes you feel good and who makes you laugh?”

  Avery closed her eyes. She was the biggest damn hypocrite she knew. But maybe she could save Spencer from her own fate. “Sure.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Then tell me I’m wrong.”

  Avery groaned and met her gaze. “Don’t be like me, Spencer. Be better than me.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  If only she knew.

  When the silence lasted too long, Spencer said, “Okay, we can come back to that. Tell me about the threesome instead.”

  “You’re relentless, you know that?”

  “I’ve heard the rumor. Now tell me.”

  “There were two. Which one?”

  Spencer coughed.

  “Ah, I surprised the unflappable sex-therapist-to-be. You’ll have to work on that poker face.” Avery grinned.

  Spencer immediately schooled her expression into an unreadable mask. “Tell me about both and how they were different.”

  Sex was never that easy. It had only been easy once. One simple kiss that changed, and then confirmed, every damn thing she already knew about herself. So easy that the kiss had shattered her.

  “The first time,” Avery said. “I was a freshman in college. I was seeing a woman who was bisexual and she convinced me it would be fun to have a threesome with a man, just to see if I liked it. It wasn’t and I didn’t. Arousal wasn’t much of an issue, seeing as there wasn’t any.”

  Spencer winkled her nose. “That sounds like it sucked.”

  “It was uncomfortable, and eventually I just left. But it was a good lesson. If you’re pretty sure you’re not going to like something sexually, you’re probably right.”