“And I’ve made it clear that I’d like to date you, too,” said Matthew.
“And I’m the boss,” said Don.
“And I’m slimmer,” said Matthew.
“And there’s more of me,” said Don.
“That’s certainly true,” said Matthew. “A sensible girl – and Charlene is the most sensible girl I’ve ever met – might wonder what would happen to her if someone your size got on top of her and couldn’t get off.”
“I’d need another man there to help me,” said Charlene with a wicked smile.
“Oh, you’ve thought about it, then, have you?” said Don, his face shining.
“Of course I’ve thought about it. You’re two very attractive men, and you’ve both been very nice to me, and I’d like to go out with you. The problem is, I can’t choose between you.”
“Maybe we should toss a coin,” said Matthew.
“Or maybe we should remember who’s boss,” said Don.
“Alternatively,” said Charlene, with a sly smile, “we could triangular date.”
Don said, “Triangular date? I’ve never heard of that.”
“No. I think I just made it up.” She giggled.
Matthew said, “So we go out together somewhere – a pub, a restaurant, a park, somewhere – all three of us – together.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“And at the end, you choose which one you like most?”
“Possibly. We’d have to see, wouldn’t we?”
Matthew looked at Don, a twinkle in his eye. “I’m game. You probably won’t be, because it’s obvious which one of us she’s going to choose.”
“Hah,” said Don. “It is obvious, I agree, but not in the way that you clearly imagine.”
They both looked at Charlene. “We’ll do it,” they said in unison.
The triangular date was a great success if, by success, we mean that all three people enjoyed it. The coffee shop closed on Sundays, and so that was the day they chose. In fact, they opened it, but only briefly and only for themselves, with a CLOSED sign in position and the blinds drawn, so that Don could make tuna sandwiches for lunch and Matthew could work the coffee machine. They gave Charlene no task except, as Don put it, to ‘sit there and look beautiful.’
It was a beautiful sunny day so, after lunch, they went to the park. Matthew had brought a frisbee and the knowledge that they were watching the movement of her tits as she jumped to catch it only added to Charlene’s enjoyment. They sat on the grass and devoured ice cream and frappes at about four, and then the question was: What are we going to do next?
Don said, “We’ll need to have dinner at some time. But it’s far too early for that.”
Charlene licked her lips and tilted her head. “Why are we dodging the question?”
Matthew said, “What question?”
“Don’t pretend,” said Charlene. “You know what you’re thinking about. And so does Don.”
Both men fidgeted, looking at the ground, guilty smiles creeping across their faces.
Charlene said, “And we’ve all been brought up to imagine that, because I’m a woman, I can’t possibly be thinking the same thing.”
Matthew made a gesture that, had he been wearing a tie, would have been straightening it. ”I...”
“But I am. I’m wondering how the pair of you would be in bed. Just like you two are wondering how I would be in bed. And what I’m thinking is, why don’t we find out? We can have dinner after that. If our time together is as good as I think it might be, we’ll have worked up quite an appetite by then.”
In a voice that suggested nervousness, Don said, “But that means you have to choose one of us.”
“Why?” Her mouth curled into a smile as she stood, looking at her two friends.
Matthew said, “Because, if you don’t, that would mean... You do mean that. You’re thinking of three in a bed.”
“You have a problem with that?”
Again the tie-straightening gesture, though no tie existed. “Well, I... Don?”
But Don appeared to be struck dumb.
“Now,” said Charlene. “Who has the biggest bedroom and the least nosy neighbors?”
“I have a house,” said Don. “Matthew lives in an apartment.”
“Not a very big apartment,” said Matthew.
“That’s settled, then,” said Charlene. “Don’s place it is. Shall we go?”
For two men who ever since they first met had kept Charlene busy with one-liners and a steady flow of banter, Don and Matthew were very quiet as Don drove them to his home. When they got there, Charlene said, “What kind of shower do you have, Don? How big is it?”
Don coughed. “Actually, I have a wet room.”
“What’s a wet room?”
“It’s a large walk-in tiled room with a shower in it.”
“That sounds ideal. Show me.” When they reached the wet room, she said, “All three of us could get in here together.”
“I suppose we could,” said Don.
“It’s perfect!” As she spoke, she unbuckled the belt on her jeans and pulled down the zipper, prior to stepping out of them. “Come on, guys. Get your clothes off. We’re going in the shower.”
When all three were naked, Charlene smiled noticing that Don had to restrain himself from covering his sex with his hands. She laughed. “When I was a little girl, some of the kids used to play doctor and nurse. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine. I never joined in. But I am now. I’m showing you mine. Don, stop covering yours up. My word, you weren’t shortchanged in that department, were you?” She turned to Matthew who was looking a little sheepish, standing beside her. “Don’t look hurt, Matthew. You’ve got a nice one, too. Not quite as big, but perfectly formed.”
The warm water streaming down upon them slowly began to wash away their inhibitions. Still, it took Charlene’s new-found brashness. She began by gripping the soap in her long slim fingers. Turning first to Don, who stood closest, she slowly lathered his large, well-built chest. He responded instantly, taking it from her and pulling her close to lather her back. She let her body sag into his, shivering as his manhood pressed against her stomach. Firmly, his hands massaged her back and shoulders. That, along with the soft warm water showering over her, gave her a contented, happy feeling.
Matthew watched for a few minutes, his eyes glowing. She turned her head and, with her eyes and a little nod, she invited him into the fold. Swallowing roughly, he nodded, moving behind her to wrap his arms around her body, cupping her full breasts, his hands exploring, caressing, teasing her nipples. He pressed his hips against her ass, his manhood pressing into her. With his mouth he kissed her neck, nibbled at her ears, pulling at her earlobe with his teeth.
Taking the soap, now, from Don, she scrubbed his large back, his shoulders, his fine butt, as he stood there with a look of pure ecstasy on his handsome face. Matthew trailed kisses down her back, fondling her ass, moving down to nuzzle her legs. His hair tickled her pussy as he knelt there, and she shivered with delight. Her body cried out for more. Teasing and touching with fingers and tongues, Matthew and Don pleased her and tantalized her, but satisfaction was still to come. They soaped every crevice of each other’s bodies, kissing, prodding; making squelching sounds as they meshed together.
When they stumbled from the shower, beaded with water, drenched with passion, they landed in a large living room covered with thick beige carpeting and low-slung furniture. Surrounded by patio doors and huge windows, bright, warm sunlight streamed in.
Gone was the hesitancy Matthew and Don had felt earlier. Gently, they pulled Charlene down onto the floor, laying on either side of her. The hardness, the warmth, the electricity from their bodies sent pleasant vibrations throughout hers. She closed her eyes. Soft-lipped kisses covered the nape of her neck, between her shoulder blades, down her spine . . . Firmer lips kissed her throat, her breasts, licking and nibbling on the hardened nubs. She arched her back, sighing with pleasure. As her ass was being fon
dled, massaged, caressed, Don slipped down her body, his lips grazing her ribs, her heaving stomach, over her shaven pubis, to the lips of her vagina. His tongue slipped into her petals, causing her to quiver.
“Ohmygod,” she moaned, wiggling her butt against the erection she could feel behind her. Hands were exploring all her contours now. She could feel the rough carpet beneath her. But most intense of all was the rolling, lapping tongue, teasing, but not touching her clit. “Oh, please,” she murmured, raising her hips for more. Don drove his tongue deep and insistent, far into the recesses of her hole. Finally, the warmth of his mouth latched onto her quivering clit, lashing, tasting the fruits of his labor as she came, her body exploding. She cried with joy as waves and waves of delight rippled through her.
As she lay, breathing in the scent of soap and sweat and sex, she opened her eyes a little, turning her head toward the windows. A sudden coldness pierced her core. “Baptiste!” she cried. There, silhouetted by the sun, stood his rigid body.
Chapter 10
Baptiste stood stiffly, all the air knocked out of him. That fucking bitch! Thank god he hadn’t followed through with his plan. Thank god he knew what he now knew of her, saving him from making the mistake of a life-time.
AFTER WEEKS OF SOUL-searching, and of heart-to-hearts long into the night with Bella, Baptiste had reached a decision. Yes, he’d been hurt. Yes, he was afraid of commitment. But this woman, he’d thought, was special. His mind was never free of her. Her beautiful face, her soft, tender eyes, her bright, warm smile . . . flashed and lingered in his mind day and night.
He missed the mornings over coffee and the newspaper together. When he arrived home at night the quiet smacked him in the face. The loneliness hobbled him; sank him into a sadness that immobilized him. Gone was the cheerful chatter, the lingering kisses, the passionate love-making. All of it had dissolved into nothingness.
He was reminded of his mother. She’d sunk into a depression she couldn’t climb out of. And he thought of Lila, his first love. He could still feel the fire she’d fuelled in his body. Every waking moment, and every dream-filled night had been claimed by her. The sensuousness of her. Her soft, wet, body. Her skilled manipulation of his. And then she’d ended it. He could still see her face, twisted with loathing. He could hear her voice, filled with scorn, “What do you expect? You’re just a boy! Grow up.” The devastation he’d experienced was total. He’d wanted to die. His half-hearted attempts at life, and some half-hearted attempts at killing himself were futile. His despair had lasted almost a year. Yet he’d fallen again, and again been spurned. Again he’d sunk into desolation. It was then he vowed he would not be that person. He’d be strong. He’d stand on his own. He would not be like his mother. He would not let himself be hurt like that ever again.
And yet . . . Twice he’d entered relationships with good women. He’d enjoyed their company, experienced love, reveled in their adoration, delighted in great sex. But he could not – would not – give himself completely. Never again. And when they left he’d missed them terribly; made a nuisance of himself begging them to come back. They hadn’t. In the end, he’d understood.
Then there was Charlene. Beautiful, warm, loving, good-natured with a sexual appetite to please the neediest of men. And they’d meshed. She loved him. Would never hurt him. And she’d been a virgin for chrissake. Why couldn’t he trust her? Why couldn’t he give her what she so desperately wanted?
One evening, he and Bella sat in her cheery little kitchen having a beer. Unable to keep his pain inside any longer, he’d poured out his pain. With Charlene gone from his life he felt empty.
Bella stroked his arm, her eyes burned with compassion. “Baptiste,” she said, “There are no guarantees in life. We will experience sadness – even heart-ache. It’s all part of living; of loving. And with that comes great joy. If you hold yourself apart from it in order to save yourself pain, you can’t really live to the fullest.”
Baptiste, lowered his eyes, in deep thought. Bella watched intently for his reaction. When he didn’t speak she continued, “I know Charlene. She loves you. I believe that if you were together she always would. She wants to promise you that. Yes, sometimes life throws us curve-balls. You can choose to avoid pain and live in this void you’re living in now, or you can choose life.”
Slowly, slowly as one day drifted into the next, Baptiste let himself picture a future with Charlene. He saw them with a child, imagined the laughing and loving together that he knew she craved. A marriage. Family. Forever.
And finally, one day he set out to tell her. The words he planned to use swirled through his head. Charlene, I love you. I’ve been so wrong. I was afraid to live, but you’ve shown me how life can be. I want to marry you, and have a family. I want to open myself up to you, and be with you forever. He drove to the town and the coffee shop where he knew she worked. The day was bright and sunny, and he felt a lightness as he parked across the street. Looking toward the café he watched Charlene and two men come out the door. A lanky, fair-haired man carried a picnic basket. The other, big and brown-skinned, carried two cups of coffee. Charlene led the way, looking excited and chipper.
His heart fell as he watched them enter a blue Acura. Had she replaced him? Or were these the men she worked with; just friends? Staying well back so as not to be discovered, Baptiste followed the trio to a park where he watched them playing frisbee, eating ice cream, drinking iced coffee. They may be just friends . . . out for a Sunday afternoon jaunt . . . though the men seemed especially charmed by her. That’s not so unusual, though . . . is it, he wondered?
When he followed them to a large bungalow in a beautiful old residential area, Baptiste began to feel the old familiar knotting in his stomach. He sat in his car on the tree-lined street, his heart hammering. Were they just having dinner? A movie night, maybe? For a long while he sat there, pondering. Doubts, fears and suspicions penetrated his mind. After quashing them over and over, he emerged from the car, walking quietly up the sidewalk, gazing into the front windows, then slipping around the side of the house to the back where patio doors and ground-to-ceiling windows graced the house. He stepped slowly up to look inside. Before he saw them, he heard them. Moans and sighs and cries of delight. When his eyes became accustomed to the light he saw the three of them, writhing and panting on the carpet. He stood there a moment, in horror, his gut rolling, his legs weak. That fucking bitch! Turning on legs made of jelly he staggered from the yard, down the sidewalk to his car.
Chapter 11
Ohmygod. What have I done? How did he find us? Charlene existed. That was all. She waited tables, walked to her apartment, dressed, showered, and went through the motions of living like an automaton. She could neither sleep or eat. Numbness engulfed her.
Don and Matthew still treated her like a queen. They bantered and teased and joked. All to no avail. She was dead to all emotion.
Had anyone asked her if she’d hoped to renew her relationship with Baptiste, she’d have said, “No.” The relationship had been over for weeks. Why, then, was she so distraught? It came to her that she had harbored hope. She’d told herself that freedom to be and do what she wanted was enough. That living day-to-day was right for her, and that shedding her ‘good girl’ image was all she wanted. Now she realized that she loved him still. That she had never stopped loving him. And now she had not only lost any chance of connecting, she had confirmed for him what he had been so afraid of. Love meant treachery, faithlessness and pain.
But she would never have betrayed him if they’d been together. She’d only just discovered her own sexuality, and the beauty of it. They weren’t together. It wasn’t a betrayal! How could she make him see that?
Days turned to weeks. Gradually, Charlene was able to force food down, though there was no joy in it. She slept with a little help from the druggist. She smiled when Don ribbed her about her skinny new ‘model body’, or when Matthew teased that she now looked more like him. She thought of calling Baptiste, of trying to exp
lain. But what was there to explain? She hadn’t been unfaithful. They’d been apart. And she needed permanence. He wasn’t about to change. She knew that. She must go on with her life.
Though her rendezvous with her work buddies had been breath-taking in more ways than one, now she had no sexual appetite. It was all she could do to function. The dreams of finding someone she loved in that way, marriage, a family . . . were put on hold.
It was during this time of living in limbo that Bella called one evening. “Hey, little lady, when are you coming to visit me?” Her cheery voice warmed Charlene’s deadened heart. And so they made plans for Charlene to hop a bus the following Sunday, her day off, and visit for the day.
WHEN SHE ARRIVED AT Bella’s tiny bungalow, Damon and some friends were in the drive-way shooting baskets into a net extended from a post. “Hey, Charlene!” he called, running over to hug her, “So good to see you!” She smiled at him through glossy eyes. Oh, how I’ve missed this!
Bella rushed outside to wrap Charlene in her big, warm body. “Oh, honey, thank goodness you’re here at last!” and she pulled Charlene into her cozy little home, chattering the whole time, “I can’t believe we’re seeing you again! Finally! I’ve been at my wit’s end wondering when I’d see that pretty face . . .”
The smell of fresh bread and coffee filled the cheerful, snug kitchen, and it wasn’t long before both were set in front of Charlene as she sat at Bella’s oak table. Hearing the cries and laughter of teen-agers on the driveway, feeling the moist warmth of the room, seeing the yellow muslin curtains rustling in the breeze, and sitting back and watching Bella’s jolly face as she bustled about brought to Charlene a peaceful happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Then she heard it. A rich, jovial voice outside saying, “Hey, Buddy! Wanna see how it’s done?” And she heard Baptiste’s deep-throated belly-laugh; familiar, even after all this time.
She exhaled in a gush of breath. Her heart raced. Bella watched Charlene’s face blanch as her hand flew to her chest. “Bella, I’ve got to get out of here!” The urge to run and hide was overwhelming.
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