Where to start? I suppose the beginning would be good or is that too cliché? I think that maybe, before I tell you my tale, I should tell you about me.
Now I don't consider myself beautiful, hell don't even consider myself pretty to be honest. Mildly cute at best. I'm five foot six in height and a little overweight. Depresses the heck out of me but nothing I can do, it's a genetic problem and not due to bad eating habits. My friends tell me that just means there's more of me to love and that guys prefer it when they have more than skin & bone to hold onto. Given that since I was sixteen, there's only been about 3 guys willing to look at me for more than book-smarts you'd have to forgive my scepticism on that issue.
So, only having three serious boyfriends, two of which became lovers (to me that is, not each other) I'm what's considered a major green-horn in the world of romantic and/or sexual encounters. On the other hand, given my lack of knowledge and experience of all things carnal, I'm pretty loyal to the guy I'm with. I don't think of affairs, two-timing or dumping his ass. Partially because I don't like causing anyone pain but mostly, lets face it, who wants a fat and ugly woman at their side? So you can imagine my surprise when it happened.
It was at my friend's house. He'd invited us over for a few drinks so we went. The party had dwindled down to just four of us and because we were a bit drunk, my friend had made up the guest beds for us to use. I'd already staggered off to my appointed room and was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and deciding that wine possibly wasn't as horrible as I thought. Given that between three of us we'd had four bottles and under usual circumstances, I wouldn't have even touched a glass. It was a pretty logical thought on my part, especially when you consider my head was nicely fuzzed and my face wore a wonky, drink-induced grin. My friend and my lover were in deep conversation about some game that was coming out soon. The drones of their voices, my friend's deep Scottish burr and my lover's harsher Yorkshire one, filtered through the door making me feel safe. My eyes closed.
The voices stopped. I heard the door to the room open then close. Presuming it was my lover, I lay there with my eyes closed and breathing even, hoping he wasn't in one of "those" moods. I didn't really want to make love in my friend's spare bed. Heck, to be honest I didn't want my lover to touch me in that way at all, so I figured pretending to be asleep was a good option. I sensed someone standing near my bed, so close if I'd moved my arm I could have touched them. Fingertips touched first my forehead and then my cheek in a feather-soft caress. A man sighed and my heart skipped a beat as I recognised the voice.
"Sleep well dear-one. I wish we'd had more time. Even a little time alone."
Warm breath sighed on my forehead. His beard scraping on my skin as his lips pressed quickly on my skin. He left the room and I just lay there puzzled. I heard my lover's voice start to drone on again, my friend's joining it. Time passed and I still couldn't sleep. My forehead tingled where I'd been kissed. My friend's words circling round inside my head.
With a sigh, I rose from the bed and walked back to the living room where they were talking. They looked up at me, their conversation paused, and smiled. I returned the smile, my gaze lingering on my friend a little. He scooted up and patted the sofa next to him.
"Sit with us hon."
"Aren't you both tired?" my brow's knotted briefly. "I am but insomnia's playing up."
Both men nodded.
