Brent Daniels was busy rereading the rough draft of his latest work, preparing to make some changes to his sci-fi epic, mostly to add in a bit more sex that he thought was called with this particular character. His writing was definitely not smut, but it wasn't clean, younger age sci-fi, either. It was sci-fi for adults, and he fully expected it to go reasonably well. It was a side job, one that paid him tolerably well, while his main vocation was screenwriting for a major horror-oriented series that straddled the line between fiction and documentary with its dramatizations. The dramatized parts were his specialty, in fact.
In any case, that work would have to wait a bit longer, as the knock at the door, on a Friday night, no less, indicated. He would have been on a date with Summer until recently, but he was in no mood for dating now, feeling a little raw, so here he was, working on his second job straight after his first. Well, at least on his side job, he could drink, and his poison of choice was a highball of Jameson and Cherry Coke (don't even ask). Grimacing, Brent got up and went to get the door.
Opening it, he found none other than his ex-girlfriend, Summer Hardy, and her best girlfriend, Deanna Falkirk, waiting outside. If Summer was an All-American blonde beauty, platinum and whatnot, Deanna was a stately brunette, elegant, with a classy look to her. Clearly, she was there for backup, making Brent feel a little outnumbered. Even so, he was the consummate gentleman, at least for Deanna's sake, since she hadn't wronged him the way that Summer had.
"Ladies, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Brent asked them cautiously, "and would you care for a drink?"
"Well, actually, for this, a stiff drink sounds rather nice, in fact. It's going to be a tough sell, perhaps. What are you drinking?" Summer addressed her ex-boyfriend, her eyes full of love, much to his shock.
"Jameson and Cherry Coke. Feel free to use a different highball or drink it neat, if you prefer. I know that my tastes in booze aren't for everyone. Anyway, clearly, this isn't just a social call. I ask again, ladies, what's the purpose of this visit?" Brent watched with some amusement as Deanna took a shot, very neat, but followed it with a chaser of ginger ale, while Summer didn't even bother chasing it down at all.
"Sorry, I needed the liquid courage, and undiluted to boot, babe. Look, Brent, it's really quite simple. I want you back. I miss you. I want to be yours again. But, here's the rub. I don't come alone this time. I'm part of a package deal. Deanna and me, we're not just girlfriends in the platonic sense anymore. We're...lovers, and we both want you. Yes, you'd be dating both of us, if you agreed to this. I want to be upfront and clear about this, if you take me back. But before you decide, please, let us advertise, promote our cause, if you will," Summer said, as she began undressing, her sundress lifting above her head to show her in bra and panties.
That was a huge gesture in itself, though Brent had sampled the goods before, of course. He knew what Summer was like in bed, too, and that memory was more than enough to stir his loins. Summer, whatever her flaws as a girlfriend, was no slouch in the bedroom and never had been. He knew that others thought that she was too wild and slutty to be faithful, but Brent knew the truth. Summer had goofed up, once, but as far as he could tell, she had never cheated on him prior to this. It was a huge fuck-up on her part, but it wasn't a pattern of infidelity.
