Steve shrieked like a schoolgirl caught with her panties down in the backseat of a car at Lover's Leap.
"Shit!" exclaimed Bea, snapping her fingers, "I forgot to lock the damn doors!"
Lawrence spun his back to us, clutching his black cap in his twitchy fingers.
"I... um... just came in to ah... verify the situation," he sputtered, "I didn't mean to interrupt."
He glanced over his shoulder, gulped, then looked away again.
"I'll be in the limo when you're ready," he added, throwing the sound over his shoulder as he headed for the door.
"HALT!" yelled Bea, and Lawrence froze mid-step, his right foot in the air.
She sighed a long, expressive sigh.
"If you can keep your mouth shut, we'll let you stay."
"WE?!" Steve alarmed, the tea towel back in his lap, tented by his overdosed dicky maximus.
Still harder than a choir boy in a porn shop.
Lawrence appeared relieved and surprised by his good fortune. He shed his black suit jacket, sat on the loveseat, loosened his black tie, and slipped it from his neck. Then he nodded a smile to Steve, who responded with a blank stare.
Bea stepped into the adjoining dining room and waved me over.
"What the hell are you doing, Bea?" I whispered.
"He can't unsee what he just saw, Shannon," she answered, "and he's an employee. I need to include him so he'll be compelled to keep quiet." She shrugged. "He's all yours, if you want him."
"ME?! NO!" I said, poking her between those tiny titties. "Steve and I are going upstairs. ALONE!"
Bea arched back and away from me.
"All right Shan, calm down for Christ's sake," she said, "Just give me a few more minutes with Steve, and you do your best to draw Lawrence into this - my job and both our reputations are at stake."
Her crazy ideas sound reasonable at the time, but on further reflection, reveal themselves to be total bullshit.
"Now where were we Mr. Smith?" Bea said, as she walked back to him and attempted to position herself between his knees - but they appeared to be super-glued together.
"Close your eyes and try to relax."
Steve did as commanded, and Bea managed to wedge in and tug the tea towel from his death grip.
I joined Lawrence on the loveseat and offered him a joint in an attempt to compromise him, per Bea's instruction. Ever since their federal government had legalized it in 2018, it seemed that Canadians had gone reefer mad. And although getting high was not a problem in most cases, I was pretty sure it would still be frowned upon if on the job - especially if that job involved operating heavy machinery - such as a limo.
But Lawrence appeared to be unconcerned for his employment, most likely because the woman who signed his checks was dick diving in the buff. He pinched a fatty from the little metal box and put it to his lips. I lit the end of it - the flame illuminating his face, awash with that kid-in-a-candy-store awe.
"Damn, Ms. Grove," Lawrence said, huffing a puff of our small town's finest, "I didn't know this was the sort of activity Miss Bea was into."
"Under the circumstances, Lawrence," I said, taking the joint from him and enjoying a nice long draw, "you can call me Shannon."
"No mam," he said, shaking his head, "My grandpa Albert told me never to um... what did he call it?... slip into familiarity... yeah that was it."
But if familiarity had been the only thing Lawrence would have slipped into that afternoon, his grandfather would have been relieved.
"It's a crazy situation we've found ourselves in," I said, passing the dwindling doobie back to him. "You wouldn't say anything to anyone, would you?" I asked through a cloudy exhale, staring at him with doe eyes, and resting my hand on his thigh.
"No mam," Lawrence said, smiling, and answering my touch with a light one of his own just north of my knee.
I turned my attention to my bestie and my mister. Steve's earlier expression of horror with the addition of a fourth player had morphed into a purr of pleasure as Bea two-handed his greasy engorged shaft and tickled his heavy ascending pouch with her tongue.
"Oh yeah, mmmmmmmmm, so so good," Steve moaned, his eyes fixated on her advanced technique, but when the deep-throating commenced, he once again broke ranks and attempted to rake his fingers through her hair.
And imagine my uneasy surprise when she went off script and didn't admonish him for his felony. Rather, she egged him on.
"That's it Steve," Bea moaned, "Fuck my mouth."
And that unapproved tactical maneuver precipitated a wave of unwelcome adrenaline through me from tip to toe
"Oh man, oh yeah, this is hot," Lawrence whispered, as he rubbed his swollen package straining against the black gabardine of the uniform trousers.
"Ms. Grove, are you interested in the BBC?" he asked, a shyness in his quiet voice.
"Yes," I said, barely engaged, absorbed instead by the wild wild web of seduction my best friend was spinning around my sweetheart. "I love that Downton Abbey series."
Lawrence knitted his brows.
"I don't know what that is, Ms. Grove," he said, "BBC means big black cock."
"Oh Bea, OH BABY, OH GOD BABY!"
Steve blurted the same sentiment as Bea's three misters, as he held her head down and bucked up into her face.
Him calling her baby - it hurt; that's my name.
"I'm going to cum." Steve whimpered.
"Oh no you are NOT!" Bea snapped, and she climbed to standing on the couch, yanked his head back by his tufts of sparse gray hair, and jerked her matching pussy along his lips.
And regardless of how pissed off I was at her, I must have been giving off ferocious pheromones, because Lawrence didn't wait for an invitation to experience his version of the BBC. He unzipped his pants and sprung loose his colossal cockus erectus then presented it to me for my approval.
"Looks good," I managed to choke out, and with that assurance, he snaked his left hand over my thigh and under the teddy. I hesitated, but only briefly, then I eased my hips forward and spread for him, allowing his long slim fingers to worm their way to my lady bits. And we settled in to watch the exceptionally erotic exhibition taking place just six feet from us.
"How's that 62-year old pussy taste, Stevo," Bea asked as she ground it down and around his face and fingers.
"Mmmmmmmmm yummmmmm," Steve slurped, "like fine wine."
"That's it now," she said, lifting her left knee onto the back of the couch, smothering him, and Steve palmed her ass to hold her steady.
"Oh yeah, that's it... oh fuck yeah right there, do me just like that Steve."
"Listen to that dirty mouth on Miss Bea," said Lawrence, shaking his head as he played himself with his right hand, and me with the pluck of the fingers on his left, "She is some naughty bookkeeper."
"Don't call her that; she'll be pissed," I said. "She's an accountant."
"Thanks for the tip, Ms. Grove," Lawrence said, "Last thing I want to do is get on Miss Bea's bad side."
He turned and looked at me thoughtfully.
"Would you like to sit on my lap by chance?" he added.
"Why yes," I said, somewhat deflated with the unforeseen fork in the road Bea had detoured us down, and grateful for the opportunity to turn my back on it. I allowed Lawrence to lift me into a straddle, and my warm wet slit rested against his splendid span of espresso brown.
"May I?" Lawrence asked, and he stretched the delicate lace bodice of the teddy down and up under my hefty breasts. He pressed them together tight and gently sucked my nipples with his luscious lips. It discharged an intense electric impulse that traveled through my core and into my happy valley, where it went to ground, tasering my clit, provoking me to twerk along his shaft. He didn't attempt to enter me, though, and that was a good thing, because I was on a hair trigger, and I wanted to wait for Steve. I could hear the two of them tossing and turning on the nearby couch. Bea was teasing him, taunting him, tempting him, and I wondered if Steve felt as uncertain about the direction this afternoon had taken as I did.
And very shortly thereafter, I had my answer.
"Shannon!" he hollered.
I turned and there was Bea, flat on her back, with one leg on the back of the couch, and one on the floor. Steve was kneeling between her legs, his scepter as smooth and hard and shiny as a rink that had just been Zambonied. He had a sort of pained expression on his face, and I thought maybe the double dose of Cialis was the cause, but it wasn't. He was looking to me for permission to bonk my best friend, and we both knew if that happened, the chance of us consummating our long distance lust affair was slim to none.
But before I could decide how to respond, Lawrence made the executive decision to mirror their circumstance, sweeping me up into his muscular arms, spinning me around, and lowering me gently onto my back, my head now resting 90 degrees and only two feet from Bea's. He rose to his knees between my legs and rushed to unbutton and remove his starched white oxford shirt, then tugged his trousers down over his slim hips.
And then the four of us, frozen with indecision, waited for someone to make a move. It was the perfect 'swapportunity' and I hoped Steve would take initiative but...
SMACK!
Bea slapped his face then laughed at his gasp. He reacted swiftly, grabbing her wrists and pinning them over her head.
"What are you waiting for?" she said, gazing up at him, her voice now sultry and siren. "Come on Steve, do me; you know you want to."
It was so frickin' hot.
And so, when Steve looked down at me with those inquiring eyes, I smiled and nodded, giving him that permission, and he fixed his stare on Bea then stuffed her with his concrete monument.
