Laurel's Idea

"Running late- start without me!" read Brad's text to Laurel and I. It came across as I walked into the restaurant where we had agreed to meet for drinks before dinner. I spotted Laurel at the bar, arching an eyebrow in exasperation as she read Brad's text. I waved to get her attention. She brightened when she saw me, and patted the barstool beside her.

Laurel was a friend of Brad's. She lived in the same apartment building as Brad- they met in their tenant union, and Laurel featured often in Brad's stories. She was a brunette. Brad had a thing for brunettes. (I, too, am a brunette.) She had hazel eyes, feminine, soft features, slightly brushy eyebrows, and an hourglass figure. She wore her hair in loose curls, and small wispy curls framed her face in a pleasing way. She wore large eyeglasses that balanced her features well. Laurel was in a relationship with a man whose entire personality was professional networking. I didn't care for him. I couldn't begin to understand that situation because she was pretty; had a successful corporate career; was fashionable; a skillful conversationalist; and had this interesting edge to her. She always seemed very normal and then would just say something surprising, like casually mentioning doing mushrooms.

I once asked Brad if he was romantically interested in Laurel, and he explained how in love Laurel was with her boyfriend. It wasn't lost on me that Brad had not answered my question- but I also understood. Laurel was very much his type, but was such a delight to be around- the kind of person who could be anyone's type. Brad had a pretty intense set of personal ethics and I knew without him having to say so that he wouldn't get in the middle of them. It's also part of why I felt so safe and comfortable around Brad, and why my husband didn't object to me regularly staying the night at Brad's apartment (necessary, since we lived a couple of hours apart).

Today, Laurel was wearing a black dress with black fabric covered buttons down the front. The fabric was drapey and crepey and flattered her breasts and butt. The round neckline showed off a peek of her collarbone, and the bottom hem ended just above her knees. She wore black ballet flats with small star appliqués on them.

I sidled up to the bar, sat next to Laurel, and asked the bartender for a soda water.

Laurel lifted open my jacket slightly to survey my outfit. (This, by the way, is a low-level example of Laurel's edge. How uncommon and, I suppose, intimate, for a casual acquaintance to enter my personal space like this.) I tried to mask my surprise and hoped I wasn't blushing.

I was wearing a reddish brown dress made from a rib-knit fabric. It was vintage from the 90s; form-fitting, sleeveless, with a low-cut round neckline. I wore a light brown lace thong underneath so my underwear lines wouldn't show. I must admit that I like how my butt looks in a thong- round and shapely. I was wearing a light brown push-up, add-a-cup, bra, and four inch cheetah print pumps. I did more makeup than usual- smoky eye makeup, blush that accentuated my cheekbones, and a lipstick with brown tones. I carried a beautiful brown leather purse- also a lovely vintage find. I looked good. I got a little thrill from wearing a sexy outfit when Brad and I would meet up because Brad was not stingy with compliments, nor did he have any problem dressing himself well in return.

Laurel looked me up and down and smiled. She pointed at my manicure and pinched some fabric from around my waist in her fingers, and said "you look so good, and you even coordinated!"

I grinned. "Thank you! Your dress is so pretty, too!"

Laurel gestured at her phone. "I don't know if you saw Brad's text, but he's going to be late."

"Oh, I did," I said, chuckling. "I'm sure he's mad that he's leaving two beautiful women waiting on him." Laurel laughed, too. It was unlike Brad to be this late, and we knew it would eat him up to not be out with us.

We chatted about politics; family vacations; past relationships; and the best baguettes in town. Brad texted again, apologizing for his lateness, and promising that he would arrive in five minutes.

Laurel read the latest text and sipped her cocktail thoughtfully, tilting her head. "So hey, this is maybe an inappropriate question, but- do you find Brad attractive?"

The question surprised me. I found Brad extremely attractive, in fact. He was a frequent character in my masturbatory imaginings. I had known Brad for over a decade, and I had found him attractive since the first time I met him, almost a decade prior. But why did Laurel want to know? Was I being too obvious? Had I said something too crass? Did Brad put her up to the question?

I realized that my face betrayed my surprise. But in fairness, it was a pretty disarming question. It was difficult to spend even a short time with Brad without feeling attraction and chemistry. As best I could tell, he had this effect on a lot of women. He was clever, competent, and confident, but still had a register for vulnerability, kindness, and a flirtatious demeanor. He was effortlessly handsome. I didn't expect that I would be able to play off the way I acted around Brad. But, still, the question was an uncomfortable one, as I had been married for close to a decade to a longtime friend of Brad's.

"I do, very much so," I said, resolving that Laurel likely knew the answer to the question before she asked it.

"Tell me about it," said Laurel, peering at me.

"Are you sure? I...." I said, unsure.

"I'm just curious. It's just us girls," said Laurel, egging me on.

"Well," I said, cautiously, "I am married, but I'm not dead. Brad is so kind and smart. We have such interesting conversations. I want to touch his hair so badly. One time last year he zipped and buttoned his pants in front of me because we were deep in discussion and he wanted to be in the room to say a point, and wow, that did something to me. He has mentioned a few sexual things that are interesting to me." I realized I needed to shut my mouth several sentences ago and clamped my mouth shut.

Laurel smiled. "He is really something, isn't he?"

I was seized by a sudden urge to backpedal. "Yes, I'm so fortunate to count him among my closest friends," I said, smiling. I knew it was a pretty unconvincing backpedal.

Laurel sat down her drink and said, calmly, "Look, we both want to fuck him silly. This is just the effect he has on us. He'll be here any minute, so I'll just cut to the chase: later, back at Brad's place, I'm going to suggest a threesome: you, me, and Brad. I hope you'll both say yes!" She smiled pleasantly.

My eyebrows ascended into my hairline. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I opened my mouth to say something in response, when Laurel's voice drowned me out. "Brad! You made it!" trilled Laurel, standing to give Brad a hug.

Brad wore a well-tailored suit and penny loafers. I'm a real sucker for a man in a suit. It was dark gray and made from a nice quality fabric. He wore a white button-down shirt underneath, and no tie. His eyes, a dilute blue, really shone in contrast to the gray. He knew how to dress himself, and unfortunately for me, he knew it, and exuded confidence.

I greeted Brad and ribbed him about his lateness. All the while, my internal monologue was running at breakneck speed: what do I do when Laurel suggests the threesome? I've never had a threesome. I'd like to. I'd especially like to with Laurel and Brad. My husband would never consider a threesome. But also, we had problems that made me doubt that the marriage was long for this world anyway. Surely Brad wouldn't go for this. He wasn't tied down, but he knows that Laurel and I both are. It's riskier for me to convey my interest than it is for either of them, because although Brad and I are closer than Brad and my husband are, Brad and my husband have been friends for over a decade. And Brad has a strong and personal opposition to infidelity.

I had fantasized about sex with Brad. He didn't particularly discourage it, either. We had spoken frankly about sex for quite some time. I couldn't help but observe the ways in which we would be as compatible of lovers as we were friends. He also represented, fair or not, an escape from the problems in my marriage: Brad had an enthusiasm and intellectual interest in sex, while my husband did not; Brad was attentive and complimentary, while my husband was not. I felt more seen, sexy, heard, valued, and admired in my friendship with Brad than I ever had in my marriage.

You might wonder why I'm not married to Brad- the short answer is "me too," but the longer one is that, once I had met Brad, by the time he was single, I was married.

"What would you do?" asked Brad.

I realized I hadn't been listening to the conversation at all. "Well, I-"

"If it were me," cut in Laurel, mercifully, "I'd get as much cash as I could, sneak into Mexico, change my name, and cut my hair. I'm not going to sit around and wait for the feds to pick me up for a crime my identical twin committed."

"Laurel has the right idea," I said. "But I might try to keep my hair," I laughed. Brad had once said that my long hair was "hot" and as silly as it sounds, I started growing my hair out in earnest. I subconsciously ran my hands through my hair as I spoke, and noticed Brad watching. Our eyes met. Almost imperceptibly, his eyes flicked to my chest and back to my eyes. Brad has an interest in full chests that he has a difficult time hiding, which I find hilarious and cute. I smirked and looked at the bar, before glancing at Laurel with gratitude for the save.

"It's about time to get to our dinner. Shall we?" asked Brad.

The restaurant was a few blocks away. As we walked, Laurel and I chatted about navigating the corporate world as youngish women. It was a rare treat to have a friend with this lived experience in common, to swap stories and tips. Philosophically, we had different approaches: mine, to be overly polite, friendly, and accommodating; hers, to be direct, brusque, and to take no shit. I knew it was a topic that wouldn't bore or exclude Brad, either, because he clearly had an admiration for capable, strong, women, and a keen interest in the gender politics underlying our respective professional demeanors.

We reached the restaurant and I held the door for Laurel and Brad. Brad stepped inside to hold the second door. Laurel strode through the door I was holding and grazed her hand across my waist as she passed by, meeting my eyes as she walked. I floated through the door that Brad held and he followed behind me, pressing his palm against the small of my back to steer me toward the hostess's stand. He always did this, and I wondered if he knew that it gave me goosebumps.

The restaurant was French, and pleasantly decorated. My mind was swimming as we were seated and handed menus. I had never been intimate with a woman before, although I could see the appeal. Laurel was very attractive. Now that she had planted the seed in my mind, I noticed my eyes skirting toward her neck and breasts. I blushed as she caught my eye and smiled. She had a sensuous aura about her that I hadn't observed until now. And- had she unbuttoned the top one of the fabric-covered buttons on her dress?

I hadn't enjoyed a meal quite so much in a long time. There was something warm and comfortable and inviting about their company anytime, but the prospect of something more made my head swim. The flavors of the dishes were technicolor, and our conversations, filling.

I excused myself to the restroom to freshen up. I washed my hands and searched my purse for my lipstick. I found it and had just removed the cap, leaning forward toward the mirror, when Laurel appeared behind me, plucked the lipstick from my hand, and set it down. I turned to look at her, reflexively, and her lips met mine. Laurel's lips were soft, plump, tender, and hungry. I turned my body from the vanity to face her as we continued kissing, deeply, passionately. As we kissed, my hands found her waist, then cupped and squeezed her breasts. A small moan escaped Laurel's lips. I was breathless. It felt electric. I had goosebumps from head to toe.

Laurel stepped back, breathing heavily, and said "we ought to get back, don't want to keep Brad waiting." She leaned over the vanity towards the mirror, pushing her butt out, and put my lipstick on her lips. She draped a hand behind my neck, and kissed me again, deeply. Laurel snapped the cap back onto my lipstick and placed it in my purse. "Shall we?" she asked, coquettishly. I glanced toward the mirror and admired her skillful application of my lipstick. "Certainly," I said, shyly.

As we returned to our table, I wasn't sure how I could possibly act normally. I slid into the booth next to Brad, perhaps three inches closer than before, and Laurel sat beside me, our hips touching. I met Brad's eyes, and saw him take in my flushed cheeks and fresh lipstick. I thought I could detect a question behind his eyes.

Brad asked, "where to next?" Laurel suggested that we return to Brad's apartment for board games. Brad and I agreed, and I felt Laurel smirking at me.

On the walk back to Brad's apartment, we chatted about politics. We all had a similar worldview, but the differences in our personalities made hypotheticals interesting. Brad had a strong sense of justice and was a real "doer." I tended to think that my impact as an individual was negligible, and suggested cowardly approaches. As you might imagine, Brad's takes were impossibly attractive, in part because I knew him well enough to know that they weren't merely boastful. Laurel fell somewhere in between and always had something insightful to add.

We arrived at Brad's apartment. Brad unlocked his door, and Laurel and I stepped inside, with Brad following behind. I sat down my purse and took off my heels- lifting my foot behind me, dangling the shoe from my toe, and removing it with my hand, then doing the other. I felt Brad's eyes on me. I knew he liked watching me take them off, and I got a little thrill from making sure he saw me. We had lots of little things like this. I wouldn't say that I think he ever wanted a relationship, or even something physical, with me. But his sexuality was plainly, in large part, intellectual. He had a keen interest in power dynamics, and a number of things that were emotional, subversive, and taboo. Even the fact that he shared all of this with me was part of his cerebral, thoughtful, approach to sex. He had never said that he got off on toying with me, but it was pretty obvious- and I got off on it, too. While he clearly appreciated beautiful women, it seemed that he liked teasing a reaction out of a beautiful woman even more.

I watched him, watching me. His eyes flicked to meet mine; his expression was hungry.

Laurel suggested Scrabble. This was a good game for the three of us, as we were all well-read enough to be competitive. We set the game on Brad's coffee table and Brad pulled up a chair to sit across from the couch. Laurel sat on the couch and extended her hand to me, saying "come sit with me! I won't look at your letters!" with a friendly smile. I put my hand in hers in a goofy, theatrical way, and she guided me to sit pressed against her. I beamed.

I was certain that our touch and physical closeness would not be overlooked by Brad. I turned slightly to be oriented slightly toward Laurel, so the sides of our breasts were almost touching, parted my lips slightly, and, fussing with my tray of Scrabble tiles, fluttered my gaze to meet Brad's. I'm not sure I've ever seen him caught more off-guard. It was all over his face, that he was intrigued by what he was seeing. I liked having his attention and his imagination, especially to such a degree that he couldn't really bluff. It was extremely sexy to see. I ran my hands through my hair, for good measure.

After a few turns of our Scrabble game, I noticed Brad's eyes darting between my lips and Laurel's lips. His right eyebrow arched, almost imperceptibly. I was amused to have caught the moment when he observed that we were wearing the same color. I hazarded a glimpse at Laurel, and I could tell from her smirk that she had realized that Brad had realized, as well.

While we played, the conversation was light: funny stories from work, gossip about a mutual friend, the best foods at Taco Bell. Brad, in particular, had always been quite the storyteller and was one person who was always able to make me laugh. It gave me a real thrill to make him laugh, too, because I think the smarter someone is, the more difficult of a task that is. And, he was extremely cute when he laughed.

I won at Scrabble, but it was close. As we packed up the letter tiles, Laurel cleared her throat and said "I have an idea."

My eyes darted guiltily between Laurel's and Brad's, before focusing intently on the game pieces, since I already knew what the idea was. Brad held Laurel's gaze. Laurel continued, "I think we should have a threesome."

Brad exclaimed, "You're joking!" He laughed, this time out of pure adrenaline. His eyes grew serious and he leaned forward in his seat, gesturing with both hands, and said in a lower voice, "You are not serious, are you?"

Laurel smiled and said, "As a heart attack."

Brad asked, "What do you mean, 'we?'" narrowing his eyes slightly.

Laurel said, "The three of us, here."

Brad turned to me and asked, "And what do you think of this?"

I smiled shyly, and said "I think it's a great idea."

This seemed to bewilder Brad even more. "You're married!" he said, exasperatedly.

"Well," I said, matter-of-factly, "you are well aware that things have not been going well for some time. And I've wanted to have sex with you since the moment we met. Plus, I'm an opportunist, and Laurel is too good looking to be suggesting something like this to you and I."

That last remark earned a chuckle from Brad and Laurel, both.

"If it helps any," said Laurel, "we got to second base in the bathroom at dinner, so we're already in trouble."

"What?!" shouted Brad, aghast, before disssolving in laughter. "I knew something was weird, and I knew you were wearing a different color of lipstick earlier," he said, pointing at Laurel. "How long has this been happening, between you two?" he asked, looking at me.

"Literally at the restaurant!" I said, slightly breathlessly. "I kind of got ambushed, but also Laurel is a very good kisser." I could feel myself blushing.

"So is she," said Laurel, making me blush more. I noticed that Brad was sporting an erection. And naturally, he immediately caught me looking. I met his eyes, apologetically, but could not conceal my amusement that we had his full attention.

Brad tilted his head and appeared to be deep in thought. After a moment, he appeared to conclude his deliberation. "Well," said Brad, thoughtfully, "could I see it? Purely academically, of course. So I know if you're good kissers?" he smirked.

Laurel and I locked eyes and smiled. We got him. I draped my hand behind Laurel's neck and looked at Brad while moving my lips toward Laurel's. My lips touched Laurel's and Brad's expression of disbelief transformed to one of desire. I fluttered my eyes shut and kissed Laurel, deeply. She kissed me back, exploring my mouth with her tongue. I sucked and nibbled her lower lip. Her mouth moved down my neck, kissing and nibbling, making me groan with longing.

I peeked an eye open at Brad, and he was stroking his cock through his pants while watching. It's such an odd thing for our relationship to change into something different after such a long time of knowing Brad platonically. Although, in a sense, this is always what we had been: two people with chemistry, flirting and teasing each other.

I returned my attention to Laurel, who was still teasing my neck, and opened another two of the fabric-covered buttons on her dress, before folding open the fabric to reveal her brassiere. I turned my head to peek at it: it was black, lace, and unlined. I felt a twinge of envy- her bust was full enough that she was pulling off the look. I cupped a breast in each hand and teased her nipples with my fingers, eliciting moans from Laurel. She surfaced from my neck and kissed me, hard, pushing me backwards on the couch as she straddled me. My hands moved to her shoulders in the maneuver as we continued passionately kissing. She took the hand nearest Brad, sucked on the index and middle fingers, and placed it on her thigh, at the hem of her dress.