Synopsis: Pete and Sarah have a threesome with one of Sarah's "regulars."
Part III - Our Story
Chapter Eighteen
The first thing Sarah said the next morning as we sat down to eat breakfast was, "God, I feel like I was fucked by a Marine regiment! My pussy still feels stretched out of shape!"
Then she looked at me. "Paul asked me last night if we could get together again tonight?"
Honestly, I didn't know what to say. On the one hand, I was still suffering what I think was a small emotional hangover, but on the other, remembering the intense eroticism I had felt as I watched my beloved impale herself on Paul's massive member, my cock evidently had other ideas, and it twitched as if to remind me of that fact. Still, I wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of an encore. "Tell you what," I said slowly, "suppose we try something different."
Seeing the expression on Sarah's face, I quickly added, "I know how you feel toward Paul, and I respect that. I was merely going to suggest we go for broke.
"Let's invite him over here," I said. "We can have a dinner catered in -- or, I could even fix my world famous Mulligan stew. There's no reason we should waste a lot of time and money in a fancy restaurant when we all know the purpose of the evening is to enjoy as much sex as possible."
While my suggestion was almost an attempt to be flippant, it suddenly made a lot of sense. I knew I'd be more comfortable in my home surroundings and that the chance of the sort of intimacy I had found disturbing in the taxi the previous night was unlikely to be repeated here.
Sarah looked doubtful, but she was a good sport about it. "Do you think you'd be more comfortable here?"
I nodded. The more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded.
"OK, then," Sarah said, "but no Mulligan stew! Let's have a nice dinner catered in. I'll arrange it at the office. You might spend a few minutes picking things up around here so the place is halfway presentable."
Alas, the best laid plans . . . Sarah called shortly after noon. "Paul won't be able to make it. He's already left for his home office."
I can't say I shared the disappointment I heard in Sarah's voice, but I tried to console her. "There's always a next time, dear . . ."
As it turned out, if Paul had been able to come to dinner, things might have become a little sticky. Willa, who had become an almost constant companion to Karen, unexpectedly came home almost immediately after dinner (I had fixed Mulligan stew, after all). Sarah was in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. I was very surprised to see Willa standing in the hall.
"Where's your key?"
She smiled apologetically. "I couldn't find it in this mess." She held up a crowded key ring. "I know it's there somewhere, but I was afraid that if you heard me trying every key until I found it, that you might have thought burglars were at the door!"
She followed me into the apartment and went directly into the kitchen. It was obviously time for some girl talk. I heard the low murmur of voices over the sound of the dish washer. After several minutes, Willa and Sarah came into the living room where I was reading the evening paper.
"Pete, Willa has a proposition for us. Hear what she has to say. I think she makes pretty good sense."
Sarah sat on the couch while Willa chose the chair directly across from mine. She came right to the point. "Pete, something has come up and I think maybe you and Sarah might be the solution."
She paused as if collecting her thoughts. I waited for the rest of it. "Karen had a check bounce this afternoon." She paused again, as if waiting for my comment.
"That's the way things happen, sometimes," I said philosophically.
"You don't understand, Pete. She's broke and she's terrified. All she owns is the house and part of the cabinet shop which hasn't been doing so hot lately. Apparently what money they had was spent on medical bills and David's funeral. The son-of-bitch who ran into them is dead and it turns out he didn't have any insurance. I know what it's like to be broke!
"Karen doesn't know I'm over here talking to you two -- she'd have a hissy if she did. She's planning to go to the bank tomorrow and take out a mortgage on her house -- but with her scars, her modeling career is over, and she really has no way of paying off any mortgage she might get."
I started to ask what she thought we could do, but she silenced me by holding up her hand. Sarah spoke for the first time. "Let her finish, Pete."
"I got this brainstorm this afternoon. The Olerud house is a regular mansion. I know you've been over there plenty of times, but I'll bet you haven't seen the whole thing. There are at least six, maybe seven closed rooms upstairs that are sealed shut. The radiators in those rooms have been shut off and drained so they won't freeze. The same thing with the entire third floor. That's a lot of empty space. . ."
I was beginning to see where she was going. "You want us to give up the apartment and move into Karen's house? Is that the idea?" I thought Willa was going to kiss me.
"Well, yes," she said hesitantly. "But not all at once. I'm not at all sure how Karen would take it if you put it to her like that. She's a very proud woman and I'm sure would react badly if she thought for one minute that you were offering her charity. My idea is that Pete and Rick, both being carpenters, might suggest converting some of that house into an apartment --God knows it's big enough.
"Actually, half of Rick's family already lives there, but that's a different problem. One they'll have to settle. What do you think, Pete?"
