THICK and THIN
The End
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Lance!" Chrissy skips across to him, throws her arms around his neck and pins him back against the door with a kiss.
Stunned, I find myself in one of my weed-enhanced moments of
Analyst Nerd
observation and analysis. They're nearly the same height, so their mouths came together easily, no angling up or down. He'd been wearing jeans by the barbecue, but now he has on loose-fitting workout pants. His red Coleman cooler jug and a cloth drawstring bag sit at his feet. On his feet are sandals instead of the Vans from earlier.
The kiss hasn't ended when my feet finally start moving toward the door, but fortunately it does before I arrive.
"Hey, partner," Lance smiles at me.
"Hey," I respond in a voice that sounds flat and lifeless even to me.
His smile diminishes. "Hey, you alright?"
Then, "I thought you knew."
Then, to Chrissy, "Baby, didn't Bryan know you invited me up?"
She gets that little girl smile, the one that acknowledges guilt, but not repentance.
"Well, not really, but I knew he wouldn't mind."
She takes her arms from around Lance's neck and puts them around mine. Her face close to mine, she whispers, "Yes, yes and yes," reminding me of what I'd said just seconds earlier. Kissing me lightly, one hand drops down from my neck and grips my package. "Your wife is ready for you to share her again." She kisses me harder and I find myself kissing her back.
"That's more like it," laughs Bryan. "I was afraid this party was ending before it even got started."
He picks up his gear from the floor and I unlock the door.
Inside, he theatrically thrusts his nose up in the air and inhales. "Okay, so you two definitely have got things off to a good start."
"And what did you bring to the party?" Chrissy asks teasingly.
He holds up the Coleman. "Some fresh margaritas, although I purposely made them on the weak side, since we've already lowered our inhibitions." He lowers the cooler and raises the cloth bag in his other hand by its drawstrings. "Of course, if anyone wants to add some extra kick..."
Chrissy pulls the bag open, reaches inside and brings a bottle part way out by its neck. It's a half-full bottle of Silver Patrón; real glass this time, no old Fanta bottles.
She smiles. "Well, aren't you a considerate guest?" She leans in and kisses him as she lets the bottle slide back into the bag. "I'll get glasses," she says after breaking the lip lock.
As Chrissy walks into the kitchen, Lance and I go to the loveseat end of the seating area. He puts the cooler jug and bottle of tequila on the coffee table, lays his bag on the floor by the guitar stool and picks up my Gibson.
"Were you playing earlier?"
Before I can respond, Chrissy answers him from the kitchen with a laugh. "We tried, but just like last weekend, it's hard to sing and play at the same time as you're trying to not let your joint just burn away in the ashtray."
I find myself saddened that I played three love songs for her and what she remembers most is that they interfered with us getting high.
She carries over a tray with margarita goblets and shot glasses, as well as salt and lime wedges on two dessert plates. After she puts the tray down, Lance begins filling the goblets.
Chrissy unbuttons and removes her bulky cardigan, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her shoulders and a pair of nipples that look like they might cut right through her dress. She holds out the sweater to me with a 'Thank you, honey,' look on her face.
I take it and step back to the entry door. I fold her sweater and place it on the seat of a straightback chair and hang my fleece on a coat hook.
Back at the table, Lance is moving the tequila bottle from Chrissy's margarita to his; they've apparently both opted for a little extra kick. I decline when he holds the bottle near my cup. My wife picks up her margarita and Lance picks up two, holding the un-doctored one out to me. We make a three-way toast, although no one gives it words.
"Mm, tasty," says Chrissy, before kissing Lance again. An active, lingering kiss. "Very tasty!" she says when she finally breaks away.
Lance has a hand on one of her hips and if I didn't know better, I'd swear he was pushing her back to me even as he's gazing deep into her eyes.
She spins away from Lance and towards me, taking a deep drink of her margarita. Pressing up against me her nipples are hard, her lips cold. Sweet and salty, with a touch of sour and the sting of the tequila. My God, she tastes good and she feels good and my cock springs to life.
My free hand comes up of its own accord and I squeeze one small breast before taking the nipple between thumb and forefinger. She puts her hand on top of mine and presses them both tight against her chest while also pushing forward with her body, so that her nipple is being crushed against her ribs.
After a few moments of tasting her tongue and feeling her heart beating hard under my palm, she pulls away and turns back toward Lance, clearly moving in for another kiss. I put my cup to my lips and drink, seriously considering throwing in some more tequila after all.
Lance also puts a hand up to her chest. But instead of massaging her tit, he's holding her back. "You know, Bryan was planning on a private night with you. And you didn't tell me that was still his expectation when you invited me up here. So, you've put us both into awkward and uncomfortable positions."
"But," begins Chrissy, but Lance holds a finger up against her lips to shush her.
