A Friday to Remember

Disclaimer: This story occasionally refers to events in my other submission "Diane, Lorena, and Me." It should stand up by itself, but you might read the first story before reading this one. As always, this is a work of fiction. All characters are over eighteen and any resemblance to individuals living or dead is purely coincidental. Be advised that this is also a story about wife sharing and it contains male to male contact. If any of these things offend you, you really don't have to read on. This is only my third story. Constructive comments, especially from other Lit authors, are most welcome.

*****

I heard glasses clinking and looked up to see my junior colleague Eric at my office door.

"Hey man, want a drink?" he asked.

"After that meeting I could sure use one" I said as I waived him into my office. "Hillary can't shut the fuck up can she?" I wondered out loud.

"Nooo she can't" Eric offered as he poured two fingers of bourbon into each of the tumblers. "Cheers!"

My name is Mike. I recently left my job at a major museum to become a "professor of practice" at a nearby university. The money wasn't quite as good, but the hours were far better, I liked the teaching, and with my retirement buyout from the museum and a fairly nice royalty check from my latest book my wife Diane and I decided to cut back a little and enjoy life a bit more as we eased into our retirement. Some of my colleagues hated me for walking into such a cushy position without paying my dues on the nerve-wracking tenure track, but I really didn't give a shit. Eric was a good egg though. Still rather junior in the department, he came to academe a somewhat later in his life as well.

"So what's up for you this evening?" Eric asked.

I waved my hand over the stack of papers on my desk. "I'm going to catch up on some of this grading."

"On a Friday night, Mike you can't do that!" Eric said feigning shock at the idea.

"Well Diane's in New York with Lorena, I have nothing better to do."

"Lorena huh?" Eric asked as a lascivious smile broke across his face.

Diane and I had a threesome with our good friend Lorena a few months earlier which totally recharged our struggling marriage. I'd told Eric about it one night when we were pissed to the wind at a conference. Even though he has a hot young wife, he's still a bit of a horn dog and the two of us like to share stories from some of the naughty predicaments we've found ourselves in over the years. What Eric didn't know, is that Lorena had moved in with us and we were now in the midst of a rather unconventional triad lifestyle.

"C'mon man. You're coming over for dinner with Bess and me." Eric insisted

"Gee, I can either eat your cooking or grade papers...hmmm." I teased.

"Don't worry man, I won't poison you." Eric shot back.

I was kidding of course. Eric and I are the resident gourmets in our department. So it was settled. I'd start the weekend in the weeds with my grading, and most likely, knowing my penchant for procrastination, I'd end it that way too. The students would be pissed on Monday. Ah well, they don't deserve instant gratification anyway.

We finished our bourbons and I followed Eric to his place.

"Mike!" Bess beamed as I walked in the door. "It's so good to see you! Eric didn't tell me you were coming over." Bess seemed to be gushing as she hugged me tight and gave me a friendly peck on the lips.

"Well, he seduced me with a promise of his special crab cakes."

"I'm so glad you came" she said hooking her arm in mine and walking me into the house, "we haven't seen you since the party."

I followed Eric and Bess into their kitchen. Eric's love of food had led them to spend a small fortune on a new kitchen remodel. They had a six burner Wolf stove, a Subzero frig, and a host of gadgets and appliances that would make any foodie hard just looking around the place.

"Mike, I'll start the crab cakes. Why don't you mix us some cocktails?" Eric asked merrily.

"Sure thing man. Bess, what would you like?"

"Mmm I think I'll have a martini." She said.

Eric raised one eyebrow, a skill I never quite acquired, and flashed a naughty smile—"Martini huh? They make you a little crazy babe" he taunted.

"Oh why not?" She pouted. "We have our wild and crazy pal Mike over. I need a little lubrication to keep up with you two jocular wits."

We all laughed.

"Ok Eric," I replied, "are we sticking with the brown or should we go clear and join your lovely wife with a martini?"

"Olives it is!" Eric decided and gave me a high-five.

I walked into the den and got busy behind the wet bar. We'd socialized a good bit in the last year, so I pretty much knew my way around their house. I pulled out a bottle of Hendricks from the cabinet as Bess walked into the room with an ice bucket and a cold bottle of Dolin Extra Dry. I noticed an unopened container of these lovely Sicilian olives that they sell as a gourmet store near the campus on the side of the bar. I began the ritual. We take our cocktails as seriously as our food. I filled three champagne coupes (we all preferred those to traditional martini glasses) with ice and water and set them aside to chill. I poured a dollup of the vermouth into the shaker, swished it around, and poured the rest down the sink. I measured out three portions of gin and filled the shaker with ice. Then I got perverted. At least that's what one of our friends, Emma the bartender, would have thought, I shook the gin vigorously with ice, emptied the glasses then strained the concoction into the chilled saucers. Emma always says that shaking "bruises the gin," but that's the way the three of us like our martinis. I then put two olives each on crystal cocktail tooth picks and placed them gently into the glasses that sparkled with the cold gin and little flecks of ice and Bess and I carried them into the kitchen.

Eric was standing over the stove watching two pots. One had diced potatoes that he was waiting on to become "fork tender" and another had boiling water which I quickly realized was for some beautiful green beans from their garden that he was going to blanch.

"Hey hun, can you get that tray of crabcakes out of the fridge for me?" Eric asked Bess as he put two skillets on to heat.

Bess replied, "Sure babe, but first . . ." she said as she handed him his drink. "Here's to good friends, good spirits, and good food on a beautiful Friday night!"

"Cheers!" we all chimed in unison.

Bess retrieved the crab cakes from the fridge.

"Man those look great Eric, what did you use to bind them this time?" I asked. It was an ongoing conversation. Eric and I both loved crab cakes and living this close to the Eastern Shore meant that great seafood was always available. We often experimented with different recipes. My favorite, of late, was a really simple one: Jumbo Lump (always), some finely chopped Vidalia onions, green pepper, and a small jalapeno bound with salt, pepper, egg, Lea & Perrin, a little lemon juice, hot sauce, a pinch of Old Bay, and crushed club crackers.

"I'm trying my spin on a New Orleans style recipe I saw online. It's from one of the famous hotel restaurants. They bind the cakes with—get this—ground shrimp! I prepped them this morning and put them in the fridge uncovered to set up a bit."

"Yum!" was all I could say.

Eric tested the potatoes and pulled them off the stove to drain. He melted some Plugra in one of the hot skillets and placed the potatoes in to brown as he seasoned them generously with salt and pepper. As the taters sizzled he poured some grapeseed oil and added a pat of the luscious butter into the other pan. Just as it began to shimmer, he gently nestled three of the most beautifully shaped crab cakes I'd ever seen into the hot skillet. Bess tightly wrapped the remaining three cakes and put them in their freezer.

Bess retrieved some silverware, and napkins from the cupboard. "Hey babe, it's such a pretty night, want to eat on the patio?" She asked.

"Perfect! Eric replied.

Eric kept tossing the potatoes as we talked and kept a patient eye on the crab cakes. They can be tricky. If you're impatient and start prodding at them before they're done on one side, they'll fall apart, but they can also overcook and become too brown quite easily. It's kinda like eating pussy...you don't want to rush things, but you do need to move along. After a few minutes he flipped the cakes and gave a vigorous toss to the potatoes finishing them with a bit more salt and pepper. As he began to plate the potatoes, he asked me to blanch the beans. I poured them into the boiling water with some salt for a good minute then shocked them in an ice bath. Eric asked me to retrieve a bowl of homemade rémoulade sauce from the fridge. He smeared the sauce on the side of the cakes and finished each with a few grains of Fleur de Sel. I drained the beans as he kicked the crab cake skillet up to high and added some butter. Handing him the strainer he tossed the beans in for a quick sear and plated them expertly. I admired his élan in the kitchen.

We walked to the patio with our plates just as Bess was opening a lovely Vigonier. We all dove right in, hungry from a hard week and from watching and smelling Eric's handiwork in the kitchen.

"So where's Diane tonight Mike?" Bess asked.

"Oh she's in New York with our friend Lorena."

"Lorena? Is she that sweet blonde that was at your last party? I talked to her for quite awhile, she seems really nice." Bess inquired.

"Yes that's her" I answered as I caught Eric giving me a wicked smirk. "I just got a nice royalty check, so I splurged and arranged a trip for them, first class flight, tickets for Hamilton, I even put them up at the Knickerbocker in Midtown."

"The Knickerbocker! Home of the martini!" Bess exclaimed as she drained the rest of her coupe.

We had a lovely meal. As always, the conversation was every bit as good as the food and wine. Eric and I gossiped to Bess about our co-workers. He replayed Hillary's rant about how we needed to stop using the word "freshman" in our department meeting today because it was sexist. On top of the martinis and the wine we quickly approached the pinnacle of conviviality.

When we'd demolished all of the food and nearly drained the wine Bess stood up and started clearing. She told us, "sit tight guys. I'll put the plates in the dishwasher and clean up the pots in the morning."

Eric and I chatted a bit while Bess was in the kitchen. "I bet Diane and Lorena are going at it right now" he said smiling.

I just laughed and said "you don't know the half of it. Lorena moved in with us a couple of months ago. It's been a non-stop menage a trois since then. The main reason I arranged for the trip is that I needed a break. But it's been three days and..."

"You dirty bastard!" He laughed "how do you keep up with those hot milfs at your age?"

"Asshole" I shot back smiling. "You know medical science is a wonderful thing. I complained to the doctor about frequent urination and he wrote me a prescription for a daily dose of that erectile dysfunction drug that treats frequent pissing as well."

"Nice" he replied, smiling and shaking his head as if to say "you lucky prick."

"Hey! and for the record, fifty-eight is not old. You'll see. You're only a few years away from the big five-oh yourself. How are you going to keep up with that hot young wife of yours (Bess had only just turned thirty two)?

"Don't I know it" he responded, "she's really starting to hit her prime. It's a good thing that Herman (he patted his crotch when he said that) is a very active and happy fellow." He started to say something else just as Bess emerged with a beautiful cheesecake she'd made that afternoon. He stopped as soon as she opened the screen door.

"Why so quiet all of a sudden?" Bess asked "You boys talking about me?"

"No way hun" Eric replied, that perfect cheesecake you're carrying has just rendered us both speechless."

"Uh huh" she smirked. "Coffee?"

"Mmm none for me, I'll be up all night." I said.

"Same here" Eric chimed in "cognac?"

"Now you're talking!" Bess and I answered at the same time. She smiled at me as we said that. Her eyes shined so beautifully in the moonlight.

I thought to myself "what a lucky sonofabitch he is." Bess was a stunning woman. She didn't have supermodel looks or a hard body, in fact there was a little bit of nerdiness about her, but to me, she was one of the sexiest young women I'd ever met. She had a brilliant, nimble mind full of wit and fresh insights. It didn't hurt, though, that she dressed pretty much like a hot young soccer mom although they didn't have kids. They'd been trying to get pregnant for the past year, but no luck. She had a nice figure but she didn't work out, take pilates classes, or go to the gym. She kept it up by dieting during the week and walking in the park every day. She was trim and fit, but also soft and supple. Bess liked to wear sleeveless blouses that showed off her feminine, rounded shoulders, and she either wore V-necks or kept a few buttons undone to show off the cleavage of her beautiful 34c's which were just a little too big for her slight frame. She had soft brown hair that she kept cut in a bob just a few inches down the nape of her sexy neck. It contrasted beautifully with her fair, creamy complexion. Her brown eyes were quite pretty, in an unconventional way. She had small eyes that actually seemed to bulge a bit, on some people they would be unattractive, but she wore stylish black glasses and her prescription was so strong that it magnified them in a lovely, soulful way. Her lips were full and inviting, they concealed a slight, sexy overbite. She had this cute little brown mole just to the left of the center of her neck that turned me on the minute I saw her for the first time, oh how I wanted to kiss that neck! I started to get a stiffy as I looked at her. "Down boy!" I said to myself.

Eric was really becoming my best pal and I didn't want to hit on his wife and ruin our friendship, not that she'd want anything to do with an old fart like me! But then again Eric was no prize either. Although I sported salt and pepper (mostly salt these days) hair and a bit of extra padding (a shrinking bit since Lorena moved in with us), he was short, squat, rather powerfully built, though he wasn't in great shape, academics don't always exercise as much as they should. He was a ginger, but his hair was more to the brown side of the spectrum, at least what he had left of it. Like many guys with male pattern baldness, he kept his close cropped with a clipper and usually wore a day or two of growth on his face keeping all of the hair on his head at approximately the same length. He had a handsome face, sparkling, devilish blue eyes and the kind of dimples women swooned over, especially when he smiled which was often. "Lucky sonofabitch" I thought.

Bess scooted inside and came back with three snifters and a bottle of Pere Ferrand Ambre. We moved from our chairs at the table to the comfy wicker ones on the other side of the patio and devoured our cheesecake. We were a little too close to the city to see many stars, but the moon was full and bright. The weather had been glorious. Even though it was the end of May, it hadn't gotten hot yet. The temperature was mild and the air was dry. A slightly cool breeze had picked up.

I happened to look over at Bess and noticed that she'd felt the breeze as well. I could see the tips of her hard nipples poking against the fabric of her blouse. She caught me staring and gave me a little smile. "It's getting chilly" she said demurely and went inside to get a cover up. Did she wink at me when she said that?

Once again I had to tell myself "down boy!"

When Bess came back we all chatted contentedly, enjoying the excellent cognac and their lovely backyard.

Eric and I are both enthusiastic drinkers. Although Bess had only sipped half of her glass, ours were empty. He reached for the bottle and offered it to me. I readily accepted.

By the time Bess finished her first, Eric was reaching to pour us thirds.

"Ok, if you boys are going to have another that's fine with me" she said, "but Mike I need your keys. You'll have to stay on the couch tonight because the guestroom is still under renovation."

"No problem Bess, I can drive, you know I'm a pro" I protested.

"Uh uh" She shook her head sternly. "Buzzed driving is drunk driving, so give me your keys sporto."

How could I resist this beautiful, strong intelligent woman? I fished my keys out of my pocket and handed them over. Bess came over and took them from my hand and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Good boy" she said as she patted me on the head.

Ok fellas, I'm going in for a shower before bed. Don't stay up too late she said as she gave Eric a pretty nice kiss on the lips.

"Goodnight Michael" she said formally and gave me another peck on the lips.

Eric and I sat for a minute and downed our third cognac.

"It is getting chilly out here" he said "let's go into the den."

I followed Eric inside and plopped down on the couch as he switched on the radio to the university station. They had a lovely eclectic jazz show that aired on Friday nights from eight to midnight. He went into the kitchen and came back with a couple of nice craft beers in pilsner glasses that his friend had brought him from Wisconsin.

"Perfect!" I said. "Cheers!" As we clinked glasses, I smiled at him acknowledging that this gesture was his way of telling me I'd won our last gourmet argument. Eric liked to frost beer glasses and the last time we were together I'd argued that frosting glasses only watered down the beer. He was adamant that it didn't, but he must have done a bit of research and had now come over to my way of thinking. Jeez we're a couple of geeks!

"Hey man, since you're not driving . . ." he said with a devilish smile as he popped up from the couch and walked over to his bookshelf. He came back with a small wooden box.

"Oh man is this stuff your brother's special homegrown?" I asked as he pulled some buds from the box and his grinder.

"You're in for a treat bro!" he said as he rolled a joint.

We passed the joint back and forth and each took a couple of tokes before Eric snuffed it out. It was really good shit! Between the drinks and the ganja we were both pretty buzzed and happy. Eric started telling me about this hilarious exchange with Dean Simmons he'd had on Thursday. The dean had no sense of humor and Eric was recounting a series of sexual puns and innuendos that he'd thrown into their conversation noting that the she didn't pick up on any of them. We were giggling like school girls when Bess came back into the room.

"Oh my God Eric! Weed? Really? REALLY!" she laughed. "Should I turn off the radio and put on some Pink Floyd?"

"Hey we're not THAT old" he said. "Well maybe Mike is" he chuckled as I punched him on the arm.

Bess went into the kitchen and came back with a glass of red wine and two more beers. She plopped down between us on the sofa.

My god she was intoxicating! I love the smell of a wet woman right out of the pool, the ocean, the rain, or the shower. Bess had only towel dried her hair a little and it was still damp and she smelled of water, soap, and her delicious herbal shampoo. I just inhaled quietly as I took her in. She'd changed into a pair of very tight floral pajama shorts that were so sexy, showing off her lovely thighs. Bess had slipped on a ribbed white cotton tank top, no bra, and I just let my eyes rest on the armholes, side boobs, and bulges where her nipples gently puckered against the fabric.

I looked at Eric who gave me a lecherous grin as if to say "you like what you see don't you? You dirty old perv."

Bess reached for the joint, lit it, and took a long toke. She passed it to me. I noticed Eric looking at her with that raised eyebrow thing he does.