A Night with Friends

There was just the three of us that night. Jodie, my partner of a few years, sat silently on the lounge with her legs tucked tightly up under her small body. She was lost to the rest of the room engrossed in a well worn soft cover book. Her head and body were motionless but her blue eyes darted quickly across the pages hungrily devouring the words. Her long dark hair hung forward shadowing her face from the weak light. I noticed that her 'comfy' shorts had crept up to the top of her thighs revealing her nicely toned legs. I knew she was sexy but, strangely perhaps, she had never really lived what would be considered a very sexual life.

Gary, the other person in the room besides myself, had also noticed Jodie's shorts had ridden up to reveal her legs and was dumbly staring in that direction. He was a nice guy, there was no doubting that. Underneath his gruff exterior he was actually quite sensitive. Just the same, he didn't miss much when it came to sexualising women. Gary was the kind of 'nice guy' that pretty much everyone knows at some stage of their lives. He was quiet but assured, comfortable with who he was in a way that not everyone easily achieves. I always felt this confidence arose from a kind of naivety about the world. He just wasn't aware that others experienced the world differently to the way he did.

In fact, Jodie and I didn't share much in common at all with Gary. To begin with he was quite a lot older than we were. This wasn't always a problem but we sometimes wanted different things out of our days. Gary liked to go camping while we liked the urbane inner-city lifestyle of art shows and theatre. Not a minor contributor to the differences was a result of him being a builder. He was blue collar while we were both university educated and building 'city' careers.

Gary was the kind of guy that was forty going on twenty. Whenever I think of Gary, even today, I remember his handle bar moustache and his playful sense of humour. He kept his moustache long after everyone else had moved on. I always felt this moustache, this statement that I am going to be what and who I am, exemplified Gary's whole involvement in the world. On most people this commitment to 70's fashion would have been ridiculous but, with Gary, it was, well Gary. Indeed, in his easy going way, everything that Gary did suited Gary. He was one of the most authentic people we knew in what was at times our very inauthentic world.

"What are we going to do?" I asked finally growing bored with the extended silence.

Jodie adjusted her legs, swept her black hair back and returned to her book as though nothing had been said. Gary managed to remove his gaze from Jodie's legs and looked at me expecting me to answer my own question.

"It's just that I'm not going to sit in this dump and watch T.V. all night" I continued as though needing to justify my earlier question.

This was how we spent many of our nights together. Jodie would sit reading, looking up only occasionally, to roll her eyes and exhale maternally in response to some juvenile humour that Gary and I were exchanging. Gary would be slouched in our armchair, drinking his cans of beer that seemed to continuously breed in our fridge. Often he would have a deck of cards ordered in messy rows of various lengths splayed across the small coffee table. I, in turn, would sit in my armchair talking about something that had grabbed my attention over the day. Gary and Jodie would generally manage to respond enough to keep me interested but would not respond in a way that might give me cleavage to argue further. The night would drift in and out of conversation, conversation broken by laughter and silence. I'm not complaining. These were pleasant unassuming times, times I still look back on with fondness, but I wasn't going to have that kind of time again, not on this night.

"Let's have a game of cards at least," I suggested seeing the tattered box of thick well worn cards sitting on a shelf within easy reach of Gary's chair.

"That's sooo exciting," Jodie said, managing to lift her head briefly over her thick book only to quickly return apparently satisfied that her contribution to the conversation was complete.

"I'm in," Gary said over enthusiastically as he crushed the now empty aluminium can in his hand. For him to agree so readily indicated that he must have been as bored as I was, "What do we play?"

I got up and poured myself and Jodie a solid scotch. "What about our old favourite, twenty-one?" I suggested.

I passed Jodie her drink and she finished it in two open mouthed gulps. She then indicated with a wave of her now empty tumbler that she too would play.

"The book not working?" I asked surprised at her preparedness to join in.

"A women can't live by words alone," she replied, indicating to me that the few drinks that she had already finished were having an effect.

We moved in around the small coffee table playing cards with little enthusiasm but a lot of drinking. This, again, was nothing unusual. Jodie and I were in our early twenties and, like many at that age, alcohol pretty much fuelled all our social occasions no matter how loosely the description of 'social occasion' was being used.

Gary was a pretty big drinker generally. He would drink twice as much as everyone else but somehow managed to at least appear sober. Gary was a big guy and this might explain his amazing drinking capacity. He stood at least 6'4" and was solid. I wouldn't think of him as being 'fat' but he was 'large'. Large is a term that may have been used to describe him in the not too distant past. His hands were huge and calloused as a result of his labours. His overall size hid just how tall he was, it was only when you stood next to him, or worse still, played a game of football against him, that his size really became evident. He never used his size like many 'big' men did. He didn't, for example, like towering over people or being the tough guy in the pub, he was just a big guy and Gary was comfortable with that. Gary was comfortable with most things.

By our third game of cards Jodie was getting pretty drunk. She was a small girl. Sometimes people would comment that she was too thin. They would recommend that she should eat more so as to put on some weight. These comments would always receive steely stairs in response. Jodie would complain angrily afterwards that it was none of their business what she ate or what her weight was. These men, and men it inevitably was that always passed comment, should look after their own bodies a little better before commenting on others. I always agreed that this was a fair comment. Fat, old, out of shape men commenting on women's bodies was invasive at least, while, at the same time, their comments were unfounded. It certainly wasn't a lack of eating that kept Jodie thin. She ate everything and anything she wanted. Other women would probably describe her as 'lucky' but I don't think Jodie thought in these terms.

Her other attribute that some might consider 'lucky' was that she happened to be blessed with the nicest pair of breasts that I have ever seen. These breasts were so special that I used to think the rather ridiculous idea that I felt sorry for men who would never experience making love to someone with such nicely shaped breasts. They were firm and large but certainly not huge. I personally never liked the fake-looking jutting breasts that seem to be worshipped in porn magazines. Their breasts appear swollen, even brutalised, like collagen enlarged lips. Jodie's breasts, in contrast, hung down nicely under their own weight with upturned tips that were topped of with nicely shaped pink nipples. It might seem ridiculous to talk of breasts in these terms, almost religiously, but they were definitely special breasts. Because of her petite frame her breasts appeared even bigger than what they were. I must say that they really were beautiful. Perhaps not surprisingly considering her personality, she was quite self -conscious about them, as men always stared just at her breasts. I always told her that she should show them off but, I am in the end, just another man.

"What do we do now?" I half drawled gulping down another mouthful of scotch, "I'm pretty much over this card game."

"Well, I'm not ready for bed" Jodie chipped in perhaps seeing me tending to the dozy stage of alcohol consumption.

"How about a game of strip poker?" Gary asked with his usual eagerness to see Jodie naked. There was nothing malicious or dirty about these ongoing attempts. He was, well Gary, and Gary just wanted to see Jodie naked. He would see it as his duty, as a man, to try to see Jodie naked. Jodie didn't mind. At times Gary and Jodie would flirt quite outrageously. They would often get to the point where it became a challenge to see who would go further. Which one could push further until the other backed down. Jodie had said to me several times that she didn't really find Gary attractive, he wasn't really her 'type', she would say as women so ambiguously often comment regarding men. By this I guess she meant he was pretty rough in his behaviour and 'traditional', to be polite, in his views about women. These two values Jodie didn't really appreciate generally but, in Gary, as he was such a nice guy, it didn't bother her. Although they had had a few ups and downs in their relationship they did remain friends. Gary was, just Gary. What more could be said.

"How do you play?" Jodie asked sounding surprisingly curious, "I've never played it before".

Gary almost fell of his chair simply at the possibility that Jodie did not simply reject the idea. He leaned forward with sudden attentiveness to explain the 'basics'. After ten minutes of Gary waving his arms broadly around the room and then throwing cards on the table in various configurations Jodie was still lost. He had, after all, delivered at least ten different versions as he went about 'instructing'. Jodie and I realised that Gary had no better idea on how to play than we had and, therefore, if we wanted to play we would have to make up the rules ourselves.

I was pretty drunk by then and felt a little tingle in my crotch at the idea of watching Jodie take off her clothes in front of old Gary. Not that I thought she, or indeed that he, would go 'all the way' but I was prepared to see how far they would go or, perhaps more to the point, how far would I let them go.

"Come on lets play", I encouraged, "We'll make the rules up as we go along, as usual."

Gary looked at me and then at Jodie. I could see his mind tumbling over on what to say next. 'Too keen', he was thinking, 'and I blow it with Jodie'. 'Too reticent and I sound as though I don't want to play.' You could watch the thoughts walk openly across his face. He thought he was being smart, as though he was in the driving seat of what was happening. He was thinking that if he plays it right he could see a bit of tit before the night was over. If only he new what that night held.

Looking back now, I must admit that perhaps Gary was a little bit in control. His amazing ability to drink all night and stay sober was perhaps paying off. The thing I want to make clear though is that I could see what he was thinking. I could see his attempts to make a situation happen and I just let it go. I assume Jodie, who was quite sexually inexperienced but certainly no fool, also knew what was happening. That is, if anything did happen that night we at least began all pretty much on the same page. None of us were tricked.

"Why don't we play until we feel like stopping," Gary casually chipped in.

Well done, I thought, that was pretty much the right tone for the situation. Not too 'needy' that would force us to stop nor too distance that might suggest to us that he wanted to stop. I could see that as the prospect of playing strip poker became more likely his excitement grew. I could feel his anticipation emanating from every jerking action from his body as he tried to stay calm.

Jodie looked across at me so as to gauge how I felt about the whole thing. This is a 'couple thing' that, after many years, you both become quite good at. For my part I did want to play and enjoy the promise of difference that the night offered but, at the same time, I wanted to keep control of the situation. I wanted whatever unfolded to unfold on my terms, under situations that I was happy with and not on someone else's terms. I knew that this hope was actually impossible. At best, if we went ahead, I could only influence how the night went.

I looked back at Jodie, she was pretty drunk but not, I guessed, out of control. She sat on the floor, legs crossed and, unlike ten minutes before, she was tense. The heightened atmosphere of the room was exhilarating. Her dark hair hung down onto her pale shoulders that were only covered by the spaghetti strings of her emerald green singlet top. Underneath the thin straps you could see the thicker lacy straps of her purple bra. Although dressed casually for a night sitting at home reading a book, her clothes appeared, at that time at least, as being a little suggestive. As though she had gone into the room with the intention of being dressed to kill. The material of her singlet top sat tightly over her firm breasts and, as she twisted her body to face me, I could see the definition of her toned body underneath. I was torn between sending Gary home and making love to her right there or going with the flow of the night. I could feel the tension, the sexuality, the desire to go into places we had never been before. From that time on no-one in the room was simply drunk with alcohol. There was a new intoxication in the air and we all drank it in.

"Why don't we just play for a bit?" I calmly said smiling. With that line I knew I had decided, at least in part, to let go. I had moved beyond the place where I was in control. The easy place to say no. It was now open to each of us to make decisions from now on and I was, along with the other two, only along for the ride. I liked the feeling. It was the feeling of surrender.

"Alright," Jodie said swinging forward on her hands with her legs crossed underneath her on the floor. She said this while looking down letting her black hair hang forward. "But I'm only going as far as I want. This isn't going to be a peep show."

Gary couldn't get the cards on the table quick enough. His hands flicked about the table with the cool assurance of a casino dealer. We decided to play with open hands. Our conditions were simply that the weakest poker hand of the three had to forgo a piece of clothing. Jewellery, watches and shoes would not count. We all removed our shoes and socks in formal preparation like swimmers loosening up before a race. The night had really began and you could feel the excitement.

We drank and played for a while. The early tension about actually taking our clothes off fell from the air and we played much like we had played cards earlier that night. Gary lost the first hand removing his shirt but leaving his singlet. His whole body strained at the white cotton material like a cartoon depiction of a straining dam about to burst. The first thing that struck me as I sat and looked at him was his huge arms. The singlet straps just managed to stretch around the top of his tattooed arms. This wasn't 'fat'. You could see his body had performed years of labour and he was firm. His singlet was rather threadbare and seemed particularly thin as it just stretch over his generous belly.

The next hand I lost. I removed my jeans. My shirt hung over my underwear and Gary didn't care anyway and Jodie was familiar with my body and so I felt no self -conscience at all. We drank steadily, quicker than before and our card hands went slower. We were having the kind of relaxed fun that good friends, and only good friends, can share. The next hand Gary lost. He stood up grandly and removed his jeans rather cumbersomely and then finishing with a bow. He was wearing briefs and I looked across at Jodie who was, a little to my surprise, looking at the bulge in Gary's underwear which, I must admit, was huge.

Jodie was fairly sexually inexperienced. She'd had a few lovers but I was her first 'serious relationship'. She had only had a few young boys before me that were, at least she told me, fumbling teenage stuff that involved desperate searches for strained penises and failed attempts to locate her clitoris. We used to share sex stories and fantasies together to fuel our own love life. Jodie told me many times that she had never had sex with a guy with a big dick and that she was curious. Jodie always assured me that this was not a serious issue but I always guessed, as she spoke about it, that it was at least some kind of an 'issue'. My penis wasn't small, like many men I liked to think it is a little bigger than average, but I knew it certainly couldn't be called 'big'. Perhaps Jodie had agreed to the card game to see what Gary was 'packing'. He was, after all, a big guy. Perhaps she had thought he would have a big cock and she wanted to see it. What ever was going on to motivate people that night I didn't know it all and I still don't.

The next hand went round and this time Jodie lost. We joked that it was about time as she had, at that stage, not removed any clothing. You could tell Jodie was awkward. She laughed but she was not confident. Surprisingly Jodie had never been confident about her body. I say surprisingly because she had what anyone would call a truly fantastic figure. She was thin but shapely. A thin toned waist topped with generous breasts and founded upon nicely curved hips. The problem was that she would never accept that she was gorgeous.

As it was a warm night and all she had on was her singlet top and shorts. Whichever way she went she would have to reveal something. Jodie sat for only a moment but that moment seemed to drag on. I was wondering if she would go ahead with it or if now was the time that she would back out. I personally was undecided if I wanted to go on with this game or stop. What I did know, though, was that it was no longer my decision to make.

Gary was desperate for some flesh. He sat back pressed deeply into his chair with a drink hung loosely between his fingers. He sat silently letting his drink swing, forgotten in one hand, and a silly grin printed across his face.

Jodie appeared to take a deep breath and, with a barely noticeable shrug, she reached down and began to remove her top. She lifted it up over her head holding the bottom of the flimsy garment. When her arms were at full length over her head and her top was covering her face her body looked truly breathtaking. Her back arched and her generous breasts were pushed forward revealing her nicely shaped nipples. Her purple lacy bra was stretched and contrasted sharply with her fair unblemished skin. Jodie's waist was stretched tight as she removed her top displaying her nicely toned torso muscles that only the young can have. In the end, perhaps resigned to her fate, she flicked her top of and quickly, without any pretence, swept a hand through her long black hair sweeping it back away from her shoulders gathering into a bundle and then letting it fall. At first she sat quite slouched and looking quite insecure.

I looked across at Gary. It had probably been quite some years since Gary had been in a room with a gorgeous young woman without a top on. He simply stared dumbly at her body. The grin had been replaced with what I can only describe as open mouthed reverence. Gary was taking in her body hungrily like he wanted to remember her like this forever. You could feel his desire, his thoughts were clear for everyone, including Jodie, to see.

"Nice tits," Gary said in a quite intense whisper breaking the awkward silence.

I burst out laughing. This is exactly what Gary would say. He could have just politely pretended that he had seen it all before or looked away as though he didn't care but Gary looked. He looked and he said 'nice tits'.