Car Show Slut

My head hurt. Damn, too much wine last night. Lying in bed, I opened my bleary eyes and suddenly I remembered... I was in Mr Darcy's apartment. In his bed. Oh dear.

I was alone, Mr Darcy was nowhere to be seen. But I hadn't been alone during the night. Oh my God. Mr Darcy had fucked me last night! I had had sex with an eighty year old!

I felt my heart palpitate. God, what had I done? And now I'm going to have to face him – how embarrassing! I lay there, almost forgetting about my headache, wishing somehow I could just disappear out of here. But then, trying to settle my nerves, I thought, well, I had been pretending to be asleep – I had sort of been asleep at the time, in fact. I could just pretend nothing happened, as if I had no idea that anything had happened last night, and then get the hell out of here. Yes, that's it.

I quickly dressed. I could hear Mr Darcy moving about in the living room. I would have to face him; there was no way round it. I steeled myself and opened the door.

"Ah, good morning my dear," he beamed as I made my entrance. He was dressed and fussing about in the kitchen.

"I hope you slept well. Here, I've made a jug of coffee."

I sat at the table and poured a coffee, as if on auto pilot. I glanced up at the ancient clock on the wall. It was 7.30. I was due in the office for a meeting at 9.30, so I had plenty of time. But looking at the clock gave me an idea.

"Gosh, is that the time?" I said. "I've got to go, I'm going to be late for work."

"Yes of course, my dear," he said. "But here," he continued, "I've made you a nice salad lunch to take with you. There's a lovely piece of cake for morning tea, too. I baked it only this morning."

He handed me the plastic lunch box.

"Thanks Mr Darcy," I said. "But I'd better get going."

"You have a lovely day, my dear," he said, as he leaned over to kiss me on the cheek.

With that I was off. That wasn't so bad, I thought. He wasn't making a big deal of it. He seemed to be pretending that nothing happened either – well, he could hardly do otherwise, really: then I could accuse him of rape. Raped by an 80 year old? Yeah right... Yet I almost felt guilty at having walked out so quickly, mainly because of having told a lie. It felt kind of like lying to your parents, or your grandparents, and the fact that he had made me up a lunch box only made it feel more that way. Even so, I shouldn't feel too guilty: the old guy had had his way with me without, as far as he knew, my knowing about it. Wasn't that rape? Oh, what the hell, I thought, as I remembered what had happened, how it had felt, the memory of his tender moans as he penetrated me, felt my body. I was probably the first woman he had been with in years, maybe 10 or 20 years. And it would have been many decades since he had been with a woman in her 20s. You could feel all that in his voice, his caress last night. Yes, it was palpable, God, so touching! That wondrous rapture, almost like a young man experiencing a woman for the first time. There had been nothing aggressive in it; he just took advantage of a situation as a man. Who cares? And anyway, face it: you enjoyed it. An old man – your neighbor, actually – fucked you last night and you could have stopped it but you didn't. It happened, you enjoyed, end of story. Get over it.

The 9.30 meeting had been cancelled. I didn't mind; I hate meetings, and I had quite a few other projects on my plate. I worked on through the morning, occasionally pausing to reflect on what was one of the strangest sexual experiences I had ever had. It hardly seemed real, and certainly at the time, half awake, half asleep, it actually was a bit surreal.

I took a call. It was my friend, Wendy. She was in the area and wanted to drop in and have lunch with me.

"Sounds lovely," I said. "I'll meet you downstairs in 20 minutes."

It would be good to catch up, chat. It would take my mind off the sordid Mr Darcy affair.

I met Wendy in the lobby and we headed for the office cafeteria. She ordered a glass of wine with her meal, but I had a juice. I don't like to drink on the job.

"So, how's tricks?" I asked.

"Yeah, pretty good," she said. We made some small talk for a while as we waited for our meals, but she seemed a little nervous and agitated to me.

"Wen, are you OK?"

"Yeah," she said. "Anne, can I ask you something? It's a bit personal."

"Go ahead. What is it?"

She paused for a moment.

"Have you, um..." She was looking down at her plate, not at me. "Anne, have you ever had a threesome?"

God, what a question! Now it was I that felt nervous, put on the spot. I felt my cheeks flush. Why is she asking me this? I paused for a moment before answering. What a thing to be asking me? Wendy! I wasn't going to lie, but nor did I really want to go into sordid details of my episode with Ron and Darren from Wallgrove-Fordham. God, just imagine it – 'oh yeah, Wendy, I've had a threesome, it was with two of my clients, in fact. I was at a meeting with them and somehow I ended up sucking their cocks and fucking them in their boardroom'. No, I didn't want to talk about that at all, didn't even want to think about it. But I wasn't going to lie to her.

"Yes, I have."

"Was it with a couple?"

"No, two men."

I studied her reaction. There was something wrong. Normally, with the Wendy I knew, she'd be whooping and hollering if told news like that, having a great old time. Instead she sat there, almost impassive.

"So, what was it like?"

"Oh Wendy, why are you asking me these things? I feel a bit uncomfortable talking about this."

"Sorry, I'm just curious. I'd just like to know, what it's like."

"Well, if you must know, I would have preferred it hadn't happened, but I don't really want to go into the whys and wherefores. If you're asking me, was it good, yes, it was good; at the time, strange, weird, but yes, very good. In hindsight, though, I wished it hadn't happened, not with those two men."

"So, do you think you'd ever do it again?"

What the hell was this about? Why was she asking me all this? Wendy is a fairly forthright person, so I was used to being grilled by her over my private life, but this seemed to have come right out nowhere.

"I suppose I would never say never. Just not with those two again."

"Hmm," she said. She paused again, pushing the food around her plate with the fork. Then she looked up at me, an uncertain look in her eye.

"Anne," she said, before pausing. "Anne, I want us to have a threesome. You, me, and Rog."

What? What did she just say? Wendy wanting to have a threesome? With me? Was I dreaming – she was the last person on earth I would expect to do something like that; so protective of her man, so suspicious of him. She's the classic jealous type; I'd always thought that, and you could clearly see it in the dynamic of her relationship with Roger. And a threesome with me, her friend? I felt like I was about to fall of my chair.

"Wendy, I can't believe - you can't be serious."

"Yes, I am serious."

"I... I don't know what to say. But I don't think it would be a good idea. Wendy, we're close friends, we can't..."

"Hey, hon', please, don't be freaked out. But will you have a think about it?"

"OK."

Now an uncomfortable silence descended over the conversation. Damn, why did she have to come out with something like that? I didn't want things to be uncomfortable between us, but I certainly wasn't enjoying a relaxing lunch with my friend now.

"Anne," she said, looking me straight in the eye, "I know about that night we went the movies, how you did a little show for Roger in the back seat of the car."

Oh God. He must have told her! I felt so ashamed of what I had done back then – it was virtually cheating on her!

"Oh Wendy, I'm so, so sorry about that night! You can't believe how awful I felt about it! I knew it was wrong, but I was drunk; I just don't know what came over me. But you have to understand that nothing – NOTHING – happened between Roger and I, and I never would have done anything! It was just a stupid, childish thing. Oh God, I'm so sorry!"

And I was. I truly was. I had tears in my eyes; if only I could roll back time and undo my stupid mistakes!

"Hey, it's OK," she said softly, reassuringly, reaching across to hold my hand. "Shhh, it's OK hon'. But you know, you don't realize it, but I almost should be thanking you. I have to tell you that Roger and I have been having some dramas; our relationship just kind of wasn't connecting properly. Something wasn't right between us. I was worried about it, especially so close to our wedding. So I arranged for some counseling for us. Out of that, we both realized we had been withholding secrets from one another – nothing bad, but we just weren't communicating fully. We both decided that we should come clean with each other, share our secrets, our deepest desires, so we could become closer as a couple. That's how I found out about that night. I also learned that Roger felt constrained by my possessiveness, that to him it seemed that I was always on the lookout for him being unfaithful, when in fact he never wanted anyone other than me. But my jealousy was weighing him down. I never knew that.

"So we decided: we can't keep secrets from one another. We sat down and told each other everything. He told me about that night in the car, how he felt under pressure, often under suspicion. And I told him my fears about losing him, and also some of deeper fantasies.

"It's really strange. I know I can be possessive and domineering, but one of my fantasies, my deepest darkest fantasies, is to see Rog with another woman. I don't know how to explain or analyze it, because I can get really jealous, and in my fantasy I am VERY jealous. The idea of watching him with another woman, you know, it's kind of horrifying and a total turn on at the same time!

"But since we really opened up to one another, and were able to talk about these things, everything seems to have changed. We love each other so much more, and our sex life has gone to a whole new level – it's just amazing! And I know, now that I know that he only wants me, I feel secure, free, and suddenly these fantasies aren't so dark and distant, they feel like real possibilities. I feel my soul has been kind of liberated, if that makes sense."

"I'm finding this all a bit hard to understand," I said to her. And that was an understatement! "Wendy, a threesome, with me, was it your idea or his?"

"Mine. It came to me at the beach the other day. When you and I we were rubbing the sunscreen on him, I thought about it, and I thought it would be really beautiful to share something like that with someone I cared about. So, what do you think?"

"Wendy, this is all still sinking in for me. I can hardly believe what you've just told me. I can't, I need time to think. But really, have you really thought this through? What if we did it, and you find you can't handle it? I just don't want to risk our friendship over something like this. It's not worth it."

"I have thought about it. I have thought about it a lot. I thought about it, and I didn't want to just do it with anyone. It's not about, like, ticking a box and saying, 'I've done that'. I want it to happen, and I want it to be special. I want it to be with someone who is already close to me, and close to Roger. I don't think it would ruin our friendship; I think it would only make us closer, I'm sure of it.

"Anne, you know that day at the beach, and you were rubbing the oil into my back."

"Yes."

"I was wondering at the time, and I have been wondering since, were you enjoying it? Doing that? I mean, were you really enjoying it?"

"Er, what do you mean, Wen?" I said. But I was pretty sure I did know what she meant.

"You know, did you... did you find me attractive, sexually attractive."

Yes, that was what she meant. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to say to her. Well, with how she'd just bared her soul to me, I could hardly turn around and clam up. She was looking at me so intently, waiting for the answer. She looked so earnest! It was so touching.

"Yes, I do find you sexually attractive," I said. It felt like taking a leap into the unknown, telling her that. But it felt, good, like I was getting something off my chest. "But Wen, it's not like that. You're my friend, and I love you as my friend."

"But if I wasn't your friend, just someone, and I was bisexual, would you have wanted to touch me? You know, really touch me?"

God, she doesn't let up, I almost laughed to myself. But it was a tender moment all the same; she had shared some real secrets with me and now I was with her. I felt very close to her at that moment. Her eyes were pleading for an answer.

"Yes, I would. You're very sexy, and had you been someone else, I'd have certainly considered it. But you're not someone else – that's the point."

She smiled. She was positively beaming.

"That's how it felt to me when you were rubbing my back," she grinned, "that it wasn't just 'friendly'. Oh Anne, that turned me on – thinking that you maybe were thinking of me like that!"

All the time she had still been touching my hand. I had almost forgotten about it, so natural it had all felt. She gave my hand a little squeeze.

"I love you Anne, I think you're a fantastic friend."

"I love you too," I said. "But Wen, I want to go away and think about all this. And I want you to think more about it too. If I was going to have a threesome again, I think in theory it could be only be with people I cared about. I'm not against it, but I don't want something like this to ruin our friendship, and it worries me that it might. Give me some time to think about it. OK?"

"OK," she said.

I looked at my watch.

"Wen, I've really got to get back to the office."

She nodded, and then she leaned across the table and kissed me. Not a sexual kiss, just the innocent kiss of two close friends. Two close friends that were maybe about to get a lot closer, I mused to myself as I got up to leave.

But no, that wasn't going to happen. It was too much of a risk. And did I really even want to do it? I didn't have a lot of friends in this town as it was, and she was my closest. I didn't want to risk wrecking that. But wasn't I doing that when I exposed myself in the car to Roger, while she was asleep? Wasn't thinking too much about the value of her friendship then, were you Anne? That was true, but even then, I felt I had somehow corrupted them; that it was my depravity that had led her to this, this proposition. But then she was saying that she and Roger had never been closer, and all this had brought them together.

The more I thought about it, the more of a mess it seemed. Did I want to have a threesome with them? No, but also yes. I did want it, because I loved them both, as friends, and I knew it could be something very special, in the way that it had not been with those two jerks at Waldorf Fordham. But what if it went badly? What if Wendy was deceiving herself about how much she wanted it, or whether or not she could handle it? But she had seemed so adamant – she seemed almost possessed by the idea!

Damn. I could think of nothing else all afternoon. I just sat there, staring at the screen, unable to concentrate. I felt all flushed, in a state of paralysis. Why did she have to come out with that?

But yes, I did want it. I wanted to do it. I was almost ashamed of myself for thinking of my friends like that. I thought of Wendy, lying on the beach as I massaged the oil into her body, the feel of my hands on her bare skin. Yes, she is sexy. I thought of how I had watched her go down on Roger in the car, wishing that it was my mouth wrapped around his cock, not hers. I want to fuck my closest friends. Normal people don't think like this. This is not how normal friendships are. And what would I be risking? Round and round in my head it went. Damn, Wendy, couldn't you have just kept the fantasy to yourself?

But if it was so traumatic, I thought, simply say 'no thanks'. But it somehow seemed to have gone beyond that. Was that really true? No, it was only true in that I wanted it. The torment was only in my own mind: I wanted it, but I was scared of the consequences. But she had made a decision, that was hers to make: she wanted to do it. Wendy is her own person.

God, Anne, this is pathetic!

I reached across to the keyboard. I selected new message and typed Wendy's work email. Subject: um, lunch meeting. I hit the tab key and the cursor made its way to the blank message box. But what was I going to write, say to her? I hadn't even made a conscious decision. Hitting the keyboards was as much just something to do with my hands in this state of agitation.

The blank message filled the screen. I began to type.

'Hi Wen, just thinking about our discussion over lunch.'

I paused, then took a deep breath as my fingers returned to the keyboard.

'I've been thinking about your proposition. I'd like to do it. Let's do it.'

I sat there studying what I had just typed. Three innocent looking sentences; innocent in isolation – we could have been talking about hooking up to see a movie. But we weren't talking about anything so mundane as that. My finger rested on the mouse. One click, and it would be done, decided. A minute or two passed. I looked at the message one more time.

'Click'.

And I watched the message window disappear. It was done. I felt somehow relieved, as if a weight had been lifted.

A minute or so later I received a reply. It was Wendy. I eager clicked 'new message'.

'Great! Fantastic – how about tonight?'

So soon! Having just agonized over it for what seemed like hours, it hadn't occurred to me that it would actually be tonight! Well, tonight, the next night, next week: what did it matter. Tonight. I sent my reply.

Almost immediately came Wendy's response.

'Brilliant! So looking forward to it hun. How about 7.30 at our place?'

I almost laughed. In a way it really did feel like we were organizing a night at the movies or something; something we might have done one hundred times before. Only this time we were arranging a time that suited us both, so that we would be able to get naked with one another and explore each other's bodies. And her husband's. God, was this really happening?

'Yes', I typed. 'Tonight'.