I'd been dating Emmy for about two months, when she suggested a double date with Mel and Andrew. I think Mel and Emmy had known each other since university, and they were now flatmates, whereas Andrew and I are old friends.
Because of that, I didn't think much of it, and readily agreed.
So it was that we found ourselves going back to the girls' flat, late one Friday night. We settled into chairs in the lounge, and Mel dug about in a drawer for a pack of cards, while Emmy organized some drinks, which turned out to be a couple of bottles of wine.
"Emmy, I can't find the cards: did you have them last?" Mel called to the kitchen.
"Yeah—aren't they in the top left drawer?" came back the answer.
"Uh...ah, yes, got them!" Mel announced, closing the drawer and clearing the coffee table between the seats. As Emmy brought the glasses and bottles back, Mel started to deal. I'm hopeless at cards, except for Blackjack. Fortunately, no-one else seemed to mind what we played, so I had my way for a while.
Of course, when eventually I wound up with a large stack of matchsticks, Emmy decided I'd won for long enough.
"Time for change: we can't have you win all night. Andy, choose something else, then Mel can decide next time."
"He'll sulk if he loses at cards for the rest of the night," warned Andrew, a wingman on whom I can always rely.
"I won't: besides, it'll take you all night to win these sticks back," I taunted, "even if you do pick something atrocious."
"Doesn't have to be cards," pointed out Mel. Nonetheless, Andrew chose some awful poker variant (they all blend into one for me). Inevitably, I had to have the rules explained ("Again," pointed out Andrew), and struggled inwardly to remember which combinations of cards actually meant anything.
My pile of matchsticks was got woefully low, as they moved to rest in front of my friends—mostly, in fact, in front of Mel, who has an immaculate poker face. Keeping pace with my cache's reduction was the level of wine left in the second bottle, which I thought correlated with Emmy's giggling at my losses.
In the end, it came down to a heavily wagered hand between Andrew and Mel; I'd long since dropped out, when Mel forced a big raise. Emmy didn't like the look of it, but Andrew called her. Called her wrongly, though, and lost all his reserves.
"Pah," he begrudged, pushing the stack over to Mel, who smiled angelically back at him. "I'll get another bottle?"
"Please," replied Emmy, "You know where they are."
Andrew wandered off to the kitchen, while I got up to stretch my legs.
"That makes it my turn to choose, doesn't it?" remarked Mel.
"Yup," grinned Emmy, "What'll it be?"
Mel went decisively to the drawers from earlier, and pulled out a folded sheet. I eyed it suspiciously.
"You really think we've drunk enough for that? We're not in university any more," I pointed out.
Emmy, however, had come across to sit on my lap, and grinned at me, "Go on, it'll be fun."
My reply was interrupted by her mouth coming down on mine, green eyes laughing at me.
"Twister? You're kidding, Mel...Chris, what brought that on?" asked Andrew, coming back with the promised bottle.
I detached my girlfriend, slightly reluctantly; she didn't go anywhere, though, and just started kissing my neck.
"She did, honest, officer," I joked, "And I fear Mel might be for real."
"Oh, definitely," she said, "though you might want another drink."
And with that, she surprised me; shocked me, almost. She came up to Andrew, stood on tip toes to reach, and planted a passionate kiss on him. He's tall: taller than me, and I'm 6', and bigger to boot. I smiled the first time I saw Mel and him together, because she's tiny: about 5'2", and really slightly built, and the contrast is so striking.
That's not what surprised me, though.
As she kissed him, her hands reached down to the hem of her dress, and she pulled it up, over her head, breaking off the kiss only briefly before reaching for his face again. Then her hands moved one of his to her backside, while the other went to the back of her neck.
Mel, standing there in her bra and panties: that's what surprised me. It must have been obvious, too, to Emmy, still buried in my neck, as she giggled gently.
"Well, it's impolite to leave you alone like that, Mel," she chided, and started unbuttoning her blouse.
Frankly, I didn't know where to look, given the options. The rapidly disrobing girl on my lap, smiling widely at me, probably had the bulk of my attention, but I spared the odd glance for Mel. Still kissing Andrew deeply, her hands were working hard at untucking and undoing his shirt, while his hands roved greedily. Like I said, she's a slight girl, though of course I'd never seen her quite like this. Small breasts, a slender waist, a pert bottom: her lacy red underwear was a bright contrast to her skin.
