The morning after that first night, I felt so self-conscious about everything that had happened that I hid in the kitchen. I had never before had to deal with a situation quite like this -- making toast and tea for a woman who, just hours before, had come in my mouth. I waited for the jug to boil, frowning while I turned this concept over in my mind, and then suddenly laughed out loud when I realised something -- this was exactly what Sophie, Alexis and Vivienne had done for me! Steve asked me what was so funny, and then he shared the joke with Lily, and the tension was broken for the moment. When Lily left a little while later, she did something that, to this day, makes me believe that if it hadn't happened that way, we might not be where we are now. Instead of kissing Steve goodbye first, she came over to me in the kitchen while I was stacking the dishwasher. She stood behind me and murmured, "Leisl."
I turned slowly, not really knowing what to expect from this relative stranger. She just looked me in the eyes, and hugged me. I was so surprised that I hugged her back, mostly out of politeness. She held my shoulders, kissed me softly on the lips and said, "Thank you. I hope I can see you again." I said nothing; I was speechless. It was almost as if she and I had been on a date, alone, last night, and she was thanking me for cocktails and good conversation. I was still standing there stunned while she went over and kissed Steve goodbye (no tongue, I noticed), and let herself out of the front door. I walked across the living room and sat on the couch.
Steve asked me all that day if I was okay; I hadn't said anything about how I felt. We had done threesomes before, that was nothing new, but this time was different, and we both knew it. This was the first girl we had slept with since Steve said he was looking for a girlfriend, not just a lay. We could easily have judged wrongly, brought home another girl who would leave at 3am and never call us again, but Lily had stayed over, sleeping on Steve's other side, and had woken with her arm draped over him so far that her hand was on my hip. It had felt nice. I mulled over the events of the last twelve hours and finally told Steve, "Okay. I feel good about her. Let's do it." Which sounds, in hindsight, like the moment when it all started, but in reality it was just me telling Steve I was okay with it if he asked her out again.
It was four days before we saw Lily again, when we met for drinks at The Bank Hotel on King St. I was so nervous that Steve practically had to dress me, but it went so well I could barely remember afterwards why I had been apprehensive about Lily. She was warm and generous in conversation, always asking more questions about other people, and joking and laughing easily to break the tension when there was a lull. We had such a great time, had a few cocktails, got to know each other's stories, and the question of what we were all really doing there never even came up.
When I had loosened up a bit, I giggled and told Lily how nervous I had been earlier, and she laughed and touched my arm and said it was sweet. Steve told her he'd had to pick my outfit for me because I couldn't decide what to wear, and Lily did the cutest thing. She smiled at Steve, looked over at me, then looked down and raked me with her eyes from my feet to my face. I had never been 'undressed with the eyes' before, but suddenly I knew what it felt like. When her gaze met mine, she smiled wider and said, "Good choice. Steve has excellent taste." Our eye contact turned it from a pseudo-innocent line into a full-on flirt, and I reddened, giggled and turned away. After that, Lily put her hand on the inside of my thigh under the table, out of sight of Steve, and lightly stroked the soft skin there with one finger. She never got close enough to my pussy to make me truly uncomfortable, but made it clear with the variations in pressure and speed of her stroking that she wasn't doing it absentmindedly. She never wavered from her bubbly conversation, but she and I knew something Steve didn't, and that small secret held between us for even a short time was thrilling, like finding a favourite sex toy in a drawer when you thought it had been lost forever. Intoxicating, and dizzyingly tempting.
An hour later I felt quite forlorn when Lily said she had to go -- last train home. 2 am had come far too fast. We all exchanged hugs and kisses, hers and mine with a slow, questioning look just before contact -- lips or cheek? Lips or cheek ... it landed somewhere between, in that spot at the edge of the lips that said we weren't yet sure of each other's intentions but we were sure of our own. Steve and I fucked three times that night, all the while telling each other hot stories about what we would both be doing to Lily next time she came over. We each woke up to individual text messages from the woman herself, saying how much she had enjoyed the night before and were we free on Friday? We didn't even need to ask each other, last night's shared fantasies and imagined scenarios still echoing in our nether regions.
After that first night, there was no more nervousness. There was just pleasure. I dressed for maximum sensuousness (tight black top and red handkerchief-point skirt, with knee-high boots), and so did she (tight jeans, pink chiffon singlet, and stilettos). Steve wore the tight grey shirt he knows makes his torso look long, lean and amazing. We three were under no illusions as to why we'd want to be close to home, so the Marlborough it was -- within stumbling distance. I imagined we looked an incredible trio -- one gorgeous, tallish, dark-haired man flanked by two smoothly dressed, well-endowed brunettes, both pawing his chest and giggling at an endless stream of bad taste sex jokes we were all swapping with one another.
I can't imagine what the bar staff thought of us -- every time one of us got up to fetch the next round, the other two would be inevitably kissing passionately by the time they got back to the banquette we were sharing. When Steve came back from the loo, and saw Lily and I with our faces locked together and our hands all over one another (including one of her hands inside my shirt front), he downed the remainder of his beer in one go, banged the glass down on the little table and said, "Right, girls. We're off." He turned and strode towards the door, as Lily and I exchanged slightly embarrassed grins, grabbed our bags and followed him out. As we passed the main bar area, the bartender gave us all high fives.
The three of us walked up King Street towards Broadway, sometimes giggling, sometimes silent, occasionally throwing out another terrible sex joke we'd remembered. After a little while Steve took my hand, not realising that Lily was already holding the other one. It felt very strange holding two people's hands at once -- not something that is commonly done after the age of five when your parents are swinging you between them. My handbag strap started to slip down my shoulder, and I needed to let go of someone's hand to hitch it back up. Whose? Problem solved -- Lily disengaged first in order to adjust her top. I felt driven to pull down her entire singlet right there in the street and lick her nipples; a far stranger feeling for me than any other so far. It was, for me, a night of new feelings and thoughts, but at no point do I ever remember feeling uncomfortable. That's what has always been so wonderful about the three of us. Instead of worrying if she would think I looked okay naked, as I usually did, I just wondered if she would want to go down on me. I hoped so.
Home. Key in lock. Nervous giggles. Steve: "Cup of tea, anyone?" No, thanks. Lily and I exchanged another lust-filled glance. Steve caught it and said, half-joking, "Oh, you two horny little sluts." He headed towards the kitchen, smiling, and we just went for it. Jackets and handbags clattered to the floor as Lily pushed me back against the hallway wall, her fingers threading through my hair. I took the opportunity of privacy to do what I had wanted to do all evening at the Marly -- I slipped my hand inside her bra and gently squeezed her nipple. She gasped against my mouth, and her tongue stroked mine with renewed force. I loved that I had this power over her. I moved my tongue in an approximation of the way I had, only one week before, flicked it against her wet cunt, and she didn't miss the reference. She pressed the full length of her body against mine, and pressed me bodily against the wall, harder, then gentler, in a slow-motion frottage -- what we crass Aussies call dry humping.
Her hand left my neck and found its way to my thigh, creeping her fingers against me to pull up the fabric, until she found the soft skin underneath. Up, up my thigh she went, finding the top of my hold-up stocking, pulling and pinging the elastic against my inner leg, making me gasp as she had done, and moan my enthusiasm. I pinched her nipple again, detached my lips from hers, moved my head down to find her breast. I licked the top of her gorgeous cleavage as I pulled her breast out of its satin enclosure, finding her sensitive spots by listening to when she inhaled and when she moaned. Her fingers moved up my leg and found my knickers, stroking the outside of them and making me aware of how wet I was making them. Her touch was just light enough to tease me, just hard enough to make me whimper. My teeth gently nipped her breast, and she let out a small, "Oh!" The hand of hers that was still entangled in my hair started to manipulate it, my tongue still exploring her delightful breast, her pulling my head this way and that, just by tiny increments but enough to make me feel controlled. Did I mention I love to feel controlled?
At this point I was wet enough to have warranted a change of panties. I had the feeling that wouldn't be necessary. I was only vaguely aware that Steve had entered the hallway at some point in the last few minutes, and was standing silently opposite us, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Now he came up behind Lily and began licking the back of her neck. She moaned, loudly, and moved her fingers around my panties and into my cunt. In reaction I took her nipple into my mouth and sucked it. Steve's hand kneaded the breast I wasn't suckling, his other hand rubbing against the outside of Lily's jeans. When he realised he couldn't slip his hand inside the waistband of her tight pants, he set to undoing her jeans altogether, and bent down to pull them down her legs. She helped him by stepping out of them, stilettos still on, her fingers still inside me. I took the opportunity to release her other plump breast from her silky bra, and set to sucking on her other nipple, while pinching the first one, still covered in my saliva. Lily took her fingers from my hair, and wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me towards her, pushing her fingers into me deeper, deeper. Despite the fact that Steve's hands were exploring Lily's half-naked body, cupping her ass and kissing her down her spine, I felt that all her attention was on finger-fucking me. It was a nice feeling -- the idea that nothing could distract her from making love to me for the first time.
