Mix and Match

Oh boy. Here we go again. Well, all I can say is, you know the drill. Married people doing things to other married people they're not married to. If that's not your thing, then this is very much not going to be your thing. For everyone else, well, I hope you enjoy the ride.

I always had a thing for my wife's best friend, Allison.

You might not get it, if you saw her. It's not like Allison is some strikingly beautiful supermodel. If anything, it's my own wife, Melissa, who tends to turn heads. But there was something singular about Allison that seized me.

She was petite and willowy, with straight, golden blonde hair that hung past her shoulders. Allison's face was elfin, with a short, sharp chin and thin lips. But her nose, ears, and bright green eyes were large, like they were made for a far fuller face.

Nothing about Allison's body was particularly striking, either. She was athletic, though nothing stood out in any particular way. In other words, Allison wascertainly attractive, but nothing that would make her stand out from the hundreds of other women you might run into.

I think it was her smile that did it. Allison had this bright, peculiar grin that spoke of both salt and sweetness. Warm and welcoming, yet challenging and sharp. The first time I saw it -- mouth half quirked, eyes alight -- it knocked me back a bit.

After that, I guess I was in for it.

It wasn't just her expression, but what it said about the woman herself. Allison was an absolute sweetheart who legitimately cared about people. But she also had no problem beating me to a pulp in Smash Bros and cackling the whole time. She was equally comfortable at the opera or a hockey game. Fun to be with at fine dining or a burger shack on the side of the road.

My fascination never led to anything inappropriate. We flirted in the way that men and women do, but nothing more. Maybe I'm naive, but I don't think my wife was even aware of my little crush on her longtime friend. And, certainly, Allison had no idea.

But through the years of me and Melissa dating, getting married, and settling down in the suburbs, Allison's grasp on me never really let go. I wouldn't say I held a torch for her, more like a zippo. But still.

Even a little flame can start a conflagration.

*

It started out as an innocent suggestion.

My wife's family owned a cabin on a lake in Vermont. Every August, for about a week, we'd all troop up there and do New England summer stuff. There was no TV or Internet in the house, and the lake was fricking freezing, but Melissa's family was nice enough and her grandfather cooked like a champ, so it ended up being a fun time.

That spring, however, Melissa's grandma took a nasty fall and broke her hip. She was going to be fine, but she needed a lot of help to get around and the healing process was slow. With the grandparents out, and Melissa's parents indisposed helping care for them, that meant that it would be just the two of us going up to the cabin.

And I was really, truly, OK with that.

See, Melissa and I had been talking about having kids for a while. Finally, that spring (around the same time as the hip incident), we'd agreed we were ready. Melissa had stopped taking the pill and while we hadn't started trying yet, we were right on the precipice of making things happen.

A week on the lake in Vermont seemed like the perfect time to leave the condoms behind and get down to business. It would be idyllic on the lake, symbolic in the family home, romantic by ourselves -- perfect.

But I hadn't suggested it to Melissa yet. And before I could bring it up, she proposed something a little different than what I had in mind.

"I'm thinking about inviting Allison up to the cabin," Melissa said, "Kind of a couples' thing, you know?"

"Really?" I asked, trying to hide my disappointment.

"I thought it'd be fun," Melissa said, "Spend time up there the four of us. Grill some meats. Go for a hike. Maybe take the Sunfish out. Besides, you always enjoy seeing Allie." OK so maybe my wife was a bit more aware of my crush than I'd given her credit for.

"No, I do," I said, stumbling for words. "It's just, well, a week alone. In a cabin on the lake. I thought maybe we might, you know, start things."

"Oh," Melissa said, "Oh! I'm sorry Matt, it didn't even occur to me."

"Yeah," I said, "Anyway. It was just an idea."

"No, I get it," Melissa said, "I wish you'd said something sooner."

"I mean, I guess we still could," I said.

"With our friends there?" Melissa asked, scandalized.

"We'll put them in a bedroom on the far side of the house," I said.

"I wouldn't feel right," Melissa said, "Doing that. It'd be so mortifying if they knew what we were up to."

Would it? We were a married couple. Was it so shocking that we had sex? And baby-making sex at that? Wasn't that what people were supposed to be doing?

But I didn't argue it with my wife. Melissa was very proper. Appearances mattered to her. She worked hard to maintain a certain perception. And even though Allison was probably one of the only people to pierce Melissa's carefully constructed shield (besides myself, of course), my wife clearly still had some boundaries.

"Seriously Matt, we've been working so hard lately," Melissa said, "I feel like I don't ever see my best friend anymore. One more week of waiting won't be so bad."

Despite the light, playful nature of Melissa's tone, I could hear the wistfulness of her words. We were both successful in our careers. But the amount of work it all took was taking a lot out of us.

In truth, that was the other aspect of our pact to procreate. We'd both been feeling a bit distant lately. Nothing too bad. But we'd both admitted to each other that things didn't feel as

sparky

as they had even a few years earlier.

Our new reality had impacted more than just our own relationship, however. There was a time when Melissa and Allison saw each other almost every day, even after they'd stopped being roommates.

But every day had drifted to every few. And then from once a week to maybe once a month. It was the natural progression of friendships, sure. But Melissa was clearly feeling lonely. She wouldn't admit to it, she wasn't the type to want to come off as weak or needy. But that didn't mean she couldn't feel vulnerable. And it didn't stop her from needing things.

Fortunately, all other issues aside, our marriage was well-written enough for me to read between the lines. And so, I nodded my acceptance. It wasn't such a concession.

After all, maybe I'd get to see Allison in a bikini.

*

Melissa and I needed to prep the cabin first, so we drove up a day early, following the twisty, sun-dappled roads as they wandered their way to the lake. Finally, we turned onto the gravel driveway and edged up to the house. It was large, dark grey, with a wraparound porch and a stone chimney. Set against a thick copse of trees, the lake looming on the other side, it was truly bucolic.

Once we got inside, the old familiar smells of forest and lake, woodsmoke and family, filled our noses. Melissa found herself feeling melancholy almost immediately. I think the reality of what had happened to her grandma was finally sinking in. Sure, she was going to heal, but it was a marker that things would change -- were already changing.

It meant that my wife had a hard time focusing on what we needed to do. So, I took on the load of things, letting her sift through memories. It didn't take that long to get things set up. The house was regularly maintained. I just had to make the beds, supply the kitchen, sweep floors. Stuff like that. And Melissa did help, but in a way that was more distracted than dedicated. I didn't begrudge her that.

"I'm sorry about today," Melissa said over dinner. We'd cracked open a bottle of wine and she was already a glass in. "Seeing the house like this, without everyone else here, it's just reminding me of how things used to be."

"You have nothing to apologize for," I said, "I get it. This is hard. I'm just happy that I can be here for you."

"Still," Melissa said, her smile sliding to the lascivious, "I'd like to make it up to you."

We tumbled up to the bedroom together, the dirty dishes forgotten on the table. It seemed like my wife was pretty into things, and I decided to make a play. After all, what better way to fill the house again than by adding to the family? However, to my disappointment, Melissa made me grab a condom before the big event.

"Not yet. Not yet," Melissa murmured, when I tried to bury my bare penis inside her.

"You sure?" I asked teasing my dick at her entrance. Feeling the heat of her wash over me. "There's nothing saying we can't start now."

"I know," Melissa said, "But not here. Please. Let's wait a little longer. We have the whole summer to make that memory."

So, I reached into my suitcase and brought out a rubber. It was more than having to use protection, I was used to that. It was more the reinforcement of Melissa's feelings about what she would and wouldn't do. So much for a week of wild sex. Not that it had been all that likely anyway, all things considered.

After we finished, while Melissa slumbered, I got up and cleaned the kitchen. Everything I did felt far too loud. I was used to the sound of echoing footsteps from the rest of my wife's family. Voices hushing down the halls. Empty, the house was oddly eerie.

As much as I might be regretting our decision to invite another couple to join us, I could see why it might be a good idea. This was a place that was meant to be filled with family. Without it, just us, it felt thin and hollow.

*

Any doubts I had about Melissa's decision slipped out the back of my brain when Allison's blue SUV crunched onto the gravel driveway the next morning. As soon as the lithe blonde woman stepped out of the driver's seat, green eyes alight, the whole day seemed to grow more vibrant. Like God amping up the color radiance on the HDTV of our existence.

Melissa did the whole girl-shriek thing, sprinting off the wraparound porch to embrace her best friend. The two of them spun around like reunited lovers in a teen romcom. After Allison finally extricated herself, she sidled over to greet me.

The cute blonde was wearing tan short-shorts that barely covered her backside and an emerald polo shirt that brought her eyes out even brighter. She gave me a tight squeeze, and I felt her little breasts press insistently into my chest. Like she had two tennis balls stuffed under there. I kept my lower half out of contact, to be safe.

Allison's hair smelled of peaches. Her grasp was both strong and warm. She giggled as she grabbed me and, I have to be honest, my heart leapt a little. OK, maybe not

leapt

. That would be silly. Hopped? Yeah, I guess you could say it gave a tiny hop. My dick on the other hand, did something far more dramatic.

Thus, the whole groin-safe-hugging thing.

I heard the slam of a car door and looked up. Like I said, I had a thing for Allison. Had for a long time. Allison's husband on the other hand...

Kent was tall, a good six-foot-two, with a shock of brown curly hair and an 'aw-shucks' grin. He worked in advertising, and he had that patented brand of slick confidence that usually only showed up in TV shows. He was the kind of guy who I'd have hated in high school and resented in college. Now, in my thirties, I could confidently state that I straight up didn't like the dude.

To be fair, a big part of it was that he'd landed Allison. He was a work acquaintance -- the story goes that they kept accidentally hooking up at parties. Eventually, they figured they should try dating, since their inebriated brains kept telling them something was up.

When Allison first introduced Kent to Melissa and me, I'd despised him on sight. But over time, I'd come to tolerate Kent as part of our group. Or at least overlook his presence.

But there was one thing that never stopped irking me about the guy: how he acted around Melissa. Remember all the things I said that Allison wasn't? That striking, sexy, turn-your-head woman? She's actually my wife.

Melissa was tall, almost as tall as me at 5'8". She had long, black hair that hung past her shoulders, dark eyes, high cheekbones and voluptuous lips. C-cup tits and an A+ ass. She kept in shape, but didn't go overboard, leaving her with a body that went from 0-to-60 in less than a second and stopped on a goddamn dime.

So, I can't exactly blame Kent for being drawn to her. I just wished he would remember he was talking to my wife and not some trophy he could hang on his wall.

Kent got out of the car and strutted straight to Melissa, giving her a tight hug. No careful removal of his crotch in that embrace, no sir. He whispered something in her ear and my wife giggled.

Once they finally broke, Kent seemed to notice me for the first time. He gave me a look (the same one he always saved for me), clearly wondering how I, of all people, had managed to score a woman like Melissa.

Not that I was repulsive or anything. But I was shorter than Kent and not nearly in the same condition -- a bit too full in the belly and a little too slight in the arms. My light brown hair was starting to thin at the top. My eyes were a dull brown. It's a bit like the old saying in poker: if you look around the table and you can't spot the 'average' guy, you're him.

Kent walked over and shook my hand. He made sure I felt the strength of his grip before letting me go.

"Good to see you," I lied.

"Same, man," he fibbed right back. "I can't tell you how happy I am you invited us."

I could tell that at least that part was true.

*

After lunch, we got into swimsuits and went out on the dock down by the lake. Allison didn't wear a bikini, sadly. But her navy-blue one-piece was more than enough to make me goggle. There was something about her body that went beyond biological, to an almost mathematical ideal. The kind of lines and angles that would give Pythagoras a hard-on.

Melissa, however, with her collection of fantastic curves, would have been more Archimedes' type. And, even better, she did go for the two-piece -- a little purple number I'd seen a few times that hugged her wide hips and squeezed out her ample cleavage.

Kent noticed, of course. Again, I couldn't blame the guy. The fact that I was having my head turned by his wife at the same time invoked a different Classical Greek concept: hypocrisy.

But that didn't stop my disdain all the same.

At some point, with all of us lazing by the water, Melissa mentioned that she wanted to go out on the Sunfish. I wasn't feeling it, and neither was Allison, but Kent agreed. So, the two of them got out the little boat, raised the sail, and sped off.

I should have been a bit more wary, perhaps. But it also meant I had Allison to myself, so I didn't truly worry about it. I sat down on the edge of the dock and dipped my toes into the ice water. The cute blonde sat down next to me.

"How've you been?" I asked her. Her sunglasses glinted in the sun as she turned my way.

"Busy," she said, "Work's a bear."

"I hear you," I said, "That's a big reason why we wanted you here. Feels like forever since we got together."

"I'm glad you invited us," Allison said, genuinely. "You guys are doing OK?"

"Yeah, we're alright," I said.

The blonde woman lowered her glasses slightly to give me an interrogating look.

"Like you said, busy," I said.

Allison nodded. "I hear that," she said, "Kent and I've been having the same thing. I don't know how we do it -- live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, but still make it feel like miles away."

"Melissa's been saying something similar. She calls it 'drifting.' Whatever free time we do have together, we've been trying to figure out something we can anchor to."

"Any suggestions?" Allison asked.

I stared down at my legs through the murky water. "We've been, um, trying. Well, that is, not yet. But we've agreed to try. You know?"

"You're shitting me," Allison said. I looked up and found she was shining that awesome smile my way. "Us too. Like you said, not just yet. But getting ready. If you know what I mean?"

"This is so silly, being uncomfortable," I said, "I was having this same conversation with Melissa a couple days ago. Like, it's a perfectly normal thing. Why do we have to treat it like it's weird or wrong or I don't know?"

"I know," Allison said, "It shouldn't be awkward to talk about."

"Exactly," I said, "I guess the morality gets beaten into us at an early age. But it's honestly kind of dangerous, having to hide all that stuff. Like, this is normal. Literally part of life. The fact that we can't even talk about it, I think it does a lot of harm. In the long run."

Allison grabbed my hands. She stared at me, seriously. I felt myself stiffen, like the ass that I am, and was very glad I'd put on my baggy swimsuit that afternoon.

"Matt, I've been fucking my husband," Allison said. The way she said

fucking

. My God.

"I have sex with my wife," I said, "And we're trying to reproduce."

Allison snorted and broke into a laugh. She dropped my hands. "Reproduce? Is that what you call it?"

"What am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know?" Allison said, still chortling. "Making babies? I guess it all sounds dumb when you say it out loud."

"I'm telling you, it's these limits that have been forced on us. We can't even have an adult conversation."

"We've got to stop," Allison said, "Promise me. We've been friends forever. We should be able to open up about things like this."

"To be fair, you're friends with my wife," I said, "It's a little more removed."

Allison shook her head at me. "You really think I'm only here for Melissa?"

I started to respond, but we were interrupted by Kent shouting from across the lake. I couldn't understand his words, exactly, but it was enough to pull my attention. The tiny sailboat sliced through the water, then eased towards the dock.

Kent stood at the bow, waving his arms and laughing. He was bare-chested, showing off his chiseled pecs and defined stomach. With his dark chest hair and mirror glasses, he looked like he could be solving TV mysteries in the 80s.

Meanwhile, Melissa was sitting aft. Her one hand was on the rudder. But her other arm was around her chest, and she was bent over at the waist in an odd way. She was smiling, however, and her cheeks were pink.

"We had a bit of an incident," Kent said, stepping onto the dock. He grabbed a rope from the boat and started to tie it off like a master.

Melissa stood, arm in the same spot. "I lost my top," she said, looking bashfully at anywhere but us.

"Dude, it was hilarious," Kent said, "She was like, 'watch this' and the next thing I know -- whoosh! -- out come the girls!"

"That's not what happened," Melissa said, "Not exactly." She stepped off the boat, gingerly, carefully trying to keep herself concealed. "Kent was complaining that the Sunfish is a 'kiddie boat.' And the wind was picking up. So, I decided to show him how quick we could go. Well, when the boat took off, so did my top. Guess I didn't tie it as tight as I thought."

"It was awesome," Kent said. He tried to give me a high-five for some reason. For some reason I slapped his hand.

I guess the whole thing should have bothered me more. But I could tell that Melissa was legit upset. It was her lack of reaction that made it clear. Like I said, Melissa worked very hard at keeping up a particular image of herself. Showing her boobs out on a boat didn't fit that one bit. But then, freaking out about doing it wasn't her thing either. My wife was working very hard to not look like it bothered her when it very much did. Knowing that, I think, helped soften the blow.

"I'll go get you another suit, hon," I said.