Memoirs of a Menage

Author's Note: I haven't written a story in a long time but I felt inspired by Halloween this year. I hope you like it. I would love to hear feedback. Happy Halloween!! - K

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mé•nage or menage me•nage′ (mā näz̸h′, mə-)

noun

1. a household; domestic establishment

2. the management of a household; housekeeping

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It all started off with a desire to help or maybe rescue. There's a defining line between them somewhere but I've never been all that great at sorting them out. One's healthy and the sign of a good friend, the other a little over-invested. I'm guessing my actions last night probably fell into the second category, but I'll let you be the judge.

My roommate was in serious need of assistance - she hadn't gotten laid in over a year and she'd become addicted to that god-awful hospital drama where all of the staff members hook up in closets and stuff. Oh wait, my bad, that could be a handful of them, couldn't it? I'm talking about the one that coined the euphemism "vajayjay" and has characters walking around saying "Seriously?!" to each other all the time. The narrating main character, in particular, with her tequila fueled irresponsibility and annoying voice, really got on my nerves... as in "Yes, Seriously, you are overrated!"

At any rate, poor television choices aside, Rachelle's behavior was really beginning to concern me. Almost every weekend, she'd been on our couch, wearing pink pajamas that featured little crown wearing frogs and the phrase "Someday my prince will come". It was really quite nauseating and I felt absolutely certain that even if said prince were to come along, he would take one look at those pants (and the chocolate ice cream stain on the tank top) and run for the hills.

Rachelle's an attractive girl, but the only way she could pump more implausibly romantic expectations into her head would be if she could figure out a way to liquefy her dvd collection and receive it intravenously. I tried, a thousand times, to explain that men are rarely more concerned with planning the perfect declaration of their love than fucking, but she still maintains that her soul mate (her word not mine!) is out there and she just needs to be patient.

I suppose this wouldn't have disturbed me quite so much if she hadn't revealed an astonishing fact early on in our roommate relationship. She doesn't masturbate... I didn't even know there were women like her still out there, but she remained convinced that orgasm was a purely couples' only activity, no matter how much time had passed since a breakup.

"So wait, you never even touch yourself?" I asked, unconvinced. I'd mastered the art of achieving an orgasm in two minutes or less at a pretty young age, long before I introduced battery operated buddies into my masturbatory routine.

"No. I just really don't want to. Don't get me wrong, I get plenty into sex when I'm with someone, but alone, it just seems like I'm cheating my real sex life. I can wait until I have someone special in my life again."

No amount of discussion was able to convince her to change her mind about this, so I made it my personal mission to find the girl a boyfriend, ASAP.

Rachelle and I met through a mutual friend a little over a year ago when I desperately needed someone to help make my mortgage payment and she found her lawyer boyfriend fucking his secretary... who was 52. Despite his professions that there was nothing wrong with Rachelle, that he just happened to be really attracted to experienced older women, she took the whole event as a huge blow to her self-esteem. I'm not sure if she owned cute clothes and makeup before the breakup, but I haven't seen any evidence of them since.

"Chelle, I think it's time you allowed me to help you out a bit. Your soul mate, and you know how much I hate that term - but I'm attempting to speak your language here - might very well be out there, but you're not going to meet him lounging around here in those pjs. This is your intervention, my friend. I'm sorry there aren't more people here, but given how private you are about your sex life, I figured it was best addressed alone."

I expected arguments, declarations of independence, maybe even being told to go fuck myself. What I got instead were tears.

"I, I, I," she stuttered in between shattered breaths, "I think you might be right. It's just, well, men don't even notice me, Ava. The other day, a hot guy came in to the bank to ask about a loan and he was checking out Doris. You know, the white trash girl with the split ends... she's not even pretty, but she has huge breasts and wears short skirts. He didn't even look at me!"

"Well, sweetie, I think that's because you've been doing your best disappearing act since the breakup. You don't dress up, you don't do your hair or wear makeup and you have a long-standing crush on someone called Dr. McDreamy, for fuck's sake. It might be time to get back out there."

"Ok," she said taking a deep breath, "I guess we can go shopping, cause it's not like I'll fit into any of your clothes -"

"Why don't you come with me to Nick's Halloween party? I know you were planning to stay in, but this will be a good opportunity to really break the rut you're in. Besides, his straight friend Dane is going to be in town."

Truthfully, from what I'd heard about Dane, I wasn't sure he was really her speed, but I knew Rachelle would be encouraged by the potential of the situation. It didn't matter if she'd met someone for five minutes or known them a lifetime, you can be assured that if he was reasonably attractive or funny, she'd tried out his last name behind hers. It was as automatic for her as breathing.

Nick is my best friend, the Will to my Grace, if we didn't so desperately hate that show. I swear, I don't hate all television, just well, most anything that isn't on HBO or Showtime. I have very little patience for tv shows that just allude to sex scenes and/or can't say the word "fuck"... if you hadn't noticed, it's a bit of a favorite of mine.

One of my favorite things about Nick is that even though he is gay, he is still all man. We don't shop together; he doesn't critique my wardrobe, braid my hair or go see Broadway plays with me. He is a bit of a health nut that criticizes my absolute adoration of red meat, but other than that, he's a lot like my high school boyfriend; tall, blonde, plays every sport imaginable - except, of course, that Nick and I can actually Sleep in the same bed and we love to go places and check out men together.

"It's too bad Nick isn't straight. You two would be so perfect together," Rachelle said, a smirk crossing her face. I knew then that her pity party mode was over. We'd had this discussion before and I'd let her know, in no uncertain terms, that I was Not pining away after Nick. If nothing else, I've gotten some of the best blowjob tips from the man. If he were straight, I, and all the guys I've practiced on since, would have seriously missed out.

I picked up a throw pillow off the couch and bopped her over the head with it, happy that she was rallying rather than retreating to her room. I hadn't meant to make her cry, although if it had been me that had gone a year without sex, I would have been in a constant state of waterworks.

"Tomorrow we will go shopping for a Halloween costume. You will not argue with what I pick out, you will just wear it and say thank you, understand?"

Rachelle cringed but agreed. She knew that she needed a kick in the butt and left to her own devices would probably return with something safe and boring, like a nun's habit. I planned to find her something super sexy and get her tipsy enough to not mind. I hoped that a good costume would inspire her to get into character. If I wanted Rachelle to start flirting and making men notice her, she needed to be someone confident and strong, not a slutty version of an eighties cartoon character or stereotypical French maid.

The following day after work, she met me at the Costume Closet, a store owned by a friend of Nick's who'd I'd met a couple different times over the years. I was a little worried about finding Rachelle a great costume so last minute, since Halloween was the following night, but Nick was sure Darryl would be helpful.

As Rachelle got out of her car, I noticed that her hair was no longer the mousey shade of light brown that it had been the night before, nor was it in the standard bun she'd gotten into the habit of tossing it into.

"Well look at you," I smiled, admiring her long straight hair which was now a gorgeous shade of dark brown.

"I figured with all of the effort you're putting in, the least I could do was get my hair done on my lunch break. I wasn't sure about the color when my friend Kerry suggested it, but I think it's growing on me."

"It really makes your eyes stand out, unless you ran out and got colored contacts on lunch too. Just wait until I put makeup on you, Nick won't even recognize you!"

"Nick, schmick, I'm more interested in Dane," she giggled.

"Baby steps, Chelle, let's find a costume first."

"Ok, so we're looking for strong, independent, confident and sexy, but not in a Destiny's Child way... more like She-ra, yes?" Darryl asked after I explained the situation.

"Yes, please, dear God, more like She-ra, less like Beyonce," I laughed, "I'd hate to have to murder my roommate."

"You shut your dirty whore mouth, missy. Beyonce Knowles is Goddess on most high. If I were straight, I would lick the black off every inch of that woman's body."

"Thank God you're not straight, then. I'm sure Jay-Z would have taken issue with that," Rachelle piped in with a flirtatious smile. I was glad to see that she was practicing, at least, though if that was the best she could do, she was going to need more hours than she had before the party.

"Oh, I totally forgot. I think I have just the thing!" Darryl said waving his hands wildly and bouncing from one foot to the other in what looked like a choreographed move from a show tune medley.

He disappeared into a room behind the counter and returned with a skimpy dress with leather cords. "It's a Queen Gorgo costume -- you know, the queen from the movie 300? Oh, girls, the abs in that movie!."

A collective sigh went up as we all contemplated how we would spend an evening with Gerard Butler, or at least that's where mine and Darryl's minds went, I can't say for sure about Rachelle but the look on her face was pure lust, exactly what I'd expect from someone so celibate.

"There's no way I can wear that dress, Ava," Rachelle said, a look of sheer intimidation on her face.

"Just breathe, Prudey Princess. You have a great body, and this dress will definitely show it off. Besides, Queen Gorgo totally kicks ass. If you let yourself get into character, you'll own that party."

"Why don't you just go try it on?" Darryl suggested, pointing towards a dressing room, "I'm thinking it's going to be h-o-t Hot."

"Thanks for your help. I think you're really onto something with this costume," I said absently as I looked through a rack of other costume options.

"I'm sure people tell you all the time but you really look like- "

"Don't say it, Darryl! I don't care how grateful we are that you have an awesome costume left, I will totally hit you if you say her name. I get so sick of hearing that."

I was saved from further discussion of the topic by a call from Rachelle from in the dressing room. She turned the handle on the door and pulled it back just enough to let me in.

"I need help. I can't get everything in place right and I'm sure as heck not walking out of this room uncovered," she whispered, her hands covering her bra as the strips of material hung down from her waist.

"You do know that you won't be able to wear a bra with this dress, right?" I asked, helping her situate the skirt around her hips.

The dress had two strips of gathered cloth that covered her boobs and attached to a brown leather halter strap, with two more straps around her torso. I could see why she was having a hard time getting into it, but the open back really showed off her muscle tone and the slight flaring of her hips. She really was very sexy when she wasn't hiding in baggy t-shirts and jeans.

With everything in place, I stepped back and looked her over. The outfit was probably sexier than anything she'd ever let herself wear in the bedroom. I imagined her as a lights off, under the covers sort of girl. Nonetheless, she looked great and I knew it was up to me to talk her into seeing it as well.

"Wow, lady. Have you been spending extra time in the gym? You look amazing. For the party, I'll help you curl your hair like hers and we'll get some gold jewelry, but it's seriously your body that is making this outfit."

"But there's so much skin exposed, my whole back, my sides and once I take this bra off, the insides of my breasts. I feel like I'm hardly wearing anything at all. If my mother could see me, she'd roll over in her grave."

"If your mother could see you, she'd wish for you to be happy and feel comfortable in your own skin," I countered, not sure her mother would want such a thing, but it's what I wanted for her, "C'mon, Chelle, you look hot. You can do this! I'm going to unsnap the bra though, so we can see for sure what we're working with, ok?"

She nodded nervously and it occurred to me that in the whole year we had lived together, I'd never seen Rachelle in anything less than a full set of clothes. I walked around in a bra and panties, getting ready for various things, all the time. It never really even occurred to me to wonder if that made her uncomfortable. I happen to be quite happy with my body, but then again, I'm that girl who can eat whatever she wants and not go to the gym. I know it's a charmed existence and I plan to work it until life deals me something different.

As I'd done a thousand times with my own bras, I quickly undid the small hooks and watched as Rachelle slid the bra out from underneath the dress. She blushed as she accidentally flashed me a bit of her nipple. She had dark areolas, a sort of taupe color that went nicely with her skin tone and dark brown hair. I put my hand on her back softly to reassure her that it was no big deal but felt goose bumps form beneath my palm and watched as she trembled slightly. Either the girl had a bit of a crush on me or it really had been too long since anyone had touched her.

Watching the flush in her cheeks, I guessed that it was probably a bit of both. I was a little flattered that such a straight girl was having a bi-curious moment over me. I'm cute, but I've never given a whole lot of thought to how I might appeal to women, let alone super straight ones. My experience with women is limited to a couple of threesomes where I joined my friend Kelly and her boyfriend at their request. I was intrigued by the idea of it all, and I'm generally up for trying anything once. Unfortunately, my spontaneity and willingness worked a little too well for Chris. He ended up falling for me and breaking up with Kelly. I haven't ventured into anyone else's bedroom since then, even though the sex itself was awesome.

Before I even realized I was doing it, I envisioned myself pushing Rachelle up against the wall of the dressing room, leaning up and softly kissing her lips, my hands slipping underneath the fabric of her dress, rubbing across her pretty nipples. I could almost feel her warm breath, exhaled in a deep moan, blowing into my hair.

Quickly I stepped back, "Wow, you look great. I'm going to go look for some sandals and accessories while you change back into normal clothes. How awesome is it that we found your costume on the first try? I know how much you hate shopping." I was rambling, so I just turned and left the room quickly.

Once I was out of earshot, back in the main store, I took a deep breath. I was actually pretty surprised. I'd never once thought about Rachelle that way and yet my pulse was racing. I supposed that I'd spent just a little too much time contemplating Rachelle's lack of a sex life. With all of that energy focused on the need to get her laid, apparently I'd become just a tad obsessed and heck, that had probably even caused her slight crush on me, for that matter.

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I went off to find Darryl.

"It's a good thing she has long brown hair, she won't even need a wig or extensions or anything," he chatted excitedly as we picked out a few random pieces.

I put the entire costume on my credit card. Maybe I felt just the tiniest bit guilty, but I rationalized the purchase as my investment in Rachelle's future happiness.

When we got home, we watched the movie for inspiration.

"Holy crap, she has the biggest nipples I've ever seen!" Rachelle exclaimed as she watched Lena Headey's character fuck Gerard Butler's in a scene that had to be making a girl, who never watched porn or masturbated, at least a little wet.

"I know. If Gerard weren't so hot, they'd totally steal the scene. And that's such a great line... your lips can finish what your fingers have started. I'm going to have to remember that one."

"I think my breasts are a little bigger than hers though. Thank goodness those leather straps wrap pretty tightly around that material," she thought aloud. I was pleased that she gearing herself up for the party rather than trying to convince me she couldn't pull it off but I wished she'd stop talking about her breasts. I'd been doing my best not to think about them.

A few scenes later, when the queen negotiated with the councilor, Rachelle cringed. We had watched the movie together before, since it's a favorite of mine, so she knew what was coming but she looked even more uncomfortable this time around. My guess was that in preparation for the party, she was envisioning herself in the role already.

"I don't think I could do that," she shivered as the councilor pushed the queen's body into the wall. She scowled as he uttered the lines, "This will not be over quickly. You will not enjoy this. I am not your king."

"Well, they said only the strong and the hard could call themselves Spartans. It's fitting that the queen would be one of the strongest and hardest. I told you she kicks ass. A woman like that deserves to be married to a King like Leonidas."

A few scenes later, when the queen had the opportunity to mimic the lines I said, "That right there, see her complete self-composure and confidence. That's what I want you to have tomorrow night. Well, always, really -- but we can start with the party where you'll be wearing her costume."

Rachelle smiled, inspired, if not by the sexual politics, then Gorgo's incredible self-awareness. It was clear that she admired her strength and was trying to channel it into herself, no small feat for a woman who had crumbled after being betrayed by her boyfriend. Mentally, I rallied with her. I was tired of being the only person who could see how great this woman was and was determined to set her in the path of men whom she could demand take notice.

Before we went to sleep we made plans to meet for a few drinks after work, before we got dressed for the party. I'm not a huge drinker myself, but I've done many brave things with a bit of liquid courage in me and I figured it wouldn't hurt for Rachelle to have a couple under her belt before putting the costume back on.

"Good night, my queen," I said as I made my way to my room. I honestly wasn't sure who was looking forward to the party more. I felt a bit like a mad scientist, preparing to unveil my creation to the world of men... and they were going to thank me for it.

"No, I'm sorry, Nick, I can't come over early and help you set things up. I'm helping Rachelle get all dolled up. Yes, she's coming and she's going to look so hot you just might give up boys for her," I teased him on the phone when he called the next morning.