I turned the key in the door and was surprised to be greeted by voices coming from the kitchen. My husband Sam's deep voice boomed out something in his English accent, and I heard a second voice, also accented but with a softer cadence, reply. Both men laughed as I entered the room.
"Michael!" I cried, even as Sam crossed the room to give me a kiss on the cheek.
"As usual, she only has eyes for you," Sam joked. I blushed and kissed him back.
Michael was Sam's best friend from childhood. They'd done everything that wealthy boys raised in the suburbs of London did, together: they attended an elite private school, summered in France, drunk their way across Europe after graduation. Since Sam had moved stateside to be with me they hadn't seen each other as often, but they kept in touch and were still close whenever reunited. Michael was my favorite of Sam's friends, too: he was witty, attractive, charming, he held a doctorate degree and an impressive job. I often joked that I would've left Sam for Michael if it hadn't been for his height; at six foot three, Sam was taller than me by three inches, but Michael looked up to both of us. There was no jealousy, though; Michael had been the best man at our wedding and looked damn good in his suit.
Michael stood and we embraced. "What're you doing here?" I asked. "It's been too long!"
He shrugged. "It has been too long. And I've been shipped out here until Sunday to attend conferences."
"Well we're lucky to have you," I said. "We'll have to go out to celebrate!"
We took him to a little bistro in the East Village and ate family style, ordering several dishes and sharing amongst ourselves. The place was nearly empty on a Wednesday night, and we enjoyed several bottles of wine and dessert as we chatted and caught up.
"This food is marvelous," said Michael.
"That's one thing that I can confidently say we do better than you," I said. "Your country conquered half the world for spices and yet your national dish is still beans on toast."
The boys laughed. "Don't be too high and mighty, dear, unless there's a good Native American restaurant you can recommend in the city?" Michael chided.
"I don't think you have the upper hand in colonialism or flavor," Sam added. "I've eaten at your aunt's house in Kansas."
"Don't you gang up on me!" I protested, shaking my head. The boys shared a glance, and we all laughed. "Anyway," I tried to change the subject, "are you seeing anyone these days, Michael?"
He shook his head. "A perpetual bachelor, I'm afraid."
"We'll have to set you up with someone," I said, looking to Sam. "You're quite a catch, you know, any of my friends would kill to meet a guy like you."
"I'm only in the city for a few days," he said. "Hardly enough time to form a bond. And anyone Sam could introduce me to, I probably already know."
"And you've probably already fucked them, mister 'perpetual bachelor,'" Sam teased.
Michael shrugged and grinned sheepishly, his dimples melting me to my core.
That night, in bed, I curled into Sam and started to kiss his neck. "It's late, love," he mumbled, snuggling me with his eyes closed. I ignored his protests and kissed up to his ear, nibbling on his earlobe.
He turned to face me. "You always get randy whenever Michael's in town," he teased.
"I like him," I said. "We had a fun night together and I want to continue it." I ran my fingers softly over his chest, pouting.
"You have a crush on him," he accused, his eyes laughing. "I saw the way you were looking at him all night."
"Oh yes," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "What I really want is to be in Michael's hotel room, but that's all the way across town and it's SO late. I guess I'll just have to make do with you tonight."
"Is that so?" he growled, reaching down to slide two fingers inside of me. I gasped as he pumped in and out of my wetness. "You want to leave me for him?"
"Yeah actually, do you have cab fare?" I asked. He responded by thumbing my clit. I gasped for breath to continue the joke. "Not enjoying... this at all... if only you were six inches shorter..."
Sam rolled over finally, pouncing on me. "My size has never been a problem before," he grinned, guiding his long, thick cock into me and biting my neck. I moaned as he entered me, grinding my body into his. He fucked me fast and hard for a moment, my breasts bouncing with each thrust. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Then he slowed, pulling out and pushing into me with steady, deliberate thrusts. We both looked down to watch his stiff member plunge into me again and again.
Suddenly, he grabbed my hair, pulling my head back so I met his eyes. His thrusting stopped. "Who do you belong to?" he asked.
"You," I moaned, "always you."
Satisfied, he thrust back into me. "Damn straight," he said, biting my neck. With that, he thrust back into me, fucking me hard and deep until we came together.
He collapsed on top of me, our limbs tangled and our juices mingling. He stroked my hair gently. "Michael was always too short for me anyway," I said. He growled playfully, then covered me in kisses, pausing only to suck my neck long enough to leave a scarlet hickey.
"Mine," he said.
The following day we were both busy with work, and Michael was too tired after his conference to go out in the evening. We made plans for Friday: jazz at a small club in Williamsburg followed by cocktails. By Friday evening, the hickey on my neck had faded a few shades, and I was glad to wear something other than a turtleneck after two days of hiding it at work. I dressed in an off-the-shoulder black cocktail dress that accentuated the curve of my ass-which Sam had once mentioned that Michael "adored"-and revealed my slender legs. Still, I chose to wear my short blonde hair down, pinned back only on the unmarked side of my neck. As a final touch, I dabbed on bright red lipstick.
We met Michael outside our building and walked to the subway together. On the train, there was only one free seat available, so the boys offered to stand. I watched them chatting: my Sam, tall and scruffy with his stubble and curly hair, and Michael, shorter but dapper, so confident. He noticed me watching them and flashed a grin, his smile brightening his dark eyes. I smiled back. We got off at the next stop, and I led the way up the stairs. At one point I glanced back, and caught both the boys appreciating my ass as I climbed the steps.
I danced with both of them that night, Michael making up for his short stature with grace and flattery. I didn't know how to dance to jazz, but he guided and twirled me with such confidence that I felt beautiful on the dance floor. I caught Sam's eye and he confirmed it, watching me with lust in his eyes.
By two o'clock, we were all unsteady on our feet after hours of dancing and swilling cocktails. Still, spirits were high, and Sam opted to call a cab instead of dealing with the subway again. We piled into the backseat, and I found myself sandwiched between the boys, my skirt high on my thighs from the way I had scooted into the middle.
I rested my head on Sam's shoulder, suddenly exhausted. We giggled together the whole ride home.
Back in front of our apartment building, Sam paid the driver. "Goodnight, Michael," I said, leaning back through the door, pressing my ass into Sam.
"Don't be silly," Sam said, "he's coming in for a nightcap."
I was surprised, but Michael obliged. Suddenly I didn't feel tired anymore. We climbed the stairs to our apartment and I made sure to walk ahead of them again. Once inside, I sank into the couch, slipping off my shoes and putting my feet up on the coffee table. Michael sat in the armchair adjacent to me and leaned back. He had the distant but contented expression that I knew as his drunk face.
"Gin and tonics all around?" Sam called from the kitchen.
Michael nodded. "Yes please," I answered. "And ice waters."
