When word got around that I was in Dallas for a few days, another of my wife's friends, Meryl from The Dallas School Girls, and her husband Mitch, invited me for cocktails.
To say they are well off may seem redundant as one rides the private elevator to the penthouse overlooking uptown Dallas. The elevator opens to a small alcove with only one other door and a doorbell.
The door opened before I touched the bell.
Meryl is rail thin. Some might say bony. Cancer had taken her breasts years ago, but she carried herself with grace and poise. She wears her wrinkles with pride earned by experience. When she answered the door, she was wearing a below-the-knee black dress, tight at the waist and hips. A sprinkle of sequins caught the light across her shoulders.
Her husband is a bit older. Retired and in his 70s, Mitch is tall with a full head of gray hair and a fitness born from walking miles of golf courses. His blue eyes wrinkle when he smiles, which is often. He was standing behind the bar, wearing a gray suit, and a bow tie with a small paisley pattern.
I was slightly underdressed in my dark suit jacket and tan slacks.
Meryl's voice was almost musical in its charm. "Come in, dear. Welcome." Her fingertips at my elbow, she guided me inside. "Mitch is making martinis. You will have one, won't you dear?"
"Of course."
The main room was spacious and perfectly decorated. Though the art on the walls may have been expensive, it was carefully selected to not compete with the extraordinary view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Almost as soon as we sat down, a young woman appeared with hors d'oeuvres. Soft curls framed her seriously professional face. She wore a white apron that hugged her medium breasts. A black pant suit flared below her slim hips. Though she walked to the small table in front of the sofa, her eyes barely strayed from Mitch.
"This is Carmella. She's helping me out tonight. She made all the hors d'oeuvres."
"Thank you, Carmella. It looks wonderful."
The food was welcome since Mitch's martini was a bit stronger than I was used to.
With a last look at our host, Carmella started humming as she disappeared back into what I guessed was the kitchen.
"That song?"
"What dear?"
"It sounded like Carmella was humming, 'Deep in the Heart of Texas.'"
"Oh, yes dear. That's a little joke between her and Mitch. Maybe he'll tell you someday."
I looked around, awkwardly. "I seem to be the only guest."
"Did I give the impression it was a large gathering, dear? I am so sorry. No, we wanted you to ourselves." She took my hand, pressing the palm to her cheek. "Very intimate." I wondered if she could feel my pulse racing against her skin
Mitch broke the spell. "So, how have you been? We've hardly seen you since the funeral."
"Well, yes, sweetheart. The dear man moved all the way to California. Los Angeles, I dare say. Escaping your grief, dear?"
I took a minute to find an answer. "That and a job offer. Figured the change of scenery would do me good."
"By scenery, dear, I assume you mean all the blonde bimbos willing to trade their virtue for an audition."
"I wouldn't know anything about that."
Mitch jumped to my defense. "Of course not. Besides, no one could take the place of that wife of yours. I tell ya, I will miss her hugs."
Meryl chuckled. "Her hugs weren't so different from mine. Neither of us had to worry about wearing a bra, if we didn't want to. So, I never do, do I sweetheart? Nor panties, for that matter." She laughed at her own joke and emptied her glass.
Carmella stepped from the kitchen. "Meryl, I'm about done."
"Of course, Carmella." Meryl turned to us. "You'll have to excuse me, gentlemen. I'm sure you can find something to talk about." She gave Mitch a quick wink before stepping into the kitchen and closing the door.
"What was that about?"
As Mitch refilled my glass, he seemed to be humming, absentmindedly. " What? Oh, she has to check the kitchen before she signs Carmella's time card."
"No, I mean the wink. I hope I'm not keeping you two from something."
"Oh, hardly that." He took an unusually deep breath. "In fact, I'm rather hoping you'll join us in something."
"Look, I'm sorry, but if it's some multi-level marketing scheme, I learned a long time ago..."
Mitch's laugh was deep with surprise. "No, no. Nothing like that. You see..." He took a drink. "Did your wife ever mention that Meryl and I are swingers?"
I took a drink.
"That looks like a no. OK. Well, see, when we were first married, it was the 1960s. Everything was rock music and drugs and free love. If you wanted to prove you were free and liberated and your own person, you didn't let society define who you chose to love."
"Okay, yeah."
"We discovered we enjoyed sharing our love with others. And it's so much better when it's a friend you already care about. Your wife even joined us a few times."
I looked up suddenly. Mitch rushed to correct any misunderstanding.
"Ah, no. That was in the '90s when she was still married to that asshole and miserable."
"Those stories I have heard."
"I figured."
"So, Mitch, you don't mind your wife fucking other men?"
"Not as long as everyone is of legal age and agreeable up front. Plus, I find it makes me really excited when Meryl cums with someone else. And they make her cum in return. Ever since your wife passed, I've been thinking you may need some company."
It didn't seem like the right time to tell him about the "company" I've been sharing with other members of the Dallas School Girls.
"All right. You've been thinking. But what does Meryl say about this particular threesome?"
Before Mitch could answer my question, Meryl emerged from the kitchen, accompanying Carmella, who was carrying her coat with one hand while fidgeting her hair with the other. Her lipstick seemed slightly smeared.
"Carmella needs to go, you two."
"Good night, Carmella. Everything was delicious."
Meryl walked out, using her keycard to call the elevator. I could tell one of them humming. They shared a hug and long kiss on the mouth util the elevator door opened. Carmella stepped inside, turned back to Meryl and waved and started singing softly. "That's perhaps, they all wear chaps, deep in the heart..." The door closed on the end of the phrase.
Meryl watched the closed door for a moment, before walking back inside the apartment, wistfully humming the same final line of the song. But when she saw me, the wistfulness in her eyes was replaced by an intense smouldering.
"Did he ask you? What did you say? Please say yes. We'd love to share our bed with you."
"How can I say no?"
She strode past me to pick up her glass and down the martini. She handed Mitch the empty glass. "Refill that for me, sweetheart. And you," with her back to me she wiggled up close. "Unzip me, will you? All the way down, dear."
The zipper went halfway down her ass, revealing the promised lack of bra and panties.
She turned toward the two of us, the dress falling off one side, allowing a quick glimpse of her pale chest, void of swell or nipple.
"I'll wait in the master suite. Bring the glasses and the shaker. Don't be long."
I looked at Mitch, speechless. He shrugged. "I would say she's OK with the idea."
We gathered the martini paraphernalia and walked the long hall to the bedroom. The door was standing open, displaying a huge room lit by countless candles. A king-size bed was against the far wall. It seemed more pillows than blankets.
"Do you like it?" I looked to my left as Meryl emerged from a closet bigger than my living room. A black lace chemise hung straight down from her shoulders, barely reaching the gusset of a black thong.
Mitch nudged me.
"Huh? Oh. Oh, yes. It's ..." suddenly distracted by my cock moving along my pant leg. "It's breathtaking."
"Oh, you are a dear." She made the walk to the bed. "Come sit beside me, handsome."
I moved toward her as Mitch crossed to a plush chair set to one side. Since it was positioned to face the bed, I guessed it was put there for this purpose.
I sat on the bed, my thigh up against hers. As she rested her fingers on my lap, I slipped a hand behind her head and pulled her to me for a soft kiss. Her perfume was exquisite. I kissed her again, letting my tongue meet hers in that time-honored dance.
Meryl moved her hand onto my chest, pressing into me without pushing away. I moved my kiss to her neck, then up to suck her earlobe. When she whimpered softly, I gently bit down.
"Oh, dear." She shivered. "He's biting my earlobe. Mitch, did you tell him to do that? You know it's my favorite."
"It was my wife's favorite as well." I whispered hot breath into her ear. "I took a chance." And nibbled the earlobe once more, with equal results.
It was Mitch's turn to pipe up. "I remember a few other things your wife enjoyed." I looked over to see he had removed his jacket and tie. The starched shirt was unbuttoned and he was slowly rubbing the front of his pants. "You may want to try some of those."
"Ooo yes, dear. Do try."
Taking Meryl's face in both hands, I kissed her long and hard. I turned her head so my mouth was at her other ear. "My wife liked when I talked dirty. Telling her how I'm going to fuck her like a cheap whore. Would you like that, Meryl?"
