Cuffed to my Roomies

by Natasha Black

  “I’m not waiting tables anymore. I switched to bartending. The timing of the shift works better with my internship hours, and the people I work with are really nice.”

  “A bar, though. Lynnie, we talked about this when you were in college. You insisted you knew best, but didn’t you have trouble with men trying to hit on you?”

  “That’s true of waitressing too,” I said, “and bartending’s easier. Less rushing around on my feet. And I make better money.”

  “I’d be happier if you were working as a waitress. You know what it looks like when a woman makes alcoholic drinks. I’m sure not all female bartenders have tank tops and big hair, but it’s not as respectable as waiting tables. That’s a woman’s job. Bartending, dealing with men who drink too much, that’s men’s work. A smart girl would stick to what is safer,” he said, his voice gentle but scolding. It took everything I had to bite back a sigh.

  He ate his burger and fries. I didn’t have much appetite. I tried to let him know I got to attend staff meetings and talk to editors and other interesting people at the magazine, and that I never walked home alone from work.

  “My roommates, the two cops who helped me out when my car broke down, they’re really protective. They come to the bar every night after their shift, not to drink but to look out for me and drive me home.”

  “That’s good of them. Like older brothers,” Dad said. I tried to think of something, anything to say that would clarify the relationship without giving too much away.

  “We’re all three good friends. It’s a safe building, and I like it there,” I said.

  “Are you dating anybody?” he asked, eyeing me.

  “Well,” I hesitated, “I’ve been seeing someone special, but it’s a little early to introduce you.”

  “Good, good. Now, since you’ve caught me up on what’s going on in your life, I feel like I ought to tell you the truth. I’m seeing someone,” he said, his eyes firmly fixed on the napkin beside his plate.

  “Seeing someone? That’s great,” I said, taking his hand, “I’m really happy for you.”

  “You are?” he said, the concern in his brow smoothing out until he looked almost younger.

  “Yes! Why wouldn’t I want you to be happy? Mom’s been gone a very long time.”

  “I drove up here to clear the air with you about dating again. I didn’t feel right keeping it from you. I’m glad to hear you say you’re okay with it. I thought you might be upset that I was serious about somebody after your mama.”

  “She’s been gone since I was little, Daddy. It’s high time you did something for yourself. I just want you to be happy, no matter what,” I said, a little bit tearful.

  “Thank you, sweetie. That makes me real happy to hear you say that,” he said, patting my hand.

  Why wouldn’t I be happy for him? I loved him and wanted the best for him. It dawned on me then that he must feel the same way about me, that as long as I was happy and healthy, nothing else was important. He’d understand.

  I got to my feet, “Daddy, I know you’re driving home this afternoon, but do you have time to go somewhere with me? I think I changed my mind. I want you to meet who I’m in love with,” I said bravely.

  “In love with? Well, that right there’s pretty serious, sweetie. Of course I’ll come meet your boyfriend. I hope he’s a standup guy from a good family.”

  We got in my dad’s old pickup, the familiar smell of peppermint and motor oil wafted to my nose. I breathed it in, feeling such a rush of familiarity, of good memories from my childhood riding beside him while we went to pick up parts from the salvage yard, playing country music on the radio. This was my dad, the one who taught me to ride a bike. He’d never want to hurt me, would never give me up because I disagreed with him. Love and family were stronger than that. I knew it.

  I texted the guys, who were both at home. “I’m bringing Daddy to meet you. Forgive me for doubting,” I messaged them.

  We pulled up to the firehouse, and I explained it was converted into lofts, that I rented a room in one of them. We went up the stairs.

  Brett opened the door, hulking and strong, clean cut and quiet.

  “Sir,” he said, holding out his hand.

  I held my breath, but my dad shook his hand, “Good to meet you, son. I’m Lynnie’s daddy. Tell me about yourself.”

  “I’m Brett Harding. I’m twenty-nine years old, and I’ve been a police officer for seven years. This is my best friend Derek Jennings, my partner on the force. He was kind enough to let me move in here after my divorce a little over a year ago,” Brett said, polite and grave.

  “Mr. Weaver,” Derek said with his handsome smile, “I see you’ve brought our girl back.”

  “Your girl?” my father asked, looking confused.

  “Have a seat, Daddy. There’s something you should know.”

  My dad sat down on Brett’s recliner, looked from one of us to the other, “I’ll be honest with you. I wasn’t happy that my daughter was renting a room from two men. My girlfriend, that is the lady I’ve been seeing, assured me that you two were probably homosexuals so I had nothing to worry about. See, her son is a homosexual and he’s a good guy. Little bit fancy, but a good kid. So what I don’t understand is if you were divorced—are you not a homosexual?” he asked Brett.

  My eyes got wide. Did my dad just ask Brett Harding if he was gay? Who asks someone that the first time they meet? Or ever? I shook my head.

  “Daddy,” I said, “they’re not gay. If they were, they’d still be the best friends I’ve ever had. I know you’ll love them once you get to know them, but please keep an open mind. I’m really happy here.”

  “Do you mean to tell me that you’re living here like you’re in an episode of that Three’s Company with men who like women?” he said, his eyes narrowing.

  “That wouldn’t be exactly accurate,” Derek said, “We aren’t just good friends, sir. We both love your daughter. Very much.”

  “I hope you mean like she’s your little sister,” my father said, getting to his feet.

  “No,” I said, knowing I had to be the one to say it, “I’m very safe there and taken care of. These two men—I’m in love with them. We’re together. I’m seeing them both, and I know it’s unconventional, but we’re very happy, and it works for us. I was afraid to tell you, because I was afraid you’d disown me—" my voice broke, willing him to say that he could never do that to his baby girl.

  “This is not how I raised you, Lynette Catherine Weaver. This is perversion. It disgusts me. I can only hope that when I get you back home you’ll come to your senses.”

  “I am home, Daddy,” I said, tears streaming down my face, “I’m not leaving with you. I want to be here with Derek and Brett. They’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They’ve loved me unconditionally even when I didn’t deserve it. So I’m begging you to think about this—to stop and think before you walk out of here. Because we can’t take back what we’re saying.”

  “I don’t want to take it back. I was ready to be okay with you living with a couple of gays, but not this, not shacking up with two men like a common whore.”

  I covered my mouth to muffle the sob.

  “You need to go,” Derek said, taking my father by the arm, “We’re not going to stand by and listen to you talk to Lynette that way. She’s a good, decent human being and she’s worth a hundred of you and your prejudices. You’re not welcome here until you’re ready to apologize and accept her for who she is. She’s an incredible woman. A woman you raised, by the way. You should be proud of her, and ashamed of yourself.”

  Derek escorted my dad to the door and shut it behind him. I sank down onto the recliner, crying like my heart was broken. I had been so wrong to bring my father there, to introduce them. Everything I’d feared had happened. I was an orphan—no mother and now no father. He’d walked out on me by choice, called me a whore. I was sure would never see him again.

  23

  Brett held me in his arms
. I sniffed and blew my nose on the tissues Derek had brought me.

  “I’m sorry,” I told them, “I’m sorry I brought him here. He said terrible things to the two of you. He’s not—capable of realizing that you two are the most amazing men I’ve ever met. That I’m so lucky to have you.”

  Brett kissed the top of my head.

  “It’s okay. We’ve got you,” he said.

  I shook my head, pulled away.

  “I owe you both an apology for this,” I said.

  “No, I think I understand now why you didn’t want to be open with him,” Derek said.

  “I owed it to myself to be honest, and what’s more, I owed it to you to be proud of the men in my life and to admit how lucky I am to have you both. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “You won’t have to find out,” Derek said, “We’re in this for the long haul. We had a talk this morning. Neither of us is willing to give up. It’s too good, too right.”

  “I love you,” Brett said, “not only like a best friend.”

  My chest felt like it swelled and I gave a watery smile. I hugged him, “I love you, too. And you, Derek. So much.”

  Derek hugged the back of me.

  “We should go to bed,” he suggested. I laughed, but I didn’t argue.

  “It’s been a big day. I want to reconnect with you two, let you know how much I love and value you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’ll never shy away from this again. I’ll always—I’ll always regret losing him. I’ll always miss him, but I know I did the right thing. It felt good to be honest about us.”

  Derek kissed me softly, “Know what else feels good?” he teased.

  “Show me,” I said.

  An hour later we were all three panting on the bed, Brett’s hand on my bare hip, my head on Derek’s outstretched arm. We were sweaty, sated, when my phone rang. I crawled across Derek and fished my phone out of my purse on the floor. It was Liz Markham’s number.

  “H-hello?” I stammered.

  “Lynette, good, I’m glad I reached you. We need to meet tomorrow. I’ll be back in the office. Your article blew me away. It was so honest, so sex-positive. I love it. We’re going to develop it and lead with it on our relationships feature for next month.”

  “Oh my God! Thank you!” I said.

  “Celia will text you to set up a time. I’m boarding a plane, so I have to go, but I wanted to tell you personally that my faith in your potential was not misplaced. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” I said again as she hung up. I dropped the phone on the bed side table.

  “Guys!” I said, “Liz Markham LOVED my article and it’s being published next month! I’m going to be in Envy! My first real article!” I squealed.

  Brett kissed me. His tongue slow and deep in my mouth firing a warmth that suffused my body. At once, I was aroused again, all thoughts of exhaustion forgotten. “Mmmm,” I moaned.

  Derek’s fingers brushed my mound, and I gave a shudder. I wanted his fingers all over me, inside me. I wanted both of them now.

  “You like that, don’t you,” he said, his voice a low hum in my ear behind me as Brett continued to kiss me. Brett plucked at my nipples until they were sharp points, sensitive and aching.

  I loved the feel of Derek reaching around me, his fingers parting my slick folds to fondle me as Brett kissed me and stimulated my nipples.

  “I want you,” I whispered, “Both of you.”

  “I’m all yours,” Derek said, “where do you want me?”

  I broke the kiss, looked back over my shoulder at him, “I want you on your back.”

  He grinned, laid back on the bed, arms behind his head. His erection was hard, dark at the tip and I could see a bead of moisture. I knew it would taste of salt and his own musk. I couldn’t resist. I broke away from Brett and took Derek’s cock in my mouth, moaning as the taste of him filled me, his thickness, his hardness. I turned on all fours to devour him. His hand was in my hair, holding me there. I gasped as Brett took my hips in his big hands and held me steady. I knew it was coming, his huge cock about to penetrate me. The anticipation already had me clenching, had shivers of pleasure running through my body. When the head of his cock nudged the softness of my sex, I cried out around Derek’s cock. Brett took me hard, all at once, his cock buried inside me, his thighs slapping against mine with a lewd sound as I sucked Derek. I was moaning with every thrust, and Derek’s grip on my hair was just hard enough to make my scalp tingle. I was throttling toward a massive climax, my mouth and pussy full of the men I loved. I was caught right at the edge when Derek pulled my face up from his cock. He moved fast, brought my face to his and kissed me, soft and slow, parting my lips and sliding his tongue in my mouth in languorous strokes until I shivered with a jolt of cold, my nipples stinging with the arousal.

  “Come here,” he said, and Brett pulled out of me.

  Derek gathered me into his lap and brought me down over his cock. My legs wound around him. His arms wrapped around me, all muscle. I could feel the planes of his hard chest against my nipples, his cock fit perfectly into me, our stomachs pressed together, his mouth on mine. It was the most intimate position I’d ever been in, more intimate even than having his cock in my mouth.

  We rocked together, making love truly. I kissed him back with my whole heart, weeping as I came, shattering with great convulsions of my inner muscles around his stiff cock. He kept kissing me as I trembled, kept thrusting into me until he came. I felt another climax take me at the sweet, hot rush of his cum filling me.

  He laid me gently back on the bed. Brett was waiting for me, his cock in his hand, still hard for me.

  “Please,” he said, “come to me.”

  I crawled toward him, spent, but determined to give him the same satisfaction, the same closeness Derek had given me while Brett had selflessly waited. I crawled up his body, my lips meeting his. I kissed him, gorgeous Brett whose stupid wife had thought he wasn’t enough for her in bed. I caught his hand and pressed it to my heavy, aching breast. He plucked at my nipple, tugging and pinching until I was rigid with wanting. I rode the thigh he’d pressed between my legs, getting the pressure I needed from the muscular leg he drove against my pussy. I kissed him and kissed him, whispering to him, “Tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything.”

  “I want all of you,” he said. He flipped me onto my back, pushed my thighs apart.

  “Oh yes,” I breathed. He thrust into me, so big that I thought I was split in two, the fire of arousal warring with the heaviness of his invasion of my body. I wanted more, even though I wasn’t sure I could take it.

  “Can you—can you go deeper?” I whispered hoarsely.

  He lifted my hips and plunged into me until I cried out. Then I reached for him, gathered him in my arms, pulled him down fully on top of me.

  “I don’t want to crush you,” he said, dragging his mouth from mine for an instant before his tongue was back in my mouth, frantic to be joined to me in every way possible.

  “More,” I insisted, taking all of his weight onto me, our legs and arms tangled, our tongues tangled, his hard chest pressing against my nipples and his huge cock driving into me fast and hard. I gripped the sheets, my head tossing back and forth. He levered himself up to pump faster, to drive us both mad. As he did, Derek appeared beside me, his mouth on my neck, his fingers on my nipples. I jerked at the overwhelm on my senses.

  Brett cried out with a fast climax, spurting hot inside me. I bucked beneath him, joined to him. Derek’s fingers slipped down my belly, found my clit and rubbed it. The gentleness of his cool fingers took me. My body seized up around Brett’s cock, milking him as I came so hard under Derek’s fingers.

  I know I screamed their names. I know I said forever. I know I had everything I could ever want.

  We lay in bed together afterward, kissing and touching softly, sleepy but never satisfied. I curled up between them, perfectly happy.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

/>   I hadn’t worked at the bar for about eight months, not since I got my full-time staff position as a writer for Envy, heading up a newer more investigative section of the publication that took on issues beyond sex and fashion, but I still stopped in to see Jason and Cammie from time to time. I’d been at their courthouse wedding about a month ago, but I hadn’t seen them since. So when Cammie called to ask if I could stop in after work, I agreed.

  It was always weird to use the customer entrance instead of coming in the staff door, but I remembered to do it. The place was dark. I looked around.

  “Surprise!” came a shout. The lights flipped on. The place was full of purple balloons and a sign that said Happy Birthday Lynette on it in swirly letters.

  I clapped my hands. Cammie came out and hugged me.

  “I cannot believe you did this,” I said, “Thank you!”

  “It wasn’t my idea. It was those two,” Cammie said.

  Behind her, at the bar, stood Brett and Derek, each holding a dozen roses for me. I ran to them, threw my arms around them both.

  “I love you,” I whispered, kissing first one and then the other of them.

  “We have another surprise for you,” Derek said.

  “What could be better than this?” I said.

  “We had a little help. From Barbara.”

  Barbara was my dad’s girlfriend. I’d talked to her on the phone for months and gotten to know her. She was a very cool, no nonsense woman, and she must have come up to the city for my birthday to meet my guys. She was really supportive. I’d met her son, Malcolm, and his husband months ago when they were in town and they were terrific. If they weren’t in Boston for a conference, I knew they’d have been here too.

  I turned around, ready to greet Barbara in person for the first time. Instead, I saw my dad, with a plump older woman in a fabulous peacock blue caftan and long earrings. She was holding a martini in one hand and my father’s arm with the other.

  “Daddy?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.