Triad

by Selena Kitt

  * * * *

  The night of the opening was cool, autumn was drawing to a close and the winter winds while not yet biting, were definitely brisk. She could have worn a coat, maybe she should have but she wanted to wear a shawl from her new collection. The collection soon to be seen in Neiman Marcus, thanks to the wonderful work of Niall and Sara Graeme—so pleased were they with her ‘posing’ they rewarded her with their combined talent for free. As a result she had a professional portfolio that had drawn the attention of the major Department stores. When she entered the Latham Gallery there was an audible hush, faces turned to her and fingers were raised to point. She was an object of attention. Something that she’d come to love since her wicked photo shoot.

  She had not seen the results of that passionate day, no matter how curious she had been she forced herself to wait. Wait to see Sara’s vision. On the rear wall were mounted five huge canvases surrounded by people. Inara surmised that they were the centerpiece of the showing. She moved easily through the crowd, people parting as soon as they realized who she was. Finally standing in front of the canvas she took a deep breath and looked up. Looked up to see her own face, mouth slack, eyes closed quite obviously in the throes of orgasm. The next canvas was her from below, life-size. It was shot from between her thighs, her fingers hovering over the swollen pink petals of Sara’s painted garden.

  The others were artful shots of her body, close ups of her painted flesh. They were sexy and divinely beautiful. They were mixed media combining the photographs of Niall with the exquisite painting of Sara. There were none of the more explicit shots that she knew Niall had taken. She was relieved, and slightly disappointed. She had both feared and wanted to see it. To see her fingers speared in her pussy, spreading the swollen flesh for all to see. To stand in the crowd while strangers watched her come.

  She felt him, his erection pushing into her lower back. Niall was behind her, he murmured, “They’re beautiful aren’t they?”

  “Yes, Niall, they are. I’m really pleased with them.”

  A soft puff of air vibrated against her ear as she heard him chuckle. “Liar,” he said.

  She turned to face him saying, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’re a liar. You’re not entirely pleased are you? You wanted more didn’t you?” His words were low, they made her shudder and heat pool between her legs. “You wanted them all to see you come didn’t you, dirty girl? You wanted all the lovely people to see your fingers pressed into your wet pussy.”

  She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her mouth, Nothing had happened since that day. Both Sara and Niall had been supremely professional when they photographed her collection. She’d come to think that nothing more would come of their encounter. But now, with his wicked words whispered close to her ear and the press of his erection against her belly she wondered if more was to come. As if in answer she felt Sara press from behind, sandwiching her between their two bodies.

  “We have another showing planned, did you know?” Sara said softly.

  “No,” she answered in a breathless whisper.

  “A private showing, a select audience who have been invited to see the whole collection.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. And for that night we think we’ll need something special. A live model. Painted up on a pedestal. Would you like that?”

  Inara shook her head even as her body screamed out YES. She wanted it, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t ask for it.

  “Well then we’ll have to play for it. Won’t we, Sara?”

  “Yes. Another wager. Would you wager for it, Inara?”

  And just like that Inara found herself painted into another corner.

  About Darcy Sweet

  Darcy Sweet has a dirty secret-she has a head full of wicked stories.

  She’s thinking of them in the line at the grocery store, at the library, in the bank and sitting in the car at a red light. At first she only shared them with her husband now she’s decided to share them with you. When not writing or thinking about writing she’s reading or negotiating peace terms between the argumentative little people who live with her. She is a music snob who loves to make mix-tapes of little known music. Her current musical obsession is foul mouthed depressive Scottish bands.

  She loves erotica and hopes that her stories make you hot and bothered. Her favorite erotica authors are Selena Kitt, Emma Holly, Michelle Houston, Portia Da Costa and because she’s partial to a Bromance, the very, very wicked Habu.

  A BEAUTIFUL FRIENDSHIP

  By Will Belegon

  It had been almost two months since the weekend when I lost my virginity and things had never been better. Gena and I were getting along great. Every chance we got we snuck away to some secluded place and attacked each other. After years of wondering why my friends were so fascinated and daring about sex, my raven-haired beauty was showing me what I had been missing. Every day I got to know her body’s mixture of hard muscle and soft curves a little better. Every time we made love I was better at it, and I was getting lots of practice.

  Even though Gena was by far the best thing to ever happen to me, it was not just my relationship with her that was going well. The band in which I played, a heavy metal outfit called Assassination, had gotten a gig almost every weekend. Rehearsals are great, but nothing pulls you together as a unit faster than playing in front of a crowd. Okay, “crowd” may be a little strong, but even playing keggers seemed like a crowd instead of the normal audience of just our girlfriends. We were making more money than we were spending for the first time in the year we had been playing together, and Sean and Jimmy were writing some great songs.

  As a matter of fact, the only really bad thing in my life was my stupid car. I was tired of sinking money into it and was saving up to buy a new one. A friend of my Dad’s had an old VW bus he was willing to sell me, and as soon as I could save a thousand dollars, it was mine. Not only would the VW make for an easier way to haul my guitars and amps but it had a bed in the back. Gena and I could not wait.

  So even though the band was doing so well, I was still working thirty plus hours at “the Box”. Flipping burgers wasn’t glamorous, but it paid steady and I had been there long enough that I was making almost a dollar more than minimum wage. At $4.80 an hour, that thousand bucks was not that far off. Besides, it gave me a chance to get paid for being with my best friend.

  If Gena was my muse, Sandy was my mentor. Sandy was a few years older than me on the calendar but she was light years ahead in experience. At 26 she had already been dealt a rough hand by life but she just kept going. Being a single mother was hard, even in the modern world of the eighties. Yet she never complained much. A couple of times she had confessed to me how lonely it could get, but with her mom and dad helping with her daughter and the life insurance money socked away, she was better off than most people in her situation. Becoming a widow at 22 could have killed her spirit, but instead she was the strongest lady I had ever met.

  I told Sandy everything of course. After all, she had been my confidant long before Gena came along and I still trusted her opinion and loved how she did not treat me like a child despite our age difference. She was very excited for me. She never made it to gigs because of the kid, but she had started taking Tae Kwan Do lessons at the same dojo where Gena studied. Gena and Sandy hung out together quite a bit lately, and I think Gena knew how much I told Sandy, but she never seemed to mind. Gena told me she was glad I had a friend like Sandy.

  One September Thursday, Sandy gave me a surprise.

  “Lance, all these months I’ve heard how great you are on that guitar,” Sandy said to me as we were getting ready for the lunch rush, “I think it’s time I heard it for myself.”

  “What do you mean?” I replied.

  “Well, Gena told me you have a real show this Saturday night, not just a party. She said you’re opening for a band from Hollywood at a little spot in North Park.”

  “Yeah,” I said with pride, “Our first time
on a real bill. I’ve got a flier in my locker. But how can you come? What about Missy?”

  “Greg’s parents are picking her up from school on Friday and are going to take her to Disneyland all weekend. I think they’re crazy to take a five year old to D-land two straight days, but I can use the adult time. Besides,” said Sandy, “This means I can sit stage right with Gena and play groupie.”

  “Yeah right,” I replied with my best wicked little grin, “You have no idea how much I’d like you to play groupie.”

  “Why Lance,” said Sandy in a false southern drawl, “Whateva must y’all mean?” So saying she brushed past me to go back to the cooler. As she moved past me I could have sworn I felt her fingertips run across my ass! But no, I must have been imagining things. Sandy was a sweetheart and a great gal, but she had already proven that she had no interest in me that way.

  Back when I first started working at JB’s, I was paired up with Sandy on my very first day. By the time I went to lunch I was in love. Okay, maybe that is a little bit strong. I was in lust. Sandy had the blond-haired blue-eyed surfer girl look down perfectly. Her body was trim and hard. She was not super thick in any place, but she was very muscular. I imagined her build must be similar to that of a ballerina or jazz dancer, although I had never met one to test the theory. Her skin was very tan, since she still spent a lot of time out in the sun when she was not trapped in the grease pit we worked in. She looked like the kind of girl the quarterback would have dated in high school. In other words, way out of my league.

  It actually kind of calmed me down to think of her that way. Knowing I did not have a chance, I never tried to impress her. I think that is what paved the way for us to become friends.

  Despite the age difference and the fact that she was technically my boss, Sandy and I talked a lot at work. We also flirted outrageously. It was all in fun, but it still felt good when she would make teasing little comments to me or when she would deliberately make them to someone else in a way that assured me it was really for my ears. In a way, Sandy was the best thing to happen to my self-esteem in my whole life until Gena came along. She helped me overcome enough of my shyness that when I did finally get the chance to get to know a girl like Gena, I managed not to blow it. I would be paying that one back forever, even if Sandy was not really aware of it.

  Like I said though, I knew pretty much right away that Sandy was out of my league, and as I learned more about her this was reinforced.

  Sandy had a thing for pilots. Not airline pilots, or guys that flew piper cubs. No, Sandy had a thing for the best in the world. I knew for a fact that she often would go hang out at the officers club up in Miramar. Seen Top Gun? That is what I am talking about. Sandy had a thing for guys who faced danger as a daily business. That was how she had met Missy’s father.

  Greg had been one of them, the best of the best. I knew Sandy would never forget him, because our friendship went both ways and I had held her a few times while she cried over what had happened. I told her Greg was a hero. He could have bailed out when the F-14 was still over houses and saved himself, but instead he and his navigator rode the jet right into the side of a vacant hillside. Greg and I had never met, but I knew he had given his life to save others. I respected him for it. I also thought he had been crazy.

  Once he knew the plane was pointed into the hills he could have got out. How could you give up a gal like Sandy? I wonder if it would have changed things if he had known about Missy.

  Before I met Gena my number one goal had been to try and get Sandy in bed. Like I said, I knew it was a long shot at best, so I stayed playful and unassuming about it, never arrogant or pushy. She would play along and flirt with me, but whenever we were alone it toned down instead of heating up. For a while I kidded myself. Told myself that I could tell Sandy was holding back. I even thought I had figured out her reason. She did not want to get involved with me because she thought she would be taking advantage of an innocent boy.

  After I turned eighteen it was a little harder to convince myself of that. Eventually, I realized that flirting was all that was ever going to happen between us. Mind you, I still tried to change her mind.

  Then I met Gena, and everything changed. Sandy and I still flirted but now I had a reason to end it there. I did not want to do anything to cause a rift between Gena and I. I was head over heels for Gena. Still, every time I looked at Sandy I remembered why I had wanted her in the first place.

  So even though Gena and Sandy becoming friends was the best thing that could happen, sometimes it was a little bittersweet. There they were, my lover and my wildest fantasy, walking side by side. What would Gena think of me if she ever knew that?

  Sandy knew of course. How could she not? I just hoped she would keep it to herself and never tell Gena.

  I got out of work around seven and headed to the parking lot, praying that the car would actually start. It did, so I figured I was already ahead of the game for the night and headed over to Gena’s dojo to pick her up after her lesson. Not one she was taking, but one she was giving. Even after three months to get used to it, it was still weird to think that my girlfriend could kick my ass. Of course, she could probably do the same thing to every guy I knew. Once I tried to play macho when a guy was bugging her at a party. Gena told me in no uncertain terms that she could take care of herself.

  So the asshole thought that meant he was in like Flynn. Big mistake. Gena had him on his knees and begging her forgiveness within thirty seconds. Idiot should never have tried putting the arm around her shoulders. What could I do? I just walked back to my bandmates with a shrug as they all busted up laughing.

  Gena was waiting for me outside the dojo, talking to Sandy. I forgot she had a lesson tonight. That explained the early departure from work. As I pulled up in a cloud of burning oil, Sandy and Gena hugged each other and Sandy headed for her truck with a quick wave and a wink for me. Gena slid in as I left the motor running. I dared not turn it off.

  “Hiya Tiger,” said Gena, leaning over to kiss my cheek. Her face was flushed and warm. She put her left hand on my knee and kept it there. I glanced over as we headed east towards her house. She must have got a good workout tonight, because the ruddiness in her cheeks did not seem to be abating. The warm glow it leant her face made her even more beautiful to me.

  “Hey baby,” I growled back, “Did you have a good lesson?”

  “You could say that. Sometimes I think I learn as much from giving the lessons as they do from me. Oh, and by the way, you do know that I like Sandy and I am not jealous of how you used to try to fuck her, right?”

  I recovered in time to keep the car on the road.

  “Um, yeah, well, what do ya mean? I mean, she is just a friend ya know? There is nothing going on, I mean, I never tried anything, I …”

  Gena’s laughter brought me out of my stumbling denials. “Lance, relax. I meant what I said. I like Sandy. I’m not jealous. But I’m not blind either. And if you and I are both going to be friends with Sandy this needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later. You wanted her bad. Sometimes you still do. It’s okay.”

  “Umm, you’re not jealous? Even though we work together?”

  “Lance, I know you better than you know yourself. I trust you. One thing I can be sure of is that you will never cheat on me. Oh, you might break up with me so you could sleep with someone else. But you’ll never cheat. Your honor would not allow it. Plus, and baby, I am not saying this to hurt you; it would be too much like your mom. You would never do to someone what she did to your Dad.”

  Gena was right about that. I would never put anyone through the hell I had seen my dad go through. It just wasn’t in me.

  “So what time should I pick you up on Saturday Gena?” I asked hoping she would say very early. Despite all the hard work in the garage and at parties I was really nervous about Saturday night and I wanted to have the chance to let loose a little before the gig. One thing Gena and I had discovered in the past couple of months was that I played better
right after getting laid. It relaxed me enough that I found it easier to not tighten up my hands and I slipped into what Sean and Jimmy called “the zone”. What they meant was that I became oblivious to the external world and just lived in the music for a while. The guys said when I did that the band went from good to great, and all humility aside, I knew they were right.

  “Oh Lance, I’m sorry,” replied Gena, “I agreed to do a private lesson. I won’t be able to ride down in the van with you guys. But I promise I will get there as soon as I can and before the show starts. Sandy is going to pick me up. Don’t be mad, okay? Please?”

  “I’m not mad. It’s just that we are already missing out on Friday night because of your parent’s thing and I had hoped that Saturday afternoon…”

  Gena laid her finger across my lips to shush me. “I know what you hoped, you slut of a man. But if I promise to make it up to you, starting now, while you forgive me?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked as her hand slid up my thigh towards my crotch.

  As if to answer, her other hand came across to join the left and she began to unbutton my 501’s. I flipped on the headlights as she moved my boxers aside, thankful that the light was fading and hopeful no one would see her. As her lips touched my cock I prayed I would be able to concentrate enough to get us to her place alive. I barely succeeded.

  Friday I did not get to see Gena at all. I told Sandy all about my little adventure in a moving car. Big mistake. For the rest of the day, every time Sandy caught me looking at her, even for an instant, she licked her lips. It was exquisite torture.

  Saturday morning came and Sandy and I opened the store. I had deliberately asked for the early shift knowing I needed time to get ready for tonight and would have plenty of rest from not having seen Gena the night before.

  Sandy and I left JB’s at 3 p.m. sharp. I was really starting to get nervous now, and I knew Sandy could tell. She stopped me as I was about to get into my car.