Double Stuffed: An MFM Menage Romance

by Dawn, Daphne

  But I don’t bother with a re-write. I place the note on the pillow beside her so she doesn’t wake up confused to find me gone.

  I head to the studio. I know I will be there for a while. I get so consumed by my art when I am inspired, that time passes indefinitely for me.

  Taking a last glance at the direction of the bedroom, I tell myself I really will call her. Feeling assured by that thought, I close the door of the studio behind me.

  Once inside, I don’t have to stop and think, because I’m possessed with ideas. It’s the only way I can describe what’s happening to me. Grabbing the biggest canvas, I drag it to the center of the room where the morning light is brightest. There are dozens of images floating through my mind, but they're all images of her. Of Katherine.

  With the canvas in front of me, I take only a moment before I make the first bold stroke. There’s no confusion about what this piece will be. She’s in my head with each brush stroke, as if I’m painting a sensual symphony of colors.

  I feel like I'm on fire and that hasn’t happened in too long. Much too long.

  Katherine is my inspiration now, and I’m not going to question it. She’s my muse and I must have her sit for me. I don’t know how, but I’m not gonna work myself into a state about right now.

  I’m here in my studio and it’s where I need to be.

  I’ll call her. Later.

  Katherine

  “What time is it?”

  I whisper these words in the darkness of the room I’m in, stretching my arms as I say it. I feel the soft fabric of the sheets brushing against my naked body, and I realize that these aren’t my sheets.

  Nor is this my bed. And why the hell am I naked?

  It all comes to me then.

  Blake.

  Moving quickly, but carefully so as not to wake him up, I roll to the side and blink twice, trying to get my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. I half-expect to see the outline of his naked body, but all I find is emptiness.

  For half-a-second I think he must have bolted on me, but that doesn’t make any sense – I’m in his apartment, after all.

  Kicking the sheets back, I swing my legs off the bed and run one hand through my tangled hair. Thank God Blake isn’t around – I wouldn’t like him to see me with puffy eyes, morning breath, and messy hair. Still, he probably saw me drooling on my pillow right before he left, so there’s that.

  I stay there for a while, just sitting on the edge of the bed as I remember what happened last night. I came in here decided to just have dinner with Blake, and then…I just succumbed to him.

  I have no idea how that happened. I just know it did, and that it was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. Sure, I’m no virgin, but with Blake…it felt as if I had never been with a man before. He knows my body better than I do, and he predicts exactly what I want (or need) him to do.

  It’s surreal.

  No wonder he has a legion of women throwing themselves at his feet. Handsome, charming, wealthy, and an artist between the sheets (or up against the wall, for that matter)? Yeah, he sure earned his reputation.

  Okay, this was fun, sure. But it was nothing more than a fling, I need to remind myself of that. I know my writer’s mind enjoys weaving little love stories out of everything, but I need to stop myself before it’s too late. Blake isn’t the kind of a guy that loves a woman – for more than a few hours at least.

  Casual. I’ll keep things casual.

  “Right, casual,” I whisper to myself as I get up from the bed. I move toward the wall and hit the light switch, squinting as the bright light floods the room.

  I see my clothes neatly folded at the foot of the bed, and I can’t remember if I folded them myself or if Blake did it. It was probably me, as I can’t imagine him taking care of that.

  God, I was so exhausted from last night that I barely remember anything. I kinda remember him picking me up from the floor and carriying me to the bedroom, but it’s all a blur. The moment I felt the soft mattress under my back, I was out.

  I’m reaching for my clothes when I notice a folded piece of paper on top of Blake’s pillow. Climbing on top of the bed, I reach for it and open it.

  K – Had a great time. Call you later. B, the note reads.

  Well, at least he left a note. Still…his words seem so cold and distant. And the call you later part …I want to believe he’ll really call me, but deep down I know that men like Blake don’t do the phone call thing.

  I’ll probably never hear from him again.

  Jesus, why does that make me sad?

  I get dressed in a hurry, and then I grab my purse and tiptoe my way out of the bedroom. I know Blake isn’t around, but I can’t help being as silent as possible.

  The moment I’m out on the street, I hail a cab and make my way home. Right now, I need a shower more than anything. I need to clear my head – and try to stop thoughts of Blake from taking over my mind. Easier said than done, of course.

  The moment I step one foot inside my apartment, I feel my phone ringing inside my purse. I reach for it in a hurry, almost expecting to see Blake’s name plastered on the screen, but Robin’s the one calling me. Of course – she must be dying to hear about last night.

  She knows something happened. If it hadn’t happened, I’d just have called her after dinner.

  “Tell me everything,” she chirps happily as soon as I pick up the phone. “Every single detail.”

  “C’mon, Robin,” I sigh, throwing my purse on the small coffee table I have in the middle of the living room and sinking down onto my couch. “There’s nothing to–”

  “Uh-uh. No way. Don’t you lie to me, girl,” she laughs. “My spider-sense is tingling, and you know what that means. I can hear the I-just-got-laid tone on your voice. And by the sound of it, it must be gooood .”

  “Okay, okay,” I sigh, and then I just end up laughing. “Yeah, it was good.”

  “Oh my God! I knew it!”

  “Of course you knew it. It’s not like I can keep anything from you,” I sigh, propping my feet up on the coffee table and throwing my head back against the headrest. I close my eyes for a second and just enjoy the silence, waiting for Robin to start speaking again.

  “What now? You’re going to see him again, right?”

  “Robin, I…I don’t know. You know how guys like Blake are,” I tell her, and I feel my heart tightening up inside my chest. “To be honest, I doubt he’ll ever call me again. He had what he wanted, and now he’ll just disappear into thin air.”

  “You’re wrong,” she says matter-of-factly, almost as if she knows something I don’t. “I noticed the way he looks at you.”

  “I don’t think that –”

  “You think too much, and that has always been your problem, Kat. Trust me, he’ll call you again.”

  I sigh heavily, not replying as I ponder on her words. My brain tells me that no, I won’t hear from Blake again, but my heart insists on believing what Robin’s telling me.

  But it was just a fling, right?

  Katherine

  My fingers fly across the keyboard. Words pour out of me. There is no doubt about it; inspiration is flowing through me like a raging river. At this rate my next novel will be finished within the month.

  I pause to take a sip of my coffee. I savor the taste of the strong dark liquid. To say I’m a coffee addict is an understatement. I love a good cup of coffee.

  As I sip the delicious hot drink I re-read the last paragraph.

  “Emily watches the artist at work. The way he holds his paintbrush, his brow furrowed, his eyes totally focused on his canvas. His right hand moves deftly across the white space, filling it with life. Like pure poetry in motion.”

  My lips curl into a smile. I know where the inspiration has come from. There is no point denying the obvious. Perhaps it had not been such a bad idea giving into my animal instincts and having wild passionate sex with bad boy Blake.

  I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. Ima
ges of our hot sweaty bodies flash through my mind. I am reminding myself not to get too attached, when I am annoyed byt a sudden knock on the door.

  I wasn’t expecting anyone, and my heart performs little somersaults as I wonder if it’s Blake knocking. A longing creeps through me and I try not to sprint. I don’t want to appear desperate.

  With my most nonchalant look, I open the door. I have my left hand on my hip and smile brightly. I hope there’s not a hint of lust in my eyes.

  The second my eyes register who is standing in front of me, I deflate like a balloon. I am about to slam the door, but Dale puts his foot in the way.

  “We need to talk.”

  I huff. Talk? What a dick. “Piss off.” I snarl and fold both arms. Someone once told me to ward off negative energy other people give off, you should fold your arms in front of your body. It’s worth a shot.

  “Kath, please. Babe.”

  I hate the way he shortens my name. And he has the nerve to call me babe. Argh. How dare he?

  “What do you want Dale?” I realize I won’t get rid of him unless I talk to him. Un-friending him from social media sites and erasing his number was obviously not enough.

  He follows me into my apartment.

  “Writing again?”

  I want to tell him it’s none of his fucking business, but I don’t. Instead, I shrug because I really shouldn’t be so angry, and in fact, I should be thankful. If it had not been for Dale screwing someone else I would never have met Blake, nor would I have had the best sex ever.

  At the thought of sex with Blake, a wave of desire washes over me.

  “Babe, look,” Dale takes two or three steps toward me. He puts his left hand on my shoulder. With his right hand he strokes my cheek.

  His scent of cheap aftershave is almost overpowering. Had I really wanted to spend the rest of my life with him? I must have been deluded.

  I cringe at the touch and push his hand away. It simply does not compare to the way Blake touched me. My mind threatens to go off on a frolic of its own. I force myself to focus.

  “Get to the point Dale. I’m busy.”

  Dale’s expression changes to the hurt puppy look.

  “Babe I just want us to give it another go.” Again his hand reaches for me.

  This time he pulls me close and before I really know what is happening his lips are on top of mine. I feel his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. He holds me tight with both of his hands now.

  I can’t escape the forcefulness of his kiss. He pushes me against the wall of my apartment. My breathing increases. I feel his right hand reach for my breast, squeeze it and then move downward. In no time his hand is under my skirt, pushing my slip aside.

  A noise escapes my lips. Dale now presses hard into me and there is no mistaking what he wants. I can feel his erection.

  With one hand between my legs, Dale uses his other one to reach for my breast.

  This is my moment. I use all my will power to push Dale away. He stumbles.

  With lightening speed I put distance between the two of us. I reach for the closest object, a pair of scissors.

  “Don’t do that again,” I hiss and pull my skirt down.

  I’m surprised at my own reaction. I felt nothing but disgust when Dale groped me. To think a few weeks ago I was dreaming of having children with this man.

  “Bitch.” Dale is breathing hard.

  “I think you should leave.”

  Dale glares. He does not move.

  “You know why I had to have all those affairs?” I feel his spit land on my cheek.

  Pain shoots through me. Had he just admitted to multiple affairs? How stupid and naïve I had been. I had thought the peroxide bimbo had been the only one.

  “I don’t care.” And I really don’t. He cheated on me. Would knowing why really make any it better? I don’t think so. “I had all those other women because you’re frigid. You don’t know how to have great sex.”

  Now tears do well up and I clench my fists. Arrogant prick.

  “I pity the next man you date.”

  It takes all my effort not to scream at Dale’s face what a loser he is, and throw the closest thing within my reach, the only one of any real value in my apartment, my great grandmother’s porcelain vase.

  “Well, for your information I think you were the problem. You don’t know how to satisfy a woman. I pity the women who have sex with you.” I pause. “You probably pay them so they have no choice but to oblige and suffer through your grunting and pathetic attempt at getting a woman to have an orgasm.”

  Without another word I walk to the front door, scissors still in hand.

  “I think you better go and never come back,” I tell Dale, and then open the door for him to leave.

  When I open it I cannot believe my eyes. I know the man standing there about to knock. I wasn’t expecting him.

  Pushing Blake out of the way Dale storms past me. His parting words of ‘you won’t last long’ stay with me.

  Blake

  What the…?

  Am I hearing right? Is there an asshole inside Katherine’s apartment right now? It sure seems so.

  I can’t say I was expecting that. I drove all the way here to show her the sketch I did of her, and now there’s some random jackass to deal with it.

  Ah, fuck it.

  Raising my fist, I’m about to rap my knuckles against her door when it suddenly swings open. My eyes meet Katherine’s right away, and I can’t help but enjoy the surprise on her face. She wasn’t expecting to see me here.

  “You won’t last long,” the guy standing next to her mutters, stepping out the door and pushing me out of the way. I take one step back to let him through, but something in his tone of voice strikes a chord inside me.

  Before he can leave, I reach for him and grab him by the scruff of his shirt.

  “Play nice, asshole,” I tell him, turning on my heels to meet his gaze.

  Judging by the way his eyes widen as I grab him, I’d say he wasn’t expecting me to do that. No, he wasn’t. This is the kind of guy who’s used to having everything he wants at a drop of a hat.

  “I know you,” he says, looking at me with a disgusted expression on his face. “Blake,” he continues, my name leaving his mouth like a curse.

  “Well, I know you too,” I find myself saying, suddenly recognizing his smug face. This guy is the owner of some bullshit gallery where I once held an exposition. I remember the arrogant prick and the way he looked at my paintings.

  “So you’re the one fucking her, aren’t you?” he asks me, his eyes never leaving mine.

  I react without thinking. I close the distance between us, grab him by the collar of his shirt, and push him back against the wall.

  “Listen here, you fuckin’ asshole,” I growl, trying to resist the urge to introduce him to my fist. “I don’t give two shits about you, got that? But you’ll respect her ,” I continue, slightly nodding toward Katherine.

  She’s standing by the doorway, looking at us both with an expression that tells me she has no idea on what to say or do.

  “You can’t—”

  I don’t even let him finish his sentence. I tighten my grip on his shirt and lean toward him.

  “I know how little shits like you enjoy treating women,” I tell him, making sure I take my time with each and every word. “But you’ve heard the lady—leave and never come back.”

  He stops for a moment, almost as if he’s trying to process the meaning behind my words, and then he finally lowers his gaze.

  Submission.

  I finally let go of his shirt and take a step back, although my gaze never leaves him. I don’t know why, but coming here and finding a man (and one like this fuckin’ asshole) inside Katherine’s apartment has my blood boiling. Besides, it doesn’t help that I overheard most of their argument.

  “Well, I guess you finally got your knight in shining armor, haven’t you?” he says, looking over my shoulder at Katherine, his beady eyes glinting wit
h malice. “Just so you know, you’re probably just the flavor of the month for this guy. If you think I’m bad, you’re in for a surprise with him.”

  That does it for me.

  I can hear Katherine saying something, but I can’t even register her words. Flavor of the month ? Who does this asshole think he is?

  Taking one step toward him, I ball my right hand into a fist. I cock my arm back, and everything around me starts moving slowly. I can see it happening before it happens—my fingers meeting his nose and that asshole tumbling back as he clutches his bloody nose.

  That’ll probably cost me, since he’s well connected in the gallery business. But fuck it.

  “No!” I hear Katherine say, and I feel her delicate hands grabbing me by the arm. I stop the moment I hear her voice, my fist just a fraction of a second from breaking Dale’s nose.

  “Saved by the bell,” I whisper at him, and this time there’s no smart comeback. His beady eyes can’t hide the fear he’s feeling (and he should be afraid of me), and so he just turns on his heels and disappears from sight as fast as he possibly can without running.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Katherine the moment Dale leaves, turning around to meet her. My eyes meet her velvety lips at once, and my heart picks up the pace faster than I can take in her beauty. Fuck, I just want to grab her by the waist, pin her against the wall, and kiss her.

  “I am now,” she breathes out softly, and that makes me relax. “What are you doing here, Blake?”

  “I came to give you something,” I reply, suddenly realizing that I’m not sure about what I’m doing.

  I never chased someone like this. And I’m not just talking about the fact that I want Katherine; I’m saying that I never went after anyone because my art demanded it.

  But that has changed.

  Because everything in me calls for her. I need to kiss her, to hold her close against me…

  And, more than that, I need to paint her.

  Katherine

  I step to the side, allowing Blake in. I close the door behind us.

  Just moments ago, it was Dale in here, and now it’s just Blake and I. Honestly, I have no idea what kind of game the universe is playing with me, but I really can’t complain about this turn of events.