by Brit M.
She knew her friend was grinning, had to be. “A mark, all right? A really big one that I can't go flashing at my students and my auditor.”
“Yes, dear, I do have one,” Lita said. “I can meet you at the campus garage in fifteen. Sound reasonable?”
“I'm wearing a blue shirt,” Marissa said. “Will it match?”
“It's grey and shiny, so yes. See you soon,” she said.
Marissa hung up feeling relieved and touched the mark again, leaning into the mirror. There were the faintest imprints of teeth in a darker color among the purplish rest of the mark. She laid her forehead against the cool mirror to combat the wave of heat that rushed through her at the thought. It was kinky; so what? She really liked it. Next time he just had to bite somewhere else, where no one would see it—of course, somewhere she still could. She pressed it again, shivering at the throb of pleasure-pain, and dragged herself away from the bathroom to leave. Lita would be waiting.
The drive was short and uneventful. Lita's car was in the teacher lot, but she wasn't really parked so much as sitting in it. She got out when Marissa pulled in next to her. Her eyebrows went up at the sight of the mark, which Marissa covered self-consciously.
“Wow,” Lita said. “Didn't that hurt?”
“Well,” she said, ducking her head as her face warmed. Damned blushing. “Yes, but that doesn't mean I didn't like it, okay?”
Lita whistled and handed over the silver scarf. Marissa knotted it jauntily at her throat like a necklace that was also a spill of cloth. It hid the bruise.
“So, spill. How and where? I got your message that you were on a date.”
“Those guys from the Internet,” Marissa said. She leaned against her car. “They're—fantastic. We met for a dinner date to see if we liked each other, which we really did. I'm going to spend the weekend with them.”
She thought her friend's jaw would drop.
“What?” Marissa said.
“You skipped from discovering gay porn to a double-date with two dudes?”
“So?”
“Nothing. I'm just proud of you,” Lita said with a laugh and shook her head. “I don't mean to sound so surprised, but I've been wanting you to come out of your shell and be happy for years. If these two hunks of love can do that for you, go on and fuck them ‘til you can't walk.”
“Lita!” she hissed, looking around them. There was no one else to hear.
“Just be careful,” she said seriously. “I know they were nice on the date, but if you need help this weekend, don't hesitate to call me. Or 911.”
“Jesus,” Marissa said, blinking. “They're not like that!”
“I'm just telling you to be careful. Internet dating has its wonders, but it can be dangerous,” Lita said. “That's my soapbox and I'm sticking to it.”
“Well, I know that.”
“But I want you to do it and have a good time.” Lita hugged her, smiling. “I think you'll be way happier if you really figure out who you are, you know, sexually. Everybody needs to know that about themselves.”
“Thank you,” Marissa said with a roll of her eyes. “You're trying to play therapist with me, aren't you?”
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “Now go to work, and call me sometime this week. We'll catch dinner together.”
“Sure,” Marissa said. “Thanks for the rescue.”
Lita patted the scarf, winked, and climbed back in her car. Marissa set off for the classroom, bag over her shoulder and hickey hidden safely away. She was still so very aware of it on her skin, the mark and its implication. Her friend was right. She needed to know these things about herself, embrace them, and learn from them. It was all part of getting a real life in order: first came the job, now came the self and all the maintenance that implied. Lita really was an excellent therapist.
In the classroom, only cute Evan with his bagel and the auditor were there. She put her things down, back straight, and was surprised at how empowered she felt by her awareness of the bruise on her throat and what she had spent the weekend doing. She had expected to feel nervous, as if everyone could see written all over her what she was up to, or that it should shame her.
Instead, she felt like she had a wonderful, delicious secret.
She smiled at the auditor, and he smiled back, seemingly surprised.
“I forgot a drink,” she said. “Would you mind watching my things for a moment?”
“Not a problem,” he said with a nod to the door. “Better hurry. I'll mark you tardy if you're late.”
She had to grin, because he'd said it with a twist of his lips into a smirk and a bit of a flirtatious tone. Perhaps she wasn't the only one with a healthy appreciation for her coworkers.
* * * *
The scarf had begun to itch by the end of the day, but Marissa stuck it through until the end. It was a relief to yank it off in the car and toss it in the passenger seat with her messenger bag full of papers, though. They still needed to be graded; she didn't want to take more than a week to give them back to her students but she'd lost her weekend time to the lusty haze of her date with Adrian and Paul. Juggling a career and a romantic life was probably going to be as difficult or worse than managing both while struggling for her degree.
So, instead of going home, she drove to the local coffee shop. At home, she knew she would give in to the urge to get on her laptop and respond to the e-mail from Saturday night that she'd kept reopening and looking at. Getting drawn into another erotic discussion with her paramours wouldn't be conducive to getting any work done.
The café served coffee, tea, and all sorts of pastries and small sandwiches. She walked in with her bag over her shoulder and the scarf looped lazily around her neck. She was glad to see there were empty tables and she wouldn't have to ask to share someone else's. It happened sometimes, and she always felt like an intruder or a distraction, whether or not it was true. The boy behind the counter took her order for a ham sandwich, a pastry, and a mug of chai. The drink was a little sweet for the dinner, but she hadn't had chai for a while, and it sounded delicious.
She picked a table by the wide glass windows that overlooked the street. The tiny lot behind the café had a free space for her car, so she hadn't had to parallel park for once, but it was still nice to have a view outside. That was the great thing about living in the radius of the university—coffee shops, cheap apartments, and a short commute anywhere. Home was never far away. She took the sheaf of papers out of her bag and shuffled through them, sifting them into an arcane order mostly determined by size. The students who'd written over the minimum would come first; they usually had something interesting to say, since they'd done extra work. The short ones, where the students just hadn't bothered to do the whole assignment, would go to the bottom, mostly because they irritated her.
Marissa has just finished sorting the papers how she wanted them when the barista who'd taken her order appeared at her table with her drink and sandwich. He had a winsome smile and she thought she might have seen him around campus. His hair was almost peach-orange, a light and probably dyed color. His eyes were hazel.
“You're a prof, right?” he asked.
“As of this year,” she replied, smiling.
“I thought I'd seen you,” he said.
He stuck his hands in the pockets of his apron and cast her a shy grin, lashes lowered a bit. It was cute. The moment warmed between them as she returned the gaze and waited for him to continue, distracted from her meal already.
“I'm a grad student,” he said. “Mathematics, to be general. Could I ask you to a cup of coffee one day?”
“Oh,” she said, her smile widening. Well, wasn't that nice? He wasn't much younger than her, so it was all right. “Yes, sure. Come by my office, I'll get a drink with you. My name's Marissa Ford.”
He grinned. “Arthur Miles. Pleasure to actually say hi to you instead of just noticing you across the way.”
His candor startled a laugh from her and he chuckled as well. It made her wonder:
had her growing confidence begun to show somehow? It wasn't like people had never approached her before, when she was a student entrenched in her work—Jeff, for one, had asked her out. Between this young man's flirting and the auditor's subtle interest, not to mention Paul and Adrian, she felt strangely visible and desirable.
“Thanks,” she said. “I'll see you?”
“You definitely will,” he said. “And I'll bring that pastry out in a second. You missed the last one, so we have more in the oven. Is that all right?”
“Of course,” Marissa said.
They matched another pair of goofy, pleased smiles and Arthur returned to his place behind the counter as a new gaggle of people came in, all in their late thirties by looks, surely from a business nearby. Marissa turned her eyes to her papers and began to read and mark with red pen as she nibbled her sandwich.
The meet-for-drinks, maybe-not-a-date with the young and approachable Arthur made her feel lovely, but it was small consolation for the fact that after the weekend passed, she would have to give up the two-men thing, probably for good. After all, there weren't many bisexual guys who wanted to be part of a permanent threesome. She'd never heard of one, at least, and that was a bit of a damper on her mood.
Still, plenty of people had kinks and fantasies that they didn't act out but once in their lifetimes, she was sure. This could be her one wild, let-loose time. It would have to be enough. She cast a glance at the peach-haired Arthur, who was making a drink for one of the business crowd, and tried to feel a spark of lust or something other than friendly flattery. In her mind's eye, she just saw Paul and Adrian, their lips locked in a passionate kiss.
That was what gave her a thrill.
She sighed, fighting a wave of morose disappointment, and returned to her papers. The motto was supposed to be enjoy it while it lasted, not mourn it before it even happened, let alone ended. Lita would tell her to live for the moment. Hell, she would tell herself to, so why was it so hard to do?
* * * *
After trading steamy e-mails and watching the bruise fade in the mirror every morning—she'd bought extra scarves at a cheap local market to make it less obvious she was hiding something—Marissa found herself with nothing to do on Thursday night. Adrian had sent her a few e-mails over the week and so had Paul, just to chat and make sure things were still on. But there wasn't one waiting this evening, and she wasn't due to call them until the next morning to figure out where they would meet up on Friday night to spend their weekend. She was comfortable with their home if they wanted, but they didn't want to pressure her and had offered a hotel suite.
Honestly, she didn't know. It was already hard to separate the emotions she kept finding herself having toward them from the desire to be with them for a brief snip of her life, just a few days. Being in their home, among their things, and fucking in their bed did seem a little problematic. And it might make things harder for them to be alone when all was said and done.
She'd been reading up on threesomes, and they seemed perilous for the couples involved if things weren't just right. She found herself adoring Adrian and Paul. Messing up their relationship was the last thing she wanted. So perhaps the hotel was the best choice. Less pressure all around, more anonymous. The decision weighed on her.
Finally, after spending fifteen minutes drumming her fingers on her coffee table filled with indecision and waiting on an e-mail that hadn't come, she took out her phone and dialed her friend. She'd promised Lita a girls’ night to hang out, after all.
The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer. She left a message, frowning. It wasn't that Lita was inconsiderate, but sometimes she seemed to be very busy with her own life and only able to make room for Marissa when it was convenient—yet seemed to expect Marissa to move her own schedule to match Lita's. Maybe she was feeling uncharitable because she was lonely and bored. Either way, there wasn't much to do.
She hesitated over the address book in her phone. “Nana” blinked under the cursor. She hadn't called for a few weeks. Her grandmother had been kind enough to raise her when her parents split and decided they didn't want to be in the same state anymore, and she hadn't wanted to leave her elementary school and all her friends. She hadn't spoken to her father since, and her mother was a call-twice-a-year situation. They were young parents, sure, but Marissa had never found it in herself to forgive them.
Another moment passed and she closed the phone. She owed her grandmother a call, but what would she tell her? I'm going to go on a sex-romp with a male couple this weekend, wish me luck? She snorted a laugh and put her phone back in her pocket. No, definitely not. It was hard enough including Nana in her everyday life when she was at school with steady normal boyfriends. Having to explain semi-casual dating was a nightmare. This would be a fight of epic proportions complete with a lecture about female humility and responsibility and chastity, she was sure.
Without Lita, and without family to call, Marissa was bereft. It would be weird to call Paul and Adrian. They weren't her boyfriends or even really her friends, though she hoped they might not cease all contact with her after the weekend. She was afraid they might, if it made things easier for themselves—but she liked them as people, and hoped they kept in touch.
“Goddamn,” she whispered.
She thought back to the peach-haired grad student who'd asked her to coffee and that was a minor comfort. She'd make more friends, she knew. It would take a little time, though. A drink here, a movie there, a discussion about a book slipped in, and you had a friend to hang out with. Maybe a few co-workers would want to do things sometimes. She kept reminding herself she wasn't so overworked and always busy now that her debts were paid and her degree was in hand, her old job quit.
For the night, she was just lonely. She turned on the television, found the news, and settled in to watch it. Her mind was still circling the issue of hotel-or-home for the weekend, and the rest of her was focused on wallowing in her lack of companionship. It wasn't a particularly enjoyable evening.
She went to bed early, still stressed, and never did decide what her answer would be to Paul's or Adrian's call in the morning. Either way, she would be with them, and it would be good. That was enough.
Chapter Six
“It's really your decision,” she said into the phone, balancing it on her shoulder as she walked through the hall of her building to the classroom she was due in. “Your house, your choice.”
“Shy-girl,” Adrian groaned. It had become his nickname for her at some point, and hearing it made her flush with pleasure and amusement. That on its own was worrisome.
“I'm serious!” she protested. “I don't mind either way. I don't think you're going to lure me out and murder me or something crazy like that. It's just that it's your house, so it shouldn't be up to me.”
“All right, all right,” Adrian said. “Hang on.”
She heard him calling for Paul and a brief, off-line chatter of conversation. She waited, walking into her room and dropping her bag on the desk. No one was there yet; she was early. The chair squeaked on the tile floor as she pulled it out and sat, legs crossed. Her light tan slacks were a bit hot and her blouse was sticking to her skin with a faint dew of sweat. The weather had spiked a good ten degrees. Fall was crisp in some years and sweltering in others. This time around, the sun seemed low and heavy in the sky, determined to overheat everything.
“Okay,” Adrian said. Marissa leaned forward, elbows braced on the desk and her heart in her throat. This was the moment of decision. “Paul's up for a hotel room for comfort's sake, and I'm fine with either, and so are you. So I guess a hotel it is.”
“And I'm meeting you tonight, right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Dinner to relax first, then back to the hotel. Paul's on his cell making reservations now. I was thinking a light supper, maybe Asian food somewhere?”
“That's fine,” she said. “There's a good Japanese place by the campus. Do you know which one I'm talking about?”
&
nbsp; “Tiny hole–in-the-wall with a sake bar?” he asked. “Next door to a bookshop?”
“You got it,” she said with a smile that he couldn't see.
“We'll see you there tonight around five?” he asked.
“It's a date,” she said, and this time the warmth of her smile snuck into her words. “I've got a little suitcase and I'm ready.”
“Good,” Adrian said. His voice dropped into a purr. “I've been thinking all week about getting you between us, making you come undone.”
“Oh,” she gasped weakly, eyes darting around the empty room.
“You're at work, aren't you?” he asked with a hint of a laugh.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Well, just be glad I didn't get more descriptive. I bet you'd turn bright red if I started telling you how much I've thought about burying my face between your legs and licking you until you want to scream.”
“Oh my God,” she said, squeaking.
He really did laugh, then. “I'm sorry. I'm too awful, I know, I know. Paul's telling me to stop being an ass.”
“Tell him thank you,” she said.
“Tell him yourself.”
A moment later Paul's voice came over the line. “Is he teasing you too much?”
“It's fine,” she said. “Just—different. He's so free with what he says.”
“It's because he knows you like it,” Paul said. “He's merciless at pushing buttons once he knows which ones are right.”
She shook her head. The auditor walked in and she straightened up, tongue suddenly feeling tangled. He cast her a smile and settled into his usual desk.
“How do you feel about all this?” she asked Paul, trying not to give too much away on her end of the conversation with a listener in the room.
“I'm having a ball watching him flirt and you, I'm sure, blush,” he said. “I can't wait, to be honest. He's not the only one who wants to touch you.”
“You'll give me an ego,” she said, almost whispering.
“You deserve it,” Paul said, low and sultry. “But I'll let you get to work. We'll see you tonight, Marissa.”
