Trio

by P. F. Kozak

  Butch pulled his fingers out, and then propped himself against the back of the couch. “Turn around, Pepper, and sit on my lap.”

  Ted helped Pepper swivel around. “That’s it, love. Put a knee on each side of his beefy thighs.”

  “Ever consider directing porn movies? You’d be good at it.”

  “I’ll remember you said that when I tape you and Pepper doing it.”

  Pepper snapped, “If one of you doesn’t fuck me soon, I’m going to fuck myself.”

  Butch lewdly shook his dick in front of her. “Here it is, mama. You want it, come and get it.”

  Pepper didn’t care about Butch’s rudeness. She wanted his prick inside of her. “Ted, are you ready?”

  “I’m ready, Pepper. Mount the son of a bitch.”

  Pepper grabbed Butch’s prick and held it up. Then she lifted herself up and slowly lowered herself back down. Butch’s erection filled her cunt.

  Butch grimaced. “Jesus, that’s good. Ted, fuck her ass.”

  “I’m on it.” Ted pushed Pepper forward, and her tits rubbed against Butch’s chin. She felt Ted pulling her ass cheeks apart. When he pushed the head of his cock into her anus, she raised up. Pepper came back down on Butch’s prick just as Ted lunged forward.

  She had never felt anything like this. Both men were inside her. She thought her belly would explode, it felt so full. But at the same time, it felt good, even wonderful. Ted leaned over and licked her neck. Butch fondled her tits. She had never been so gloriously happy in her life. The two men she loved wanted her as much as she wanted them.

  Ted slowly pulled out and pushed himself back in. “Pepper, is that all right?”

  She nodded yes, unable to speak. Then she heard Butch. “Sweetheart, move with Ted. Lift up when he pulls out, and come back down when he pushes in.”

  Pepper managed to say, “Okay.”

  It took a couple of tries to get the rhythm, but once they had it they moved together. Like a finely tuned clock, Butch thrust upward as Pepper came down as Ted pushed in. Then they reversed the movement and did it again. For several minutes they did this erotic dance, moving together, and feeling together.

  Pepper’s climax took her by surprise. She gasped for air and went rigid, trapping both men inside her. She bore down on Butch, while Ted managed to continue thrusting. Suddenly Butch yelled, “Jesus Christ!” and raised his hips off the bed, taking Pepper with him. With one final thrust, Ted also cut loose.

  The three lovers had consummated their union.

  9

  P epper saw Butch getting out of his truck. After pulling into the driveway behind him, she opened her window and yelled, “Did Ted call you, too?”

  “A few minutes ago. Told me to get home pronto. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “No. He called me at the bar and said the same thing. It sounded important.” Pepper jumped out of the car and caught up with Butch. “I hope nothing’s wrong.”

  “Me, too.” They ran up the back stairs and into the kitchen. There was no sign of Ted. Butch shouted, “Hey, Rembrandt, where the hell are you? Is everything all right?”

  They heard his voice from the direction of his studio. “Everything’s fine. I’ll be right there.”

  When Ted came in, they could see he had been working. He had paint on his hands, and a big smudge on his flushed face. He was also breathless. “You two got here fast. I thought I had a few more minutes.”

  Pepper grabbed the dishcloth. “You sounded like the roof caved in. Of course we got here fast.” She rubbed the smear of paint on his cheek. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I finished it.”

  “What?”

  “The painting of you and Butch! I finished it.”

  Butch got a glass of water and handed it to Ted. “Here, drink this. You’re red as a beet. Don’t want you to pass out on us.”

  “Thanks.” Ted sat down and drank the water.

  Pepper knelt beside the chair. “It’s wonderful that it’s finished, but for heaven’s sake, couldn’t that have waited until we got home from work?”

  “There’s more.”

  Butch couldn’t contain his impatience. “For Christ’s sake, Ted, what the fuck is going on?”

  “I got a call today, from the Carnegie Museum in Pittsburgh. They want me to exhibit some of my stuff in a contemporary American exhibit they’re doing.” Ted stopped talking, unable to continue.

  Pepper took the now-empty glass. “Butch, get him some more water. Put some ice in it.”

  Butch quickly refilled the glass and gave it back to Pepper. “Ted, sip this and breathe slowly. You’re going to hyperventilate.”

  Ted took a minute to compose himself. “I’m sorry. This is just so fucking unbelievable.”

  Butch grabbed a chair and put it beside Ted’s, straddling it to sit down. “What’s so unbelievable? You’re a good artist. You deserve to be in an exhibit.”

  Ted put the cold glass against his forehead. “Pepper, remember what I told you about how much I love Andrew Wyeth and Edward Hopper?”

  “Sure I do.”

  “Well, their paintings will be in the exhibit. So will paintings by N. C. Wyeth and Thomas Eakins, and a bunch of others. My pictures will be in a section for new artists called ‘American Realism—Continuing The Line.’”

  Pepper clapped her hands. “Ted, this is incredible!”

  “It’s fucking unbelievable.”

  Butch laughed. “Yeah, you said that already.”

  Ted shook his head in wonderment. “My paintings will be hanging in the same gallery with Wyeth’s and Hopper’s. I can’t believe it!”

  Something occurred to Pepper. “Do you know if the museum sent a couple of guys to the bar a few weeks ago to see your stuff?”

  “The person I talked to sounded like he’d seen my work. It makes sense that they saw it at the bar.”

  “I remember two guys in business suits came in and asked to see Theodore Duncan’s work. I told them to look around, that you’d painted every picture in the room. They looked at all of them.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because they didn’t ask to buy one. Lots of people come in to look at your pictures. I remember these guys because I’d never seen them before.”

  “How the hell did they know about you in Pittsburgh?” Butch eyed Pepper.

  “Don’t look at me! I didn’t tell anyone.” Pepper shot the question back at Ted. “How did they know about you?”

  “You’re gonna love this part. The museum asked some professors at Carnegie Mellon if they knew any local artists with a style like Wyeth’s. John teaches there now. He told them about my work, and how to find me. The guy on the phone told me the museum decided my paintings will fit in.”

  Butch reacted first to the mention of John’s name. “Well, that’s a fucking bolt from the blue.”

  “That’s the damn truth.” John’s part in this made Pepper uncomfortable. “Have you been in touch with John?”

  “Not a word. The people from the museum told me about John’s referral.”

  Butch picked up on Pepper’s concern. “Do you want to see him again on account of this?”

  “Jesus Christ, no! That’s the last thing I want.”

  Pepper’s voice cracked a bit when she asked, “Are you sure?”

  Ted took her hand and squeezed it. “Pepper, the last four months with you two have been the happiest of my life. I have what I want right here in my own backyard.”

  Butch patted him on the back. “Thank you, Dorothy.”

  Ted smiled. “Better watch that. You’re starting to sound gay.”

  “That’s what happens when you take it up the ass as often as I have.”

  “Now, now. Be nice.” Pepper stood up. “I want to see the painting.”

  “Before you do, there’s one more thing. They have to decide what to show. So, they asked me for photographs of my stuff, including my most current work. Since this painting is the only thing I’ve done
in the last four months, I want to send them a picture of it.”

  “What the fuck for?” Butch stood up beside Pepper. “You said that painting would go in Pepper’s room, over the bed.”

  “That painting will stay in this house, just like I said. But I want them to see it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

  Pepper slipped her arm through Butch’s. “What if they want to show it?”

  Ted’s fingers fluttered over his glass like a flutist’s. “Yeah, what if?”

  “Rembrandt, I don’t want my bare ass hanging in a gallery in Pittsburgh.”

  Ted caught Pepper’s eye. She could see his conflict, as much as she could feel her own. “I want to see it, Ted. I can’t say yes or no until I do.”

  “Yeah, okay. C’mon, then.”

  Ted put his glass on the table. Butch and Pepper followed him into his studio. Whenever they posed, Ted always turned the easel so they couldn’t see it. He asked them not to look at the painting until he had finished it. Both Butch and Pepper had honored his request.

  The canvas sat on the easel, still turned so they couldn’t see it. Ted walked around to his spot in front of the painting. Butch and Pepper waited by the sofa, wanting to be sure they had Ted’s blessing.

  Much to their surprise, Ted headed back to the door. “Take your time and look it over. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He left them alone.

  Butch stared at the door for a moment. “I think Rembrandt is about to puke.”

  Pepper thought so, too. “He didn’t look too good, did he?”

  “Fucking artists!”

  Pepper held Butch’s hand. “Are you as nervous about seeing it as I am?”

  “I don’t know about nervous, but I’m sure as hell not choked up about anyone besides us seeing it.”

  “Me, neither. That’s why I’m nervous.”

  Butch went toward the easel, pulling Pepper along behind him. “Let’s see what he did.”

  Pepper closed her eyes. “Oh, God! I can’t look. How embarrassing is it?”

  Butch didn’t say anything. Pepper opened her eyes. Butch stood silently staring at the picture. She turned to see it for herself, and her breath caught.

  The tempera painting reminded Pepper of the pictures in Ted’s Andrew Wyeth book. The skin and hair almost looked like a photograph, they seemed so real. Pepper looked at her arm and then at the picture. It perfectly matched her freckled fair skin and copper colored hair, as it did Butch’s olive skin and his disheveled black hair.

  But that’s not what left Pepper speechless. Even with their naked bodies intertwined, Butch and Pepper’s faces held the focus of the painting.

  Butch had his hand on her breast and his leg over her stomach. Ted managed to capture the sense of movement as Butch rolled on top of her. Butch’s leg covered her pelvis, with only a bit of entangled pubic hair visible, her rusty brown with his jet black. Their genitals were hidden from view.

  What she couldn’t pull her eyes away from was how Butch looked at her. The expression on his face mingled tenderness with passion, love with lust, and joy with pain. She had her arms wrapped around his shoulders, accepting him with absolute adoration. Between them, she could feel their history, the grief of their separation, and the gift of their reunion.

  Pepper glanced at Butch. He seemed as entranced by the feeling of it as she. Not wanting to sway his opinion with hers, she asked, “What do you think?”

  Butch ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Neither have I.” Pepper pointed to Ted’s signature. “Look.” In tiny letters in the corner, in perfect calligraphy Ted wrote his name, Theodore Duncan.

  “How long do you suppose it took him to write it like that?”

  “Don’t know. But I’ve never seen his name like that on any other painting, have you?”

  “Nope.” Butch asked the question she didn’t know how to answer. “What do you think of it?”

  She closed her eyes and tried to focus, not knowing how to make the words come out right. “That’s us.”

  “No kidding!”

  “I don’t know how to say it. If it weren’t us, I’d say it’s the most beautiful painting of lovers I’d ever seen.”

  “But?”

  “But fuck, Butch, it’s us! I mean, anyone who knows us and sees this painting will know it’s us.”

  “And they’ll also know you’re in love.” Ted stood in the doorway, now looking quite pale. He suddenly leaned against the doorframe, as though he might go down.

  “Rembrandt, you’d better sit. You look like shit.” Butch went over to help him.

  “I just lost my breakfast.”

  “Figured as much.” Butch led him to the couch. “Christ, I’ve never seen you so fucked up. You need to get a grip.”

  Pepper put a pillow behind Ted’s head and then sat down next to him. “Butch, grab the waste can in case he gets sick again.” She rubbed Ted’s stomach in a circular motion. “How do you feel?”

  “Gross.”

  Butch put the can next to Ted, and then sat on the arm of the couch. “That’s some picture you made.”

  Ted tried to turn his head to look at Butch, and immediately stopped. “I’m going to toss.”

  Pepper grabbed the garbage can just as Ted leaned forward. She held it for him as he vomited again.

  “Butch, run and get him a can of ginger ale. And bring a towel.”

  Ted retched into the can for a couple of minutes before he settled down. When Butch came back, he brought the soda, some paper towels, and a wet dish towel. He handed Pepper the paper towels and ginger ale, then folded the towel and put it on Ted’s forehead. “How is he?”

  Pepper wiped Ted’s face, and then popped the top on the soda can. She handed it to Ted. “He’s all right. He just needs to calm down.”

  “Says you!” Ted sipped the soda. “This is the most incredible day of my life. I have a right to be a wreck!”

  Butch laughed. “He’s coming around.”

  Ted again turned his head toward Butch. This time, he managed it. “What did you think of it?”

  “Of what?”

  “Don’t fuck with me, paisan. Do you like it?”

  Butch looked at Pepper. “Ladies first.”

  “Pepper? C’mon, somebody say something. This is killing me.”

  “Ted, it’s beautiful.” Pepper looked down at her hands before she finished her thought. “But everyone will know it’s us.”

  “Pepper, I’m not going to hang it in the bar. It belongs in this house. All I want is to let the museum show it for a while, if it makes the cut.”

  “I say let him do it.”

  Both Ted and Pepper stared at Butch. Pepper was incredulous. “What did you say?” He might as well have said he wanted to study ballet.

  “I said we should let him do it. It’s the most beautiful painting I’ve ever seen. How can we say no?”

  “Because people know me in Pittsburgh! What if someone recognizes me?”

  “What if they do? And honestly, Pepper, did you hang out with people who go to museums?”

  “How the hell would I know if they go to museums?” Pepper knew she sounded shrill. She couldn’t help it. “That’s you and me fucking, Butch. Doesn’t it bother you if people see it?”

  “Before Ted showed it to us, I would’ve said yes. But now…” Butch stood and went back to look at the painting. “This sounds weird, but it kinda looks like it should be in a church or something. It makes me feel good inside, like going to church used to.”

  “Hey, man, you never heard anyone say, ‘God is love?’”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard it. This is the first time I’ve seen it.”

  Pepper came over beside Butch. “If I could stop thinking about it being me, I’d agree with you. I thought it would be hot, and it is. But it’s holy, too, like the statue of David.”

  Ted grinned. “I told you, Michelangelo used Italian men as models.”

&nbs
p; Pepper studied Butch’s body in the painting. “You’re so beautiful in it.”

  “So are you.” Butch turned Pepper to face him. “Maybe we should forget that it’s us and let everyone see how good Rembrandt is.”

  Ted chimed in with, “Listen to him, Pepper. For once in his life, he’s making sense.”

  Without taking his eyes off Pepper, Butch retorted, “Rembrandt, I’d watch my step if I were you. I’m on your side.”

  Ted muttered, “Who would’ve thought?”

  Butch brushed Pepper’s hair back. “Whaddya say, Pearl? Do we cut Theodore some slack?”

  Pepper kicked him. “Don’t call me Pearl!”

  “For God’s sake, Butch, don’t piss her off!” Ted got up. He came over and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Pepper, remember what you said after I showed you Wyeth’s pictures of Helga, about how they made you feel?”

  “I remember.”

  Butch looked over Pepper’s shoulder at Ted. “What did she say?”

  “She said she got a feeling from them, like the man who drew them loved Helga.” Ted hugged her tightly against him. “What do you see when you look at my picture of you and Butch?”

  Pepper turned her head and again looked at the easel. “The same feeling, except it’s for both of us.”

  “You got it, darlin’. That’s exactly what I’d hoped you’d see. There is love in that picture, not just of two, but of three.”

  Pepper couldn’t deny what Ted said. He had somehow captured the love they shared, and she couldn’t refuse someone she loved. “All right, you win. If the museum wants to show it, I won’t pitch a fit.”

  “I knew you’d come around.” He hugged her again and kissed the top of her head. “Oh, and by the way, you just got a promotion.”

  Pepper turned around. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve helped me out so much at the bar lately, I’m promoting you to manager.”

  “You’re what?” Again, Pepper was incredulous.

  “I need more time for this.” Ted made a sweeping motion with his arm, taking in the whole studio. “Along with keeping the books, you’ve been doing my work at the bar. I haven’t done payroll, ordering, or scheduling in weeks, trying to finish this painting.”