My Guys

by Tanya Chris

  “So I see. Sure. She’s usually good for more that way even when she can’t take any more this way.”

  “I can’t take any more,” I mumbled, my clit still throbbing from my last climax.

  “Yeah, right,” Nate said

  Derek laughed against my ear. “One more, baby.”

  “Nicely,” I pleaded. “Do me nicely.”

  “Nice it is.” Nate went slowly this time, using his fingers inside me to create a delicious contrast—the sharp sweetness of his mouth sucking gently on my clit and the churning, all-body throbbing of his fingers stroking my G-spot. I lay as still as I could, letting him work, the pressure of Derek’s body helping mine feel anchored beneath the dreamy double onslaught.

  As I began moaning helplessly, Derek’s mouth pressed against mine. He swallowed my moans, holding the pleasure between us. A current of electricity ran from Nate to me to Derek, and when I came it completed the circuit. My fingertips buzzed from the full-body shock of sweetness that swept through me, pitching me up into a star-filled sky and wafting me back down to a tent that glowed with lamplight and love.

  Nate moved so he lay next to me and Derek shifted to give him some room. They leaned across me, watching my chest rise and fall as they talked, their arms draped across my abdomen together.

  “Is she OK?” Derek asked.

  “She will be.”

  “I’ve never done this, made her like that.”

  “You do something different. It’s all good. Right, Lissie?”

  “Fuck me,” I said as the dreaminess wore off and the longing for pure, raw passion returned. I needed the last bit of horniness banged out of me.

  “Fuck her,” Nate said. He picked up the condom I’d dropped earlier and passed it to Derek.

  “It’s our last one.”

  “Use it.” He guided my unresisting hand to his cock. I felt the heat and sensuously slippery foreskin against my palm and started stroking in a rhythm that needed no thought.

  Somewhere above me, Derek put on a condom. I heard foil rattling, then felt his legs separate mine. He pressed inside me, lying against my body to maximize our contact, his hands on my arms as I continued to massage Nate nestled next to us.

  Derek moved slowly until the heat took hold of us all, then slowness was forgotten.

  When my thoughts grew coherent again, Derek was shuddering and Nate’s come was splashed across my face. He traced through it with a fingertip and slid the finger into my mouth. I sucked on it sleepily, then rolled my head towards Derek. He kissed me, his tongue swirling gently inside my come-flavored mouth. Slowly he drew back, lips lingering against mine, a smile playing about them.

  “We’d better get to sleep if we’re going to be any use tomorrow,” he said.

  “You think we’ll be able to climb?” Nate asked. He turned off the lantern.

  “You never know.” Derek rolled over, pulling the sleeping bag over himself. “We might as well be ready. Besides, I’m exhausted.”

  “Me too.” I spooned against Derek’s back. “And anyway, we’re out of condoms.”

  As I drifted off to sleep, my arm across Derek’s stomach and Nate’s groin tucked snugly against my ass, I heard Nate whisper in my ear, “Next time, bring more.”

  Chapter 28

  “Sounds awkward,” Derek said, deflecting Nate once again.

  “No, listen, we’d just be roommates, like any other roommates.”

  I eavesdropped on them from the back seat, drowsy from a good day of climbing and what had been an eventful night. I leaned against the side of the car using somebody’s sleeping bag as a pillow and somebody else’s sleeping bag as a blanket, relaxed and content. My guys had gotten along well all day and although they were bantering back and forth now, Derek was driving home with us instead of with Conrad and Leon.

  “I don’t want to live in the middle of an orgy,” he said.

  “Of course not. I mean, not as a regular thing. Maybe once in a while.”

  I opened my eyes and snuck a peek at Derek’s face but didn’t learn anything from it.

  “You’d have your room and I’d have mine,” Nate continued. “Sex stays in the bedrooms and everyone sleeps in their own bed. That’s a definite.”

  Nate had experienced first-hand the reality of sleeping with Derek when the three of us woke up on the same side of the tent. This time it was Nate with his face embedded in the nylon mesh while I enjoyed a naked flesh sandwich—a sweaty naked flesh sandwich.

  “You’re lucky we were in a tent,” I told Nate. “It’s worse in a bed.”

  “How’s it worse in a bed?”

  “You can fall out. Sometimes I get out of the bed, walk around to the other side, and get back in. It’s like the song about the ten little monkeys.”

  “I don’t want you there all the time when I’m with Lissie,” Derek said, returning to the real subject.

  “There’s always Lissie’s place. I won’t horn in on you on your nights—promise—but if you need more privacy, go to Lissie’s.”

  I wondered where my place would be. Alex and I had an appointment with a realtor on Thursday, immediately following our appointment with a judge on Wednesday.

  “I’m more worried about your nights,” Derek said.

  “I’ll go to Lissie’s. Unless, you know, you feel like doing the threesome thing some night.”

  “On your night, right?”

  “Right.”

  “In your room.”

  “Sure.”

  “Yeah, but if it’s my night and I’m fucking Lissie in my room you’re going to be on the other side of the wall jerking off to it.”

  Nate raised a hand, pleading no contest. I laughed under my breath.

  “What about other women?” Derek asked.

  “Like a foursome?”

  “No! I meant you bringing home women besides Lissie.”

  “So what if I do?”

  “Lissie doesn’t like it.”

  “That’s between me and Lissie. Look, we’re roommates, not relationship police.”

  “Sounds awkward.”

  It did sound like a situation that would require heavy negotiation, but it also sounded convenient, like one-stop shopping. I closed my eyes again, letting Nate and Derek’s conversation lull me closer to sleep. When their talk transitioned to mundane matters like how to divide up the utility bill, I knew that Nate had won. I wasn’t surprised.

  We were nearly home. Derek gave Nate directions to his apartment so we could drop him off and Nate could tour the place. The determination with which Nate was campaigning to move into an apartment he’d never even seen told me more about his future plans than the answers he’d given Derek. Nate would wear Derek down until the place became a non-stop naked free-for-all. I couldn’t decide whether the thought made me excited or tired.

  At least I’d have my own place to escape to, wherever that might be. And Nate would bring home other girls for him and Derek, and Derek would learn to enjoy casual sex, but no, Derek wanted Amanda. Derek could bring home Amanda, and he and Nate and Amanda could have a threesome, but, no, Derek wouldn’t like that. I’d bring over Alex, and Alex and Nate and Deb and Amanda could—

  I woke up when the car stopped, shaking free from the confused orgy in my mind. While Derek showed Nate around his apartment, I crashed into the chaise lounge at the end of the sectional sofa where Derek and I snuggled when I came over. The chaise wasn’t wide enough for three people, not even with Nate’s scrawny hips. Someone would have to sit over there if the three of us watched television together, but then who was ever home?

  The night before had been a fantasy—the warmth of two, multiplied by two. Reality went like this: negotiation and coordination, overnight bags missing one sock, slinking home in last night’s clothes, empty rooms whose occupants were out because they were busy driving back and forth—from my place to your place to gym to theater to work. Passing by each other, meeting each other, always asking “how’d it go last night, last week, the oth
er day?” because we weren’t there last night, last week, the other day, because our lives didn’t run parallel; they glanced off each other at right angles.

  Reality was not remembering who you’d told that story to, or what exactly it was about last night, last week, the other day you should be asking about, or asking when it was already too late because it was all yesterday’s news already. Reality was that when the dishwasher broke, it was your problem and no one else’s, and when you cried, you cried alone, because that was the night that was no one’s night.

  “Lissie?” Nate called. “You ready to go?”

  I got up and kissed Derek goodbye, lightly at first, and then not. “Bye, baby,” I said, kissing him over and over. He stood stiffly accepting it in front of Nate until I overwhelmed him and his arms came around me and he kissed me like he had that first time, like he was starving for me.

  “Are you in a big hurry?” I asked Nate.

  He shook his head, although I knew it was late and he worked early.

  “Then let’s see how this would go.” I took Derek’s hand and led him into his bedroom, tugging firmly when he hesitated. I knew we needed this moment for just the two of us.

  When we were finished, I left him there, the sheet brushing his hips, his chest bare, his bangs damp, the way I loved him best. I kissed him one last time, called him baby one last time, turned out the light and closed the door behind me.

  Nate sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He looked up when I stood before him, his face wretched.

  “This isn’t going to happen, is it?”

  “I don’t know. I need to figure some things out.”

  “Sometimes I hate that man.”

  “Derek?”

  “No, Alex.”

  I should have known that Nate would know.

  Chapter 29

  The house was dark when I got home Tuesday night. I’d worked late, with no plans to be anywhere. My muscles needed a rest after a weekend of climbing, and Deb and I were waiting for the final set design before we could begin working on the lights for the next show. I should have been looking forward to a quiet evening, but when I pulled into the driveway and faced the dark windows, my stomach dropped. Tonight was my last night as Mrs. Alex Wells and I’d spend it alone.

  Resigned, I gathered up my pocketbook and briefcase and sack of fast food and went into the house, flipping lights on as I went. So it’s dark when you get home, I thought. You turn on lights and then there’s light. Make your own light, Lissie.

  I read Bree’s Surrender—long neglected—while I ate, not wanting to be alone with my thoughts. I had no trouble picking up the plot. They were nearly at the point of reconciliation, having been separated by cruel fate, a horrible misunderstanding, or some dumbass thing Alec had done—it hardly mattered which. They would naturally, and in approximately sixteen paragraphs, overcome that obstacle and Bree would, yes, surrender herself to the care and love of Alec for the rest of her life and he would, yes, care for her and love her for the rest of his life, and they’d live happily ever after despite not having gotten along for more than two consecutive pages the entire book.

  I threw the book as hard as I could against the wall across from me. It bounced off the wall and back onto the table where it skidded across the surface, colliding with my wine glass and promptly knocking it over. Wine ran across the table and flowed into my lap.

  Well there.

  Come see me in fifteen years, Bree, I thought as I dabbed at my pajamas with a dish rag, when you’re drinking alone and eating food out of a paper bag the night before you and Alec divvy up your shared property and shake hands over a newly-minted divorce decree.

  My phone rang, thank God. Donna.

  “How’re you doing?” she asked.

  “OK.” No use crying over spilled wine.

  “Hey, why don’t we go out? Celebrate. Or mourn. Whichever you’re feeling.”

  “Don’t you have rehearsal?”

  “Not tonight. They’re doing Act I and I don’t even show up until halfway through Act II.”

  I smiled at the exasperation in her voice. Last show, she’d been complaining about being on stage all the time.

  “I don’t know if I feel like going out,” I said. “I’m already in pajamas.” Wet pajamas.

  “For God’s sake, Lissie. It’s seven thirty. You’re the very picture of a depressed divorcee. If I didn’t know you were involved with two hot young things, I’d be worried about you.”

  “I’m ...” I hesitated, not sure what I was.

  “Lissie? Did something happen with Derek or Nate? Or Derek and Nate?”

  I told her what had happened.

  “So,” she said. “Summing up: you had a crazy, hot threesome which, I’m not even going to say how jealous I am about that, and now Nate and Derek are moving in together so the three of you can—”

  “Live happily ever after,” I finished.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow. Only, it’s not, is it?”

  Donna was silent on the other end of the phone. “Ever-after wouldn’t last very long,” she said finally. “Those guys should be getting married, having kids.”

  “So should I. I’m envious of what you’re building with Wayne.”

  “I wouldn’t trade it. But then, I was always envious of what you had with Alex. I guess we can never know.”

  I got Donna off the phone, declining all her offers of company. It was a night to be alone, to be finally alone. When I’d set out to find myself, I’d intended to find out what Melissa was like not with two men, but with none.

  I would meditate on it. I went into to the living room and lit the candles that stood, ornamentally only, on our coffee table. I arranged some pillows nearby and turned out the lights. I lowered myself onto the pillows, working my way into a poor imitation of the position Derek assumed so easily.

  I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing, but what came were thoughts of Derek—his lithe body wound into an upright posture, his face serene. Whatever turmoil might churn inside him, he pushed it away in those moments of meditation, connecting to a touchpoint deep within himself where there was peace.

  Through his practice he had found the quiet strength to face his tormenting demons, had come not merely to accept with forbearance the role I’d thrust on him, but to grow within it. That he could welcome Nate into his home amazed and impressed me. Derek, driven by a fear of not being good enough, faced all other fears head on and vanquished them. He had taught me what it meant to fall trying.

  But as well as he’d adjusted, this was not the life for Derek. He deserved the commitment he was able to provide and the orderly, rules-based existence he craved, though a good hard shake-up now and then would be important too.

  The candles had a light scent of spruce. The aroma tickled my senses, reminding me of Nate, his head on my chest—the sleepy satisfied boy resting after play. It was his sense of fun, his openness and honesty, that had brought us all together.

  Nate had taught me the value of honesty within a relationship, but I wondered what he was hiding from himself that made him want only what he asked for: easy affection, a quick thrill. He made me forget that I wanted something more with his deflective charm, the sharp but temporary focus on me and only me, the confident assurance of his touch claiming transitory ownership.

  If I were going to choose between them ... Well, I had chosen between them, hadn’t I? Because if I’d chosen Derek, Derek would have let me. Life with Nate was only tolerable if there was a Derek to fall back on during those hours and days when the Nate door was shut to me. Life with Nate was only tolerable if the grating edge of unfaithfulness was soothed by soft strokes of devotion. Derek would make some girl very happy. Nate would make most women miserable.

  In the middle, there was Alex—a man who loved me, though not so blindly, a man with confidence, though not so cocky. A man I knew, a man who’d known me. Still, just a man.

  I neve
r could meditate. I rose to my knees, scattered the pillows, and blew out the candles that screamed of Nate.

  Kneeling, I asked God to show me my future, but he showed me my past: Alex slipping money to the beggars outside our honeymoon resort when he thought I wasn’t looking, because we’d been told not to encourage them, but he couldn’t resist the faces of the little boys; the two of us holding hands in this living room in front of the picture window, watching the sun set on our first night in our new home; Alex bringing me a cup of coffee in the waiting room at the hospital the night my father had his heart attack and then, seeing the silent plea in my eyes, ditching the coffee and sliding into the seat next to me to put his arm around me and hold me; Alex’s laughing face above mine the night I’d farted loudly during sex, the way he’d kept me pinned against him, refusing to let me run away and hide; Alex wearing the sweater I’d knit for him, saying it didn’t matter if one sleeve was longer than the other because he always pushed them up to his elbows anyway.

  And lastly, though it was neither the beginning nor the end but perhaps the center: Alex’s face the moment before I said I do. It was a quietly serious face, worshipful though he wasn’t a religious man, with a trace of worry crinkling the corners of his eyes, as though I might not say it, as though I might not love him as much as he loved me.

  My heart filled with the same combination of faith and hope I’d had that day. With God at my back, I’d made a promise to this man and with God at my back, I’d keep it.

  Chapter 30

  It didn’t occur to me that Alex might not be alone until he answered the door. He was wearing a pair of cutoff sweat pants without a shirt and his hair stood up in back.

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “Past our bedtime. Past mine, anyway.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I assume it couldn’t wait for tomorrow.”

  “We’re getting divorced tomorrow. Unless—”

  He backed away from the door and gestured for me to come in. The door opened into a little foyer with an archway into the living room to the left and a staircase to the right. I hadn’t imagined him in a place with more than one floor. The second story made it feel so permanent.