Page 54 of The List
“Maybe. Probably. I guess I never considered that.”
“Women can be sneaky.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to point out that Cassie doesn’t strike me that way at all. But I decide to continue with my story.
“So, the three of you are alone together…” Cassie prompts, and my dick twitches as I realize how eager she is to hear this story.
“Right,” I say. “I don’t remember who started the touching, but one thing led to another. Clothes started coming off on the way to the bedroom. Bras and shoes and shirts tossed all the way up the stairs. I let the women take the lead. I guess I didn’t want anyone to feel left out or jealous or anything.”
“And did they? Get jealous, I mean?”
I take a sip of my wine, considering. “A little. There’s no rule book, you know? Everyone has different expectations about who’s going to touch whom, or how far it’s all going to go.”
“How do you mean?”
I shrug. “I wasn’t sure my not-girlfriend wanted me to actually have sex with the other woman. I thought that might be crossing some unspoken line or something. But it turns out that’s exactly what she wanted, and she got annoyed I didn’t go right for it.”
Cassie laughs, clearly enjoying the story for more than just the turn-on factor. “You mean you didn’t have a conversation about it?”
“Not really. I guess in hindsight, I suppose a little communication might have been useful.”
“That does seem to be key.”
“True,” I say, wondering if it could be that simple. What if I just told Cassie everything? About the money, the job, my family…
But no. I’ve done that before. And then I’ve watched Junie’s face crumple when I have to explain to her that we won’t be having lunch with Kaitlyn anymore. Or Paula. Or?—
“Anyway,” I continue, “I guess it all worked out. Everyone got off, anyway. I made sure of that.”
“Oh, come on!” Cassie smacks my arm, making my wine slosh dangerously close to the rim. “I need more detail than that!”
“What? Like positions or something?”
“Yes, please.” She grins and sips her wine again.
“Uh, well—I was on my back for a while with my not-girlfriend riding me. Then they switched spots and the other woman climbed on. You’re sure you want to hear this?”
“Definitely.” Her cheeks are flushed, and she squirms the way I’ve seen her do when she’s really turned on.
“In a way, I was sort of like a carnival ride or something,” I say. “They experimented with touching and licking and stroking each other while they took turns riding me. Not that I had any complaints about it.”
It occurs to me I’m making this sound pretty passive. Cassie wanted a sex fantasy, and I’m basically confessing that my one shot at a threesome was sort of ho-hum. Not that it didn’t check a major box on my own sexual bucket list, but it left something to be desired. Intimacy, for one. Connection.
It occurs to me that I’m sharing more with her now than I have in all the weeks we’ve spent time together. True, it’s a years-old sex story. But I’m opening up. Doesn’t that count for something?
But then I remember what it felt like the morning after that threesome. Bailey—that was my not-girlfriend—was primed for the role of a jet-setting millionaire’s girlfriend. The parties, the jewelry, the crazy sex that seemed more like a ploy to keep me hooked rather than something to build intimacy.
It was par for the course, as far as my relationships go.
This thing with Cassie started out sexual, too. And I’m pretty sure I’m an idiot for even thinking it could be more.
“So, that’s pretty much it.” I take another sip of wine. I don’t know why, but I feel hollow and raw.
“I’m impressed,” Cassie says. “This was your chance to tell me some porn-star tale about how you nailed two chicks at once with your massive meat wand and left them both begging for more.”
I laugh and finish the last of my wine. “Sorry to disappoint you. If it helps, I could make up a story about the time I made a whole roomful of women come using only mental telepathy.”
“I’ll pass,” she says. “I was wondering, though. Do you think when we cross the last item off the list, there’s a chance we could still?—”
