Three Little Words

“Could what?”

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” She glanced heavenward but then gathered her courage. “Then would you please spend about an hour between my legs? I think I’m going to need it twice tonight.”

I lifted her to her feet and kissed her. “Mmm, I could eat a Little Bit.”

“Oh my gosh, that was so bad.”

“You aren’t dating me for my bad puns?”

She pursed her lips but then reached up to caress my cheek. “I’m dating you because you don’t make me feel like a tramp for the things we do. And for your bad puns, but mostly ’cause of the way you take care of me. Oh, and because you make me all tingly, especially down there.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“Well? What’d you expect? I like sex as much as the next girl.”

“Maybe more than the next girl?”

“A lot more, especially with you.”

“I’m glad you can admit that. Finally. But now… you mentioned a bath?

And then I have an extended date with your pussy.”

“Mmm, yes, please.”

Later we opened the bottle of whiskey we’d brought with us. We poured a couple of glasses and relaxed in an armchair by the fire. Christy sat in my lap and rested her glass on her bare thigh. We were drinking it neat, since I didn’t want to put on clothes to go out for ice.

“For the record,” she said, “this was Marianne’s suggestion for this weekend: whiskey and hanky-panky by the fire.”

“Not a public blowjob and then a walk back to the inn with come on your face?”

Christy snorted. After a moment she grew thoughtful and said,

“Marianne’s awesome, and we’re alike in lots of ways, but she’s way too normal. I mean, she and Harry are happy, and she’s a great mom to their kids, but I can’t imagine our life being anything like theirs, especially in the bedroom.”

“Um… no.”

“For one thing, she’s a bit like me but won’t admit it. I was talking about Phoebe Cates one time, how she’s really sexy, but Marianne shut down. I thought it was weird, so another time I said something about Jennifer Beals.

Same thing. It’s like she was scared someone might think she’s a lesbian or something.” She looked up at me. “Is there a word for that, Mr. Thesaurus?”

“Probably,” I chuckled, “but I don’t know what it is. Maybe…

‘homophobic’? I think I read that somewhere.”

“Is that like ‘claustrophobic’?”

“Yeah. It means ‘afraid of homos.’ Probably short for ‘homosexuals.’”

Christy nodded. “That’s what she is, all right. I always got a sense that she liked women too, which was why I hinted around. Don’t get me wrong, I love Marianne, but I don’t want to be like her. Well, except for the happy wife and mother part. That’s okay.”

I nodded. She was hinting at us having children together, and I wasn’t so slow on the uptake that I missed the unspoken question.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “the wife and mother part is great. But the rest…?” I shrugged. “I like Marianne too. A lot. But I know what you mean about the homophobic part. I’ve always been attracted to bisexual girls anyway, way more than straight ones.”

“That’s one of the reasons I know you won’t ever go back to Gracie.”

Christy said her name like an insult, and I hid my surprise. I knew she didn’t like Gracie, but I didn’t realize how deep her feelings went.

“She’s totally not your type,” she added. Then she brightened. “Also, I don’t plan to let you recover enough energy to leave me. Mmm hmm,” she added, matter-of-factly, “I’m going to drain you twice a day, at least.”

“Oh, at least,” I teased. “So… you’re a sexual vampire?”

“Of course!” She did a pretty good Dracula accent, “I vant to suck your cock.”

I chuckled and moved her sideways to give the cock in question a better angle to expand.

“Ooh, someone likes the idea. Are you ready now?” She made a move to

set her glass aside.

“Not yet. I wanna build up to it.”

“Oh, okay. I like when we do that.”

“Me too. Duh. So, how ’bout one of your extra-long blowjobs when we’re ready?”

“Perfect!”

“In the meantime, do you want to show me your sketchbook?”

“Sure, let’s look at penises.” She laughed. “Wow, I never thought I’d say that. I mean, I’ve had that sketchbook for years and never showed it to anyone. Wren only found it ’cause she was snooping through my stuff.

Remind me to wring her neck sometime, okay?”

“Will do,” I chuckled.

“Okay, lemme get it. Be right back.” She hopped up and went to her overnight bag. I shamelessly enjoyed the sight as she bent over. She returned with the sketchbook I recognized from before. Then she paused and looked at me, and I suddenly felt self-conscious.

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry.” She smiled. “I was just thinking how lucky I am. I mean, I’ve always been attracted to you, physically, but I never realized how much we had in common.” She slid into my lap and got comfortable.

“I always thought I’d have to hide my wild fantasies and a lot of my past,” she explained. “I knew you weren’t like most guys, but still… Never in a million years would I have thought you were like me. I mean, for real like me.”

“Same here. I thought you were some prudish Catholic schoolgirl—”

“Which you’ve said… many times.”