Elle wrote to introduce herself. She had corresponded with Madeline and long read my blog. Now she wanted to say hello. Perhaps we could meet when she and her boyfriend came New York for a music festival?
I checked the dates and replied that it would be great to meet. Perhaps we could have drinks?
That would be really nice, she agreed. Perhaps they could bring a bottle of bourbon to my place?
Now, there are many reasons people bring bottles of bourbon to my place, but one reason frequently rises above others. So I asked: were we planning a date for drinks or sex?
Sex, she wrote, would be a very nice possibility.
Elle and her boyfriend, Brian, were graduate students at a Southern university. Both were bisexual and nurtured the hope of finding male and female partners to bring into their relationship.
However, this wasn’t easy. Neither could risk exposure in their small college town, so they kept their sexuality behind closed doors. When they were lucky enough to find a potential date, there was always a problem. The women were primarily interested in sex with Brian. The men they met were primarily interested in sex with Elle. No one seemed to understand that Elle and Brian wanted to date as a couple, not to bring in someone else for one or the other.
“Does it sound jaded,” I wrote, “to say that this sounds pretty typical?”
I asked Madeline about her impressions of Elle. “She’s perfectly nice,” Madeline wrote. “What brand is she bringing?”
Now that sex was on the agenda, Elle and I traded photos. I sent a picture of my smiling face. She sent me a portrait, followed by a series of nudes. She was a pretty, voluptuous twenty-three-year old, with curly hair. She also sent a photograph of her boyfriend.
He wasn’t my type.
That might be a problem, as I was accepting a date with them as a couple, not with her alone. I looked at the photograph again. Why wasn’t I attracted to him?
He was tall and fine looking. He had piercing blue eyes and dark wavy hair. I couldn’t place my objection . . . oh, right. He had a beard. I’m not really one for facial hair.
“Brian looks like a pleasant fellow,” I wrote. “So, does he still have the beard?”
“It comes and goes,” she replied. “Practically daily.”
I scratched my chin. I decided to buck up. If they were nice, I could put aside an aversion to scratchy cheeks.
As their trip approached, we honed in on dates. Elle checked her concert calendar. I looked at my schedule of work and parenting. We realized that bourbon at my place wasn’t feasible. Instead, I would crawl into their hotel bed one morning after they had spent a late night at shows.
That morning, I took the kids to school and took a subway downtown. They were staying at a funky old hotel I liked. They buzzed me upstairs.
Elle greeted me at the door in her underwear. I kissed her good morning.
“Jefferson, come here. I want you to meet Brian.”
Elle led me to the bed. Brian was propped up on pillows, his eyes puffy, his hair tousled by sleep. The sheets were pulled up to the chest of his t-shirt.
“Hey, Jefferson,” Brian said, reaching for his glasses. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” I grinned, leaning forward to kiss his smooth cheek.
He looked cute in glasses.
“Jefferson, I feel like we owe you bourbon,” Elle apologized. “But it’s morning, so we got champagne instead. Is that okay?”
“I like champagne just fine, thanks,” I smiled, sitting in a chair. “That was very thoughtful.”
“Well, you’ll have to tell me if it’s any good,” she said, reaching for a bottle on a counter. “I don’t know anything about it.”
“We picked it up last night,” Brian nodded. “Elle remembered, thankfully.”
“It’s very thoughtful,” I repeated. I watched as Elle unraveled the gold foil and twisted off the wire encasement. She put her thumbs under the cork, winced and pointed the bottle away. “Oh,” I raised a hand. “May I?”
She laughed. “Yes, you’d better. I’ll kill someone.”
I twisted the cork from the bottle. I poured warm champagne into plastic cups. Elle declined, explaining that she doesn’t drink.
“Cheers.” I raised my cup to Brian.
“Cheers,” he replied.
I asked about their trip and the concerts they had seen at the festival. Elle spoke at a rapid pace, taking me through the events of the past few days. Brian listened quietly, nodding now and then. I got the sense he could’ve used a few hours more sleep.
The conversation turned to their opportunities to meet other partners at home.
“Brian actually had a promising date last week,” Elle said, turning to her boyfriend.
“Eh, I don’t know,” he said. He put his empty cup on a nightstand. I reached for the bottle to refill it. “I really got the idea that she was, you know, into dating me. She just wasn’t listening—oh, thanks, Jefferson—she wasn’t listening when I told her about being in an open relationship.”
Elle wriggled on her hips. “She’s cute, though.”
“Cute she is,” Brian agreed, raising the cup to his lips. Soft, full lips, I noticed.
I crossed my legs. The couple continued to talk about the frustrations of dating others. Elle confessed to a crush on a professor. I poured more champagne.
I listened, waiting.
Eventually, Elle looked at me. “Oh, I’m talking a mile a minute. We’re going to bore you.”
“Not at all,” I smiled. “It’s great to get to know you both. I’m enjoying it a lot. Still, I know you are on a tight schedule . . .”
“Yeah, I’m glad you could come over,” Brian said. “Sorry we couldn’t make it to your place.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “But perhaps we should . . .”
Elle nodded. “Oh yes, we should.”
Brian laughed, a little nervously.
I stood. “Here. How about I undress?”
Elle nodded again. “Oh yes, you should.” She leaned over to cuddle with her boyfriend.
They watched as I pulled off my sweater. I looked down to unbutton my shirt, kicking off my shoes as I did so. They watched as I lowered my jeans, adding them to the pile of clothes on my chair.
I sat on the bed, nude, leaning back on my arms. My shoulders rose to my ears. “So,” I said. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Brian glanced down my body. He leaned forward, bringing his lips to mine. Soft, full lips.
I parted my lips to his. His fingertips lightly grazed my thigh. I moaned into his mouth, growing hard as his fingers traced my leg.
“Oh God, that’s so hot,” Elle said, her voice somewhere in the world beyond Brian’s mouth. I cupped my hand to his neck and pulled him closer. My other hand tugged at his shirt. Our kiss broke as the shirt past our faces. Our lips found one another’s fast as the shirt landed on the floor.
I moved forward, pushing him back. I crouched over him, running my hands through his hair.
Elle moved aside to give us room. My fingers ran down to the hair on his chest. I began to will his beard to grow back, right now, this instant.
Brian pushed me back. I fell to the side of the bed Elle had just vacated. He stood and kicked his way out of sweat pants. He folded his glasses and carefully placed them on the nightstand before falling to take my cock in his mouth.
“Oh, shit, Brian,” I sighed. He snorted, swallowing me and pulling back to swallow me again. “Elle, Elle, come here,” I gestured. I patted the bed next to me. Elle crawled forward to sit beside me. “You have to kiss me, now,” I directed, breathless. “Your boyfriend is so fucking hot.”
“He’s so fucking hot,” she agreed, kissing me. She took my mouth as hungrily as her lover took my cock. I ran my hand to her bare breasts, wondering when she had undressed.
Given what they had told me, I intended to focus on Brian at first. I wanted to differentiate myself from the run-of-the-mill men who were fine with letting Brian blow them if that was the price for fucking Elle. I was not one of those bisexuals, not at all. I wanted them to feel I was in this for both of them.
“Fuck,” I groaned, taking my face from Elle’s. “God, look at him. He’s devouring me.”
Elle rested a hand on my chest. “He’s so fucking hot,” she repeated, her voice raspy. Brian looked up to her eyes, gurgling his response into my cock. His drool collected on my body.
I closed my eyes and let my head fall back. My body was theirs.
Elle ran her hands down my torso, bringing her lips to my nipples. I twitched as the ran her tongue along my skin, her movements as soft as her boyfriend’s were urgent. I curled and bucked as she found her way to my belly.
I sat up, taking Brian’s head in my hand. “Brian, man, you’re so great. But now I need to get my dick in your girlfriend.”
He panted, smiling. “Yeah, yeah . . .” he managed.
I sat up on my knees, holding out my hands. “C’mere, Elle. I want to kiss you.”
She took my hands and crawled on her knees to me. I wrapped my arms around her. Her kiss was supple and giving. As we kissed, I could imagine her receptive lips meeting Brian’s omnivorous mouth.
I pulled back and stood from the bed. I fumbled in the pocket of my jeans for a condom, tossing another on nightstand.
She sighed as I entered her. Brian lay on the bed, his arms on Elle’s torso as he watched me fuck his girlfriend. Her head rolled back as she twitched and breathed. “Oh fuck, oh fuck . . . “ she groaned. “Oh fuck, Brian, he’s making me cum . . .”
“Do it,” he grinned. He stroked her cheek. “Cum for me.”
Elle wailed as she came on my cock for her boyfriend.
“So fucking hot,” I said, pulling out. I nodded at Brian. “You want to fuck her?”
He grinned. “Sure. Thanks.”
“No problem.” I tugged the latex from my cock. I nodded at the nightstand. “Spare condom if you want.”
Brian positioned himself between her thighs. “No need,” he said, guiding his bare dick into her.
“Nice.” I moved to the other side of the bed. “Here, let me get in a good position to watch.” I put my hands on Elle’s cheek. She opened her mouth to my cock.
Brian struggled to push into her, raising her legs to his shoulders. I reached forward to take her ankles in my hands. He caught my eye. “Thanks, man.”
“I’m here to help,” I noted, easing my cock into his girlfriend’s throat. She gurgled.
Brian fucked her with quick strokes then fell back. “Shit.”
“What?” I asked.
“I’m not hard.” He stroked himself self-consciously.
“You want me to blow you?” I asked, continuing to fuck Elle’s face.
“No, it’s cool,” he said. He sounded disappointed.
I didn’t want him to fret about performance. If he grew anxious about that, his thoughts might run to wondering if she was enjoying me more than she enjoyed him, to wondering if I preferred her to him, to wondering if this had been a bad idea.
We needed to change tactics. I lowered Elle’s legs and pulled away from her face. She gasped for air.
“Hmmm, thank you,” I said. I crouched to kiss her. “Catch your breath. I won’t be far.”
I stepped on the bed, standing over her torso. “Brian?”
He looked up from his flaccid dick. “Yeah?”
I looked down. “Suck my dick, boy.”
He smiled. “Sure.”
Still breathing heavily, Elle watched as he took my cock again. “Brian . . .” she whispered. “So hot.”
He moved furiously on my cock. I reached up to steady myself on the ceiling. “Fuck, man,” I said, echoing Elle. “You suck that cock.”
Brian’s cock responded immediately. Elle took him in her hand and pulled him back into her body.
Brian thrust with his hips. I echoed his thrusts into his face. We were fucking full on.
He pulled away from me suddenly, dropping drool on Elle’s torso. “Oh, God, oh God . . . ,” he whispered.
“Baby, baby . . . ,” Elle answered.
Brian pulled back, taking his cock in hand. He sprayed on his girlfriend’s body. “Unh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Yeah, boy, give it to her,” I called.
Elle reached to her clit and groaned herself to climax.
I stepped aside. Brian fell next to Elle. They laughed, refilling their lungs. I lay next to him, kissing his forehead.
“So,” he said. “You coming Down South soon?”
“Not soon enough,” I grinned. “Ya’ll damned hot, ya’ll is.”
After a while, I made some noise about the clock. I wanted to give them some time to be alone together.
“What are your plans for the afternoon?” I asked, reaching for my pants.
“I’m not sure,” Elle said, reaching for a guidebook. “I was thinking we’d go for cupcakes. Not Magnolia, but another place . . .”
“And a deli,” Brian said.
“Oh yeah, a deli. I wanted to take Brian to a real deli. It’s a shame that the Second Avenue Deli is gone.”
“I know.” I buttoned my shirt. “That whole thing—the unsolved murder, the closing—was a real tragedy.”
“Murder?” Brian asked.
“The owner was killed a few years ago. The place never recovered.” I tucked in my shirt. “Sorry, that was dark. Have you tried Katz’s, down on Houston Street?”
“No.” Elle looked up from her book. “Is it good?”
“Only the best.” I took my jacket in my arm. “Okay, well, this was lovely. Thanks so much; it was great to finally meet.”
Elle stood and we kissed. I leaned over the bed to kiss Brian.
“Next time,” I smiled as I closed the door behind me.
As I hit the sidewalk, I reflected on the many roles I have played in this life. Son. Brother. Friend. Lover. Husband. Father. Now, it seemed I could add another: