Playing Doctor (12 page)

Waiting until the right
time to speak with Elliott was nerve-racking, but obviously I couldn't do it with the kids around or over the phone when he was at work. Now, finally after several days, the kids are asleep and we have some time alone.

Speaking quietly, I begin, “Darling, do you remember when we talked about a ménage à trois years ago?”

“Yes, sort of. That was a long time ago,” Elliott replies.

We're on the living-room couch holding hands, relaxing. Looking at him sideways, I notice once again how charming he is. After nineteen years it's easy to just look through him, seeing the whole person combined with our history together, rather than noticing how he actually looks. I'm surprised to note that he's older with a few wrinkles and a little graying hair. I guess I appear older to his eyes too. However, his face is still that special combination of chiseled masculinity and warm friendliness that drew me to him all those years ago.

I realize I've let the conversation lapse as I look at him and try to decide if I'm doing the right thing. How will he take even just being asked the question? Elliott may have fantasized about two women and him—I would guess most men have at some time in their lives—but I worry that he'll be jealous of the idea of me with another man. I'm uncertain but know that this is something I want very badly. So sitting up, I turn toward him and spill it all—that I want to try a threesome now but with a twist, with another guy, not a woman.

Pulling his hand away, Elliott asks emphatically, “Who? Who do you want this with?”

“Well,” I hedge, “not with anyone you know. I really don't know him well either.”

“That doesn't make any sense,” he says testily.

Quickly, I lay out my secret plan and tell him the person is my surgeon, my
former
surgeon.

Interrupting me, Elliott growls, “That letch, coming on to a patient. I'm going to report him and have him disbarred. How dare…”

“No! No, Elliott, it wasn't like that, really! And you can't have him disbarred. He's a doctor, not a lawyer.”

Leaning toward my husband, I make him look me in the eye and carefully explain it all again and that it was entirely my idea. I reassure him, “I won't do it, if you don't want to, and we'll become friends first, take it really slowly, and we can stop moving forward at any time.”

Looking somewhat angry, he seems like he's going to say no. I'm not sure it's wise, but I remind him about his affair years ago. “Remember how hurt I was and how I said that I should be able to have one too, sometime? You didn't disagree with me then, but I never thought I would actually meet anyone who interested me. I don't think you thought I'd meet anyone either.”

Elliott sort of shrugs, and I can't tell if he agrees or disagrees, so I rush on.

“But I don't want to have just an affair… I want more than that. I feel myself getting older, Elliott. Suddenly there's this surging sensuality that wants to flow out of me, and I feel freer than I did when I was younger, freed even to risk something new and exciting. I want to explore all of this before I'm too old.”

“Valerie, I don't think you're old at all,” he contradicts. “Not to me anyway.”

“Don't you see? Soon it would be just absurd to have a ménage à trois with gray hair and wrinkles. And wouldn't it be, you know, exciting to make some erotic memories that we can share in our old age? I have lots of naughty fantasies, Elliott. I promise you it'll be lots of wild fun!”

“If I were to agree, and I'm not saying I would, but for argument's sake, why would we have to become friends with the guy? Can't you just have a one-night stand and be done with it?”

“I'll never do something behind your back. I love you too much and value our family. And I'll only go forward if you want to also,” I promise him. “But I just can't hop into bed with a stranger. I would need to be friends with the person to be comfortable…and if I'm not comfortable and enjoying it, then, really, what would be the point?”

Then to show my husband how much I love him, I lean over and start kissing him gently and seductively on his lips, then around his face, and working down his neck. Elliott doesn't object, and while I may have started this to distract him and to prove my love, I quickly begin to get very excited. Just talking about a threesome is already adding juice to our sex life.

We finish the discussion in the bedroom after some rocking good sex. After thinking about it for a while, Elliott agrees that we can proceed. He will at least meet Luka and then see how it goes. He's not promising anything else.

Tonight's the important first
meeting. Both men have to like each other for this to work, and Elliott has a bigger stake in it. With this many years of commitment to me, he must realize the risk he is taking in letting me pursue the idea of sex with another man. I'm confident that I'll remain committed and in love with Elliott, but for him there must be questions.

My hubby must think I've overdone it with my choice of clothing for tonight, but I want to wow both men—make them want it as much as I do. I chose a skintight black dress that has long sleeves with sexy cutouts that leave my shoulders bare. The dress is very short, reaching about mid-thigh. The pièce de résistance is my footwear, gray-and-black zebra-striped platform pumps described once by my appreciative husband as “fuck-me shoes.”

My long, lean legs are my best feature, and I want the men to get a good view of them. I'll admit the shoes are just a little painful after the surgery, but we're just going for drinks, sitting down, so it should be okay. I am slightly giddy with excitement, and my sexy clothing only adds to the edgy thrill. I know I look good, and tonight I'm going to show off.
Otherwise, why bother with all that hard work exercising?
I tell myself.

“I see you want to cement the deal, don't you?” my husband says as he slides his arm around my waist.

“Do you like it?” I taunt with a sexy smile and get rewarded with a hot, demanding kiss.

This is going to be an exciting evening!

We are meeting Luka at a popular club in downtown Boston. Called a “superlounge bar,” it has loud dancing in one room and a quieter lounge section in another. We've made a reservation, so I know we'll be seated in a dark, quiet corner. As we ride the elevator up, I squeeze Elliott's hand and offer him a quick kiss.

“Thank you for being so open to trying something new,” I say for perhaps the third time tonight.

The hostess tells us that Luka is already waiting and leads us toward the back. Butterflies jump in my stomach as I wonder if the guys will get along. I realize that I'm already one hundred percent committed to fucking them both, but it all depends on tonight. Watching Luka intently as we walk over, I can tell that both men are sizing each other up. But then Luka's eyes light on me, and he obviously likes what he sees, looking me over from head to sexy toe.

To Elliott, Luka says, “I hope you don't mind my saying so, but you have one sexy, beautiful wife. As a podiatrist I shouldn't like the shoes either, but they're hot!”

Elliott seems pleased, rather than annoyed. I guess he's enjoying showing me off. The guys shake hands and we sit down on a comfy lounger, with me in between them. At first we busy ourselves looking at the menu and ordering drinks, but then we fall into an awkward silence. Not knowing what else to say, I ask about his kids—a boy and a girl—and we talk ages and exchange photos before the conversation drifts off again. I realize I'd better take things up a notch, or this threesome plan is going to turn into a big dud.

“So, Luka, what's the wildest thing you've ever done in bed?” I ask.

Both men start a little in surprise, but that gets the conversation going, and we play a game of besting each other's tall tales. In truth, although Elliott and I have played some kinky games in the bedroom in the past, none of us has done anything quite like this. But my question does get us talking and joking and laughing. Ordering second and third rounds of cocktails, we move on to talk about our jobs and hobbies. We're now having fun—which is the whole point of this plan, isn't it?

I'm careful to keep planting kisses on Elliott and showing him lots of attention, but I can't resist casually, as if by accident, dropping my hand onto Luka's thigh. I guess it was not casual enough because both men glance down, but no one says anything, so my hand stays where it is. The bar has filled and others have joined our seating area, but we're not out to make new friends, so we just keep talking among ourselves.

I'm loving it!—openly flirting with two men at once and seeing curious looks from the three women sitting near us. I am not going to share my toys, and to make that clear, I turn and give Elliott a long, adoring kiss on the lips. Immediately after, I turn to my right and give Luka a little peck on the cheek. The ladies are openly watching us now, so Luka winks at Elliott and then gives me a quick but passionate kiss on the lips. Afterward I purr and lean into him, throwing my legs up onto Elliott's lap and lounging against Luka.

We are all enjoying a little exhibitionism, so I ask without looking at the women, “What are they doing now?”

“Well,” Elliott responds, “a number of people have noticed us, and it's a mix of curious glances, disgusted glares, and even two guys smiling and giving us a thumbs-up. The ladies can't seem to decide if they are outraged or think it's funny, but they keep looking over.”

I'm a little tipsy and laugh loudly about it. How often in my life have I been the envy of other women? And as good-looking as my two dates are, those women must be more than a little envious.

It's quite late now, and Luka says, “This has been fun. How about we meet for drinks again or maybe dinner sometime?”

“That sounds great,” I respond, looking at Elliott for confirmation.

“Well,” he says, pausing a little as I hold my breath, “I'm thinking that I'm okay with taking it to the next level, if you are?” he asks Luka.

Luka nods agreement, and Elliott continues.

“Perhaps you and I should shake hands on a gentlemen's agreement that the three of us are going to keep getting to know each other, hopefully becoming friends, and eventually maybe I'll be okay with sharing her. But she stays my wife.”

As I sit between them, I feel the undercurrent of excitement but also some tension. Looking back at Luka, I wait for his reply.

“That sounds good,” he says, reaching his hand over me and extending it to Elliott. I sit quietly in a sort of amazed stupor as the two men firmly shake hands over my body, both literally and figuratively.

Thus ends a good evening and officially begins our ménage à trois.

Elliott and I are
both excited—or on edge maybe, I'm not sure. Nevertheless it's the following Saturday night and we are at Luka's apartment door, ringing the bell. Curious what his doctor's bachelor pad would look like, I am pleased to see that it is the perfect place for a risqué liaison. The new, modern complex consists of townhomes with their own outside doors, which means no doorman would be into our business or smirking behind our backs.

Inside, the place has an open floor plan with a kitchen and dining area on one side and the living room on the other. The glow from a fireplace along one side of the wall lends a seductive ambiance, and the modern black leather sofa and chairs look inviting. Rising from the middle of the great room is an open staircase, creating a natural break between the dining and lounging areas. The staircase leads up to what looks like a loft bedroom. Hugging Luka hello, I can't help wondering what size bed he has.

“My bedroom's upstairs,” he volunteers. “And it just so happens that I recently bought a king-size bed.”

Giggling a little, I respond, “Oh, that's nice!”

Was that about the stupidest thing I could say? I guess I'm a little nervous.

“There are bathrooms upstairs and down,” he continues, gesturing behind the staircase. “Along with an office, but I'm using it as the kids' room when they sleep over.”

Will we ever meet his kids or vice versa, I ponder, but really it is just fine to keep this wild part of our lives completely separate from the children.

I see that the table is set for three. After opening the wine we brought, we sit down to a simple dinner of pasta and salad. It's good, but sometime it might be fun to make a nice dinner for them—play wife to two men.

I dressed in a tight, fairly short sweaterdress along with my one pair of Japanese schoolgirl socks that reach to my thighs, leaving just a hint of skin showing between the hem and socks. Dark fall colors and warm enough for a Boston autumn, but still I hope seductive looking. I feel attractive and just a little sexy when Luka's eyes travel up and down my body. Expecting a rebuke from my surgeon, I have on fairly high-heeled shoes—I just can't surrender to flats anymore—but he doesn't say anything as he smiles at me.

Underneath my more modest street clothes, my desires truly rage on. Although I'd be embarrassed to admit it to them, I made a special trip to a fancy lingerie store and tried on lots and lots of sexy, skimpy things, keeping the staff busy bringing me this and that different size until I found the perfect set. So tonight I have on lacy, China-red boy-style hip-hugger panties. Just knowing I have them on makes me feel ever so sensual. My matching push-up bra gives my bosom an extra boost, and I know that at least my husband will appreciate my seductive lingerie later this evening. Lastly, in my purse is a deck of playing cards—a woman wants to be prepared, just in case!

We are taking our time eating and getting to know each other better. Elliott doesn't share Luka's interest in television sports, but we all like to ski and we discuss the merits of various Vermont ski resorts. After finishing dinner, we bring our wineglasses with us to the sofa and talk for a while longer. The more I get to know Luka, the more I like him. I hope the feelings are mutual all around.

Certainly the men seem relaxed, laughing, at ease. They're engaged in the conversation, as I absentmindedly join in now and again. I am distracted thinking about my fantasies and whether or not there is the chance they might actually come true at some point.

The whole scene, my sexy underthings, and the company of two handsome men make me feel hot and touchy-feely. As the evening progresses, I find myself caressing Elliott's arm or dropping a kiss on his cheek or neck. And whenever I have the chance, I can't resist quickly touching Luka on the shoulder or arm. I miss his gentle touches from the office visits.

Don't they have a clue how turned on I'm getting sitting between them? When I get the chance, laughing at some joke I didn't even listen to, I “innocently” touch their thighs or slightly higher on their legs. But they seem immune to my little overtures. After another hour, I can't stand the building sexual tension inside me one minute longer. I need to get home so that Elliott and I can act on those feelings. With a throaty, husky voice, I murmur, “Well, gentleman, I enjoyed our evening very much. Should we do it again to, umm, build our friendship further?”

Is there too much hope sounding in my voice?
I wonder. Both men are silent, observing me for long moments. Their faces show speculation or annoyance—I'm not sure. Their quietness leaves me wondering what they are thinking. I am really not ready to give up on my fantasy, but maybe this is the turning point when either man will say he just isn't into it. I guess I am asking a lot. Men joke about a ménage à trois, but I know a straight man's version usually involves two women and only one of them. The silence drags on. I am wondering if this is a standoff over who will speak first.

Finally, Elliott clears his throat and says, “Well, I think I'm ready to take it to the next level…”

Luka leans in and says, “Yes, I am too. And, with your permission, Elliott, ah, why wait?”

Happily I plant a quick kiss on each of their faces and offer, “I have a deck of cards in my purse. Anyone up for strip poker?”

They look at me and laugh.

“Why not?” one of them says as I dig through my purse for the deck.

I quickly explain the rules—my rules. We'll play Five Card Draw, and the loser of each round will have an article of clothing removed. The winner gets to undress the loser, but only I will undress the men and only I will touch them, ever. We'll have one chance to draw better cards, and then we show our hand. The loser is the one with the worst hand. Then I showed them a list of winning hands, easier than explaining it. I'm so pleased I have on my new sexy lingerie, although there is a chance I will win and they'll never see it.

We play a quick practice round and make sure we have roughly the same number of articles of clothing. After playing six rounds, we've all lost our shoes. Then Luka loses with a lousy two-pair hand, and I reveal my full house. He dutifully lifts up his leg, and I slowly strip off a sock, giggling as I toss it aside. We're enjoying our wine and it shows.

My husband wins next and I'm the loser. I move in front of him, and he slowly strips off one of my schoolgirl socks as I sit on the coffee table with my leg raised. How can my one naked leg feel so exposed? Both men have seen this leg before.

After I return to the couch, Luka wins and I seem to be on a losing streak. I'm tingling all over with excitement as I move in front of him and sit again on the low table, raising my leg for him to take off the second sock. But instead Luka gently pulls me to my feet, with his knees on either side of my legs. He reaches out and slowly grasps the hem of my knit dress.

“Wait…you're supposed to take off my other sock!” It comes out as a surprised squeak as I look down to see him raising the hem.

Luka glances at Elliott, almost apologetically, and says, “I may not win again, and I won't give up the chance to unwrap this sexy package.” There's an unspoken “Do you mind?” directed at Elliott. I'm hot all over, realizing we may have reached a point of no return.

Ever so slowly, Luka pulls up the hem of the dress. The soft sweater material wisps up my legs, and my red lacy panties are exposed. I hold my breath, my insides tingling—I'm actually trembling with excitement. The men's eyes are riveted on my body, and the dress is bit by bit pulled over my head. I hear their low moans of appreciation as the dress is tossed aside. Luka's hands come back to me, unhurriedly sliding up my body, gliding over my panties, up my hips, and just passing by the outsides of my breasts. The tingles in my belly move lower, and looking down at him, I also see my nipples peak underneath the lacy bra. Luka sees them too.

“Well, okay, well,” I say to no one in particular. “I guess it's your deal,” I say to Luka as I move to sit back down between them.

I'm a little anxious now, as I am forty-four after all. At his age I'm sure he's used to much younger women, but after coming this far, I am not going to give in to nervousness. I'm not going to give up—one of them will have to stop this risqué game. I glance over at Elliott, then lean over and kiss his cheek.

“You are the best!” I say, and he kisses me back hard on the mouth—so far so good on that front.

Luka states, “I
will
win the next round with you, Valerie…somehow I'm going to win.”

Well, he didn't win the next two rounds. I did! And I happily enjoyed my opportunity to take their shirts off. Forget the socks—I wanted to see skin. Elliott had a pullover, so that was quick, but with Luka, I leisurely undid each button starting from his neck and working down, using my hands to slide the shirt off his strong shoulders and down his arms. It was my first long contact with his body and I took my time, enjoying the feel of his skin and firm muscles. He sucked in his breath sharply as I finished caressing down his arms.

My head is beginning to swim. I'm so aroused, sitting here with practically nothing on, knowing that Luka is constantly watching me, looking at my breasts and lower. Another round of wine and we're all a little tipsy, but not really, more like wired. The room sizzles, or is it just me?

Luka wins the next round with the best possible hand, a royal straight flush. I turn my hand over to reveal a two pair, and only Elliott's hand remains now. I know Luka will win, but who will be the loser? I have butterflies in my stomach, and my nipples are tight, hard buds.

All eyes are on Elliott's cards as he slowly rotates his hand—he has a straight flush, the second-best hand possible. I freeze when I realize I've lost, wondering what Luka will take off next.

Elliott tosses his cards down on the table and leans back to watch the show, wineglass in hand. Swirling the wine in his glass and inhaling the aroma, he's clearly enjoying himself. Glancing at Luka, I see he's leaning back, watching me hunter-like, with a small predatory smile on his lips.

It has all come down to this. It's time for me to back down and call it quits, or to surrender to him. I can sense tension in the room as we all wonder what will happen next. I'm nervous but I know what I want.

Dutifully I get up and move to stand in front of Luka. I'll make it his decision. What will he do? Maybe he'll be the one to back down and just take off the other sock. It does feel silly having on only one sock. Looking down at him, into his eyes, I can see how steamy they are—intense, blazing—and there is no indecision there.

He gently but firmly pulls me forward until I'm crawling onto his lap, straddling his thighs, my breasts now directly in front of his eyes. I can't breathe, and it seems no one is breathing; it's so still and quiet. Sitting over his crotch, I can feel now that he desires me. I am becoming wet too and feel light-headed. As he reaches around me and masterfully unhooks the bra, there is no fumbling and no hesitation.

Trembling on his lap, I gasp when I feel the hooks come apart. This is so much more intense than the dress. Locked in his gaze, I am frozen, looking into his intense stare as I feel the straps sliding forward over my shoulders. Then his eyes drop to my breasts and the silky bra falls away.

These aren't young breasts—they've fed two children. What will he think? What is my husband thinking?

The bra is tossed aside as I watch Luka slowly lean toward me. His sensual mouth opens, and he takes my nipple and areola into his mouth. I am helpless now, moaning and leaning into him, the exotic feelings of having another man's mouth on me making me quake.

Holding his head to my breast with both hands, I moan louder. I can't let this stop. It can't stop; it feels too good. Luka continues to suck and lick my nipple, and I tremble. I know what I need, what I must have.

I raise my head and turn to look at my husband who is frozen, still watching intently. Does he like it or hate it?

I reach one hand toward him. “Please, Elliott, please,” I say as I reach for him and turn to expose my other breast toward him. “Please!” I reach and crook my fingers, gesturing and pleading.

I know he knows what I want, what I need. Elliott slowly puts his glass down and half crawls across the space on the sofa until he is right next to me. I watch the mouth that I have loved for years slowly lowering onto my other breast as I gasp and moan loudly.

This is heaven, so much better than I could have imagined. This sexual fantasy that I hadn't even known I wanted a few months ago is astonishingly fulfilling. I hold both men's heads to my breasts and give in to the wild feelings coursing through my body. The excitement I'm feeling is obvious, and it inspires the men as they suck harder on my breasts and begin using their hands to caress all over my body. My whimpers and pleading grow loud in the room. I'm on fire. It feels so good!

The large room is filled with my gasps and moans and the slight sucking sounds of two mouths. I am so wet and hot, and there is tingling everywhere, swirling sensations filling me and taking over as I mindlessly surrender to an orgasm centered in my breasts. As it overwhelms me, I feel so good, so alive, so right.

Gradually my breathing slows, and I relax into Luka's arms, resting my head on his shoulder while looking at Elliott. I'm too comfortable to say anything.

Resting his chin on my head, Luka looks over at Elliott and asks, “Did she?”

With a small smile, Elliott says, “Valerie sometimes has very sensitive breasts. Lucky for her, lucky for me.”

After reaching out one hand, I gently caress Elliott's arm, love for him and wonder at my good fortune filling me. Could any woman be this lucky? After a while, I lean back, acutely aware of how exposed I am with practically no clothes on and the men almost fully dressed.