Random Acts Of Crazy (30 page)

And then I said what I had been thinking these past few minutes, my mind blown with the headiness of it all. “Can we try?”

Those simple words, that full-throated offer, made the air crackle, the room suspended in midair, timeless. Joe practically sprinted to the bed, lube in hand, and didn’t need to give an answer. Kisses dotted my back and shoulder blades, hands cupping my breasts from behind, Trevor smiling up at me with those baby blues that begged for me to release into his ocean of everything and accept him and Joe full into my center.

“I’m going to – ” Joe said, not finishing the sentence as I felt a slick warmth pour down my butt crack, the tickle of viscosity making me shudder. Trevor caressed by breasts as Joe searched out my ass, a pinkie touching the rim, making my pussy tighten. Trevor groaned as I learned I had a whole layer of wall muscle within that I could lengthen and shorten at my pleasure’s command, focusing on making myself tighten as hard as possible around Trevor, his groan of lust an answer to whether it was working for him.

And then I changed my mind. The pain of his pinkie took me too far away, distracted and filled with preoccupations and trepidations.

“Stop,” Trevor said quietly. “You don’t have to, Darla. You are completely in charge. Whatever you want, we’ll give. Whatever you don’t want, won’t happen.”

“Absolutely,” Joe added.

“It’s not that I don’t want it,” I explained, hissing into the space above Trevor, brimming with a humming need to fuck him silly, and to make love with Joe, too. “It’s just – ”

“You never have to justify your feelings,” Joe said, kissing my neck. He got off the bed and walked to the bathroom. A faucet creaked on. The sound of rushing water. Then Joe was back, slightly wet hands on my back, as Trevor began shifting his hips up, thrusting into me.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” he moaned.

“So don’t.” With that, I lifted my pelvis, sliding up to the tip, letting it rest ever-so-lightly in me, and then slammed myself down so hard his cock hit my inner wall, going so deep I could nearly feel it next to my heart. Three more thrusts like that and Trevor’s eyes went hot, then closed, neck straining as he let himself take over, shaping his thrusts with a hip twist that made me come crazy-like, fingers clinging to his shoulders, rutting like an animal in heat, my body firing through the push to get closer, closer, closer…

And then.

Trevor let out a dusky gasp and called out, “Joe!” Slipping me off, Trevor grinned and gave me a kiss, panting through the not-so-slow descent from his climax. “I want you to have Joe. But on my terms, this time.”
Wink.

What?
What did that mean? I felt like I had a fireball inside me that was only partly extinguished, my body craving Joe’s, to know him as intimately as I knew Trevor, to feel him over me, hands on his body, owning him and trusting him, sharing my core with him the way I had with Trevor. The heat in the room had nothing to do with temperature, Joe’s barely-contained lust coming out in full force as I stretched out, like a cat, on the bedspread, waiting for so much more.

Once I knew I could trust them, once I knew that I could decide what we did and didn’t do, it was easy to let them call the shots now. No matter what, they wouldn’t push me into anything I wanted, which gave them even
more
freedom. Ironic, I know. Testing the world and learning came hand-in-hand from knowing that someone else’s well being was in your hands, and respecting their boundaries meant showing them you could trust them.

Joe and Trevor were
great
students in that life lesson.

“Is there more I can do?” Joe said in a teasing, seductive voice as he loomed over me, chest working overtime with arms to hover, his little kisses as he dipped down for a quick peck setting me ablaze.

“You can fuck me.” The words came out flat and desperate, triggering a chuckle that rumbled low in his throat.

“Mmmmm, I think we can do more,” Trevor interrupted. He and Joe exchanged a look I couldn’t decipher, and then – Joe’s cock in me – a duality in me split into two completely different Darlas, one losing her mind and the other trying, in an endless loop, to understand how one man could do both delectable things at the same time.

Oh. He can’t.

But
they
could.

As Joe nestled himself between my legs, entering me as if in a state of worship, his arms on either side of my face and his seductive smile of desire nearly making me cry with happiness, Trevor curled up next to me, face right by my hip. The energy from Joe’s body entwined with mine was incredible, re-energizing me.

“I won’t last long,” Joe said, a smile in his words. My eyes were closed now, his body searing through me, the softness of his strokes making me die a little from pure thrill with each little feather-like hammer. His thrusts grew, filling me, going quickly from gentle to intense and I rode with him, twinning my movements with his, until Trevor’s hands roamed my body, his fingers inserted between mine and Joe’s bodies, searching for my clit.

Fireworks. Explosion.
Nothing prepared me for that, with Joe pumping into me, hammering into me as he fought his way through his own orgasm, my unexpected supernova turning me into a screaming, loud madwoman. The sense of complete abandon was so all-pervasive; I felt I could do anything right now.

“Ah, Joe, ah, yes!” I cried, Trevor’s fingers and Joe filling me, his body seizing suddenly, a hoarse cry coming from him as he pushed in, pulled out, shorter, staccato movements that teased out the last few drops of my own pent-up need.

Collapsing on me, Joe went limp, Trevor’s hand moving out, the three of us stretched out on the bed in a heap of utter satiety.

And that is how I came (
pun intended
) to have my first threesome. Probably my only threesome, I assumed, because in a few hours they would be gone. Stifling my need to overtalk or overthink, I snuggled up as much as I could, sandwiched between perfection, my curves in complement to their toned athletes’ bodies. We fit together well, feminine and masculine, the contrast visually appealing as I peeked through one eye, evaluating us.

In the slivers of moonlight that crept in around the hotel curtains, I saw how calm and peaceful they both were, Joe planting a lazy kiss on my breast, Trevor standing to pull the comforter and sheets down, all three of us dragging ourselves under, already half-asleep. In a big pile of big old me and these two hot musicians the three of us faded off to sleep to dream whatever it is you dream after breaking every rule.

And loving it.

There’s the open door, asshole. You opened it, threw back a sum of money that washed your conscience, and took off.

A growl of pain came out of my mouth, a keening sound I never heard before, and I shoved a pillow over my face to stop from having someone who worked there – someone, inevitably, that I would know– find me like
this
. Every part of me that had felt so complete, so full, so wise now echoed in the empty room. I had fallen asleep covered in men and woke up abandoned.

Overnight, my world changed, just like it had eighteen years ago. Slightly panicked, I sat up and looked around the room, searching for –

Nope. It was gone. Trevor took Daddy’s guitar along with my self-respect.

No, Darla, you handed them both to him on a silver platter.

Only one person could help me now. I stood, the sheets like sandpaper against my bare skin, the natural line coming in around the curtains enough to light my way to my purse, to find my phone. Autodial.

Josie.

“Hello?”

She needed to be able to hear dog whistles to discern the sounds coming out of me. “I can’t believe I did this and they left,” I screeched, the words mingled with a sob. The result was a juicy hiccup covered in a high-pitched screed.

“Whoa! Darla. Slow down. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Her voice went into that deadly calm she got during emergencies. Made her a damn fine nurse.

“Not physically.”

“Who left?”

“Joe and Trevor.”

“The guys from Random Acts of Crazy?”

I nodded, now getting a really good look at the room. The floor was littered with $20 bills. Littered. Jesus, how many did they leave? The more my eyes tracked and inventoried, the angrier I got.

“Darla? You there?” Her voice was firm again.
Oh, shit.
She couldn’t see me nod.

“Yes. And yes, the guys from the band.”

“They went home?”

“Yep.” That made the tears come, big, bulbous tears like a little kid’s, pooling then spilling over in great mounds of salt water, pouring down my face and dotting my bare chest.

“What happened? Are you OK? What did they do?” Her voice trailed off, concern coming through loud and clear.

“They up and left me alone here at the truck stop hotel,” I bellowed.

“They wha – ” As if chopped off with an ax, her voice just stopped cold. “They left you.”

“They.”

“They?”

“They – yes,
they
. It’s a fucking word, Josie. It means two or more people.”

“MORE?” The implication in that shout was pretty fucking clear. Whatever I said next would cement, forever, in our relationship the fact that I was a sexual deviant.

“No. Not more. Just
they
as in two guys.”

“And you…?”

“
We.
Yes.” The next words out of her mouth had the potential to break me in two and destroy me. Josie knew damn well what I was saying without me saying it. A glimpse of myself in the mirror showed a red-eyed, sobbing mess wearing a mop of crazy, frizzy blonde hair, twisted in sheets that still smelled like both men, their musk and Joe’s citrus scent filling my lungs with a kind of grief that doesn’t go away just because you force it to the back of your mind and pretend it’s not there.

I didn’t want to be sad. I wanted to embrace my anger and dance with it, tell myself they were loser shitheads who were just getting in a good ménage fuck for the fun of it. Yet there was no way that was true. Not after how emotional last night had been.

“Oh, honey,” Josie said. “Do you want a job?”

“A job?”
What?
I pour my heart out to the only person in my life smart enough to understand nuance and weirdness and that pesky threesome aspect, and she offers me not sympathy, not a lecture, not a drop-shipment of five pounds of chocolate, not an exorcism, but a
job
?

“I’ve always told you that if you want to move out here you can, Darla. But you always said you needed a job along with a place to live. I’m changing jobs and can hire someone to work as my office assistant, and I’m offering it to you. The whole shebang – a place to stay and a job. What do you say?”

My mind was reeling from the threesome, from waking up alone, from calling Aunt Josie to get a sympathetic ear and now she was offering me a place to live and a job? In Boston? Trevor and Joe lived in some suburb of the city, so I’d be close to them. And maybe we really could pick up where we left off.

Mama had Jane working for her as a personal aide. Uncle Mike was here enough to help, too. Even if this really was the big old kiss off (
without the kiss
) from Trevor and Joe, maybe it could work.

Absentmindedly, I started picking the $20s up off the floor. After I hit twenty and there were more, I became mesmerized, bending down to get each one until they were all in a neat pile in my hand, all while Josie chattered on about the new job, being a roommate, and something about her best friend having a baby and the business funded by her boyfriend.

$600. There were
thirty
$20 bills there. My ego didn’t know whether to continue to feel slighted or whether it should crow proudly. $600 was a lot of money for a one-night fuck in a threesome.

I guessed.

“And I know you’ll claim you can’t leave Aunt Cathy, but you know that’s just a chickenshit excuse you’ve been using for years to avoid changing your life. You’re too timid, Darla. You need to take more chances.”

I made a strangled sound in my throat, counting the twenties again. Why $600? What did that number mean to them?

It was just all too good to be true, minus the fact that Trevor and Joe had just treated me like a high-end call girl. But it
was
true, and if I didn’t grab the chance while it was being dangled before me, I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life.

Just as I was about to open my mouth and accept, she jumped in and said, “Hint: the correct response is a breathy ‘OMIGOD AUNT JOSIE YOU ARE THE BEST.’” She made a derisive snorting noise that I realized I’d co-opted years ago. “Not this silent, pensive shit.”

“What’s the catch?” My suspicious nature kicked in, well-honed from far too many years of living in this dysfunctional shithole where suspicions was as required a trait as oh, say, breathing.

“No catch. Just start when you come out here, maybe in a week or two?”

“So what’s the company?”

Silence. Josie was never silent.
Ever
. The woman was as constitutionally incapable of being quiet as I was of not making stupid decisions.