Just Friends

Back when Matt and I were trying to be lovers, he used to talk dirty to me on the phone, teasing me slowly into orgasms over the course of many long-distance phone calls. Eventually, being lovers didn’t work, especially over a distance of two thousand miles. I finally gave him an excuse to become angry with me and stop returning my phone calls. We made up after a year of silence and now I think of him as a friend. An odd one, maybe. But I think about him and all I think about is how I’d like to be enfolded into his arms.

I’m in New York on business, staying at the Doubletree. I am amazed when I walk into my room. It has a separate bedroom, with a door, and a sitting area with a long, low chaise lounge and an ottoman. I laugh when I see the bed. It’s an iron bed with patina grillwork on the frame. I laugh because one of the fantasies that Matt used to torment me with was a scenario where he would tie me to a bed and have his way with me. “That pussy’s mine,” he’d whisper over the phone, as I masturbated to orgasm after orgasm, hundreds of miles away.

Now here I am in Manhattan, alone again. I’m meeting Matt for dinner but since he and I are just friends now, this lovely bed will go to waste. Oh well. I shower off the airplane grime and change my clothes. I think about how Matt used to talk about waiting for me in a hotel room while I was at a party; how he’d describe undressing me, peeling off my black cocktail dress, sliding my black thong panties over my hips and down my legs. But now, because we are just friends, I throw on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. How times have changed.

Twenty minutes later, I arrive at a Mexican restaurant on the lower West Side. He’s already sitting at a table, drinking a margarita. He gives me a big grin when he sees me. He’s cut his hair, for which I’m glad. I hated the ponytail and moustache he sported for a while. But now here he is, clean-shaven with short blonde hair falling over his blue eyes. He stands up and hugs me. I’m tall, but still I have to go up on my toes. I like this. I like men being taller than me. It makes me feel, for a moment, like I’m not a large clumsy Amazon– an image of myself that I picked up in junior high when I was two feet taller than everyone else.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say. “The plane was delayed.” “That’s OK, babe,” he replies. “Can I get you a margarita?”

At the word “babe,” a tingle runs through my body. He used to call me “babe” when we were more than just friends. I loved it because it let me pretend for a moment that I wasn’t a supercharged, professional, got-everything-together kind of woman. It let me feel that I was, well, a “babe.” I know, it’s politically incorrect to admit that.

“A mineral water,” I tell him, and then, when he raises an eyebrow, “I don’t drink anymore. I thought I told you.”

This is true. I drank a lot when Matt and I were more than just friends. Entire bottles of wine by myself. When I thought he had dumped me, I decided it would be romantic if I drank myself to death. Thankfully, I changed my mind and joined AA instead.

“That’s right,” he said. “You told me that. I’m sorry.” “No need to apologize.”

“Do you mind if I drink?”

“Why would I? You’re not the one with the drinking problem.”

I feel very positive and magnanimous in my sobriety. It’s what got me to re-establish contact with Matt in the first place. I heard about the possibility of him losing his job because his division was being closed down. I sent him an e-mail saying I was sorry and was thinking about him and he wrote back. We made up and now we’re friends.

And now he’s doing what friends do: asking me about my job (boring, although I should be thankful I have it); my relationship with my boyfriend, whom I love but to whom I am no longer attracted; my writing. Then I take the focus off me and ask him about his love life. I play counselor. This is what I’m good at, especially with men. Sometimes it ends up being a way for me to worm myself into their beds, but with Matt, I really want to know. He’s involved in a hopeless romance with some woman fifteen years his junior. Instead of being threatened, I laugh and tease him. I tell him what I think. I begin to get a reaction from him and switch over to flirting mode. I can feel myself doing it. Lowering my head to look up at him mischievously, I smirk, pout, and punch his arm lightly. It’s fun. I feel alive.

“How’s your sex life?” he asks me suddenly.

I find myself entranced with a piñata hanging from the ceiling. I don’t want to talk about myself anymore.

“My, this flan is good,” I say with exaggerated enthusiasm. We both laugh. “That bad, huh?”

I relent. “No, it’s fine.” And then I blurt out, “As long as I fantasize.” It’s as though I’ve been the one drinking margaritas.

“About what?” He grins at me. I’m not going to play. “Oh, you know. The usual.”

“No, I don’t know. Tell me.”

“Matt,” I say primly. “That’s private.” He laughs. “OK, babe.”

Oh, so he’s going to drop it that easily? “You should know what my fantasies are, Matt. You gave them to me. Over the phone. Remember?” I’ve just crossed the line. Now let’s see how he’ll react.

He doesn’t. He sits back, smiling. For some reason, I think he’s relieved. But why? I’m not sure I want to play this game anymore.

“Let’s get a coffee somewhere,” I say. There. Back on safe ground.

Outside the restaurant, he puts his arm around my shoulders. I look up at him.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say, and lean up to give him a quick kiss. It’s a test. He passes. He didn’t try to stretch it out.

We turn back to the street and almost run straight into a young man with dark hair and cheekbones that could cut ice. He’s dressed in jeans and carries a gym bag, like he just came from working out.

“Hey, Rich,” Matt says. “What’s happening?”

I feel a twinge of adrenaline. Rich? My fantasies, the ones Matt gave me, include a Rich. I didn’t realize he actually knew one. Matt introduces me. Pleasantries are exchanged. It’s decided that Rich will join us for coffee.

Over cappuccinos, Rich surprises me. I’m shy with him at first, as I usually am with handsome men. Guys with his looks aren’t usually so funny, so smart. Matt pretends to be bored while we discuss movies. But he’s sitting close to me on the couch. I sink into it and rub up against him.

“Poor Matt, left out of the discussion,” I say. “What would you like to talk about?” “I’m just teasing you.”

“What else is new?”

“You seem to like hanging out with guys,” Rich says. “I get more attention that way.”

“You don’t seem like you need a lot of attention,” he says. “You seem extremely self-sufficient, actually.”

I’m pleased but instead I make a face of displeasure. “Oh Rich, I thought you’d see through my facade. I need lots of attention. Lots. I’m insatiable, in fact.”

Our coffees are finished. But none of us seem to want to separate. Then Matt makes his suggestion.

“Let’s go hang out at this giant hotel room you keep telling us about.”

I feel another shot of adrenaline, of pure fear, like I’m about to do something very bad. “Only if you boys behave yourselves.”

“Scout’s honor,” says Rich.

* * * *

I lead them in. Matt, of course, pokes his head into the bedroom and grins. I feel my face getting warm as I reach past him to pull the door shut.

“The mini-bar is that way,” I tell him. Drinks are poured– they sip tequila. I’m suddenly very thirsty. Rich, ever the gentleman, goes to get ice. While he’s gone, Matt sits down in the chaise lounge and stretches his legs out on the ottoman.

“Come here,” he says, and suddenly I have no will of my own. I squeeze into the chair with him. He looks into my eyes. “It’s good to see you. Every time I do, you become more and more of a babe. Don’t make that face. You are.”

There’s a long pause. My mind is suddenly blank.

“Do you mind if I kiss you, for old time’s sake?” he asks. My heart begins pounding. “No tongue.”

“Sure. No tongue.” I tilt my head up and let him. At first he keeps his lips closed. Then his tongue slips between my lips. The heady fumes of tequila fill my mouth.

“You said no tongue,” I say, but I don’t pull my head away.

“I lied,” he answers, and keeps going.

“Is this going to ruin our friendship?” I whisper.

“No. It will make it better.” I would like to believe him, but my experience with him and others tells me he’s wrong. No matter. I keep kissing him. Then I’m conscious of someone else in the room. Rich.

I pull away from Matt, embarrassed. “Sorry, Rich. Your friend grabbed me.” But Matt doesn’t let me go and Rich only smiles.

“Don’t worry about it. It looked like fun.” He pours me a glass of water, which he sets on the coffee table. He sits down on the ottoman, near our feet.

“It is fun,” Matt says. “She’s a good kisser.” He turns to me. “Rich broke up with his girlfriend recently.” If this is calculated to get my sympathies, it works.

“Oh God,” I say. “Then you don’t need to watch us kissing.” I try again to pull away, but Matt doesn’t break his grip.

“Yes, I do,” Rich says.

* * * *

At times like these, there comes a moment when we make decisions. To decide whether to stay with what is familiar and tell ourselves that we are being good, or to go with the unknown. And though I don’t consciously know it, it’s at this moment that I’ve chosen the latter.

* * * *

“There’s only one problem,” I hear Rich say. Matt and I are kissing deeply now. He has pulled me closer to him. I’m letting him stroke my back, my ass. At Rich’s words, we stop and look at him.

“I’m sitting here thinking how much I’d like to be kissing those beautiful lips myself.”

His words were catnip to me. I’m already wet between my legs, now I feel my cunt lips fill with warmth, soften and open. My heart thuds in my chest. Can’t they hear it? I pull away from Matt and sit at the edge of the chair. I picture myself as supremely benevolent, the Queen of Kisses, bestowing them out of charity and goodwill. I take his face between my hands and lean forward. My lips meet Rich’s and I’ve made another decision.

I start to French kiss him, but he says, “Wait. Slow down.” He puts a hand on my cheek and kisses me gently with his lips closed, and then again. With each new kiss, he begins to slip his tongue a little further between my lips. We begin kissing deeply, his tongue playing with mine. Finally, I pull away.

“There,” I say. “How was that? Do you feel more included now?”

He smiles. “Matt is right. You are a good kisser. I’d like to kiss you again.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Matt says. We both shift our positions so that I’m sitting on the edge of the chair with my back toward him, his legs on either side of me. He puts his hands on my hips.

“One more,” I say to Rich, telling myself that that will be the end of it, but I know I’m wrong. As I kiss Rich, Matt leans forward and slides his hands under my shirt, playing with my breasts. I feel him nuzzle my neck, my ear. He unhooks my bra and gently rubs my nipples. Then he slides one hand down my stomach into my pants. I freeze.

“Is this okay, babe?” He whispers in my ear.

I stare into Rich’s eyes. They are warm and earnest.

For a split second no one moves. Then I put my lips to Rich’s again. Matt’s hand continues its explorations down my pants, under the waistband of my underwear. But because of the jeans it can’t get much farther than that. I shift my hips almost involuntarily, trying to give him access. His other hand leaves my breast and unfastens the buttons of my jeans. He slides his hand back down and discovers the wetness between my legs. I hear his intake of breath and I moan as he caresses my clit. Meanwhile, Rich continues kissing me. My mind is so full of sensations that I can’t think.

Again, I pull away from Rich and lean back into Matt, whose hand is deep inside my wetness. Rich takes off my shoes. He reaches for my jeans.

“We should stop,” I say, but have no will to make that happen. They have to decide. “Is that what you want?” Rich asks me.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, babe,” Matt says. “Let’s go into the bedroom. Let Rich give you a massage. Then you can decide.”

* * * *

In the bedroom, I turn and stand before them. Matt stands behind me and pulls my t-shirt over my head. I let him ease my bra off my shoulders. Rich slides my jeans over my hips and down to the floor, kneeling as he does so. I step out of them. He hooks his fingers into the elastic band of my panties. He smiles at me as he slides them off. I’m completely exposed to both of them. I want to cover myself. He begins stroking my legs. His hands move up the back of my thighs, then around to the front, and he traces the V of my public hair with his thumb. If Matt weren’t holding me up, my knees would have given way by now. I wait for him to put his mouth where his hands are, but he rises instead.

“I’ve got some massage oil in my gym bag,” he says and leaves the room.

Matt turns me around to face him. “Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen,” he says.

“I know.”

He pulls the comforter, blanket, and sheet back from the bed. “Lie down.” He takes off his shirt.

I stretch out on my stomach. Matt stretches out next to me and we kiss. Rich returns to the room with his bag. I turn my head and see that he has also taken off his shirt.

“I’m going to take off my pants,” he says, “so that they don’t cut into you.” He does, and I see the huge bulge under his briefs. I turn away and wonder why. To preserve his modesty? A moment later I feel him straddle me lightly and begin to stroke his hands over my body. Slippery with oil, they glide over my skin and his strong fingers knead my muscles. I sigh with pleasure. “You’re tense,” he tells me. “Relax.”

“Matt, are you bored yet?” I ask, trying to make a joke.

“Not at all,” he answers, smiling. “You have such a beautiful body. Such beautiful skin.”

By now, Rich is finished with my back. He massages my buttocks. He slips a finger between my legs and lets it stop at the opening to my cunt. I groan.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers.

I don’t want him to stop, but he keeps moving down my legs to my feet. “I’ll go to sleep if you work on my feet,” I tell him. I’m not lying.

“We wouldn’t want that,” he says, but he massages them nonetheless. All tension melts out of my body. “Turn over,” he says, finally, and he continues to work on my feet.

Eyes closed, I hear Matt shift on the bed. He takes my wrists in one hand. I open my eyes and see that in his other hand, he is holding a long velvet scarf. He smiles and begins to slowly wrap it around my wrists.

“Let me do this,” Matt says. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know, but…” He covers my mouth with a kiss even while he loops the other end of the velvet through the grillwork of the headboard. It holds my arms above my head, firmly, but not too tightly.

“I want to make your fantasies come true,” he says, smiling at me. I look down to see Rich’s reaction. His eyes gleam.

“Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to happen,” he says again, reaching down into his bag to pull out more velvet ropes. He hands one to Matt. They part my legs gently and tie one ankle loosely to one bedpost and one to the other. There is enough slack so that I can bend my knees. I begin to twist. I feel too exposed.

“Matt, I don’t know about this.”

He slips his jeans off. His erection is huge. He climbs on the bed and stretches out next to me. He kisses me and plays with my nipples.

“Let yourself go,” he says. “You can’t help it.”

He is right. I know they would stop if I became frightened. My heart is pounding in my chest, indeed. But whether it is from fear or excitement, I have no idea. Matt has remembered my fantasy of being tied down. He has remembered the fantasy about Rich. But there’s something more about the fantasy that Matt gave me about Rich. How could I not have realized this sooner? Was it because I didn’t want to? I can hardly breathe.

“Matt, is Rich…is Rich a…?”

Matt laughs. Rich smiles. He has climbed onto the bed and between my legs. “Yeah, babe. Rich’s from an escort service.”

I remember lying on the bed with the phone pressed to my ear while I masturbated furiously, as Matt described sharing me with a male prostitute. A male prostitute named Rich.

And now, I am at their mercy. Matt has made the fantasy real.

“Oh Matt, I can’t believe you did this.”

“We can stop anytime you want. This is all up to you.”

“Do you want me to go?” Rich asks, kissing my knees, the inside of my thighs, my belly.

There is a long silence. There is a voice in my head saying, Good girls don’t do this. This is beyond the pale. This will come back to haunt you.

I look at Matt. “What if this doesn’t work?” I hear Rich laugh. “It will work,” he says.

I look at him. Suddenly, practical thoughts enter my head. I have to ask. “Are you…Is this going to be…?

It’s as if he has read my mind. “I’m straight. I only do women. And it will all be safe sex.

Don’t worry.”

They are both looking at me. Neither man has stopped touching me. Their hands are everywhere– stroking my nipples, my ass, my legs. I look up at Matt. I can’t say the words. But he understands. He knows my answer. He smiles but then his face becomes quite serious.

“Rich will do anything I tell him to,” Matt says. “And I’m going to tell him to do a lot to you. I hope you’re ready.”

I look back at Rich, who is still rubbing his hands up and down my legs, brushing my pubic hair lightly. He smiles at me, that same smile, warm and implacable.

“Yes,” I say, my voice hardly above a whisper.

* * * *

Matt continues. “First, I think I’d like Rich to lick your pussy.”

Rich obeys, but he doesn’t dive right in. No. He kisses my pussy gently, like he kissed my other lips earlier. Then I feel his tongue slip between my cunt lips and barely touch my clitoris. I moan and arch my back, straining against the rope that holds my hands.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Matt says. His fingers are playing with my nipples.

“You taste beautiful,” Rich says. He reaches down into his gym bag and pulls out a square of latex. I’ve never seen a dental dam before. I know that we must do this, yet I’m afraid that it will numb the feeling I’ve just had, the feeling of his tongue on me. But he manages to make this act erotic, spreading my cunt lips apart and stroking the latex into place. He puts his tongue back between my legs and I feel its soft, insistent pressure as strong as a finger, flicking back and forth across my clit.

“Do you like that?” Matt asks me. “Oh God, yes.”

“Good. Rich, put a finger into her. I want to see you fill her up.”

Rich obeys. He slides the index finger of his right hand into my already sopping cunt and moves it in and out slowly.

“I think you should put another finger into her. Into her ass, though.” I moan. There is something about having a man touch my asshole that seems taboo, which only makes it even more exciting.

Rich puts his middle finger into my cunt. At first, I think he’s misunderstood Matt. But when he pulls it out, I realize that he has just been wetting it with my juices. He then slides it down to the entrance of my asshole. I think I’m going to come right then.

“Not so fast,” he says, taking his mouth from my cunt. “I think she needs something bigger in her,” he tells Matt. “A big cock.”

“Do it,” Matt says. “Get her ready for yours.”

Rich reaches into his bag again and pulls out a large, pink, life-like dildo. He puts his hands back on me, touching my ass, but he puts the dildo at the entrance of my cunt. He looks to Matt. “Do you want it?” Matt asks me. “Do you want that big dildo in you?” I can only nod. “Of course you do.”

He nods to Rich, who very slowly slides the dildo into me. He lowers his head back to my cunt and resumes licking as he fucks me with the dildo. With each push of the dildo, he slides his finger a little deeper into my ass. Matt begins to gently suck on my nipples and I hear my own moans grow louder. As if in response, Matt covers my mouth with his lips. My arms strain against the velvet ropes.

“I’m going to come,” I say, pulling my mouth away. I can’t believe it’s happening this fast.

Sometimes it takes as much as an hour before I can climax.

“That’s good,” Matt says. “I want to see you. I missed out on that before.”

Before. Yes, when we almost became lovers. A memory flashes through my mind– of me on a different hotel bed and of Matt parting my legs. I stare at him and then I come. I throw my head back and cry out as the waves course through my body. I forget about the ropes holding my hands. As the orgasm subsides, Rich slows his licking. Then he pulls the dildo out of my cunt and his finger out of my ass. They are both grinning at me.

* * * *

“We’re not done with you,” Matt says. Rich is untying my ankles from the bedpost. Almost instinctively, I close my legs. I think I see him smirk. Matt positions himself on his left side so that his cock is level with my face. Gently, he puts his hand on my cheek and turns my head. He presses the tip of his penis against my lips. I part them and take his cock into my mouth. I know that if my hands were free I could do more, but as it is, I just lick the tip and then begin sucking.

“Oh God,” he says, moaning. “I forgot how good those lips were.” I look up and see that his eyes are closed in pleasure. I want my hands free so that I can stroke his ass, his balls. Then almost reluctantly, he pulls himself out of my mouth. He flips himself so that he is lying on his right side, his face even with my hips and his cock again at my mouth. “Keep sucking it, babe,” he says, and I comply. I’m afraid that my arms are going to cramp. Then I feel his hand caress my stomach.

“Are you ready to be fucked good and hard?” he asks me.

I forget about the ropes and the numbness in my arms. “Oh, God, yes. Fuck me.”

“Not yet. I’m going to let this male hooker fuck you first. I’m going to share you with him.” I pull away from his cock and look down. Rich has a condom wrapper in his hand. Another adrenaline rush hits me. I watch, my heart racing, as he opens the wrapper. To me, the moment when a man puts a condom on is one of the most exciting moments in sex. It means that the sex is about to happen; that I’m about to be fucked. But by this stranger?

Rich spreads my legs and puts his knees between them. He positions his cock where I can feel it at the entrance of my cunt. It’s wet from the recent orgasm and getting wetter. Rich places his hands on either side of me and braces himself above me.

“Put it in just a little,” Matt says.

Rich does, and I moan. My pelvis moves against him involuntarily but he pulls back. “Do you like that?” Matt asks me. “Do you like being fucked by a stranger?”

“Yes,” I say. “Yes.”

“Do you want him to do it more?” “Yes.”

Then Matt begins rubbing my clit. For a moment I think, No, it will be too sensitive. I’m surprised to feel sensations of pleasure once again.

“Put it in a little more,” Matt orders Rich and he complies. I know that Matt can see everything from his vantage point. It makes me feel even more exposed, more powerless, and at the same time, more turned on.

Rich begins to slowly fuck me. We stare into each other’s eyes. I wonder how many women he’s looked down on like this. My ego rises up inside me. I tighten my vagina around his cock. His eyes widen and his face contorts momentarily in ecstasy before he composes himself. I want to put my hands on his ass and pull him to me.

“She’s good,” he tells Matt. “I’m going to have to do her slow.”

“I want to do her mouth,” Matt answers. He moves up the bed, stroking my side with his stiff cock. Softly, he brushes my cheeks with it. Rich lifts one hand from the bed and again turns my cheek to Matt’s erection, which I take between my lips.

“Oh God, she’s sucking you really good,” Rich tells him. I’m pleased and overwhelmed by sensations as Matt begins rubbing me harder.

“You’re going to come with his cock in you,” he says.

Rich’s thrusts become more even, slow and hard, as Matt’s finger rubs faster and faster.

Even though Matt’s penis fills my mouth, I’ve stopped sucking and have started moaning.

I come again, slamming my pelvis against Rich. I open my eyes in time to see the look of surprise on his face and I know that he is coming, too. Matt pulls his hand away so that Rich can collapse on top of me. We are both sweating.

He rolls off, panting hard. “That doesn’t usually happen,” he says to the ceiling.

Matt laughs. “I’d better see what all the fuss is about.” He shifts position and gets a condom.

I look at him in surprise. “I said we were going to share you,” he reminds me.

I realize again that my arms are aching. “Untie me,” I say. Matt begins to reach for the rope but Rich is there first. I lower my freed arms and Rich rubs them while Matt slips his condom on.

Once suited up, he spreads my legs again. I gasp as I feel his still-hard cock slide into my wetness. Then he’s looking down on me. “You’re so wet,” he says. “You’re so, so wet.”

“I didn’t think this was ever going to happen,” I say. Indeed, I didn’t. A few years before, it was all I could think about. But Matt had been the one who wanted to wait to consummate our relationship. We’d taken it right up to the edge before he pulled back, perhaps sensing the intensity of my neediness. The further he pulled back, the faster I came at him, until I no doubt drove him away. Now– when I least expected it, when I had completely embraced the idea of us just being friends– it happens.

Now while Rich watches, Matt fucks me slowly, hard. “I knew this would feel good. I knew it.” He turns me over and pulls me onto my elbows and knees. I feel him enter me from behind. He grabs my ass cheeks hard and the pace of his thrusts quicken. “You have such a great ass,” I hear him say.

“I want to see you come,” I tell him. He flips me over and enters me again.

“That’s it,” he moans. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” And then he comes, his body shuddering, his face even more contorted then Rich’s.

* * * *

Later that night, I wake up. Matt sleeps beside me, breathing quietly. I hear the toilet flush. Rich enters the room and begins to collect his things. I watch him dress. He glances over at the bed and sees me.

“Hi,” he whispers. “Hi.”

He finishes dressing and comes over to my side of the bed. He kisses me on the lips. “Bye,” he says. “Take care of yourself.”

“Do I need to…?” I can’t believe I’m about to offer to pay him. “Nope. All taken care of.” He heads for the door.

“Wait,” I don’t know quite what I’m doing, but I get out of bed and follow him out of the bedroom to the door of the suite. He looks at me questioningly. I put my arms around his neck and kiss him deeply.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“For making one of my wildest fantasies come true.”

“Matt made it come true. Not me.”

I hear the voice in my head ask, So this was just another job to you? I mentally kick myself. Surely he’s heard that question before. And I’m sure he tells them all they were special. So I take a step back. “Thanks anyway,” I say.

“Any time.”

“Really?” I say teasingly.

He gives me a strange look. Suddenly, he drops his bag and grabs me. We begin kissing madly, almost as though we were trying to devour each other. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. He takes me back into the sitting room and together we fall onto the armchair. He fumbles with his pants, then fumbles with a condom, and then he is in me again. Our sex is even more intense this time because we have made a silent agreement to be quiet. This is no performance. He never takes his eyes from mine. Finally he comes, and lies against me.

“That was on the house,” he whispers in my ear. “That was for me.” A tremor goes through me. “How do I know that?”

“Because. Because I want to see you again.”

* * * *

Rich is gone. I crawl back into bed beside Matt, who stirs in his sleep and reaches over to me. “How are you?” he asks groggily, pulling me to him. Here is another fantasy come true: me enfolded in his arms, safe.

“I’m fine,” I say, despite the other fantasy’s unexpected turn. Can one cheat with a male prostitute on someone who is just a friend? Why do I want so badly for him to leave, to not be there when I wake up in the morning? And then the feeling subsides. “Thanks for tonight.”

“What are friends for?” Matt says, and goes back to sleep.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-046-6

This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.