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I’m perched on the edge of my bar stool, teetering dangerously between restraint and reckless desire, when Mickey’s voice cuts through the haze of my arousal. “So, Gail,” he purrs, leaning in so close I can feel his breath ghost over my ear, “how about we take this party somewhere… private?”
The suggestion sends a jolt straight to my core. I turn to look at him, taking in his silver eyes that glint with promise, and then to Soren, whose own gaze is heavy with hunger. The air between us crackles with electricity, thick with the scent of leather and masculinity.
“Both of you?” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries all the weight of what they’re suggesting—a ménage à trois.
“Unless you don’t want to be shared,” Soren replies, his hand inching higher up my thigh, sending shivers dancing across my skin. “In which case, we’re out.”
Oh, I want to—I want them both, more than I’ve wanted anything in a long, painfully celibate while. But there’s a niggling voice in the back of my mind, reminding me of my other obligations. “I’m flattered, really,” I start, forcing my next words out like they’re coated in molasses, “but I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Mickey asks, his breath hot on my neck, which does absolutely nothing to help my self-control.
“Both,” I say, even though every fiber of my being screams otherwise. My chest feels tight, like I’m mourning a loss I never had the chance to claim. It’s stupid, it’s infuriating, and it’s so damn unfair.
“Are you sure?” Soren’s voice is soft, coaxing, but behind it, I hear the steel of a man not used to rejection. His fingers brush against mine, and I fight the urge to lace them with my own.
“Very sure,” I lie, my voice unsteady as I pull my hand away from his touch. Their disappointment is palpable, a tangible thing that wraps around us, heavy and suffocating.
“Alright,” Mickey says after a moment that stretches too long, his tone respecting my boundaries even if his eyes still undress me. “If that’s what you want.”
It’s not. God, it’s not. I watch them both, their body language shifting from seduction to an almost respectful distance, and it’s all I can do not to reach out and pull them back to me. “Thank you,” I whisper, because what else is there to say? ‘Please take me home and make me forget my name?’ Not happening.
“Anytime, Gail.” Mickey’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and I feel another piece of my resolve crumble. “You know where to find us if you change your mind.”
They leave me with that, a parting shot that’s more an invitation than a farewell. And as the cool night air replaces the warmth of their bodies, I’m left with a longing so fierce it borders on pain.
Tonight, I walk away. But tomorrow? Tomorrow I have an email to send. Because I think I’d like to find out if threesomes are for me.
Gail
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I spin around in the chair dramatically and point at my dull, light brown hair. “Look at this mess, Luce. I’ve had the same hairstyle all the years you’ve known me. So yes, I’m sure. I need a change. Scratch that; I’m desperate for a change.” The last part comes out as more of a grumble.
It’s time, though. Time for a fresh start, or at the very least, a new haircut and color. I’ve spent all my life taking the safe route at every turn. I’m the girl who did my homework right away, who studied her butt off and barely partied in college. When I got my first teaching job, I created a budget that was so limited I put about forty percent of my paycheck into my savings account.
Apart from some one-night-stands and weekly tequila nights with my bestie, the wildest thing I’ve ever done is pierce my ears and have exactly five non self-induced orgasms in my life. I’m not just a goody two-shoes, I’m boring. Boring and so predictable you can set your clock by my behavior.
“Fine,” Lucia, my best friend and former roommate, laughs while holding her hands up in a placating gesture. “And just for the record, I think you’re going to rock this Cruella de Vil look.”
I burst out laughing at the mention of the Disney villain. “What can I say,” I giggle. “She’s an inspiration to everyone.”
Mika returns after mixing the dye and promptly begins to part my hair. “So, are you wanting it to part in the middle? Or some zig-zag?”
“The middle,” I reply.
Without another word, she perfectly divides my freshly cut hair. I find it difficult to make myself look as she coats one side in the black dye and the other in the white. The annoying voice in the back of my head pipes up, telling me I’m going to regret this. I swallow hard, praying I won’t.
“So, what’s the reason for this drastic change?” Luce asks, meeting my eyes in the mirror.
“Right, I’ll be back to check on you later,” Mika announces. “Just holler if you need anything.”
With her gone, I turn back to Luce, anxiously wringing my hands in front of me. “Remember when I told you the school was firing teachers because of budget cuts?”
Lucia’s eyes widen. “No!” she gasps. “You got fired? When? Why?” She pauses the unrelenting stream of questions, her green eyes darkening. “That’s their fucking loss, sugar. You’re the best. They’ll soon realize the mistake they made, and then they’ll beg you to come back, and—”
“Shut up, buttercup,” I laugh. Seriously, Lucia is the best, always jumping to my defense.
“When did it happen?” she asks, tilting her head to the side while scrutinizing me in that annoying way that tells me she’s put more together than I want her to.
