FF (February 2013) Q. Kelly - [Strange Bedfellows 2] Three's a Crowd

Carol Thomas is shocked when her fiance comes home late one night with an announcement: he’s gotten back in touch with a college buddy named Ennis Evans, and she's up for a threesome. Carol shoves aside her misgivings and tentatively agrees. She considers herself a prude in many ways and wants to break through her shell. As she gets to know Ennis and experiences an immediate, undeniable attraction, Carol keeps putting off the menage a trois. She begins to wonder if she's gay and falling in love with Ennis. Then the night of the threesome arrives and changes Carol for life. But Carol still has much to learn. She finds out the hard way that Washington is a city known for intrigue and double dealings. Many things aren't what they seem on the surface, and just what is Ennis's connection with Washington's most infamous call girl, Elena Marie Elise?

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Sample

Part 1 Carol Speaks

Chapter One

Patrick’s home. Finally. At nine o’clock, when dinner is cold, and I’ve blown out the candles. He simply breezes in, all bright-eyed and excited. Not one iota weary, like a rookie lawyer who works sixteen-hour days should be. He grabs me and hugs me tight. I’ve not seen him this enthusiastic in weeks, so naturally, I’m wary.
“Hey, babe,” he says, his smile wide. He does not notice the food or the candles. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“Remember you said you’d be up to a threesome?”
I blink. Then I blink some more. “Right,” I finally squeak. “Right.” I can’t believe Patrick remembers this conversation—it was six months ago at a Christmas party, and I thought he was half-joking.
“Well, I’ve found her.”
I swallow. Oh, no. No, no, no. “You have?”
“I asked her to come over tomorrow so you can give your okay.”
“Who is she?”
“Ennis Evans.”
The name is familiar, but I need a few moments to make the connection. “Ennis! Your friend from college?”
“Yup.”
“Wait, so…how’d you find her? And ask her out of the blue to do a threesome? I thought she wasn’t on Facebook.”
Patrick grins and kisses me on the cheek. He notices the food on the table, and he clicks his tongue in approval. “Sweet.” He slides chicken and corn in the microwave then turns to me. “Well, I was at lunch with Crandell about a week ago. She came in, saw me, and we got to chatting. She hasn’t changed a bit. Turns out she moved to D.C. a couple of months ago. So…” Patrick reaches into the microwave and feels the food. He puts more time on the clock. “So we’ve hung out some the past few days. Today, I asked her about the threesome, and she said, yeah, fine, she’d consider it. She’s coming over at eleven tomorrow morning.”
I can only stare at my fiance. I love him so much, I really do. But I do not want a threesome. Not with a man, not with a woman. I want only Patrick and me. However, I want to make Patrick happy, and I’ve always been afraid he views me as a prude in bed. Besides, he seems so, so thrilled at the prospect of this tryst. He and I have grown apart since we moved to D.C. Before then, really. He used to be attentive, caring and concerned. Sometimes he displays flashes of his old self, but his job keeps him bogged down and too busy to care much about me. When we’re together these days, a rare occurrence in itself, he’s content to veg on the couch and basically tune me out.
“Ennis, huh,” I whisper. I am jealous. From what Patrick has told me, her beauty and sense of adventure would put any goddess to shame.
Patrick pulls his plate out of the microwave. He fixes a drink—doesn’t ask if I want anything. He sits at the table and digs into his dinner.
“This is good, babe,” he says. “Hey, come over here. It’ll be all right, you’ll see. It’ll be fun!”
“Right,” I say. “Right. Uh…” I join Patrick at the table. “Tomorrow’s for…”
“Just to meet and see if you guys get along.” He cocks a grin and winks. “But who knows, maybe we’ll all get lucky. Man, this is the best chicken ever! And you’re the best girlfriend ever, Carol.”
“Fiancee,” I mutter.
“Right, fiancee.”

*****

I stack and restack the spoons and forks in the silverware drawer as Patrick and I wait for Ennis to arrive. I have never been this nervous. I can’t believe I’m letting matters get this far—because no way would I do a threesome, right? Right. So why have I been totally smooth smiles and: “Yes, yes, Patrick, it’s all right, I promise. You’re right; it’ll be fun?” I can tell myself all I want that I’ll be capable of following through when the time comes, but that doesn’t mean I’ll actually follow through.
I don’t think I’ve yelled at Patrick in the three years we’ve been together. Maybe I’ve raised my voice once or twice. I have issues, I suppose. Blame my overbearing, hot-tempered parents whom I am loath to mimic in any way. I did most anything to avoid them yelling at me, and it’s a pattern that followed me into my adult life. I want so badly to please people, most of all Patrick. He is incredibly smart, ambitious, handsome and athletic. The entire package, complete with wavy sandy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. I ask myself many times how I got so lucky to be with him. Me, mousy, shy wallflower me. Me who dreads whenever a customer approaches for help at the bookstore.
Yeah, bookstore. I work at Barnes & Noble in Georgetown while Patrick cuts his teeth and collects big bucks as a fledgling attorney at his dad’s firm near the White House.
Ennis has not arrived by eleven-ten, and my heart is about to give out. Patrick seems nonchalant. He’s been glued to ESPN since ten-fifteen. “She’s late sometimes,” he explains.
I have to say something, anything, to keep up the semblance of normalcy. “Is she driving or taking the Metro?” We live in DuPont Circle. Our apartment is only a couple of blocks from the subway, also called the Metro. Parking is a hassle around here.
“Dunno. Hey, Carol, look at this replay. Isn’t that awesome?” Patrick points to a baseball player scaling a fence to prevent a homerun.
“Nice,” I murmur, and wander over to the window. We’re on the third floor, and visitors have to buzz before we let them in.
I glimpse her then. Ennis. Ennis, going up to our building and pressing a button. An aura, a presence surrounds her. I would know her identity even if Patrick hadn’t described her.
Bzzzzzzzzzz!
My stomach clenches, and I want to disappear. But I continue studying the woman Patrick desires to be our number three. She is more than I could have imagined, and I wonder what in the heck Patrick sees in me.
Bzzzzzzzzz!
“She’s here,” Patrick says, and he presses a button by the door. “Ennis? Yeah, come on up.”
Thirty seconds later, there she is in the doorway. She is maybe a couple of inches taller than I am. She has long, wavy reddish-brown hair, cinnamon-colored eyes and a cool smile. She wears no makeup but does not need it. Her lips are full and enticing. The month is June, and her blue tank top and jean shorts show off nothing but pale skin—and a yellow bracelet on her right wrist, a purple bracelet on her left.
Pale skin works on her. She is a human porcelain doll—unblemished and white, so white.
Patrick’s eyes pop out, and he drools. “Ennis, hey! Glad you made it. Hey, Carol, Carol, come over here.”
I do not want to “Come over here.” The degree of my plainness is absurd. I possess ordinary dark hair, ordinary blue eyes and a crooked smile. I am barely five feet five inches tall, and twenty extra-special pounds stick to me like white on rice. Last but not least is my name, as inoffensive a name that could exist: Carol Ann Thomas.
BOOOORING.
Somehow, I shuffle over to Patrick and Ennis, and she checks me out. I try to smile, smilesmileCarol, but I cannot. Not when Ennis’s gaze is roaming my body, not when her lips are tugging downward. Ennis apparently does not like what she sees—which is good in a way—no threesome, right? But it doesn’t do wonders for my self-esteem.
Miss Carol Ann Thomas is disqualified!
“Ennis, this is Carol, my fiancee. Carol, this is Ennis Evans.” Patrick, more or less, pushes us together.
Ennis holds out her hand. “Hello,” she says, and she gives me a little smile. A mischievous, let’s-just-humor-the-boy grin.
I take her hand. I wish she’d say “Hello” again—her voice is deep and rich, but definitely feminine. I love it.
“Hi…hey,” I stammer. “Nice to meet you. So…so you’re Ennis.”
“Who wants drinks?” Patrick asks.
I exhale a huge sigh of relief. “Tequila would be good.”
Patrick chuckles. “It’s not even noon. I meant like coffee. Or soda.”
“Right, of course. Water for me.”

*****

Patrick, Ennis and I chat a bit about superficial stuff. I hate how he looks at her. He is all puppy-eyed and drooling. I am afraid he will leave me for her.
Patrick tires of the chatter after about five minutes and asks Ennis: “So what do you say? Threesome?”
“Sounds good if it’s okay with Carol,” she replies.
They both gaze at me.
I feel like a beet-red deer in headlights. “Sure,” I sputter. “Sure.” I want to ask Ennis why she is doing this, if she’s done threesomes (or foursomes, fivesomes and so on) before, but I’ve been raised not to ask questions.
“When?” Patrick asks.
Ennis shrugs. “Now?”
My heart stops, and Patrick’s eyes go wide.
He recovers first. “Sure! What do you say, Carol?”
I lick my lips. “Now?” I squeak.
Ennis laughs. “Or later. Later is fine, too.”
“Or both,” Patrick interjects with a grin. “Now and later.”
Ennis frowns at this. So do I. “I thought it was just gonna be one time,” I whisper.
Patrick tilts his head. “Sure, hey, we’ll play it by ear. So…so, uh…you sure now’s okay with you, Carol?”
Never is okay with me.
Me: “How is this gonna work?”
Patrick: “Well, I figure you and Ennis can kiss a little bit first. You know, get in the mood and all. Get the foreplay you women like. And then we’ll see how it goes from there.”
I nod slowly and uncertainly. My body screams NONONO, but Patrick really wants this.
“She doesn’t seem very receptive,” Ennis points out.
“Oh, she is. Carol’s cool. She’s a cool cat.”
Hey, guys, I’m here. Yoo-hoo.
“I don’t know,” Ennis counters. “If she doesn’t want to do it, she shouldn’t.”
Patrick sighs. “Tell her, Carol. You’re fine with this, right? You want this too.”
My tongue bloats to thick and clumsy, so I nod.
Patrick beams. “See?”
“Ever been with a woman?” Ennis asks.
“No.”
“Ever wanted to be with a woman?”
I look into Ennis’s eyes, which hold a fair share of green. Not quite cinnamon-colored eyes, after all. In any case, I see no judgment there. Only simple curiosity.
“No,” I lie. See, there was Mickie from high school and Helen from college…but two out of, what, hundreds of women I’ve known? Well, I suppose there were Vicki and Connie in college too, and maybe Addison in high school too…okay, five out of hundreds.
Ennis persists in her questioning: “Ever kissed a woman?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Ennis puckers her lips. “Carol, hey…if you’re not ready to do this now, that’s cool. Just say the word.”
I shiver when Ennis says my name. Carol. Carol. Carol. I want her to say it again. My name becomes an exotic tiger on her tongue. Carol, a name gone wild.
“She’s fine,” Patrick puts in. “She kept saying last night it was fine, really.”
“Right, yes. I’m fine.” It would make Patrick happy, and at least Ennis doesn’t seem like she wants to steal him from me.
Ennis crosses her legs and leans back in her seat on the couch. “All right, then. Let’s get it on.”