BANG UP

A novel by Jeff Strand

Bang Up copyright 2018 by Jeff Strand

Cover design by Lynne Hansen http://www.LynneHansenArt.com

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's perverted imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Seriously. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author.

For more information about the author, visit http://www.JeffStrand.com

Subscribe to Jeff Strand's free monthly newsletter (which includes a brand-new original short story in every issue) at

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Acknowledgements

Though they will deny reading this smut, thanks to Tod Clark, Donna Fitzpatrick, Lynne Hansen, Kenzie Jennings, Jim Morey, Rhonda Rettig, and Paul Synuria II.

1

"You want to pay me to sleep with your wife?"

The man nodded.

"Mind if I ask why?"

"Introductions first." The man stuck out his hand. "I'm Ralph."

Kirk Bammins didn't particularly want to shake this guy's hand, but he also didn't want to be impolite. The man was about forty, heavyset, and his white t-shirt was soaked with sweat even though the restaurant had the air conditioner blasting. He had a couple of days' worth of stubble, not in a stylish way, and wore a blue baseball cap. "Kirk."

"Nice to meet you. I bet you don't get a lot of propositions like this at a pancake place, do you?"

"No," said Kirk. "I do not."

"Me either. Anyway, here's the deal: I wanna give you a thousand bucks, cash money, to do my wife. Five hundred bucks up front, and another five hundred when the dirty deed is done."

Kirk could not conceive of how repulsive this woman must be for her husband to be soliciting complete strangers (at generous rates!) to service her. He could really, really use a thousand bucks, but the offer was not even remotely tempting.

"You're swingers?"

"Nah, nothing like that. I won't be on the other end of her, and I'm not gonna sit in the corner and whack it while I watch or anything kinky like that." Ralph took out his wallet, flipped it open, and showed Kirk a picture. "This is Julie."

The woman in the picture was not even remotely repulsive. She was blonde, beautiful, and quite frankly, far too well-groomed to be with somebody like Ralph.

"Nice," said Kirk.

"Hell yeah, nice. You should see her body. Hopefully you will see her body."

"Will it offend you if I say that you're being kind of creepy?"

"Am I? Oh, jeez, I'm sorry. I've never done this kind of thing before."

"So what's the deal?"

Ralph sighed. "Me and Julie, we're coming up on our tenth wedding anniversary. She's quite a bit younger than me. How old are you? Thirty?"

"Twenty-nine."

"She's thirty-one. Looks younger. Lately I feel like she's getting kind of restless, you know what I mean? She wasn't a virgin when we got married but she was pretty close. Last week she was on her computer and I caught her switching screens really fast when I walked into the room. She's on one of those dating sites."

"Did you ask her about it?"

Ralph shook his head. "Nah. She'd talk her way out of it. She's a good talker. By the end of the conversation I'd feel like I was the one planning to cheat."

"So you think your wife is looking for sex outside of your marriage, and to address this problem, you want to hire me to have sex with her?"

"Yeah."

Kirk considered the matter for a moment. "I suppose if she's going to take another lover anyway, you might as well pick the guy. It makes sense from that perspective. Are you looking for a one-night thing or would I be signing some kind of long-term contract?"

"That's not where I was going with this."

"Oh."

"Julie is never going to know about our arrangement. You're going to seduce her, and she's going to think it's something that happened naturally."

"Not gonna lie. The logic here is eluding me."

"How are your pancakes?" Ralph asked.

"They're good. Very good. Fluffy."

"I'm picking up the check even if you turn down my offer, since I interrupted your meal."

"That's very generous of you. I appreciate that."

Ralph cleared his throat. "I'm going to lay this all out for you. I want you to approach my wife at a location to be determined later, woo her, bring her back to a hotel room that I'll pay for, and have unsatisfying sex with her."

"Unsatisfying?"

"Right. I want you to fumble around. I want you to paw at her breasts like a teenaged boy who doesn't know what the hell he's doing. Pinch her nipples too hard. Refuse to go down on her because it's icky. Act like you can't find the clitoris. Take forever to get hard, and then finish up in ten seconds when you finally do. In fact, if you can finish before you even slide in, that would be awesome. Come in her hair—she hates that. I want it to be a complete disaster of a sexual experience. If she ends up in bed with a guy like you—and I think we both agree that you look like you can fuck like a porn star—and it's an awkward, unsatisfying, embarrassing disappointment, she'll quit looking."

Kirk just stared at him, his pancakes forgotten.

"What do you think?" Ralph asked.

"I need time to process this."

"Want me to repeat it?"

"No, no. God, no. How much time did you spend coming up with this plan?"

"I just thought of it when I saw you sitting in this booth."

"Maybe you should sleep on this."

"I know it sounds crazy—"

"Yep."

"—but I truly believe that it'll work. You're her type. You're her exact type. Look at those muscles—you don't even need to flex them to see how big they are. Long dark hair? Check. Piercing blue eyes? Check. Your shirt's buttoned up too much but we'd fix that before the seduction. You look like you could be on the cover of a romance novel. Are you a fireman? A cowboy?"

"I work retail."

"How the hell does somebody who looks like you work retail?"

"Attractive people can have shitty jobs too."

"Well, you're not going to tell her that. We won't go with fireman or cowboy, because she reads those books non-stop and she'd know if you got a detail wrong, but we'll come up with a job that's credible but hot."

"Bartender?"

"That could work."

"May I make a comment about your offer?" Kirk asked.

"Sure."

"It's fucked up. It is literally the most fucked up thing anybody has ever asked me to do. And I don't mean that it's slightly more fucked up than the most fucked up thing anybody has ever asked me to do, I mean that it's significantly more fucked up. If you'd come over here and asked me to kill your wife, that would've been less fucked up."

"I disagree," said Ralph.

"It would've been more evil, but less fucked up."

"If you murdered her, you'd have sleepless nights of guilt. That's no small thing. I've never killed anybody but I assume it does a number on you."

"I'm not talking about morality," said Kirk. "I'm talking about a state of being fucked up. An hour from now, when you reflect back on this conversation, you're going to say, 'Oh my God, I can't believe I approached that guy. How did the trajectory of my life bring me to that point?'"

"You might be right."

"I am. No way will you look back fondly on this encounter."

"You're turning down a thousand bucks?"

"Yes, sir."

"You can't see them in the picture, but her breasts are magnificent. Firm and unenhanced. There are far worse ways to make a grand. Technically, you should be paying me."

"I'm sure they feel delightful," said Kirk. "I'd love the paycheck, but I'm not going to be scamming your wife into inept sex. It's just not something I was born to do. I wish you all the best in your search."

"How about we revisit the issue tomorrow?" asked Ralph. "We'll exchange contact information and I'll be in touch in the morning to see if you've changed your mind."

"Hard pass."

"What would it hurt?"

"It would mean that I gave my contact information to somebody who comes up to strangers eating pancakes and offers to pay them to bone his wife."

"You make a fair point," Ralph admitted. "I knew it was weird when I came over here, but I figured the pay rate would outweigh that. A thousand bucks for sex where you don't even have to perform well. I guarantee you that if I went from person to person making that offer, almost every guy would accept."

"Are you going to go from person to person making that offer?"

"No."

"Smart."

"Anyway, I'll go back to my own table. Bring your check over when you finish and I'll pay for it."

"You could just tell the server that you're buying my breakfast," said Kirk. "Then I wouldn't have to go over to your table."

"Now you're being rude."

"Rude would be telling you to fuck off."

"Are you telling me to fuck off?"

"Yes."

Ralph went back to his own booth.

Kirk couldn't believe it. What kind of mentally ill person would do that kind of thing? Did he really, truly, honestly believe that Kirk was going to say "Sure! Just point me in the direction of her vagina and I'm on the job!"? He couldn't even share this anecdote with his friends because nobody would believe it.

A thousand bucks...

It wouldn't solve his financial problems but it would put a dent in them. How much did a professional gigolo make? Surely it wasn't a thousand bucks for one session. He was between girlfriends, so it wasn't like he'd be cheating on anybody. (Myra, his friend with benefits, was prone to jealousy, even though that was supposed to be the opposite of how their relationship worked, but she'd get over it.) And if this plan did successfully dissuade Ralph's wife from seeking an online hookup, nobody had to worry that she'd end up bound and gagged in the trunk of somebody's car. He might be saving her life.

Okay, once he started getting into excuses like "he might be saving her life," he was trying to delude himself. There would be nothing admirable about this gig if he took it.

How had this become "if" he took it?

A thousand bucks for an evening's work. He wouldn't enjoy the humiliation of the bad sex element, but there was still fun to be had with the task. Maybe he shouldn't be so quick to decline.

Kirk got up and walked over to Ralph's booth. He sat down across from him. "Will you do fifteen hundred?"

"No."

"Twelve hundred?"

"A thousand is already a ridiculously high price."

"Eleven hundred?"

"Honestly, this should be a minimum wage job."

"I'm not doing it for less than eleven hundred," said Kirk.

"If you'll do it for eleven hundred, you'll do it for a thousand."

"If you'll pay a thousand, you'll pay eleven hundred."

Ralph smiled. "I may just drop it to nine-fifty."

"Okay, I'll give you my e-mail address."

2

Kirk sat naked on his couch with Myra straddling him. Normally he followed the "my eyes are up here" rule when speaking to a woman, but her bare breasts were right in his face, and to look up into her eyes would've given him a crick in his neck.

"So this guy offered me a thousand bucks to sleep with his wife," he told her.

Myra continued to bounce on his lap. "How much?"

"A thousand."

"That's a lot."

"I know."

"It would mean you're a prostitute."

"Is that bad?" Kirk asked.

Myra shrugged. "You'd be a high class call boy instead of a crack whore, but you're still a hooker. I'm sure not paying you."

"I wouldn't ask you to."

"What's the hubby planning to do? Wear a gimp suit and spank himself while he watches?" Myra put her hands on Kirk's shoulders as she continued riding him.

"He's not going to be there."

"Is it a birthday present for her?"

"No."

"Erectile dysfunction?"

"He didn't say."

"Just some perv?"

"It's complicated."

"You told him no, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you wanna switch to doggy-style?" Myra asked.

"I thought we were talking."

"We can still talk."

"Not while I'm doing you from behind."

"We talk all the time when we're in doggy-style."

"Not real conversations. I just ask if you like what I'm doing."

"Well, since this discussion isn't about anything life-threatening, maybe it can wait until we're finished?"

"All right, all right."

Myra climbed off of him and then, staying on the couch, got on her hands and knees. Kirk grabbed her hips and thrust into her. She squealed with pleasure. They went at it without speaking for a couple of minutes.

"What did he say when you told him no?" Myra finally asked.

"He wanted my contact information."

"I hope you didn't give it to him."

"I gave him my e-mail address."

Myra glanced back over her shoulder at him. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"It's a thousand bucks."

"You're gonna do it?"

"No, probably not."

"I can't believe you're considering it. Fuck me harder. Don't get yourself mixed up in this kind of crazy shit."

Kirk began thrusting more vigorously. "It's a bad idea, but I need the money."

"It's a terrible idea."

"I know."

"I can't believe I'm fuck-buddies with a guy who would consider something like that. Now you've spoiled the mood. Slap my ass to get it back."

Kirk spanked her as he pounded away. He'd known Myra was going to be against the idea, and he wasn't sure why he'd brought it up in the first place. He was seeking reassurance about a decision that nobody would say was wise. When a guy like Ralph showed up at your table, you declined his offer. That's the way intelligent people behaved. There was no debating this matter.

Still, it would be the first time in recent memory that he could pay more than the minimum on his credit card balances.

Easy work. And he'd make sure it was only humiliating for him, not her.

He couldn't believe he was actually considering this, but...he was.

"Are you even concentrating back there?" Myra asked.

Kirk gave her his full attention until she did her standard move of reaching back to finish herself off while encouraging him to thrust into her at maximum velocity and depth. After she came, he followed right away. They both collapsed onto the couch, out of breath.

After Kirk walked out of the bathroom, having disposed of his condom, Myra already had her panties back on.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked.

"Was today a snuggle day? I thought those were Thursdays."

"No, but you don't usually stampede out of here."

"I'm not stampeding. I'm putting on clothes first. Have you seen my bra?"

"By the door, I think."

"Oh, thanks." Myra went over to the front door of his apartment. The bra was on the floor there because, as usual, there had been no real preamble before they got down to business. She bent over to pick it up, which was an arousing sight even though his hand had been on her naked ass mere moments before. Normally she would have played up the visual, but this time she just scooped up the bra and started to put it on.

"Are you angry?" Kirk asked.

"Why would I be angry?"

"The whole thousand dollars to fuck some guy's wife thing."

"If you want to whore out your bod, it's your right."

"See, that sounds like something an angry person would say."

Myra returned to the couch for the rest of her clothes. "We have a no strings attached relationship. I can't stop you from doing weird spooky illegal stuff. I'm not jealous. I hope you have a good time and that she's very pretty. Maybe you'll luck out and her ass won't be exit-only."

"Yeah, you're mad."

"So I'm mad. So what? You're not my boyfriend. All I do is come over and fuck you twice a week. Your penis is yours to do with as you wish."

"Would it help if I was being paid to be an awful lover?"

Myra stopped in the process of tugging on her jeans. "Excuse me?"

"He wants me to be inept. Do everything wrong. I think it's to make him look good by comparison."

"That is really—"

"—fucked up. I know."

"Don't do any drugs while you're with her."

"I never do drugs."

"I know, but these are obviously the kind of people who do do drugs, and they're the kind of people you should most definitely not be doing drugs with." She finished wiggling into her jeans and put on her shirt.

"I still haven't told him yes."

"Good. You should tell him no."

"Maybe I will."

"Could you do me a huge favor, Kirk?"

"Of course."

"However this turns out, tell me that you didn't take the job. Look straight into my eyes and lie to me. Say 'Gosh, Myra, I realized that it was completely insane to even consider that idea, much less share it with you, and I told him no, absolutely not, not a chance, don't bother me again or I'll cut you.' Practice the lie in the mirror if you have to. There is no scenario where I want to know that you had gross sex with some deviant's wife. I don't want to lose what we've got here, but I couldn't let you touch me again knowing you'd been so icky. Keep me ignorant."

"I get what you're saying," said Kirk. "But if I tell him no, and tell you I told him no, you'll think I could be lying."

"I'd prefer that to knowing you said yes."

"I'd rather you know that me telling him no was the truth."

"I can't take the risk of knowing that you told him yes."

"I don't like this idea."

"We're not lovers," said Myra. "We're friends with benefits. Our relationship doesn't need a foundation of honesty."

"I'm going to tell him no," said Kirk.

"Yes, just like that. You've got the idea."

"I mean that I'm genuinely going to tell him no."

"You didn't even have to practice. You're good at this." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "See you Thursday?"

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"Correct. But you can't squeeze the toothpaste back into the tube."

"Fine. Yeah, I'll see you Thursday."

* * *

When Kirk received an e-mail from Ralph asking if he'd reconsidered, Kirk decided that, to be respectful, he should decline the offer in person.

Once he'd decided that, he was forced to admit to himself that, yes, he would be taking the thousand bucks.

3

"You're doing the right thing," said Ralph, sliding an envelope across the table to Kirk. This time they were in a bar, which seemed like a more appropriate location to be discussing such a seedy matter.

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure that I'm not," said Kirk.

Ralph shrugged. "Still, a thousand bucks is a thousand bucks."

"Yeah, and a duck-billed platypus is a duck-billed platypus. What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means that..." Ralph thought for a moment, then frowned. "I dunno, I guess it means you should be happy that you'll have a thousand bucks. What changed your mind?"

"Realizing that my self-respect was an illusion."

"I totally understand."

"I bet you do."

"You should move the envelope off the table."

Kirk took the envelope off the table, folded it, and shoved it into his pocket. It felt good to have five hundred dollars in his pocket all at once. It was not a sensation he'd ever experienced before.

"How is this going to work?" Kirk asked.

"Book club. The first Tuesday of every month, which is tomorrow, Julie goes to the library to discuss some fancy-ass book, usually some crap that takes place in the olden days. You're going to go, and you're going to agree with the points she makes. You're going to make her feel smart as shit. They don't allow booze in the library, so when it's over you're going to ask if she wants to continue the book discussion over a glass of wine. You'll take her out, crank the charm up to ten, and when you feel like the moment is right, you'll invite her back to a hotel room. After that, you'll be an incompetent lay, and your job is done."

"So I have to read a book?"

"Yeah."

"I want an extra hundred bucks if there's reading involved," said Kirk.

Actually, Kirk was an avid reader, though his tastes ran more to mysteries and thrillers than historical fiction. But he suspected that a guy like Ralph was no fan of the written word, and he'd agree that having to read a book justified hazardous duty pay.

"You can skim it," said Ralph.

"If I'm trying to seduce your wife, that'll require full comprehension of the book. I'll probably have to read it twice. I'll have to underline key passages."

Ralph shuddered. "Okay, okay, I'll throw in an extra hundred bucks for the reading part."

"By the way, it doesn't need to be a hotel. I live alone."

"I don't want her at your place. Too intimate. Tell her you still live with your parents."

"If I tell her that I'm almost thirty and still live with my parents, she's not going to want to go to a hotel with me, either."

"Then tell her you have a roommate."

"Again, if I'm almost thirty and I can't have a lady over because I've got a roommate, I'm not getting laid. I've only seen the one picture, but Julie looks like somebody who prefers the mattress to be on an actual bedframe."

Ralph sighed with frustration. "Tell her you have relatives visiting from out of town."

"So I'm abandoning my relatives to hook up with somebody?"

"For fuck's sake, tell her they're fumigating your place!"

"That's an obvious lie."

"Who cares if it's an obvious lie? She's committing adultery. She'll be lying, too!"

"Fair enough," said Kirk. "What if she doesn't want to come back to the hotel?"

"Ask if you can see her again, and set up another date. It might take two or three tries. I'll reimburse you for food and drinks, but, y'know, keep it reasonable."

"And what if she's not interested in getting drinks with me?"

"If Julie won't bang you, then it's safe to say that she won't bang anyone but me, and I'll know that I overreacted. Win for me, I guess."

"How far do I push it?" Kirk asked. "Just to be clear, no means no. I'm not touching her without enthusiastic consent."

"Oh, yeah. That's a given. The whole point is that she wants you bad. Charm her out of her panties but leave her drink alone. Don't be pushy or desperate."

"Do I still get paid if nothing happens?"

Ralph nodded. "If you make it to the third date and she doesn't jump your bones, you'll get the other five hundred bucks."

"People still say 'jump your bones'?"

"Sure, why wouldn't they?"

"I dunno. I hadn't heard it in a while. I assumed it had been retired."

"Some phrases will never die."

"What about doing stuff but not actually inserting?" Kirk asked. "Let's say our first date goes well but she's not ready to go all the way yet. When do I start the ineptitude?"

"The phrase 'going all the way' has definitely been retired," said Ralph.

"No, it hasn't."

"That died in the '80s."

"We must run in different circles."

"I guess so. Do you still say 'boff'?"

"I never said boff," Kirk told him. "Never."

"That's a shame."

"Getting back to my question. What if she's not ready for sex but wants to make out? Should I be slobbery?"

"I hadn't thought about that," Ralph admitted. "No, bring your A-game until you're actually in bed. I won't get my money's worth if she's disgusted by you before she decides to sleep with you."

"Got it."

"Any other questions?"

"Are you going to confront her about it afterward?"

"Nope."

"What if she confesses?"

"She won't."

"If she's never cheated on you before, she might be so wracked with guilt that she tells you what she did. I need to know how you'll react."

"Are you asking if I'll beat the shit out of her?"

"I was thinking more about yelling and screaming. But the proper answer is that you'll give her a hug and tell her that you forgive her. You won't try to make her feel like garbage. You won't hold this over her head. You will work it out peacefully and then you will never bring it up again."

"Agreed," said Ralph.

"I'm very serious about this," said Kirk. "I will be doing a follow up. If I find out that you turned into an angry husband, I will put you in the hospital. That's not an empty threat. I'm not saying that I'll kill you, but there will be broken bones galore."

Ralph's eyes narrowed. "Are you threatening me?"

"Yes. I mean, I literally just said that it wasn't an empty threat. Those were my exact words. I'm absolutely threatening you. I wasn't trying to tiptoe around it."

Ralph took a drink of his beer. "All right."

"All right, meaning you're cool with the idea that I'm going to put you in the hospital if you don't immediately forgive her?"

"Yeah. I get what you're saying."

"I'm not bluffing. I'll follow up. And micro-aggressions count."

"You have nothing to worry about. I think this will bring Julie and I closer together."

"I hope it does," said Kirk. "So her book club is tomorrow night?"

"Yep. You've got some homework."

4

Margarite's Dilemma was a historical romance about a young woman named Margarite who would presumably encounter some sort of dilemma, though the narrative hadn't reached that point yet. There was a lot of description of dresses in it, as if the author had treated her research on 1850's dresses like a butcher who was determined to use every single part of the pig. There were also a lot of odd similes.

As Kirk sat in bed and read, slowly and with much mental pain, he tried to locate snippets of dialogue he could quote to impress Julie. Unfortunately, nothing these characters said bore any resemblance to anything a real-life human being would ever utter, regardless of the century, and if she didn't get the reference he'd just sound like a douche.

Was he a bad person for agreeing to do this?

Yes. Indeed he was. But he was a bad person with a thousand bucks.

He struggled with the book until 2:30 AM, at which point he decided he'd better go to sleep since he had to be up at 7:00. If this went well, maybe he could get out of being a cashier by starting his own business.

Inept Husbands: Is Your Wife Shopping Around For Alternative Penises? I'll Make You Look Good By Comparison! No Watersports. Reasonable Rates.

Kirk had his usual recurring dream where he was in a hot tub with a trio of supermodels, although in this incarnation of the dream they all decided to cover each other with whipped cream and chocolate sauce, which made the hot tub water all mucky and spoiled the mood, so everybody just left the tub and quietly retreated to individual showers.

The next day at work was fine. Three people made the joke, "I guess it's free!" when an item wouldn't properly scan (half the usual number) and Kirk pretended to be delightfully amused each time.

When he got home, he took a long and thorough shower, then put on his most seductive dark blue dress shirt and a pair of black slacks. He spent ten minutes making sure it looked like he'd woken up that morning with flawless hair. Cologne was always risky, so he decided to go with his natural scent. He'd leave it to others to gauge his level of physical attractiveness, but he'd done everything he could to make himself enticing to a restless spouse.

He spent another hour making sure he could speak intelligently about the book, then drove to the library.

The book club was in a small conference room. There were chocolate chip cookies on the table that looked homemade, along with a bowl of punch and some plastic cups. Three women, all significantly older than Julie, were seated in the room. They did not look unhappy to see Kirk.

"Am I in the right place for the book club?" he asked.

"You certainly are," said one of the ladies, patting the empty seat next to her.

Kirk sat down. Julie wasn't here yet, but he was a few minutes early, so that was nothing to worry about.

"We're thrilled to see a new face," said the woman next to him. "What made you decide to join us?"

"I'm all about discussing literature," said Kirk. "And Margarite's Dilemma is one of my all-time favorite books. I could analyze those themes until the cows come home."

"Very nice. Help yourself to cookies and punch."

Kirk took a couple of cookies and a full cup of punch. An unexpected fringe benefit of the job. He made small talk with the ladies as a couple of other women entered the room, all of whom seemed very pleased to see the male stranger in their midst.

"Well, it's six o'clock, so we'll get started," said a woman who didn't seem to realize that they couldn't start yet because Julie hadn't arrived. The cookies were really fucking good, but not so fucking good that he wanted to be trapped here for a couple of hours without her.

The door opened, and Julie walked in. She was about ninety percent as attractive as her picture, which was an amazing accomplishment. Kirk was not the type of person to look at a woman and think, "Oh, yeah, I'd like to tap that sweet ass," but she definitely would've caught his eye even if he weren't being paid to seduce her.

"Sorry I'm late."

"You're not late. You're right on time. Sit down and have cookies and punch."

Julie sat down across from Kirk and smiled at him. She had a radiant smile. Like the others, she seemed quite happy about his presence in the room.

"Since we have a newcomer to the group, why don't we go around the room and introduce ourselves?" said the woman next to Kirk, standing up. "I'm Agatha. I retired from teaching three years ago. My favorite author is Agatha Christie, and not just because we share the same name." Everybody chuckled. She sat back down and patted Kirk on the arm. "I make that joke every time."

When the introductions reached Julie, she said: "Hi, I'm Julie. I love to read to escape reality. My life isn't very exciting. And these cookies are delicious."

Kirk was up last. "Hi, everyone, I'm Kirk. I was a firefighter for six years, but I had to give it up. It doesn't matter how many people you save, if just one person dies in your arms...well, it was more than I could handle. I guess I'm too sensitive. I'm here because it's rare that a book moves me to tears, but Margarite and her dilemma did it."

"Thank you, Kirk," said Agatha. "We look forward to getting the male perspective on this book. We like to start with overall impressions before we get to the nitty-gritty, so would anybody like to begin?"

Julie raised her hand.

"Go ahead, Julie."

"This book was terrible. Complete garbage. I wanted to throw it against the wall except that I was reading it on my Kindle. I may burn it anyway. Not one element of this book worked. Did Margarite even have a dilemma? If she did, I must have missed it. And the author didn't get 1850's dresses right."

Kirk frowned. He wondered if the ladies would rat him out if he tried to backtrack on his "one of my all-time favorite books" comment.

"You're right about that last part," said Agatha. "The dress thing completely took me out of the story. Research is important. But I enjoyed the book, overall. Some of the supporting characters had me howling. What about the lady with the obese cat? And how she kept trying to say he wasn't obese? I'm laughing now just thinking about it."

"Okay, the cat lady was kind of funny," Julie admitted. "So one page out of five hundred and eighty had merit. It was like the author had never read a novel herself and wrote this book based entirely on other people's descriptions of what they were like."

"That's rather harsh," said Agatha. "Kirk here considers it one of his all-time favorites."

Julie looked at him. "Seriously?"

"Uh...yeah, I may have said that, but I'm pretty easy to please."

"This book, Margarite's Dilemma, is one of your all-time favorites?"

"Now, now," said Agatha. "Don't be a Judgy Julie."

"I'm not being judgmental. I'm just flabbergasted. If somebody says that their favorite movie is Baby Geniuses 2, you're going to be surprised."

"I may just have been in a good mood when I read it," said Kirk.

"What did you like about it?"

"Well, y'know, the cat, of course. And there was some halfway decent symbolism."

Then Kirk wondered why he needed to commit to his lie. His real thoughts about the book mirrored Julie's. Why pretend otherwise?

"Okay," he said. "I'll be honest. The book was dogshit. Are we allowed to say dogshit in here?"

"It's frowned upon," said Agatha.

"Then I apologize. But, yes, Margarite and her non-existent dilemma sucked. I just didn't think it was appropriate to come to your book club and crap all over your choice. 'Crap' is okay, right?"

"It's also frowned upon," said Agatha.

"I didn't want to offend anybody by criticizing the book you selected."

"Oh, we trash these books all the time," said a woman who'd introduced herself as Tina-with-a-T. "That's part of the fun. It's boring to discuss books we enjoy."

The other women all nodded.

Kirk popped a cookie into his mouth. "Good to know."

For the next two hours, they analyzed the literary flaws in excruciating detail. Agatha kept touching Kirk's arm, though she never lingered. Kirk made friendly eye contact with Julie several times, and he always had to look away first. He would have complimented her insights on the novel even if she said, "Some of them words is too darned long!" but she spoke intelligently and eloquently (if angrily) about the work, and she smiled every time he agreed with one of her points.

"It's eight o'clock," said Agatha. "Thank you everyone for another fine discussion. And thank you Kirk for joining us. I hope we'll see you next month."

"I'm sure you will," he said.

The ladies pushed back their chairs and began to leave the conference room. Agatha placed her hand on Kirk's arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "What are your plans for later tonight?" she asked.

"Oh, um, just, you know, stuff to do. Things."

"I don't see a wedding ring."

"No, ma'am. No wedding ring," he said, hoping that his use of "ma'am" would steer this in a different direction.

"Girlfriend?"

"Sort of. Depends which one of us you ask."

"May I be blunt with you?" she asked, not removing her hand.

"Yes?" said Kirk, not sure why he asked it as a question.

"I think my granddaughter would adore you. She says she's a lesbian. I'm not opposed to her being one, but given the choice between her dating women and her dating men, I'd prefer that she date men. It just makes life easier for everyone. Her partner is one of those masculine lesbians—there's a term for them, but I don't remember what it is. It's one of those words where my granddaughter and other lesbians are allowed to use but it would be offensive if I said it."

"Then you probably shouldn't say it," Kirk suggested.

"But do you know which word I'm talking about?"

"No, sorry."

"Anyway, her partner is very nice. I just believe that a woman shouldn't look like she'd win an arm wrestling contest against a man. It's simply not the way God meant our bodies to develop. I think that if I introduced you to my granddaughter, she might realize that there are other options."

"How long has she been with her partner?"

Agatha thought for a moment. "About three years."

"Yeah, she's fully homosexual. I'm pretty sure that by now she's aware that romantic love can exist between two different genders. I'm not going to break up a committed relationship. You'll have to accept her the way she is."

"I accept her. I'd just like to accept her more."

"Sorry, I'm not your guy. And no other guy is your guy. There are no guys for that job. I would like to thank you for the cookies, though."

"You're welcome. Could you tell that they weren't gluten free?"

"I sure could. I'm going to need you to let go of my arm."

Agatha released her grip. "The Pride parades are lively. I suppose there's that."

Kirk realized to his horror that Julie had left the room. Shit! He couldn't tell Ralph that he failed in his mission just because some old lady skeeved him out!

He hurried out of the room and nearly collided with Julie, who'd been standing right outside the door. "Sorry," he said.

She smiled. "In a rush? Too much fruit punch?"

"Just fleeing the awkwardness."

"It was sweet of you to not try to convert that poor lesbian."

"That was crazy, huh?"

"Would you like to go get dinner?" Julie asked. "My treat."

"Excuse me?"

"I would like to have dinner with you tonight, and I'm offering to pay for your meal."

"That's what I thought you said. Took me a moment to process it. Yes, I'd love that."

"Great! And you don't have to convert me."

5

When thinking about how things might play out this evening, Kirk really hadn't envisioned a scenario in which Julie asked him out on a date, without any wooing on his part. He'd expected to have to work a bit harder.

Maybe Ralph was right to think that she was aggressively seeking a sexual partner. A pathetic encounter with Kirk might not be enough to get her off the warpath. Ralph might have to bribe a whole series of men into clumsily banging her.

They drove separately to a high-end sushi restaurant. If Kirk wasn't mistaken, sushi was considered a sexy food. He wasn't sure if he could eat sashimi in a way that successfully conveyed the message, "I'll totally go down on you," but he'd definitely give it a try.

As Julie greeted him at the restaurant entrance with a quick hug, he was pretty sure she'd undone at least two buttons on her black blouse. This blouse was already being asked to do work beyond its job description, and the remaining buttons might not be up for the task of containment. It was going to be a challenge for Kirk to not be constantly cognizant of the existence of her breasts.

The hostess seated them in a dark corner table. She offered a drink menu, but Julie waved it away and ordered sake for both of them.

"I'm married," she told Kirk. "Are you okay with that?"

"You mean marriage in general, or...?"

"Me being married while we're on a date that may end in sex."

Kirk stared at her for a moment. And then for another moment.

"So, this is a date?"

Kirk had no idea what was going on with his mouth and brain. Women did not typically turn him into a babbling idiot. Things were going astoundingly well; she'd made the first move and she was making it very clear that she wasn't simply interested in him for his literature opinions. Perhaps at the end of the night she'd cross her legs and say, "No, no, no, none for you!" but right now it seemed that Kirk simply needed to not come off like a complete jackass.

Therefore, it was important that he not say dumb shit like "Is this a date?" and instead project the confidence of a man who knew what both of them wanted.

Julie shrugged. "It doesn't have to be a date if you don't want it to be. We can always go Dutch treat."

"No, no, I'm more than happy to call this a date," said Kirk. "And it doesn't bother me that you're married. I can keep a secret."

"Have you slept with a married woman before?"

"Not knowingly. I guess there's been the occasional tan line on a ring finger."

"So how long have you been lying about being a firefighter?"

Kirk decided not to bother trying to stick to his story. "What gave it away?"

"A little of everything."

"This evening was the first time I used that particular lie. I'll take it out of the rotation."

"That's probably a good idea. So what do you really do for a living?"

Lie, you fool, lie! "I'm a cowboy."

"Uh-huh."

"Really."

"In Atlanta?"

"I live in Montana. I'm here on vacation. I can rope a steer, believe me."

Julie smiled. "So you're good with knots?"

"I sure am," said Kirk. "I'm not sure if you're still talking about roping steers or if you've moved on to bedroom stuff, but, yes, I'm good with knots."

"I wasn't talking about roping steers. I was talking about sexual bondage."

"Cool."

"Let me see your hands."

"Why?"

"I want to see if you have cowboy hands."

"I wear gloves when I'm working."

"Let me see your hands, or they don't get to touch anything but chopsticks."

Kirk held out his hands. Julie took them in her own and inspected them like a palm reader.

"Nope, not the hands of a cowboy," she said.

"What are they the hands of?"

"Hmm." Julie looked at them more closely. "As far as I can tell, these are the delicate fingers of somebody who spends his days applying moisturizer to his hands."

Kirk chuckled. "Very funny."

"Seriously, what do you do? Be honest. I'm after your body, not your wallet."

For a split second, Kirk considered telling the truth, and then he decided that telling the truth was a ridiculous idea and lied. "I'm an office manager. Very boring stuff. Way too many spreadsheets."

Julie let go of his hands. "Tell me about your girlfriend."

"She's not really my girlfriend. We're just friends."

"With benefits?"

"Yeah."

"Do you do actual friend stuff or do you just have sex?"

"We do friend stuff," Kirk said. "I mean, we watch TV every once in a while. I drove her to the airport once."

"Do you ever hang out with her without having sex with her?"

Kirk tried to think of an example. Myra had given him a blowjob during the drive to the airport, so that didn't count. "Not on purpose."

"What does that mean?"

"One time she came over with some Buffalo wings, and we both got food poisoning. We stopped being in the mood for sex when the puking started."

Actually, they'd gotten the food poisoning from sushi, but Kirk wasn't dumb enough to share that part, considering that they were currently about to dine on sushi. He did wish he'd omitted the puking. It was understood. He didn't need to bring it to the forefront of the story.

"Do you get your sex from any other sources?" Julie asked.

"Occasionally. But I'm not some feral man-whore. What's happening between us right now isn't normal for me. I'd expected to sleep alone."

"You're still sleeping alone. I won't be able to stay over."

"Understood. Am I allowed to ask about your husband?"

"Not if you want me to stay frisky."

"Gotcha."

"He's fine. I'm with you now because I want to enhance my sex life, not replace it. You probably won't believe me because I've come off like such a rabid horndog since we met, but I've always been faithful to him. This is my first time doing anything like this."

"I'm honored."

"It's not you. It's the timing."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad I was in the right place at the right time."

"Me too."

The server arrived with their sake and they realized that they hadn't made any decisions about their sushi order. "Do you need a couple more minutes?" the server asked.

Julie looked at Kirk. "Will you feel ripped off if we skip food and leave after these drinks?"

"I'd be okay with that," said Kirk.

They didn't even finish the drinks.

6

The hotel was a couple of miles away from the restaurant. By Kirk's standards, a "nice" hotel meant that the rats were already dead when you found them, but Ralph had directed him to a hotel where the only STD's you might catch from the bedding belonged to your partner.

Instead of going with the fumigating story, Kirk told her that his apartment had just been painted and that the fumes were too noxious for a sexual romp. She asked him what color, and he said light blue without having to stop to think of a credible sounding hue. This answer seemed to satisfy her.

They drove separately to the hotel, probably because Kirk hadn't yet provided Julie with enough data points to prove that he wasn't a serial killer. They went inside and up to the front desk.

"We'd like a room," he told the clerk.

The clerk nodded. "Would you prefer a king or two doubles?"

"Do we look like we're here for separate beds?" asked Julie.

"A king it is."

"Do you have a room with a sex swing?"

"I'm afraid we do not."

"We'd like to be in an area where people aren't going to make noise complaints."

"I can put you on the fourth floor. Families with young children prefer to be closer to the pool."

Kirk was surprised by Julie's lack of discretion. It wasn't as if the hotel clerk was going to give Ralph a call and say "Guess what yooooour wife is doing?" but most people who were cheating on their spouses for the first time were less inclined to openly discuss the matter.

She did let him pay for the room. He supposed that a sushi meal could be easily explained if Ralph reviewed her credit card statements, but that a hotel room would require a more creative answer.

They went up to room 414. The card reader worked on the first try, which was not something Kirk had ever experienced. They opened the door and went inside. Julie put out the "Do Not Disturb" sign and closed the door behind them.

"Well," said Kirk.

"This is going to be so much fun," said Julie, walking over and setting her purse on the nightstand. "I'm really looking forward to it. I'm practically giddy. Thank you so much for showing up at that book club today. I can't tell you how much I need this."

"Glad to help out."

She walked back over to Kirk, put her arms around him, and kissed him on the lips. He returned the kiss: full, deep, hungry. She slid her tongue into his mouth as she moaned with pleasure.

Shit! She wasn't supposed to be moaning with pleasure!

They continued kissing as they slowly backed toward the bed, moving completely in synch. Kirk felt himself already getting hard.

No! No erections! This was emphatically not supposed to be a hot and passionate experience!

He tried to tilt his head a bit, so that they'd be kissing at a slightly awkward angle, but she tilted her own head to match and the kissing wasn't even the slightest bit awkward. It was amazing. Kirk had kissed many women, but he'd never felt this kind of fire. He could lose himself forever in her kisses.

Asshole! You can't lose yourself forever in her kisses! Focus, dammit! Remember why you're here!

Okay, he didn't necessarily need to start the incompetence right away. There was nothing wrong with enjoying some pleasant smooching for a couple of minutes before he enacted the plan. Ralph would never know. If the kissing didn't go well, Julie might decide that this was a bad idea and leave. It was in the best interest of the mission for the kissing to be awesome, and then he could kickoff the ineptitude after their clothing had been shed.

Yes, that made perfect sense. That should have been the plan from the very beginning.

Their kissing intensified. Julie ran her fingers through the back of his hair. Kirk was fully erect, wishing he'd wore looser pants, and Julie pressed herself against him.

She opened her eyes, pulled away from his lips, and smiled. "It feels like I'm about to become a very lucky woman."

Kirk didn't reply. He didn't want to sound egotistical by acknowledging that, yeah, he had a pretty big dick.

After taking a moment to remove their shoes, they resumed kissing as they backed all the way to the bed. It would've been nice if Julie smacked into the bed and yelped in pain, but no, she stopped at the exact right moment, even though her eyes were closed again and she was moving backwards. He pushed her onto the mattress, then climbed on top of her and kissed her some more.

He didn't want this sexual encounter to be complete crap! He wanted them to make intense love all night and wake up in each other's arms.

Tough shit. That wasn't why he was here. He had a job to do. Ralph wasn't paying him a thousand bucks to make Julie feel good. Kirk needed to start doing things badly before he got completely caught up in this experience and gave her ecstasy that he'd regret.

They kissed for a while longer. Then he moved away and began to nibble on her ear.

Bite too hard. Bite too hard.

He couldn't make his teeth clench down. If she recoiled in pain, she could accidentally rip her ear off in his mouth, which was far outside of the scope of unsatisfying sex. He stuck to sensual nibbling.

Kirk reached for her clothed breast, trying to clumsily slap it, but his hand landed perfectly and he gave it a gentle squeeze that, he could tell, sent a shiver of pleasure through her body.

He grabbed her blouse with both hands. He was going to tear it open, but purposely use insufficient force the first couple of times, so that he looked like the kind of ridiculous dumbass who couldn't tear open a woman's blouse in the heat of passion. And when he finally did get it open, he hoped she'd be pissed that he ripped her blouse. It looked expensive.

Maybe it was expensive, but it certainly wasn't sturdy. Even though he didn't tug very hard, the blouse came all the way open on the first try. Several buttons popped off. One flew directly at Kirk's face...and he caught it in his mouth.

"Holy shit!" said Julie.

Kirk spat the button off the side of the bed. "Sorry."

"That was amazing! We should've been recording that! Nobody would ever believe it!"

Kirk wasn't sure he believed it, either. If he ripped a thousand flimsy blouses off a thousand horny wives, he couldn't make that button pop right into his mouth again. Now he almost looked like a sexual magician. He'd even spat out the button in a suave manner. He should've let it slowly fall from his mouth in a line of drool.

Julie sat up and slipped out of her blouse. She wore a white lacy bra. Kirk was not an expert on women's fashion, but he did know that there were bras you wore when you were hoping to be seductive, and bras you wore when you just wanted to keep your boobs reigned in. This seemed very much like the former. Though it certainly wasn't something he could read into too much, it did seem as if Julie had been hoping to end up in a hotel room with somebody tonight.

She raised her hands over her head. The message was clear: time to take this thing off, stud.

A perfect opportunity for failure. Kirk was a skilled lover but the bra-removal process still slipped him up on occasion. He'd make sure to fumble around for a couple of minutes. He sat up, then reached around her with both hands. She leaned into him, pressing her glorious breasts against his chest. He could feel her firm nipples through the fabric. He gently pulled on the straps and they came apart.

What the hell...?

Since when did a bra just effortlessly open in the back? It was supposed to be a challenge. This task was meant to separate the inexperienced and clumsy from the experienced and dexterous. Was this some sort of new brassiere, patent pending, that represented a bold step forward in undergarment removal technology? The bra looked new, but maybe it was an old one that she'd worn so many times that the clasps barely held together anymore.

The bra fell away, revealing the finest breasts he'd ever personally viewed. They were spectacular. Flawless. If Kirk could sit down and design his dream breast, from the overall size (large but not freakishly large) to the diameter of the aureole, this would be it. Kirk wasn't fussy in matters related to the female bosom; he liked them large or small, natural or silicone-enhanced, firm or soft, pierced or unadorned, and in whatever roundish shapes were available. He'd never seen a pair that made him go, "Nope, not for me." But Julie's were beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

He just gaped at them.

"You like?" she asked.

"Uh...huh," he said, barely able to enunciate the words, even though "uh-huh" wasn't something that required precise enunciation. Good. This was good. Maybe she'd be turned off by him sounding like a Neanderthal.

Julie giggled. "At a loss for words?"

Kirk nodded.

Julie giggled again. Fuck. She found this endearing. This was going horribly.

"It's okay," said Julie. "You can touch."

Kirk wasn't certain that he should. Having those perfect breasts in his hands might shatter his resolve to achieve Ralph's goal. If he touched them, he'd want to squeeze them lovingly, gaze into her eyes as he teased the nipples with his thumbs. What was he supposed to do?

He cupped her breasts in his hands. They felt even better than they looked.

He kneaded them as he and Julie kissed. This was frickin' paradise.

Do your job. Now.

Kirk pinched her right nipple.

"Oooh, do that a little harder," said Julie.

Damn. Of course she was into having her nipples pinched. Why wouldn't she be? Fine. Kirk would refuse to pinch it harder. Frustrate her.

Instead, he took her nipple into his mouth, which, from an "unsatisfying sex" standpoint, was not an improvement.

7

Kirk loved hearing Julie moan as he licked her left breast while caressing the right. She was wonderfully, astonishingly responsive, and he decided to just enjoy the experience for a while. He moved his tongue in quick circles around her nipple, then went lower and slid his tongue along the underside of her breast. After sufficiently covering that territory, he switched to the underside of her other breast, eventually moving upward and nuzzling, kissing and licking that nipple as well. She had perfect nipples. Kirk hadn't even known that he had such a strong opinion about nipples, but these were what future geneticists should use when creating the ideal female specimen.

Her moans grew louder and louder, and her whole body began to quiver, and she started saying things like, "God, yes!" and "Oh, God, yes!" and "Yes, God, yes!" Shortly after he transitioned from licking to vigorous sucking, she let out a cry and a shudder.

Kirk pulled his mouth away. "Did you just come?"

Julie nodded.

He pointed to her breast. "From that?"

"You were doing it really well."

"Are you seriously saying that you came from me sucking on your boob?"

"Yes, dear. Are you complaining?"

Kirk had never known a woman who was that sensitive. He'd almost think she was faking it, but what would be the point? If she made it look too easy, she'd discourage him from trying harder. Anyway, though the moans could've easily been fraudulent, her body language seemed pretty credible, and there were beads of perspiration on her belly. He was relatively certain that Julie had indeed just had an orgasm with her pants still on.

Incredible.

They kissed some more.

"I hope you don't think your work is done," said Julie.

"I assumed it was just beginning."

"You assumed correctly." She tugged on the waistline of her pants. "Make these go away."

Kirk happily unbuttoned and unzipped her pants. She lifted her ass off the bed as he slid them down, revealing panties that were most definitely not of the "last day before laundry day" variety. White silk. Admittedly, he didn't know what her underwear collection was like; maybe this was the oldest, rattiest pair she owned. Still, as with the bra, these struck him as the kind of panties that had been selected with the expectation that somebody would be seeing them and quickly removing them.

A sudden thought occurred to him. Maybe she'd had an online date for after the book club discussion, and she'd stood the guy up after meeting Kirk. That poor son of a bitch. He had no idea what he was missing.

Or perhaps he did know what he was missing. There was no reason to think they hadn't already slept together. Right now her date was sitting alone in the restaurant, rock-hard, thinking about the activities he should be enjoying as a single tear trickled down his cheek. Kirk felt terrible for the man's misfortune, but not terrible enough not to slide Julie's panties off and toss them onto the floor.

She was neatly trimmed, not shaved, which was yet another way in which she was perfect. A natural blonde. Instead of being wishy-washy about the reason she was lying completely naked on the bed, she spread her legs without pretense, making it abundantly clear what he was meant to do.

Starting at her knee, Kirk kissed a slow, gentle path up her inner thigh, toward...

Toward forfeiting a thousand bucks. Or at least the second half of his payment. He'd already made Julie come, and though it had been a surprise, it was still the exact opposite reaction he was being paid to get from her. Her loud shuddering orgasm was literally the one thing that was not supposed to happen during their time together. And now here he was, kissing his way up her leg, planning to use his tongue on an even more sensitive area.

But that area looked so appealing...

This had to stop. She couldn't be allowed to have another orgasm unless it was a frustrated one accomplished with a vibrator while he took a shower. There were plenty of ways he could successfully mess this up. He could mindlessly lap at it like a Popsicle. He could gag a bit. He could say, "Nom nom nom!" in a Cookie Monster voice. He could shove his whole face against it way too hard. He could say, "Screw that, you do me first!" He could unfavorably compare it to other vaginas he'd seen in the past. He could say, "Yeah, momma, I sure do love munchin' on some cooch!" He could moan louder than she did. He could press his tongue against it and just hold it there without moving, and when she finally asked if something was wrong he could say, "You don't like that?" and when she said, well, no, she preferred a bit of motion, he could say, "That's weird, every other woman I've gone down on has liked it. Are you sure? Maybe give it a few more minutes," and then he could just sit there with his tongue out but doing nothing until she finally got bored asked him to remove it, at which point he'd say, "I guess some ladies just don't know what feels good."

He'd almost kissed his way to the top of her inner thigh. This was the moment of truth. He could still salvage this.

He gently ran his tongue over her, she sighed with pleasure, and Kirk was forced to accept the reality that he would be eating pussy to the best of his ability.

He kneaded her thighs as he licked, alternating between quick flicks of his tongue and slow, firm, top to bottom strokes. She switched from sighing to whimpering, and raised herself to grind against his face. Kirk slid his hands under her ass and lifted a bit to further encourage the grinding. This was soooooo not in the spirit of what Ralph had intended.

Kirk could tell that she was getting close to another orgasm—already? Jesus Christ!—but he felt that it would be wrong of him not to tease her. He moved away and returned his attention to her inner thigh.

"You're cruel," she said.

He continued to squeeze her ass (its firmness and quality was no surprise at this point) as he switched from one thigh to the other. Julie reached down to caress his hair. Then she grabbed a handful and gave it a tug, which he took as an not-so-subtle expression of her desire for his face to return to where it had been a few moments earlier. Kirk did as she requested.

Based on information he'd acquired through books, movies, and personal experience, Kirk knew where to find the clitoris. It was right there in front of him. And it was important for him to avoid it at all costs. If he gave her another orgasm, he wasn't sure he could salvage the assignment.

What if he belched? That would spoil the mood, right?

He couldn't really burp on command, though. He'd have to find a carbonated beverage or gulp down some air, and his current facial positioning didn't offer that opportunity. Kirk would simply have to keep teasing her until it became annoying instead of erotic.

"Stop teasing me," Julie whispered.

Kirk went for the clitoris.

When Julie came, she pressed her legs so tightly over his ears that her cries were muffled. She thrashed around so vigorously that Kirk had a momentary twinge of concern that she might snap his neck. Fortunately, she calmed down before she could break any of his vertebrae.

Kirk lifted his face away from her.

She looked down at him. "I only get one?"

Kirk lowered his face again. He went back to kneading her inner thighs, partly because he loved touching those amazing legs, and partly to protect his skull if they snapped closed like a bear trap again.

She got close again remarkably soon. Kirk licked away as he braced himself for impact.

When she climaxed, yes, she bashed her legs against him again, possibly hard enough to leave a bruise. If they kept meeting like this, it was something they might have to discuss.

Kept meeting? Where the fuck had that idea come from?

Okay, that was a brief insane thought and it would never happen. He could be forgiven for having brief insane thoughts when his face was buried between a beautiful woman's legs as she had a violent orgasm. But now that the tremors were subsiding, he had to return to logical brain functioning.

Or maybe he didn't. Maybe Ralph could just go to hell.

It wasn't as if Kirk had loan sharks threatening to break his legs if he didn't hand over a thousand bucks by dawn. He'd almost turned down Ralph's offer in the first place. He needed the money, but he didn't need need the money. It wasn't life or death. Julie was clearly a woman who required and deserved many more orgasms, and dammit, Kirk was going to give them to her!

"Okay, it's finally your turn," said Julie.

"No need to reciprocate."

"I want to reciprocate. I want to reciprocate until your eyes roll back in your head."

"All right."

Kirk took off his pants and underwear. He'd hoped for an audible gasp when she saw the size of his fully erect penis, but he settled for the admiring look. She lay on her stomach on the bed and beckoned for him to walk over, which he did without much in the way of mental anguish.

She took him into her mouth, and yeah, he'd made the right choice. Ralph could go straight to hell.

8

Kirk was not, in this particular moment, inclined to rank every blowjob he'd received in his life. So he couldn't say for certain that it was the absolute best ever. But if he reviewed the statistics later, he was fairly sure he'd conclude that this was indeed the finest oral sex he'd ever received.

Julie's technique? Flawless. Not a scrape of teeth to be found. Her enthusiasm level was off the charts; if she didn't enjoy what she was doing, she deserved whatever Academy Award equivalent they gave people for pretending to like giving blowjobs. And there was constant eye contact, as if she was daring him to look into her eyes and pretend that he wasn't in mind-boggling ecstasy. There was no "Goodness gracious, am I doing this right?" act. She knew damn well how good she was.

Too good. Within a couple of minutes Kirk felt that familiar sensation. He pulled back, sliding out of her mouth.

"It's okay," she said. "You can come in my mouth." She resumed the sucking.

It was a most tempting offer indeed, but he didn't want to finish in her mouth when there were so many things left to do.

"I don't want to come yet," he said.

Julie pulled her mouth away so she could talk. "I want you to," she said, before resuming the blowjob.

Kirk shook his head. "I still want to—" Would she prefer "be inside you" or "fuck you"? He decided that it was the latter. "—fuck you."

She again slid her mouth off his penis so she could speak. "You still can." She went back to sucking him.

"I can tell this one is gonna be really intense," Kirk insisted. "I'll need some recovery time."

She slid her mouth off his penis yet again. "How about we postpone the conversation until my mouth isn't full?"

"I'm just saying..."

"Don't say. I'm not a good enough ventriloquist to talk and suck your cock at the same time."

"But..."

"I promise I can get you hard again. Trust me." She gave him a look that quite clearly conveyed the message that it was time to shut the hell up, and then took him back into her mouth.

Kirk wasn't worried about getting erect for a second round. His concern was that Julie would want to beat a hasty retreat after he finished. But if she wasn't planning to go anywhere, he'd happily complete this particular activity.

Julie picked up the pace, and that was the end of it. Kirk came so hard that he almost lost his balance. Moments later, he flopped onto the bed next to her. She swallowed (because of course she swallowed) and snuggled against him.

"Wow," he said.

"Yeah," Julie replied.

"Damn."

"Yep."

Kirk lay silently for a moment.

"Wow," he said, unable to remember if he'd said that earlier.

"Uh-huh."

"That was really something."

"Agreed."

"Damn."

"Ready to go again?" Julie asked.

"What?"

"I'm kidding. But the next time I say it I won't be kidding."

"That's fair."

Julie gently ran her fingers through his chest hair. Now that Kirk could think a bit more clearly, the feeling of guilt returned. A spectacular blowjob was not supposed to be on the agenda. Poor Ralph was probably sitting at home right now, thinking that Julie was hurriedly getting dressed while Kirk sucked his thumb in the fetal position.

There was still time to mess this up.

But he still didn't want to. He didn't mind forfeiting the thousand bucks. He wanted to have sex with Julie, and then some more sex with Julie, and then—penis willing—he wanted to have even more sex with her. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to make babies.

No. He didn't want to make babies. That was a wacky, scary thought that should not have popped into his mind. But he did want to see her again.

What if he simply lied to Ralph? Told him that everything went according to plan. How would he even know?

That seemed kind of immoral.

Oh well. He'd sort it out later.

They lay there for a couple of minutes. Kirk started to talk, but then he got the sense that Julie would rather spend their time together with him not talking, so he accepted the social cue.

She began to caress his thigh. By the time she wrapped her fingers around his penis, Kirk was already mostly hard again, and it took only a few expert strokes to get him there all the way. It wasn't as if he typically required a nap between sessions, but this was a much faster than usual recovery.

"I'll get a condom," Julie said, getting out of bed.

Kirk had brought his own, but since Ralph had not offered to reimburse him for the cost he was more than happy to use Julie's. He was surprised that she had them; most married women probably didn't carry prophylactics in their purse. Yet more evidence that Julie had left the house planning to get laid.

She returned with a full strip of condoms. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm not expecting you to use all twelve." She climbed back into bed. "You may think I'm looking for some tender, gentle lovemaking. Please dissuade yourself of that notion."

Kirk nodded. "Understood."

"I'm a sturdy girl. I'm not going to break. Fuck me like an action figure that you're not afraid to take out of the original packaging." Julie frowned. "That sounded way better in my head."

"I got the point."

"I know you did, but, God, that sucked. Just to be clear, I thought of it while I was digging through my purse for the condoms. It's not something I'd been mentally rehearsing all evening. I wish I could un-say it. I'm amazed you're still hard after that."

"Well, you're naked, so..."

"Anyway, I just meant that I want to be fucked. But I don't want to be spanked, and I don't want to be choked, and I don't want teeth marks anywhere or anything like that. A little nipple-pinching is okay, but otherwise, no pain. Just stuff that feels good, done like you mean it. Got it?"

"I've got it," said Kirk.

"My husband is going to start wondering where I am, so we've only got another hour or so. I expect us to cycle through a lot of different positions in that hour. Are you up for it?"

"I most certainly am."

"Good," said Julie. "Let's get started."

Kirk removed a condom from the strip, and then tore it open. In his first sexual experience, the condom wrapper might as well have been made of Kevlar, but of course this time it tore open on the first try as if it were made of tissue. As he put it on, Julie lay on her back and spread her legs wide. Kirk got on top of her and slid inside as he passionately kissed her.

There was no resistance. No need to slowly work his way into her. She moaned with pleasure. He moaned with pleasure at a slightly lower volume. And then he began to thrust away.

They went at it in the missionary position for about a minute before Julie told him she wanted to be on top. Kirk rolled over obligingly and she climbed on him, grabbing his hands and pressing them to her breasts. Their bodies moved in perfect synch. Again, Ralph could go to hell.

Julie dismounted long enough to turn around and switch to reverse cowgirl. Kirk cupped her ass as she bounced on him. He'd seen many beautiful, majestic things in his life, but nothing compared to the visual feast that lay before him. It deserved to be captured in an oil painting. Not now, of course, but he might sign up for some art classes just to make sure he could do this justice.

He realized that they were only on position #3 and he was starting to feel like he might not be able to last much longer if she kept bouncing with such vigor. That was probably for the best; if he came too quickly, he'd be doing exactly what he was supposed to...no, as if sensing his overstimulation, Julie slowed her pace. Kirk closed his eyes and thought about Non-Euclidean plane geometry.

Julie seemed to know when the need had subsided. She climbed off of him and got on her hands and knees. Kirk took the hint.

She was much louder in doggy-style. Instead of moaning, she switched to saying "Fuck me!" over and over and over and over, not varying the inflection much.

They kept up that position for two, three, four, five, six, or seven minutes (Kirk was having trouble keeping track of time) and then switched to spooning. As he thrust away, Kirk reached down to stimulate her with his fingers, but her own fingers were already there, so he cupped her breast instead.

When her orgasm arrived, her vocalizations and thrashing made it impossible for Kirk to hold back any longer. He assumed that permission to come was granted. His release was so intense that he felt like his eyes spun around in his head like marbles. He came so hard that he worried he might have burst through the condom like shotgun spray, though when he pulled out he saw that the condom was full but thankfully intact.

He got up, disposed of the evidence, wiped himself off, and returned to bed. Julie draped herself over his chest. They both lay there, catching their breath.

"We haven't used up our hour," Julie informed him.

Sooner than he would have thought possible without supernatural intervention, Kirk was inside her again. Julie was bent forward over the bed as he pounded her from behind. The headboard slammed against the wall with every thrust and Kirk was glad the hotel clerk had given them a room where their neighbors didn't mind listening to exuberant fucking.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he pulled out so Julie could climb on the bed and lie on her back. Kirk remained standing at the edge of the bed as they resumed their intercourse. He grabbed her by the ankles and placed her feet on his shoulders, going in even deeper.

He thrust into her as hard as he could. A little voice in the back of his mind said, You're going to get in troooooouble for this but he didn't care. It was worth having to refund Ralph's payment. He'd never felt such a connection with a lover.

The hour wasn't over when he finished, but he knew he was done for the evening.

He collapsed onto the bed and they silently held each other.

"Thank you," Julie finally said. "I really, really needed that."

"Can I see you again?"

Julie shook her head. "Absolutely not. This was a one-time indiscretion. I got it out of my system and I can't do it again."

"Oh," said Kirk, trying not to let the disappointment come through in his voice. Of course they couldn't do it again. That would be ridiculous. He shouldn't have said something so stupid. He didn't want to mess up Julie and Ralph's marriage, even if it was a dysfunctional, weird, and unhealthy one.

"I need to take a shower," said Julie. "Care to join me?"

They didn't have sex in the shower, but Julie emerged with the cleanest breasts in the northern hemisphere.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening," Julie told him as they stood next to her car.

"You too."

Julie got into her car and drove away. Now Kirk had to figure out what he was going to do about Ralph. He was sure he could handle it without any problems.

* * *

Goddamn that had been good.

Best sex of Julie's life. Granted, that wasn't saying much, but goddamn. Talk about surpassing expectations.

She had no idea why Ralphie had paid that guy to seduce her, but she was glad he did.

9

The next morning, Kirk was awakened by a knock on the door. He glanced over at the clock and saw that morning had barely started—it was just after three o'clock. 3:00 AM visitors were rarely a good thing, but maybe Julie had tracked him down and wanted to fuck like crazy. He'd be amenable to that.

He looked through the peephole. It was not Julie wanting to fuck like crazy. It was Ralph, who appeared to be in a sour mood.

Kirk had already decided on his plan of action: lie his ass off. He opened the door. "Hey, Ralph, how's it going?"

"May I come in?"

"Do you have the second half of my cash?"

"No," said Ralph. "I do not."

"Oh. Well, yeah, I mean, I guess you can come in. Kinda early, though."

"Sorry about that. I know you must be tired."

Ralph walked past him into the living room. Kirk shut the door and forced a smile. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"I'll take a beer."

Kirk went into the kitchen and took two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator. This was going to be fine. Nothing to worry about. He couldn't expect Ralph to be feeling cheery so soon after Kirk had screwed his wife. He popped off the bottle caps and returned to the living room, where Ralph was sitting on the sofa.

"Thank you," said Ralph, taking the beer. He took a long swig.

Kirk sat on the recliner across from him. Ralph took another swig, and then another, draining the bottle. He set it on the coffee table and belched for a full seven seconds.

"Can I get you another?" Kirk asked.

"Nah."

"So what can I do for you?"

"How did tonight go?"

"Exactly as planned. I talked her into going back to a hotel and we got right down to business. What's funny is that I didn't even have to fake the performance anxiety—I was so nervous that it happened on its own. I offered her a backrub but I used shampoo instead of lotion, so that was a great big ol' mess. Suds everywhere." Kirk chuckled. "When I finally got it up I did the 'wrong hole' thing, and she did not like that. She ended up kneeing me in the balls. They're still swollen. Wanna see?"

"You're saying that it went poorly?"

"Worse than two Amish virgins trying to do it."

"What does that mean?"

"The Amish don't have very good sex education," said Kirk.

"They don't?"

"Or maybe they do. Maybe they're better at sex because they don't see unrealistic depictions of it in movies. I don't know. I was just trying to be funny."

"You might want to save the hilarious stand-up comedy for a conversation where it's appreciated."

"You seem a bit out of sorts, Ralph. What's wrong?"

"What the hell do you think is wrong? Julie was glowing when she came home! She was practically purring!"

"Oh."

"She kept smiling and sighing happily for no reason, and she went right to sleep! She usually tosses and turns and steals the covers!"

"It was a pretty engaging book club discussion," said Kirk.

"You were supposed to fuck her badly!"

"I did!"

"Bullshit! How many times did she come? How many?"

"Zero. Maybe even negative one. I may have turned her off to men altogether, and for that I am deeply sorry."

"Do you know how snuggly she was? You made her your goddamn sex kitten, didn't you?"

"I don't know what to tell you. Everything went as planned. The only way it could've gone worse is if I'd eaten a lot of spicy food beforehand. Maybe she had sex with somebody else after I left."

"Are you calling my wife a slut?"

Kirk shook his head. "No. I meant that in a sex-positive way. I'd never try to slut shame her. I mean, I'm not exactly the most discriminating partner seeker."

Ralph's eyes narrowed. "Think about what you've just said, and ask yourself if that's the right approach when there's an angry husband in your apartment."

"I don't know what you want from me. I did my job. If she came home in a good mood, that's not my fault. For all I know, she was so sexually frustrated when she left that she bought a really expensive vibrator. Those high end ones are a million times better than a dick. You barge into my apartment at three in the morning, accusing me of wrongdoing, and you don't even consider that Julie might have given that pleasure to herself?"

"She has a collection of the finest dildos money can buy," said Ralph. "She's got that rabbit thing, and she's got one that looks and feels just like a twelve-inch cock. It even heats up. I've watched her use them. This was not post-dildo snuggling."

"We'll just have to agree to disagree."

"No, we'll have to agree that you made my wife purr, you son of a bitch!"

"Fine. Whatever. I'm not going to convince you that I'm right, and you're not going to convince me that my equipment worked properly. So how do you want to resolve this?"

"I want the first half of my payment back. And then I'm going to kick your ass."

"No," said Kirk. "I'll forfeit the second half of my payment because I'm an honorable guy, but I'm not giving you a refund when I did my job. And you don't get to kick my ass."

"How are you going to stop me?" asked Ralph.

"By kicking your ass first."

"Oh, really?"

"C'mon, Ralph. You're doughy. You're wheezing a little just from raising your voice. This is not a fight you'd win."

It suddenly occurred to Kirk that Ralph might have brought a gun. This was the sort of thing that should have occurred to him before he opened the door. Furious husbands confronting their wives' lovers often brought firearms. The sex had been so good that it made his perspective of the world overly optimistic.

"I could sue you," said Ralph.

"You'd drag me into court to tell a judge that I made love to your wife too skillfully?"

Ralph's face instantly turned red, which couldn't have been healthy for his blood vessels. "Did you just say 'made love'?"

"Sorry. I meant 'porked.'"

"Is this a joke to you?"

"No, I'm just flabbergasted that I fulfilled my side of the deal, and you're here accusing me of giving your wife an orgasm. I guess if 'Ow! Not there!' is the sound she makes when she climaxes, I may have misinterpreted the signals, but I swear to you, she had a shitty time."

Ralph's lip curled in disgust. "Literally?"

"No. God, no. Figuratively."

"Maybe I'll confront her. We'll see if she verifies the 'wrong hole' story."

Dammit. If Ralph was going to take his anger out on somebody, it needed to be Kirk. "All right. Fine. You caught me. Full disclosure. I took her back to the hotel with every intention of following the plan, but I just couldn't do it. She's beautiful and sensual and amazing. You don't know how lucky you are. We got carried away, and for that I apologize. She did call out your name, like seven or eight times."

Ralph just stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Finally he spoke: "Thank you for your honesty."

"No problem."

"I want my five hundred bucks back."

"Yeah, yeah, that's fair. I wasn't gonna go to the bank until you gave me the second half, so I've still got the cash."

Kirk's plan had been to roll around naked in the thousand dollars, paper cuts be damned. Fortunately for Ralph, the first five hundred remained unsullied. Kirk really hated the idea of returning the money, but it was the right thing to do. He hadn't earned it.

He had a small desk in the corner of his living room, though it was rarely used for any sort of desk-related activities. Mostly it was just a place to put stuff until he found a different place to put it. As he walked over, Ralph followed, a little too closely. Kirk opened the drawer and took out the envelope.

"Here you go," he said.

"Mind if I count it?" Ralph asked.

"No, go right ahead."

Ralph opened the envelope and slowly went through the bills one at a time, counting them out loud. When he reached five hundred dollars, he nodded and closed the envelope again. "It's all there."

"I wouldn't rip you off."

"I'm still going to kick your ass."

"No, you're not."

"Giving my money back isn't enough of a resolution. You fucked my wife. You're lucky I'm not here to kill you."

"I'm sorry about the way this all worked out," said Kirk. "But I'm not the one who interrupted your breakfast with this batshit crazy offer. If you hire somebody to have sex with your wife, well, maybe she's going to have a good time. It's the risk you took. Now please leave my apartment."

"One punch," said Ralph. "You've got to at least give me one punch."

"No."

"I've been emasculated! You won't let me have one punch to give me back my dignity?"

"Where?"

"Jaw?"

"Hell no."

"Stomach?"

Kirk shook his head. "It really hurts to get punched in the stomach. You could do serious damage to my internal organs."

"Then what do you recommend?"

"I guess I'd let you slap me in the face."

"That a joke?"

"No, why?"

"You don't overcome being emasculated by slapping the perpetrator in the face."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you," said Kirk. "I have no interest in letting you beat up on me. Why don't you go make a voodoo doll or something?"

"How about I stomp on your foot?"

"Stomp on my foot?"

"Yeah," said Ralph. "Stomp on your foot."

"That would actually make you feel better?"

"I think so."

"It's not that big of a step up from slapping me in the face."

"It'll do."

"With shoes or without?"

"Without."

"No way. You could break my foot. Unless we were both going to have bare feet."

"That would be kind of gay," said Ralph.

"Yes, it would be the behavior of homosexuals with foot fetishes who are into sado-masochism. But if it will get you off my back..."

"Fine. You can put your shoes on."

"All right, then," said Kirk. "Let's do it. But you just get to stomp on it. You don't get to jump. Your other foot stays on the floor."

"I accept these terms."

Kirk put on his shoes, wishing he owned a pair of good solid work boots, then put his left foot forward, feeling more than a little silly. But if this kept Ralph from going on a homicidal rampage, he could handle feeling a little silly.

"Right foot," said Ralph.

"Why?"

"You're right handed, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"So I want to stomp on your dominant foot."

Kirk decided not to argue. He switched feet.

"Only one stomp," said Kirk.

"All right."

"And just a stomp," said Kirk. "You don't get to grind your heel against it."

"I wasn't going to grind."

"Let's do it."

Ralph slammed his foot down upon Kirk's. Kirk had assumed it would hurt, but he hadn't anticipated quite this amount of adrenaline-fueled rage. The pain was unbelievable. He might've even heard a bone crack. His plan had been to take his punishment in a stoic, dignified manner, but instead he let out a high-pitched shriek.

"Ow, shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"I barely even stomped on you."

"The hell you didn't! Did you put cement in those shoes or something? Ow! Shit!"

Ralph sneered at him. "That was quite a shriek. Maybe you're right; maybe somebody else did bang my wife after you."

"Just go, okay? You got your money back and you shattered my foot. We're done here, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're done." Ralph left the apartment.

Kirk flopped down on the couch and took off his shoe. His foot was red but at least there was no bone protruding through the skin.

Returning the money had been a major bummer, but still, it had been an evening well spent. That said, he didn't think he'd try to see Julie again. The next time, Ralph might have a gun, and sex, no matter how mind-blowing, wasn't worth dying over.

10

Julie lay in bed, wondering when Ralph would return.

She didn't know where he'd gone or what he was doing. Presumably it had something to do with the fact that he'd paid Kirk to fuck her brains out tonight. He was probably asking for graphic details, sweat glistening on his brow, licking his lips as Kirk described the things they'd done.

This was not an appealing mental image. The "ick" factor was strong. But if Ralph was going to open their marriage to other sexual partners—even if she wasn't supposed to know about it—she wasn't going to protest. She was happy to play along. Hell, if Ralph wanted to hide in the closet and watch, she'd be okay with that.

She'd been a lot hornier than usual recently, ever since she decided to write an erotica novel. Just the Sex Parts of My Diary was the tale of a newly single woman who discovered online dating. Julie had done quite a bit of research and discovered that the world of online dating was a vile cesspool filled with creepy pervos obsessed with sending pictures of their unsightly dicks, but for the purposes of her book, these websites were filled with handsome, charming men with superb grammar skills. It was meant to be a fantasy, after all.

Julie planned to tell Ralph about the book after it was finished. She'd be embarrassed to have him read it, but he wouldn't ask to read it, so that wouldn't be a problem. During their marriage, she'd secretly written eleven novels. She hated them all. In fact, upon completing each of them she'd renamed the files Dogshit, Dogshit #2, Dogshit #3, etc.

She'd decided that maybe her problem was that she was trying to write deep, literary fiction instead of something that was simply entertaining. Maybe writing some shameless smut was what she needed. Write about penises and vaginas instead of redemption and poverty. Write the kind of stuff she liked to read.

It had worked. She loved this book. She'd never felt so creatively energized. And writing about people having sex was making her want to have sex herself.

The physical part of her relationship with Ralph had been great at first. They went at it in every room of the house, including the attic, the garage, and underneath the front porch. It was extremely difficult for him to achieve climax, which was a bummer for him but paradise for her, since it meant that they didn't have to stop until she couldn't take anymore. And he'd do anything she asked, even if the request made him break out into a cold sweat.

Then, a couple of years into their marriage, she brought out the sock puppet.

She'd received it as a gag gift from her Secret Santa at the office. It was a purple puppet with big googly eyes and floppy ears. She named it Dippy. That night in bed, Julie was in a wacky mood so she put the puppet on her hand and started speaking in a high-pitched squeaky voice. "Hi, Ralph! I'm Dippy! How about you give my owner a nice rim job?"

Ralph had obliged with great enthusiasm, and more requests followed, all of them unbecoming of an innocent looking sock puppet. When Dippy asked Ralph to "f-f-f-fuck Julie" (Dippy had a charming stutter), Ralph was in there immediately. It was the fastest he'd ever come, and the most voluminous.

The next night, he'd asked her to bring out Dippy again. Julie had done so. Why not? Dippy was fun. The sex was awesome.

The night after that, he'd asked once more. Julie had suggested that they save this sort of play for another time. It was an enjoyably goofy diversion but she didn't want their every romantic encounter to involve a squeaky-voiced sock puppet. Though Ralph didn't try to pressure her, he did pout a bit, which was obviously something of a turn-off. He couldn't get hard, and eventually Julie's wrist was too sore and her lips too chapped to keep trying.

When she slipped Dippy onto her hand the next morning, the sex was vigorous. When they tried Dippy-free intercourse before bed, Ralph did finally get it up, but she noticed that he kept peeking over at the drawer where the puppet was stored.

Their sex life was never the same. Without the puppet, Ralph just didn't seem that much into it. Doing the voice without Dippy on her hand worked a little, but Ralph only truly seemed into the act of lovemaking when it was the full package. It wasn't as if the voice or the puppet required much effort on her part, but Julie didn't enjoy having to act ridiculous to get her husband aroused.

She grew to resent Dippy.

Everything had been fine before that goddamned puppet. And so one day, before Ralph got home from work, she threw Dippy into the sink, doused him with lighter fluid (yes, Dippy was a dude) and set him on fire.

It wasn't as if she imagined Dippy letting out horrific shrieks of pain as he went up in flames. She wasn't psychotic about the whole thing—she was just sick of Ralph's weird fetish. Julie watched him burn, rinsed the ashes down the sink, and said nothing when her husband came home.

"Did you burn something?" he asked when he walked into the kitchen.

"No, dear."

A couple nights later, Ralph asked her to take out the sock puppet. Julie opened the drawer and expressed surprise that she couldn't find Dippy—which was, of course, a transparent lie since Ralph knew perfectly well that nobody was breaking into homes and stealing sock puppets out of nightstand drawers. He remembered the smell of burnt cotton, confronted her about it, and she confessed to the homicide.

It had not turned into a screaming match. Ralph had merely looked disheartened. After a sexless week, she found out where her co-worker got Dippy and bought a replica, but Ralph explained that it just wasn't the same.

Though it wasn't as if they stopped having sex altogether, their mattress remained mostly un-bounced upon. Ralph, never a prime physical specimen, let himself go. They became more like roommates than a married couple. But he was a good roommate, at least compared to the two poisonous relationships she'd had before meeting him, and she never quite worked up the motivation to actually leave him.

She did monitor his e-mail. He was good at many things but not the creation of inventive passwords. Most of his e-mail was work-related, but she wanted to make sure he wasn't flirting with anybody. She'd refused to give him a sock puppet hand job but somebody else might eventually step in.

When she saw the e-mail to Kirk reminding him that Ralph had spoken to him about paying a thousand dollars to seduce Julie, her first reaction had been intense shock. She'd stared at the e-mail for almost ten minutes.

Then she'd wondered what Kirk looked like.

If he was reasonably attractive, this might be a wonderful thing.

She was tempted to talk to Ralph, ask about his motive, but she'd have to confess that she read his private e-mails, and if he was busted he might call off the whole thing. She didn't want him to call off the whole thing until she saw Kirk.

When she saw Kirk (Ralph had e-mailed him the address of the library where she had book club, so she knew to expect him) she was very, very pleased. Ralph had chosen well. He knew what kind of man she liked.

As she lay in bed, she decided not to bring it up unless Ralph did. If he never did, she'd have to decide if she was indeed going to leave this as a one-time glorious experience, or if she'd renege on that and try to see Kirk again.

11

"Hi."

"Uh, hi."

"May I buy you that burrito?"

The man looked down at his half-eaten beef burrito. "This place is counter service. I've already paid for it. You could buy me another one to go if you wanted."

"I'll do that," said Ralph. "Mind if I have a seat?"

"Are you trying to turn me religious?"

"No. I have a job offer." Ralph slid into the booth across from the man. He'd spent most of his day searching for just the right prospect. Somebody who looked like a killer. This guy was gigantic, with hands that seemed like they could snap a person's neck like breaking the head off a ladybug. When Ralph had watched him taking a bite of his burrito, there was a primal savagery, like a fierce lion tearing into the throat of a gazelle.

"Are you making a movie?" the man asked.

"No."

"Aw."

Ralph took out an envelope and slid it across the table. "There's a hundred dollars in here. If you don't take the job, this money means that this conversation didn't happen."

"The job pays a hundred dollars?"

"No. The job pays a lot more. But if you don't want the job, you take the hundred dollars and we never met."

"What if I do want the job?" the man asked. "What happens to the hundred dollars?"

"It goes toward the job fee."

"Okay. So either way, I get a hundred dollars and a second burrito?"

"Yes."

The man grinned. "That's pretty cool. I like that. Is it a hundred dollar bill or is it five twenties or what?"

"It's five twenties."

"Nice. A lot of places won't take hundred dollar bills."

"I know."

"One time I was getting cash out of an ATM and it gave me a hundred dollar bill. I swear I'm not making that up! I was like, what am I supposed to do with this? But I hate when you pay with a twenty and they hold it up to the light or draw on it with that marker to make sure it's not counterfeit. Makes me feel like a criminal when I'm just trying to buy some groceries. And paying with a jar of change has its own set of problems. I'm Skip, by the way."

"Hi, Skip. I'm Ralph."

"I go off on tangents sometimes. I hope that's okay."

"It's fine."

"Is this job offer legal?"

"I'm giving you a hundred dollars not to talk about it, so..."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything. Plenty of legal job offers come with an NDA. I feel like we're getting away from the main topic. You know what, if it's okay with you, I'll just be quiet and let you talk."

Ralph glanced around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping, then leaned across the table and spoke in a whisper. "I want you to kill a man."

"Sounds good. I'm in."

"That's it? You're in?"

"Sure."

"Have you ever killed anybody?"

"No, but I could practice first."

"I'm not asking you to practice."

"Why do you want him dead?" Skip asked.

"He slept with my wife."

"Okay, okay, I completely understand. I'll kill him good."

Ralph leaned back in his seat. "Fantastic."

"I'll throw in your wife for free."

"No. Nobody touches my wife."

"Except the guy you're paying me to assassinate, right?" Skip chuckled, then grimaced. "Sorry. That was a joke. I guess I shouldn't joke about that. I assume the nerve is still raw since you want him dead."

"Very raw."

"When did you want me to kill him?"

"He'll probably be on high alert for the next couple of days," said Ralph. "But soon after that."

"Well, my schedule is pretty clear, so I can do it basically whenever. I guess it depends on how heavily he's guarded."

"He's not guarded at all. He's just a normal guy."

"That'll make things easier. I figured he was a movie star with bodyguards and stuff. How much are you paying me? I'd do it for free, but since you offered..."

"One thousand dollars," said Ralph, who'd originally planned to offer five times that.

"Will you cover expenses? Like if I needed to buy a shiny new axe?"

"No axe murdering."

Skip's face fell.

"Nothing messy," Ralph continued. "A quick strangulation, then you dump the body, and it's over."

"Dump the body in one piece?"

"Yes."

Skip sighed.

"No torture or anything like that," said Ralph. "I want revenge but not sadistic revenge. If he's dead, that's good enough for me. All you're going to do is go to his place, pretend to be delivering a pizza, talk your way in, and then kill him. Easy peasy."

"What kind of pizza?"

"What the fuck difference does it make?"

"There's no reason for that kind of language. My grandmother used the f-word all the time and few people liked her."

"It can be whatever kind of pizza you want."

"Good. Because if somebody's at my door with a mushroom pizza, I'm not letting them in. The only reason mushrooms should be on a pizza is if the pizza has been sitting out so long that the mushrooms grew there naturally."

"Mushrooms wouldn't grow on a pizza no matter how long it's been sitting out."

"Have you tried?" asked Skip.

"No."

"Maybe they would in a tropical climate."

"The only way mushrooms are growing on a pizza is if you ordered a manure pizza. And if you show up at somebody's door with a manure pizza they aren't going to let you into their apartment. So this whole conversation is stupid."

"Most of my conversations are," Skip admitted.

"You're okay with the terms? No mess?"

Skip nodded. "You're the boss." He finished off the last bite of his meal. "I usually only eat two burritos on special occasions, but I think this qualifies. Can I get guacamole?"

"Sure," said Ralph.

"It's two bucks extra."

"That's fine."

"No beans. I like beans, but if you order it without them they'll sometimes give you extra meat to compensate."

"I wasn't going to order the burrito for you. I was just going to pay for it."

"Are you going to get one for yourself?"

"I might get some nachos."

"Oh, you should. They have great nachos here. They're so gooey you have to eat them with a fork. The first time I got them I didn't know that and I hadn't bothered to get a fork because I didn't think I'd need one for nachos. It was the last time I made that mistake, let me tell you. Also, the cursing isn't why people disliked my grandmother. She was just a naturally unpleasant person."

Ralph didn't have a good feeling about this guy. He wished he had connections in the underworld so he could hire a real hit man, but he wouldn't even know where to start the search, and no way could he get a professional on his budget. He'd just have to hope for the best.

He supposed he could murder Kirk himself, but, no...Ralph was no killer. Blood was gross. Ralph would almost certainly pass out, and considering that this murder was vengeance for his humiliation, he didn't want to embarrass himself further. "He couldn't satisfy his wife or kill her lover—what a frickin' loser."

He ended up getting a quesadilla instead of nachos, a decision that met with Skip's approval and led to a lengthy monologue that started with quesadillas vs. nachos but ended with the public transportation system in Portland. Ralph wasn't in favor of violence, so maybe he'd get lucky and Skip would just talk Kirk to death.

12

Kirk wanted to contact Julie.

Don't contact Julie, said his conscience.

But he really wanted to.

Tough shit. Don't do it.

Maybe she wanted him to contact her as well.

She doesn't. She said it was a one-time thing. She's married. Her husband knows you were vigorously intimate with her. He's not happy about it. Contacting her is not the intelligent course of action. It is, in fact, very, very, very, very, very, very, very dumb. Extremely dumb. Astoundingly dumb. Dumb to the twelfth power. If you do it, you can never again claim to not be dumb. Don't do it.

But...

Shut the fuck up. Let it go while you still have your fond memories and a non-severed penis. This infatuation is going to get you into a lot of trouble. It may be too late; do you even know for sure that Ralph has let it go?

Ralph, who'd received a full refund, was probably trying to pretend it had never happened. He could have barged into Kirk's apartment with a gun or a pickaxe. Since he hadn't, it was probably safe enough to assume that Ralph wouldn't come after him.

Yeah, if you don't do anything else! That's the key element. Ralph may blame himself for this misadventure, but he won't if it happens again. What if he goes completely psycho? You don't need a psycho in your life. Nobody does.

The concept, though, was that he and Julie would continue their affair in secret. She wouldn't leave the house and say, "Oh, hey, I'm off to ride Kirk again. Don't wait up." They would sneak around and stuff. Ralph would never know.

Can you trust her?

Sure, why not?

You think you can trust a woman who has already been less than discreet, whose husband will be insanely suspicious of any changes in her routine, and who obviously does not have a poker face because Ralph already knew that she had multiple orgasms?

Sure, why not?

Because he'll be expecting you two to get together again! Anytime she leaves the house alone he'll think that it could be to see you. He's going to be filled with paranoia. At least wait a few years.

His conscience was just being a worrywart.

I'm not being a fucking worrywart, you brain-dead son of a bitch! I'm trying to keep you alive! You're not thinking straight. You're thinking like somebody who has been completely mesmerized and is likely to make a decision that is not in his best interest. You need to snap out of it. This was not your first time touching a breast. Be the smart alive guy instead of the dumb dead guy.

Okay. He wouldn't try to contact her.

Are you lying to me?

No.

You're lying to your own conscience! What the hell, Kirk? I was there for all of the sex, and yes, it was really good. But you have to listen to reason.

Kirk didn't wanna.

Ask Myra what she thinks you should do.

No way was Kirk going to mention this to Myra. She'd already made him promise to lie about doing it in the first place, and he didn't want to lose a perfectly good friend with benefits over this. For all he knew, the ladies might be bi-curious...

Myra isn't going to have a threesome with you and Julie.

She—

Nope.

Myra was not a good source of advice in this case. He didn't want to explain his situation to somebody whose response would be to point at him and shriek like Donald Sutherland at the end of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

Fine. Locate a human being. Any human being. Talk them through everything that's happened up to this point, and then inquire as to whether or not they think you should get in touch with Julie again. Literally any human being.

Just because nobody would agree that he should do it didn't mean he shouldn't do it. The people dispensing advice hadn't been inside of Julie. They couldn't possibly understand.

Do you want to die?

No.

'Cause it kind of sounds like you want to die.

No!!!

Prove it.

Fine. Kirk wouldn't make an attempt to reconnect with Julie. As excruciatingly painful as it was, he'd try not to be a suicidal idiot.

13

That night, Skip wandered the city in search of prey.

Though Ralph had insisted that a practice kill was unnecessary, Skip didn't want to mess up by being unprepared. He'd heard—perhaps from a James Bond movie—that killing people got easier the more you did it, and though he didn't want to become a serial or a spree killer, it couldn't hurt to have at least one notch on his belt before his first paying gig.

In a perfect world, he'd stumble upon a mugging in process and be able to slay the assailant in a heroic manner. But that was pretty unlikely. Also, muggers had weapons, which would make them a lot harder to murder without getting murdered himself. So most likely Skip would end up just strangling a hobo.

He wasn't sure where to look for them. There were several intersections where homeless people held up cardboard signs, but they didn't really do that after dark. He figured if he kept walking around, he'd eventually find somebody sleeping in an alley. It would be an easier task if he was willing to go into one of the bad neighborhoods, but Skip didn't want to feel unsafe.

Skip took his cell phone out of his pocket and checked the time. 1:21 AM. He'd been wandering the city in search of prey for almost five hours. This was starting to feel like a waste of time. He wished there was somebody he could ask for advice. How did one go about finding a mentor in this field?

He knew he should call it quits for the night, but he'd really hoped to get in this practice session. It was important to Skip that he did a good job for Ralph. The desire to do his best at every task was a personality trait that he'd possessed since he was a kid—he just cared too much.

It was unlikely that Ralph would find himself in the position of hiring somebody to murder another one of his wife's lovers, but if he was in the market for another revenge kill, he wanted Ralph to think, "You know, that guy Skip did an excellent job, and I should definitely use his services again." Repeat customers were a crucial element of any thriving business.

That said, it was also important to be well rested. If you yawned while you were trying to kill somebody, that afforded them an opportunity to escape. Skip didn't want to lose a victim because he was sleepy. He decided that he would search until 1:30 AM and then try again tomorrow.

At 1:29 AM, he saw a homeless man sleeping on a bench.

Skip didn't believe in God, but he did believe in a heavenly being with all of God's powers. Clearly, this heavenly being was looking out for him tonight. Skip walked over to the bench.

The man had a thick gray beard, was dressed in filthy, torn clothes, and clutched a large brown bottle to his chest. He snored softly. Then, as if aware that somebody was there, he opened his eyes.

Skip gave him five dollars and left.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he told himself. That had gone terribly.

It wasn't too late. The man hadn't moved from the bench. Skip wouldn't take his five dollars back—that would be stealing—but he could still kill the guy. He spent a couple of moments thinking murderous thoughts and then returned to the bench.

"Hello," he said.

The man opened his eyes again. "Yeah?"

"May I sit down?"

"I guess so." The man sat up, making room.

Skip sat next to him. "How's everything going?"

"Pretty bad."

"Because you're homeless?"

"Yeah."

"Do you ever feel suicidal?"

The man shook his head. "Nah."

"You sure?"

"Death is permanent. I'll find a way out of this."

"You might not, though."

"I've had a string of bad luck, but nothing lasts forever. It's just a rough spell. It'll get better."

"I don't know," said Skip. "Sometimes it's best to cut your losses."

"Are you trying to depress me?"

"No."

The man glared at him. "I appreciate the five bucks, but I don't need your negative attitude."

"Don't you ever think about how it might be better to pass on to the next world? You could be at peace. No more suffering. No more shame."

"I'm not ashamed."

"No way do you sleep on a bench and not think about the sweet release of death."

"Are you trying to get me to kill myself? Is this some kind of bet?"

"No. I'm offering to do it for you."

The man, with surprisingly quick reflexes, took out a knife and pointed it at Skip. "You stay the hell away from me."

"I didn't mean to offend you."

"Get out of here or I'll jab this right into your throat!"

Skip got off the bench and held up his hands to show that they were empty. "I apologize. If I'd known you'd take it this personally I never would have said anything. I just think that some people are better off dead, but if you don't consider yourself to be one of them, I won't try to change your mind."

"I said, get out of here! Actually, no, give me your wallet first."

"I need it," said Skip.

"Give me your goddamn wallet!"

Skip took his wallet out of his pocket and handed it to the man. The man opened it up, took his forty-six dollars in cash, then flung the wallet down the sidewalk.

"Maybe you're homeless because you're unpleasant," said Skip.

The man waved the knife at him. It wasn't actually a very big knife, and didn't look that sharp; it may, in fact, have been a butter knife. But the man was waving it like he knew how to cut a bitch. "Get out of here."

"Maybe we should—"

"Leave before I open you neck to groin."

In theory, this was a good development. If he wanted the experience necessary to make his murder-for-hire go smoothly, it was more useful to practice on an angry man with a knife than somebody who simply offered up his neck for the strangling. On the other hand, Skip didn't want the guy to stab him.

"We—"

"Leave!"

"But—"

The man jabbed the knife at him. The man was still sitting on the bench and Skip wasn't anywhere close to being within striking distance, but he still flinched. This was kind of embarrassing, though at least he hadn't yelped.

"I'll go," said Skip. "I meant no disrespect. I wasn't trying to suggest that your life isn't worth living. The problem was with me, not you."

"Are you going to get the hell out of here, or do I need to gouge out your eyeballs and use your head as a fucking bowling ball?"

Skip wondered if that hostility could be useful. "Do you want to kill somebody with me?"

The man raised the knife as if to throw it, and Skip took the hint. He hurried over to his wallet, scooped it up, then fled the area.

He walked for a few blocks, feeling as if this was an unpromising indicator of future success. But at least the man hadn't stolen his credit cards or his punchcard (eight more submarine sandwiches and he got a free one). It was difficult to make the case that this practice session had gone well, but Skip wouldn't get disheartened. He was sure the actual murder would work out fine.

14

He peeled off his shirt, revealing a tattooed abdomen with rock-hard pectorals. I sucked in a deep breath. His chest looked even better than the picture in his online profile. I'd assumed it had been Photoshopped, but you can't Photoshop real life, at least not with current technology. How had I—innocent, bookish me—been so blessed as to end up in this hotel room with Draven?

"Shall I continue?" he asked, mischief in his piercing blue eyes.

I let out a coquettish giggle and bit my lower lip. "Please do."

He dropped his pants and I couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath. I'd never seen such a manhood. It was larger at rest than most of the ones I'd seen fully aroused. If he was a grower as well as a shower, it might hurt. But, I thought with a giggle, there was nothing wrong with a bit of pain under the right circumstances.

"Do you approve?" he asked, with a gentle smile that made it clear that he knew perfectly well that I approved. Goodness, how I approved!

"Yes!" I said, and it was all I could do not to clap my hands with delight. Oh, the things he could do to me with that manhood! It was so pleasing to the eye, and I had little reason to doubt that it was equally pleasing to the touch...and perhaps the taste!

I think he knew what I was thinking, because his manhood began to rise. And rise. And rise some more. How alert could it get?

When its ascent finally stopped, Draven looked deservedly proud.

"I promise I'll be gentle," he said.

"Promise me you won't," I told him with a giggle.

Julie saved the file. That was enough writing for today. She was ridiculously horny, and Ralph wasn't going to be able to satisfy her needs. She either needed to get in a self-love session or to contact Kirk. Masturbation was the smarter option, but contacting Kirk would be much more fulfilling.

She decided not to go with the smart option.

It might freak him out that she had his e-mail address (acquired from Ralph's account) but she was pretty sure Kirk had enjoyed the experience as much as she had. Hopefully she hadn't given off the vibe of somebody who would show up unannounced in the middle of the night with self-inflicted wounds screaming for him to tell her that she was the only woman he'd ever loved.

He'd get over it.

She sent him a quick e-mail.

* * *

Kirk stared at his computer screen.

Hi, Kirk! It's Julie from the night before last. Presumably you remember me. I criticized the book club selection. Any chance you're up for an encore? Let me know.

Wow. All of that arguing with himself over whether he should contact her, and she'd contacted him instead. What a waste of agonizing indecision. He wasn't sure how she got his e-mail address and he didn't care.

Absolutely, he wrote back. Tonight?

* * *

Daytime is better, wrote Julie. Unless you have to work.

* * *

Kirk did indeed have to work, but he didn't give a shit. His boss would get over it. And if his boss didn't get over it, he could find a new job. It was probably time to start considering other career opportunities anyway. Another hotel?

* * *

How about your place? Julie asked.

* * *

Having Julie come to Kirk's place was a terrible idea.

Sure, he replied.

* * *

Ralph had been monitoring Julie's e-mail since the day they returned from their honeymoon. He'd assumed that she had a secret e-mail account that she was using to plan her affairs, so he was surprised to see this back-and-forth communication with Kirk coming through her regular address.

Did she not have a secret account? And if she didn't have a secret account, did that mean she wasn't actually trying to cheat on him before?

Ralph put that out of his mind. He was so furious that he could kill Kirk, if he hadn't already hired somebody else to do it for him. And he was pretty freaking unhappy with Julie at the moment. When Kirk went missing, maybe Ralph would offer subtle hints that he'd been the one responsible without actually confessing to the crime. Or maybe he'd string up Kirk's body with an unnerving message carved into his chest. He'd have to figure out how psychotic he wanted to go.

He hurried out of the office building and called Skip.

"Hey," Skip answered.

"Is this a secure line?"

"It's my regular cell phone."

"Can you talk privately?"

"I'm in line at the grocery store."

"Screw it. I need you to kill that fucker as soon as possible."

"Can I buy my kitty litter first?"

"Yeah, that's fine. What's your cat's name?"

"Oh, I don't have a cat."

"I need you to get over to his place as soon as possible. He's making plans to fornicate with my wife again. I want him dead before she gets there."

"Still just him, right?"

"Yes."

"I could kill him while they were fornicating. That would dissuade her from ever having sex again. Including with you, maybe, so I guess that's not a good idea. I probably shouldn't be saying this out loud—some people are staring at me." Skip raised his voice, clearly speaking to the other shoppers. "Kidding! Just kidding! Passing the time while we wait in line!"

"Dead before she gets there. Don't let me down."

"I won't," said Skip. To somebody else, he said, "This is twelve items! You don't count individual tubs of yogurt!"

"I'll send you the address."

"Cool. I'll let you know when he's...when the job's done."

Ralph disconnected the call. Was it possible that his rage was so intense that he was making a terrible mistake by hiring an obvious idiot to commit murder?

Yes, it was most definitely possible.

In fact, Ralph might go so far as to say that it was likely.

He didn't care. Kirk had to die.

15

Kirk hurriedly tidied up his apartment, which only took a couple of minutes. As a kid, he'd been a total slob, and he'd carried that into his adult life after moving into his own place. But on his twenty-fifth birthday, he'd been at a bar where he met two beautiful women who offered to give him a birthday present he'd never forget. After confirming that they weren't hookers without actually asking if they were hookers (which would piss them off if they weren't hookers) he took them back to his place. He couldn't believe it. His fantasy was about to come true. He could get fired from his job, break his arm, lose a couple of second-tier relatives, and get severely burned and this would still be the greatest year of his life.

But when the ladies stepped inside, they'd both wrinkled their noses. Dirty clothes on the floor. A half-eaten bowl of Alpha-Bits on the coffee table. An unpleasant smell from an unidentifiable source.

"You know what, maybe this isn't such a great idea," one of the ladies had said.

Kirk, panicked, had offered to do a quick and thorough cleanup, but it was too late. The moment was over. His slovenly habits had cost him a night with two women at once. Though only one of them left and he got to have acrobatic sex with the other, it was still a brutal lesson. From that moment on, Kirk kept his living area nice and clean.

Everything was ready for Julie's visit except—shit!—he'd run out of condoms. Julie might bring some, but she also might not, and "But I thought you were going to bring them!" was not a good way to start a passionate sexual encounter. Though Kirk was irresponsible in many ways, such as carrying on with a married woman after her husband had shown up at his apartment to warn him never to do it again, but he did always practice safe sex.

No worries. He had time to make it to the convenience store and back before she arrived.

* * *

Skip had prepared himself for the possibility that Ralph might send him on the job early, so he'd bought the pizza last night. He'd also eaten a couple of slices, which would be difficult to explain if his target decided to open the box, but Skip planned to kill him before he opened the box.

He walked up to apartment 204 and rang the doorbell.

Nobody answered.

He knocked.

Nobody answered.

Skip had run through eighty different scenarios, but all of them had involved Kirk opening the door. He wasn't sure what to do now. He wished he'd brought a lock-picking kit and also learned how to use one.

He tested the doorknob, just in case.

The door was unlocked.

Skip quietly opened it, stepped inside, and closed it again. The apartment was silent.

"Hello?" Skip called out.

Nobody responded.

Who would be so foolish as to leave their door unlocked?

* * *

It occurred to Kirk that he didn't specifically remember locking his door. No big deal; it wasn't as if he was in a high crime apartment complex, but since he was putting himself in physical danger by letting Julie come over, he needed to be a little more careful. He couldn't let his elation at getting to see her again cause him to make mistakes.

* * *

Skip set the pizza down on Kirk's dining room table. This had worked out pretty well. People were generally more surprised to find somebody waiting inside their home than knocking on their front door. Skip would find a place to hide, wait for his unsuspecting victim to wander past, and then wrap his enormous hands around his neck. Squeeze. Crunch. Simple.

He decided to just hide in the bedroom. Because he was smart, he brought the box of pizza with him so that Kirk wouldn't think, "Why is there a pizza on my dining room table? That's peculiar."

It was a pretty nice bedroom, but there were no candles next to the bed or rose petals on the sheets. If Ralph's wife were coming over to do things with him, Skip would've strewn rose petals over the sheets. It was common romantic courtesy. Perhaps that was why Kirk wasn't home; he was off getting a rose. Maybe some chocolate and champagne. Skip didn't like the idea of stealing from a dead man, but he was totally taking the heart-shaped box of chocolates if Kirk came home with one.

He sat on the edge of the bed and ate a piece of pizza while he waited.

About ten minutes later, he heard the door open.

He stood up.

Should he walk out into the living room, or wait and hope that Kirk would walk into the bedroom? This was probably a strategy he should've worked out during the ten minutes that he was just sitting there with nothing to do.

Skip decided to wait for two minutes for Kirk to walk into the bedroom. If he didn't, Skip would go out there and kill him.

* * *

Something felt wrong.

Was somebody inside his apartment?

"Julie?" Kirk called out.

There was no evidence that anybody had come inside, but Kirk couldn't help but feel that he wasn't alone. Maybe it was just because he knew he'd left the door unlocked. Julie shouldn't have been able to get here this soon, but maybe she'd driven really, really fast and was currently crouched on his bed, completely naked, with her ass in the air.

"I'm coming in," he announced. "I hope you're decent."

Kirk walked over to the bedroom and peeked inside. There was a pizza box on his bed.

Oh my God, he thought.

Julie was the kind of woman who would eat pizza in bed. He loved her. He wanted to marry her. He wanted her to divorce Ralph and marry him. Or maybe they could make it easy and kill Ralph instead.

Where the hell had that thought come from?

He would not be killing Ralph, unless the pizza was double pepperoni, double cheese.

"Oh, Julie!" he called out. "Where are you, my sweetie?"

Was that too much? Would she object to him calling her his sweetie, even in playful jest? She had no idea that he wanted to kill her current husband and marry her. He needed to be more careful with his terms of endearment. "Hey, Julie...?"

He stepped into his bedroom. He immediately noticed that somebody was standing right next to the doorway. This somebody was the wrong size and the wrong gender to be Julie. It was a huge guy, the kind you'd hire if you wanted to send a message that somebody should stop messing with your wife if he didn't want his legs broken.

"Uh..." Kirk said.

The man grabbed him by the neck with both hands. Then he began to squeeze.

Okay, so this wasn't a "message" type of break-in. This was a "kill" one.

Kirk tried to knee the man in the groin. But the man anticipated the move and pressed his legs together, so Kirk just kneed him in the upper leg, which had little impact.

The man squeezed harder.

Kirk wanted to reason with him, but the best he could do was to make gagging sounds.

He couldn't breathe. This surprise was so much less pleasant than finding a naked Julie on his bed with her ass in the air.

Then the man released his grip. Kirk fell to the floor, gasping for air.

The man sat down on the bed. "I can't do it."

Kirk lay there for a moment, rubbing his neck and waiting for his vision to return to sharp focus.

The man glanced down at him. "Can I get you a bottle of water or something?"

Kirk nodded.

"Do you have any in the fridge?"

Kirk nodded again. The man left. Kirk grabbed the edge of the bed and pulled himself upright as the man returned with a bottle of water. He twisted off the cap and handed it to him.

Kirk sat down on the bed and took a sip. "Thank you," he said.

"I want to have a killer instinct, but I just can't summon it," said the man, sitting down next to him. "When I stood there strangling you, I just kept thinking, 'I sure hope his eyes don't pop out.' That's not what you're supposed to think when you're strangling somebody. You're supposed to want their eyes to pop out. It means you're doing it right."

Kirk drank some more of the water and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. "I probably don't need to ask, but why were you trying to strangle me?"

"You slept with my employer's wife."

"That's what I thought."

"And you were planning to do it again."

"Yeah."

"He was pretty upset."

Kirk nodded. "I see that."

"This is really embarrassing," said the man. "I knew there were a lot of ways I could screw this up, but I didn't think I'd completely wuss out. Your throat was right there in my hands. A quick twist and I could've snapped your neck. What a waste."

"Well, if it means anything, I'm grateful."

"That doesn't mean much."

"So is it safe to assume that you've abandoned the idea of killing me?"

The man was silent for a long moment.

"Sir...?" Kirk asked.

"Yeah, I feel like I probably shouldn't kill you. It'll just make me feel guilty."

"Nobody wants guilt. It eats you alive. Gives you sleepless nights. Ulcers."

"I already said I wasn't going to kill you," said the man. "You don't have to keep trying to talk me out of it."

"Fair enough. What's your plan?"

The man shrugged. "Are you willing to fake your death and move out of the country?"

"I'd love to, but finances are kind of tight right now. You'll notice I didn't try to bribe you to let me live."

"I guess I'll just tell Ralph the truth. What's he gonna do, hire somebody to kill me, too?"

"Based on his track record I doubt the person he picked would be effective."

"Anyway, it's time to accept that I'm not the savage beast that I thought I was. I never thought that I could murder people left and right with a machete, but I figured I could break somebody's neck without getting all humanitarian. I suppose I should have understood this about myself a lot sooner, considering that I'd never harm a dog or a cat. Oh well. Sucks to be me." He stood up. "I'm not good at giving advice. However, when Ralph's wife shows up, I'd maybe suggest not boning her."

"Yeah, that's for the best," said Kirk.

"I don't think Ralph is going to get over this anytime soon. If you can't flee the country, I'd at least invest in a bulletproof vest or a suit of armor."

"Will do."

"I've taken up enough of your time. Do you want the rest of the pizza?"

"Sure."

"Mind if I take a slice for the road?"

"Of course not."

The man opened the box and took a slice. Ham and pineapple. Ugh. Kirk was glad he'd known this wasn't Julie's pizza before he saw the toppings.

The doorbell rang.

"Uh-oh," said the man. "You think that's the wife?"

"Yeah."

"This could be awkward."

16

"Should I hide under the bed?" the man asked.

"You can't fit under the bed."

"Should I hide in the closet?"

"Just stay in here. I'm going to send her away."

Kirk hurried into the living room. He was perspiring heavily from his near-death experience and wondered if there were red marks on his neck. He took a moment to compose himself, then walked over and opened the door.

Julie, looking positively radiant, smiled as she saw him.

Then she stepped inside his apartment, threw her arms around him, and gave him a passionate kiss.

Kirk tried to explain that this was a rather bad time, but it was difficult to get the message across with her lips grinding against his. She kicked the door closed.

Maybe a quickie on the couch before I send her away—no!!!

He pulled his lips away. "There's something I need to tell you before you get too worked up."

Julie's eyes widened. "Who's that?" she asked.

Kirk turned around, as if she might be referring to somebody besides the extremely large man who'd just tried to murder him. "Oh, him..."

"Sorry," said the man. "When I heard the door close I thought she'd left."

"Who are you?" Julie asked.

"I'm Skip. I'm a friend."

Julie looked at Kirk, then back at Skip, then back at Kirk. She smiled. "A friend, huh?"

"Yes," said Kirk.

"A close friend?"

"Reasonably, I guess."

"Is this a present for me, you kinky boy?"

For one blissful moment of ignorance Kirk couldn't figure out what she was talking about. Then it hit him with the weight of a semi truck landing on him after it plummeted off a skyscraper. "What? Oh, no, no, no, no, no..."

"No, no, no, no, no..." Skip added.

"Then why was he waiting in the bedroom?"

Kirk frantically tried to think of a good answer. His mind went blank. And he knew that if he didn't come up with a good answer in the next split-second, Julie would know that he was trying to think of an answer instead of telling the truth.

"I was fixing something," said Skip.

"Fixing what?"

"The floor."

"What's wrong with Kirk's floor?"

"It's broken."

"May I see?"

Skip didn't answer.

"You don't have to be nervous," Julie told Kirk. "I love this idea. Love it, love it, love it. They say that a guy's ultimate fantasy is to be with two women at once, but lots of women have the same kind of fantasy about two guys. It's perfectly normal."

"That's not why he's here at all," said Kirk. "Total misunderstanding. You just happened to show up at a weird time."

"So I'm supposed to believe that you, knowing I was on my way over to have wild sex with you, let Skip in here to fix the broken floor in the bedroom?"

"It sounds crazy when you state it in a factual way like that," Kirk admitted, "but yes."

"Yes," said Skip.

"But like I said, Skip was just leaving."

"If Skip's leaving, I'm leaving," said Julie.

"Excuse me?" Kirk asked.

"You can't tempt me with the possibility of being ravished by two handsome, muscular men and then snatch it away. I want both of you. It's both or nothing."

"He's not all that handsome," said Kirk. "He's big and well-defined, yeah, but look at his face. You can't tell me that's more than a little above average."

"I don't mind sharing," said Skip.

"Anyway, like I said, this was a misunderstanding," Kirk told Julie. "An extreme misunderstanding. Super extreme mega humungous misunderstanding."

"He said he didn't mind sharing," said Julie.

"Well, of course he doesn't! If you see somebody eating cake you don't mind sharing their cake! It's the person with the cake who minds sharing it!"

"I'm not sure if comparing me to cake is an insult or a compliment."

"Compliment."

"I would've taken it as a compliment," said Skip.

"I may believe you when you say that you didn't set this up," said Julie. "Still, you're both here now, and Skip is willing to play, and these days I've decided to go after what I want. My new mantra is 'If there are two gorgeous men, why choose between them?'"

"You'd already chosen me before you got here, though," said Kirk. "I mean, are you going to run off with him if I say no?"

Julie shook her head. "Like I said, it's both of you or neither. All three of us win or all three of us lose."

"You're kidding, right?" asked Kirk.

"Is there anything about my tone or body language to make you think I'm kidding?"

"This new plan doesn't really work for me."

"Nobody is forcing you to do anything," said Julie. "I've set the parameters by which I'll have sex with you today, and it's completely up to you if you want to accept these terms."

"This is blackmail."

"It's not blackmail. It's conditions."

"Shouldn't you get to know him first?" asked Kirk.

"We can all go out for sushi if you want."

"I...I...I don't think I can," said Kirk.

"I'm not asking you to swordfight with your boners," Julie informed him. "All of the attention is supposed to be on me. You're two straight guys giving pleasure to a woman. Nothing wrong with that."

"I don't want to see his junk."

"You probably will indeed see his junk at some point during the proceedings," Julie admitted.

"And I don't want that to happen."

"What's the big deal? When you're watching porn, do you turn away in revulsion every time there's a penis on your laptop screen?"

Kirk didn't answer.

"Porn is filled with penises. You watch them voluntarily. Unless you watch exclusively girl/girl porn, you've been sitting there with your pants unzipped staring at a great big erect cock. Whether there's a woman's mouth covering some of it or not, it's still a great big erect cock. You may not be interested in paying to watch your friend Skip stroke himself, but I guarantee that if I went through your internet browser history I'd find some great big erect cocks on display and you thought nothing of looking at them. Shall we test this theory?"

Kirk absolutely did not want Julie to see his Internet browser history. There were some things you saved for the eightieth or ninetieth date.

"I see your point," said Kirk. "I don't like it but I see it."

It bothered Kirk that she was pressuring him into this. But it was a relationship based on adultery and money exchanging hands, so it was difficult to make the case that she should respect his feelings. He supposed that he could just say that he wasn't comfortable having a threeway with a guy who'd tried to kill him a few minutes ago, but if he brought up the murder attempt, it was safe to assume that Julie would hurry out of the apartment without having sex with either of them.

"So are you in?" Julie asked. "I'd give you more time to think about it, but every minute spent soul-searching is one less minute I'm being sandwiched."

"May Skip and I discuss this in private?"

"You may."

Kirk gestured for Skip to join him in the bedroom. He had a small apartment, so it was either that or the bathroom.

"Don't get started without me," said Julie as the men went off together.

Kirk shut the door then turned to Skip. "Get the fuck out of my apartment."

"Why the hell would I want to do that?"

"She didn't come over here to do you. She came over here to do me."

"Looks like she changed her plans."

"This isn't fair."

"It's fair for me," Skip noted.

"You tried to kill me. I could have you arrested. Do you know the minimum sentence for attempted murder?" asked Kirk, who didn't.

Skip did not seem intimidated by the threat. "I know this is upsetting for you, but Julie is gorgeous and sexy. I'm not passing up this opportunity. I believe, deep in my heart, that you'll have fun."

"Have you done this before?"

Skip shook his head. "Started to one time. Didn't work out."

"Why not?"

"The Ferris wheel operator kicked us off."

"I'll pay you to leave," said Kirk.

"Five hundred bucks and I'm outta here."

"How about fifty?"

"How about you bite me?" Skip was silent for a moment. "Not literally and not in a sexy way. I guess what I meant to say was no."

"You're basically cock-blocking me," said Kirk. "Isn't there a code of honor about this sort of thing? Guys don't do this to each other."

"Sorry. I'm a feminist. Hoes before bros."

Kirk wanted to punch something. Anything. He punched his pillow a few times, which didn't ease his frustration and kind of made it look like he was fluffing it up.

"I've only known Julie for a couple of minutes," said Skip, "but I'm almost positive she wasn't bluffing when she said she'd walk out of here. So your choices are to have an awesome threesome with a beautiful woman and a dude who promises to respect your personal space, or to sit alone and pout. Why choose to pout?"

Kirk sighed. If he were forced to choose between sharing Julie or losing her, he'd have to go with sharing. And he was running out of time to make the decision, so though he couldn't believe he was actually going to do something like this...yes, he'd do this.

"Fine," said Kirk. "But we have to set some ground rules."

17

"I'm listening," said Skip.

"Rule one," said Kirk. "We don't touch each other."

"That's reasonable," said Skip. "Are there any exceptions?"

"If you're already trying to find loopholes, I'm just going to tell Julie to leave."

"What I meant was, if you're going at it hot and heavy and you lose your balance, is it okay for me to reach out and grab your shoulder to steady you, or should I let you fall off the bed?"

"I'm not going to fall off the bed."

"What about when we're switching sides?" asked Skip. "Is it okay to accidentally brush against each other, or do we have a firm rule where I cross on the left and you cross on the right?"

"Are you messing with me?"

"You're trying to set rules. I'm making sure I understand them."

"We don't touch each other. Simple as that."

Skip nodded. "I won't lovingly caress your testicles, then."

"Do you even want to do this? Why would you say something like that?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just amused by your homophobia."

"I'm not homophobic."

"You most certainly are," said Skip.

"No, all I'm doing is making sure that certain lines aren't crossed."

"The line into perceived gayness."

"I've never had a threeway and I don't know you," said Kirk. "You might say, 'Here, Kirk, let me help you guide that thing in' and think you're just trying to be considerate. You're not guiding in a goddamn thing. It's better to establish that before we get started and avoid uncomfortable moments later."

"I understand."

"You can look at anything you want. You can stare at my gyrating ass with your jaw wide open for all I care. But no eye contact."

"What if you just happen to glance over?" asked Skip. "Is it my responsibility to avert my eyes, or is that the job of the person who turned their head?"

"Fleeting eye contact is fine," said Kirk. "Just no staring."

"Unless it's at your gyrating ass."

"Right."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Don't get any semen on me."

"I wasn't planning to."

"I'm dead serious about this. Not one drop. If a single molecule of your seed hits any part of my body, even a toenail, I will beat the shit out of you. I don't care what I'm doing at the time. Not one speck. This is non-negotiable."

"What I'll do is give you plenty of warning," said Skip. "I won't just make sounds, I will give verbal confirmation that my orgasm is imminent, and if you're in a location where you might get splashed you'll have time to move to a safe haven. Do me a favor and say 'Heard!' so I know that you heard and understand what's about to happen. I can get some pretty good distance, so I'm glad we're working out the details ahead of time."

Kirk didn't appreciate Skip's smart-ass tone when he was only trying to ensure that this experience didn't end abruptly with violence. If everybody was too caught up in what they were doing, he could envision a scenario in which Skip's cum jettisoned over Julie's back and across Kirk's chest, and that was simply unacceptable.

"Please take this seriously," said Kirk.

"I am. And I'll thank you to keep your own ejaculate on your side of the bed as well."

"That won't be a problem."

"See that it isn't. Any other rules?"

"No recording."

"Understood."

"That includes audio."

Skip nodded. "I'm completely with you."

"Did you bring condoms?"

"Uh, no. Not to a planned murder. That's a whole different level of deviance."

"I didn't think so."

"You've got some, right?"

"Yes. And you're reimbursing me for each one that you use."

"That's a little petty."

"It's extremely petty. But I'm not donating my rubbers to the cause of you getting laid. You're buying them from me. At a markup."

"What if I just replace them the next time we do this?"

"Fuck you."

"I wish your attitude was better," said Skip. "We're about to do something awesome and I feel like you're being kind of pissy about the whole thing."

"I'm still hoping you'll leave."

"Not gonna happen."

"Here's my final rule," said Kirk. "Respect her."

"That goes without saying."

"Not when two guys are double-teaming her, it doesn't. I don't want to hear any 'Take it, slut!' or 'Gag on it!' or anything like that."

"That thought never crossed my mind," said Skip. "I'll be polite."

"You don't have to be polite. Just respectful."

"I'll be respectful."

"All right. Every other rule will be common sense."

"Should we have a secret signal if one of us is doing something that the other one doesn't like?" Skip asked. "Like maybe we tug our ear or something?"

"No. If you're doing something I don't like I'll tell you to knock it the fuck off."

"Fair enough."

There was a knock at the door. "Are you two still talking this over or are you spooning?" Julie asked. "Not trying to rush you, but I can't be here all day."

Kirk walked over and opened the door. "Sorry."

"Did you work out the terms of our orgy?"

"Does this count as an orgy?" Skip asked.

"Doesn't it?"

Skip shrugged. "I thought it went threesome, foursome, orgy."

"I haven't researched it," Julie admitted, "but I believe anything over two participants is technically an orgy."

"That doesn't sound right. If I told my friends that I was going to an orgy, they'd assume there were at least four other people there."

"I don't know the official definition," said Kirk, "but I do know that people at an orgy shouldn't be pedantic."

"Point taken," said Skip.

"So did you two work out your homophobic concerns?" asked Julie.

"It's not homophobic, for fuck's sake!" Kirk insisted. "You can be in favor of gay marriage and equal rights under the law and be appalled by conversion therapy and believe that we are born with our sexual preferences and still not want some guy's boner rubbing against your leg."

"I was never going to rub my boner against his leg," Skip clarified.

"Let's avoid the use of the word 'boner' from this point forward," said Julie. "I'd like us to be mature about this."

"At least he didn't say 'ding-dong,'" Skip noted.

Julie stared at him for a very long moment. "Maybe this was a mistake."

"I think you're right," said Kirk.

"No, no, I was just trying to be funny," said Skip. "Kirk is really nervous so I wanted to help ease the tension."

"Silence may be a better tactic," Julie told him.

Skip nodded and mimed zipping his lips.

"I assume you two have discussed your own rules, so here are mine. Don't pull my hair. Don't even wrap it around your fingers and use it to gently guide my head. I understand that some women like that, but I'm not one of them. You can gently run your hands through my hair in a loving manner, just don't pull it. Is everybody okay with that?"

"Yes," said Kirk.

"Know that I can withdraw consent at any time. No matter what's happening, no matter how tangled up our bodies become, I have the right to end it, no questions asked. You will accept this with zero whining."

"Of course."

"And no double penetration this time."

"I don't want double penetration any time," said Kirk.

"We're only talking about this time. Anal on its own probably isn't going to happen either, so don't get attached to the idea. In fact, I'm going to officially take it off the table so that there aren't any hurt feelings later. Beyond that, don't leave bruises or tooth marks, respect that I'm not as limber as I used to be, don't use the c-word in any context, and let's have some fun!"

18

Julie had been bluffing, of course.

She desperately wanted to fulfill her two-hot-men-at-once fantasy, but she wouldn't have walked out the door if Kirk had refused to go along with it. She would've watched Skip depart, feeling forlorn, and then stripped off her clothes and rode Kirk like she was trying to break through to the apartment below. Julie was here to get well-laid, and though this was the dream scenario, the fantasy scenario, the "oh my freaking God I must have saved a few dozen kids from a burning orphanage in a previous life to receive this glorious reward!" scenario, she would have accepted one-on-one sex with Kirk if necessary.

She was glad it wasn't necessary.

She felt a little bad about the blackmail, but it wasn't really blackmail, and she also had to admit to herself that she didn't actually feel all that bad about it. This was a win-win-win situation. Despite his misgivings, she was confident that Kirk would look back at this as an afternoon well spent.

Kirk and Skip just stood there, each jaw slightly open, as if unsure how to proceed.

She extended a hand to each of them. "C'mere."

They both stepped forward and took her hand. It was a surprisingly graceful move, with both of them touching her at the exact same moment, and it was a promising sign that things might be equally graceful when Kirk was fucking her from behind while she went down on Skip. Or vice-versa. No, and vice-versa.

She turned to Kirk first, because he had dibs, and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. Then she turned to Skip and did the same. It was the fastest she'd ever kissed two men sequentially, and that counted the pecks on the cheek she got at her wedding. She liked it. She liked it a lot. She expected to like a great deal about this afternoon.

When she turned back to Kirk, she kissed him with a little more passion. Still no tongue and not a lingering kiss, but harder than before. Then she turned back to Skip and did the same thing. Skip was an extremely good kisser, which was a relief, because though she was prepared to send Skip away if his skills were insufficient, she didn't want to.

She continued trading kisses, getting more intense each time. It was more exciting than she could have ever imagined, and when she'd imagined this (approximately every other night for the entirety of her adult life) it had been really freaking exciting. And then—victory!—Skip kissed the back of her neck as she kissed Kirk on the lips. This was what it was all about. Now it was time for their tongues to come into play; she made out with Kirk as Skip kissed her neck and ears.

What she really wanted was for the two guys to suddenly discover their bisexual tendencies and start making out themselves, but she was 99.9% sure that would not happen, and she sure as hell wasn't going to risk messing this up with even subtle nudges in that direction. She was content to stick to being the center of attention and save her viewing of hot guy/guy action for her laptop computer with the private browsing function turned on.

She turned her head, hoping that Kirk would take over Skip's role as the neck/ear stimulator. He did. She then made out with Skip, who was superb to make out with, despite a bit of pizza breath. That was okay—she liked pizza.

Julie slid her hands down each of their chests, past the waistline of their pants, and down a bit further to check on the status of their arousal. Skip was already fully erect, unless his penis was so large that it felt fully erect at half-mast. That was probably too much to hope for, so she'd assume that there was little or no growth potential left. Kirk wasn't there yet. He wasn't at a "just got out of the pool" level, but he was nowhere near his previous glory. That was no problem at all. They'd only gotten started.

Skip moved away from her lips, and she now had a guy kissing each side of her neck. It was amazing. Everybody should try it. She literally had no complaints about the sensation she was feeling at this moment. She tilted her head back and let out a soft moan as the men gave her neck all of the attention that she agreed it deserved, and then moved down to her shoulders.

She swiveled around to kiss Kirk on the lips, and Skip began to kiss the shoulder that Kirk had previously been kissing. This was good. She didn't want them establishing territory.

Julie almost dropped to her knees, but decided that she wasn't done with her own pleasure quite yet. She unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it to the floor. The men gazed at her chest with great interest. As if they'd rehearsed it, one hand went to each breast. Julie reached behind her back, unfastened her bra, and let it drop to the floor next to her blouse. It landed on her foot, and when she tried to kick it away, the strap caught on to her toe. She kicked a couple of times to dislodge it, but that didn't work. She decided that this was not a problem that needed to be solved at this particular moment, and returned her attention to the fact that each man was kissing one of her breasts.

It was mind-boggling how good this felt. It simply wasn't the kind of sensation you could experience if there were only two people in the bedroom. She'd had both of her breasts teased simultaneously, of course, but not with lips. That wasn't possible unless the pleasure-giver had a freakishly wide mouth, like some nightmarish cartoon character that shouldn't be going anywhere near a woman's boobs.

"Don't be gentle with them," she said.

The men switched from kissing to licking.

One of Julie's legs almost buckled beneath her, but she kept her balance. She ran each of her hands through their hair, not holding their heads in place but making it clear that she was happy to have them there.

The men, working as an excellent team, switched from licking to sucking.

Her other leg started having problems doing its job of keeping her upright. She'd have to move to a horizontal position soon, though not before...

She cried out and her knees painfully smacked together as she came.

Kirk and Skip stopped sucking her nipples.

"Did you just come?" Skip asked.

Julie nodded.

"From that?"

She nodded again.

"Did you know about this ability?" Skip asked Kirk.

"Yep."

"Wow."

"I know, right?"

"I didn't tell you to stop," Julie politely informed them.

The men resumed sucking on her nipples.

In many ways, women got the short end of the stick as far as biology was concerned. Menstruation, obviously. Peeing was less convenient. She had not personally experienced childbirth but all available evidence indicated that men got a far better deal in the production of a new life. But there was one great big way in which women had the biological advantage: multiple orgasms.

The second one didn't take long to arrive.

The men again seemed impressed. Julie wasn't sure if they thought it was her sensitivity, or if they'd decided that they were the best nipple-suckers in the known universe. (They were very good, but it was her sensitivity.)

She definitely wasn't going to be able to stand up much longer. However, she also wasn't ready to lie on the bed. Instead, she dropped to her knees.

It was time to get these gentlemen rock-hard. No, diamond-hard.

Some women viewed blowjobs as a necessary evil. Julie was not one of them. It wasn't her favorite sexual act (for example, it ranked behind receiving oral sex herself) but she thoroughly enjoyed doing it. And having two erections at face-level was a big part of her threesome fantasy.

She ran one hand over each available crotch. Skip was still nice and firm, and Kirk was doing better. It was quite clear that Kirk, though wonderfully endowed, was going to remain the smaller of the two even when he'd reached his full magnificence. She hoped this didn't upset him. Somebody had to have the smaller dick. There was no shame in it. Maybe Skip would have a weird curve or something to even it out.

Julie was extremely interested in viewing the behemoth, so she unbuttoned Skip's jeans. Then she thought better of it. She didn't want Kirk to see that while he was still only sporting a semi. That could make the blood flow reverse. Instead, she'd give Kirk the majority of her attention until he was at full mast.

She unbuttoned, unzipped, and tugged Kirk's pants down to his knees. Then she pulled down his boxer shorts and took him into her mouth. When she glanced up at him, he had his head back and she assumed his eyes were closed. She wasn't sure if Skip was watching this. She hoped he was.

Kirk might have been nervous and uncomfortable, but there was no erectile dysfunction going on. His penis grew and grew in her mouth until it had become the friendly fellow she'd met a couple of days ago. She pulled her mouth away, gave it a kiss on the tip, and then spun around toward Skip.

He'd already tugged his own pants down to his knees. His white briefs were straining. Julie didn't want them to get stretched out and require Skip to purchase a new pair, so she pulled them down. His penis did not make a boi-yoi-yoing sound when it popped free, but it did wobble up and down like a diving board.

"Size doesn't matter" was a reasonable slogan, she supposed, but she was happier to see an enormous cock before her. Again, she had absolutely no complaints about Kirk's equipment, none whatsoever, it was amazing, top-notch, five stars out of five. That said...goddamn.

It was not so large that she couldn't get her lips around it, but she most definitely would not be deep-throating Skip. She wouldn't survive the experience and she didn't want Skip and Kirk to call in a fixer.

She gave him a few generous mouth strokes, then kept her hand on Skip while switching her mouth over to Kirk. After Kirk got a few superb sucks, she switched back to Skip. And then back to Kirk. Though she didn't keep a tally of the number of times her head moved back and forth before switching partners, she was confident that all involved would consider it a fair and just process.

She kept this up for quite a while. Neither guy seemed to be in any hurry for the activity to end, and neither seemed ready to pop early. This might be her only opportunity to give alternating blowjobs like this, so she didn't want to reflect back upon the experience and think, "Gosh, how I wish I'd sucked their cocks a while longer!"

Julie really wanted both of them in her mouth at once. They might go for that in the heat of the moment, or they might object to their penises rubbing against each other, which was bound to happen if they shared real estate in her mouth. She thought she could probably separate their penises with her tongue but it wasn't something she could guarantee. Their wieners might touch. There was no way around it.

Better to save that part of the fantasy for another time.

She filled each of her hands with an erection and looked up at the men. "Time to move to the bed," she informed them.

They did not object.

19

Julie was on her hands and knees, with Skip in her mouth while Kirk thrust into her from behind. She found it quite pleasant. It was definitely not the best oral sex she'd ever performed; Julie found it difficult to concentrate with Kirk pounding away at her in a frenzy, and the motion of her body wasn't quite matching up with the smooth motions that made for a quality blowjob. Plus she kept having to stop to gasp for breath. Skip didn't seem to mind.

Kirk was not fucking like a man who was unhappy to be here. If anything, he was even more passionate than he'd been when it was just the two of them. She wasn't sure he was even aware of how loud he was moaning.

* * *

Oh, shit, am I moaning too loud? thought Kirk. He believed that men should have a lower volume level than women in these situations. But he was completely losing himself in the experience.

His arc during the threesome thus far had been:

1. I really don't want to do this. I will, to make sure Julie doesn't leave my apartment, but I'm not going to enjoy it very much if at all.

2. Okay, this isn't so bad. The kissing is as great as I remember from a couple of days ago. I guess I'm not as possessive as I would've thought since it doesn't bother me to see her kissing Skip.

3. This is actually pretty cool. Look at how she's reacting when we each take a nipple. I'm loving the way she's loving this. I'm not saying I'd necessarily rush out to repeat it, but, yeah, this is fun.

4. Goddamn this is hot. Look at what's happening right here in front of me! Oh my freaking God. This is awesome. Working together, we're going to bring her to heights of ecstasy she's never imagined. Teamwork!

5. Oh, yeah. Yes, yes, yes. [Unintelligible.] Sooooo good. So so so good. Best day ever. Never wanna stop. Oh, shit, better stop or I'm gonna come.

"We should trade," said Kirk, proud of his generous spirit.

He pulled out. For a moment he thought he was too late, that the spew was forthcoming with or without his blessing, but he kept himself under control. He removed the empty condom and tossed it onto the floor.

Skip lay on his back and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. He had a bit of trouble tearing the wrapper open, and Kirk almost offered to help him, but he didn't want things to get weird. Skip tore the wrapper open on the third try and unrolled the condom over his penis. Julie, who was clearly not shy, was already hovering over him before he even unrolled it to the bottom. This spoke to both Julie's level of enthusiasm and the long distance Skip's condom needed to unroll.

Kirk didn't mind that Skip had a bigger dick. He would've expected that to be a point of concern, but it really didn't bother him at all. It wasn't as if Skip had a King Kong schlong and Kirk had a cute wee little giggle-worthy micro-phallus. Both dicks were impressive. Skip's was simply a bit larger. No big deal.

Julie slid down Skip's shaft while looking directly at Kirk. She bounced a few times, then beckoned for Kirk to get closer. He crawled over and sat next to her. She twisted around and lowered her head to his lap, but changed her mind and sat up.

"That's not comfortable," she said. "Stand up."

Kirk stood up on the bed. Now Julie only had to swivel her body a bit to have Kirk's groin in a convenient location. She took him into her mouth while continuing to ride Skip.

If Skip were to look up, he'd get a very clear, very close view of Kirk's testicles. Kirk supposed it was up to him if that visual image was something he needed in his life. Skip's full attention was on Julie's breasts, but it seemed less like he was trying to avoid glancing at Kirk's balls and more like he was extremely pleased to have her breasts in his face.

* * *

Skip glanced up and saw Kirk's balls right there.

Oh well. It was bound to happen.

Though he was a large and moderately attractive man, Skip didn't have a lot of sex due to ongoing issues with his social skills. If he approached a woman in a bar, the conversation would start off well, and then he'd spoil it by sharing the story of how he thought (mistakenly) that he got his girlfriend in college pregnant and vowed never to have sex again. It wasn't a particularly amusing anecdote, and it certainly didn't get the ladies in the mood (even with his "oh, but I got over it" assurance at the end). He knew deep in his heart that he should retire this from his rotation of anecdotes, but for some reason he found himself continually starting the story instead of complimenting a woman's eyes.

So when Julie made the invite/demand, there was no way Skip was going to pass up this opportunity. It was less awkward than he would've expected considering that there were two naked dudes in the same bed and he'd tried to kill Kirk earlier.

He hoped Kirk didn't mind that he had a bigger dick.

He glanced away from Kirk's balls and returned his attention to Julie's breasts.

She was not gentle as she rode him. Pretty much from the very beginning she'd dispelled any illusion that this might be a tender, romantic threeway. No "making love" in this bedroom. Skip supposed that the fact that she was cheating on her murderous husband might have had something to do with the lack of amour.

After six minutes and thirty seconds (Skip had a weird ability to keep track of time in his head even when distracted by a naked woman riding him, a skill he'd never been able to utilize for profit) he realized that if she kept this up for another thirty seconds it was all over for him. He tapped Kirk on the knee.

"What was that for?" Kirk asked.

"I'm tagging out."

"Oh."

After condoms were redistributed, Kirk mounted Julie and had sex with her in missionary position, which didn't really leave anywhere for Skip to go where he wouldn't be intrusive. So he simply watched for a while. When they switched again, Skip got his turn at doggy-style. This was his favorite position because it allowed him to basically just stare at a woman's ass in a socially acceptable manner. In fact, because Kirk was on the other side of her receiving a blowjob, it was polite to focus all of his attention on her ass. It was the proper way to behave. It was kind and considerate.

* * *

Julie hoped Skip was enjoying his view of her ass. She put a lot of work into making it an ass worth seeing.

That said, she was starting to get tired. Marathon sex sessions weren't really part of her lifestyle and though she tried to breathe through her nose as much as possible it was challenging to keep her oxygen intake at the proper level. She needed a break.

Julie pulled her mouth away from Kirk's penis. "You guys ready to finish up this round?" she asked.

She kind of wanted both of them to come on her. It seemed like a slutty porn star way for things to end, and though she didn't see herself as the slutty porn star type, she wanted to give it a try just this one time.

"Works for me," said Skip. Kirk just grunted.

"I want you to..."

Julie trailed off, unable to bring herself to say what she wanted out loud. Which was crazy. She hadn't been shy about expressing anything else she wanted today. Skip was still fucking her from behind and Kirk's hard-on was pressed against the side of her face, so why was she suddenly demure about their orgasm location?

She moved her hips forward, pulling away from Skip, and then rolled onto her back, hoping they'd get the idea.

They both looked confused.

Julie patted her belly.

They got it. Skip removed his condom and tossed it over the side of the bed, earning a mild glare from Kirk, and then they scooted into the proper position and began to stroke their (own) cocks.

"Not in my face," said Julie.

"Gotcha," said Skip.

"Or my hair. Nowhere above the neck."

"Heard," said Kirk.

"And not directly on my vagina. I'm on the pill but I don't want to take a stupid risk."

"Understood," said Skip.

"Actually, not on my legs where it could trickle down to my vagina." She held one hand up above her breasts and one at her waist. "Keep it between these goalposts."

"Will do," said Kirk.

"Okay. No more rules. Finish anytime now."

It didn't take long. Skip came first, and from the volume of ejaculate, he'd been saving up for a few years. Julie was surprised that one scrotum could hold that much. He got it all over her stomach, and before he'd completely finished, Kirk came as well, aiming for her breasts.

Finally both men were spent.

"Who's going to be a gentleman and get me a towel?" she asked.

Kirk got up off the bed and walked into the bathroom. He emerged with a fluffy blue towel—only the finest to wipe off semen, apparently—and began to clean her up.

"I'm going to take a shower, so you don't have to get every drop," she said.

After Kirk was done, she gave him a kiss, then gave Skip a kiss, then hopped out of bed. "Back in a few."

* * *

Kirk and Skip watched her go.

"Well," said Kirk.

"Yep," said Skip.

They were silent for a moment.

Kirk used the towel to wipe off his penis. Then he sat there, wondering if offering the towel to Skip was polite or creepy. He decided that he didn't want Skip to drip on his sheets, even if they'd be changed as soon as everybody left, so he handed the towel over.

"Thanks," said Skip, wiping himself off. He handed the towel back to Kirk. Kirk thanked him.

More silence, except for the sound of the shower.

"She's very nice," said Skip.

"Yes," said Kirk. "She is."

"And she's...what's the word?"

Kirk didn't respond.

"I can't think of the word," said Skip.

"I don't know what word you're trying to think of."

"It's right on the tip of my tongue."

"That doesn't help me."

"Oh well."

They listened to the shower for a while. Kirk noticed that Skip's erection was still very much intact.

"What are your hobbies?" asked Skip.

"What do you mean?"

"You know. Hobbies."

Kirk shrugged. "Movies, I guess."

"Making them?"

"Watching."

"What kind?"

"All kinds."

"Any favorite genre?"

"Action."

"Good choice, good choice," said Skip, nodding his approval.

"Thanks."

Skip's boner still hadn't gone anywhere.

"This was fun," said Skip.

"Yeah."

"Is fun. We're not done yet."

"Nope."

"Didn't think this was how I'd be spending my afternoon."

"Nope."

"What about you?"

"What about me what?"

"Did you think this was how you'd be spending your afternoon?"

"You know it wasn't," said Kirk.

Skip nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Just making conversation."

"No problem."

"She's very lively."

"Yes."

"That's not the word I was trying to think of before."

"Okay."

"It fits, though."

"Yes, it does."

"She may be the liveliest woman I've ever met," said Skip.

"I won't argue that."

"You should've seen her expression when you first thrust into her."

"Let's not talk about it," said Kirk.

"All right, all right. Your place, your rules."

"Thanks."

Skip's penis was finally starting to soften. He gave it a couple of tugs, seemingly unaware of what he was doing.

"Is it going okay for you so far?" asked Skip. "Any special requests? Anything I'm doing that you'd rather I not do?"

"Nope."

"Nope it's not going okay? Nope you don't have any special requests? Nope I'm not doing anything you'd rather I not do?"

"The last one."

"But it's going okay?"

"Yep."

"And you don't have any special requests?"

"Nope."

"Are you going to ask if I have any?"

"Nope."

"Fair enough," said Skip.

"I guess if I had a special request, it would be for us not to talk so much while she's gone."

"I can respect that. I just figured that since we're both sitting naked on the bed and just finished having sex with the same lady, it might be more comfortable to make small talk than to sit here in silence."

They sat there in silence.

"Maybe you're right," said Kirk.

"I didn't hog the vagina too much, did I?"

"You said small talk."

"Oh, sorry. You like sports?"

"Some of them."

"Which ones?"

"Baseball. Hockey."

"Good choices. Those are popular ones."

"You?"

"Not really," said Skip.

"None?"

"Bowling."

"Watching?"

"No, doing. Watching it is boring as shit."

"Which sports do you watch?"

"Does poker count as a sport?"

"No."

"Can we count it as one for the sake of this conversation?"

"If we must."

"Poker, then."

"Okay."

"Sorry I tried to kill you."

"It's all right," said Kirk.

Skip shook his head. "No, it isn't. I shouldn't be trying to kill people."

"You really shouldn't."

"And I see now that you're a cool guy who doesn't deserve to die. But even if you weren't a cool guy, I shouldn't have tried to kill you. It won't happen again."

"Well, I'm glad about that."

The water turned off in the shower.

"Sounds like she's done," said Skip.

"I agree."

"Think she wanted us to join her in there?"

"She would have said something."

"Yeah, you're right. That's something she would do."

"I think she needed some downtime."

Skip nodded. "Downtime is important. You've gotta catch your breath."

"Oh, I did think of something."

"Something?"

"Something you shouldn't do."

"Let's hear it."

"Don't touch my knee when you want to swap places."

"Ah, yeah," said Skip. "Right after I did that I questioned if it was the right thing to have done. Got caught up in the moment. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. It wasn't any big deal. I would've said something at the moment if it was. I'm just saying that since we're going to probably do it again in a few minutes, next time use your words instead of your hand."

"I will. I definitely will. Communication is the key."

Julie walked into the bedroom, naked and drying her hair with a towel. "Are you two still on the bed?"

"Uh, yeah," said Skip.

"I figured one of you would go get a drink or something. I didn't think you'd stay naked on the bed together. That must have been awkward."

"We were fine," said Kirk.

20

I could get used to this, thought Julie, as she lay with Skip's head between her legs. Kirk was tending to her breasts and doing a bang-up job of it.

She wished this could be a permanent arrangement. Two hot men pleasuring her on a regular basis. She'd ring a tiny bell and they'd report for duty.

Tragically, she did not think Ralph would let two hot muscular men move into their home for the purpose of giving her orgasms on request. In fact, she doubted there'd be a repeat of this afternoon at all. Being here right now was dangerous enough; she simply couldn't risk it on an ongoing basis.

Not while Ralph was around, anyway.

She ran her fingers through Kirk's hair as he sucked on her nipple. It hadn't been very difficult to manipulate him into sharing her with Skip. Perhaps she could manipulate him into something else...?

She wondered if Skip, lapping away, noticed that she suddenly got wetter?

It bothered her a bit that thinking about having her husband murdered made her even hornier, but it didn't bother her enough to stop thinking about it.

* * *

As Kirk thrust into her, he wondered if there was going to be a downside. He had, after all, been reluctant to meet up with Julie again even before he knew that Ralph meant to have him killed.

He'd worry about it after he came.

* * *

As Skip thrust into her, he wondered how he was going to explain to Ralph that he hadn't killed anybody. He supposed it wasn't too late to murder Kirk, but he'd had second thoughts even before they had so much fun together. He was the third wheel in this threesome. You didn't get invited to be the third wheel and then kill one of the other wheels.

He'd worry about it after he came.

* * *

Everybody lay on the bed, completely exhausted.

Julie noticed that Kirk and Skip both looked kind of worried. She wasn't sure why and decided not to ask.

She also decided not to ask them to team up to kill Ralph. That wasn't appropriate subject matter for right now, and she was only about thirty percent sure she wanted it to happen anyway. She'd think about it some more. If she did ask, she'd bring up the subject while she was giving dual handjobs.

"I should get going," she said, removing Kirk's hand from her left breast and Skip's hand from her right. "I think it goes without saying that I found this to be very rewarding."

"I was dubious at first," Kirk admitted, "but, yeah, I had a great time. Thank you for threatening to walk out if I didn't go through with it."

Julie gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Oh, I was bluffing." She climbed out of bed and searched for her clothes. The men also got out of bed and everybody began to get dressed. "Make sure you pick up the right underwear."

Everybody finished dressing in silence.

"We should discuss what happened," said Julie. "By which I mean we should swear to never discuss what happened."

"I'll swear to that," said Kirk.

"Me too," said Skip.

"I don't mean that from a shameful perspective," Julie clarified. "There are certain people who would not be happy to hear about what happened. I'm sure you saw my wedding ring," she said to Skip.

"Yes, I did," said Skip. "I was admiring it while you were stroking me. How many karats in that thing?"

Julie ignored the question. "So we all agree to the vow of silence?"

They all agreed. Skip didn't seem like the kind of guy to rush out to his friends and say, "Another dude and I just banged this chick! Woo-hoo-hoo!" so she was confident that her secret would be safe.

Now she'd just have to decide if she wanted to use the men again for sex, murder, or both.

* * *

"We need to talk," said Kirk, after Julie left the apartment.

"We pinky swore that we wouldn't," said Skip.

"Shut up. Ralph sent you over here to kill me. I'm not dead. I don't plan to be dead later today. So what are you going to tell him?"

"That you fought me off, and that I saw true rage in your eyes, and that it frightened me to my core?"

"No. That's stupid."

"Well, what do you want me to say? You're the one he's trying to kill!"

"I don't know!" said Kirk. "It's been a distracting afternoon! I haven't had a chance to think about it! But we've got to come up with something or we're both dead!"

Skip frowned. "You think he'll try to have me killed because I didn't kill you?"

"He might."

"Shit."

"Somebody who's willing to hire an assassin can't be trusted."

"You're right, you're right. Are you still not okay with the idea of changing your identity and fleeing the country?"

"I can't afford that."

"Have you done any comparison shopping?"

"It's not an option. We've just got to figure out a way to get him off my back."

Skip furrowed his brow in deep concentration. "What if...ummm...what if...ummm...what if...ummm...ummmm...ummmmmmm...."

"Would you be willing to kill him?" Kirk asked.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Uh-uh. No way. I wussed out on murdering you—I'm not just going to turn around and murder some other guy. You don't really want him to die, do you?"

Kirk thought about it. He could certainly understand why Ralph had homicidal feelings toward him, and bore the man no ill will from that perspective. "It's less that I want him dead than that I don't want myself dead. And if he hired you, he'll hire somebody else, and that person might kill me before we fuck his wife together."

"What if I explain to him that he misjudged you? I can say I saw kindness in your eyes."

"He doesn't give a shit about what's in my eyes."

"Maybe he'd compromise. Maybe if I broke all of your fingers he'd be satisfied. Maybe if I broke your dick."

"I'm not going to let you break my fingers and dick."

"I wouldn't expect you to," said Skip. "But if you were willing to wrap bandages around them, play-act for a while, we could let him think they were broken."

Kirk sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What's wrong with that idea?" asked Skip.

"I apologize. I assumed it would be a stupid plan so my reaction came before I processed what you said. That might work! It hurts to get ten fingers and your dick broken! Hurts a lot worse than getting killed!"

"Depends how you get killed, but yeah."

"You can tell Ralph that I begged for mercy, swore that I'd never touch another man's wife for as long as I lived..."

Skip grinned. "And I can say that I told you, 'You're damn right you won't touch another man's wife for as long as you live, because you're about to die!'"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It doesn't sound like something you'd say."

"Sure it does."

"You wouldn't think of that line on the spot."

"I did just think of it on the spot. I thought of it as soon as you said your part."

"All right, fine," said Kirk. "You can tell him you said that."

"I don't like that you think I'm not witty."

"I apologize. We're getting off-topic."

"So you begged for your life. I was all mean and cold-blooded and stuff. And you were basically on the floor sobbing, pleading for mercy, no dignity whatsoever. I mean, just completely humiliating yourself. Exposing yourself as the coward you'd always been. It was painful to watch. And I was so filled with disgust over your pathetic display that I decided it wasn't worth the effort to kill you."

Kirk shook his head. "No."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Everything."

"Be more specific."

"I don't want him to think I was rolling around on the floor sobbing."

"I never said you were rolling around."

"We need to come up with something better."

"We're completely making up a story," said Skip. "Why do you care how you're being portrayed?"

"I just do, okay? What if he tells friends at a bar?"

"You're worried about anonymous friends at a bar hearing a fictitious story about you?"

"Hearing that I acted like a little bitch might not make him drop the issue," said Kirk. "He might think I need to be put out of my misery. What if you tell him that you decided death was too good for me? That having my dick broken was a fate worse than death?"

"That could work."

"You were about to break my neck, and it suddenly occurred to you that I'd suffer far more if you broke my fingers and my dick. I bet he'd agree with that. I bet he'd wish he thought of it himself."

Skip nodded. "It's perfect. This can't fail."

"Awesome."

"One question, though."

"What?"

"How do you break a dick?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we call it a boner, but there's no actual bone. It's blood. You can't break blood."

"If I had a boner, and you grabbed it with both hands and bent it like you were snapping a pretzel stick in half, you'd do some serious damage. It would be horrific. Way worse than death."

"Makes sense," said Skip. "But you'd have to have a boner for it to work. Otherwise I'm just playing with your floppy dick. How would you get a boner if an assassin was in your apartment threatening to break your dick?"

"Fear boner?" Kirk asked.

"Are those real?"

"I don't have experience with them, but they've got to be real for somebody. Ralph would have no way of knowing. He's not going to question the scientific merit of the boner."

"Let's stop saying boner."

"Why? Julie's not here."

"It's childish."

"You started it. No, I guess I started it. I'm used to being the one who goes off on tangents, but since your life is on the line here, I'm kind of surprised by these detours," said Skip.

"Sorry," said Kirk. "I just had an unexpected threeway and now we're discussing my possible murder. I'm a little scatterbrained right now."

"Me too. Do you think she enjoyed herself as much as we did? She really seemed to like it. I mean, some of those noises she was making seemed like they'd be hard to fake."

"Here's the situation. You came over and threatened to kill me. You noticed that I got a fear erection. You then—"

"Maybe it wasn't fear. Maybe you got turned on by the threat of death. Some crazy fetishes out there. Autoerotic asphyxiation is a real thing."

"Let's stick to fear."

"All right."

"You saw the way my pants were poking out, and realized that you could give me a fate worse than death. You forced me to take off my pants, then you mercilessly broke my dick. Then you broke all ten of my fingers."

"Would I even need to break your fingers? Wouldn't your dick be enough?"

Kirk thought about that. "My dick might be enough, but if it's not, it would be silly to have stopped there. I mean, you're not actually breaking any bones, so I might as well wrap up my hands."

"What if he wants proof? What if he demands to see your gnarly fingers for himself?"

"I'll hide a nail file under the bandages and stab him in the face."

"I can't argue with that answer."

"So is that our plan?" Kirk asked.

Skip nodded. "That's our plan."

21

Ralph called Skip yet again. Still no answer. This was the fourteenth or fifteenth time he'd tried to call in the past hour, which would look suspicious if his phone records were subpoenaed, but he was freaking out!

What had he done? What kind of monster had he become that he'd try to have a man killed? What would his grandmother think, gazing down at him from heaven? This wasn't who she'd raised.

Yes, Kirk had fucked Julie. He deserved to be punished for that. But he didn't deserve to be murdered. Nobody had appointed Ralph the moral arbiter of who should live and who should die. He'd overstepped his bounds. He'd let his jealousy and rage over the mental image of Kirk sliding his penis deep into Julie's vagina and giving her multiple thrashing screaming orgasms get the best of him. He needed to call this off...but Skip wouldn't answer his goddamn phone!

He could leave work and rush over to Kirk's apartment, but he didn't want to be seen there in case it was too late. There might be blood everywhere. If the landlord entered the apartment to investigate the unpleasant smell and found the gruesome remains of Kirk scattered all over his living room, they'd definitely review the surveillance camera video.

His stomach clenched up and he hurried out of his office. He speed-walked down the hallway and into the restroom, where he just barely made it to the nearest stall before stress-vomiting into the toilet. He unspooled some toilet paper, wiped off his mouth, and flushed. God, he felt sick. How had he gotten himself into this mess?

Ralph noticed that even though he'd just regurgitated, the restroom smelled much better than usual.

"Are you okay in there?" a female voice asked from the next stall.

Ralph froze. Raw terror filled his body like ice crystalizing in his arteries. His heart, already taxed to its limit, skipped a beat. Cold sweat ran down his forehead and his back. He opened his mouth to gasp, but no gasp was forthcoming.

"Hello?" the woman repeated.

Ralph had a low, masculine voice, one that could not credibly go up an octave and mimic the voice of a female. There was no possible way he could say, "Everything's fine, thanks!" and have her not realize there was a dude two feet away from her while she sat on the toilet. Even if he just tried to make a noise, a muffled "Uh-huh," she would know his true gender.

He had to flee.

He fumbled with the lock for a moment because his hands were shaking so badly. He got it open, rushed out of the stall, and out of the restroom. Mr. Summerfeld, who was not Ralph's boss, but rather his boss' boss, was right there, headed for the men's room.

"Oh, hello, Ralph," said Mr. Summerfeld, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Hello, sir."

"You do realize that you were in the ladies' room, right?"

"Yes. Yes, I do, sir." Ralph cleared his throat. "Diane forgot her cell phone in there and wanted me to get it before somebody stole it. She couldn't get it herself because she was on a call. I mean a call with her work phone, obviously."

"She asked you to get it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why wouldn't she ask a lady?"

"I was the only one there. She was very worried about it, and I figured it couldn't hurt anything for me to duck in quickly and grab it."

"You don't have a phone in your hand."

"You're right," said Ralph. "You're right, sir, I don't. It wasn't there. I was too late. Hopefully somebody turned in it."

"Is anybody in the restroom?"

"No, sir. I called out to make sure nobody was in there."

The ladies' restroom door swung open and a woman walked out.

"I'm not sure why she didn't answer me," said Ralph. "She must have been very focused on what she was doing."

"Why are you sweating so much?"

"Touch of food poisoning, I think. They tell you not to eat gas station hot dogs, and now I know why."

Mr. Summerfeld sighed. "Ralph, when I was your age, I also used to sneak into women's restrooms sometimes."

"I'm forty."

"I'd sneak in there, giggling like a schoolgirl. But do you know what I discovered?"

"That it was wrong?"

"Before that."

"No, sir."

"I discovered that the stalls all had doors on them. And at forty years of age, I certainly wasn't going to be pulling myself up to peek over them or crawling around on the floor to look under them. So I couldn't see anything anyway. All I could do is hear. What's the point of that?"

Ralph said nothing.

"If you're a pervert, that's fine, no shame in it, but you can't be a pervert on company time. If this is your thing, why not go home and watch relevant videos on the Internet? They're widely available and you can watch clips for free to make sure it's what you really want. It's safe and legal, and I won't have to terminate you or have you arrested. Do you understand?"

"I needed to puke and it was an emergency and I accidentally ran into the wrong restroom and I lied because I was flustered and I'm sorry."

"I see. Well, I immediately knew you were lying, and, similarly, I was lying about sneaking into the women's restroom when I was your age. I find the idea of women going to the bathroom disgusting. I'm not saying they shouldn't do it, obviously, but I don't like to think about it. The next time you have a desperate need to vomit, please take an extra half-second to verify that you're running into the proper restroom."

"I will, sir."

"I'm not going to fire you, but there must be consequences. Your name is Ralph. 'Ralph' is a synonym for 'vomit.' Every time I call you by your name, I'll be thinking about this encounter, and so will you. Enjoy the rest of your day." Mr. Summerfeld gave him a polite nod and walked into the men's room.

Ralph returned to his office, not feeling much better.

Was Kirk still alive?

Ralph called Skip again. No answer.

What if he was too busy sawing off Kirk's head to answer his phone?

Ralph wanted to let out a primal wail, but obviously he couldn't do that here. He choked back some bile, squeezed the crap out of his stress toy for a couple of minutes, and then called Skip again.

"Yo," said Skip.

"Skip! Thank God! We need to talk!"

"That's what I figured when I saw sixteen missed calls from you. I had my phone off. Do you want an update?"

"No. Not over the phone." Ralph wasn't worried that the call was being recorded, but he didn't want to hear news that would make him throw up again. "Let's get a burrito."

22

"Just a taco?" Ralph asked.

"Yeah, I don't have much of an appetite right now," said Skip. "Nothing for you?"

"I don't have much of an appetite either." Ralph glanced around the restaurant to make sure nobody was listening to them. "Did you kill him?"

Skip let out a long sigh, like a man who'd stared into the abyss and knew he would never completely recover his sanity. Ralph closed his eyes. Damn. Damn it all to hell.

"No," Skip finally said.

Ralph opened his eyes. "Really?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, that's great! That's really great! Actually, I think I am going to get something to eat. Don't go anywhere."

A few minutes later, Ralph sat back down at the table with a beef burrito with extra onions and jalapenos. "So what happened? He wasn't home?"

"Oh, he was home."

"And...?"

"And I knocked on the door."

"All right."

"And he answered."

"All right."

"And he said, 'I didn't order a pizza.'"

"All right."

"And I said, 'I've got an order slip that says you did.' And he said, 'You must have the wrong apartment,' and I said, 'No, as a professional pizza delivery man, I double-checked the apartment number before I knocked.' And he said, 'Well, I don't know what to tell you; I didn't order a pizza.' This went on for a while."

"It's okay to summarize," said Ralph.

"Finally, I told him he could keep the pizza, and he said he didn't want it, and I said 'Who the hell turns down free pizza?' and he told me that he loved pizza in general but wasn't going to eat this particular pizza because it belonged to somebody else. I said that it was just going to get thrown away, and he said that it wasn't his problem. He was honestly kind of belligerent about the whole thing, which made me want to kill him even more."

"Seriously, it's fine if you leave out some details. I'll ask questions if I think you missed something important."

"Finally I grabbed him by the throat and shoved my way into his apartment. I slammed him against the wall—not hard enough to disturb the neighbors; it was kind of a gentle slam—and told him that I was here to kill him."

"Did you tell him I sent you?"

"Was I supposed to?" Skip asked.

"I don't remember what we decided. He would've figured out that it was me, and he was going to be dead anyway, so it doesn't matter. I was just curious."

"I can leave out fewer details if you want."

"No, no, tell the story."

"I was ready to break his neck," said Skip. "It wouldn't have taken much. One really good twist and that would've been the end of him. But for some reason I looked down. I don't know why. Maybe it was the Supreme Being guiding my head. Regardless of why I did it, I did, and I saw that he had a tent in his pants."

"A tent?"

"You know, when your dick gets hard and it pushes—"

"I knew what you meant. I'm not sure why I said anything."

"Anyway, yes, our buddy Kirk had a great big ol' boner going on while I was trying to break his neck."

"So you're saying that he was into it?"

"No, I was thinking 'fear boner.'"

"Those exist?"

"Apparently."

"Then what happened?"

"An idea occurred to me. What's the worst possible thing that could happen to somebody?"

"Death."

"No," said Skip. "Now, I just finished telling you that Kirk's dick was hard. From there, my mind went to the worst possible thing that could happen to somebody. Follow the logic."

Ralph's jaw dropped. He leaned forward and spoke across the table in a whisper. "Are you...are you...are you saying that you tore his dick off?"

"What? No! That would be horrific!"

"So what did you do?"

"I broke it. Snapped it like a cucumber." Skip mimed the action with both hands. "I mean, it didn't break in half like a cucumber. The skin stayed together."

"He didn't resist?"

"Hell yeah, he resisted. He resisted like crazy."

"How do you get both of your hands on a man's dick if he's resisting like crazy?"

"You punch him in the throat first. When somebody is lying on the floor clutching their neck with both hands and making gargling noises, that's the one time they aren't defending their crotch. I yanked his pants off and gave him a fate worse than death. He won't be entering your wife anytime soon, that I can promise you."

"Wow." Ralph fell back in his chair. "Wow, that's...I don't even know what to say about that." He picked up his burrito and took a big bite. "If I'd thought of it, that's what I'd have had you do in the first place. It seems like a fair punishment."

"Oh, I didn't stop there. Then I broke all ten of his fingers. Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap. That was ten, right?"

Ralph set down his burrito. He stared silently at the table for a while.

"Something wrong?" Skip asked.

"After you broke his dick, you broke all ten of his fingers?"

"Yep. I almost left him with working thumbs, then I thought, nah, screw that guy."

"That's nightmarish."

"I wasn't there to be snuggly."

"Excuse me for a moment." Ralph left the table. He hurried to the proper restroom, vomited abundantly, then returned to the table. "Sorry about that."

"No problem."

"Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" asked Skip.

"For there not being a problem. Sorry, I'm not thinking straight right now."

"Are you okay? You seem troubled."

Ralph wiped the perspiration from his forehead with his napkin. "I'm fine."

"You've got guacamole on your forehead."

Ralph took a fresh napkin and wiped his forehead again. "Did I get it?"

"Nah, but it doesn't matter. Why are you so twitchy?"

"I wanted the man dead. Then I had second thoughts and sat at work having panic attack after panic attack. When you said you didn't kill him, I was so relieved I almost wept."

"I'm glad you didn't weep," said Skip.

"When you said you broke his dick, I cringed but I felt like justice had been served. I was happy. But breaking all of his fingers on top of that is just...it's just ghastly."

"Life is ghastly, Ralph."

"How did you do this without anybody calling the police? Didn't he shriek?"

"Oh, yeah, he shrieked like a mofo. But I had a pillow over his face. Almost smothered him to death, actually, which would've been ironic, huh?"

"Yeah."

"So to summarize, Kirk won't be banging any ladies for a very long time, and he can't even jerk off. I think this counts as a happy ending for everybody except him."

"He deserved it, right? You don't make another man's wife come and not be prepared to suffer the consequences, right?"

"That's right."

Ralph nodded. "So that ends it. As far as I'm concerned, he and I are even. Everything has been resolved to my satisfaction, and I never need to discuss it again. Julie and I will go on with our lives as if nothing ever happened." He nodded again. "I feel better now. I feel good, in fact. Thank you, Skip. You've more than earned this."

Ralph took out an envelope and slid it across the table. Skip picked it up and set it on his lap. "Kirk can't even slide an envelope across a table with his broken fingers. Sucks to be him, huh?"

"It sure does. It sure does."

"Did you want to see the proof?"

"Huh?"

"Proof. Did you want to see it?"

"I didn't even think about that. Nah, I'm good. I don't want to see any of that."

Skip took out his phone. "They're not gory pictures. See?" He held up his phone, which had a picture of Kirk looking miserable, holding up his hands with thick gauze around each finger. Skip swiped to the next picture, which was Kirk with gauze around his crotch, looking even more miserable.

"Ow," said Ralph.

Skip put his phone away. "Just figured you should see these, since I went to the trouble of taking them."

"I appreciate it. But I believed you."

"Cool. So are we done here?"

"I'm going to finish my burrito, but yes."

"I might go ahead and finish my taco, too, if that's all right."

"Of course."

They munched away at their meals for a bit.

"Did you help him with the gauze?" Ralph asked.

"Yeah. No way could he have done it himself with all of those snapped fingers."

"So you set the broken bones?"

"No, we just covered them up. I assume he got somebody to drive him to the hospital to have it taken care of by a doctor. I certainly wasn't going to drive him anywhere, the wife-banging piece of crap."

"How come you took the pictures after you bandaged him up?"

"What?"

"It just seems odd that you'd take the evidence pictures after that instead of before."

"Well, it was really nasty looking, and you just said yourself you didn't want to see that kind of thing. I didn't want you to have to look at his fingers all twisted and swollen and backwards and stuff. Also, I didn't think about it until after I'd bandaged him up, and I didn't want to go through the trouble of removing the bandages and then putting them back on again."

"But which was it?" Ralph asked.

"What?"

"Were you sparing me the sight of a gruesome picture, or did you not think to take it until after his hands and dick were covered? It's one or the other."

"I don't believe that's necessarily true," said Skip.

"It's two different thought processes."

"I didn't think to take it until after he was wrapped up, and then I thought, good, Ralph wouldn't want to see that carnage anyway."

"You said you didn't want to go through the trouble of removing the bandages and then putting them back on again."

"I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did. That's exactly what you said."

"Let's not fight. How's your burrito?"

"Are those fake pictures, Skip?"

"No. You can take them right to the FBI if you want. There's no digital manipulation of any kind. I wouldn't even know how to do that. When people post Photoshopped stuff online, to me it's like magic. These pictures are one hundred percent real."

"But are his fingers and dick actually broken under the wrapping?"

"Am I being detained?"

"Answer the question."

"Yes. They are. They're wrapped."

"I didn't ask if they were wrapped. I asked if they were broken."

"Yes."

"If I went over there right now, and I held Kirk at gunpoint and forced him to show me his dick, what would I see?"

"I'd ask to look at his fingers first, but that's just me."

"Are you lying to me?" Ralph demanded.

"No."

"Don't look down at the table when you say it. Are you lying to me?"

"No."

"Don't look over my shoulder. Look me in the eye. Are you lying to me?"

"Yes, sir."

Ralph slammed his fist against the table. "Goddamn it!"

"I meant to kill him! I really did! I went over there and was strangling him, but then your wife showed up. And she basically forced us both to have sex with her at the same time. We fucked her hard but we were respectful. It was totally consensual. We went at it for however long it took you to call me sixteen times, and I wrapped up his fingers and dick so you'd think I'd broken them, and I took pictures. That's all that happened, I swear."

Ralph tried to speak, but his mouth had gone completely dry.

Skip placed the envelope of money back on the table and slid it over to him. "Here. Obviously I don't deserve this."

Ralph took the envelope, folded it in half, and silently placed it back in his pocket.

"Just so you know," said Skip, "I don't think she did anything with us that she doesn't do with you. I mean, yeah, there were two guys, so there were more options, but what I mean is that she didn't let us take her in the butt or anything."

Ralph remained silent.

"Are you mad?" Skip asked.

"Yes."

"What are you going to do?"

"I haven't decided."

"Is it something scary?"

"It might be."

23

"I have a surprise for you," said Draven.

I put my hand over my full red lips to stifle the giggle. "For me? But what have I done to deserve such a thing?"

"Everything you do deserves a reward. Every time you blink I want to shower you with golden jewel-encrusted treasure. Treasure without jagged edges or points, of course. Do you remember what I said when your alluring, sensuous body entered this room but minutes ago?"

I nodded, for I did indeed remember. It had been only minutes ago. "You said not to open the closet door."

"That is exactly what I said. But now you may do so, if you wish."

"And what if I do not wish?"

"Then I will command it."

I sucked in a sharp intake of breath. How I loved it when Draven commanded me! His commands had worked out well for me in the past. Oh, the things he'd commanded me to do!

"Are you commanding it now?" I asked, blushing.

"I am."

I walked over to the closet and opened the door. Then I gasped. One gasp was not enough, so I gasped again. Standing before me stood Tristan, wearing absolutely nothing at all. His muscles rippled in the candlelight as he smiled at me.

"What...what is this all about?" I asked.

Tristan stepped forward. "I think you know."

Draven stepped up behind me. "We both wish to ravish you at once."

My eyes widened into large spheres. "But that would be improper!"

"Improper or not, it's what we want," said Tristan. "We both wish to kiss you. We both wish to undress you. We both wish to make love to you."

"Then I shall let you!" I declared. "I shall let you!"

Julie had never felt so creatively energized. Her fingers hadn't stopped moving on the keyboard since she'd sat down at her desk. She really did need to make the threesome with Kirk and Skip a one-time indiscretion, but she had to admit that it had done wonders for her productivity.

She continued typing. This was not meant to be autobiographical, so the threesome with Draven and Tristan did not follow the same sequence of events as the threesome with Kirk and Skip. She also added a scene where they used their fingers on her, because readers enjoyed reading about that sort of thing, and also a lot of spanking.

I'd wondered why Draven's palms were so calloused, but with each clap against my bare bottom, the answer became more clear. As he thrust into me, over and over, harder and harder, and spanked me, showing no mercy, I was forced to spit Tristan's manhood out of my mouth to speak.

"Fuck me!" I shouted. "Oh, fuck me, Draven! Don't stop fucking me! Stop fucking me at your own peril! Spank me harder while you're fucking me! Oh! Oh! Oh! I'm so impressed by your skills at fucking me! I hope Tristan will be equally talented! Oh! Do fuck me! Do fuck me more!"

Maybe that was a little much. Julie backspaced over the last request to fuck her.

She continued typing, losing track of time. Draven and Tristan had an additional surprise for the innocent young heroine, and she gasped and giggled as they blindfolded her and tied her to the bed.

"What will you do with me now that I'm helpless and at your mercy?" I asked, even though I knew quite well what they intended to do with me.

"Just listen," said Draven.

I listened, but heard nothing unexpected, except perhaps for my heart beating more rapidly than customary.

"What do you hear?" asked Tristan.

"What am I supposed to hear?"

"Shhhhh. Listen."

"I hear only your breathing."

"Whose breathing?"

"Your breathing. And Draven's breathing."

"Is that all?"

I listened carefully. I heard one set of lungs breathing, and a second set of lungs breathing, and...was it possible?

"Are there three of you in the room with me?" I asked, unable to contain the fearful joy in my voice.

"There are indeed," said Quill.

Julie wondered if it was too slutty for her heroine to do three guys at once. She suspected that if Kirk and Skip had said, "Guess what?" she would have politely excused herself from the apartment, but this novel wasn't meant to be realistic. It was fantasy. Though Julie didn't want to go full-on gang-bang, her heroine should totally do three guys at once.

She resumed typing, hoping this energy and creativity would never fade.

24

This is bad, thought Skip as Ralph walked out of the restaurant.

This was super bad. Ralph was in no state of mind to be around other people, especially Kirk or Julie. Skip couldn't quite describe the look in Ralph's eyes, but "homicidally insane" had been his first impression.

What should he do? Skip didn't know Kirk or Julie's phone number. He had no way to warn them that Ralph could be in full psychopath mode. If only Skip hadn't blabbed about both of them having sex with Julie. That had been a mistake.

"What do I do?" he asked himself out loud. He wasn't the kind of guy who typically talked to himself like this, but considering the circumstances he decided he could cut himself some slack.

"About what?" asked an elderly woman at the next table.

"About..." Skip stopped himself before he could give her a high-level summary of his problems. She didn't need to know. "Never mind. I'm going to follow him."

Skip pushed back his chair and stood up. You were supposed to clear your own table here but there wasn't time. He'd clear his table twice the next time. He hurried out of the restaurant and frantically looked around for Ralph.

There was no sign of him. Why hadn't Skip immediately followed the potential maniac, instead of sitting at the table pondering what he should do? The obvious answer was: follow him. The decision making process should've been extremely brief. This kind of foolishness was why nice people like Julie and Kirk sometimes ended up dead.

Which way had he gone? Left? Right? It was one of the two, unless he'd walked straight into the busy street to end his life, but it was definitely a bloodthirsty look that Skip had seen in his eyes and not a suicidal one, so he'd surely gone left or right. If he was headed back to kill Kirk, he would've gone left, unless he used the parking garage to the right, but Skip didn't know if he was more likely to try to kill Julie or Kirk first.

There he was! To the left! Skip ran after him, trying not to collide with anybody on the busy sidewalk, especially not that guy holding the large stack of fragile looking—

Skip did not collide with the guy holding the large stack of fragile looking paper mâché butterflies. He continued to not collide with anybody, darting and weaving and doing a superb job of staying out of everybody's personal space. Finally he caught up to the person who looked exactly like Ralph from the back and slammed his hand on his shoulder. The man angrily turned around.

"What?" asked Ralph, angrily.

"I need to know what you're going to do."

"I haven't decided yet."

"Have you at least decided how bad it's going to be?"

"No."

"Do you at least have a basic gist?" Skip asked.

"No."

"I kind of need to get a ballpark idea of what's going through your mind right now. I can't have you going on a killing spree."

"There are only three people I want to kill."

Skip did a quick mental tally. He wanted to verify that he was among the three, but decided that it was a no-brainer and didn't ask.

"Three would count as a spree," said Skip.

"I don't think so."

"We decided that three counts as an orgy, so I'd think that three would also count as a killing spree." It took a few seconds of Ralph glaring at him for Skip to realize that this wasn't information he should have shared. Sometimes he had to admit that he just wasn't very good at interacting with people.

Ralph turned and walked away. Skip rushed after him.

"I can't let you go."

"It's not your decision," said Ralph.

"I'll call the police."

"I'll tell them you accepted payment to kill somebody."

"They won't believe you."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Because the target and I banged your wife together." Skip felt he could've phrased that in a more compassionate manner. He wondered if he was enraging Ralph even more. Maybe he should just let the guy do whatever he was planning to do and stop trying to fix this.

"So?"

"So...that's weird, right? If I were a cop, and I was investigating an accusation that somebody had taken money to commit a murder, and I found out that he and his intended victim had a threesome instead, I wouldn't believe the accusation. You have to admit that it stretches suspension of disbelief pretty hard."

"What do you want from me?" asked Ralph.

"I want you not to seek vengeance."

"Don't you think I deserve to make things right?"

"You do," Skip admitted. "You totally do. If I were in your position, I'd be hopping mad. My face would be bright red and you'd see a throbbing vein in my forehead and I'd be grinding my teeth so loud you could hear it. Be that as it may, I can't let you kill anybody."

"I never said I was going to kill anybody."

"You said that there were three people you wanted to kill."

"That doesn't mean I was going to kill them."

"I'm confused."

"I never said I was going to act on my impulses," said Ralph. "I said I didn't know what I was going to do."

"Okay, but that leaves the door open to murder."

"I love my wife. I would never hurt her. In a way, this is my fault."

"Now you're talking," said Skip. "What about Kirk?"

"I would hurt Kirk."

"Badly?"

"I might break his dick and all ten of his fingers."

"Right. Okay. Yes, I can see why you went in that direction. Unfortunately, I don't think I can allow that. It was uncomfortable enough for him when we wrapped up his fingers and penis with them not broken."

"Maybe I'll just break his dick, then."

"The thing is, we'd made up the whole part about terror making blood flow to his groin. You'd have to get him sexually aroused to get him hard enough to break his dick, and that would take you into some weird territory that I'm not sure you're ready to handle. And, ultimately, though he's made mistakes in his life, I think we all have made mistakes at one time or another, and I can't let you do that to him."

"Then I'll tie his dick into a knot."

"You can't actually do that. This isn't a cartoon."

"What do you want from me?" asked Ralph.

"I guess I'd like your assurance that you aren't going to hunt him down."

"So I should just let this slide?"

Skip shook his head. "No, no, no, no, no, nobody is saying that you should ignore being a cuckold. But maybe instead of physical violence you could resolve this with a verbal thrashing."

"A verbal thrashing, huh?"

"You can't overestimate the value of a vicious insult. You've got time to prepare. They don't even have to be original. Come up with nine or ten really brutal ones, give him a call, and release the Kraken. Make him feel like an absolute douchebag. He'll never be an infidel again."

"An infidel is not somebody who commits infidelity."

"It's not?"

"No."

"Hmmm," said Skip. "I'm not sure why the people who invented the English language made things so difficult for themselves."

"And what should I do about you?"

"You can insult me, too. In fact, you can use the same insults. Let me have it. Make me squirm. Stomp my self-esteem into the ground. Nothing is off-limits."

"Do you honestly believe that after you and Kirk banged my wife, I'm going to feel better about the whole situation by saying unkind things about you?"

"Well, you'd be saying them right to my face."

"Go fuck yourself, Skip."

"Was that an insult, or was that your reaction to my idea about the insults?"

"The second one."

"I can't let you leave like this."

"Leave like how?"

"Murderous."

"Fine," said Ralph. "I won't go after Kirk."

"Really?"

"Really."

"And you won't go after Julie?"

"I already said I wouldn't."

"And you won't, y'know, inflict harm upon yourself? No cutting?"

"No cutting."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to figure out a way to get him fired from his job."

"Oh." Skip thought about that. "Yeah, that seems reasonable. What are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing. He fucked her twice and you only fucked her once, so I'll let it go."

"I guess you're counting it by visits and not the number of times we actually had sex," said Skip, who knew after a few words that it was not the right thing to say, but who couldn't stop himself from finishing the sentence.

"Right."

"How can I be sure you're telling the truth?"

"Do you have a polygraph test handy?"

"You know I don't."

"Then you'll have to trust me."

Trusting Ralph didn't seem like a very smart thing to do. But what other choice did Skip have? He couldn't handcuff himself to Ralph to keep tabs on him for the rest of his life. At some point, he simply had to trust that the man, as much as he was hurting inside, would do the right thing.

"All right," said Skip. "I'll trust you."

"Thanks. Seeya."

"Seeya."

Ralph left. Skip stood on the sidewalk for a moment, feeling good about the way he'd believed in the fundamental goodness of human nature.

By the time he decided that he'd definitely been lied to, Ralph was long gone.

25

Kirk stood in the shower, feeling fantastic.

It would be a pain to wrap up his hands whenever he left the apartment for a while, but it was a small price to pay. He could have never imagined that a day where he was almost strangled to death would end up being one of the best days of his life. Every thrust, every moan, every trickle of bodily fluid was permanently etched into his memory.

He didn't really wish they'd captured it on video, but he kind of wished they had.

Everything seemed better now. The bar of soap was more fragrant. The shampoo was bubblier. He didn't think the water had ever been such a perfect temperature. If animated birds had flown into his bathroom and started whistling a catchy tune, he wouldn't have thought anything was abnormal about it. Life was magical.

When he got out of the shower, he thought, fuck it, he'd put on a bathrobe. He'd received a bathrobe as a birthday present many years ago and never wore it. But it seemed like the right time to lounge around his apartment in a bathrobe, sipping coffee, even though it was early evening.

Bathrobe-clad, he sat on the couch and turned on the television.

The doorbell rang.

Crap.

He got up and looked through the peephole. It was Myra.

Kirk let her in and gave her a kiss. "Hi," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"This is when I always come over."

Kirk glanced at a wristwatch that he wasn't wearing, then glanced at the wall for a calendar that wasn't there, then decided to take her at her word. "Sorry," he said. "I got my times and days mixed up."

"Should I leave?"

"Of course not." Kirk shut the door. "I'm always glad you're here."

"Nice bathrobe."

"Thank you."

Myra began to unbutton her blouse. "How've you been?"

"Good, good." Kirk was still completely spent, but he didn't want to arouse suspicion so he was going to have to man up and perform. Worst-case scenario, his tongue and fingers still worked. She wouldn't complain.

"What did you decide about the creepy guy who wanted you to screw his wife?"

Kirk chuckled. "I didn't even bother to write him back. I assume he found somebody else."

"Well, that's good." Myra tossed her blouse to the floor.

Kirk had no idea if she believed him, or if she assumed that he was sticking to the vow to lie to her if he did it. She didn't seem to be suspicious, so she probably believed him. He wouldn't correct her.

Myra unfastened her bra and also tossed it to the floor. "Do you know what I'd love?"

"What's that?"

"A nice massage. With that lime coconut lotion you've got."

"That can be arranged."

"Should we move to the bedroom?"

Kirk hesitated. He hadn't yet changed the sheets, and they most definitely needed changing. "You know what, I was eating pizza in bed and I got crumbs and sauce on it. You finish taking off your clothes and I'll take care of it." He kept the linens in his bathroom closet, so he went in there, hoping that she'd resume undressing and not question him.

He got fresh sheets, went into his room, and pulled the old sheets off the bed. Then he gave the room a test whiff. Damn. There was definite aromatic evidence of what had happened in here. He needed air freshener.

When he walked back into the living room, Myra was just about to tug down her panties. "Nice tits," he said, hoping the lighthearted comment would distract her from him hurrying back and forth.

She smiled and covered them with her hands. "Nobody said you could peek."

Kirk went back into the bathroom, opened the cabinet underneath the sink, and took out the can of air freshener. He didn't really want her to notice the can, but since she already knew the length and girth of his penis he couldn't get away with shoving it into his pants. Instead, he just left the bathroom and hoped she wouldn't say anything.

"Why do you have air freshener?" she asked, completely naked.

"I always spray air freshener before you get here. I just lost track of the time and day and didn't realize that you were coming."

He went into the bedroom and sprayed the "beach at sunset" scented air freshener all over. Then he hurriedly began to put the sheets on the bed.

"Do you want some help?" asked Myra, standing in the doorway.

"Sure." It would be weird to turn down her offer. Kirk didn't want to act any weirder than absolutely necessary.

He and Myra put the new sheets on the bed. He thought he saw her nose twitch a couple of times, but that might have been the way her nose normally worked. Though Kirk wasn't convinced that the spray had been sufficient to cover the fragrance of love, she'd know he was trying to hide something if he gave it another blast.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked.

"Sure."

"It's in the fridge."

"Okay." Myra walked out of the bedroom. The sight of her ass was still enticing, even in his exhausted state. If he did the massage very slowly, there might be enough recovery time for him to get it up.

When he heard the refrigerator door open, he sprayed the air freshener again. That would have to be enough. Also, he could start by rubbing a big blob of the scented lotion onto her shoulders, which would also mask the aroma.

Myra stepped into the room, holding two glasses of red wine. Kirk took one from her. They clinked their glasses together and kissed. Kirk untied the belt of his robe, then let it slide off his body and fall to the floor. Since he was a dude, it wasn't all that sexy of a move, but it got the job done.

Myra kissed him again, then placed her hand on his penis. "I just want you to know that I know you're hiding something," she said.

"I—"

"Shhh. I don't care. It's all fine. I just don't want to leave here after we're done and have you think you fooled me."

"Okay."

"Now make me feel good."

She set her glass of wine on the nightstand, then lay face-down on the bed. Kirk squeezed a generous amount of lotion into his palm then rubbed it onto her shoulders. She might know he was hiding something, but that didn't mean he was going to quit trying to hide it.

As his fingers kneaded her flesh, Kirk found himself getting aroused.

Already?

God, he was a machine!

* * *

"Oh, yeah, baby! Don't stop!"

Myra was bent over the bed while Kirk thrust into her from behind. He'd gotten so horny that he accelerated the timeframe of the massage, doing only a cursory rub of her lower half and skipping her feet entirely. They'd already had sex to completion with her riding him, but he'd asked her to stick around, and now they were several minutes into round two.

Best day ever. Best day ever. Best day ever.

The doorbell rang.

Dammit.

Kirk ignored it. A moment later, it rang again.

"Somebody's at the door," said Myra.

"They can wait." Kirk kept thrusting. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that it was probably a better idea to stop fucking Myra and answer the door than to continue fucking Myra and ignore the door, but he simply was not inclined to stop fucking Myra at this particular moment. He bent over her and kissed her back as he kept going.

"Don't stop," said Myra. "Don't stop, baby."

Kirk assured her that he had no intention of stopping.

Whoever was at the door began to knock.

Kirk stood up straight but kept thrusting. In fact, he grabbed Myra's hips tightly to assure her that he had no intention of stopping this pleasant activity.

You should stop and answer the door, he thought.

Fuck you, Kirk told his inner voice.

He should answer the door. It might be somebody selling something or passing out pamphlets, in which case it would be fine to ignore them until they went away, and it might be a neighbor complaining about the noise level in his apartment, in which case they could go fuck themselves, but it could also be one of the people involved in the recent craziness of his life.

It could be Julie. He'd love to see Julie again. Given the choice between a naked Julie standing before him and a naked Myra, he'd choose the naked Julie, but he wasn't going to be the kind of douchebag who'd kick Myra out of his apartment so he could have Julie. That would be tacky. And he certainly wasn't going to sacrifice a very nice friends with benefits relationship for one more romp with Julie. He did consider the possibility that the ladies, upon meeting each other, might go into full-on porn star mode, offering him the superior gender distribution of a threesome, but even for this week that was far-fetched.

It could be Ralph. It probably was Ralph. Well, he didn't want to see Ralph right now. He'd have to make up some excuse to Myra why he was wrapping up his dick and fingers. If Ralph was angry enough, he'd come back later.

It could be Skip. He couldn't think of any good reason that Skip would be knocking on his door, unless he'd left behind an article of clothing. He could wait, too.

Kirk acknowledged that this analysis might be different if he weren't currently having energetic sex. There was, for example, probably a pretty good reason that Skip might show up at his door that didn't involve a forgotten sock, but Kirk couldn't think of one. It would be okay. He wasn't going to be having sex with Myra forever.

The knocking turned into more of a pounding, like whoever was outside was using both fists.

"Maybe you should stop," said Myra.

Kirk shook his head, even though Myra was facing the wrong direction and couldn't see it. Admittedly, he did speed up, but only grudgingly, since things were going so well that he wasn't ready to come quite yet.

He was a single guy, living alone, and though this left a certain emptiness in his life, the advantage was that he wasn't supposed to be interrupted while having sex. That was for teenagers and people with kids. He moved his hands from Myra's hips to her ass, squeezing it hard while he pounded away.

Now the person was kicking the door.

"I should probably stop," he admitted.

"Yeah," said Myra.

Kirk pulled out of her, cursing under his breath. He picked up the bathrobe and put it on, still cursing. He continued to curse as he tied the fluffy cloth belt around his waist. His erection was visibly protruding, but he didn't care.

"Back in a second," he told Myra.

"Is somebody mad at you?" she asked.

"Why would anybody be mad at me?" He hurried out of his bedroom before she could answer. Now that he was devoting more of his brainpower to wondering who might be at the door than to saving sex with Myra, he really, really hoped it wasn't Ralph.

He looked through the peephole. It was Skip.

Kirk opened the door and let him in. "What the hell are you doing?" asked Kirk. "Are you trying to get me in trouble with the apartment manager?"

"It's important," said Skip, closing the door.

"I didn't answer the doorbell for a reason. How did you know I was even home?"

"I heard your girlfriend telling you not to stop."

"What do you want?"

"I needed to...oh, hello," said Skip, looking over Kirk's shoulder.

Kirk turned around. He knew who Skip was talking to, of course, but he wanted to see what state of undress she was in. Myra had a sheet wrapped around her.

"Uh, hi," said Myra.

Skip seemed transfixed. Kirk couldn't blame him. Myra was beautiful under normal circumstances, but now she had that "I was in the process of getting really well laid" glow, and the perspiration on her chest made the sheet cling to her.

"I'm Skip."

"Myra."

"How do you know Kirk?"

"We're friends."

"We're fuck buddies, okay?" said Kirk. "Why are you here?"

"Just buddies? No romance?"

"None," said Myra. "That's why he's allowed to lie to me."

"If there's no romance, maybe we could re-enact this afternoon," said Skip.

"Are you serious?" asked Kirk. "Did you really just say that? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Let the lady answer," said Skip.

"Are you serious?" asked Myra. "Did you really just say that? Are you out of your fucking mind? What happened this afternoon?"

"Nothing happened," said Kirk.

"Are you the guy who paid Kirk to have sex with your wife?" Myra asked.

"No," said Skip. He turned to Kirk. "Wait, Ralph paid you? That's fucked up."

"Why are you here?" Kirk asked.

"Did you two have sex with the guy's wife here today?" Myra asked.

"It's not my place to answer that," said Skip.

"Yes!" said Kirk. "Yes, that's what happened! This asshole and I had a threesome with the wife that I was paid to badly fuck! Okay? Has your curiosity been satisfied?"

"It went well," said Skip.

"Shut up," Kirk told him. "Myra, just so you know, it wasn't something we planned. She came over here—so, yeah, that part was planned, I'll admit—but Skip was here, and she just seized the moment and made us do her together."

"She made you?"

"She threatened us with not having sex with her."

"Got it."

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't absolutely awesome. And now I wish I'd lied. But, yes, it happened, and however you want to react is fine with me."

Myra turned to Skip. "And you're hoping we'll re-enact it?"

"I wouldn't say hoping. I figured I'd throw out the idea and see if it sticks."

"It didn't stick."

"Fair enough."

"There is no scenario in which I would have sex with both of you at the same time. Literally no scenario. Figuratively no scenario."

"Okay," said Skip. "Didn't hurt to ask."

"It did hurt to ask, because now I think of you as a depraved pervert."

"Oh."

"If there are an infinite number of alternate timelines that spring from each of the decision points in our life, there isn't one where I will have group sex with you guys. Even in my darkest, most private fantasies, from now until the day I die, you will not find one where I imagine letting you two double-team me. Have I clarified my position on the subject?"

"Yes," said Skip. "I have no further questions."

"You still haven't told me why you're here," said Kirk. "I assume it wasn't just to ruin my relationship with Myra. Although, knowing you, it might have been."

"No, I feel bad about that," said Skip. "I'm here because Ralph knows that we both had sex with Julie, and I'm not sure he's taking it well. I thought I should warn you."

"That's a good reason for coming over here," Kirk admitted. "I apologize for taking so long to answer the door."

26

Ralph didn't want to make any rash decisions. He set a timer on his phone, and decided that he was going to take a relaxing walk for exactly fifteen minutes before he decided how he was going to handle this matter.

Fifteen minutes later, he'd decided that Kirk and Skip needed to die, as slowly and painfully as possible.

He wasn't a wealthy man, but he could afford to rent a soundproofed basement somewhere, along with a variety of tools like pliers, saws, blowtorches, corkscrews, potato peelers, vices, scalpels, hypodermic needles, cheese graters, hammers, nails, and jagged dildos. He'd lock them down there for, oh, six or seven months. Hire a corrupt doctor to make sure they didn't die early.

The basement idea was probably impractical. But no way were those pricks getting off easy with broken necks or gunshots to the back of the head. They were going to suffer. And Ralph was going to laugh. Not a deranged laugh. Not one where they thought he'd gone insane. It would be a merry laugh, so they knew he was fully in control of his mental faculties and was enjoying every moment of their hellish misery.

He hadn't yet decided if he was going to kill Julie. Most likely he would. If Kirk and Skip turned up missing, she'd suspect his involvement, and he couldn't have her going to the authorities with what she knew. He wouldn't lock her in a basement and torture her for months. He'd just shoot her or something.

Maybe fifteen minutes wasn't long enough to decide if he truly wanted to kill them. He'd walk for another fifteen minutes and go from there.

About ten minutes later he started to waver, but his anger built over the remaining five, and by the end of the second fifteen minutes he was more committed than ever to the idea of Kirk and Skip dying horrible deaths. And, yeah, he'd kill Julie for sure.

Ralph didn't want to be stupid about this. He wasn't going to shout "Yaaaahhhhh!!!" and run at them with a butcher knife. It had to be gruesome and messy and splattery but he had to maintain his composure during it.

Two minutes later he decided, no, he was just going to go over to Kirk's apartment and stab him to death.

He owned plenty of knives at home, but Julie might get suspicious if he came home, grabbed a knife, and immediately left. Even if she didn't actually see him take the knife, she'd be thinking that she hoped he didn't find out about what she'd done, and wondering how he'd react if he did find out, and so having him come home and then leave right away would put her on high alert. He'd just buy another knife.

A gun would be better, but Ralph didn't have any real connections in the criminal underworld and didn't know how he'd acquire an untraceable weapon. Also, guns were loud. Stabbing was quiet, assuming the victim didn't scream.

Ralph walked back to his car. It felt good knowing that they were going to die. Killing them was something a real man would do. A real man didn't say "Oh, so you had intercourse with my spouse? Well, I certainly hope everybody enjoyed themselves. Sorry I couldn't be there!" No, a real man said, "Die, you motherfuckers! Die! Die! Die!" And then he stabbed them, over and over, opening his mouth wide to catch the drops of—

No, a real man did not open his mouth wide to catch the drops of blood. That was what an insane man did. Ralph had not snapped. If somebody witnessed the murders, they would understand that these were about vengeance, not madness. Ralph would not giggle. He would not keep any souvenirs. He wouldn't keep stabbing after they'd bled out. In fact, upon some reflection, he wouldn't even stab them in the really gross parts, like the eye. A few stabs to the chest, a witty comment or two, and then he was done.

A perfect plan. Flawless.

Ralph drove to the nearest department store. He didn't think it would seem odd for him to purchase a knife (it wasn't as if he was also buying a rag, some chloroform, and a body bag) but just in case he grabbed a few random items and also tossed them into his cart. The cutlery section didn't have anything that stood out for him, so he went over to sporting goods. He briefly considered how much fun it would be to tear them apart with fishing lures, but regained his focus and selected a stainless steel hunting knife with an eight-inch blade. Nobody fared well when they had eight inches of steel inside of their body.

He bought the items then went back to his car. He took the knife out of its packaging and held it for a moment, loving the way it felt in his hand, hearing it whisper to him...no, not hearing it whisper to him, but loving the way it felt in his hand.

He'd also purchased a package of Swedish fish, so he stabbed the shit out of those, pretending that they were Kirk's face.

Yes, this knife would do just fine.

Maybe he should wait until tomorrow. Sleep on it. Decide then if he was still this angry.

Nah. Tomorrow he might not be this angry, and then he might live in regret that he hadn't murdered Kirk and Skip when he was filled with enough fury to go through with it.

He'd head over to Kirk's apartment now.

He realized that he was stroking the knife in a loving manner. At least he wasn't cooing at it. He set the knife on the passenger seat, started the engine, and drove away laughing, but not maniacally.

27

Kirk and Skip were seated on opposite ends of the couch. Myra, now dressed, had elected not to sit between them, and was instead pacing nervously around the living room.

"Define 'not taking it well,'" said Kirk.

"He wasn't yelling and screaming or anything like that," said Skip. "And he wasn't frothing at the mouth. He was quiet. Too quiet. Like he'd internalized his rage. I got the vibe that if he bashed either of us to death with a baseball bat that he'd have a blank expression the whole time."

"That's not good," said Kirk.

"Nope."

"And he said he'd leave Julie alone?"

"Yes, but when somebody has a psychotic breakdown you can't necessarily take their word as gospel."

"I'm going to send a quick e-mail to warn her."

Kirk got up off the couch and walked over to the dining room table. He opened his laptop and sent Julie an e-mail: Ralph knows everything. He might be murderous. Please be careful.  Call me. He typed his phone number and sent the message.

"You should leave," he told Myra. "You could be in danger."

"No. You guys were stupid enough to get yourselves into this mess. You need somebody smart to keep you alive."

"So what's the plan?" Skip asked her.

"Don't ask her that," said Kirk. "We want her feedback but she shouldn't be responsible for coming up with a plan to save our dumb asses. God, do we suck! Okay, there are three of us and one of him. That's an advantage right there."

"Unless he has a gun," said Skip.

"Right. That will make things worse for us. And, quite honestly, if he's on his way over here seeking revenge, he may very well have a gun. So what do we do?"

"We could just not let him in," said Skip.

Kirk glared at him. "Please try to stick to saying helpful things."

"I'm just saying, unless he's willing to kick down your door or shoot off the lock, he can't get in here. It's not like we're out in an isolated cabin with nobody around for miles. I could hear you two having sex from the hallway, so surely your neighbors would hear him breaking down a door or opening fire. If he tries to scale to the second floor, we can just lean out the window and give him a shove. I really think that 'lock the door and don't let him in' is a solid plan."

"Then what? Hide in here forever?"

"He's human. He has to sleep."

"Why don't you call the police?" asked Myra.

"We can't," said Skip.

"Why not?"

"It's not important."

"If somebody is on his way over here with a gun and you can't call the police, the reason must be pretty important."

Skip cleared his throat. "Kirk and I met because I hid in his bedroom and tried to kill him."

"Excuse me?"

"It's true," said Kirk. "Welcome to my day."

"Let me get this perfectly straight because I feel like there's a lot of room for confusion here," said Myra. "You're telling me that he came over here intending to kill you, but instead you ended up screwing some violent guy's wife together?"

"Yes," said Kirk. "And it sounds bad even when you don't say it out loud like that. Even in the moment I was thinking, 'Wow, I hope I don't have to explain this to anybody.'"

"But you did it anyway?"

"If you saw Julie, you'd understand," said Skip.

Kirk told him to shut up.

"You could leave out that detail when you called the police," said Myra.

"Ralph hired me to do it," said Skip. "He'd blab."

Myra looked at Kirk. "Have you done anything criminal that you wouldn't want the police to find out about?"

"No. I mean, uh, I guess I took money from Ralph to have sex with Julie."

"And did you take this money from him at a legal brothel in Nevada?"

"No."

"So that would be prostitution."

"Agreed, but I gave the money back to him when he came over here."

"The violent husband came over here?" Myra asked.

"Uh-huh."

"Why?"

"He, y'know, found out that Julie and I had good sex instead of bad sex."

"He paid you a visit and you not only continued to have sex with his wife, but you invited a friend?"

"He's not my friend," said Kirk. "And I didn't invite him. But, yes, though you got some of the details wrong, what you said is correct."

"I hope you realize that I'm never going to sleep with you again."

"I didn't realize that, but I understand."

"Just to be clear, I think your reasons for not calling the police are stupid," said Myra. "I'll respect them for now, but I'm calling 911 the second I feel unsafe."

"That's reasonable," said Skip.

"Now that I know the chain of fucked-up events, I guess I understand why you thought that I'd have sex with both of you."

"Only Skip thought that," Kirk said. "I couldn't believe he even asked."

"My brain and mouth don't communicate well," Skip admitted.

"So do we have our plan?" Myra asked. "Lock the door and wait?"

"We have our plan," said Kirk.

28

"Oh, shit," said Julie, staring at her computer screen.

She'd said "Oh, shit" about a dozen times since receiving the e-mail from Kirk and didn't think she'd said it nearly enough times to convey her true feelings about the matter. There was no way to put an optimistic spin on this.

Her hands were trembling so violently that it took her a couple of tries to successfully tap Kirk's phone number.

"Julie?"

"How did he find out?" Julie asked. "I sure as hell didn't say anything."

"I don't know," said Kirk. "Skip found out when he talked to him."

"So Skip told him?"

"Let me find out." There were some muffled voices on the other end. "Yeah, Skip told him. He says he's sorry."

Julie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. She'd known she was taking a risk today, but she assumed that if she got busted it would be because of a tiny crucial detail she'd overlooked, not because she'd fucked a couple of morons.

"And Ralph said he was going to kill me?"

"No, apparently he ruled that out. It's Skip and me he wants to kill."

Julie felt like a complete bitch for being so relieved. She'd be wracked with guilt for the rest of her life if something happened to Kirk and/or Skip, but at least she'd have a rest of her life.

"Have you barricaded the door?"

"No. We just locked it. Do you think that's not enough? Is he the kind of person who'd try to break down a door in a hallway full of possible witnesses?"

"I've never known him to have a temper. But I've never cheated on him. You guys stay alert. I'm going to talk to him."

"Maybe you should—"

Julie hung up on him. She doubted Kirk was dispensing high quality advice right now. She called Ralph. After a few rings it went to voice mail. She called again and he answered on the fourth ring.

"Hi, sweetie," he said.

"Hi, Ralph. How are you doing?"

"Good."

"How was work?"

"Good."

"I'm surprised you're not home yet."

"Yeah. I stopped at the store to get a few things."

"Are you on your way home now?"

"Almost. Got a couple more errands to run."

"Okay, I know you know what I did, and sure, I could lie about it, but then I wouldn't be respecting your intelligence, and I love you too much for that."

"What did you do?"

"You know."

"I want to hear you say it."

"You don't want to hear me say it. I guarantee that you don't. It won't make you feel better."

"Tell me."

"I had relations with Kirk. And I had relations with Skip. And those relations happened at the same time."

"You were right," said Ralph. "I don't feel better hearing you say it."

"Does your errand involve killing them?"

"No."

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"I believe so at this moment."

"Don't kill anybody," Julie told him.

"Why not?"

"Because it's murder. If you have regrets later you can't take it back and say you were just kidding. And you'll go to prison for the rest of your life."

"Only if I get caught."

"You'll get caught."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you'd be the primary suspect! You have a big-ass motive! You'd be the first person the cops went after, and you'd probably still have blood dripping off your hands when they found you. Don't kill anybody, Ralph."

"Okay."

"You promise?"

"I said okay! I told you I wasn't going to kill them when you asked me the first time!"

"What's your errand?" Julie asked.

"It's not important."

"Are you going to Kirk's apartment?"

"Are you tracing my movements? Did you hack into my phone's GPS? Did you already call the FBI?"

"Of course not. It was a logical guess."

"Logical guess? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Please, Ralph, don't turn paranoid."

"I'm not paranoid. I didn't say a goddamn thing about aliens. But you suddenly know exactly where I'm headed and I'm supposed to assume you just guessed correctly out of the billions of places I could've been going? It's not like we live in some small town where the only destinations are Bob's house and Bob's barn. You're watching me. Can you see me now? What am I doing right now with my left hand?"

Julie was ninety percent sure that he was pretending to pick his nose, but guessing correctly would be the complete opposite of a smart thing to do right now.

"Ralph, I need you to calm down and think about this."

"Quit using my name all the time like you're trying to establish a personal connection with me. I won't fall for it."

"I'm your wife!"

"Still..."

"I haven't reported you to the police, and I haven't hacked your phone. I know that you're very angry with Kirk at the moment, which is why I guessed that you were headed over to his apartment."

"All right, that does make sense," Ralph admitted.

"What I'd like you to do is stop whatever you're doing, and spend fifteen seconds thinking about our conversation so far. Replay it in your mind. I'll tell you when the fifteen seconds is up. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure."

"Thank you. Start now."

Julie spent the next fifteen seconds taking long, deep breaths. She thought she was doing a pretty good job of not letting on that she was on the verge of hysteria. Somebody had to be the sane one here.

"Did you reflect upon the conversation?" Julie asked.

"Yes."

"And how do you think you sounded?"

"Maybe a little bit crazy."

"And do you think I'm right to worry that you might do something you'd regret?"

"Maybe."

"Not maybe. Think again about the part where you accused me of tracing your movements by hacking your phone."

"Okay, yes, you're right to worry."

"Do you have any weapons with you?"

"Does a knife count?"

"Yes."

"Then yes."

"What are you planning to do with the knife?"

"Wave it around menacingly."

"I'd like you not to do that."

"I'm not going to stab anybody with it."

"If you're waving it around, somebody could get stabbed."

"I suppose you're right."

"I'd like you to throw the knife away right now."

"I'm driving. I can't just roll down the window and chuck a knife out onto the road. It would pop somebody's tire. You act like I'm the one behaving irrationally but you're the one telling me to throw knives all over the place. What if it bounced up off the pavement and hit a baby?"

"I know our marriage is on shaky ground right now," said Julie. "But we've been together for a long time, and I have one huge favor to ask of you."

"What?"

"I'm going to head over to Kirk's. Swear to me that you'll meet me in the parking lot before you go up there. Let's talk about this face-to-face."

"You'll just try to persuade me not to do anything violent."

"Yes, that was my plan."

"Not interested."

"Make you a deal. If we talk and you don't think I've made my case well enough, I won't try to stop you. I'll step aside."

"If I get there before you, I wouldn't need you to step aside, because you wouldn't be blocking my way in the first place."

"C'mon, Ralph. I'm asking one small favor. Talk to me in person first. That's all I'm asking. It's not unreasonable after all we've been through together. Promise me you won't go up to his apartment."

"What if somebody asks me why I'm standing outside with a knife?"

"Leave the knife in the car. You can get it later. Actually, stay in the car. Pretend you're playing a game on your phone. I'll be there soon."

"See you then."

"Wait, you didn't actually promise me."

"I promise," said Ralph.

"Thank you." Julie disconnected the call. She wasn't entirely convinced that Ralph would wait for her, but she'd just have to trust that on some level he still had enough feelings for her that he wouldn't go on a mad killing spree without talking to her first.

She pushed back her chair and stood up as she called Kirk back.

"How'd your conversation go?" Kirk asked.

"He's on his way to kill you."

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

"He promised to talk to me in person first. I'm not saying he'll keep that promise. But if he waits for me, I think I can dissuade him."

"So, like, by offering him a blowjob?"

"No, Kirk. Not by offering him a blowjob."

"So, words then?"

"Yes. Words." Julie went outside through the back door. "You two just hang tight. I'll keep you posted on your danger level."

There was some murmuring on the other end.

"Did I hear a girl?" Julie asked.

"Oh, uh, yeah. My friend Myra is trapped in here with us."

"You're barricaded in your apartment with Skip and another woman?"

"Yes."

"Jesus Christ, Kirk."

"Calm down. We're not doing anything but being scared together."

"I'll talk to you later."

Julie shoved the phone into her pocket as she approached the shed in her backyard. She turned the dials of the combination lock, popped it open, and swung open the door. Clearly, she and her husband kept secrets from each other. He didn't know that she despised the bouillabaisse he made from scratch every year for her birthday dinner. He didn't know that she'd once been a butt double in a low-budget horror flick when the lead actress refused to do a nude scene. He didn't know that she occasionally shoplifted things she didn't need or even want for the thrill it gave her. And he didn't know that she kept an unregistered pistol in a box in the shed.

Her father had given it to her for her Sweet Sixteen party. "I hope you'll never have to use this," he'd told her. "And please don't feel like you have to use it just because it was expensive. I want it to stay in the box. Nothing would make me happier than knowing you'd never touched it. That said, there may come a time in your life when you need an untraceable firearm, and as your dad I think I should be the one to give it to you."

She knew exactly where the box was kept because every once in a while she'd come out here and cradle the gun to her chest for a few minutes—always with the safety on, of course. She retrieved the box from its well-hidden spot next to the exercise equipment, then left the shed.

Oh, Julie had no intention of shooting Ralph. She just felt like she might need more than words to dissuade him.

29

Kirk, Skip, and Myra sat in the living room, not sure how to pass the time.

"You guys sounded like you were having fun before," said Skip. "If you wanted to head back into the bedroom, I wouldn't think it was weird or anything."

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Kirk inquired.

"I wasn't inviting myself. I wasn't even asking to watch. In fact, I'd decline to watch if you asked me to because somebody needs to keep an eye on the door. All I'm saying is that all three of us don't need to be sitting out here bored."

Myra looked at Kirk. "What is going on in that man's brain?"

"I don't know. I don't understand anything about that asshole."

"You don't need to be rude," said Skip. "I made a selfless offer, you weren't interested, and now we can move on. If you'd made that offer to me, I would've taken it, so I don't think it's unreasonable to assume that you would, too. I haven't known you very long, but I've got reason to believe that you're open-minded."

"I was reluctant about the threesome," said Kirk. "Reluctant as hell. I wanted no part of it. Did I enjoy it? Sure. Would I do it again? Sure. Has it expanded my view of the world? Yes, I'll admit that it has. But that doesn't mean I've become some hedonist who's abandoned all pretense of following social norms! Civilized people don't go into their bedroom to have sex when there's a guest in the apartment and a psycho jealous husband on the way."

Skip nodded. "I misread the room. Wouldn't be the first time."

"Should we gather more weapons?" Myra asked.

They'd gone through the apartment searching for items they could use to defend themselves against an onslaught by Ralph. There were a bunch of metal utensils strewn across the kitchen counter, and they'd also gathered a broom, a pair of scissors, a can of bug spray, three frying pans, a jar of Jif in case he had peanut allergies (Skip's idea), a fireplace poker that Kirk owned despite never having had a fireplace in his life, a sex toy that Kirk mistakenly credited Myra with having forgotten at his apartment, generating even more conflict in their relationship, and a bottle of wine, which could either be used to break over Ralph's head or as part of the celebration if everybody lived through the night.

"Should we play word games?" Skip asked.

"No," said Myra.

And so they waited.

* * *

Ralph sat in his car, staring up at Kirk's second floor window.

Or what he thought might be Kirk's window. He wasn't positive how many windows across he should count to find the right one, and he hadn't noted the color of the drawn curtains on his previous visit. So he could be staring with hostile intent at somebody else's window. It didn't matter. Since Ralph inconveniently did not have the power to set somebody on fire with his gaze, the exact window was irrelevant.

He hadn't figured out his plan yet. He felt that he probably owed it to Julie to look into her puppy dog eyes and let her try to convince him that the disadvantages of slaughtering somebody outweighed the benefits. Though he wished he believed that they could salvage their marriage, he knew that every time he made love to her he'd envision some other guy right next to him trying to help out. Ralph could handle his wife shouting the wrong name during sex, but not the wrong two names.

He wasn't going to stab her, though. He had no immediate plans to stab her. He'd let things progress naturally, not try to force any particular course of action, but at this particular moment his prediction was that the day would end with Julie un-stabbed.

Ralph let out a long, deep sigh. In retrospect, he should never have approached Kirk in that pancake place. But hindsight was 20/20.

He wondered what it felt like to jam a knife into somebody. He picked up the knife, flipped it around in his left hand a few times, then brought the stainless steel tip up to the tender flesh of his right arm.

Hmmm. For a split second he'd considered jabbing the knife into his arm to see what it felt like. Ralph had to acknowledge that in that particular moment he'd been somewhat less than completely sane. Still, the moment was over and he felt sane now. He set the knife back on the car seat.

He wondered if Julie would bring along the gun she kept locked away in their shed that she didn't think he knew about.

* * *

As Julie drove toward Kirk's apartment, it occurred to her that a better plan might be to return home, grab as many of her belongings as she could fit into the car, clear out their bank account, floor the gas pedal, and get the hell out of town. Dye her hair black, start calling herself Petunia, and move to a small town with a low cost of living where people kept to themselves and didn't follow news of those big city crimes of passion.

No. That was a cowardly plan.

Julie was many bad things, especially today, but she was no coward. She would stop Ralph's rampage before it began, or die trying. No, "or die trying" was taking it too far, but she'd certainly be putting herself in harm's way, briefly.

She was about a minute from the apartment complex. She didn't hear any sirens or see any red and blue flashing lights, so it didn't appear that Ralph had started murdering people before she got there. She still had a narrow window of opportunity to wuss out.

The window of opportunity closed without her wussing out.

She pulled into the parking lot. Ralph's car was there. Ralph was in the car, which was a good sign. There was no visible blood on his face, so that was an even better sign. There was an empty spot right next to his car, but she didn't want to take that one. Julie parked at the other end of the building.

She was wearing her baggiest shirt. This wasn't to make her look unsexy, but rather to make it easier to hide the pistol she was going to wedge into the front of her pants. Ralph would feel it if he hugged her, but she felt that, considering the circumstances, she wouldn't arouse too much suspicion if she turned down a hug.

Julie triple-checked that the safety was on, even though she'd never taken it off the whole time she'd owned the weapon. She didn't want it to accidentally go off any time, but especially not when it was pointed directly at her labia. She shoved it down her pants, glared at herself in the rearview mirror to convince herself that she was a fierce warrior, and got out of the car.

* * *

Ralph shoved the knife down the front of his pants and got out of the car.

He and Julie walked toward each other. She looked fantastic in that baggy shirt that she almost never wore that turned him on because the armholes were too big so when she turned he'd catch a glimpse of side-bra. She hated that shirt. But she could certainly hide a gun underneath it.

He considered smiling at Julie to put her at ease, then decided that he couldn't trust his facial muscles not to give off a serial killer vibe.

* * *

Okay, yeah, Ralph was looking scary as fuck.

He seemed to be trying to maintain a calm expression but it wasn't working. If she'd seen him looking like this at any point during their marriage she would've said, "Nope, nope, nope!" and fled to the nearest divorce lawyer. His shoelaces dragged behind him with each lumbering step. The chances that this wouldn't end with her putting a bullet between his eyes suddenly seemed quite a bit more remote.

As they got within a few feet of each other, he held up his hands, palms out. "Don't worry," he said. "I left the knife in the car."

Julie wanted to ask him to lift up his shirt, but then he might ask her to lift up her shirt. She'd just keep a safe distance.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Not great."

"I'm sorry that things worked out this way."

"Me too, me too. But I think I may have come up with a solution."

"Really?"

"Hear me out. Don't say yes or no until I've finished explaining it. What I was thinking is that we could balance things out. You'd find one of your hottest friends, or we could use one of those dating sites to meet somebody, and then I could have two girls at once. We'd start off by me watching you two, and then at some point you'd beckon me over to join in the fun. You'd both go down on me at the same time, maybe one of you working the shaft while the other one works my balls—you'd get to choose who went where. Then you'd go down on her while I gently stroked your hair. After a few minutes, I'd move to a different spot and do you from behind while you kept licking her. I'd do you first because you're my wife. After you couldn't take it anymore, or she couldn't take it anymore, or I couldn't take it any more, I'd lie on my back, and she'd sit on my cock while you sat on my face, and you two would make out and play with each other's breasts. I wouldn't be able to see what was going on with your pussy grinding against my face but I'd be able to hear it and that's good enough. We'd do that for a while, and then you'd both get on your hands and knees, side by side. I'm leaving out some stuff, but I'm just trying to give you the basic gist. Anyway, I'd use my fingers on her while I was fucking you, and then I'd use my fingers on you while I was fucking her, and we'd keep it going until both of you came. Then we'd have this contest where I kept switching back and forth between you, maybe ten strokes at a time, and whoever I came in won the contest. It would be you of course, because even though we haven't decided on anybody yet I can pretty much guarantee that you'd be tighter and feel better. Oh, when I say 'came in' I'm not suggesting that I wouldn't be wearing a condom. I'd have one on every time I was inside of her, and that's a promise. Once I was done, you two could play with each other some more or we could all just relax or we could kick her out the door. Your call. We wouldn't make this a regular event; just a one-time thing. I truly believe that it would resolve my anger issues. What do you think? You don't have to answer right this second."

"Nobody can accuse you of not putting some thought into this."

"A lot of that was just off the top of my head. And of course we'd add or subtract whatever activities you wanted. You'd be the boss. As long as it was two women at once I wouldn't be fussy."

"Do I get to pick the girl?" asked Julie, who didn't care if she got to pick the girl, because she would not be participating in this fantasy, though Ralph didn't need to know that.

"By all means, yes. I wouldn't ask you to go down on a woman you weren't attracted to."

"If I realize that I don't like the way women taste in general, could I stop, no hard feelings?"

"Of course."

"What if we added another participant?"

"Like who?" Ralph asked.

"Maybe a certain...sock puppet?"

"Now you're just teasing me."

"No. Let's be honest. The hardest you've ever been is when I had Dippy on my hand, and if you're going to satisfy two women, you need to be at your hardest, right?"

"Well, I assumed that you'd do a lot of the work in satisfying each other, but yes, I think I could find another Dippy to replace the one you set on fire, and with two naked women on the bed I’m sure I could forget that it wasn't the original."

"And this would make you not feel like killing anybody?"

"Cross my heart," said Ralph, crossing his heart.

"Then let's do this."

"You're not on board with the idea."

"I just said I was. Totally on board. I'll even scissor her."

"I don't believe you."

"You'll believe me when you have four boobs pressed against you."

"You were recoiling the entire time I described the scenario. You're humoring me because you're hoping I'll give up on the idea of killing your whores. And just to be clear, I'm calling Kirk and Skip whores, not you."

"Understood."

"So, no, sweetie, we're not going to resolve this with a threeway," said Ralph. "We're going to resolve this with a chat. We'll go up to Kirk's apartment. You will tell him that you never want to see him again. I will tell him that he's an asshole. There will be absolutely no violence. But we will make it clear that if he tries to get in touch with you again, there will be violence. Then we will leave, go home, and figure out which one of us moves out. Are you okay with that?"

Julie tried to figure out if he was serious. His proposed course of action seemed reasonable. She just wasn't convinced that Ralph was in a reasonable mood. But did she have any choice except to trust him?

She decided that she had no choice, unless she wanted to just whip out the gun and shoot him in the face, which she didn't. She'd just stay on high alert.

"All right," she said. "That sounds fair."

"Good. Let's go." Ralph walked toward the building, stumbling a bit.

"Tie your shoes."

Ralph looked down at his feet and sighed with annoyance. He crouched down, then suddenly clutched at his stomach and cried out in pain. "Shit! Oh, shit!"

"What happened? What's wrong?"

"Stabbed myself in the gut!"

Julie hurriedly knelt down next to him. "Show me where it—"

Before she knew what was happening, Ralph had his hand under her shirt. And then he had the gun.

"I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb," he said. "Or at least I wasn't that dumb this time. Now let's go pay a visit to your boy-toys."

30

Julie didn't feel stupid for falling for the "pretending to accidentally stab yourself in the stomach while bending down to tie your shoe" trick. It wasn't a very common trick and it was, sadly, credible that she'd married a man who might injure himself in that manner.

Ralph had shown her that the knife wedged in his pants was in a protective leather sheath, because apparently he thought she was wondering how he'd pulled off that magic trick. Then he stuffed her gun in his pants next to it. Julie was disappointed that he was hiding the gun; her chances of escape would be improved if somebody could look out their window and call the police to say, "Hey, uh, some dude is pointing a gun at this lady in the parking lot."

Ralph grabbed her arm. "Walk naturally," he told her. "No funny business. I don't want to shoot or stab you."

"Please, just let me go," said Julie. She tried to summon tears, but she was so pissed off that she could only summon a scowl.

"I'm not hurting your arm, am I?"

"No."

"Let me know if I start to squeeze too tight. I'm trying to focus on a few different things at once and I don't want to hurt you."

"I will."

"Then let's move, bitch!"

They walked over to the front entrance to Kirk's building. Ralph reached for the door, and then hesitated.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have called you a bitch."

"It's okay," Julie assured him.

"No, it's not. It's really not. As angry as I am, there's no excuse for calling my wife—or any woman—a bitch. I lost control of myself. It won't happen again."

"At least you didn't call me a cunt."

"Please don't use that word."

Ralph opened the front door. Julie walked into the building, and he followed.

Julie desperately needed a plan. Though there had to be plenty of good ways to get out of this mess, she couldn't think of any at the moment. She could try to seduce him, but dropping to her knees and unfastening his pants would be too transparent. And their problems didn't stem from any unwillingness on her part to have sex with him, so offering him her body now probably wasn't going to do any good.

They walked up the stairs. Julie still didn't have a plan. She hated the idea of relying on a spontaneous plan of escape, but unless a brilliant idea occurred to her in the next minute or so, that was the best she could do.

A brilliant idea did not occur to her in the next minute or so.

* * *

Kirk, Skip, and Myra looked over at the door as somebody rang the doorbell. Kirk stood up and walked toward the door. Then he had a mental image of several shotgun blasts coming through the wood, and decided to approach the door from the side.

"Who is it?" he called out.

"It's me," said Julie.

Kirk leaned over and looked through the peephole. Yep, it was Julie, not somebody disguising their voice to sound like Julie.

"Are you alone?" Kirk asked.

"Yes."

Her features were distorted through the lens so he couldn't quite gauge her facial expression, but Kirk kind of got the impression that she was being held hostage. That perhaps Ralph was standing next to her, just out of peephole visibility range.

Nah. Julie was too clever to be outwitted by that dumbass.

Kirk opened the door.

"He has a gun," Julie said, as Ralph stepped into the doorway.

Ralph shoved Kirk backwards, then yanked Julie into the apartment, apologizing if he tugged on her arm too hard. He kicked the door closed behind him. It didn't close all the way, so he turned around, shut it, then turned back to face everybody while pulling a gun out from underneath his shirt.

"I'm not here to start executing people left and right," he announced. "As long as nobody does anything stupid, this might not turn into an orgy of bloodshed. Do I need to rattle off what qualifies as stupid or can you all figure it out?"

"Honestly," said Skip, "I'd prefer a list so that I don't get shot for doing something that I didn't realize was against the rules."

"You're done talking," said Ralph, pointing the gun at Skip's face. "Everybody on the couch, now!"

Kirk and Julie squeezed onto the couch next to Skip and Myra.

"I'm sorry," Julie told Kirk.

"It's all right," he replied, even though it really wasn't.

It was four against one. If the four of them simultaneously charged at Ralph, there was no possible way he could shoot all of them before they tackled him to the floor. Best-case scenario for him, he could shoot two. Maybe only one. However, for this plan to work, everybody had to agree that a twenty-five to fifty-percent survival rate was an acceptable risk. They probably wouldn't agree with that. And in fact, Kirk was already becoming dubious about his own hypothetical scenario, since he was likely to be Ralph's first target. Yeah, it was a terrible plan. They should just sit on the couch for now.

"Who are you?" Ralph asked Myra.

"Kirk's friend. I swear I'm not trying to throw anybody under the bus, but for the record, I do agree that you were treated badly. What these three did was completely inappropriate."

Ralph nodded. "I know, right?"

"That's all. Like I said, I'm not trying to sell out anybody to save my own skin. Just wanted to point out that I think you have a legitimate gripe. At the same time, if you shoot anybody, you'll lose your higher moral ground. Just wanted to point that out as well."

"Noted," said Ralph.

Kirk started to speak, then decided that he should raise his hand to be called on first.

"What?" Ralph asked.

"I also want to point out that when I told Myra about your offer, she told me in no uncertain terms not to do it. If I'd listened to her, none of this would have happened, or at least it would've happened with different participants. She's not just blameless; she played an active role in trying to stop it."

"I understand that she's innocent," said Ralph. "And I'm here for specific revenge, not mindless bloodlust. So I'm not going to harm her in any way, except maybe psychological damage, but there's nothing we can do about that. I can't let her go because she's obviously the most responsible person in this room and she'd call the police, but if anybody gets killed here tonight, it won't be her."

"Thank you," said Myra.

"No need to thank me."

Skip raised his hand.

"I'm not calling on you, so put your hand down," Ralph told him.

Skip lowered his hand.

"Like I said, I'm not here to start executing people left and right. In a perfect world, we'll all walk out of here still alive. All I have are some questions. Answer me honestly, and we can get through this. If I think you're lying, I'll shoot you. If I shoot you, I'll assume that a neighbor is going to call the cops and I have nothing more to lose, so I'll shoot everybody but Myra. Got it?"

Kirk, Skip, Julie, and Myra nodded.

Ralph pointed the gun at Skip. "We'll start with you."

"Truth."

"What?"

"Instead of dare."

"We're not playing Truth or Dare."

"Oh. Okay. Truth still works, then."

"When you and Kirk were fucking Julie, were any of you laughing at me?"

"No," said Skip. "Absolutely not. Nobody was laughing about much of anything. We had this playful vibe going on, like everybody was having fun, but I can't think of any examples of people laughing. I guess there may have been some nervous laughter because we were all new to this kind of thing. Nothing at your expense."

Ralph pointed the gun at Kirk. "Do you agree with that answer?"

"I could not possibly agree more with that answer. In fact, I'll expand it to include snickering, or any expression of mirth whatsoever. There literally was not a single moment, and I'm counting the other time when it was just Julie and I, where anybody gave any indication that they were getting enjoyment from knowing that this would upset you. And the only reason I'm avoiding eye contact when I say this is because if I look directly at you I have to look at the gun, and if I do that I'll wet my pants."

Ralph lowered the gun. "Say it now."

Kirk said the same thing, looking Ralph in the eye, praying that Ralph would see that he was telling the truth. He'd lied a lot recently, and didn't want the irony of dying over a truthful statement.

Ralph kept the gun lowered and looked at Julie. "Do you agree with Kirk and Skip?"

"I do. We didn't even talk about you. Hell, Skip had never even met you."

"Yes, he had. I'd hired him to kill Kirk."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't know that?" Ralph asked.

"No. I didn't really believe that he was there to fix the floor, but I didn't know you'd hired him to kill anybody." Julie looked a bit queasy. "I would not have pressured him into group sex if I'd known that."

"How did you know I'd met Kirk?" Ralph asked.

"What?"

"You said Skip never even met you. You should also think that Kirk never met me."

"Oh, that. I knew you paid Kirk to have sex with me. I didn't realize we hadn't already discussed it."

"We hadn't."

"Well, I knew."

Ralph looked very uncomfortable. "That's...embarrassing."

"It's not normal, that's for sure."

"Are there any other revelations hanging out there? Or is everybody caught up now?"

"I don't think I'm caught up," said Myra, "but I'm okay staying that way."

Ralph stood there silently for a moment. "I don't even remember what I was asking."

"If we'd laughed at you," said Kirk.

"That's right. You all say that you didn't, and I believe you. One point each. Next question. I'm going to start with Kirk. I paid you to have bad sex with my wife so that she would stop looking. You had very good sex with her. Then, after I made it clear that I was unhappy with the way things had worked out, you shared her with another man. What do you think is an appropriate punishment for you?"

"That's a tough one," Kirk admitted. "My foot never did heal from when you stomped on it, so I've already—"

"You're lying," said Ralph.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Have you seen my foot?"

"No, I saw your face just now when you told me about your foot. You're lying. Lie to me again and we'll see how fast your foot heals with a bullet hole in it. And the answer is that it won't heal at all, because after I blow a fucking hole in your foot, I'm going to blow a fucking hole in your skull, and the healing process will stop before it had a chance to begin. And then, like I said before, I'll blow a fucking hole in Skip's skull, and then I'll blow a fucking hole in Julie's skull, and then I'll turn this motherfucker around and blow a fucking hole in my skull. Myra will be covered in skull fragments. You think that's fair to her?"

"No," said Kirk.

"Then don't fucking lie to me again."

Kirk decided not to lie to him again.

31

"Punishment," said Kirk. "That's a very good question. You can look at it from a lot of different angles. Angle one would be, have I already suffered enough?"

"No," said Ralph. "You haven't."

"I would agree with that. You told me not to lie, and I'm not going to lie, so the truth is that except for having that gun pointed at me very little of this experience has involved what anybody would describe as suffering. So the next angle would be, have I learned my lesson?"

"You had sex with Julie again after I threatened you."

Kirk nodded. "That is indeed true. So, yes, you can argue that I have a history of not learning lessons. That said, the gun does change things. I can pretty much assure you that nobody in this room is going to have sex with anybody else in this room ever again."

Myra raised her hand. "I agree with that statement. I've already told Kirk that he's done having sex with me forever, and I'm not even on trial here."

Julie raised her hand. "I just want to say that while I will never have sex with Kirk and/or Skip again, I haven't ruled out having sex with you again, honey. Also, if a certain female-focused show might ease tensions, I wouldn't necessarily object to—"

"Not gonna happen," said Myra.

"Nobody is doing a girl/girl show while I'm waving a gun around," said Ralph. "It wouldn't feel consensual. Back to you, Kirk."

"Punishment. Right. I don't think I deserve capital punishment. Yes, there were some iffy moral choices made but none of them were truly evil. It was all based on the pursuit of happiness. So while I agree that this week was not free of mistakes, I don't think I should die. Or get shot and live. Really, nothing involving a gun is appropriate punishment for my behavior."

"So what is appropriate?"

"That's a very good question. A deep sense of shame, maybe? Because aside from pure terror, shame is the strongest emotion I'm feeling right now. As we sit here and discuss what happened, I feel like an absolute fuckhead. What about you, Skip? Do you feel like a fuckhead?"

"Oh, yeah," said Skip. "Mega-fuckhead."

"See?" Kirk asked. "And let's be honest, Skip is not the kind of self-aware guy who would think of himself in those terms unless the feelings were really intense. I can assure you that for the rest of my life, at least once a day, probably several times a day, I'll have moments where I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or see my reflection in a pool of water and think to myself, 'God, what a frickin' fuckhead.' It's part of my self-definition now. Not to be a drama queen, but it's haunting. Very, very haunting."

"Low self-esteem is not sufficient punishment," said Ralph.

"All right. Maybe you could steal some of my stuff. Take the TV. I'm broke. I can't afford to go out and buy a new TV right now, so I'll see spoilers for all of my favorite shows before I catch up."

"I don't want your TV."

"You wouldn't have to keep it. You could take it and smash it. You could make me watch while you do it. It would actually be worse punishment to watch you destroy my TV than for me to know that somebody was getting enjoyment out of it."

Ralph frowned. "I don't think this discussion is working. I may have to kill you." He pointed the gun at Skip. "What do you feel is an appropriate punishment?"

"Kick me in the balls. Then kick Kirk in the balls."

"I like that. Simple. Straightforward."

"That doesn't actually sound good to me," said Kirk.

"We've moved past you," said Ralph. "Thank you, Skip, for your useful contribution to the conversation. Julie, same question."

"Kicking them in the balls sounds reasonable and fair."

"I mean punishment for you."

"You said we're not supposed to lie, right?"

"Right."

"Then my opinion is that I don't deserve punishment."

"Your opinion is wrong."

"I knew you hired Kirk. That, from my perspective, gave me license to let him do what he was being paid to do. Now, I didn't know he was being paid to not give me orgasms, but based on the information I had at my disposal, it made perfect sense to go back with him to a hotel room. I thought it turned you on to think of me with another man and you just didn't want to say anything. You hired him, you set the balls in motion, and if things got out of hand, you're the one who should take the blame."

"I hired him because you were planning to cheat on me."

"I was not."

Ralph pointed the gun at her. She cringed and pressed herself into the couch as Ralph held the gun right between her eyes. Kirk wanted to be a hero and smack the gun out of the way, but Myra and Skip were sitting between them.

"Care to say that again?" Ralph asked.

Julie closed her eyes, as if to regain her composure. When she opened them, she leaned forward, pressing her temple right against the barrel of the gun.

"I was not planning to cheat on you," she said. "I never considered it."

"Bullshit. That is a lie! I saw what was on your screen! You were on dating sites! What, am I supposed to believe that they use a picture of a half-naked couple on a site where you exchange cake recipes?"

"It was book research."

"You're not writing a book."

"Yes, I am. I've written a bunch of books. I've just never told you about them."

Ralph pulled the gun away from her face. "So, what, you're, like, a famous author and never told me?"

"I've never published anything. Never even sent it out. But I'm writing a smut novel called Just The Sex Parts Of My Diary and the characters meet on a dating site. It was research. I wasn't looking to cheat on you."

"Is it any good?"

"I like it so far."

Ralph shook his head. "No. I don't believe you. You're trying to save your life."

"Read it! It's on my computer!"

"Your computer isn't here."

"Go get it."

"But then I wouldn't have everybody at gunpoint."

"I could go get it," said Skip.

"Shut the fuck up," Ralph told him.

"I could go get it," said Myra. "I won't call the police because I know this could end up with mass carnage if you're cornered with no escape. In exchange, you have to promise me that if she's telling the truth, this all ends."

Ralph nodded. "Yeah, you know what, yeah, I can promise that. If the novel is there, and there's stuff in it where she'd have needed to research online dating sites, yeah, I'll admit that I started this whole mess and I'll stop pointing the gun at people."

"No delusional stuff," said Myra. "No accusing me of writing the novel on the way back to cover for her. No accusing me of buying somebody else's novel and then cutting and pasting it into a document on your wife's computer."

"You can see when the file was created," said Julie. "Also, there's a scene in the book that came directly from our life. All I did was change the names. Myra would have no way of faking that."

"No accusing me of having psychic abilities," said Myra.

"All right," said Ralph. "Let's do this."

Julie gave Myra the address and her house key. "I'll be right back," Myra told them, as she left the apartment.

"I have a good feeling about this," said Ralph. "But I do want to mention that if this is a trick, I'm totally going batshit insane and nobody survives."

"We'd all deserve it," said Julie.

"Is it okay if I take a bathroom break?" asked Skip. "I've been stressed out since you got here and I really have to pee."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Skip got up off the couch. He started to walk toward the hallway, but Kirk noticed that he was veering off-track a bit, as if he might be considering going for the kitchen counter where all of the makeshift weapons lay.

"No!" Kirk said. "Bad! Bad!"

Skip resumed his course toward the bathroom.

"Do you think she could steal all of our stuff and flee the state?" Ralph asked.

"Nah," said Kirk. "She has a good job. She doesn't need your stuff." It would never have occurred to Kirk that Myra might rob them, but now Kirk had to admit to himself that he had a slight sense of unease. Just a slight one. Myra wouldn't flee. She wouldn't let this turn into mass carnage.

"How come you never told me about your books?" Ralph asked Julie.

Julie shrugged. "I thought you might think that my dream of becoming a writer was silly."

"No, I think it's great. I'm proud of you. If the books exist. Which I'm sure they do."

"Do we have to stay on the couch, or can we walk around?" Kirk asked.

"You have to stay on the couch. There may be less tension than there was before, but this still isn't resolved. We could all still die. Don't forget that."

"I won't."

Skip walked back into the living room. He glanced over at Kirk as if asking permission to wander over to the weapons table, and when Kirk made it very clear that permission was not granted, Skip shrugged and sat back down on the couch. They settled in to wait.

* * *

"How long has she been gone?" asked Skip.

"Three minutes," said Kirk.

"Jesus," said Skip.

* * *

"Do you have any board games?" Skip asked Kirk.

"Nobody's playing board games," said Ralph. "Just sit on the couch."

"What about cards?"

"No. You might try to use the playing cards as a sharp projectile."

"I don't think we could defeat you with playing cards."

"Don't talk."

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, the doorbell rang. "It's me," said Myra. "I've got the laptop."

Ralph hurried over and opened the door. Myra stepped inside and proudly held up the computer. Ralph took it from her and handed it to Julie, who opened the lid and started booting it up.

"I'm impressed," said Skip. "I totally thought you were going to rob their home and leave us all to die."

"Why the hell would you think that?" Kirk asked. "You don't even know her."

"I guess it's what I would do. I never said I was a role model."

"Okay, here we go," said Julie. "I think you're going to have to sit down next to me, unless you can hold the laptop, scroll through the document, and hold the gun at the same time."

"I can't do that," said Ralph. "Everybody but Julie off the couch. You could try something, but when we're this close to fixing all of our problems it would be kind of dumb."

Kirk and Skip got off the couch. Ralph sat down next to Julie.

"We're obviously not going to sit here and read the whole thing," said Julie. "We'll just scroll through. If I'm going too fast, let me know."

"Okay."

They both stared at the laptop monitor.

"Oooh," said Ralph. "The action gets started right away."

"Naturally."

"Oh, look at that, two chapters in and, yeah, the online dating thing checks out. I'm glad that you took the time to make sure you got the details right. A lot of authors don't bother to do their research."

"How do you know that if you never read books?" Julie asked.

"That's what I hear. Wow, that's pretty raunchy right there. I didn't even know you knew that word."

"Do you like it?"

"I wouldn't want it done to me, but I like reading about it."

"This is the part I was telling you about," said Julie, tapping the screen.

"Oh my God! Yes! I remember that! The goat stole the hot dog right out of that kid's hand! That was the funniest thing I ever saw! Holy shit! I think we even said at the time that it should go into a book!"

Julie and Ralph laughed for a while, while Kirk, Skip, and Myra waited patiently to learn if the bloodbath had been averted.

"And that's it," said Julie. "I've got quite a bit to go, but I'm happy with it so far."

"It's great!"

"So I wasn't trying to find a guy to cheat on you with."

"I should've just asked you about it," said Ralph. "If we'd communicated a little better, none of this would've ever happened. It's a pretty good life lesson."

"Is it over?" Kirk asked.

"It's over," said Ralph.

"Are you going to kick us in the balls?" asked Skip.

"No."

32

"This has been interesting," said Myra. "Glad I could be of assistance."

"Thank you for everything," said Julie.

"Just to be clear, Kirk, you're never going to see me again. Don't text me, don't call me, and I'm blocking you on Facebook. If I hear from you at all, I'm filing a restraining order."

"I completely understand," said Kirk.

"Bye all!" said Myra, waving to everybody as she left the apartment.

"She seemed very nice," said Julie.

"She was," said Kirk. "She really was. Not gonna lie; I regret driving her away like this. It's never good when your friend with benefits thinks you're a drooling pervo."

Julie closed the laptop lid. "I guess I should be heading off, too."

"So," said Ralph, "is it safe for me to assume that the gun-waving and the threats and all of that are pretty much a deal-breaker as far as saving our marriage is concerned?"

Julie nodded. "Yeah. You did shove a gun right in my face."

"I did do that, yes. I remember. I'm not proud of it."

"Basically what I'm going to do is go live with a friend or relative without telling you who it is. And I'm going to hire some movers to come get my stuff. At some point you'll hear from a lawyer, but I'll leave out the threats of murder if you'll leave out the adultery."

"Deal," said Ralph.

Julie stood up. She extended her hand to Kirk. "Well, it's been an adventure. I know you think that because Ralph and I are splitting up, there's a chance that we'll get together again, but it's not going to happen. And you may also think that I'm only saying that because Ralph's sitting right there, but that's also incorrect. It's nothing personal; I'll just forever associate sex with you with being kidnapped and thinking I was going to die."

"I can't argue with that," said Kirk, shaking her hand.

She turned and extended her hand to Skip. "It was nice meeting you. Obviously, the same thing I told Kirk about associating sex with you with being kidnapped and thinking I was going to die applies to you as well."

"That sucks," said Skip, shaking her hand.

Julie left.

"Well," said Ralph, standing up, "I don't think any of us would say that this turned out well, but it sure could've been worse, right? I mean, the walls and floors could be covered with blood. So we did okay. I don't feel rewarded that our paths in life have crossed, but, hey, shit happens. Bye."

Ralph shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants and left the apartment.

"I don't care what any of them say," said Skip. "I still think it was worth doing."

Kirk had no response to that.

"Mind if I hang out here for a while? I have nowhere else to be."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"You sure? We could play some Monopoly."

"I will never play Monopoly with you. Never."

Skip shrugged. "Cheer up, buddy. At least we have each other."

Kirk glared at him.

The End

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Books By Jeff Strand

Bring Her Back. A tale of revenge and madness.

Sick House. A home invasion from beyond the grave.

How You Ruined My Life (Young Adult). Sixteen-year-old Rod has a pretty cool life until his cousin Blake moves in and slowly destroys everything he holds dear.

Everything Has Teeth. A third collection of short tales of horror and macabre comedy.

An Apocalypse of Our Own. Can the Friend Zone survive the end of the world?

Stranger Things Have Happened (Young Adult). Teenager Marcus Millian III is determined to be one of the greatest magicians who ever lived. Can he make a live shark disappear from a tank?

Cyclops Road. When newly widowed Evan Portin gives a woman named Harriett a ride out of town, she says she's on a cross-country journey to slay a Cyclops. Is she crazy, or...?

Blister. While on vacation, cartoonist Jason Tray meets the town legend, a hideously disfigured woman who lives in a shed.

The Greatest Zombie Movie Ever (Young Adult). Three best friends with more passion than talent try to make the ultimate zombie epic.

Kumquat. A road trip comedy about TV, hot dogs, death, and obscure fruit.

I Have a Bad Feeling About This (Young Adult). Geeky, non-athletic Henry Lambert is sent to survival camp, which is bad enough before the trio of murderous thugs show up.

Pressure. What if your best friend was a killer...and he wanted you to be just like him? Bram Stoker Award nominee for Best Novel.

Dweller. The lifetime story of a boy and his monster. Bram Stoker Award nominee for Best Novel.

A Bad Day For Voodoo. A young adult horror/comedy about why sticking pins in a voodoo doll of your history teacher isn't always the best idea. Bram Stoker Award nominee for Best Young Adult Novel.

Dead Clown Barbecue. A collection of demented stories about severed noses, ventriloquist dummies, giant-sized vampires, sibling stabbings, and lots of other messed-up stuff.

Dead Clown Barbecue Expansion Pack. A few more stories for those who couldn't get enough.

Wolf Hunt. Two thugs for hire. One beautiful woman. And one vicious frickin' werewolf.

Wolf Hunt 2. New wolf. Same George and Lou.

The Sinister Mr. Corpse. The feel-good zombie novel of the year.

Benjamin's Parasite. A rather disgusting action/horror/comedy about why getting infected with a ghastly parasite is unpleasant.

Fangboy. A dark and demented fairy tale for adults.

Kutter. A serial killer finds a Boston terrier, and it might just make him into a better person.

Faint of Heart. To get her kidnapped husband back, Melody has to relive her husband's nightmarish weekend, step-by-step...and survive.

Mandibles. Giant killer ants wreaking havoc in the big city!

Stalking You Now. A twisty-turny thriller soon to be the feature film Mindy Has To Die.

Graverobbers Wanted (No Experience Necessary). First in the Andrew Mayhem series.

Single White Psychopath Seeks Same. Second in the Andrew Mayhem series.

Casket For Sale (Only Used Once). Third in the Andrew Mayhem series.

Lost Homicidal Maniac (Answers to "Shirley"). Fourth in the Andrew Mayhem series.

The Andrew Mayhem Collection. All four novels for one low price!

Suckers (with JA Konrath). Andrew Mayhem meets Harry McGlade. Which one will prove to be more incompetent?

Gleefully Macabre Tales. A collection of thirty-two demented tales. Bram Stoker Award nominee for Best Collection.

Elrod McBugle on the Loose. A comedy for kids (and adults who were warped as kids).

The Haunted Forest Tour (with Jim Moore). The greatest theme park attraction in the world! Take a completely safe ride through an actual haunted forest! Just hope that your tram doesn't break down, because this forest is PACKED with monsters...

Draculas (with JA Konrath, Blake Crouch, and F. Paul Wilson). An outbreak of feral vampires in a secluded hospital. This one isn't much like Twilight.

For information on all of these books, visit Jeff Strand's more-or-less official website at http://www.jeffstrand.com