Cat and Mouse

She looked straight ahead, where her nimble little hands were fraught with cock. "Well, Ali, I guess I'd better make it up to you."

She slipped her mouth over me once more, unable to fully consume it, but still managing to swallow more than enough to make my feet buckle out from under me.

I stroked her short brown hair. She'd recently gone short, and I mean she cut it so short that the back area was almost a buzz, and the slight bristle felt good poking into my palm. I coiled my fingers into the longer hair on top, until it was trapped in my fists, and gently pulled as she bobbed up and down. I then slid my hand along her cheek, hollowed from opening her mouth so wide, and felt my own cock driving past on the other side. Finally, I returned my hand to the bristly hairs on the back of her head, and cupping it, began to push her forward while thrusting my cock deeper down her gullet. It caused her to choke, but she recovered quickly by clenching the back of her tongue, a reaction that squeezed Ali's head against the roof of her mouth. A little painful, yes, but far too satisfying not to attempt again. She planted her hands on my thighs for an added sense of security and met my efforts with a gagging gasp that ended with me almost balls deep in her throat. The sound struck a nerve in me. It hadn't been anything like the pretty sighs of hers during sex, which I'd compare to a choir boy softly singing a hymn. This sound was primal, an unbridled hunger devouring meat. Un-composed passion! Guttural jazz! It hit me like a drug, shook something loose in my head, and I pulled her off me. I placed my hands on her cheeks to cradle her face, planted a big kiss on her sweet full lips, and said, "Do you really want to earn that ticket?"

Her eyes were full of wine, lust, and glitter, walking around naked and having me take her right there on the floor had set her on fire, and I think I could have asked for just about anything––anything! So I had to make it good, and I knew just the thing.

A pretty good friend of mine named Chris had a story he loved to share every chance he got. The son of a bitch actually nailed two chicks at once in his own bed. I couldn't even imagine how smooth you'd have to be to pull off a feat of that magnitude. And it hung with him, always, making him stand out as a hero amongst even the best looking of my friends. But then maybe it had nothing to do with being smooth, maybe the S.O.B. just had an opportunity present itself and was smart enough to nab it. His planets had aligned and he knew it.

Looking down at Ellie––she'd proven to be more wild than our four years of marriage had prepared me for, walking around bare-ass-naked and getting hotter than a bullet casing,––I realized my pussy moon might've just aligned with planet stud, and this might be a once in a millennium occurrence. I fucking had to act on opportunity, I had to become Chris's heroic equal, and I had to do it now!

"You ever wonder," I began, stopping to take a deep breath before leaping into the big boy's pool, "I mean, have you ever thought about what a threesome might be like?"

Her eyes shifted on me, going from eager to surprised, and then she finally just appeared a little disturbed. She remained silent, as if I might have more to say, and I found myself really wishing I had.

She then spoke, "You're serious? A threesome?"

"I don't know," I quickly replied, "You don't think it would be kinda wild?"

"You just asked me if I wanted to have a threesome!"

"I just thought-"

"I have to make a phone call," she announced, completely cutting me off.

She leapt up and went straight to the bedroom, shut the door, and left me standing naked in our living room with an aching hard on. Her dress was next to me on the floor, so small it barely amounted to anything. It reminded me of how small she appeared while naked on the balcony. Then I thought about the dagger of jealousy I felt over seeing her stroke Luke's chest. And what is my answer to that? I turn around and toss out the idea of another woman in our bed, like she wouldn't feel so much as pin prick over that. Of course she was going to be pissed about it!

Hoping I hadn't fucked the evening up completely, I kicked it on the couch naked and waited in silence. After five excruciating minutes I got up and went to the bedroom door to listen. She was laughing, and although I couldn't hear any actual words, I could tell by the way she laughed that she was yapping to her best friend Hailey.

To be honest, Hailey is who I'd sort of had in mind for the threesome. She was cute, and just wild enough to agree to something like this as a favor to her best friend. But I'd known better than to mention her to Ellie. At least I hadn't blown it there.

On a positive note, Ellie didn't sound mad. In fact, when I heard her laugh I'd entertained the idea that maybe she was in there setting things up. Then I heard the door starting to open and I moved away. When she came out she had a smile on her face that I couldn't quite read, and she moved closer, hugged me, pressing her face against my chest, and said, "I need to think it over, OK? I just need a day or so."

I couldn't believe my ears. Even the possibility of it happening had my dick up again. I asked, "What about this?" and directed her attention to my hard on by looking at it myself.

"We'll get back to that tomorrow, too."

"Wait, you can't start something like this and then stop. You know it's gonna take years off my life leaving the job half done!

"You have got to be kidding!" I was, and she knew it, because I'd used that line before.

"And I still haven't forgiven you for stroking Luke's chest."

"Oh my god," she said, as she grabbed my hips and returned to her knees. Smiling she said, "You are such a selfish fella, Ali!"

She took me as deep as she could. Her jaw line was so perfect and clean, and the area from her checks to her chin was smoother than undisturbed cream. She'd neatly penciled her lips a deep red, but going down on me for a second time, the color began to travel outwards, giving the appearance of bloodlust. And the whole time, racing through my mind, was her and Hailey, and chick on prick on chick action. In no time at all I'd forgiven her, and she swallowed up every exonerating drop I had to offer.

The next night I waited up until twelve-thirty, the time she usually arrives home from work, but there was no sign of her. She had an eight to midnight shift as a cocktail waitress at the downtown Hilton bar, and had been taking a cab ever since she was involved in an accident. She didn't get hurt, but her Civic was declared totaled, and even though she wasn't at fault, the cops gave her a sobriety test and she ended up with a suspended license. Our insurance company really screwed us on a premium after that, so we decided to add the payout for the Civic to our savings and just keep our one car, my old Corvette. I typically dropped her off at work, but depending on how busy it was she'd get off at different times, and it just ended up being smarter for her to take a cab home. None of this is really important, but I mention it because I've always been paranoid people were thinking, "What an asshole he must be, having his wife catch cab after midnight."

When she finally came through the door I checked the clock and it read one-thirty. Apparently it had been an exceptionally busy Saturday night. Turned out there was a group that was tipping like they had it to give, so she and John, the bartender, decided to keep the bar open an extra hour. She immediately pulled a wad of cash out of her pocket and tossed it on the coffee table.

"That almost makes up for taking last night off."

The minute she said that I could tell she'd been drinking. I was actually concerned about how often she'd come home drunk from work. She laid her overcoat on the arm of the sofa, collapsed onto the cushions, kicked off her heels, peeled off her white stockings, and propped her feet on the coffee table.

I wanted to ask about her decision, but she was beat, and I thought I'd better not press it. So I waited, and listened to her run through all the gossip circulating the hotel.

Finally she closed her eyes and said, "I've been thinking about last night, the whole threesome thing."

"Yeah," I said, trying to control my excitement.

"I could see how it might be kind of wild."

"Really? I mean you're cool with the idea."

"Maybe. But I get to pick the guy. I'm not screwing one of your loser friends. I can't think of a bigger turn off than that."

My head almost spun around, and I laughed, "A guy?"

"What? Oh, you didn't mean another guy?"

She knew exactly what I meant and was yanking my chain. "No, I didn't. And you know it!"

"So, you want to fuck another girl then?" All of a sudden she wasn't smiling. "That's what this is all about, huh? Is there someone you had in mind? No, I don't even want to know."

"No, I don't want to just fuck another girl. That's not what a threesome is."

"It isn't? Then what is it?"

"It's... It's about both of us enjoying the company of another."

"Then it shouldn't matter if it's guy, right?"

"Of course it matters."

"So it's OK for you to shove your dick into some girl, but god forbid some guy do that to your wife." She stopped talking for a second and then said, "Are we arguing? Shouldn't we be taking off our clothes right now?"

It was one of the rare instances that she'd initiated the house rules on arguing, and she started to undress. I followed, and as I pulled off my pants, I asked, "So you want to sleep with another guy, is that what you're saying?"

"Ha!" She laughed. She'd just taken off her white collared shirt and she reached into the pocket and pulled something out. She tossed two business cards on the coffee table next to the cash. "I throw away at least six of these a week, all from attractive guys. If I wanted to screw someone else, I could make one phone call."

"Then what? You're just trying to prove a point?"

"No, I think the idea sounds fun––wild!"

"So you want to have a threesome, or you don't want to have one?"

She was completely naked at this point. "What I'm saying is, let's keep or mind open to all possibilities. You can try to find a girl and bring her home some night," she said with a bratty smile, "And I'll just try to find us some guy". She picked up one of the business cards and read it, "Maybe Stewart Ellsworth. He's a… Oooo, he's a loan consultant. That's right; he was the guy the hotel hired, a blonde guy with a great ass." With the card stuck between two fingers like a cigarette, she held her 'girls', playfully squeezing them, and asked, "What about it, girls, do you want to meet a handsome gentlemanly loan consultant? Well, hopefully he's not too gentlemanly."

Jesus, was she wicked, making me out to be the jealous one, and forcing me to call it off. But then again, just in doing this, she'd all but admitted to me how jealous she was feeling, which boosted my confidence enormously. So much so, that it made it easier to let the threesome thing go.

"Go ahead and keep the ticket," I caved.

She smiled, knowing she'd out foxed me.

We went to bed after that and cuddled. I rubbed her shoulders and neck until she rolled over and said, "I love you Peter. I really, really do." At that point I climbed on top of her and we didn't get to sleep until three-thirty in the morning.

She was still sleeping when I headed out to pick up our usual Sunday donuts, and then I saw our neighbor Luke on the stairs.

"Pete," he called, and then wasted no time in saying, "Hey, did Ellie tell you I bumped into her the other night? What was that all about? I step out of my door and, bam, I almost didn't recognize her. I mean, I just never pegged her as the kind of girl who... I don't mean... Shit, you know what I saying, right?"

"We're a couple of adventurous spirits, I know what you're saying."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. I just never thought of her as being an adventurous spirit, not like that. You know Jean and Bill?"

"Nope."

I started to realize how Ellie must have felt getting trapped by this guy's barrage of conversation.

"Jean and Bill, the Fredericksons? They live four doors down from me. Jean sort of epitomizes married chicks for me. I mean, Ellie's far prettier, man, don't get me wrong, but also consider yourself lucky Ellie's still got a pulse. Jeeze, did Ellie tell you the Fresricksons almost caught her? Can you imagine what they would've done if they came out and found what I found? I'm pretty sure I kept them from seeing squat, though. Thank god Ellie is small or she would've had some uncomfortable explaining to do. Shit, even I would've had to explain what I was doing talking up some hot naked chick. Hey, that was out of line, wasn't it? Sorry man. I'm fourth generation Italian-American––I'm just talking, don't get me wrong."

"You're fine, Luke. She's hot, and I can't deny it."

"Yeah man, you really scored. Ellie gives me hope for marriage. I mean, like with Jean, I couldn't even imagine doing that chick––probably because I can't even think about her without thinking of Bill, too. It's like she's destined to fuck that dude, encapsulated in the same sixteen by twenty apartment bedroom two nights a week, for like forever. There's something to be said for being sexually exclusive, but married girls always strike me as sexually excluded. You know, sex gets boxed up and put out on the curb with her tiny halter tops and pumps. But for me a chick's got to have a mind of her own, you know? But then if she is interested in sex, the marriage is always so full of jealousy that they hate each other and just make each other miserable. I don't know, maybe I'm way off base. Any advice on that?"

He wasn't way off at all. Although I kind of loved Ellie's hot blooded fire, it guaranteed I'd never lose interest. I answered him the best I could, "I think the trick is learning how to channel your jealousy."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm wrong about Jean, too. Maybe I'll open my door and there will be Jean squeezing her bare titties and flashing me her snatch. Not that Ellie was doing... Man, I'm still just talking, you know that."

"Don't worry, Luke."

"All I'm saying, or trying to, is that you're lucky to have a chick like Ellie. Hey, would it bother you if I razzed her about the other night? I mean, is she totally embarrassed?"

"I'm sure she could handle a razzing."

"Fucking walked around the whole upstairs baring everything. That girl's got guts, man!"

After he left, I kept thinking about the jealousy between Ellie and me. Despite what I'd advised to Luke, I hadn't channeled my own jealousy very well. It actually bugged the shit out of me to have a conversation with him about my naked wife. Plus, the look he had in his eye as he spoke about her, and the way he spoke about her, suggested that our marriage had no bearing whatsoever on how he thought of Ellie, almost like she was fair game, and damn good game at that. I flashed back to Ellie's dress laying on our apartment floor, and how it was so small it almost looked like nothing at all. I then understood the difference between a man's jealousy and a woman's. My jealousy wasn't as simple as irrationally wanting to possess Ellie all to my self. There's much more to a man's jealousy than that, because if someone the size of Luke fucked the petite creature that fit inside Ellie's dress… well, I'd just be fucking concerned for her, OK. A man can fuck a woman and have it mean nothing, but when a woman fucks a man she is laying down trust, she is placing her body into stronger hands and toying with her man's inherent anxiety over her well being. And that double sucks!

This epiphany became my excuse to start thinking about a threesome again. And to be clear: a threesome with another woman! Ellie couldn't possibly feel the same way about having a girl join us as I did about some dude. And I knew she'd never actually bring a guy home. I was safe there. So fuck it, I'd find us a chick. I'd actually do it. I had no idea how I'd do it, but she had given permission, hadn't she? And once it started to happen for real, I knew she wouldn't chicken out or let on that she was in anyway jealous. She'd play along right up until she actually enjoyed it, and then it wouldn't be playing anymore, would it? She'd see there was nothing to be jealous of and we'd end up having one wild ass time.

The following week I went with Ellie to an early preshow party her actor friends in the Popular Cabal were having. The show happened to be the one she had bought the ticket for, the one her friend Rico was in. Most of the Cabal were this tight knit group who'd met in Mimi's, the after school theater workshop she'd attended in her teens. Over the few years I'd known them, I'd learned they were a rather incestuous bunch of buddies. And I'd been informed that when the group was still active the kids were allowed to pick the plays, and even though the couple running the program had toned them down, they were still performing shit like Grease, Romeo and Juliet, and Kiss me, Kate. It sounded like everyone had kissed everyone else as part of a performance at one time or other, and the performances generally didn't end when the curtain came down. I guess life on the stage was more exciting, and that's how they wanted it all the time, so off stage it amounted to some serious teenage hanky-panky, and they still talked about that shit some ten years later.

As I looked around the party I wondered who of her friends Ellie had dated, or maybe fucked. The very thought of it was pretty sickening. After the very first party Ellie had dragged me to, I kept imitating them, saying things like 'scandalous' with a heavy lisp. The guy's were all pretty boys who could participate in long chattering conversations with girls, and as far as I knew, only this guy Herbert was actually gay, the rest had no excuse.

Herbert was a smaller guy and was wearing a mustard blazer, black shirt and a white tie, and hair gelled heavily with a superman curl dangling over his forehead. I spoke to him more than anyone else that evening because he was the only one who seemed comfortable with me. Plus, he was a good person to pry information out of, and there were a couple of girls who I didn't know, but wanted to. Prime candidates for the third player on my team, I might say.

"Pete, Pete, Pete," Herbert sang, "why do you keep Ellie all to yourself? She never comes to our parties anymore."

"I'm not her keeper," I said to Hubert, then blamed her job, saying, "She's just been working late hours,"

I was pretty sure Ellie actually missed spending more time with her friends, and she'd become the least active member in the Popular Cabal, missing one entire production completely. But if she used to behave anything like Hailey around them, then I could see where things might have become tricky after getting married. Even as I was talking to Hubert, I could see where Ellie and Hailey were laughing with several of the guys, and one of them was describing how bad the love scene from some Heather Graham film had been. He pulled Hailey in and they both fell right into character.

Hailey had on a shear cream colored dress, sort of twenties style that hung straight down and ended mid thigh, and it did little to smooth over her nipples. It was an excellent look for her, and her short evenly chopped hair completed the effect. It was a shame she wasn't famous, because she would have made a great movie star.

The guy's hands were close to her tits, with the dress's extremely light fabric bucking gently as he gripped her side. They were kissing deeply, and yeah, they were friends goofing on a film, but still, it was weird.