A Bottle of Concha y Toro

I didn't think there were still neighborhoods like it, at least not in Philadelphia. It seemed like it belonged more in a quaint (and probably fictional) English country town than within the limits of the sixth largest city in the US. When the real estate agent showed us the house, I actually started swearing; even though it was at the very edge of my price range, and even though I could already tell maintenance was going to be a bear, I knew I didn't have a choice. If I had any doubts about that, Tim made it very clear: this was our new house, and I had to just suck it up and sign the mortgage.

That summer of 2019 was a hot one here in Philly, and the days leading up to the move had been a run of absolute scorchers, but by sheer good luck we were granted a blessedly cool reprieve that day. Still, I was pretty ragged after lugging the three hundredth box of Tim's books and toys up to the room he had claimed for himself, and so the knock at the door offered a welcome chance to rest. I came back down the steps, wiping sweat off my brow, and opened it to find a man, a woman, and a bottle of wine waiting for me. Their names, it transpired, were Jeff, Mel, and Concha y Toro respectively, and I happily invited the former two in to help me out with the latter. While I busied myself pouring the wine into mugs (the closest things to glasses I'd yet unpacked), they introduced themselves as my neighbors three doors down, and as the current heads of the neighborhood's unofficial welcoming committee.

"Apologies for the state of things," I said, feeling suddenly conscious of the sweat stains on my ratty old band shirt.

"Oh, please, our house looks like this half the time and we moved in six years ago," Mel said, taking a deep draught from the "#1 DAD" mug I'd handed her. She was a vivacious woman in her mid-thirties, with a colorful full sleeve tattoo down her left arm, tortoiseshell glasses, and wavy dirty blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun - the kind of person you can't help but like as soon as you meet them.

"I'm so glad this place sold - and to a family, no less," Jeff said. He was about the same age as his wife (exactly two weeks younger, I would later learn, and one year older than me), with permanent stubble and the build of a former athlete. He wore ragged jeans with a fitted t-shirt featuring Gritty, the mascot of the Flyers - and, interestingly, nail polish, in a sort of gunmetal grey. "How old is your son?"

"Tim's just turned eight last week," I said.

"Oh, cool," Jeff said. "Our youngest, Mason, turned eight in June."

"That's fantastic news!" I turned to call up the stairs. "Tim? Come meet the new neighbors, babe. They've got a kid your age."

"Be right down, Dad!" came the voice from upstairs.

"He must have found one of his book boxes," I explained. "He might be a while."

Mel laughed. It was a good laugh. "Well, don't worry, we're not going anywhere any time soon. If he's free later, tell him he's free to come by and meet Mason if he likes. No pressure."

"Of course, I'm sure he'd love to," I said. "By the way, Jeff, I like your nails."

"Oh, thank you!" he said, smiling warmly. "Our fourteen year old tells me this is the cool new look for men now."

"It definitely works," I said. "I might try it myself."

"Hell, Jay, where are my manners?" he asked. "Can I help with some of these boxes or anything?"

"Oh, no, please, I've got it," I said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. There's a..." I looked around at the scattered piles of numbered boxes. "There's a system."

"Well, you let us know if there's anything we can do to make you feel more welcome to the neighborhood," Mel said with a wink.

As I thanked them for the wine and the welcome and walked them out the door, the wink stuck with me. That night, lying in the dark on a mattress on the hardwood floor, I replayed it over and over in my mind. Each time I did it got saucier and saucier, and the emphasis on "anything" got stronger and stronger. Exhausted as I was, I couldn't sleep until I'd indulged in a few fantasies about what "anything" might entail. When I was done, I crashed out into unconsciousness so hard and so fast I didn't even let go of my dick.

* * *

Jeff, Mel, and their two kids became a regular feature of our lives as the weeks went on. When the school year started, it turned out that Mason and Tim, who'd already begun to hit it off, were in the same fourth grade class. After that, they became almost inseparable. Mason's older sibling, Kris, was 14 and looking for babysitting money, so when one Friday in late September Jeff texted to suggest that the three adults go out for dinner while Kris babysat the younger two, it seemed like an obvious win all around.

Jeff was going to come to the restaurant straight from work, so I walked over with Tim to pick up Mel. She came to the door looking stunning in a garnet red bodycon dress that hugged her many intriguing curves, and though I had by this point mostly switched my nocturnal thoughts away from fantasizing about the neighbors, I was immediately tongue-tied. I'm not sure if she noticed and decided to give me a moment or if it was just luck, but fortunately she greeted Tim first and sent him up to find Mason and Kris upstairs, and by the time she turned to me I had managed to compose myself again.

"Wow, Jay," she said. "You clean up nice." She brushed a hand against the sleeve of the old cashmere blazer I'd unearthed from the back of my closet.

"Thank you," I said. "I'm just amazed it still more or less fits. I found a receipt in the pocket from 2009."

She laughed. "Give me one second to make sure Kris has everything they need and I'll be right back." When she returned a moment later, I offered my arm almost without thinking. She put her arm in mine and we walked to the car.

I had suggested a restaurant I remembered fondly from when I was dating Tim's mom, and although it had been a long decade, I was pleased to discover that it was still around and still maintained the atmosphere I'd remembered - dignified, but not stuffy. We arrived before Jeff, so we headed to the table and ordered drinks while we waited for him.

"My goodness," she said, glancing over the menu. "A menu without chicken tenders on it? Feels like I haven't seen one of those since I was 25."

"It is a bit of a change of pace, isn't it?"

"A very pleasant one." She smiled at me, and for a moment I forgot I wasn't on a date. Then she caught sight of someone behind me and waved. I turned to see Jeff approaching. I'd never before seen him out of jeans, and in fact I still hadn't, but these weren't his usual well-worn and faded jeans. Rather, he'd put on a pair of tight-fitting dress jeans which he wore with a blazer over a turtleneck sweater that matched Mel's dress perfectly.

"Sorry I'm a bit late," he said, sliding into Mel's side of the semicircular booth and greeting her with a kiss. "I had to change out of my work clothes. Pretty sure the hard hat wouldn't meet the dress code."

We chatted over dinner, which was every bit as fantastic as I had remembered. I took the liberty of preening slightly as the others complimented me on my suggestion afterwards.

"It's so nice to just have adult company doing adult things," Jeff said.

Mel, who was not driving and therefore was several Manhattans into the evening, sniggered. "'Doing adult things', huh?"

"You're so drunk," he said, and she laughed and leaned her head back on his chest.

"It's definitely a change of pace," I agreed, not sure what to make of their little joke.

"So is this your first date spot?" Jeff asked. "It's a pretty good one if so."

I waved a hand dismissively. "I haven't really gotten around to dating again yet."

"Oh my God, fix that," Mel said. "You're too hot a commodity to be off the market."

"Kris is always available for babysitting, so you know," Jeff said. "They need the money."

"And Tim is welcome for a sleepover any time," Mel said. "Even on very short notice, if you know what I mean."

I laughed. "Thanks, but I'd have to meet someone first, and Tinder scares the shit out of me."

"Tell you what," Mel said. "I'll fix you up with someone. Guy or girl?"

I froze. I knew they were safe - I'd seen the rainbow flag flying in front of their house, and of course they had a queer kid themselves - but this wasn't something I'd planned on talking about just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," Jeff said.

"No, it's fine," I said. "I'm pretty sure I'm bi. Didn't realize until a few years ago and it hasn't really... been relevant, so to speak."

Jeff put his hand out for a high five. I returned it, but I must have looked confused.

"Same boat," he said. "Me and Mel got together in high school. She was the first person I ever really dated."

"He was my first too," Mel said. "Then somehow we made it through four years at different colleges, and... well, here we are."

"Anyway, neither of us really knew any queer people growing up, and, I don't know, I guess I had a mental block about the idea," Jeff continued. "Mel - and a lot of therapy - helped me realize I was closing off a part of myself. But of course I've never had a chance to actually... well, test the theory."

"That's what porn's for, babe," Mel said, patting him affectionately on the thigh.

I don't know why I said what I said next. It didn't even feel like me talking. Some part of my brain rebelled and, before I knew it, I'd asked the question: "Have you two ever considered opening up your marriage so you could experiment?"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt certain I'd crossed the unspoken line we'd been dancing around. I was ready to throw some cash on the table and run out of the restaurant right then and there. But Mel just looked up at Jeff's face with a wistful glance.

"Nah," she said. "I would have to be there. No fair you fooling around without me, right babe?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jeff said, and kissed the top of her head.

That was the end of that particular line of conversation. By unspoken agreement, we moved on to neighborhood gossip, work chat, and kid anecdotes until the check came. Jeff and I avoided a fight by agreeing to split it three ways, and we headed off back towards home, this time with Mel's arm in her husband's instead of mine as he walked her to his car. I followed behind, and as we walked up a short flight of stairs to leave the restaurant's dining room, I found myself at eye level with two incredible asses - Mel's perfect perky peach and Jeff's twin globes of firm muscle wrapped in tight denim. I had to actually look away, take a breath, and remind myself that these were my friends and neighbors. Each gave me a warm but definitely platonic parting hug when we got to the parking lot and I followed them in my own car as they drove off home.

But it seemed I wasn't the only one affected by the night's conversation. As I sat behind them at an otherwise deserted red light, I watched through their rear windshield as Mel's head dropped down to her husband's lap. His own head lolled back, and I sat frozen to my seat watching for a moment. They were either oblivious to or unbothered by the fact that my car was right behind them, and I could see the silhouette of Mel's head bobbing quickly and the car's reverse lights flashing for a moment as Jeff put it in park. My eyes were so completely transfixed that I have no idea how long the light was green before another car pulled up behind us and honked its horn. Mel lifted her head up, clearly laughing as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and Jeff scrambled to get the car back in gear.

* * *

I got a text from Mel the following morning: "Sorry if I got a little inapropes last night. Been a while since I downed three Manhattans in a night. Didn't mean to pry into super personal stuff."

"All good," I texted back. "I'm just glad we got to know each other better. You both have become important people in my life and I value your friendship. Hope you're drinking plenty of water today."

She heart-reacted my text, and I thought that was it. Then, nearly twenty minutes later, she texted again: "It really was a great time. We should do it again soon. Maybe have Kris babysit the boys at one house while we meet up at the other for beers and a movie?"

"Yeah," I replied, "I'd love that."

"Next Saturday?"

I was surprised - I didn't realize we'd been making concrete plans - but checked the calendar and saw it was clear. "That works for me!"

Another heart react. I thought for a moment, then decided to push my luck. "You know," I sent back, "the other day Kris mentioned that they'd be willing to handle both kids for an overnight alone if I'm okay with that. Maybe we could give them a chance to try it out while the grownups were just a few doors down."

"..." said my phone, as Mel started to type something back. Then that was gone. Another moment passed. Worried, I figured I should clarify. "I've got a guest room, and you two could be the first to use it. Consider it a vacation, 200 feet from home."

"lol," came the response, and then a moment later, "yeah, I'll check with Jeff but I think Kris is ready for that."

As I put the phone down, I realized my hand was shaking. That was the first moment I really, consciously knew it: I wanted to fuck my neighbors, both of them, at once. And while I was prepared to let that just be a fantasy and not to let it get in the way of our friendship, I found myself hoping that maybe they wanted the same thing.

* * *

The next week seemed interminable. I alternated between staring at the wall all day and throwing myself at my work to distract myself. I decided halfway through the week that I should stop getting myself off every night thinking about Mel and Jeff; half my brain said that this was to stop encouraging the fantasy and the other half said it was to make sure I would be ready to perform if anything happened. I started going for a run each evening and doing pushups every morning... you know, just in case.

We'd arranged that they'd supply the drinks and I'd pick the movie, and so I spent a lot of the week trying to figure out the horniest movie I could find that still maintained plausible deniability. I ultimately decided that both Call Me By Your Name and Magic Mike XXL were pushing my luck, and settled on The Shape of Water. Still, I made sure the other two were available for streaming... you know, just in case.

The rest of the week I spent cleaning, to Tim's evident annoyance. I made sure the guest room was spotless and that the bed had fresh linens. And, of course, I made sure to change the sheets on my own bed on Saturday morning, breaking out the really nice modal ones... you know, just in case.

* * *

I brought Tim over to their house around 6, and he immediately disappeared upstairs with Mason. Jeff was in the kitchen (in his usual jeans, but with a nice black and white ringer tee I hadn't seen him wear before) going over a sheet of instructions with Kris. They were nodding patiently as their father explained how exactly to use a telephone - I think I caught the faintest of eye rolls as Jeff instructed them in the finer points of the little-known art of ordering pizza - but I couldn't get a read on whether Jeff's obvious nervousness was just about leaving his babies alone for the night or whether it was something more than that.

Mel came down the stairs, wearing a long cardigan over a white sundress - a Schrödinger's outfit, perfectly unremarkable for a mom in her 30s having a casual night out with a friend, but the plunge of the asymmetric neckline and the hemline that landed just at mid-thigh subtly hinted at something more provocative. I still had no idea whether they had the same ideas about the evening that I did, but reminded myself yet again that I had to assume they didn't.

She greeted me with a hug and a smile before poking her head into the kitchen. "Okay, Kris, we're about ready to go. Phone fully charged, Mr Jay's number programmed in, and credit card on hand for pizza?"

"All set, Mom," Kris replied.

"Come on then, Jeff," she said, grabbing a small overnight bag. "Grab some beer and a bottle of wine and lets get out of here before you feel the need to change the smoke detector batteries again."

"And don't worry, Dad," Kris said. "I've got this. And also you're literally going to be three houses away."

"Okay, okay, point taken." Jeff sighed as he grabbed a twelve-pack from the fridge and another bottle of Concha y Toro off the counter. "Lead the way, Jay."

* * *

"That was really good," Mel said, as the credits rolled. "My only complaint is that Guillermo del Toro didn't show us the answer to the one question on everyone's mind: how that fish dick do?"

"Mel out here asking the real questions," I said.

"I'm just saying," she went on. "Don't get me wrong, that was hot, but I could have been down with an NC-17 cut."

I laughed, though I was feeling increasingly nervous. The movie had been easy enough, and I'd certainly enjoyed feeling the way Mel squirmed unconsciously in her seat during the sex scenes and the way she leaned across me to reach for the popcorn bowl. But now the movie was over, and if anything was going to happen tonight, someone was going to have to go out on a limb here, and I was pretty sure that someone was me.

"You know," I said, "I've been thinking about our conversation last week. About me getting back into dating, I mean."

"Yeah?" Jeff said.

"Truth is, I'm not ready for a serious romantic relationship right now," I went on. "I don't want Tim to get his hopes up, for one, and also I've still got some stuff I'm working through after the way things ended with his mom."

Jeff nodded. "That's legit."

"But it's not the whole story," Mel said.

"No," I agreed. "I'm not going to lie: I very much do want sex. It's been a minute, to say the least. But I don't want to, like, pick up random strangers, either. I want it to be with someone I can trust."

"I believe the kids today call that a 'friend with benefits,'" Jeff said.

"Exactly," I said. "Except it's hard enough just making friends as an adult single parent, much less broaching the subject of... something more."

"You made friends with us pretty quick," Mel said. "And if you asked, I'm sure anyone who was a real friend would never let the fact that you asked get in the way of the friendship. Worst case, they say they're flattered but don't think it's a good idea. And you never know... they might just say yes."

I took a deep breath. "Okay, then. I'm asking you."

"Which... which one of us?" Jeff said.

"Both," I replied. "Don't answer just yet. I'll go get us each another beer so you two can talk."

* * *

I was shaking like a leaf by the time I got to the kitchen, but I was relieved as well. I'd done the difficult part and everything that would come after that was out of my hands. They would say yes or they would say no. Either way, I'd taken the chance of asking, and I knew I wouldn't regret it no matter what came next.

I took my time getting the drinks, but even so I could hear a low murmur of conversation as I approached the living room door. I paused a moment longer to let them finish their discussion. When I heard Mel's unmistakable warm, bubbly laugh, I took a deep breath and continued through the doorway.

They didn't shy away from me, at least, didn't look at me like I'd grown a second head or anything. I handed each of them a bottle in awkward silence and sat down again next to Mel on the couch. Mel took a deep swig of her beer, then put it down carefully on a coaster. She took off her glasses, folded them, and placed them down on the table next to her beer before leaning back again. She paused for another long moment, then she took Jeff's hand with one hand and mine with the other.