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She laughed. "No, I think you have that wrong. We knew each other the moment we sat down together: alone, lost, resigned and horny. She's an exciting woman, she puts off a vibe ..."

"That scares people."

She laughed again. "A bi is someone who is attracted to both sexes. I'm a bi, I figured that out a long time ago — not that I've done much about it. I thought I knew she is bi, too, not gay, bi, I don't know why I felt that about her but I did; the more I talked to her the stronger I felt it."

She turned again, this time fully around so she was facing me with her legs crossed. "You want a confession, I'll give you a confession: I'm a bi who doesn't like sleeping with men. I'm a bi who doesn't like sleeping with women. I'm a bi who wants exactly what Erica wants."

"And what's that? I can't wait to know."

"Layers and layers and layers of delicious interpersonal complexity ... and not being in control of any of them. I won't be in control, she won't be in control and you won't — none of us will be: that's the beauty of three over two."

"I'll have to think about that; doesn't sound like her — sex has to be one of the layers; she's always in control of that."

"Maybe she was but she isn't any more and she doesn't want to be. She wants to be free to do her thing, not to conform to your expectations or anyone else's and that's the way I feel."

"Then why did she marry me?"

She got to her feet, smiling. "For a thousand reasons, all of them entirely heterosexually valid, it's the thousand and one you should be thinking about."

"Whats that?"

"Me."

I thought just about her for the next half hour, sifting through what I knew, which wasn't much, then speculating. When we stopped again, this time at a picnic table beside a wonderfully picturesque lake, I outlined to her what I thought I knew about her then prodded her for more.

She got very philosophical. You have to fight sameness; you have to seek uniqueness; you have to want to be different; you have to spurn resistance — all news to me. I had never done any of that, quite the contrary, I have spent my life to date trying to fit in — you do that when you're born an outcast.

But I listened, and wondered where she was going with her words.

"It was that damn marriage — I got it all, everything all of us ever want, then immediately realized I didn't want any of it ... any of what everyone else wants, what all my friends wanted, so, obviously, I came to the inescapable conclusion: I didn't not want the life but I didn't want it either ... so what did I want? I wanted to be left alone and what better way to be alone than being an actuary? So I studied and became one ... I was good at math. So I was alone, with a job I liked and a few interests and with each passing day, I just became more me, it was like I was encasing myself in some kind of impervious membrane — it's what happens when you aren't among the push and pull of the crowd."

"No relationships?"

"A few fleeting trysts... that were more alienating then anything; they just made me feel more alone."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Don't seek what you want, you may find it."

"So what's the push and pull of intimacy? I'm still not getting that."

"My motives are entirely selfish, I admit that, I admitted that to Erica. I can be coopting your emotions; coopting your warmth; coopting your familiarity and, to a degree, coopting your space, your lifestyle, your interest, your life together ..."

"And what? In return you give us your body?"

"I hope a lot more than that but, ya ... I know I'm not in a very strong bargaining position here but maybe that's what it's all about for me: I'm giving myself to you, I'm opening myself up as much as I can; I'm opening myself up to the ebb and flow of life, to new vulnerability, but I'm doing so like a coward ... with two people who, it feels to me, have figured it out, who have created a trail I'm prepared to walk, a trail fraught with uncertainties and maybe even danger but I'm on it, I'm committed to it and it feels wonderful, it feels absolutely wonderful. I'm finally myself, for better or for worse."

"Isn't that marriage?" I laughed.

"I suppose, in a way, but without the responsibility; I can run away and hide when I want to."

"Then you aren't committing."

She seemed to slump at this; the words kind of got to her. "That's the whole thing in a nutshell, isn't it? Intellectually I get it, emotionally, not so much ... no you're right. It's all about the commitment, that's the thing that scares me: can I commit?"

"I'm going to take a shower," she said, the moment we got inside her condo.

I busied myself poking around, looking at the few pictures, the art on the wall, the books, the CDs, all the things that offer some clues about the personality and life of the owner.

"I thought you were supposed to come in and see me in the bathtub," she called out.

I took this as permission and went in. She was lying languidly in the tub, her wet hair flat against her head; a few clusters of soapy bubbles looked like little islands on a calm sea.

"The water's great, come on in."

I noticed for the first time that when she is serious her face is exceedingly pretty but it becomes beautiful when she smiles — it's a bright, welcoming smile that seems to reveal another side of her, a childlike side that contrasted dramatically with the stern, sensible adult severity. I made a note of this while I quickly took off my clothes.

I surprised her by not getting in to face her but squeezing in behind her — I wanted my hands on her breasts. She laughed when she figured it out and lay back against me.

"Do bi women fantasize about having sex with women, I've been wondering?"

"Of course. Do you mean, do bi women fantasize about having sex with women in the same way as they fantasize about having sex with men? Ya, I think, pretty much."

"Did you fantasize about having sex with Erica ... before this arrangement?"

"The first time I met her, sure, of course I did, she has an amazing body and if you can get by her mood, not always easy, I agree, it's pretty exciting being with her, even if its only in your head."

"So what do you want out of this ... we've talked around it, you've never actually said."

"That's not true, I said at the very beginning I want intimacy with a couple."

"Ya, but then you said you didn't want to be with a man or with a woman ..."

"That I wanted to be with a couple..."

"Meaning you don't want to have sex with me here, in your place, without Erica here."

"We have Erica's approval, even encouragement, if I didn't have that it wouldn't interest me at all."

"Because ..."

"Because it would be sex, not intimacy — I'm the third party here, I have to work to earn your trust, your affection, your everything else, in return I get to be with two really neat people who have created something great together — I want to be involved in that ... I can't explain it very well because it's so odd, I admit that. But to me it's not complicated. You have each other, I want in and I'll give you both sex and service and anything else I can offer to get there: I want a big change in my life, this would be great. What I want is you both but what I want most is for your ability to love to wear off on me."

"What do you mean by service?"

"Erica is going to be tied up big time for the next two years ..." she could sense I was about to jump all over that so she squeezed my hand, "ah, it's not just that, it's not just me having sex with you because she hasn't got the time and doesn't want you to stray, it's all of it: she's told me where you two want to go and she's asked me if I want to go there with you. I said yes."

"When did she say that to you?"

"Last Tuesday, in my car in the parking lot under the building."

"Did you have sex in the car?"

"We brought each other off, she asked me after we finished ... it all depended on you of course but we covered that last night. Or did we?" She strained to look back at me but I gripped her tits so she couldn't.

"So, you're going to be there to help look after the babies."

"Can't wait."

"Really?"

"She told me where you guys want to go, I signed on, I don't expect this to be easy, it's going to be a challenge, I want that challenge. There's going to be a time when you let me go but I'll have been a part of something terrific and maybe I still will be when it's over, just not an active part."

I didn't know her at all but I thought I knew Erica a little and I could feel that this was very much in character.

"I loved today, Mike, waking up with you, being with you, the walk, this."

"It's weird, though, admit that."

"I admit it should feel weird, but it doesn't to me. It feels right for me ... actually it feels much more than that: I'm excited for the first time since I can remember, truly excited."

"About?"

"I'm not alone and I have to start caring for someone other than just me. I'm boring, Mike, I've always been boring ... I'm an actuary for goodness sake." She chuckled.

"So is Erica expecting us to have sex?"

"It's a troika, we never have to second guess ourselves."

"I'll take that as a yes."

So did she.

I first noticed it when we got to her place this morning when I was sitting on her bed watching her change into her hiking gear. Well, I noticed a lot of things: breasts, shape, big pubic patch, tone, tan but I noticed something else, or rather I felt it, on my ass. The mattress. It felt amazing, so amazing it was disorienting, I couldn't quite relate what my ass was feeling so, with other things on my mind, I forgot about it.

And I had other things on my mind now, too but I was lying on the mattress this time and getting its full impact. She was standing naked — I had just towelled her off. She was looking down on me.

"What is this thing?"

"What thing?"

"This mattress."

"It's a mattress."

"Not like any I've ever felt before."

She crawled onto it, her breasts swaying wonderfully, one nipple actually brushing my erection. "I can have back issues; it was recommended by a doctor; it cost a fortune but I think it's worth it."

"Jeez, no kidding." As she settled in beside me I looked around the room, feeling its femininity. "I think I could get an orgasm just lying in here."

"It's the colours. I tried to do it up like a boudoir."

"Feels like you got it right."

She turned, placing a leg over mind. I was surprised but the age thing was a turn-on for me from the get-go ... well, no, I wasn't surprised.

She was reading my mind. "Do you really have mummy fantasies?" She kissed me, I could tell she was intrigued.

"Not like Billy Mathews did. I didn't know my mother; she was always a fiction but I knew his. She wasn't very good looking but she had a nice body which she used to tease us with, show a lot of cleavage; there was always a bra strap showing. She always had her underwear hanging up on the line in the back yard; it was always sexy stuff. I think she was trying to drive the guy nuts and I think she succeeded. He talked all the time about wanting to fuck his mum, I didn't blame him, I wanted to, too."

"Did you think he ever did?"

"I think he would have tried."

"But she wouldn't let him?"

I had thought a lot about this over the years. "If he persisted she would have, so, ya, I think they had sex, maybe a lot of it because he was the type to persist. I kind of envied the guy for awhile. His mum was hot, not very pretty but hot."

"Did you have any other friends ... who wanted to have sex with their mothers?"

I laughed. "They probably all did but nobody else mentioned it to me, I would have remembered."

"So what was your fantasy?"

"Being loved, I guess. She was always gentle with me, understanding ..."

"Willing?"

I gave both nipples a kiss and a lick then I slowly slid my tongue down her body as I nestled between her legs. She is beautiful down here; she may have a bad back but the rest of her is perfect. I kissed, licked then sucked as she opened for me — I was in no hurry, nor was she.

Her hands were in my hair, she was massaging my scalp with her finger tips. "How do you really feel about this arrangement? You haven't said."

I looked up past her pubic hair. "Honestly, I don't know ... it's going to take awhile. I think you're great but I don't know what to think of Erica. I've known from Minute One that she's different. What concerns me about this is that she just made the decision without talking to me about it. What's the next one?"

"But it doesn't surprise you."

"Nothing surprises me about her." I pressed my face into her hair, still a bit damp from the bath. "You know I'm going to ask you about her, what you know about her, I'm just trying to find the right moment."

"We didn't really talk about anything like this. She's a good questioner — pushy. She asked me a lot of questions; I was honest with her — she knew me pretty well. I liked it, I liked opening up to her a lot: she may be the only person I ever really opened up to. She made me feel like she was interested in me. I trusted her. But it was more than that. She's smart, I find that really sexy about her and I love her no bullshit approach to life. I found myself getting really turned on by her — almost from the beginning I thought about her when I masturbated and I started doing that a lot. She kind of awakened me."

I rested my head on her thigh and ran the tips of my fingers into her slit. "What did you fantasize about before you met her?"

"Women or men?"

"Men, first."

"I'll tell you but you have to promise me you'll never tell Erica, I'm not proud of it, it's horribly retro."

I grinned.

"Power behind the throne. It's me who made my man succeed. I was a puppeteer — I've had that fantasy since I first touched myself."

"I doubt the 20 somethings now would understand that; they want the throne, not stand behind it. What about women?"

"Sympathy, understanding — nothing about the future, all about the presence: that it's OK to be me. I need the reassurance and the only reassurance I apparently understand is sexual."

"You don't have any close friends?"

"I've never had close friends. I was built to be alone ... until the Kendall's came along ... for how long I have no idea."

"Do you trust Erica with this ... do you trust her motives?"

She let the question hang there like she wasn't sure of the answer. She was about to speak when I interrupted her. "I'm staying here tonight, you're going to our place. You haven't spent any time with Erica yet; the time, as they say, is neigh."

That changed the dynamics. She sat up, leaned forward, grabbed my leg and pulled me around as she lay down again. "I'm probably not very good at this, I haven't done much of it ... none of it for a few decades."

I pressed my face hard into the hot damp gully of her groin and went with the sensation. Ya, she wasn't very good at it, Erica was a whole lot better but she was doing it with enthusiasm and I loved her for it.

I watched her get dressed. "You really do have a fabulous body."

"I hope she thinks so ... I'm nervous."

"You've spent some time together."

"Furtively, in the car, not exactly on display. What do you think?" She was standing in simple white panties with her bra in her hand. "How is she going to react?"

She is surprisingly trimmed and toned for her age giving her an elegant look, one to admire and respect. Her body seemed in perfect sync with her emotions; this is a mother with a difference. "If she doesn't react ecstatically, what's all this about? Isn't that the point — she needs a woman?"

It was neat the way she put on her bra, far different than the way Erica does it; her face was pinched in concentration. She looked down and saw me looking at her. She dropped her hands down by her sides in a kind of helpless surrender; her bra was around her middle; her pretty face was clouded in doubt. "I thought the hard part would be winning you over."

"You've pretty much done that and you have nothing to worry about with her ... it's looking like if you really do want this you can have it."

She smiled and continued with her bra.

I did look through her drawers. Her sex toys, two of them, were in with her underwear which were pretty sensible looking as was the entire place — that was the word for it, sensible — organized, without frill, even without much imagination; it was easy to get the impression that the occupant isn't very sophisticated and not at all discerning. She lives reasonably comfortably but with no obvious excesses ... maybe the colour of her boudoir and the quality of her bed, they seemed to be the only touches of originality in the place.

But she Netflix. I was well into an action adventure when they quasi-burst through the door and in moments they were sitting on the couch on either side of me — it couldn't have gone well at home, there hadn't been enough time. But they were cheerful enough.

Erica gave me a peck on the cheek. "We missed you."

"That wasn't the point."

She pulled at my arm and struggled to get closer. "Come on, let's go. You're testing me ... I get that."

I resisted. "I'm not testing you ... we didn't just sign-up Marion for me, it was starting to feel like that."

"Good because when we signed her up, as you put it, it was feeling like she was just for me ..."

"You haven't spent any time with her ... that's why I stayed here."

"I've spent every minute with her, every minute for the last year ..."

"I don't understand that."

"I know you don't, you don't have to; all you have to know is that I want her in my life, in our lives."

"But not for sex?"

"For everything."

I turned to Marion. "Do you understand what's going on here?"

Erica tickled my stomach. "You don't have to understand, just accept it."

"But except what?"

My exasperation must have been obvious because she gave me a motherly kiss to calm me down. "Come on." She tugged at me.

I followed her to the bedroom where she crawled on the bed, lay down on the edge and propped her head up with her hand and waited expectantly. Marion came in behind me and got on the bed, on the other edge — the entire middle was there for me ... but then no, it wasn't. When I knelt in between them Marion pulled me to her gently but insistently — Erica always pulls me like she's angry. I crossed over her and made her move so I could occupy the edge and looked over her at Erica. She was wearing what could only be called a blissful look; I leaned up and kissed Marion on the lips, licked them a bit first to show a kind of lewd intimacy. All this did was to inspire Erica to slip her fingers down to start on the button of her jeans.

Is this what it's all about? She just likes to watch?

Erica's outward bliss turned to inward glow; she is going places but clearly doesn't want to be alone: she edges her way over to get closer to us, pressing in against Marion who slid her arm under Erica's neck and kissed her gently, encouragingly. It was hot ... sort of, more of a challenge in trying to figure out what Erica wanted. Then Marion sat up and struggled like I always do to take off her jeans, taking her underwear with them, something I never do with Erica, especially when they're yellow — Erica knows that and looked over at me vacantly, she was somewhere else. Where? I had no idea.

But it was her fingers that were getting her there. When Erica masturbates it looks effortless; she knows what she wants; she totally surrenders to her fingers. Honestly? I love the way she does it almost as much as she does. Sometimes, often on Sunday mornings, we'd revel in her self-pleasuring, me as much as her but I didn't know this look, this intensity; I didn't know where she was now but she wanted Marion there with her; she was pressing hard against her. When Marion brought her fingers down to help, Erica pushed them away like they were irritants.