Is This a Rollercoaster Ride?

She smiled slightly, "I know that. I did not mean I thought you were out to steal Jackson, It just feels weird."

I slowly nodded, "I would be angry if I were you."

She looked down and played with the teacup in her hand then placed it on the table. She placed a hand on my knee and shook it gently, "You are a hard person to stay angry at, sister, but you owe me and it better not happen again."

"It won't and I don't know how to pay you back, but I will. It might take awhile. Maybe when I am filthy rich I will be the patron who rescues you from your struggling artist life."

"Patronizing bitch," she said, but with a laugh and hugged me. I leaned into it, but it turned into a headlock. Thankfully my teacup was empty as I instinctively startled. "Still my bestie, but you owe me. Oh, and one more thing, do you want to tell Jackson, or should I?"

I gagged, "What? No way; you can't; you won't; you wouldn't."

She let go and turned to face me. "If you won't, I will. Not because I want to be a jerk; well, maybe a little because I want to be a jerk, but mainly because he deserves to know. I was not the only one whose privacy was trampled on by your lust."

"But he'll hate me. It was such a shitty thing to do and he does not know me well enough. He might think that is really me." Claire just stared at me, head cocked slightly to one side. I slowly nodded assent. "And, yeah, maybe I should have thought of that before I perved on you."

"Yeah, maybe so. For what it is worth, he knows you better than you think he does. The three of us hung out quite a bit, and you do come up in conversation between the two of us."

I looked at her alarmed, "Okay, now who is being creepy."

Claire threw her head back in a hearty laugh. "No, I don't mean I give him regular Mia updates, but you are my best friend and he knows it. Also, I am not going to try to get him to hate you, but it is only fair he knows. Do you want to tell him or should I?"

I really thought about it. Jackson was a truly nice guy. He always worked hard to not make me feel like a third wheel and was so good to Claire. What would he want and what would he do? "I think you should tell him. If I told him and you were not there, it would be hard not to make it sound like some weird come on. If we were together, he might not be able to vent or be honest, because he would not want to upset me and maybe not want to upset your best friend."

Claire nodded. "Yeah, makes sense. That was still totally fucked up."

I got up and gathered cups and teapot, still in its little cozy. "Yeah, it was, and I am sorry." I stopped and turned to meet her eyes. I know this is not over. Let me know if there is anything else I can do. I know I owe you."

I got up a little before five as I was well behind on my work. I made some of Claire's tea and filled my travel mug, leaving the rest of the pot in the tea cozy, and slipped out of the apartment without waking Claire. I saw her briefly that evening before she went on a date with Jackson, and things were okay, but not really okay. Claire did not seem angry and it was not like a storm threatened us. It felt more like the lawn you love to run barefoot on suddenly had broken glass on it. Each step felt normal, but there was a sense of relief that no glass had sliced into your foot, and each next step was taken with caution and anxiety.

I made dinner for both of us, nothing fancy and not so much meant as an apology, but as an acknowledgement that I still owed her. We talked about everyday stuff and resolutely ignored the elephant in the room. I was terrified of how Jackson would react and whether he would shift Claire's feelings about the awful thing I had done. Maybe she would come home angry again. As Claire prepared for her date in the loft, I stayed downstairs cleaning up dinner. She came down carrying her shoes and sat on the couch to put them on. Such was one of the inconveniences of having a loft with a ladder.

I looked at her as she laced up her boots. She looked good in a red and black flannel dress flowing down just past her knees and a wide black belt. She always said Jackson liked skirts and dresses. She had only a little make-up, neither of us were that into it, but she had sharpened what she would call her chipmunk cheekbones, although I thought her heart shaped face was prettier than my sharp, almost angular cheekbones. Her blonde hair was in a French braid. She cleaned up well. I wondered when the last time I had cleaned up for anything other than a visit home to my parents.

She got up and went for her coat. I wanted to at least ask if she would be home tonight, but the words did not come. We briefly said goodbye and I was alone. Heavy metal and biochemistry wiped out the outside world until about 11:30 PM. I went to bed only to wake at seven to an empty apartment. I rolled out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt and jeans. I sat in the one comfy chair we had in the loft to brush out my hair. I love my hair, it is my one vanity I still display, but it takes time to care for. Braided it comes to the middle of my back. I undid the braid with a practiced hand and brushed out my hair until it flowed, long and a deep rich black, almost to my waist. Boys in high school had loved my hair and I miss the feeling of others brushing it. I contemplate cutting it sometimes, but hair this length does not grow back fast.

Soon I was ready to go left for the lab. Well, unlike now, it was not my lab. I was just an undergrad research assistant. I liked the work and I liked the professor. Dr. Rosen was quite famous, but in person he was very approachable. I was very comfortable calling him Ben and we had built quite a bond over the six months I had been working there. In fact, I was the only undergrad he had ever entrusted with a key. He was a lean, fit, confident and kind fifty. I absolutely had had wondering fantasies, but neither of us wanted anything. He was happily married and I, having been to his house quite a few times, loved his wife and kids.

Ben would not be there. Lead researchers usually get their Saturday's off. Instead, I was meeting Carl at 8:30, a graduate student and a good guy. He asked me out in October, and I was a little tempted. However, what I liked most about him was how he did not make it awkward or strange when I said no. Carl was there already when I arrived and we quickly fell into the comfortable routine of a job done by people who know it well and who are courteous and kind. The work was careful and methodical, requiring a lot of focus and coordination, so time flew by. Without stopping for lunch, we worked until a little after two. Then, I headed back home and I knew that every step I took through the Manhattan streets brought me closer to dealing with the mess I had made. The science had sheltered me for awhile, but now, it was back to reality.

Although the February sun was still up, the sun is often hiding behind buildings during a Manhattan winter, so despite the clear sky it still felt like a dreary walk home. I arrived at the apartment, not expecting Claire, as she had a shift at the bar from noon until 7 or so. However, when I got to the loft to start my work, there was a note sitting on my little desk. "Talked to Jackson; I will tell you the details when I get home." Really Claire? That is it? Frustrated I threw the note out and threw myself into work. At 6:30 my body reminded me that food is an essential part of life and I had not eaten all day. I went down and, after eating an orange, cooked again for both of us, just cheap instant ramen with some vegetables and chicken added. I had started cooking far too early, although soup is easy to keep warm, so I ran out of things to do; foolishly I let my anxiety sweep over me.

She came in a little before 7:30. Her bartender outfit was a white blouse, black vest and skirt, and very comfy shoes. She looked tired. We small-talked our way through dinner, and I felt that the grassy field had a bit less glass scattered about. I reasoned that it could not have gone too badly last night with Jackson if she is exchanging pleasantries with me. As we cleared the table, she asked if I wanted wine.

"Yes, I think I could use it, " I said with a soft smile, although I was thinking that I was GOING to really need it. "Want to drink in the loft?"

She nodded and I went up the ladder. Carrying a wine glass up a ladder is none too easy, so after Claire poured, she came to the foot of the ladder. I reached down; she reached up; wine glasses arrived in the loft. After putting her glass on the end table near her bed, I sat in the one chair in the loft. It was an oversized and overstuffed easy chair that I loved to curl up into with a good book. The chair sat next to my desk, where I placed my glass.

Claire climbed up, slipped out of the vest, and, after sitting on her bed, carefully untied her shoes. Putting her feet up, slowly she took a sip of wine. I waited. I still waited. Finally, "Claire, you're killing me," I blurted out.

She smiled, "I know; I am sorry, at least a little bit sorry, but I'm not trying to torture you. I just don't know how to start."

I debated in my head if she was truly doing this on purpose, as some kind of petty revenge, albeit revenge I earned, "Well, just tell me what he said."

"At first he was a bit weirded out, but I talked him past that. We drifted to other topics, but another idea started kicking around in my head, so I asked him what he thought of you. He said that he thought you both sweet and kind, so he was shocked by what you had done. I laughed and asked him how it feels to know two cute girls were admiring him. He returned the laugh and agreed. Now he did not come right out and say it, but he thinks you are pretty damn gorgeous."

I was confused and flustered. "Claire, why did that even come up and where are you going with this?"

She looked me in the eye and said calmly and firmly, "You are going to help me with Jackson's Valentine's Day present." I started to object, but Claire put out a finger of warning, "You owe me; at least do me the courtesy of hearing me out. Jackson has been loyal and wonderful, but I know he liked variety before we started dating. I wanted to give him that, but I cannot afford a stripper." She pointed her finger at me, "I want you to strip for us."

"Wait, what? That is a bit overboard," I protested.

"Really? Seriously?" Seems like a fair trade. You got to enjoy Jackson naked, so he gets to enjoy you naked. Am I missing something?"

I nodded reluctantly seeing the logic, "But I don't know if I could do that. I mean, what do you want me to do?"

"First, I don't want you to feel assaulted. I think it's fair, but if you flat out won't do it, I will figure something else out. However, it is a fair trade, and if you start and chicken out, then you can just stop."

"Okay, well, that helps a little, but what do you want me to do?"

"Find a nice outfit, with a beautiful skirt with a hot piece of lingerie underneath. Take it off nice and slow in front of Jackson and me, and then finish by masturbating with a dildo. Do that, and I call us even."

I shook my head, "I don't even own a dildo, and, no, I am not using yours." Claire had a dildo which she used when she masturbated. It was far larger than anything I wanted, not to mention the skeev factor, and the fact that I was being asked to insert a dildo in front of an audience.

"You have a week and a half; find one." She was in full argument mode, skeet shooting my objections like so many clay pigeons while sitting, knees up on her bed, looking quietly confident.

I sighed, "I would point out that I don't own any lingerie, but I think I know your answer Claire, this is crazy. I have never done anything like this before."

She shrugged. "First time for everything; bet you never spied on someone having sex before this week either, right?"

I did owe them, and just maybe I had some negotiating room to get something I want. I had seen Jackson, and he was gorgeous. "So, if I did this, what would I do when I was done? Just leave or do I stay with you both?

Her face squirreled up a bit in thought. "Stay? Like how?"

I hesitated, nervous, but if I could. A chance to have sex with a safe man without having to waste all that time trying to build a relationship? That could work, maybe, were I not to back out. I thought I would feel safe with them both, but would I really know until I did it? I thought back to my first and last roller coaster ride. As I waited on that long line, I convinced myself I could handle it, and ....well, I could not handle it. If I was not strapped in, I might have jumped out as it started up. I totally panicked. "Well, maybe, you know, touch him too? I mean if you were okay with it and with you there and all.

"Mia, are you saying you want a threesome with me and my boyfriend?" She laughed, "You go four years without sex and you want to jump back in with a threesome? That is deep-ending for sure!!!" She stopped and thought for a minute. "Well, I am sure Jackson would love it. Could I handle it?" She repeated it again almost as a whisper, "Could I handle it? Maybe, I could. Maybe that would be fun."

I looked at Claire, knees up on the bed. Her skirt had slipped down and bunched up a bit around her thighs and there was a tiny patch of powder blue panties showing. I had never really thought about being in bed with another woman. What would it be like? I saw naked together, with Jackson in between. I felt my hand around his shaft as Claire was massaging his balls. It certainly did not repulse me, and maybe it turned me on a bit.

Claire looked at me with curious eyes. I met her gaze, " Yeah, maybe I am saying I want to try a threesome, maybe. I mean, I don't want to be a threat, but Jackson is so besotted with you that I could not be a threat if I wanted to, and, Mia, I would love to have some kind of sex again, but without all the other baggage. Maybe just three friends having a good time?"

She smiled, "I don't think you would try to steal him from me. I trust you more than that, even after spying on me. I kind of want to try, but I am scared I will not respond well when it really happens."

I nodded slowly. "I was thinking the exact same thing. So are we really going to explore this?"

She straightened her skirt (part of me regretted losing sight of those panties) and nodded firmly. "Yes, but you owe me that show first, dildo, lingerie and all."

I looked down and frowned. "Okay, deal, but, to be honest we might not even make it past me undressing. I do want to try this, but I am scared, and I might be terrified when I actually try it."

Claire crossed her legs, skirt dropping into the hollow of her lap, "And I might get jealous as hell, but I want to try it. First, I think we should try it right here. I think we will both feel more comfortable."

I looked at the two full beds we had. "Maybe push our beds together? But I think we need a way to end it if we need to. I could just leave. You need to say something, because you cannot walk away leaving Jackson behind."

"But it would feel weird for me to end his gift."

"Claire, so you say something positive, a line we agree on, and then I will pretend to chicken out. Say something like, "This is perfect."

"Good plan, and I think that phrase is a good one to use. We could have the two beds over here, she indicated the side of the loft opposite from the ladder. Maybe Jackson and I could be in bed waiting for you. That way he will not know what the surprise is. Then you come in and come up to the loft and do your thing, and then we go from there."

"Okay and I can put my desk and chair at the end of the bed, because I might need to sit down while undressing and I have a place to put things down."

Claire laughed a nervous laugh, "We're really doing this, aren't we?"

I mirrored her nervous laugh, "Yeah, at least we will try, but if one of us backs down, no hard feelings."

I instinctively got up and gave her a hug. As I hugged her I thought again of us in bed together with Jackson. A week and a half; would I be patiently passing time waiting in my seat for a long awaited concert to start or was I waiting in line for a roller coaster?

***********************************************

I still had a problem to solve. I needed a dildo and lingerie. I had no idea where to get either, but I thought I might know where to get a clue. On my way to school on Monday I picked up a copy of a local weekly newspaper known for its excellent coverage of the local music scene, but also known for very race classifieds in the back pages. I had an hour between classes and I scoured the ads for anything that might help. Most of the ads were certainly not what I was looking for, but one stood out. "Sky's the Limit!!" The adult store you are not embarrassed to enter. "Women only" hours every Saturday from 10 AM to Noon." The address was not too long a detour from my walk home from school. It was only Monday, so I would have to be patient, and if Saturday did not work, I would have almost time left.

I needed to know for sure the hours were correct, so I dropped a quarter in a secluded pay phone and called the next day from a quiet public park. "Sky's the Limit," a woman answered with a distinct Chinese accent. My Mandarin is not great, but it is passable.

I could take middle school classes in Mandarin and be okay; on a whim I answered in Mandarin, "Hi, do you have women only hours only on Saturday?".

She laughed with pleasure and answered in Mandarin also, "Yes, yes, yes, only Saturday. What do you want to buy?"

My Mandarin was at a middle school level; dildo and lingerie was not in my vocabulary, so I switched to English, but saying the words came out more as a mutter and a mumble. "Oh speak up," she laughed, speaking in Mandarin, "Or are you standing near your mother? Don't be shy, what do you need?"

I gave a nervous laugh myself. "A dildo and some lingerie."

" You are new to this I see. Come at 9. I will open early just for you."

"Thank you so much. How...how much do you think it will cost?"

"Maybe $50, maybe $200. Bring what you can spend and we will find you the best thing we can for that price. I like a daring girl like you, so we will find a good deal. Come at nine. The sign will say closed, but the door will be open. Say hello when you walk in."

The rest of the week passed slowly. Academically I did fine, and far better than most, but Ben commented that my lab work was still exceptional, but not up to par and he was concerned. I told him it was nothing serious, but I had real life on my mind. He laughed and said it was good to hear I had a real life.

Saturday came, cold and dreary. I had rescheduled my lab hours for the afternoon and headed to the shop. You could not see much from the outside. . Nondescript storefront with some lingerie, toys and magazines with covered front pictures in the windows and no view beyond the window decorations. As promised, the sign said closed, but the door was open and I went in, shouting in Mandarin a hello. "Come on in the back," a voice, the voice from the telephone, yelled. The front was mostly magazines and the middle were toys. I recognized dildos, but there many things had mysterious functions. The back had clothing, a lot of black leather, but also more typical and feminine lingerie. She was standing at the back counter folding underwear. She stopped as I walked up, and she looked me over with a critical eye. "Hmm, do you want innocence, slutty, or somewhere in between?"

The woman was almost as old as my grandmother, and it was disconcerting listening to her. She had spoken in Mandarin and I was not sure what she meant. "I am sorry," I said in English, "my Mandarin is not all that good. What did you say?"

"Slutty, innocent or somewhere in between?"