Push Me Ch. 08

"Fucking snow," Moira grumbled as she glided effortlessly along the sidewalk heading to my car. Between her dancer's grace and the muffling blanket of snow, the stiletto heels on her red leather boots left no sound as they passed.

Glancing at her feet, I couldn't help but be taken back to the night I met her. So many things had changed since then. We'd both grown and found ourselves in new and empowering ways since our first encounter. Our relationship was the strongest it had ever been, but the image of her in grey and green, dancing without a care, silver medallion sandals flashing in the light, will never leave me.

"Remember when we thought this was cool?" I asked, pressing down firmly with my toes to hear the faint crunch. "I grew up with this shit. I should have known better than to sucker you into it." Neither of us were truly frustrated with the snow though. It was a key component of a precious memory for us, and it remained a thread weaving our lives together. For our first real date, I had filled a Chicago hotel room with white roses, because I wanted it to snow for her. Just last night, as the flakes had begun to fall, I turned off all the lights in our townhouse, stripped her gently, and then made love to her from behind standing in front of our large, second floor living room window, watching the snow dance under the streetlights.

"It's still cool when there's a wall between me and it," she said. "Now it's just fucking cold."

I chuckled as we climbed into my car. Getting one with remote ignition had been a quickly revealed necessity after we spent our first winter in Chicago. Nonetheless, I had been reluctant to let go of my BMW that held so many memories from the first part of our relationship. New car smell was a pale shadow under the light of memories of their faces in my rear view mirror.

"I'm so nervous," Moira sang as I pulled off my gloves.

"Why?"

"It feels like I'm about to meet a stranger who's very important to me. I don't know what to expect, but I know it's going to hit me hard."

"That makes sense," I told her, nodding along. "No regrets though, right?"

"Of course not! I'm thrilled this day is finally here. I'm just a little overwhelmed, and I don't think that's going to go away anytime soon." I put the car in gear and then reached over to lay my hand on her knee with a gentle squeeze. She pulled off a glove that matched her boots before resting her hand on mine.

Weather and traffic cooperated, and we arrived in the airport queue just as our guest informed Moira via text that she had claimed her luggage. Moira had no trouble spotting her in the crowd, despite the fact that they hadn't seen each other for five years. I gave her knee one last squeeze before I pulled into an open space.

Moira's door flew open and they ran the few steps between them, crashing together with a fierce embrace. Wordlessly, I put her luggage into the trunk of my car. When I closed the lid, her face was fixed on me over Moira's shoulder, eyes wide above a fragile smile. "Hi, Shelly."

Moira quickly herded her into the back of my car and joined her there. "Hi, Craig," Shelly offered once I was in the driver seat. As I pulled away, my rearview mirror showed Moira and Shelly with their hands clasped tightly together and their foreheads touching softly. The only sound on the drive home was the radio. Getting rid of my beamer suddenly seemed less detrimental.

Once I had Shelly's suitcase stowed in the guest room, they both suddenly remembered I existed. Shelly took two quick steps toward me, but pulled up short. She had just begun to lift her hands when she froze. "C'mere," I told her. She flung her arms around me, and I squeezed her tightly. A ragged breath shook her body. She released it slowly before she let go, heading straight back to Moira when she did. The tears began to flow from both of them as they held each other close.

When Moira told me a few months ago that she'd heard from Shelly, I was prepared for the worst; the explosive event that led to us parting company had seemed a dire portent at the time. Instead of tragic news, Moira received a seemingly heartfelt apology and a desperate plea to see two people who still mattered to her very much. Moira's reply was simply, "Like I wouldn't make you come see me as soon as possible."

After a few rounds with tissues, Moira gasped. "I'm being a bad host!" She took Shelly's hands in hers. "Are you hungry or thirsty? Craig's going to make an awesome dinner later, but we have plenty of snacks. I'm pretty hungry myself."

"That would be great," Shelly responded.

I brewed some coffee and produced a box of pastries while Moira and Shelly held hands on the square, lime green loveseat with a chrome frame that Moira insisted on having as soon as she saw it. "It reminds me of being a kid in Colombia. It's happy in a carefree way," she explained at the time. Moira and Shelly said very little. Instead, they communicated via facial expressions, grip strength, and possibly some form of telepathy.

When I placed a tray with coffee and a large white box on the table in front of them, Moira yanked off the ribbon holding the box closed and went straight for a black forest muffin. I pointed to a clamshell of puff pastry. "I recommend one of these," I said to Shelly as she leaned in with pursed, curious lips.

"Whoa, what are they?" she asked as she stirred her coffee.

"Sfogliatella. I found an Italian bakery," I told her.

"And a Japanese bakery. And a Polish bakery. And a Libyan bakery..." Moira interjected.

"Like you hate it when I bring home baklava," I retorted. Moira conceded my point with a scrunched nose and a loving smile split by the tip of her tongue.

"You still do that!" Shelly squealed suddenly as she hurled an accusatory finger at Moira. While we'd been talking, Moira had torn apart her muffin and begun to sort the pieces into three categories. She initially told me that she "hated it when all the good stuff was in one place." To safeguard against that, she'd developed her sorting process to ensure she knew when the disappointing bites were coming, and most importantly to guarantee her last bite was a good one.

"She almost cut me once for going on about it," I warned Shelly.

"Hey!" Moira jumped in to defend herself as Shelly guffawed, substandard initial muffin bite frozen halfway to her mouth. "I gave you ample warning that I was going to do exactly that. Actions have consequences, motherfucker." She smirked at me. Shelly and I collapsed in hysterics. Moira took the opportunity to kick both of us before finishing her muffin, during which she ignored our existence entirely. Fortunately, she'd already removed her boots.

As we ate and chatted, Shelly was resistant to talking about herself, instead demanding to know every detail of our lives. Moira showed her pictures and videos of her dancing, and plenty of pictures of Frost being the adorable kitten he had been and the handsome cat he had become. I showed her pictures of food I was proud of making, and some shots of us with some of the Bears players, including one of us with a player and his son, who'd won a technology fair with a prototype compiler for a new concept in a programming language specifically designed to handle mass data.

When we hit a lull, Shelly was spurred unwillingly into action by the silence. She stood slowly and turned to face both of us. "So, um, I ..." She rubbed her hands together as she stared at the floor, mouth working silently. Concerned terror showed its first warning signs on Moira's face.

"Shelly, you're freaking us both out. Sit down," I warned her.

"Oh, thank god," she gushed, quickly reversing course and settling smoothly onto the loveseat.

"What is it?" Moira asked, again taking her hands.

"I want to explain why I'm really here, or elaborate I guess. I swear I'm not gonna drop a bomb." Moira smiled, and I felt my shoulders relax. "I want to tell you why I wanted to come here, why I wanted to apologize, why I reached out after so long."

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "In the interest of full transparency, I really do regret what I did, but I don't regret my motivation." She turned to look directly at Moira. "I was so insanely in love with you. I don't know why I slow played it like it did. I guess I was afraid of scaring you off." Moira clutched her tightly.

She turned to me as they separated. "Also, if you'd gone along with the threesome thing, I think I would have been very content. I had accepted that you both cared about me, and I really cared about both of you, and still do. But the thought of losing Moira made me do something terrible. So I want to say that what I did was absolutely wrong, and I will never do anything like that ever again. I am so so sorry. I want you to know that not having you in my life was an appropriate punishment for what I did, and I'm lucky you're letting me off so easy."

Moira leaned forward to embrace her gently, and I slid across the empty space between us to join in. Tears exploded from all three of us as the weight of lost friends turned into the weight of lost years. "I don't care what he says," Moira began as the tears wound down. "You are forgiven and I want you back in our lives." She kissed Shelly on the cheek, wiping away a tear in the process.

"Sorry, Mo, but I need to hear it from him. Technically, though I know it impacted you, it was his life I interfered with." They both turned toward me, concern quickly suffusing Shelly's face. Moira was, however, glowing with joy. She knew what I was about to say.

"Shelly, I was never angry with you," I assured her. "You made my life better, and it blew up in your face. You've more than paid any conceivable price. The only reason we never reached out to you was because Moira was afraid it would just retraumatize you."

Shelly deflated completely with a sharp chuckle, slipping free from our grasp to slump against the loveseat. "She was right. That brings us to the other reason I'm here." She sighed heavily before she sat up and shook her head again. Something about it reminded me of the two of them sitting on the sofa in my condo in South Carolina, right before they had sex in front of me.

"I tried to move on. Met some new people, guys and girls, and every time we got close, I'd blow it up somehow, always thinking that it wasn't as good as my time with you two. I knew I was stuck in what we had, but I didn't know how to get out. I actually went to therapy for that, and for my whole older guys thing. Turns out it really fucked me up when I found an older guy that actually cared about me and I tried to screw him over." Her face fell, suddenly unable to meet my gaze.

I reached out to cup her chin gently. "Again, you actually tried to do something really nice for me, just really inconvenient in some ways. You've beaten yourself up enough for this. I have no ill-will toward you, and I never did. We're thrilled to have you back in our lives, to any degree. I hope that's the last time I have to say that. "

She sighed again, fragile hope clear in her eyes. "Me too." I took my turn to kiss her cheek, which put a little warmth back in them, and her eyes shone a little more brightly.

"So," she continued after a moment, "that's why I'm here. I need closure on this, but I really don't want to exclude you two from my life. I'm kinda stuck. I needed to see you to know if I could be around you without glomming onto you or feeling like you were holding me at arm's length."

"Well, Shelly, I promise I won't have sex with you tonight," I assured her. They both laughed.

"I dunno," Moira said, eyefucking Shelly from her messy pixie cut that was still the sunshine blonde we remembered, to her shimmering, kelly green shirt dress that clung to a body we also remembered well. We all laughed, but I saw a new telepathic message leap between them.

"I'll just have to stuff you at dinner so you're too drunk and full to do anything. If need be I'll sleep in front of Shelly's bedroom to defend her honor."

Their snickering cut off abruptly as Shelly jolted upright. "Oh, speaking of dinner, Moira said it was something awesome." She waggled an eyebrow. "Spill, what is it?"

"I'm making Fettuccine alfredo and beef tenderloin medallions with a balsamic and honey glaze. Oh and my garlic and toasted almond green beans. I even made the pasta. Plus plenty of good wine, of course, and my famous hazelnut mocha cheesecake."

"Oh, fuck, Shelly, homemade pasta is so good, and so is his alfredo sauce," Moira groaned.

"That sounds great, especially cheesecake, but not for a few hours, right?" Shelly sought.

"That's the plan," I confirmed.

"Then can I take a nap? I haven't exactly slept well since I tried to blow up your lives, and today has been especially draining, with the flight and emotional reunion and all."

"Of course, honey." Moira stood, pulling Shelly up with her and escorting her to the guest room. I headed to the bathroom attached to our bedroom to relieve myself and dress comfortably for cooking.

When I emerged into our bedroom, Moira was there waiting for me. She walked to me and put her arms around my waist. "I'm definitely feeling the nap vibe," she mumbled before yawning into my chest.

"I can get down with that. Pasta and cheesecake are already made so I have minimal dinner prep."

She pulled me to the bed with her grip on my shirt and we wriggled into place, face to face. That's how I knew she actually wanted to nap. When she wanted to fool around under a pretext, she came at me ass first.

I heard Shelly stirring about ninety minutes later, light sleeper than I am. I slipped free of Moira and went to the kitchen to start dinner. Shelly joined me a few minutes later, sitting on a stool at the bar that wrapped around the kitchen counter. She'd changed clothes, opting for blue and green plaid flannel pajama pants and a simple, grey long sleeve shirt. "I hope there's no dress code for dinner. I just felt a powerful need to try to relax."

"Fortunately, the dress code is cozy-comfy, so you're right in the sweet spot."

"Awesome. Mo still asleep?"

"Yup. Probably not for much longer though."

"I can't wait to try your cooking after five years of practice."

"Eh, basically I bought a pasta maker and learned to make Alfredo sauce." She laughed. I put on a playlist I liked for cooking at a low volume, and 90s dance music filled the kitchen from a speaker system in the ceiling as I started the mise en place for dinner.

"You still have no butt," she commented as I pulled a package of steak from the fridge.

"You shouldn't be staring at my butt," I offered, staying focused on my task list.

"That's my point. I tried to stare but there was just..." She sighed heavily. "Nothing." Her smirk greeted me when I turned to face her.

"Moira is head of the ass allocation department. You'll have to mention this grave injustice to her."

"Well, she certainly isn't giving up any of those cheeks. I bet they sound great when you really get them going though."

"Her dance classes have been the best thing that ever happened to me," I confirmed.

"Why's that?" Moira mumbled through a yawn as she wandered into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around one of Shelly's.

"These!" Shelly yelled, jumping to her feet. She slapped Moira on the ass, hard. A short, ruffled pink skirt, which was barely visible under a Bears hoodie that was technically mine, muted the blow. Moira only reacted by leaning into her and pressing their noses together. "Gonna have to do it harder than that," she delivered flatly. Her head ticked toward me. "He's way stronger than you."

Shelly turned a deconstructing gaze on me. "I don't think I ever tried to make good use of that. It was more fun to pretend he wasn't that strong."

"Oh, it's so fun. Upright orgasms with your feet off the ground really are like flying."

"OK," I interrupted loudly. "I have to pay attention to sharp things and fire now, so all horny talk will have to be done in another room."

Moira took the opportunity to smack Shelly's butt lightly before they abandoned me. Giggling and arm in arm, they turned toward the living room. "C'mon," Moira said, "I'll show you where flying sex made me kick a hole in the wall."

Banishing them to the living room while I cooked barely helped. I almost cut myself when I dropped a knife while I wondered what was happening, and I nearly burnt the steaks while I contemplated them naked on Moira's loveseat with their faces between each other thighs.

Moira and I had talked about the potential for Shelly to end up in our bed before Moira responded to her first email. Since she was going to be here for roughly three days, we agreed that nothing physical should happen on the first day. We decided time to adjust to her presence in our lives was a must before we considered expanding the paradigm of our relationship to incorporate her, although apparently a little ass play was exempt from our rules. We also weren't sure that Shelly would want that kind of contact with us. At the time we didn't know anything about what her life had become. We both cared for her a great deal, and we'd worried about her for years. We wanted her back in our lives in whatever way was comfortable for her. We also didn't want to risk a recurrence of what had driven us apart and lose Shelly forever.

I could see Moira bubbling with lust and affection every time she looked at Shelly though, and I was consciously resisting the urge to grab her by the hair, hold her against the wall, and yank her clothes off. Not because I wanted her, or not ONLY because I wanted her I suppose, but because I wanted to give her to Moira. She'd had no female lover since Shelly left our lives. She'd been candid about wanting to change that, but when I offered to help her find someone to scratch that itch, she expressed a sentiment to me that paralleled something Shelly said earlier. "It won't be as good."

As the pasta finished cooking in the sauce, I poured wine and lit the candles on the dining room table we rarely used, which made it suddenly obvious I'd cooked a romantic dinner for three. I distracted Frost with a little cream while I filled plates. The speed with which they appeared when I called them for dinner told me they'd kept their clothes on, or at least had been dressed again before I was done cooking. Flirty grins clued me in that someone had been kissed, fondled, or humped, despite our agreement. I trusted Moira, both her commitment to me and her promise to move slowly around Shelly, but I made a mental note she was likely barely holding on.

After the initial gush of praise for my efforts, which I accepted with due humility, we began to reminisce as we ate. It didn't take long to hear the parallels between our lives with Shelly and the things she'd done without us after we fell apart, including a threesome in Charleston inspired by pink champagne. She'd spent several frustrating years trying to recreate what we'd had with people who didn't hold the same emotional magnitude for her. She'd fallen asleep in many beds, but she was never happy waking up in them like she had been in ours.

Shelly's face brightened suddenly. "Of all the crazy and fun stuff we did, my favoriate memory is you coming into our apartment and yelling, 'Craig says it's OK if we fuck!'"

"Just couldn't wait, could you?" I shook my head at Moira, remembering our talk when we'd first discussed her sexuality and carnal interest in Shelly after we started dating,

"Hey, you said you were OK with it, and you've fucked her. You know how good it is. Why would I want to wait? Besides, I sent you pictures."

"Yes, I do, and yes, you did," I relented after a pause. Shelly stood and took a snappy bow with a subdued grin before facing away from the table, yanking her bottoms over her hips and waving her ass at us, white satin thong sparkling in the candlelight. Moira licked her lips before sucking down a huge gulp from her wine glass. I barely held back from slapping her cute little cheeks, but we would have been fucking her on that table in less than two minutes if I had.