Red Lace Trilogy

"Hey, wow, you look nice," Jack said. "How was the shower?"

"Oh," I said, feeling the quick internal hit of a bit too much blushing embarrassment. "Good. Yeah. It cooled me off, but, I was sweating again five minutes later."

"Yeah, it's brutal. We should probably be outside, but, better to smoke in here, and chill with the tunes. Hey, this is my brother, Joe. Joe, this is Jill, my nice neighbor I was telling you about."

"Yeah, across the hall, cool," Joe said, his voice and eyes already a bit stoned. "Cool neighbors are awesome. It's nice to meet you, Jill." He reached toward me without getting up, offering me a half smoked marijuana cigarette.

"Oh, wow," I said, surprising myself by reaching for it. "Don't be mad if I take, just, one hit, maybe. I'm more of a..." I held up my tall glass and made the ice cubes clatter.

"Cool, yeah, what are ya drinkin'?" asked Joe. I told him my faux sangria recipe, and he said, "Cool, yeah, I used to work at a place by the University; we made sangria in a big bucket. Sold gallons of the stuff. I got ripped on it, more than once. That shit sneaks up on you."

I took a puff of weed, the heat in my throat bringing back old memories. And then I was high. Just...like...that.

Jack and Joe smiled at my giggles. The weight of the world lifted, and floated away. Giggles remained. The room felt womb-like, so warm, the air so thick. I could taste the candle smoke in my mouth, and I laughed. "Okay, see? That's why I only take one puff. Jesus that's strong. Is that strong? What's this music? I love it."

"It's Phish. You've never heard them before?"

"No, but I've heard of them. Aren't they like, Grateful Dead, sorta kinda?"

"Yeah, a little bit. You like The Dead? We can play that if you want."

"No, I like this," I said, smiling. "It sounds happy."

I looked around at Jack's living room, definitely a bachelor pad. The big white couch dominated the visuals, that and the big speakers, part of a real stereo that sort of surprised me. I didn't think young people had old fashioned stereos much anymore. Of course it was silent, due to the power outage; Phish's music was drifting out of a small, white cordless speaker that sat on the coffee table in front of the couch. The last light of the day was filtering into the room through mini-blind covered windows, the candles not really necessary yet, burning more for atmosphere than needed light, although darkness was falling fast. My curious, weed-fueled gaze wandered around all four of Jack's walls, seemingly acres of off-white paint. I said, "You really need some art, Jack. Ever go to that poster print shop at the mall?"

"Yeah, I should get some stuff. Maybe you can help me pick some out?"

The thought of it flattered me to the point of another bashful blush, my head nodding without thinking.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Joe said, smoke billowing from his open mouth, his mind seemingly oblivious to the conversation. "You know, if I take a hit of this, close my eyes and meditate, I can convince my brain that it's air-conditioned in here, nice and cool." Joe inhaled another puff, held it, eyes closed, slouching his body back against the back cushion of Jack's white vinyl couch. "Oh, fuck yeah," he said.

"That did not work," I said, feeling my own nice buzz. "You can't just...convince yourself, can you?"

"Yeah, try it, he said, reaching the weed toward me. "You gotta really meditate on it. Really hard."

Like an idiot I took his word for it, sitting myself down, near him on the couch, taking a bigger puff than my first one. I closed my eyes, thought of ice, and snow; thought of my cool shower; thought of shivering. But I was still sweating, getting stickier by the minute. "You're full of it," I said, opening my eyes, giggling again. "That doesn't work at all. It doesn't make me less hot."

"No," Joe said, his stoned eyes looking at me in a deeper kind of way. "It makes you more hot. It's your smile. You got the best fuckin' smile."

"Oh, please," I said, smiling uncontrollably, blushing and bashful again. "You're talking to an old lady here. Don't talk to me about hot."

"Hey, I'm just callin' it like I see it," Joe said. "Watchu think, bro?"

Jack nodded, smiling. "Definitely. I have no problem with the hot moniker."

"You guys are stoned," I said. "It's like too much whiskey, closing time at the bar. Everybody starts to look good."

"No, no," Joe said. "There's different kinds of hot."

"Oh, wow," I said, feeling the head rush of a really good buzz. "Are we seriously having a conversation about women's hotness? I finally get to hear a real male point of view on the subject? This is awesome. You have to promise to be honest with me. Both of you. I want the straight scoop."

"Fuck yeah, always honest," Joe said.

I either felt really bold, or the marijuana high had already succeeded in disconnecting my conversational filter. "What kind of body type am I?" I asked. "And don't just say 'hot', because that's bullshit."

I looked at both of the guys, but Joe spoke right up. "Small tits, but sweet ones. Nice ass. Wicked nice long legs. What are you, like, five ten?"

"Five nine. I'm high-waisted, though, like my mom."

Joe nodded his stoned approval, eyes twinkling, smiling a little, taking another hit and passing the smoke to Jack.

I spoke again, my thoughts still flowing out unfiltered. "Tits and ass, you say. So, we're using the vernacular of the common man?"

Joe giggled. "Yeah. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure," I said. "I...use it too, sometimes."

"Vernacular's a fun word," Joe said.

"And you're a fun boy," I said. I looked at Jack, sitting in a chair near me. "So...what do you think?"

"Oh, wow, about...your body, you mean? Joe pretty much got it right."

"Oh, you're weaseling out, huh? Is it because we're neighbors? I promise not to make it weird."

Jack smiled, in that way that's made me a little melty for weeks now. "I like your posture," he said.

"My posture? Wow, that's interesting. Is it...unusual?"

"Sort of. You just stand really nicely, and walk nicely. And, like Joe said, you got a nice ass."

"An ass man, huh? I never would have guessed."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Jack, I guess when I look at you I...just figured you for a tit man."

My smile, at this point, was uncontrollable. This conversation I'd fallen into, in this smoky room, with these two young hunks, was like a happy dream that made me want to laugh. Jack passed me the weed and I took it. This third, big, deep puff made the inside of my brain feel like heaven.

"I like tits just as much as anybody," Jack said, smiling, "but small ones are just as beautiful as big ones. It's all good."

"Where were you guys when I was younger and feeling so bad about mine?"

"No!" Joe said, genuinely shocked. "You felt bad about them? Why?"

"Seriously? A 'B' cup doesn't cut it in this world," I said. "Not in the U- S-of-A. I always feel like it's maybe different in Europe."

"Fuck yeah, everything's hotter in Europe," Joe said.

"I think you're right," I said, chuckling. "They make the sexiest cars, and the best wine that makes everyone horny. A European designed the only sexy bra that makes my tits look really good."

"Fuck yeah, is that a job?" asked Joe. "Designing bras? That's gotta be sweet! "

More laughter, from all of us. Joe, on a roll saying amusing, off-the-wall things, said, "Jack's old girlfriend had big tits."

This made me howl with laughter, until tears rolled down my cheeks. "Oh, this I have to hear about! You guys aren't together anymore?"

"No," Jack said. "We had a place together. When we broke up, that's when I moved here."

"But..big tits, huh? Do you miss them?"

Jack smiled. "Only at night."

"And in the morning, and in the middle of the day," Joe said, laughing.

"Yeah, what about Emily," Jack said to him. "You miss her tits even more."

"Oh, fuck, they were freakin' awesome," Joe said.

"See, now this is what I mean. You two are definitely tit men. I had a feeling."

"Yeah, but that's what girls don't get," Joe said. "Us guys, we just like women. The details don't really matter. Emily, she was kind of...a big girl, I guess you'd say, but her tits, oh my God. You have cats, right Jill? Emily left me a cat."

"Oh, Wow! See, I thought you were a tit man and a dog guy. Turns out I was only half right. What's your cat's name?"

"Rita. She's got long, sorta reddish hair. Me and Emily named her after watching an old movie, with that Rita Hayworth actress. Talk about a hottie."

"Oh, wow," I said. "You like old movies? Which one was it, do you remember?"

"Gilda. It was really good."

"Yeah, that's good one," I said. "It's in that Film Noir style."

"What's that?" asked Joe.

I looked around, noticing the evening darkness outside for the first time, with the flickering candle light casting huge dark shadows in the room. "It's kinda like this," I said. "A dark, smoky room. A woman in the clutches of two handsome men. Men with dirty thoughts on their minds."

"What makes you think we have dirty thoughts on our minds?" asked Jack, his eyes twinkling beautifully.

Feeling very high, and suddenly flustered, I backtracked. "Oh, I didn't really. It's just...how those movies go. This is so much like it, though, with this heat, and...the three of us so...sweaty."

Joe re-lit the last of the weed, inhaled, blew a huge cloud of smoke into the stale, humid air. The candles illuminated it, the shifting, amorphous shape of the smoke cloud almost like the northern lights; the aurora borealis in black and white. "If you think we have dirty thoughts on our minds, that means you have dirty thoughts on your mind," he said, smirking.

"I just thought that's what young guys think about all the time," I said. "That was dumb, though. You wouldn't, with someone my age."

"What do you mean? That just makes it hotter," Joe said, tossing his cigarette lighter onto the coffee table.

I looked at the interesting looks in his and his brother's eyes. "Seriously? You guys are into...older women?"

"There's no reason not to be."

The tall drink of sangria in my hand, empty now, had gone straight to my head, beautifully altering my beautiful high. "All right then," I said, landing my gaze on handsome Jack's lovely eyes. "Just what kind of dirty thoughts are we talking about?"

Jack smiled, sat there for a few moments. "I...shouldn't say."

I smiled. "Oh, weaseling out again? Because we're neighbors? I told you, I promise not to make it weird."

"I know what he's thinking," Joe said. "A fuckin' super sweaty DP. Am I right, bro?"

"Oh my God!" I said, stunned, my body suddenly motionless. "I watch porn. I know what that is."

"Hey, you asked, we told," Joe said, acting casual even though his suggestion had been such a full-on bombshell.

"You seriously...would want to do that...with me? "

"Fuck yeah, but we're just answering your questions," he said. "It's fun to say what we think, but like you said, we won't make it weird or anything."

I swallowed hard, still barely able to move or breathe. Everything was suddenly very weird. I looked at Jack; his eyes told me his brother spoke the truth about the dirty thoughts in both their minds, but I still couldn't quite believe it. Jack? My handsome stud neighbor? Wants to put his cock...in my ass? It seemed as if I must have dreamed the last half hour, but no, there we all were, in flesh and blood, all three of us glistening with candle-lit perspiration.

"Jesus it's hot in here," I said.

"Wanna go sit on the front steps?" asked Jack. I'm pretty sure he was being a nice guy, giving me a way to escape the weirdness, a way to mellow out, back to normalcy.

I shook my head, slowly. "No...let's...stay in here. I'm gonna go get a fresh drink. I'll be...back."

Everything seemed to be slow motion: my thoughts, my speech. I stood and didn't know how I was doing it; I walked, feeling floaty. The guys didn't say a word as I left, me closing Jack's door behind me, me out in the hallway, a space that felt completely different from just forty-five minutes ago. My apartment felt like an oven, but everywhere did, so hot, so still, so sticky. My cats didn't budge to say hello.

Checking my phone, which I'd left behind, there was a text from my friend Allie, from about a half an hour ago: Are you surviving the blackout? It's so F*ing hot! I'm imagining a naked man fanning me with a palm frond.

I replied: Sorry I missed this, I was sitting out front on the steps. I'll see your naked man, and raise you 2 naked men. Am I awful?

Allie replied: You go girl!

I mixed my drink and took a deep breath in the eerie, stifling quiet of my apartment. Of course my mind was doing flip-flops: horny, then sensible, then horny again. As you can see, horny was winning.

So here's the thing: I'm no anal virgin. As I mentioned, Mr. Mercedes—that's what Allie calls the rich guy I dated—he was pretty damn good in bed, full of ideas that were new to me, and anal sex was one of them. I'm pretty much a game girl when it comes to the bedroom, so I tried it with him. And...I liked it. The smell and dirtiness of it was a turn on and a turn off, so sort of a wash, no pun intended. But the feeling of it, that was all good. I got off on it. I didn't have anal orgasms or anything like that, but if felt stupid good, I liked it, and Mr. Mercedes did, too. He said I was tight like a vice in there, and he's not even very big.

Then along comes my dabbling in porn watching, and what do you know, I discover this Double Penetration craziness. I mean, come on! Who invented this stuff! Who was the girl? I want to know her name, and watch a documentary about her, because she was just flat out bonkers. Do you think it was in Victorian times, or back in the old West? Maybe a Medieval girl, or a Roman? Did Cleopatra take it in the pussy and the ass at the same time? Jesus, the mind boggles.

I sipped my freshly made ice cold drink, thinking about how good it felt to be high on weed after all these years, and the next thing you know I'm in my bathroom, naked from the waist down, washing my asshole, looking through my medicine drawer for a ten-year old tube of sex lube. The hornies just weren't giving up, and my staid life was feeling electric for the first time in forever. Of course there was still the reality to deal with: two young guys who may be all talk, or may have just humored this older woman, because they felt sorry for me or something stupid like that. I was pretty sure they weren't assholes playing games with me. Jack's a genuinely nice guy, not the type who would fuck with a woman's emotions. So, my very horny mind was thinking that yes, they really do want to fuck me silly, and I'll be damned if I didn't really, really want them to. And they're brothers! I can check that fantasy off the list, too!

"I think I'm getting lucky, you guys," I said to my sprawled, lethargic cats as I straightened my skirt over my sexiest panties. "Your Mom's gone crazy. Be nice to me later. Don't judge."

I topped up my drink with a slug of wine from the bottle, put the tube of lube in my shirt pocket, and boldly strolled over to Jack's place. Both Jack and Joe had removed their shirts, lounging comfortably in just their shorts. The sight of them, there in the flickering, shadowy candlelight, and the sweet smell of smoke in the air, and the oppressive heat that I could almost taste, made me swoon a little, in a woderfuly good way.

"What's this music?" I asked. "I like this, too."

"Mazzy Star," Jack said.

I stood and listened. A soft, echo-ey sounding band, with a mysteriously dreamy female vocalist, they sounded like the very air in the room — muggy, and smoky, and so very warm. "This is sexy music. You guys surprise me."

"We were thinking the same thing," Jack said, smirking in a pleasing way.

"What, that I surprise you?"

He nodded. It was a fun little moment between us, one I think I'd been dreaming of since the day I secretly watched him move into the building.

I walked over to the couch, sat myself down, and tossed the tube of lube onto the coffee table. It felt like what a big-time gambler must feel when showing her hand of cards, a once-in-a-lifetime hand that wins a fortune.

"Ohhhh yeahhh!" Joe said, smiling. "For real? We're doin' this?" He looked at his brother. "Dude, this fuckin' building you moved into is sick! "

"It just so happens I'm a fan of anal sex," I said, feeling a powerful blush on my face. "And I've never...done the double...so..."

"Fuck yeah," Joe said. "Remember, before, when I said you're hot? You're, like, twenty times hotter now."

"Got anymore weed?" I asked. "If I'm gonna to sit here in my underwear, like I think I'm gonna do, I'll need a little more buzz to keep me from being embarrassed."

"Fuck yeah," Joe said. "Let's get fucked up."

"You're awfully quiet tonight, Jack," I said. "Was your brother the talkative one growing up?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, he used to drive our mother crazy."

I kept my eyes on him for a minute, my stoned, lazy gaze openly looking at his beautiful topless torso, all young and smoothly muscled, just hairy enough to make my mouth water.

Joe looked nearly identical, maybe slightly more muscled, maybe a few beers thicker around the middle.

"Guys are so lucky, you can just take your shirt off when it's hot," I said.

"Hey, go for it," Joe said. "Yeah, it's way too hot for clothes."

He lit another 'spliff', as he called it, handing it to me, a thin column of smoke rising from it. I inhaled deeply, feeling the acrid smoke rush through my throat, feeling my mind expand, almost instantly. Handing the spliff to Jack, I rode the rushing high, using my surprisingly long-feeling fingers to unbutton my shirt.

"There's that sweet posture," Joe said, eyeing my tits, my slightly arched back giving their small size all the prominence I could muster. "Holy shit. You look good. That bra's hot."

"It's my favorite," I said, wiggling out of my tight jean shorts. I felt unbelievably wanton sitting there wearing nothing but my sexiest bra and panties, like a true slut, my pussy easily visible through the delicacy of the red lace.

"Shit, Bro," Joe said, eyes on my body but speaking to his brother. "Didn't Trixie have that same stuff on? There must have been a sale or something. That's French, right?"

I furrowed my brow, wondering how this not-very-worldly guy knew about handmade French underwear from a New York City boutique. "Okay, first of all, who's Trixie? And how do you know this is French?"

Joe, blowing out a big cloud of smoke, said, "She was this stripper a friend of ours hired, for a bachelor party. She was somethin' else. Went totally rogue, off the hook. Best party ever. She had that exact same bra and panties."

"Jesus, Jack," I said, smirking. "You told me she was good, but...off the hook rogue, huh?"

Jack nodded sheepishly, not saying a thing. There was something odd going on in his head, I could tell.

"So Joe," I said, taking the spliff from his reaching arm, "tell me how you know about French underwear."

"You'll think I'm fucked up, but...when she was fucking our buddy Justin I picked up her panties and...some of us guys passed them around for a sniff. I saw the little label inside. It said French stuff."

"Okay, wow! She fucked him? Is he the guy getting married? "

"Yeah," Joe said, smiling. "She called him Babyface."

That made me laugh, but wow, these revelations about what happens at a bachelor party were mind boggling, to say the least. "So that's what you meant by off-the-hook rogue? Because she fucked him? Was it...right here with everyone watching?"

"Yeah," Joe said. "Blowjobs, and fucking. A total gangbang. It killed. Right, bro? It was fuckin' amazing."