That Green Dress Ch. 03

"Yes. But please understand, I wouldn't, but - "

"I know," she interrupted, "I know you wouldn't. But when it's the three of us together..." She didn't finish the sentence, but instead offered some others. "I'll tell you clearly, too, so there's no misunderstanding later. I want you to fuck her. I want to watch. And I want her, too. I couldn't accept that after I sobered up four weeks ago, but I think I can now."

With that reassurance, there was nothing more to discuss for the moment. I retrieved my empty cup, Melissa drank down the rest of her Manhattan, and we exited the bedroom. Walking through the hall, Melissa said over her shoulder, "Now let's go make sure Greg gets smashed."

Downstairs, Lisa mingled with their guests as Greg made a couple more Manhattans for Melissa and me.

"So," Melissa started her conversation with Greg, "Last time I saw you, you were still in law school. And now you're a lawyer. Tell me about that."

That was a conversation I was not at all interested in hearing. I turned and looked around at all the faces I could see. I recognized nobody. Besides our hosts, there were about eight couples at the party, one "obviously single" guy, and two more women. One of those women was also obviously single while I wasn't too sure about the other. To my mind, the guy was obviously single because he was standing by the fireplace in the living room, taking small sips from his drink, and talking to no other guests. The one woman was obviously single because - to me, at least - she was not at all attractive, but was flirting with a few of the men at the party. She avoided talking to the single guy, though, probably because she was smart enough to pick up on his desperate vibe. The woman who I wasn't sure about was not paired with any man at the party, was mostly talking to two of the couples, and was friendly but not flirting with anyone. Maybe she had a boyfriend or husband who couldn't make it to the party, or maybe she liked being single, or maybe she was a lesbian. My mind went on and on, considering all the possibilities. Watching people and making up stories about them in my head was more interesting to me than learning about Greg's career as a lawyer.

I watched as Lisa maneuvered through her guests. She slid easily into a conversation, listened, spoke, listened, smiled, made a joke that brought laughter, listened, spoke, made another joke, and eventually slid politely and effortlessly out of the conversation before sliding into another. She checked her guests' cups and fetched drinks for them when they looked empty. She picked up snacks from the dining table and brought them around. And all the while her white linen clothes whirled around her thin frame and her long, blond hair twirled around her head. Her guests adored her. They were having so much fun, and so was Lisa. There was not even a hint of sexuality emanating from her as she cared for her guests, nor when she looked at me, at Melissa, or at her husband.

Did Lisa have some sort of internal switch? Some sort of mechanism inside of her that changed her from an innocent, fairy-like creature to a raving nymphomaniac under certain conditions? Or is the innocent fairy appearance only a veneer beneath which her true, slutty self continually hides? In any case, as I watched her move about her party, it almost seemed like I had completely fabricated in my mind what had transpired minutes ago in the guest bedroom upstairs. The words she spoke earlier replayed in my head, "Mike, I'll let you cum inside me if you make me cum first." It now seemed impossible that those filthy words could have come from that beautiful, sweet mouth.

Lisa smiled at me politely as she passed me on her way back to the kitchen. "Hey Honey, did you know Melissa and Mike play pool? Maybe we can fit a game in tonight?"

"Oh, you play pool now?" Greg asked Melissa.

"Well, I'm not good or anything, but yeah." Melissa looked at me as she spoke. "Mike used to play a lot, so he taught me."

"I don't claim to be good either," replied Greg, turning to me, "but I do enjoy a game now and then. Our pool table came to us in a stroke of luck, actually."

"Yeah, Lisa mentioned that the previous owner left it behind when they moved out," I interjected. "That is lucky."

"We probably wouldn't have gotten it otherwise," finished Greg. "Tell you what: Let me get caught up on everyone's drinks and then we'll play a game."

"Yours is looking a little empty, there, Greg," said Melissa, peering down into Greg's cup. "Don't forget to replenish your own."

"I'm certain I won't," replied Greg. He gestured a whisper with his hand as he said, "Alcohol is what allows me to tolerate so many guests at once."

"Yeah, he says it like it's a joke," retorted Lisa, "but it's the truth." Lisa and Greg smiled knowingly at each other.

Speaking to Melissa, Greg said, "How about you and Mike go warm up on the table while I make these drinks. I'll be over shortly."

Melissa and I sank a few warm-up shots on the pool table before Greg entered the study along with the "obviously single" guy I was watching earlier. "Melissa and Mike, have you met Brian yet?" asked Greg. "He's relatively new to the area and new to our law firm." After our initial greetings, he added, "So the two of us against the two of you?"

"Sure," answered Melissa.

"I just want to say sorry ahead of time if I suck really bad at this game," said Brian, speaking relatively slowly. "I never played much, and it's safe to say I'm high as fuck right now."

"Well that explains it," I thought.

"There's some brownies in the fridge if you want some, by the way. Just don't eat more than, like, half of a brownie."

I thought that was pretty funny, and already I liked Brian. And now I understood why he looked so awkward standing by himself in front of the fireplace earlier.

Despite his preemptive apology, Brian turned out to be a pretty good player, sinking several balls in a row.

"High as fuck, huh?" I joked.

"Yeah! What the hell?" Melissa chimed in.

Greg smiled proudly for his teammate.

"Yeah," Brian chuckled. "Right now I think it's really helping my focus, you know? I can just...see my shots. Usually I can't do that. Pretty cool."

"I'm sorry, Brian, but we're going to have to report your activities to the Olympic Committee and recommend that you are stripped of all medals," said Melissa.

"Dude," smiled Brian, "that's fucked up."

I shot and missed, and then it was Greg's turn. As he was lining up at the side of the table, something in the foyer caught his attention, which caused me to look in that direction, too. Lisa stood there, opening the front door for someone. The open door blocked our view of whoever it was that received a greeting from Lisa similar to the one she gave to Melissa and me. But a moment later, Lisa backed in, allowing the guest to enter as she swung the door closed. In walked a dark-haired man who looked like an underwear model, carrying a 6-pack of beer. Seeing Greg, he waved, and then waved to each of us in the study. Greg smiled and waved back as Lisa whisked the man away toward the kitchen.

"That's our friend Chris," said Greg. Despite his smile, I detected some stress in his voice as he said those words.

Melissa and I lost that game of pool, thanks to Brian's ability to 'see' his shots. I suggested we all go refill our drinks. As we passed through the living room, I saw Chris was already attracting the attention of the two single women, who were simultaneously engaging him in conversation. I decided then that the one who I suspected might be a lesbian definitely was not. Her smile was irrepressible as she showered her attention upon him.

Greg stopped to talk to Chris while Melissa, Brian, and I continued to the kitchen, where Lisa was making a drink for someone.

"Who won?" asked Lisa.

"Your husband and Brian," replied Melissa. "Brian has enhanced capabilities, apparently," she added, speaking louder and in Brian's direction as Brian walked to the refrigerator.

Brian smiled back at us as he opened the refrigerator, then he extracted a small plastic container and brought it to us at the island and opened it.

"Have some, if you'd like," he suggested.

"Oh, wow. You know, I've never tried pot," said Melissa as she looked over the brownies.

She had a look of curiosity, which surprised me completely. I knew that she had never tried pot.

Turning to me, she said, "You've done pot, right?"

"Yeah, I did some in high school and college, but it's been a long time. It's not really my thing."

She looked back to the brownies, and I could see she was actually contemplating trying them.

"I'm certainly not going to stop you if you want to try it," I said, "but since you've never done it before, take it easy. Maybe just a quarter of one, at most." I looked to Brian for confirmation.

"Yeah, a quarter, at most," repeated Brian. "These treats aren't messing around."

"Just one suggestion," I added. "Stop drinking for now and switch to water. Getting high and drunk at the same time might be a little overwhelming for someone who hasn't been high before."

Brian pointed toward me in agreement, saying, "That's a good idea."

Melissa gave a nod to no one in particular and said, "OK, I'll give it a try." She broke off about one quarter of a brownie and ate it. "Mmm. Bonus! It's delicious, too!"

"That's Mom's recipe," remarked Brian. "You want any?" he asked me.

"Maybe later. I think I'll keep an eye on Melissa first to make sure she's OK before I join in the fun."

Greg came into the kitchen from the living room, bumping into Melissa and me as he tried to slide past us between the island and the cabinetry behind us. I thought I saw his hands lightly touch Melissa's hips as he passed, but Melissa paid no attention.

"Hey Sweetheart, could you help me in the garage for a second?" asked Greg.

"Sure," replied Lisa.

The two of them disappeared behind the door to the right of the refrigerator.

"Well, I think I'm good for another," said Brian, and he broke off another quarter of a brownie and ate it before returning the container to the refrigerator.

"How are you doing?" I asked Melissa, quietly.

Understanding my meaning, she responded, "I'm fine. I'm having a good time. I have a good buzz from the Manhattans, but I'm not drunk or anything. You?"

"I have a good buzz going, too, but I think I'll make myself another drink."

"Go for it!" encouraged Melissa. She leaned down on the island, folding her arms and propping herself up on her elbows as she observed my drink-mixing.

Brian walked to the sink at the opposite side of the kitchen, washed his hands, then went into the living room, leaving the two of us alone.

While I made another Manhattan from behind the island, I whispered to Melissa, "And how's Greg doing?"

Melissa stared up at me for a moment, and then a devilish grin slowly spread across her lips. "He's fine, I'm sure."

"Well, you know him. Do you think he's on track to overdo it tonight?"

"It would be a real pity if he didn't, wouldn't it?" Those beautiful, sage-colored eyes didn't leave mine and her smile did not fade as we shared a moment of silence together. But my eyes couldn't help but drop downward to soak in the view of her cleavage, which, bent over as she was, had increased in depth. Then I watched her ass move slowly side to side as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then back again. "Hey," Melissa said after a moment, "eyes up here."

Totally caught looking over my wife's beautiful body, all I could do was smile. "Sorry," I said. "You know, you really are stunning."

Just then the door from the garage opened and Greg entered. Melissa and I both looked toward him. He silently nodded at me with a small, forced smile before moving to quickly exit the kitchen. Again he placed his hands on Melissa's hips as he slid past her. Simultaneously, Melissa had begun to stand up straight to let him through, but she wasn't fast enough to avoid his crotch making full contact with her ass. In that instant, the smile that had been on her face changed, as her mouth opened slightly.

Still smiling, and with Greg now walking into the living room, Melissa moved close to me, placed her hands gently on my cheeks, and said, "Thank you. It's nice to know that my husband finds me to be 'stunning.'" With that, she kissed me tenderly, and even ventured to slip me a little tongue, which I reciprocated.

"Get a room, guys!" said Lisa as she entered from the garage. We turned to face her, and she smiled and winked at us before going to the living room.

Melissa turned her face back to mine, still smiling, and whispered, "Yeah, we definitely need to give Greg more encouragement." Looking into my eyes, she brought her hand to my crotch and started to stroke my dick through my khakis. Her smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. Neither of us said a thing. We stood silently behind the island in the kitchen, all alone, while she stroked my dick slowly and deliberately, bringing it from flaccid to fully hard.

Finally I broke the silence. "Why are you teasing me like this?"

"Who says I'm teasing?"

"Yeah? You want to go for it right here?"

"Kinda." Another moment of silence passed before she added, "I'm so wet right now." She bit her lower lip, then smiled, and then laughed and removed her hand from my crotch. "Sorry. I guess I was only teasing."

"Bitch!" I joked.

Melissa lowered her head to look up at me from the tops of her eyes, again giving me that devilish grin, as she stepped back and away from me. Changing to a friendly expression, she stepped close to me again and said in a low voice, "But seriously, I'm going to try a little harder to get Greg drunk. Trust me?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Well, you said I'm 'stunning,' so if that's true, I thought, maybe, a little flirtation might work."

Suddenly I felt uneasy. "Yeah, I don't think...uh...I don't really like that idea."

"Oh, c'mon. I'll keep it light. Don't worry. If a little light flirting doesn't help, I'll back off."

The old feelings I dealt with while Melissa and I were dating years prior bubbled up to the surface. They were almost strangers to me, unfamiliar, as I had grown so much apart from them. But I still recognized them, and I reminded myself that it was of utmost importance to show that I trusted her, despite whatever I felt inside.

And so I gave Melissa a smile and said, "Just keep it light. Otherwise you risk breaking his heart all over again." I winked at her, then realized I must have gotten the idea to wink from Lisa.

Melissa gave me another quick kiss. "Make us a couple of Manhattans?"

"I already have one here."

"Yeah, I know. I mean for me and Greg. I can't get him to drink more if I don't have a drink for him."

"Ah, I see. I'm adding water to yours, though, because of the pot brownie."

"Yes, please."

Lisa returned to the kitchen with a couple empty cups and asked, "Mike, are you bartending now?"

"Looks that way. What can I do for you?"

I finished the Manhattans. Melissa swept them away from the island counter, leaned down to give Lisa a quick, playful peck on the cheek, and walked around the corner into the living room, out of view.

I made drinks for Lisa. Meanwhile a couple I hadn't met, Mark and Cindy, came into the kitchen and asked me to make a couple drinks for them. We chatted for a while, exhausting all of the usual party small talk topics, before returning to the living room. There I met up with Brian, who drew my interest because he was staring, slack-jawed, at the ceiling.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Somebody spent a lot of time on this ceiling, man."

"How do you mean?" I looked up.

Pointing in no particular direction, he answered, "Check out the sweeping stucco pattern. Those arcs. They're all exactly the same size, and they all have the exact same number of ridges."

"Oh, yeah, look at that. You're right."

"Isn't that, just, amazing? And all the angles are the same. Let your eyes go across the ceiling toward the other side of the room, and you'll see the alignment of the arcs is perfect. No deviations anywhere."

I did as he suggested. My eyes followed the arcs on the ceiling from our side of the room to the other, until they ended at the foyer. Then my eyes caught sight of Melissa in the front side of the study, standing at the head of the pool table, upright pool stick in hand, talking to someone who was probably at the foot of the table, to my left and out of my view. She laughed at something. Then she pointed at a ball on the table as she spoke, while her head gradually turned from the foot of the table to her left, her gaze apparently following the person approaching from the other side of the table.

Greg came into view from the left and rounded the corner of the pool table, temporarily blocking my view of Melissa before he made his way behind her and to her right side. Her gaze followed his face until her neck wouldn't allow her head to turn any further to the left, as if she was impatiently expecting him to answer a question she had just asked. As he stepped behind her and to her right side, his left hand drifted outward from his body and made contact with Melissa's left hip, where it then remained as he stood next to her.

Melissa stopped pointing at the ball and brought that hand to join the other near the top of her upright pool stick. Greg then pointed at the same ball with his right hand as he said something, then seemed to draw a line with his finger toward another ball. Still his left hand did not leave Melissa's left hip.

Suddenly Melissa bent over the table to reach for the cue ball, which had been at rest near the table's center. The ball was so far away that Melissa had to bend all the way over, until her breasts pressed against the table's green felt, before her outstretched hand could reach it. Her movement caused the position of Greg's left hand on her hip to appear completely unnatural, yet his hand remained for that brief second before she returned to an upright position, cue ball in her left hand. She pushed her right hip into Greg in a playful gesture to instruct him to move away so that she could take a shot. He obeyed, but as he stepped away from her right, his left hand drifted downward from her hip and across her ass. Melissa didn't seem to notice.

After Melissa took her shot, she grabbed her cup from the window sill behind her and raised it toward Greg to suggest he join her, which he did. If the scene before me was a good indicator, then it looked to me like Melissa would succeed in getting Greg drunk. It also looked to me like Greg was entertaining an attraction he still had for my wife.

That brief image of Melissa bent over the pool table with Greg's hand on her hip remained vividly in my mind. For the next several minutes I tried to mingle among the guests in the living room and hopefully find some good conversation, but all I could see was that image of Melissa and Greg, which then reminded me of Amy from college. I hadn't thought of her in a long time. She was the one I had fucked on a billiards table on the exact spot that my girlfriend, Heather, and Amy's boyfriend, Rich, had fucked a few weeks prior. While I talked to Cindy and Mark there in the living room about whatever it was that Mark did for a living, I imagined Amy bent over the billiards table in front of me, her sweaty face pressed against its green felt, screaming obscenely about her boyfriend fucking my girlfriend. When Cindy told me about her work, I was imagining my girlfriend, Heather, getting fucked by Rich the same way as Amy while I watched from nearby.

I realized that my stomach had begun to feel knotted, and I recognized that I was feeling anger. I took a breath and rationalized it. Why was I feeling anger? I was feeling anger over Heather cheating on me in college, that is all. I was not feeling anger toward Amy, as she was only ever good to me. And I wasn't feeling any anger toward Melissa, as she didn't do anything wrong. In fact, even Greg didn't do anything wrong. The two of them were together for a couple years, so it's natural for them to feel comfortable around each other, and a little flirtation is harmless. That image in my head is my own doing. I latched onto it because of old perversions, but in reality it is nothing to look at. There's nothing there. The anger began to fade.