That Green Dress Ch. 03

"Hi, I'm Chris," came a voice from behind an outstretched hand.

My eyes focused on the face behind the hand. "Oh, yes. Hi! I'm Mike. I'm glad to see you survived."

Chris smiled and a confused look spread across his face. "What do you mean?"

"Those two women earlier. The single ones. It looked like they were mauling you."

"Oh, yeah. They were ferocious, but I was able to escape before it became deadly."

"What, are you an underwear model or something?" That sounded better in my head than it did after I blurted it out, and I decided I was probably getting drunk.

"Nope...no...not an underwear model."

"Well, you could be. You're obviously a very good-looking guy."

"Thanks, but...uh...just to be clear, I'm straight."

"Yes! Yes! Of course. I'm sorry, I'm being drunk and stupid. I'm straight, too. I'm not hitting on you. I just happened to notice when you walked into the house that all the women seemed to stop in their tracks and stare at you. Probably my wife, too."

"I see. Yeah, that happens sometimes. But don't worry, I'm not here for your wife."

"Ha, ha! Good, good. Yeah, I'm sorry, I think I'm pretty fucked up right now."

"No, that's fine. I work at a bar, so I'm used to being around drunk people having a good time. This is a party. You're doing what you're supposed to be doing."

"Yes, indeed. It is a party. And I am having a good time." If I hadn't been drunk, the moment of silence that then passed between us probably would have felt awkward. "So," I restarted, "Bride or groom?"

Catching my meaning, Chris responded, "Both, actually."

"Old friends?"

"Well, I've known Greg and Lisa for about a year, I guess. We met in the city and partied together, and basically just clicked."

"That's nice. It's unusual for people our age to meet like that and become friends, so it's special when it happens."

"It is, it is. They're a lot of fun. How do you know them?"

"Well, Lisa and Melissa are friends for like six or seven months, so that's how I know Lisa. And I just met Greg for the first time tonight."

"Oh yeah? Between you and me, what do you think of him?"

The question sounded a little strange in my ears. "How do you mean?"

"What I mean is, he tends to keep to himself, right? I like him, from what I know of him, but I feel like I know so little."

"Ah, yes, I can see that. He already had a couple drinks in him when we got here, so he was pretty relaxed from the start. But Melissa told me before that he can be a little 'shy and condescending,' although he doesn't mean to be. She said he's one of the smartest people she has ever met. I guess I think he's alright. He's nice. I could see him being a little reserved, but I'd rather be around someone like that than a guy who doesn't shut up, you know what I mean?"

"I hear that."

Another moment of silence passed between us. The only thing I could think to say was, "You know, they used to date."

"Who?"

"My wife and Greg."

"Really?"

"Yeah, a long time ago. Somehow that's how...I mean, it's some sort of crazy coincidence, right?"

"You mean it's a coincidence that Lisa and your wife became friends?"

"Exactly. Yeah. They met at our gym. They became friends, and then they realized that Lisa's husband used to be my wife's boyfriend."

"Wow. That is a crazy coincidence, although not unbelievable. And you're OK with them hanging out?"

"You think I should be worried?"

"Well, no, I'm not saying that. Just me, personally, I think I would feel uncomfortable to see my wife hanging out with an ex-boyfriend. Even if nothing bad is going on, it would just feel a little strange, knowing that, you know, they had been together."

"Ah, I know what you mean. Well, in this particular case, they were never that serious."

"Oh, I misunderstood."

"Yeah. I mean, they dated for a couple years. Although I guess the word 'dated' isn't the right word. I know he had some things at her apartment that he had to fetch when they broke up, so maybe they weren't living completely separately."

"Wait, so they lived together, but you say they were never that serious? How much more serious could they have been?" Chris laughed.

"You're right, you're right. It sounds all fucked up, I agree. Look, I've backed myself into a corner. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I know for a fact that my wife was a virgin when we married."

"No way. You're serious?"

"Yeah, it's a fact."

"So Greg and your wife spent two years together and never actually...wow. That's amazing."

"Almost unheard of these days, really."

"Poor guy."

"Greg?"

"Well yeah. C'mon. Two years? I wouldn't have been able to wait that long."

"No?"

"Definitely not. I think that would have caused me some physical damage, you know?"

I laughed at his joke. "Yeah, I know. I had to wait for her, too."

"That's right, I suppose you did. I hope it wasn't two years for you."

"No, no, it went a little faster than that. But you're right, it was torturous sometimes." Another silence passed between us, and I contemplated how far my mouth had run away from me, and I felt stupid and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'm really fucked up."

"Yeah, you said. That's cool. No worries."

"How are you doing there with your drink? You OK?"

"I brought some beer and I'm sticking to that."

"Nice. Alright. Well, I'm going to go get some water. I'll catch up with you later."

"Yes. It was nice to meet you."

"You too, Chris."

I went to the kitchen. Lisa stood behind the island talking to a couple of guests I hadn't met yet. She smiled at me without breaking their conversation as I filled my cup with ice and water. I smiled back, but I knew I needed to sober up a little before trying to engage in any more conversation, especially with her, so I didn't say anything and left. I went straight through the living room toward the study.

At first the study appeared empty, but as I walked through the foyer I could see farther back into the room. Melissa was standing with her back toward me, leaning against the pool table, and Greg was leaning against his desk a few feet away, facing her, his cup in his left hand. I guessed I had interrupted a deep conversation.

"Mike!" shouted Greg in an enthusiastic greeting. He gave me a big smile as he stood up straight. "Enjoying the party?" He took a couple steps toward me to shake my hand, for some reason.

Melissa stood up straight, too.

I shook Greg's hand. "Yeah, probably a little too much, actually. Had to switch to water for a little."

"Good idea!" agreed Greg.

Behind Greg I could see Melissa widen her eyes at me, which I recognized as a signal that I had said something stupid. Instantly I understood what it was.

"Oh, Mike, you're such a lightweight!" complained Melissa. She took a couple steps forward to stand next to Greg, then leaned into him, slipped her right hand around his left upper arm, and placed her left hand over his left forearm. Her right breast, pressed tightly against him, seemed to absorb his elbow. "I'm still just nursing a buzz, so I could use another drink. How about you, Greg?"

"Sure, I could go for another!"

"Let's go, boys!" invited Melissa. She pulled Greg along with her as she began her walk to the kitchen, taking my arm by the elbow as they passed, such that Greg and I walked her side-by-side from the study to the foyer. To move through the crowded living room, Greg stepped out in front of us and took Melissa by the hand to lead us, while Melissa did the same with me.

Passing Brian, Melissa suddenly stopped and let go of Greg's hand, giving Greg the "just a second" signal with her finger. Greg walked on alone to the kitchen.

"Hey Brian, how's it going?"

"Splendid," smiled Brian. His eyes were nearly closed as the word slowly made its escape from his mouth.

"Hey, it's been like a half hour or an hour since I had that brownie. Shouldn't I be feeling it by now?"

"Oh, hell yeah you should be feeling it. How is it?"

"That's what I mean. I'm not feeling anything yet."

"Dude, maybe that corner was a dud. I've had that happen. Sometimes the mix isn't mixed so well, you know?"

"So definitely I should feel something within a half hour?"

"Absolutely. Absolutely. Have another corner, dude. You're good."

"OK, thanks!"

Melissa pulled me along for two more steps, then stopped again.

"Do you think I'm OK to have another corner of brownie?"

Imitating high Brian, I said, "Dude, absolutely. You're good."

Melissa looked at me like I was crazy for a second, then gave me a knowing smile before pulling me the rest of the way into the kitchen.

Approaching the kitchen island, I heard Greg ask Lisa if she could ask Chris to fetch some ice.

"I don't want to send a guest to get ice," responded Lisa.

"Well I don't trust myself to drive at this point, and he's probably the most sober person here right now. I'd ask him, but I'm sure he would respond better if the question came from you than from me."

"Fine." Lisa made an exit.

Melissa and Lisa squeezed past each other by the island as Melissa went to the refrigerator. Without removing the container, she opened it, grabbed another corner of a brownie, and put it in her mouth before closing the refrigerator door. She turned and smiled at me as she chewed and swallowed, then took the step forward to stand close to Greg again.

"What are we having this time?" she asked him.

"Manhattans again, if you don't mind."

"That works!" Melissa leaned into Greg's side again, pressing her body against his briefly, but this time she didn't grab onto his arm, since it was busy making the drinks. They both pretended that it didn't even happen, except that Melissa smiled at me just after she did it.

Lisa called out from the living room, "Honey, he doesn't know the area, so I'm going with him!"

Without even looking up, Greg answered, "That's fine! Careful!"

"Wait just a second," I thought, "Chris is about to go out alone with Lisa. The two of them alone together to go for ice? Isn't that a cliché? Knowing what I know about Lisa, how could Greg trust Lisa, the nymphomaniac pixie, alone with Chris, the hypermasculine underwear model? I imagined Lisa opening the back door of a car somewhere out there in the dark, laying herself down on the back seat, and pulling Chris down on top of her. I could see the two of them naked, Chris holding her arms down over her head, completely dominating her petite frame, pounding her tight pussy with his cock, then shooting cum all over her flat belly and chest as she moaned and squirmed beneath him. I was surprised to feel jealousy with that image, and arousal at the possibility that Lisa was about to fuck Chris.

And there stood Greg, apparently oblivious, finishing a couple more drinks. "Here you are, Melissa."

"Thanks, Greg. Cheers!" Melissa raised her cup, and Greg and I raised ours, then we all drank.

"Hey, you two," began Greg, "how about you go grab another couple and play another game of pool. I'll need to watch after the guests while Lisa's out."

"Sure," I answered.

Melissa shrugged and agreed, saying, "See you in a bit!" then joined me as we went to the living room to seek out another willing couple. Since I already had met Cindy and Mark, I asked them.

"Sounds good, " responded Mark, "Just let me run to the bathroom quick and we'll be right there."

Entering the study, I turned to Melissa and said quietly, "That's fucked up, huh?"

"What is?" asked Melissa.

"Lisa and Chris. Getting ice."

"How is that fucked up?"

"You don't think that was an excuse for the two of them to go hook up?"

"No, not at all. You think Lisa is like that?"

"I guess, although, honestly, I don't know Lisa well enough to say for sure. But given what happened between us, and given how handsome Chris is, I just don't know."

"Exactly. You don't know. So you shouldn't say something like that."

"You're right. I'm sorry. The thought got into my head, and it just seemed so...plausible."

"But it isn't plausible. Greg told me that Chris is gay."

"He's gay?"

"Yes. He's gay."

I was about to explain to Melissa how I know that Chris is straight, but I was already sobering up enough to know to keep my mouth shut. "Wow, I wouldn't have guessed."

"Right?" agreed Melissa. "He seems too masculine to be gay, doesn't he?"

"He certainly does. Oh, well. That's a reminder to check my stereotypes."

Mark and Cindy entered the study. I racked the balls on the pool table, Mark broke, and the game was underway. The alcohol was definitely having a negative effect on our play, as each of us repeatedly missed shots we should have made.

"We all suck!" commented Mark after several minutes of play.

"Yeah, we do," I agreed.

I looked from him to Melissa. She was looking into the distance over my left shoulder. A moment later, she changed her gaze to look down to the floor on her left. Seconds passed, and then she looked directly at me.

"Wow," she whispered.

"What?" I asked.

"I think that second brownie got me."

"Impossible. You just ate it a few minutes ago."

"I'm seeing things in...like...frames. This is wild." She smiled as she continued to look around the room, then giggled.

"OK, yeah, you're definitely high," I concluded. "But that's not the second brownie kicking in. That's the first brownie finally kicking in."

"Wow...simply...wow."

"Yep, sounds about right," I commented. To Cindy and Mark, I asked, "Whose shot is it?"

"Last shot was mine, so it's yours now," Mark answered.

We played on for a few more missed shots, then it came time for me to visit the bathroom. When I returned to the study, Melissa was gone, and Brian was pulling a pool stick from the rack on the wall.

"Where'd she go?"

"She said she's too high to play," answered Cindy. "I think she's in the kitchen."

"She said I should play for her," offered Brian.

"I'll be right back." I walked through the living room. As I approached the dining area and kitchen, I spotted Melissa's black high heels sitting next to each other on the floor under the near side of the dining table. As I rounded the corner, two guests stood by the nearest side of the island as Greg stood on the far side, mixing drinks for them. Melissa was seated on the island's countertop to his right, watching him.

Seeing me enter the room, Melissa asked, "Where'd you go? I thought we were playing pool?" Her speech had slowed.

"I just went to the bathroom for a minute. That's all."

"Really? I thought you were gone for a while." She giggled at something.

"Nope. It was just a couple minutes, at most."

"Well. I'm too high to play. Get Brian. He'll be your partner."

"Yeah, I think you already got him."

"Yes. I got Brian. Play. Have fun."

"OK. I'll be back to check on you in a bit."

Reluctantly I returned to the game of pool in the study. Melissa's replacement, Brian, had lost all of the "focus" he had earlier. It seemed he was too high to play now, too. The game dragged on, missed shot after missed shot. After what seemed like an eternity, I managed to transform my frustration into willpower, and I was able to sink enough balls to finally claim victory. We all shook hands and said, "good game," even though we all knew that was a lie.

"Time for a refill!" I said as I picked up my cup and shook the ice inside, excusing myself from the room. Approaching the dining room, I noticed again Melissa's black high heels resting under the dining table. As I rounded the corner, I found the kitchen to be empty. Alarmed, I turned around and scanned the living room, seeing neither Greg nor Melissa. I walked to the other side of the room and into the foyer area. I looked to my left. The bathroom door was open, and inside it was dark. I went up the stairs and turned left. The master bedroom was empty. The upstairs bathroom was empty. The guest bedroom was empty. I turned around and spotted the door to the other, unfinished guest bedroom. I walked back down the hallway and threw open the door. That room was also empty. I returned to the master bedroom and opened the closet door. The closet was completely filled with clothes. I ran to the guest bedroom and opened the closet door there, but all it contained were some suitcases.

Sure that the second floor was empty, I bounded back down the stairs. I peered into the study, but nothing had changed. Mark and Cindy were hitting some balls around the table and Brian was staring at the end of his pool cue. "The garage," I thought. Going through the living room, I looked at each face. Approaching the dining room, once again I noticed the black high heels at rest under the dining table. And there, on a dining chair between the table and the kitchen island, sat Melissa, her head down, hair covering her face, and her feet tucked underneath the chair.

"Where'd you go?" I asked immediately.

"That pot hit her pretty hard," answered Greg from inside the kitchen.

Ignoring him, I asked Melissa, "Are you OK?"

"I think she'll be OK. We just went out back so she could get some air. I think she has some motion sickness."

"Is that right?" I asked Melissa.

She nodded, but didn't look up. With my hand I brushed the long brown locks of hair away from her face and to her back, revealing her neck and shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed. So was her neck. I placed a gentle finger under her chin and raised her head so I could see her eyes. She leaned back to a normal seated position, and then I could see her chest was flushed, too. Her eyes were glassy and appeared distant. The pupils were totally dilated. She smiled weakly.

"I'll be OK," she whispered. "The fresh air helped. I don't feel dizzy now. But I think I have to go to the bathroom. I'm not sure."

"Well, if you're not sure, then you probably must. Here, I'll help you."

"I can walk."

"OK. Well, I'll walk next to you just in case."

"Fine."

I walked behind her through the living room, and she seemed to be able to walk straight. As I stood and waited outside the bathroom door beneath the staircase, the front door opened, and in walked Lisa, followed by Chris, who carried two bags of cubed ice.

Lisa beamed a smile at me. "What's up? You know there's an upstairs bathroom you can use, right?"

"I'm just waiting on Melissa. The brownies got her a little motion sick, I think."

Turning to Chris, Lisa said, "Can you run those into the kitchen right away?"

"Sure."

Lisa approached and whispered, "Is she going to be OK?" She seemed genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, she'll be fine. I've been there. It passes."

Then she whispered, "Besides that, is she going to be...OK?" She glanced toward the living room and then grabbed my crotch and rubbed my cock a couple times before letting go and stepping back.

"God I hope so."

Lisa smiled at the compliment. "Why are you already hard?" she whispered.

I shrugged and smiled. Lisa shrugged, too, mockingly, then walked away and toward the kitchen.

She had asked a great question. Why was I aroused? When did that start? I retraced my steps. Did my dick get hard when I brushed Lisa's hair away from her face? No, it was already hard by then. Was it hard when I was searching the rooms upstairs? Yes, it was hard. Was it hard when I first entered the kitchen and saw it empty? No, it was not hard at that time. But then I remembered that the arousal began when that feeling of alarm set in.

"Why would that feeling of alarm make your dick begin to harden?" I asked myself. "Well," I answered, "it wasn't so much that I suddenly didn't know where my wife was. It was that I didn't know where she and Greg both were." "Why would that cause your dick to get hard?" I asked myself. "It's obvious," I answered, "I thought that my wife was fucking Greg." I reconsidered. "No, that's not what I was thinking. I trust her." "But what about her flushed cheeks, flushed neck, and flushed chest?" "That's the pot. That's the motion sickness. I've seen that before." "Is that what you've seen? I thought you've seen people go pale when they get motion sickness, rather than become flushed." "Everyone reacts differently," I rationalized. "And she gets flushed fairly easily." "Does she? When have you seen her get so red?" "Whenever she exercises. And whenever we have sex." "Is that it?" "There are other times, I'm sure. I just can't think of them right now." "Why was her hair down?" "I don't know. Why was her hair down?"