The Bike Club Pub

Callie came by my house early that evening, and she looked great, all tanned and fit from having done a lot hiking and rock climbing now that ski season was over. We talked for a little while, and I told her all about Lauren and about my new job. She was happy for me and told me she was looking forward to meeting Lauren.

Then, we drove over to pick Lauren up, and the moment she saw Callie she was transformed. I had never seen her like this before. Talk about jealousy rearing its ugly head! While she may not have been overtly rude to Callie, she made it clear to her that she was not to get anywhere near me. I don't know how that would have been possible anyway because throughout the party, Lauren was hanging all over me.

I didn't see Lauren drinking all that much while we were there, but within an hour or two at the most, she was acting as if she was so drunk that she couldn't stand up without me there to lean on.

It would have been a really fun party, but Lauren's behavior was nothing short of an atrocious embarrassment, and it only made it worse that Callie was there to witness it all. Finally, I knew I had to get Lauren out of there... immediately.

I told her we were leaving, but that I needed to talk to Callie before we left to make sure that she could get a ride back to my house. Lauren wasn't going to let me even do that, until I got mad and told that I would leave her there alone, if she didn't give me two minutes to talk to Callie. Finally, she relented.

Callie was amazing, as always, apologizing profusely for being "a third wheel" and assuring me that I shouldn't worry about her. A friend of mine promised me that he would give her a ride back to my place whenever she was ready to go, and I gave her the key to my house. She said she was having a great time, and that she was grateful that I had brought her to the party. We hugged goodbye, and I told her that I hoped to see her again before she left town. Though I talked to her on the phone several more times, that night was the last time in my life that I ever saw Callie Hayes.

I went back to Lauren, who was unable to get up from the couch on her own. That was probably a good thing, because had she been able to, she probably would have attacked Callie when she saw me hug her goodbye. I finished my beer that I'd left sitting on the end table next to Lauren, and it tasted strangely. I didn't think much about it, because I was trying to figure out the best way to get Lauren out of that house and into my car with the fewest number of people possible witnessing the ugliness.

I managed to get her into the car, back to her apartment, and up the fire escape without her getting hurt. Once I got her to her bedroom, I laid her down on the bed and removed her shoes, blouse, and jeans. Then, I realized that she was wearing the bodystocking that I had given her. That was the last thing I wanted at that moment. I had half a mind to put her to sleep and drive back to the party to be with Callie. But I soon realized that wasn't even a remote possibility.

All of a sudden I began to feel it. I was dizzy, and I could barely sit up. I thought about it briefly, and then remembered the strange bitterness in my beer. "Lauren, did you put something in my beer?" Silence. "Goddamn it, Lauren, did you put something in my beer?"

"Relax; I've had twice as much as you've had, and you're a lot bigger." She had her head on the pillow, and she was slurring her words.

"Fuck, Lauren, what was it?"

"Just a little Nembutal."

"Why the fuck would you put downers in my drink? For that matter, why would you take downers?"

"I had to get you away from her somehow," she slurred. That was the only thing I could think of!"

"Jesus Christ, Lauren. She's just a friend, a good friend that probably never wants to see me again. Why would you do that? Why would you sabotage someone else's friendship?"

She didn't say anything for quite a while. We both knew the answer to my question anyway. We all suffer from at least one of the seven deadly sins. I suppose mine was lust. Lauren's was obviously envy. Finally, after a minute or two, she spoke. "Come here and lay down with me. I'll make it up to you."

"Jesus, I don't want you to make it up to me." Then, my head really started swimming. I had had several beers, and now all at once everything was hitting me. "Christ, I'm fucked up," I said out loud.

I didn't want to, because I was really mad at Lauren, but I had to lie down next to her on the bed. If I didn't, I think I would have fallen off it. And as soon as my head hit the pillow, she was all over me. I don't remember a lot of what happened -- the whole evening from that point forward was a blur -- but a few foggy memories of that bizarre night stand out.

I remember that Lauren began kissing my face and neck, then tearing off my shirt, and making her way down my chest until she reached my jeans. Then, she somehow managed to pull my shoes off, unbuckled my belt, unzipped my zipper, and got my jeans and my shorts off me as well.

Soon, she had me in her mouth, and despite my wooziness, I was somehow getting hard. As long as I was lying down, I was okay. Pretty soon, Lauren moved next to me, and before I knew what was happening, she had swung her leg over my chest, and just as I felt her mouth around my stiffening cock again, she was lowering her pussy to my face.

There wasn't much I could do except try to enjoy what was happening, so once Lauren started grinding her sex against my face, I did my best to lick her slick pussy lips. I don't even know how it happened, but sometime later -- I have no idea how long -- Lauren was cumming, grinding her drenched cunt all over my face, and screaming her usual string of obscenities.

The next thing I remember was Lauren on top of me, riding me to another orgasm. She seemed somehow revived by our sex acts, gaining energy and enthusiasm as the night went on. Meanwhile, while she had made me hard as a rock, for the longest time, I couldn't concentrate long enough to actually cum.

It seemed like hours later, I remember being on top of Lauren, pounding away as deeply as possible in her pussy, and her urging me on with a barrage of blue language, "Come on, fuck me you bastard! Give me that fucking cum, Tom! I want your spunk all over me! Don't fucking hold back, you asshole! Pound that big fucking dick in my pussy! I'm close again! Goddamn it, I'm close again! Give it to me! Give it to me!"

I don't remember how long it took me, but then I remember she was jacking me off and I was screaming loudly, "Fuck, fuck, oh fuck," and then I was cumming on her face.

And then there were only a few more things that I remember, and by this time, it must have been late, really late, because it was just starting to get light outside. Lauren had gotten up from the bed and went somewhere, and then when she came back, I remember her sucking me off and getting me really hard again.

And all of sudden, she was rubbing something on my dick, and I was behind her, and then next thing I knew I was fucking her ass, and she was screaming again, "Yeah, fuck my ass, Tom! Keep fucking my tight ass! Oh my god, Tom, your fucking cock is huge in my ass! Oh Jesus, I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" And the next thing, I remember I was cumming again; I was shooting my load in Lauren's ass. And the last thing I remember was kind of collapsing on top of her, falling onto the bed spooned together my cock still in her ass, and then I don't remember anything else. We must have fallen asleep like that.

When I woke up in the morning, at first I didn't remember the night before. Lauren was still sleeping, and she looked really peaceful. Despite my dried cum all over her face and pillow, she actually looked really beautiful. I thought about waking her up, but her face was so angelic, I couldn't do it.

And then it all started to come back to me, and remembering what had happened, I wanted to get the hell out of there. I was really mad at Lauren for everything that she had done the night before -- maybe even madder that she thought that she could make up for it by fucking my brains out.

It was weird, but physically I felt surprisingly okay. I thought I would have a horrible hangover, but I didn't. I hadn't really had that much to drink, though the Nembutal mixed with the beers had made me feel really drunk, especially when I first arrived back at Lauren's apartment.

So I decided I would get dressed and just leave. But when I peeled the covers back to get out of bed, I could see the remnants of the previous night, and let's just say, it was not pretty sight! I walked naked to the shower, washed and rinsed myself off, and then I dressed quickly and left.

And that night changed everything about my relationship with Lauren. She tried to apologize to me, saying she knew that it was wrong to have drugged me, and even acknowledging that it was pretty rotten to have made me ditch my friend at a party where she didn't know a soul. But she also intimated that she was trying to protect what she considered to be hers, and so through some bizarre rationalization, she was justified.

And that was what actually ruined things for me. I could have forgiven Lauren for giving me drugs that I had no intention to consume. I could have forgiven her for trying to keep me away from Callie. I could have forgiven her for embarrassing me in front of a lot of people with whom I was good friends. But I couldn't forgive her for assuming that I belonged to her, that I was her possession, that she owned me.

Lauren had been my girlfriend, and I was happy to acknowledge that to everyone I knew. And though we had never really had a discussion about being exclusive in our relationship, I hadn't strayed from her, and I had no intentions to do so either. It wasn't that I was some staunch moralist, but as long as she was good with fucking me and me only, I was good with fucking her and her only. But that wasn't the same thing as an engagement or a marriage.

And that was apparently Lauren's conception of our relationship, and so I began to distance myself from her. It wasn't that I had nothing to do with her -- that was impossible, because we worked together. But I just stopped calling her, and when I gave her a ride home after work, I began to turn down her invitations to come inside. I know I should have talked to her, should have explained myself and where I was coming from, but I somehow couldn't force myself to do so. And in so doing, I unleashed a hellcat.

The fact was neither of us was really very communicative, and so even though I had never actually acknowledged that we were broken up, for all intents and purposes we were. And so for the next few months, we both acted that way. She quit working for the last month of the summer and moved to the other end of the state. I found out from an old friend that she had taken up with some guy that was friends with Kayla. She was apparently living with him. That was her prerogative, and it didn't really bother me.

Then, when the fall semester started up, Lauren came back to school and got her job back at The Bike Club Pub. Pretty soon, I found out that she was fucking Greg Heiberger, one of the bartenders. Greg was a good guy, and I couldn't really expect him to leave her alone, considering the fact that she was clearly no longer my girlfriend. But it kind of hurt my feelings anyway that she was going to take up with someone right in front of me.

But then after a few months, I found out that she started to do to Greg what she had done to me, tried to trap him into committing to her, and he reacted similarly -- he just started avoiding her. And so that chased Lauren back to me. She started flirting with me again, inviting me over to her house after work, and even though I knew I probably shouldn't have, I was so horny that I started sleeping with again.

But this time, there was no commitment whatsoever on the part of either one of us. I would show up at her apartment whenever I was horny, would sneak up the fire escape, like the Tomcat that I fully acknowledge I had become, and would climb into bed with her, and we would fuck, just fuck, the whole night long.

But then in the middle of me pounding her pussy or ramming her ass, she would start calling me "Greg" or "Jim" -- I found out Jim was the guy that she'd lived with during the previous summer. One time when our fucking was getting particularly heated, she started calling me the name of some other guy I had never heard of.

She wasn't drunk or high so why was she calling me someone else's name? And so I decided to call her on it. When I asked her, she denied that she had ever called me any name other than "Tom." I knew she was lying, but there was no way I could prove it, nor did it matter all that much what she had called me. Unbeknownst to me, it was during this time that she started seeing Greg Heiberger again.

I found that out one Monday night a good year after I had first started at The Bike Club Pub when Greg Heiberger invited me out for drinks. Neither one of us had to work that night. Since we had always gotten along pretty well -- I considered him a friend -- it really wasn't all that unusual that he asked me to meet him. I certainly hadn't intended to talk to Greg about Lauren that night, but if I recall correctly, he brought it up.

What was kind of unusual was that he started the conversation by using a line that I remembered using myself in one of my earliest conversations with Lauren. "Normally, I don't kiss and tell," he said to me, "and I figured you're probably the same way, but I wanted to ask you about some things that Lauren has done or said to me when we've been in bed together."

"Okay, just so long as you don't get too personal."

"No, like I said, it's not my style to talk to other people about my sex life or theirs, but I know that you and Lauren were sleeping together before she and I started doing so. Anyway -- god, I know this is weird -- I wondered if she has ever called you someone else's name when you were having sex."

"Wow!" I said kind of amazed. "I might have asked you the exact same question. The answer is yes, and one of the names that she has called me was yours!"

"Jesus, that's what I was afraid of! She's called me your name, too!"

"Has she ever used any other's guy's names?"

"Yes!"

"Was she drunk or fucked up in any way when she did this?" I asked.

"No, not really! But I really think she did it on purpose."

"That's what I had thought too, and now I'm certain of it. Jesus, Greg, I think she's trying to make each of us jealous of the other person. She's got some weird issues with jealousy, and I think she's projecting her own issues onto the two of us -- trying to make us as jealous as she is."

"That's kind of what I thought, but here's what I really wanted to ask you about, and it's really awkward. I really don't want to bring it up, and trust me, I'm not trying to get you involved, but I just need to know something from you before I can figure out what I should do."

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Have you had sex with Lauren at all in the last few months? Like I said, I'm embarrassed to ask, but it's kind of important."

"Yes, I have; why do you ask?"

"Jesus, this embarrassing, but I have to ask you one more thing, and then I'll explain everything. When you've had sex with Lauren recently, did you, I mean you yourself, use birth control?"

"No. Lauren has always been on the pill. I've seen her take it."

"So have I. But here's the deal. She came to me the other day and told me that she's pregnant, and that I'm the father! That didn't seem right to me for a couple of different reasons, but if I tell her that I don't believe her, I look really bad, and who knows maybe she is! But even if she is, how does she know that I'm responsible?"

"Jesus Christ!" I was stunned, but like Greg, I wasn't sure of what to make of it.

"I think she might be playing me, Tom. Just like when she calls me your name. I think this might be some kind of test, or some way to force me into a commitment to her. Look, I'm pretty sure she's on the pill, and even though I suppose she could have stopped taking it, or even if she was still taking it, I suppose she could have had an accident. But even if she really is pregnant, how do I know that I'm the father, not you or somebody else?"

"You don't."

"Well, it gets even more complicated than that. She says she wants to get an abortion, and she wants to know if I will give her money to get one."

"Oh my god!"

"Look, it's not about the money, and I don't think she's some kind of a grifter, but aside from the moral issues, I just don't know whether this is real or not, and either way, I don't know the implications no matter what I decide to do. If I give her the money, what message am I sending to her? On the other hand, if I don't give her the money, what message am I sending then? I get the feeling that she's trying to gauge my commitment to her, and my decision to give or not to give her money is going to tell her something about me."

"Jesus Christ, Greg! I don't know what to tell you, but I think you're right about two things. One, I don't think she's after your money, but two, I do think there's a pretty decent chance that this is some kind of a test. What are you thinking of doing?"

"I don't know yet. If I give her the money, I'm not an asshole, but I'm telling her I'm interested in staying with her. Don't get me wrong, I like Lauren, but I'm not interested in staying with her -- there's just too much weird shit going in between that girl's ears! If I don't give her the money, I'm an asshole who may or may not be leaving a girl with a problem that I may or may not be responsible for. But if that's the case, at least I'm free of her without having to tell her that I think she's a liar."

"Yeah, I think you've assessed the choices pretty accurately. I wish I could help you. Will you do me a favor though?"

"What's that?"

"Will you tell me what you decided to say to her? I'm not trying to pry into your personal life, Greg, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm next, and what you say to her, will help me to know what I need to do. I promise you that if she starts talking to me about this, you'll be the first to know."

"Okay. That sounds fair. I'm going to talk to her tomorrow before work. I'll find some way to tell you tomorrow night."

The next night both Greg and Lauren were working, and I could tell by the way that both of them were acting that something had happened between them. Based on the way that Lauren was glaring at Greg, I suspected I knew what he had said to her.

Later, in the evening, I asked Greg to help me restock the bar liquors, and so we went upstairs to the storage room together. When we got there, Greg told me what he'd done -- he had told Lauren he wasn't sure that he was responsible, and that for that reason, he wasn't going to give her any money. As could have been expected, she was livid, told him to fuck off, and that she never wanted to see him again.

Later that night, after I had locked the front door, a few of us gathered for some after work drinks. Greg was not among the participants. As soon as he clocked out, he said goodbye and headed out the back door. Lauren had two drinks with Kayla and me. Mark stopped in for a round himself so he could give Kayla a ride back to his place. I finished with the bank deposit, and on the way out the door, Lauren asked me for a ride home.

Of course, I said yes, and when we got there, I wasn't surprised when Lauren invited me upstairs. Once we were inside the apartment, she quickly made clear her intentions, dropping to her knees in the middle of the living room, to remove my pants and shorts, before taking me into her mouth and then deep into her throat. She was more attentive to my pleasure that night than any other time we had been together. For the first time in our more than year-old relationship, I climaxed before she did, and Lauren made sure that I blew my whole load in her mouth.