The Ultimatum

Maybe I should grab her, bend her over the kitchen table, show her how horny she had made me. But she was probably tired, and more penetration was probably the last thing she needed after last night's activity. I could still feel the sticky remnants of the come stains I'd made in my pants this morning, and felt slightly disgusted.

"Yes, sure," I said, forgetting the idea of taking her over the kitchen table like some horny teenager. "I'll go get changed."

Lee would have taken her, a voice in my brain whispered to me. As soon as he felt the slightest bit horny, he would have bent her over the kitchen table and fucked her. Probably right in front of the window for the whole world to see.

I shut the thought out of my head and went up to get dressed.

#

We continued like that for the rest of the weekend. Neither of us was brave enough to initiate the conversation, but what had happened was always there, sitting awkwardly between us. I tried to think back to how it had been before. It seemed like we had always talked - conversation had always been easy and fun - but maybe that was just my imagination. Maybe these awkward, difficult silences had always existed between us.

A few times over the weekend I found myself thinking about what I'd seen that night, replaying those images over and over again in my head. My dick throbbed. I wanted to go to her, grab her, have my way with her - tell her she had been a slut and that I'd loved every single minute of it.

I didn't. I couldn't tell if she was upset, embarrassed, or hugely pissed off, or some combination of those feelings. I decided to let her cool down for a few days, then we could talk it through.

On Monday, we were both back to work. Breakfast together first - well, sitting at the kitchen table at the same time. No words exchanged. Then the rest of the day passed the same as it always had, except that occasionally, when I was bored, I would find my thoughts drifting back to what had happened, playing it over in my head: seeing her take as much of Lee's cock as she could; then greedily swallowing the pretty boy; then taking charge of the kid and showing him ecstasy; then the old guy having his way with her. My dick throbbed in my pants, demanding attention. I'd have to take deep breaths, concentrate, re-focus on work.

I got back late Monday evening. I ate and then slumped in front of the TV. I was too tired to have the conversation: it would have to wait until another day.

The rest of the week passed in exactly the same way, just a daily grind of work, chores, and admin. It seemed less and less important. The memories were already beginning to fade. No doubt, there were some specific images that would be burned into my mind for years to come, but I couldn't remember many of the details as clearly now. I couldn't quite recall the exact pitch of her voice as she'd been screaming in the next room.

Then suddenly it was Friday night again. No plans for this weekend - certainly nothing like last weekend. Friday night just chilling out in front of the TV; a visit to Harriet's parents on Saturday; then a chilled-out Sunday (maybe a roast at a local pub), and then it would all start again the week after. But tonight - tonight I was going to do what I'd been dreaming about all week: I was going to fuck her. I may not have a dick like Lee's but I was going to poke her with it again and again and again. She'd never screamed for me the way she had for Lee, but tonight I was determined.

We ate dinner and I went and dropped onto the sofa and flicked on the TV while she was doing the dishes. I flicked through the channels but nothing caught my interest. Nothing could distract me from my plan, or from the erection that had formed in my pants.

Harriet came out of the kitchen and went straight upstairs, probably to slip into her pyjamas - or maybe something more provocative. Maybe she was thinking the same as me. She must certainly have noticed how I'd been looking at her tonight: hungry, like I'd devour her if she got too close.

Having seen what she was capable of last week, I was in fact hoping she would be the one doing the devouring tonight.

I waited in front of the TV, again replaying the images from last weekend, letting them wash over me. I didn't touch myself - I didn't want to ruin what was about to happen.

At some point, I realised I'd been waiting for over an hour. I went upstairs to find out what was taking so long.

Our bedroom door was shut. I turned the handle and swung the door open gently... And there she was, tucked up under the quilt, sound asleep. I could hear the faint sound of her snoring.

It was only 8pm. Sometimes she suffered migraines and she would take a pill and go to bed this early. I wondered if that's what had happened. Usually she would have said something, but we hadn't really been talking to be fair. Or maybe I was reading too much into it.

My erection still raged in my trousers. I wondered how she would react if I woke her up.

Then I went back downstairs, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and slumped back on to the sofa. I drank deep, then set it to one side.

I unbuckled my belt and jerked myself off, coming within about thirty seconds. I used the downstairs bathroom to clean myself up, then went back to the TV. At least I wouldn't have to sit here all night with a hard-on trying to burst through my pants.

I wasn't paying much attention to what I'd put on the TV - an action movie of some kind. Not great, but it kept my brain amused. That, along with the beers, which I replaced with a fresh, cold one every half hour or so.

Just after ten, there was a knock at the front door.

I jolted in my seat, beer still in hand. That couldn't be right, I thought. I must have imagined it - that couldn't have been a knock, not at this time.

As if responding to my thought, the sharp rapping sound came again. Yes, it was definitely a knock at the door.

I stood up and peered out towards the door suspiciously, wondering who it could be at this time. I took a few tentative steps, faltered, and then stepped again. I wanted to call out, ask who was there, but it didn't seem manly somehow to be afraid of answering my own door. It was probably a pizza delivery guy at the wrong address, anyway.

I took the final few steps and swung the door open quickly.

Standing there, feet planted and swaying slightly, was Lee. He was looking down at his feet, but as the door swung open he looked up and grinned. His eyes were fuzzy. "Hey mate!" he said, getting the pitch all wrong and speaking far too loud. He was clearly drunk. He was dressed the same as the week before: scruffy blue jeans, a green polo shirt, black boots.

"Lee?" I asked. I looked down at myself, just feeling glad that I wasn't wearing the bunny pyjamas tonight. "What are you doing here?"

"Just on my way home from the pub - thought I'd pop by and say hi."

"Oh. Right."

"You gonna invite me in?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh right, yeah - come in."

I stepped aside and he walked in, carefully navigating his way over the doorstep, looking quite unsteady.

"Go through," I said to him. "I've got beer if you want one?"

He grinned at me again. "Yeah, if you don't mind sharing."

"Of course not." I had to get one for myself anyway.

I shut the front door and watched him walk into the living room. He looked all around and then seated himself on the sofa. The same position he'd been in last week, I thought. I went to the kitchen, grabbed two beers from the fridge, and then took them into the living room.

"Cheers!" Lee said as I handed the can over to him. He opened it and drank.

I did the same, at a considerably slower pace. Then I placed the can onto the table beside me.

"So how you been, buddy?" he asked. "Had a good week?"

"Yeah," I said, shrugging my shoulders slightly. "Yeah it was okay. Just work - busy, you know." There was a pause for a moment and I added: "Yours?"

He nodded and took another swig from his drink. "Same, same. It's all about work, innit. Day in, day out - the grind."

"You run your own business, right?"

He nodded again. "Certainly do. Money's okay, but it'd be much easier just working for someone. Can't wake up in the morning and call a sickie, can't close the doors and the blinds and lock myself away if I'm not feeling up to it, or if I don't want to deal with life. You know how it gets sometimes. But I just have to get on with it. Can't let it all fall apart. Not just for me - the other lads too. What would they do without me to give them work and let them earn their wage?"

What a hero.

"Were you out with the other guys tonight?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but they've always had enough by ten o'clock. Ed's got a family - wife, kids, the whole lot - and Dave's one of those exercise freaks. He's out running on Saturday mornings, or in the gym, that kind of thing. Last week was just an exception."

I didn't know what else to say, and I couldn't skirt around the issue any longer. "Lee, why did you come here?"

He sighed and looked away from me. His smile faltered. "I thought we were mates. I just thought I'd come see how things are going."

I almost felt sorry for him. Could he really be that lonely? He was loud and he was brash and he was full of banter and bullshit, but was that all an act? He went out with his work buddies every Friday night, but maybe he knew they weren't really his friends. They only went out with him because they felt they had to, because they felt it would affect their job if it didn't.

"Oh. Right."

"So where's Harriet tonight?" he asked.

"She's asleep," I told him. "She's had a busy week as well. She wanted to get an early night."

He nodded. "How did things work out with you guys after last week? All good?"

I had a flashback to when he'd first arrived last week, both of us in almost exactly the same position - how he had leaned over to me: You don't stop any of this from happening or I'll break your fucking face. Something like that, anyway. I could remember the intense, sincere look in his eyes: he had meant it.

"Yes, everything is cool," I said. I certainly wasn't going to go into the details with him - and anyway, I was sure everything was fine. Or would be, anyway. We just hadn't talked it out yet.

"Maybe I should go up and say hi to her?" he mused.

Of course. This was nothing to do with his crippling loneliness. It wasn't a cry for help. And he wasn't some weird guy who didn't understand social boundaries and believed that we had become friends after last week's activities. He was just horny. He had been out drinking, thought about Harriet - probably the whole group would have talked about her at some length - then on the way home decided that he was going to pop in to see if he could have his way with her again.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea," I said. "She's sound asleep."

"I'm sure she is, but I'm not asking her to go to a party - just thought she'd at least want me to say hi, since I'm here."

"I don't think she'll want that at all. She doesn't like being woken up."

"Then I'm sure she'll tell me to go away," he said, chuckling. There was a moment of silence and then placed his beer on the table. "Yes, I'm just gonna run upstairs and let her know that I popped in."

He didn't move right away. His eyes lost that drunken fuzziness that had been there before. He watched me, gauging my reaction, as if daring me to tell him no again.

I reached for my drink and took a sip.

Lee stood up and left the room. I heard his boots on the stairs, then silence as he (presumably) opened the bedroom door and walked in. Gently shaking Harriet's shoulder, no doubt. She'd wake up, wide-eyed, shocked to see him there. A little scared, probably. He'd whisper to her, tell her he had just popped by to say hello.

She'd nod, tell him that was nice of him, then tell him he should leave.

We'd probably argue once he was gone. I could already hear her scolding me: "This is exactly I didn't want to do it - this is the kind of thing that can happen!"

I wandered out to the hallway, ready to open the door and direct Lee out.

I peered up the staircase. No movement up there. I took a few steps toward the staircase, wondering...

And then I heard Harriet giggling.

So it was going to be like that, I thought. I went back to the living room and picked up my beer, drank deep, then went to the fridge for another. I tried not to think about what was happening up in the bedroom - but at the same time, it was the only think I could about.

I watched TV for another hour and a half, on mute, returning to the fridge for another beer whenever the current on ran low.

And then finally there was movement. Someone coming down the stairs.

From my vantage point on the sofa, I looked out into the hallway as Lee came into view, no longer staggering now - swaggering was a better word. He took wide, confident strides. He polo shirt had been put on in a hurry and the collar was up on one side. He took his hand off the banister and ran it through his short hair. He let out a long breath as he got to the bottom of the stairs, saw me watching him from the living room, and flashed a big grin at me.

He winked, then reached down his hands and zipped his flies - extravagantly, the way a mime would do it. Just to make sure I understood exactly what that motion meant.

Then he raised a hand a gave a little wave. "Great seeing you again, mate," he called. "See you next time."

Then he went out the front door, closing it behind him with a click.

I stared back. Next time?

#

I slept in the spare room again that night, not wanting to disturb her. I drank way too much and stayed up way too late, and woke up near lunchtime. Harriet had had her breakfast. She had cleaned, showered, and was dressed and ready for a trip to see her parents.

Saturday passed in a blur.

In many ways, she seemed like her normal, happy self. She made jokes, she chatted with her mother and father. But none of what she said was directed towards me. Her dad talked to me, her mum invited my participation on some of the subjects, but Harriet didn't. At all. She didn't even look at me when she spoke. As far as she was concerned, I may as well have not been there.

Had she even wanted it do it last night? I wondered. Or had she gone along with it just because she thought I'd invited Lee round and sent him up?

I decided then that I wasn't going to let it happen again. It wasn't fair on Harriet. And I couldn't live like this, with her not talking to me, not looking at me.

#

Friday came again and Harriet went to bed early. I had got the beers in: they were in the fridge, chilling, sparkling.

I already knew what I would say if he turned up again tonight. I had thought it all through.

Harriet had been quiet all week. She had enjoyed what happened - enjoyed all of it, that was clear. But she had only gone through with it in the first place because it was what I'd wanted.

I hadn't talked to her about it yet but I was going to make sure we'd discuss it this weekend. First, I had to deal with Lee. If he did turn up tonight, anyway. Maybe I'd even take his phone number and promise to call him if we decided to do anything like it again.

Yes, that's what I'd do, I thought, taking a swig of my beer.

There was another Friday-night action movie on the TV, but I wasn't watching. I was wondering if Lee was going to turn up, and how drunk he would be if he did.

And then the knock on the door came. I stood up slowly. It wasn't a surprise, but somehow it didn't seem real. I was shaking, I realised, as I began to walk out to the door.

I took a deep breath and then took big confident strides, as if he was watching me approach somehow. I practised the words over in my head: No. Go away. It was a one-off and it's over now.

I swung the door open and he was standing there, looking at me with his eyes narrowed and a big smile on his face. He didn't seem anywhere near as drunk as he had been last week - that'd most likely make this easier, I thought to myself.

"Hi buddy! How's it going?" he chirped. He didn't wait for me to invite him in, as I'd rehearsed in my head. I'd imagined myself holding the door tight, telling him he couldn't come in. But there was no request here - he just stepped forward. The only way I could refuse now was if I physically pushed him backwards.

I stepped back and moved out of the way, opening the door wide and stepping to the side to make room for him.

"Er, yeah," I said. I half-hid behind the door, gripping the door handle.

"Where's Harriet? Another early night?"

"Yeah," I croaked, feeling my grip tighten on the door handle. I looked down and saw that my knuckles had turned white.

"I think I'll go up and say hello."

I pounced, side-stepping quickly so that I was between him and the staircase. He didn't flinch; just looked at me, his eyes widening slightly and his pupils narrowing, focusing. I could almost feel his body tense.

"No," I said. The word sounded weak, so I cleared my throat and repeated it, stronger this time. "No. I don't want you to." I steeled myself for an angry rebuke.

"It's really about what she wants though, isn't it," he said.

I didn't know how to answer that. I hadn't expected a discussion of this kind - I thought he might get angry and shout or holler, but not this. I opened my mouth, stuttered a few incoherent syllables, and then closed it.

"Here's what I'll do," he said, his tone softening into a placatory, reasonable tone. "I'll go up, say hi, and ask her if she's okay with me visiting? If she's not happy about it, if there's any hesitation, I'll leave. After all - it's her decision."

I tried to find a way to object, but he sounded so reasonable about the whole thing.

"Fine," I said, deflated, moving out of his way.

"Cheers buddy," he said, and then bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time.

I closed the front door slowly, cocking my head to one side to listen. I heard him knock softly, then the familiar creak as he opened the bedroom door. Then their hushed tones, but there was no way I'd be able to make out any actual words.

I would go back to the sofa, slump in front of the TV. If he didn't come back down in three or four minutes, it would obviously mean she had accepted his advances.

Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of a high-pitched shout. "No! Get off me!" Harriet.

This was followed by a piercing shriek.

My body reacted before my mind had time to process what I'd heard. I bounded into a sprint. My heart pounded in my chest and my temples thudded. I was up the stairs in three large leaps, and then barged at the bedroom door. The door crashed open and banged into the wall. Splinters drifted to the floor. There was a stool in the middle of the floor, next to the dressing table, and I almost crashed right into it.

I looked to the bed, and there was Lee, sitting fully-clothed. He was cackling, holding his stomach as the laughter ripped through him. Next to him, sitting under the quilt in just her underwear, was Harriet. She didn't look at all as though she had been desperately fighting off Lee's advances. Her eyes glinted with amusement and there was a slight smile on her face.

She didn't look at me - her gaze was fixed on Lee. It was also clear that she had been waiting for him: she had applied a light touch of make-up, and she was wearing lacy white bra and knickers. Her hair was down and slightly mussed, though this added to the sultry look.

I breathed heavily, in and out, in and out, feeling my blood pressure lower with each breath, the pure full-on panic that had been steaming through my system now slowly seeping out, releasing the pressure.