Triple Threat

Change can happen so suddenly.

I'm twenty-six years old, and I live alone in a one bedroom apartment in Manhattan. In all honesty, I'm a ladies man. A bit of a man whore. Kind of like Joey Tribbiani, only I have no acting ability. I used to go from bar to bar and cafe to cafe and bookstore to bookstore scoring numbers. I'd be having sex about six times a week, never speaking to the women I slept with again. Of course they were hurt, and of course I didn't really mind. It was no skin off my back.

The women I picked up varied in sexual ability. In general it ranged from terrible to okay. Honestly, I just needed something to fill up my nights. A few good investments had me living easy, so I had no workdays. I was at least smart enough not to waste my money on an apartment I didn't need with a lot of other useless shit. So if my math was correct, I'd be just fine for the next five years. So I decided to spend that time enjoying life before my prime was over.

My sex life was monogamous for respective nights. One girl, one orgasm for each of us, goodnight. They wanted more than one, because I could certainly give it to them, but it was up to me. Besides, after one, they could say they were satisfied. Very satisfied.

Over the period of one week, I would develop from having one girl to two to three. Not only that, but I would find myself enjoying life at its fullest like I never had before.

**********

I wake up at 8:00 in the morning. My bed is directly in the center of the room with about five feet between it and the wall on all sides. The walls are blank. There are two lamps in the back corners of the room on night tables. In the drawer of the back right table I keep my glasses. In the drawer of the back left table I keep a copy of a book that I haven't bothered to read yet. The front right corner has the door, and from the front left to the door is the closet. I have all my suits organized in intervals so that I don't wear the same suit twice in ten days. There's just enough space for a little dresser that I keep two pairs of jeans and three white t-shirts in. There's my underwear, my socks, and condoms. More condoms than anything else. On the wall close to the closet a window looks out to the New York street below.

I go through my little routine of showering, getting dressed, and watching the news. I'm out the door at nine o'clock and say good morning to the door man whose name I don't know, though he knows my name. "Good morning Mr. Cameron." He'll say. But I always tell him to call me Gary.

I turn left, left, right, go straight for three blocks, left again, and then I'm at Kallem Kafé. I walk in and order a coffee and a slice of banana bread. I receive these things silently on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays because Lexi, the counter girl, never got a call back from me. But the place is just where I go, so I got used to it. At least I try to be nice to her.

I eat the same bread and drink the same coffee every morning. Rainy days, snowy days, humid days, and days of perfect weather. Banana bread and a mocha brew with vanilla cream and one packet of sugar. I sit there and think of nothing, do nothing but stare at the table and consume. I worked at this slowly and left by 9:30.

This was when I got open range to go wherever for however long. The easy place to go was Central Park. There are different women everywhere with similar personalities. There was plenty of variety, though. The nature lovers, the yoga fanatics, the running athletes, the soccer athletes, the college seniors, the first-time visitors. But my favorite was always the tourist. She would be there with family or friends or whoever. That's what made it fun.

But again, Central Park is the easy place to go. The really easy place to go is the bar. What could be easier than the girls who drink with their friends and practically throw themselves at the men they deem attractive? And boy am I attractive - according to nearly every woman I've fucked. And my mother; I'm her "pumpkin angel".

Then there's the harder locations like the book stores. The women who go there tend to be shy or like to keep to themselves. They're very involved in their books, so there's not much time to get hit on by any kind of man. That book that's in my night table is for just this. I know nothing about it, but I know just enough about its author to score the girl's number.

It works best when she's browsing for books or reading one. I'll slyly place myself close to her and give it a moment, then I'll notice her in a side glance and put myself into her world. I'll ask her about what she's reading. I'm not really listening, and when she's done talking she normally asks who I like to read. I'll tell her about the author as a person, what inspired him to write, where he came from, and then I'll say some bullshit about how I interpret his writing style. She'll just keep listening to me ramble, and I'll eventually ask for her number. After that, I'll go home and throw the book onto my couch opened up to a random page. We'll go out to dinner at a cheap restaurant with nice atmosphere like a pizzeria or something, and when I invite her inside she sees the book. I don't know what it is, but she'll suddenly be naked as soon as she sees it.

That's how it used to be.

**********

DAY ONE: SUNDAY

I woke up at 8:00 in the morning. I slid out of bed and walked to the shower. Then I showered, big surprise. I went back to the bedroom and picked out my Sunday One suit. I went out to the couch and turned on the news. The recent storm hadn't done too much damage, which was certainly good news. Some crime had occurred during it, which surprised me. A few other stories about gas prices and good citizens passed by and I was out the door. I got my banana bread and coffee from the silent Lexi, and left Kallem Kafé. It was a Central Park day for me.

I hailed a cab and got out around Fifth Avenue. I bring a notepad with me and pretend to write so that I'm not some creepy guy watching people at the park. I walked for about twenty minutes before I found an interesting looking girl. She was doing yoga on a blanket by the water. The plan was to wait for her to finish and "accidentally" run into her and somehow bring up my writing.

After about ten minutes, she started gathering her things. I got ready to bump into her. I got off my bench and started walking. She was getting closer and closer, nobody in front of her. But as I passed by a fork in the road, I ran into someone else. She was a girl who was about to take a picture of a building visible from the park. I know because she dropped a camera. I bent down to pick it up for her, and so did she. "Gary?" she said. It was my cousin Marcia.

I was so surprised that what came out was a deadpan, "Yeah?"

"Don't 'yeah' me you big goof! This is crazy! Of all the people I could run into in the Big Apple!"

As I tell you this story, I can't remember what I was thinking when I said this: "No one who lives here calls it the Big Apple."

I hadn't seen Marcia for eight years, which is about the time I moved to the city. My parents threw me a farewell party which she was at, and that was the last time I had seen her. She called me about once a month for the first two years, but the past six have been in random intervals. Now I had bumped into this sandy-haired twenty-four year old woman I called my cousin. Why I was so rude to her I could never explain.

"Listen, Janie and Adrian are here with me. We were going to surprise you but I guess that was ruined." She laughed in her cutest way. "Are you busy? Do you want to come hang out with us, show us around?"

Again, something inside of me just didn't register what was going on. I certainly loved my family, but I didn't want to see them just yet. It may have been the anticipation of the hot yoga girl, but I still believe my words were inexcusable. "Can't you show yourselves around?"

She lost a little bit of her excitement. I was starting to offend her. "Well you live here, can't you show us what's good?"

"I could. But the best way is to find out for yourself."

"Gary is something the matter?"

"Me? No. How are you girls?"

She perked up again at the question. "We're all great! We're so excited to be in the Big Apple! We all..." she rambled for a little bit, and I stopped listening. I looked around and the yoga girl was gone. Then some words caught my ear.

"...and we've all got boyfriends! Mine's name is Kevin, Janie's is Louis, and Adrian's is brand new, his name is Mario, he's from Italy!"

They all had boyfriends. That's when the care kicked back in. I knew who I was, and I feared that these men were like this too.

"Boyfriends, huh?" I said.

"That got you talking! Well yeah, we're all taken ladies now!"

"Did you come with them?"

"No, haha. I guess you can't meet them."

"Well listen," I said with more interest, "I'm not busy tonight, so why don't you three meet me in Times Square at 6:00?"

"That sounds great for the four of us, but I'm thinking that you and I spend time together right now." She said with a hint of control.

"Oh. Okay. Sure, why not? What do you want to do?"

There's two ways to look at that question I asked her. On the one hand, I shouldn't have asked her that because the next couple of hours were a painful montage of shopping and tourism. On the other hand, I wouldn't be where I am now. But when I asked, Marcia got a wicked smile across her face.

**********

Do you know that feeling when you've had such a long day that you just want to faceplant into your bed? That's how I felt at 4:00 p.m. when I got home. Marcia agreed to the Times Square date and I knew I needed rest before I put myself through what could very well be three times the pain. Janie and Adrian were major pains in my ass. I love them of course, but they're three years younger, and that was a major problem for me in high school. They were the kind of girls who always asked questions and kept cramping my style. I lost a lot of opportunities because of them. Chauffeuring them around, dealing with stupid rumors they started about me, and having to beat the shit out of their shitty boyfriends: not my cup of tea.

So I needed to rest before meeting with The Twin Banshees as I used to call them. If the only thing that I was about to experience tonight was screaming, obsessive and girl talk, I would need a lot of willpower to get out of bed again. But I had to do it. I loved these girls, and they wanted to see me. So I just took a nap for an hour and got up, however reluctantly.

I had to change my clothes because my Sunday One suit got all wrinkled from my nap. I was at least smart enough to have my Auxiliary One Suit for such emergencies, so my system didn't get thrown off.

As I walked out the door, I had no thoughts. I had no emotions. Only the feeling of a midday nap still lagging my pace. Little did I know that my life was about to change.

**********

I arrived in Times Square at 5:45 pm. It was pretty crowded after broadway matinees, so I had to call Marcia and tell her to meet me in front of the Bank of America vestibule. They got there before I did. The crowd was thinner over here, so I got a clear view of the girls from about sixty feet away. Like I expected, my girls were still beautiful.

Earlier I forgot to mention Marcia's looks. In high school she was nothing special. She was the even C. Not C- and not C+. Just a C. She wore make up moderately and didn't do much with her hair except at the school dances. Now she was a hardbody. I never found out if she had started working out or what, but in the eight years since I had seen her, she became an A. Not an A+ but certainly an A. Of course, I wasn't thinking of her sexually, so I didn't really notice.

Adrian and Janie were always gorgeous. They were short and cute with shoulder length blonde hair. They had these gorgeous hypnotizing green eyes and nearly perfect smiles. Now Adrian had dyed her hair brown and cut it a bit shorter than Janie's. They looked practically the same after eight years, but now there was an air of maturity about them. At twenty-three, they looked my age. But my did they act the same.

"Ladies!" I yelled above the noise of the city. They all turned around and screamed their girlie screams. All three of them dashed at me and collectively tackle hugged me. I almost fell backwards with the force of three women coming on me all at once. Fortunately my sisters were small enough that my strength withheld.

"Gary! Oh my gosh you look so handsome! Where have you been in our lives? We missed you so much!" I couldn't really tell which girl said what because their voices were the same.

"It's good to see you too ladies." I said with slight sarcasm. They didn't notice.

After about a minute of silent hugging, Adrian broke off. "Clubs. Which ones are good?"

"Why do you want to go to a club? Don't you all have boyfriends now?"

"Gary, haven't you ever seen a girl's night? It's not about getting with guys, it's about teasing the shit out of them and getting hammered."

"That sounds extremely manipulative." I said, ignoring my own lifestyle. But you have to admit, that's a bit cold.

Regardless, I took them to a nearby club that I can't remember the name of, mainly because I never went in through the front door. It was odd how this club had so many people go to it yet it never guarded its back door. So I escorted the ladies inside, and without even a word they all dashed onto the dance floor. Typical, I thought. They wanted to spend time with me so they dash out to be cockteases.

If that was the way they wanted to be, then fine, I'll be typical Gary too. I planted myself at the bar, waiting to order my drink after I'd picked my target. I scanned the place. Not too crowded, it wasn't late enough yet. But there was still a good amount of people enjoying themselves. The flashing lights, green, red, blue, purple, yellow, all the spectral pigments dancing about the room and obscuring faces, it still couldn't block out one face. Marcia's.

As she danced, my eyes locked onto her. I still couldn't believe how much she had changed. She was absolutely gorgeous. Those hips, how they moved with the basic rhythm of the common club song. Somehow her movement made the music and the atmosphere so unique.

I noticed that I was staring at her and I broke my trance. It was weird of me to be staring at my cousin in such a way. I returned to my scanning. Red heads, blondes, brunettes, pink hair dye, none of it mattered that night. It all seemed so bland. Hum drum. But Marcia...

I must have tried pulling my eyes away from her for half an hour before she stopped dancing and came to the bar for the first round of drinks. "Come on, Gary! Show us what you've got," she said.

I looked into her eyes for a quick moment before regaining face and lying, "I don't dance." Of course I danced. If I didn't that would take out a large demographic of women for me to score.

"You do tonight!" she said.

"Not tonight," I returned.

"I'm going to order the four of us drinks. You're going to have yours so you can loosen up and dance with us, okay?"

"I'll drink but I won't guarantee my feet touch the dance floor."

"That's okay," she giggled. "I'll guarantee it for you."

She turned to the bartender to place the order. I stared again. Her confidence glued my gaze to her. It was very much like mine, and I couldn't help but be attracted to her for a fleeting moment. Maybe half a second where I saw myself pressing her against the wall and forcing my mouth onto hers. Her sandy hair brushing against my bare chest as she slid her way down to my-

"Okay, drink up!" she said, handing me what I believe was Vodka Cranberry, the most common of female mixes.

I downed the drink in a quick motion and set the glass on the bar. "Tastes great. Still won't dance."

"Very well," she said. "I'll have to force you then!"

She grabbed my arm and dragged me out onto the floor. I didn't want to completely ruin her night, so I only mildly resisted. At last I was on the dance floor, my dear cousin swaying her hips and dropping to the floor slowly. I rolled my eyes and she stood up straight. "Dance. I'm gonna take the girls to the bar for their drinks. If you leave the dance floor or refuse to dance then we'll spend the whole night talking about our periods."

That was all I needed. I looked down to gather myself, and when I looked up again I was practically Tony Manero. Marcia smiled and grabbed Janie and Adrian to take them to the bar. I lost track of them, but luckily my mind was on dancing, so it didn't bother me too much. I probably danced alone for thirty seconds before a steamy brunette locked eyes with me. She seemed both impressed and aroused by my moves.

She made her way over to me and started to dance with me. At first it was innocent, but before long she turned herself around and pressed her back to my stomach. Her hands on my hips, she subtly rubbed her ass against me. This is the sight that the girls saw when they came back. Marcia glared at the woman, and gave me a hateful look.

I asked the woman to excuse me, and walked back over to my girls. "I'm sorry, she came to me," I said.

"Whatever Gary," Janie said. "Just remember we want to spend time with you."

"That's right," Marcia reinforced. "We're here for you."

"Don't be so mean to him," Adrian said. "We want to make sure he's having fun too, right girls?"

"Oh he will," Marcia said ominously. "Let's dance."

I danced with my girls for quite some time. And I noticed that the brunette was looking over at me, a look of resentment on her face. She wasn't angry at me, more threatened by the women she had no idea were my family.

Time and several drinks passed. The girls did their teasing, getting more and more drunk as the night went on. I was starting to get worried that they would get too drunk and make a stupid mistake. Just when I was about to suggest to Adrian that we shove off, the brunette came to me once again. She grabbed my wrist, obviously much more drunk herself. I had only had one more drink after the first, so my mind was much more stable. I noticed her slightly unbalanced walk. She dragged me through the crowd and I lost track of the girls. Eventually we reached the ladies' restroom, where she pushed me in with a knowing smile.

I hit the wall, expecting her to do precisely what she did. She pressed herself against me and kissed my neck sensually, obviously making a last ditch effort to keep my attention. We hadn't exchanged a word all night and here she was ready to give herself. Naturally, I grabbed her hips and stuck my tongue into her mouth. We engaged in this most basic of sexual activities for a short three minutes before another woman walked into the restroom.

"Gary, what the fuck?!"

I looked up to see Marcia, looking pissed. Not just angry pissed, but drunk pissed. The brunette woman didn't stop. Marcia walked over to her and pulled her off me, and said, "Back the fuck off, bitch!" I thought a fight would start, but the brunette woman just stared. "You wanna fight for him? Is this an attention contest?"

I was about to step in and stop the quarrel when Marcia dropped to her knees and unzipped my pants. "Because guess what, bitch? This guy's here for me." She pulled out my cock and started sucking it. The brunette woman looked defeated and left the restroom.

"Okay, Marcia, you've made your point," I said, standing in disbelief at the sight of not only a sexy woman suddenly engaging in masterful fellatio, but my cousin being that sexy woman. She didn't stop sucking, as if she had no idea that I was her cousin and that I had told her to stop.

She held onto my shaft with her right hand, keeping the head of my cock just inside her mouth and licking the whole of its surface area. At first my knees almost buckled, but I managed to stay standing, and she kept on her relentless sucking and licking.