Two, Plus One

It could've easily fitted into Group Sex, but wound up here in Mature instead.

Please enjoy!

+

14 February

Logan floated half-dozing in a sea of contentment.

He gradually became aware of Connie's warm breath on his neck, of the weight of her head on his shoulder, of her waist under his left hand.

"Wow!" his wife breathed softly. "That was pretty amazing. Glad to see the old boy hasn't lost his touch."

Her hand ran over his chest, down over his stomach and tenderly grasped his softening manhood.

He brought his free hand up off the mattress beside him, petted her hair, tenderly held her head to him.

"We might need to practise more," he said. "Just so we get it right."

Connie chucked softly beside him in the dim light.

"Any 'righter', stud, and this little girl's going to have a heart attack."

Logan felt her cool fingers weigh his balls, tug fondly on his now-limp organ. He smiled, both from the physical pleasure of it and from the knowledge she did it because  it pleased him. He was, he knew, a very lucky man in so many ways.

"I love you," he said softly. There was a slightly firmer tug in response.

The two lay in silence for some minutes.

"I did mean it," Connie whispered eventually.

"Mean it?" he questioned, sleepily.

"What I said."

The grey-haired man was silent for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry, Princess, but I don't really remember. I was kind of occupied."

His wife again chuckled. She knew her man, was utterly confident in his love, treasured his strengths, tolerated his minor failings.

"Yes, Logan, you sure were. I mean what I said about another."

"Another. Another... person?" His voice was cautious.

"Yes."

"You mean when we talked about a third person joining us... here."

"Yes."

Logan sensed that this was important. He stretched his back, tried to shake off some of his happy lassitude.

Pulling his arm out from under her, he rolled over so that he could look her in the eyes.

"You're serious, Connie?"

"I think so. Is that OK?"

He blinked in the dim light, paused before replying. She knows it's OK, he thought to himself. He wondered why she was raising it now, dismissed the question as unimportant.

"Well, yes. Yes, it is. Did you have anybody in mind?"

Her blonde hair covered her face as she snuggled back into his shoulder. A slim finger trailed the length of his chest before she spoke again.

"No. Nobody in particular. But, Logan...?"

"Mmm?" Fully awake now, he stayed very still, waiting.

"Logan, I think you'd prefer another woman, yes?"

"Yes." His voice was soft, but firm. Logan was pretty old-fashioned in some ways, Connie knew.

"I don't think I'd want a stranger," she continued. "No escort service roulette."

"No."

"Somebody single. Not married. Too complicated."

"True," he said, letting her lead the discussion. Now that Connie had suddenly broached the idea, he didn't want to derail anything.

"Then?"

"I guess we'll have to keep our eyes open, Connie." He thought for a moment, decided to duck, just a little. "Can you think of anybody from the studio you find attractive?"

"I'll think on it."

She lifted her head, rolled half onto her husband, one soft thigh over his groin. She kissed him gently. Logan brushed the hair from her face.

"You're pretty amazing, girl."

"I love you, Logan."

"I know." Her head lowered to his chest, rose and fell with his breathing.

He thought for a moment.

"Connie?"

"Mmm?"

"Um... Have you ever...?"

There was a soft giggle from his shoulder.

"Been with a girl?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm."

"Once. In college. Tina and I had had too much to drink and thought it might be fun."

"Tina?"

"Roommate. Long gone. We woke up on Saturday morning in her bed. We were embarrassed, I guess, but decided to treat it like it was an experiment and didn't get dressed until Monday morning. It was fun, very different, but we both decided in the end we liked boys better. Old history."

"Oh. Did..."

"Yes, Logan, she had nice boobs. OK?"

"Not what I was asking."

She tugged at his balls.

"No, but you were thinking it."

"Not true," he said, love in his voice.

"Liar." There was love in hers, too.

The man lay silent for a time, then, "Connie? Why now?"

"Things change, Logan. I'm different now. Society's different. And it's been what? 30 years? I'm in a whole new space. I'm light-years beyond being an 18-year-old theatre arts student. I've been a bride and a mom and I've liked both and I love being married to you and I love you being in bed with me. I'm just curious again."

She rolled up on one elbow, her eyes fixed on his.

"Also," she said, rolling his testicles fondly in her hand, "I have a guy I'm pretty sure would like to try it, too."

She smiled and Logan's mind flew back to the first time he'd seen her smile. It had made his heart sing.

It still did.

He pulled her head gently down for a soft, extended kiss.

16 April

"Are you OK?" Connie asked the thin stylist. Paula was so very obviously not OK, but Connie didn't want to seem too nosy.

In the mirror in front of her chair, she could see a hint of tears in Paula's eyes as, silently, she continued to trim Connie's hair.

The snip-snip-snip of the scissors slowed, stopped entirely.

"No," she whispered. "No, it's not OK." Tears began to flow in earnest.

Sheila, the salon owner, appeared out of nowhere.

"Is there a problem?" she asked. There was an odd tone in her voice.

"No, I don't think so," Connie said, uncertain as to what was happening.

"Paula?" the owner said.

The thin woman didn't reply, but the silent tears redoubled.

Sheila took her by the shoulders, turned her and gently pushed her away from the chair. "Go," she said. "Staff room -- take a break."

Paula slowly shuffled away. Connie thought her gait looked like a zombie from some second-rate movie -- shambling, loose, ill-coordinated.

"I'm sorry about that," Sheila said, a thin smile on her face.

"It's OK. She's obviously having a bad day and she was almost finished, anyway."

"More like a bad year," Sheila said.

She picked up the scissors Paula had just laid down. "Here, I'll finish this for you."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think there's anything anybody can do to help, thanks. This has been a long time coming, but I promise she won't ruin your next appointment, Connie."

"What do you mean?" Connie would have twisted to look Sheila, but one doesn't do that when somebody is working inches from your ear with sharp scissors. Sheila wasn't meeting her eyes in the mirror.

Eventually, their eyes did meet. Sheila paused, shrugged.

"Look, I feel sorry for her, but I'm running a business and she keeps falling apart on me. It upsets my customers. I've tried to help, but it's not working out."

"What's going on?"

"Man trouble, I guess you'd say. I shouldn't be saying anything, of course."

Connie felt something twist inside her. She too had had 'man trouble' before meeting Logan and knew how soul-sucking it could be.

"What's up?" she pressed.

"She's a really good stylist, but it's the usual crap," the woman said from behind her, scissors slowing down as she moved, assessed her efforts. "Her deadbeat boyfriend ran up a bunch of debt to feed his gambling habit. She threw him out, but she's a mess. Oh, and broke, 'cause he maxed out all her cards and she's about to be evicted. I've already advanced her wages, but enough is enough. We've had people from two collection agencies coming in here and that's just not acceptable!"

Connie closed her eyes. She'd been close to that, once; she still shuddered on occasion to think where -- or as what -- she might have ended up. Fortunately, an observant aunt had been pushy enough to overcome youthful pride.

She took a deep breath. "Sheila, I know she's been cutting my hair for years and she seems nice, but I need your opinion. What sort of person is she, deep down inside?"

Sheila put down the scissors, picked up a comb.

"She's nice as a person, like hardworking and really honest, too. It's a shame she had to wind up with Dane, right? I feel for her and, if things were different... well, things would be different, that's all I can say. As it is, today's her last day here, Connie. I'm really sorry you had to get involved."

Connie thought for a moment. "So, if she got her money problems sorted out, you'd keep her?"

Sheila's hands paused. Her eyes bored into Connie's in the mirror.

"Maybe. What are you saying?"

"Not sure. Not yet. I need to talk to Logan. Here, hold on for a sec."

Connie took her phone out of her purse, quickly thumbed a text.

lover mine, may have somebody 4 downstairs - ok?"

She turned to the stylist. "Let's see what he says."

Sheila made a few more strokes, held a hand mirror up behind Connie's head, turned it from side to side. "How's that?"

Connie smiled. "You're magic, Sheila!"

The owner's reply was cut off by the beeping of Connie's phone.

?

lost kitten needs nest. $400?

Sheila began brushing clippings off Connie's shoulders, pulled the cloth off from around her shoulders.

The delay was long enough that Connie was becoming anxious. Then:

400 is v low - u sure?

yes i know and yes. please?

ok trust your judgement xo

Connie smiled. "Sheila, can we talk in your office?"

+

Connie led Paula along the sidewalk at the side of the house. The path ended at a gate through a tall wooden fence. Outside the gate was a small concrete patio with a circular iron table, two matching chairs and a set of sliding doors with curtains drawn behind them.

Connie took a key from her purse and opened the doors.

"It's a little stuffy right now," she apologized. "We don't leave the a/c on unless there's somebody here. It'll take a couple of minutes to cool down." She moved to a control panel on one wall and pressed a button; Paula could hear air start to move.

"Come on in," Connie said. "Let me show you around."

The small suite was nicely finished and consisted of a kitchen/eating area, an attached sitting area, a bedroom and a bathroom. Connie commented on the various features as she led Paula through.

"That stairway," she said, pointing, "leads up to the main entrance, but there's a door at the top you can close if you wish."

The one end of the suite was floor-to-ceiling glass, allowing the warm sunshine to light up the rooms.

"Sorry there's only a shower," Connie said, "but there's lots of hot water. And the bed's comfy -- Logan often comes down here to nap in the afternoons."

Seeing the look on Paula's face, she giggled. "Well, not anymore, obviously."

The large bedroom featured a bureau and a double bed and had obviously been decorated with a woman in mind. Incongruously, a mini-gym and stationary bicycle had been placed in the middle of the floor.

"Sorry about this," Connie said, waving at it. "Logan set it up a couple of years ago, after Ginny left to go to college, but he hasn't used it much since we got a joint gym membership. I've been after him to get rid of it -- your moving in gives me an excuse to put my foot down. It'll be gone by the weekend."

"Actually," Paula said, "I don't mind. I need some exercise anyway." She opened the closet, shut the door a moment later.

The kitchen, while small, was clean and well-furnished. The refrigerator was half-full of a variety of bottles and cans of beer, white wine and half a dozen bottles of prosecco and champagne.

"Oops," Connie smiled. "I forgot about that, too. We've been using it for overflow storage. We'll clean that out by the time you move in."

The two women stood by the sliding doors. Paula was obviously impressed, but her eyes were downcast and Connie noticed her shoulders sinking.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"This is too nice."

"I'm sorry? 'Too nice?'"

The younger woman turned to her, tears on her face.

"It's too nice. I can't possibly afford this."

Connie brushed her jaw with a gentle hand, pulled her in for a soft hug. "Honey, it's $400 a month, like we discussed."

"But you could rent this out for three times that!"

"Maybe, but we're too set in our ways to play the landlord lottery. You're mature, quiet and responsible. I doubt you'll have loud parties or trash the place. That matters."

Paula looked doubtful.

"Look," Connie said, "when you get back on your feet and think you can handle more, come talk to me. But for right now, $400 is enough."

"You're sure?"

"It's enough for now. This way, you can start paying off those bills."

The younger woman surged forward, wrapped thin arms around her in a firm hug.

"Thank you," she said, sniffing slightly.

"Welcome to your new home, Paula."

18 April

Logan was either neat or else properly housebroken,. He hung his coat carefully in the hall closet and slipped off his shoes as he closed the main door.

"Connie?" A woman's voice unexpectedly came from the downstairs stairwaty. "Connie? I heard you come in. Have you a moment?"

Instead of Connie however, Paula found a burly man, grey hair matching a well-trimmed but equally grey beard.

"Hey!" he smiled. "You must be Paula. I'm Logan. I guess that's your car out front."

His arms opened, as if to invite a hug, but Paula stood still, her arms at her side and an uneasy expression on her face.

Logan dropped his arms, a contrite look on his face. "Oh, sorry -- not to push it. I'm happy to meet you in any case, Paula. Was there something you needed?"

"I was just going to thank Connie for the flowers." There'd been a large bouquet waiting for her when she arrived in the suite below with the first of her suitcases.

"She'll be home any minute and you can thank her in person." Logan's smile was contagious and Paula smiled back, albeit somewhat timidly.

"I was just about to make myself a small drink, Paula. Would you like something?"

"Um, no. No, thank you."

"Your call. Did Connie mention that you have pool privileges?"

"Pool?"

"Uh-huh. She didn't mention it? Why don't I show you?"

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and headed for the kitchen. Overcoming her nervousness, the slender woman followed him

He paused just long enough to open the refrigerator and pull out a can of beer. Holding the door open, he smiled again.

"Change your mind?"

Paula realized that her shoulders were about half an inch from her ears. Relax,   she told herself. You're safe.

"Um, are there any coolers?"

Logan opened the refrigerator door all the way. Paula could see a selection of bottles and pointed at one. "Please."

Pulling it out of the rack, he pushed the door shut with his hip as he opened the freezer door and pulled out two frosted mugs.

"Here," he smiled, handing her both bottle and mug. "You're family, sort of. That means you get to pour your own drinks." Taking his can of beer and his own mug, he walked out of the kitchen. After hesitating for a moment, Paula again followed.

Logan led the two of them out through a set of French doors onto a broad balcony. A retractable roof was already extended and the area was cool in the shade. There was a gas BBQ and an assortment of comfortable outdoors furniture.

Below, in the back yard, was an in-ground pool, irregular in shape but long enough to do some short lengths. The water in the pool rippled, suggesting a circulating pump was in action. A number of broad-leafed trees provided shade. The tall fence surrounded the yard; in one corner, Paula could see a gate, presumably the one outside the door to her apartment.

"It's lovely," she said. "I really am grateful to you and Connie for your generosity."

"No problems. We're glad to have you." Logan flopped down into what was obviously a favourite chair. Looking around, Paula chose another seat, one not quite close to his.

"It really is lovely," she repeated.

"We like it," he replied. "Oh, your door key will open the gate lock. Make yourself at home anytime."

"Thank you!" she said, surprised. "I suppose I'd best get a swimsuit now."

She poured her cooler into the mug, watched the frost melt, took a sip, willed herself to relax. It was hard; it seemed to her that she'd been tense for as long as she could remember.

From inside, she heard the sound of the main door opening and closing.

"I'm home!" came Connie's distant voice.

"Back on the balcony!" Logan's voice boomed. He got up and went back into the house.

Paula rose as the two emerged a minute later, arms around each other's waist. Connie broke into a smile as she saw Paula and drew her into a solid hug.

.

"The fence is high enough that nobody can see in, dear." Connie smiled at her friend. "It's private enough that Logan and I generally just skinny-dip. Feel free until you get a suit."

"Oh, I couldn't!"

"Never been skinny-dipping?" Connie grinned.

"Well, yes, of course. But not in..."

Connie cut her off. "It's your house now, too, Paula -- feel free. We're not always home, you know."

"I'll think about it."

10 October

"Paula," Connie mentioned as they lay by the pool in the warm autumn sunshine. "We generally have a Halloween party every year. They can get kind of exuberant -- you should be aware."

The two had become friends over the past few months, closer than landlady and tenant or client and stylist. Both found the sunshine calming after a hard day and, while Paula had indeed bought worn a bathing suit, Connie rarely wore one and the two women eventually dropped that convention when they were alone together, reserving suits for when Logan was there.

"Oh. Thanks for letting me know. Um, do you need some help setting up?"

Connie's eyebrows went up, then she smiled. "I didn't mean it that way, hon, truly. Just a heads-up."

"I know," Paula said. "But I wouldn't mind helping. You and Logan have been really kind; this is the least I could do."

"Well, then, thank you. We accept."

"You'll notice she accepted for both of us!" boomed Logan's voice from the balcony. The two women jumped -- they hadn't expected him home for another hour.

Paula in particular was flustered and, blushing wildly, frantically scrambled to cover her nudity with a towel from beside her chaise.

Connie didn't bother covering up. She merely turned her head upwards and shouted, "Nice going, asshole! Didn't your mother ever tell you to knock?"

Her words were harsh, but her tone was kinder, the sort of loving reproof one gives to an incorrigible child.

There was a short pause, then Logan's voice again boomed, still louder this time.

"Honey, that was 'astonished husband coming home to a surprisingly delightful sight' ," he laughed. "'Asshole'  is this!"

The balcony railing above groaned slightly as Logan nimbly climbed over. His entirely-bare form hurtled down fifteen feet to land in a cannon-ball splash immediately in front of the two women.

A tall column of water towered over them. Both squealed and tried to dodge the falling water. Neither of them succeeded. They stood, water pouring off them, just in time to see Logan's head emerge from the water.

His expression was one of innocent astonishment as he examined the expressions on their faces.

"What?"

Connie pointed her finger at him. "You jerk! You promised never to do that again!"

"Ah, my love," he smiled, dogpaddling gently towards the edge of the pool, "but I never promised that I'd stop quickly delivering drinks to pretty ladies."