"SWIMMING INTO DEEPER WATERS"

Swimming into Deeper Waters

Donna M.

This story follows characters introduced in Stevesaint's classic story "Swimming Lessons" -- If you haven't read it yet and would like to then click here and read it first

I’m Veronica. Everyone calls me Ronnie.

I often wondered if the poets and songwriters got it wrong or were simply lying to us, saying that love was everlasting. Lately I’d been thinking that love was something finite and non-replenishable; like a battery, once depleted you threw it away. My supply wasn’t yet depleted, but I recognized the hollowness inside me and knew empty was close at hand. I’d been there before, with Melody and then Lana. That was why I dreaded the reunion. I met my husband Jake after I graduated from college. He knew nothing about my high school years, so therefore he was clueless as he urged me to accept the invitation.

“Come on now, honey. It’ll be fun. Think of it, Ronnie…ten years!”

“Big deal,” I said, “You didn’t go to yours.”

“I was sick, remember?”

“Yeah, and somehow I think I’ll be sick too.”

“Why? When you talk about that time I see how your face lights up, so there has to be some fond memories. What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m not that girl anymore.”

“That’s for sure,” Jake said. “You’re the most beautiful woman in town, so why can’t I show you off to the people who still think of you as that girl in the yearbook photo—isn’t ‘awkward’ the word you always use?”

He didn’t understand. That’s exactly why I couldn’t go. I don’t want to ‘show off’ to anyone. Jake’s right; I’m not the awkward teen anymore, but there are reasons for me to avoid my high school reunion. The number one reason was Lana, and I had no way of knowing if she’d be there. Calling Becky or Melody wouldn’t work. They hadn’t been friends with Lana. Of course there was a great chance that some of my old girl friends led the same kind of life I did. Jake thinks my reluctance is because the reunion may open old wounds. For me, it was about not inflicting new ones. Jake deserved better, even as I fought the hollowness.

I told him I’d think about it, mostly to postpone the inevitable. I wasn’t happy that once again my life wasn’t mine to live. I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that I was merely a puppet, someone ruled by what other people wanted, not what I wanted out of life. From puberty on I’ve been a victim of life, and I have no one to blame but myself.

Jake couldn’t fathom my nervousness as the reunion drew nearer. I know he wanted to show me off like a trophy, but considering everything that happened to me in high school I didn’t want anything to do with what I called the “hooker look” (as I called it) he tried to foist on me. A simple dress would be fine, I told him, and I didn’t budge on that subject. We planned to stay the entire weekend in my old hometown, booking our room in a quaint country inn in a neighboring town. Since my mother passed away I no longer had family in the area, so it was all about the reunion and maybe some sightseeing.

After we checked in on Friday evening, we drove around town and I dutifully pointed out all the ‘landmarks’ of my youth: schools I attended, the house I grew up in, and the pool where I took those fateful swimming lessons and met Melody. So many memories flooded into me (and my panties) when I thought about how Mel sexually awakened me, like a blossoming flower. I remembered her showing me how to shave my pubic region, and much more. I remembered how our swim instructor, Judy, made love to us and how much at that otherwise awkward time I felt so womanly and desirable.

Later, we ate at maybe the only decent restaurant in town. Sitting several tables over was none other than Gina. I saw her before she saw me. She was with a strikingly tall blond, and the way they were acting they certainly were intimate. I wondered if her high school girlfriend, Britt would be at the reunion and whether she too had kept her teenage sexual orientation. Gina had put on a bit of weight, and to be honest she’d never been that attractive in the first place. However, I sensed some envy in myself as I stole looks at Gina’s gorgeous companion. An image popped into my head of the woman’s long legs wrapped around me, and my tongue…

Jesus, I thought, I can’t think like that without leaving a puddle on my chair.

Jake leaned toward me and whispered, “I take it you know those ladies over there.”

As I nodded to indicate ‘yes’ Gina looked our way and recognized me with a start, like it took a few seconds for the recognition to click. I said, “I graduated with the shorter of the two, the one now staring over here.”

“Why not move to the lounge once we’re done eating? We can invite them along and you two can catch up on things over a cocktail or two.”

I lamely told Jake “We’ll see,” but like this reunion it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. When we finished our meal, Jake paraded me over to their table and in his own enthusiasm-bubbling-over way forced me to engage Gina in small talk. Since I wouldn’t ask, my husband jumped in and made the invitation for them to join us in the lounge for drinks. Jake was oblivious, probably because she was so pretty, and didn’t realize the way Gina’s girlfriend was looking at me. I knew that look.

In the lounge Jake said, “Gina seems nice but maybe a little cold. I guess you weren’t the best of friends in school. Sorry for forcing you two together. Anyway, maybe they won’t join us.”

But they did, and that surprised the hell out of me. Gina introduced the other woman as Kelli (“with an I”) and referred to her as a “friend.” The dynamic was strange, though in hindsight wholly predictable. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off the stunning blond, yet her eyes were undressing me the entire time.

When I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room, Kelli did too and went with me. Once there, she quickly made a pass; more than a pass, really, since her hand soon went under my dress and right to my crotch as she spoke. “Gina said you were a hot one in school, and I must say you’re pretty fucking hot now. Why don’t you ditch your old man and we’ll sneak out of here together?”

“No,” I said, but without much conviction as her touch and proximity had the desired effect.

We slipped into a stall and progressed into finger fucking each other while we locked lips. I hadn’t been with a woman for such a long time, and all the sexual awakening I’d experienced in high school came flooding back. Flooding, actually, was the perfect descriptor. “Oh…God…I’m…cummmmmmmmmmming!” I said, louder than I would’ve liked.

“Meeeeeeeee tooooooooooooo,” she purred.

We convulsed in each other’s embrace, oblivious to anyone else who might have been in the ladies’ room with us.

“Maybe we can have a party after the reunion party,” Kelli murmured as we straightened out our clothes before going back out into the restaurant’s lounge.

“You’re with Gina, and I can’t do anything with my husband here. Sorry.”

“You’re fully living the lie aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

Kelli chuckled and said, “Playing straight with your darling little man in the suburban life. Pretending you’re not a lesbian at heart. A girl’s sad charade.”

Yep, she saw through me. I lied to Jake. I lied to myself. Sex with Jake was a chore, my duty. He was good to me, and I loved him. He just wasn’t a woman. I was in a make-believe world, an actress upon a tenuous stage. It hadn’t even started yet and the mistake of attending the reunion was confirmed.

I’m thinking; once a slut, always a slut.

Back at the table, my grinning husband asked me what took so long.

“You know…girl talk,” I said. Gina’s expression told me she knew differently. Kelli feigned insouciance.

In bed later, Jake commented on how well I seemed to have hit it off with Kelli. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was Kelli you went to school with, not Gina. She’s a gorgeous woman, though not as gorgeous as you are,” he said. “Gina, on the other hand was almost hostile with me while you two were away. Did she have something against you? Some anger still remaining from high school?”

I deflected his questions by saying that Gina and her best friend at the time, Britt were in a different clique, and that was all there was to it. Jake wanted to have sex but I told him I was tired and too nervous about the reunion. He seemed to take it okay, as he usually did.

My nervousness grew to monstrous proportions as the time approached. As the day progressed I only had one thought: would Lana be there? I couldn’t comprehend what I’d do or say if she did attend; I only wanted to see her again. The rest would be up to Fate, and she can’t be stopped. Jake was still clueless on why I was so anxious. We did some shopping (“poking around” he called it) and a bit more sightseeing, though we pretty much exhausted all the sights worth seeing. Driving by the pool once more, I thought of Judy, Melody and the swimming lessons, and wondered if Judy still lived around here, knowing that I’d never know the answer. Some things should remain fond memories.

Jake heaped compliment upon compliment on me after I’d dressed and did my hair and makeup. He looked great in his suit, I told him. He’d always been the early bird, so arriving early to any function was preordained. Thankfully we weren’t the first to arrive at the auditorium.

And there stood Melody.

She’d put on weight, not much altogether but it did paint a picture of what she’d look like given another ten years. She was with a slight man who, unlike Melody probably hadn’t gained a pound since high school. I didn’t recognize him. They were talking to another couple, the guy looked familiar but I couldn’t attach a name to him. Luckily my fellow graduates and I had name tags.

While I debated approaching my very first girlfriend, my name tag took the decision out of my hands. “I don’t believe it!” the new woman cried, “It’s Ronnie, and you’re married, wow!” she gushed as she looked me and Jake up and down like she was sizing us for new suits.

“Hi Alvina. You haven’t changed a bit,” I said, although she really had changed. She’d been cute enough in high school, with her pig-tails and all, but her too-big nose now seemed to dominate her face, and it wasn’t so cute anymore. I introduced Jake, and Alvina introduced her husband, Bill. Bill was a beefy guy who either wrestled or played football in college, but was losing muscle tone fast. He wasn’t subtle as he looked at me. I know Jake noticed, but my darling husband simply pulled me closer, letting Bill know who I “belonged” to. Men! I wondered how much Alvina told her husband about her high school sexual experimentation. I never dared use that kind of pillow talk myself.

Jake was always a perceptive man. “Why would she be so surprised that you’re married?” he asked me once we were away from Bill and Alvina.

“Maybe she thought I’d become a nun or something,” I facetiously answered. He didn’t say anything more on the subject.

When Gina and Kelli entered the hall arm-in-arm there was quite a buzz. Except for coming out of the closet, not much had changed, I thought. When I pondered the fact that lesbians now could get married, the pronoun in my thoughts was ‘we’—as in we can get married now. I may have been able to sublimate my feelings and inclinations up through yesterday, but the encounter with Kelli bared everything. My adult life, it seemed, has been one, big defense mechanism, and I’ve been fooling myself, and most of all, Jake.

I hesitated when I saw Melody and her male companion standing alone, but I rounded up some courage and pulled Jake over to meet her. Mel’s mixed emotions in seeing me were quite apparent. She introduced the man as her husband, Stuart. I introduced Jake. And the speculation began for both of us. Up close, Stuart wasn’t only a slight man physically, he fit every stupid gay stereotype, and I hated myself for even thinking it. Jake sensed that Mel and I had some catching up to do so he steered Stuart away, engaging him in small talk. Jake always was quick to befriend anyone, one of his endearing qualities.

“What do you know, Ronnie, two high school lesbians got married; isn’t that a surprise,” Mel said as soon as the guys were out of earshot.

“Shouldn’t be a surprise,” I responded.

“I guess you’re right. When we met you had all kinds of self-esteem issues, and you were always trying to please others instead of yourself. I bet your husband—Jake you said?—I bet he chased you down and you couldn’t say no.” She looked at me wistfully. “You are a hot looking number. Have you completely gone over to the other team?”

Her commentary hit too close to home. She asked the question that maybe I’ve been trying to answer for ten years. “Mel, I can’t respond to what you’re saying about my self-esteem back in high school. You did teach me a lot back then, and I was very naïve. I’ll always remember and be thankful for our time together. As to whether or not I lean one way or the other now is one question I wonder if you can answer for your own life.”

She said, “Oh, I can answer that easily, since in most respects Stuart and I got married for financial reasons and basically to be each other’s ‘beard.’ We’ve never…er…consummated…our marriage.” She went on to explain about their respective jobs and how being married—and straight—was viewed favorably. “Stuart has his lovers and I have mine, but I bet our story isn’t your story.”

“No,” I said. “I love Jake, and we do have sex but I’m not fond of it.” I paused after finally putting words to my years of marital frustration. “I’ve looked at other women during my marriage but only cheated once.” I gave her a condensed version of an affair I had with a co-worker that went on for about a year until my lover gave up trying to get a commitment out of me.

“I know, because you couldn’t bear to say no to Jake,” she said with a smirk.

She couldn’t know or even guess at the real reason.

Just then Gina, Kelli, Britt, Becky and Megan—all the openly gay attendees I knew—walked up to us and invited Mel and me to leave the reunion. Britt said, “We have a suite reserved for the night, and we’ll have the hottest orgy for old time’s sake,” reminding us of the all-girl pool parties at Becky’s house when we were in school.

Kelli was ogling Melody, but spoke to me. “Yeah, Ronnie, come with us and we can continue what we did last night at the lounge. I need some of that.”

Gina openly displayed her affront that what she suspected of her girlfriend had been confirmed, saying to me “You’re still the slut you were in school, so why bother with your husband anyway.”

It wasn’t quite an invitation. I picked up the negative vibe that wasn’t just Gina, so even if I was lured by the sex (and I was, especially with Kelli) I wouldn’t go with them. Things didn’t work out that day at Becky’s pool party so long ago, and they wouldn’t work out tonight. Instead, I asked Becky about her younger sister. “How is Julie doing?”

“Oh, she’s fine,” Becky said. “She asked me once if I kept in touch with you and that butch girlfriend of yours. I never understood the attraction.”

Whether she meant my attraction to Lana or Julie’s attraction to me I didn’t know, nor did I really care. Julie had been a sweet—and hot—little number, unlike her bitchy older sister.

Before I could say anything, Melody asked me, “Whatever happened to Lana, anyway? Have you kept in touch?”

I admitted that I hadn’t. The other girls left us but not before Kelli openly cupped one of my breasts and kissed me full on the lips, whispering “Too bad” afterwards. Mel thought it was funny, saying “You’re still hooking us girls, and breaking our hearts, aren’t you? Gina looks like she’d kill you if she had the chance.”

“You made your choice and I lived with the result, Mel. In reality I only broke one heart,” I said, thinking of Lana. After high school she wanted commitment, but I wasn’t ready. “You haven’t seen Lana here, have you?”

She said no before changing the subject. “You and Kelli really did get it on?” Without getting into detail I told her what had happened. She then said, “Oh God, Ronnie, I can’t help but wish it was me that you were touching.” Her facial expression told me she was sincere. Once more I reminisced about the day of my first swimming lesson, and how Melody befriended me and taught me the joys of lesbian sex.

I spotted a trio of women looking our way and asked Mel if she knew them. The three were cheerleader types, blond and leggy in short dresses. Mel said one of them was Missy Cummings who indeed had been a cheerleader. “I think she fucked the whole football team senior year. They all made fun of her last name,” Mel said. One of the blonds seemed to have a greater interest in us. At that distance she looked familiar but I couldn’t place her in my memory.

I said to Mel, “Are you sure she wasn’t one of your…ah…converts?”

“No. If she was, I’m sure I’d remember someone looking that good.” When Mel realized the woman was indeed looking at us, she said “Let’s go scope her out. Maybe we can coax her out of the closet.”

As we approached the three women, my heart skipped several beats, and I whispered “She’s already out of the closet.”

The blond babe who’d been staring at us was Lana!

“I was wondering how long it would take you to recognize me, Ronnie.” She said, smiling. How could this be the same girl I loved in high school? Gone was the punk-goth look; her beautifully coifed blond locks, short yet far removed from the spiked dos of her teens. Also gone were all the facial piercings, though up close I saw some of the holes through her make-up, not that they were obvious but because I knew where to look.

“I suppose you already know why that was difficult,” I said as I reached out to hug her. She hugged back with such intensity that many of my doubts were put to rest. She introduced Mel and me to the third woman, a friend of Missy’s who, like her, was married to another alumnus, an ex-jock. She politely asked Melody and the other two to excuse us. “We have ten years of catching up to do,” was how she put it. “How about a little déjà-vu? I need a smoke.”

As we went outside so she could light a cigarette, Lana reminded me of the time we first spoke to each other outside of school as she smoked, thus the déjà-vu comment. I never smoked, after all.

At my urging, Lana gave me an encapsulated review of her post-high school years. She avoided any reference to the hurt she must have felt in losing touch with me, though it was evident in her voice. She talked of college and her career in fashion design. The big surprise was what she admitted next. “I discovered late in college that a cock was not a bad thing, as long as it was attached to a good man. I still love women, although Ms. Right has eluded me so far. Maybe I’ll never get over you, sweet Veronica.” Having seen me with Jake, she wanted to know what my love life was like.

“Repressed,” was my response. “I’ve only been to bed with one woman since I got married, and it’s taking its toll on me. My husband’s a sweetheart but sooner or later I’m going to snap. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you and wonder what could have been.”

As if a shadow crossed her face, she said, “The ‘could-have-been’ was completely up to you. You were…and still are…the only girl I ever really loved, and I never really had you one hundred percent. Melody, that swim instructor Judy, Becky’s little sister Julie, and damn, even my mother! You were such a slut.”

I agreed with her. I blew it. “Yes, I’ve made my own bed,” I said in resignation to what my life had become.

“And you don’t seem to care as long as the bed has someone else in it beside you. Ronnie, I hope you realize that it’s like your whole life is made up of regrets. If only you’d thought things out before you acted maybe you wouldn’t be forcing yourself to be happy like you seem to be doing.”

“And I’d be with you,” I said, finishing the thought that was clearly on her mind.

She dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and stomped it out, then she surprised me by pulling me to her and planting her lips on mine. The kiss melted away over ten years of time. Even her tobacco smoke-breath reinforced the feeling of déjà-vu. I was back where I wanted—needed—to be: in Lana’s arms. Our kiss went on seemingly forever. I know that was a cliché, but it was how the kiss felt to me, like time stopped.

“I love you, Lana,” I muttered after our lips finally separated.

She became angry. “You know you don’t mean that so don’t say it. It was easy for you to talk about love back then, until the first sniff of the next girl spreading her legs for you. Do you tell your husband you love him?” She wasn’t really looking for an answer so I didn’t bother giving her one.

Lana shook her head and lit another smoke. In the meantime others came out to smoke too. A couple of the men who weren’t classmates, and therefore didn’t know me or Lana, shamelessly hit on us. Lana openly flirted back until she wheedled the names of their spouses out of them. Then she struck, “Why don’t I go back inside and tell Sue and Heather that their husbands are jerks and they can do better. In fact, Heather is still hot and I bet she’d cum all over my tongue,” she said to Heather’s husband. “Does she cum for you?”

They were pissed, but they blessedly left us alone after calling us a few colorful names.

She was done with them but not with me. “Are you ready to go inside and tell your husband you’re leaving him for me? You love me, after all, right?”

I slowly shook my downturned head, unable to meet her steely gaze. I thought of Jake and our years of marriage. What was the greatest hurt, the lie I’d been living (and repeating daily) or the final blow of ending the farce once and for all? I wanted Lana more than I ever would have admitted to myself, yet everything she said earlier about my commitment problems was right on. I’d rather hurt myself than hurt anyone else.

When we walked back inside, Jake was there waiting for me. He’d been speaking with Mel and Stuart but broke away from them and approached me. “I wondered where you went to,” he said.

I introduced Lana. If his ogling stare indicated he thought Kelli was a 10, then his look now indicated Lana was in another numbering universe. What was funny about the whole scene was the way Lana was staring back. I’d never seen her look at a guy that way, and then I remembered what she’d said earlier about her newfound appreciation for cock.

Missy Cummings approached us—Lana specifically—and so I used that as an excuse to pull Jake away. In order to avoid any uncomfortable questions, I asked Jake “If you spent so much time talking with Melody’s husband then you must have found some common interests, whatever they may be?”

Jake chuckled, “None whatsoever. I did learn quite a bit though, and what I learned cleared up many things.” His smile faded as he looked off into the hall’s farthest spaces. “What I can’t understand in today’s changing climate is why a gay man and a lesbian have to get married for appearances sake. To each his, or her own, I guess.”

He looked at me—looked through me, actually. “When Stuart told me how much his wife talked about you, I put the proverbial two and two together. I got Melody to acknowledge what you two meant to each other in high school, and then she told me about Lana.” He sighed, and added “Like I said, it explained a lot.”

“I’m sorry Jake, don’t hate me for it.”

“I don’t hate you. I love you. Nothing has changed on my end. Now I know why you dreaded the idea of this reunion. You didn’t want me to know the truth about you. Believe it or not, all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, and I’ve loathed myself for failing you even though I didn’t know why. I won’t hold on to you; if you want to leave for Lana or another woman I’ll understand, and won’t stand in your way.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“But you still love Lana, don’t you. And she still loves you. I saw it on her face.”

I nodded.

Then my husband asked the most surprising question. “Would you like her to stay with us tonight, so you could…?”

“You’d really let that happen?”

“Like I said; whatever makes you happy.”

We waded through the attendees until we located Lana. We pulled her aside from friends, and when I became tongue-tied and couldn’t ask, Jake asked for me. Lana hid her emotions well but not perfectly. She hesitated, looking first at me and then Jake before saying, “Whose idea is this?”

Jake said, unblinkingly, “Both of us.”

She said to him, “If I say yes, what’s in it for you?”

“Nothing except the happiness of the woman I love.”

Lana stood there silently, appearing as if she was sizing up my husband’s honesty with some sort of built-in lie detector. Then she smiled and asked him to dance. Jake actually blushed! While they joined other couples dancing to a slow number, Mel came up to me and wanted to know what was going on. I told her that I’d let her know as soon as I figured it out myself.

When the song was over, Lana walked back and pulled me aside. “Jake has offered you to me for the night. Now it’s your call, but first I have to say that I’m not interested in you for a night. Sex itself isn’t love, and I know in my heart that I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, although only the Good Lord knows why sometimes,” she said, the last with a wry smile.

I said, “Why can’t we just start with one night and see what happens after that?”

“See what I mean? You can’t commit, and maybe never will.”

“I’m afraid, that’s all,” I said. “I can’t just walk out on Jake. Not like this.”

“Maybe you won’t have to.”

“Huh?”

She smiled the famous sardonic Lana smile and said, “You probably couldn’t see it from where you were standing, but all throughout the dance your husband had a monster hard-on, and he made sure I knew it if you catch my drift. Rest assured, like he said, he knows the score and basically knows he can’t hold onto you forever.”

I told you he was a very perceptive man.

“Okay,” I said. “If he’s as interested in getting into your panties as I am, then what are we gonna do?”

“There you go, asking me the questions again when you haven’t answered the one that counts: will you commit to me forever?”

I thought about that whole finite love thing again. Would I have enough love in me to sustain a life with Lana? Instead of my head, for once I had to let my heart take the lead. In a husky voice that hardly sounded like mine, I said, “Yes…oh sweet Lana…yes I will. I’ll try every second of my existence—”

She laughed. “Remember what Yoda said: Do or do not, there is no try.” I laughed along with her. We caught Jake’s eye before it was my turn to be led by Lana onto the dance floor. We danced, oblivious to other people and the music, holding on to each other in near desperation.

I whispered to her, “Did you ever think we’d be dancing in a public setting like this and not worry about what others would say?”

“I dreamed it…many times,” she said in reply.

“I don’t deserve your love, but I’ll try…oops…I will love you always.”

“Remember; don’t make promises you’re not ready to keep.”

“I’m ready,” I said, meaning in more ways than one.

“I know you are,” Lana replied. She knew what I meant. When one song ended and another began, we continued dancing our own version of the Lambada. “Are you as wet as I am?” she whispered.

“Maybe more so,” I whispered back. With her leg pressed and gyrating between mine how could I not be wet? When that song was over, we walked away from the others and found a corner we could call our own.

Her singular beauty, something she tried hard to hide in high school, was spectacularly evident, especially now that she was flushed and aroused. “You’re so beautiful,” I said. “I still don’t understand what you see in me.”

“There’s that self-esteem issue again. What you don’t understand is how damned beautiful you are. Think about it. Your husband is certainly a red-blooded, heterosexual male. I mean, he certainly proved that to me when we danced. If he’s not getting the amount of sex he wants and yet remains faithful, I’d say he sees what I see when he looks at you.”

“Tonight’s gonna be special,” I said.

She smiled and replied, “It already has been.”

We rejoined the group that now included, besides Jake, Melody and Stuart, Alvina and her husband, Bill as well as Missy and several other attendees. I laughed inwardly when I saw the way that Stuart was looking at my husband, and then turned pensive when I thought of Jake’s response to meeting Lana. I used to repeat the mantra I’m not a slut even when I was being one. I guessed we’re all sluts one way or the other.

The night’s dynamics would be interesting. Our room at the inn was a mini-suite of sorts, but Jake on the sofa would still have a good view of the bed. Would he renege once he heard us going at it? Or would he be as turned on by Lana as he had been while dancing earlier? What would I do if he wanted to make it a threesome?”

It turned out I needn’t worry. Jake announced that to give us “privacy” he accepted an invitation to spend the night with Melody and Stuart. Who he’d end up with (if anything happened) had Lana and me wide-eyed and giggling at the possibilities. She said, “Your hubby’s not a closet gay, is he?” I told her not that I knew of.

We mingled the remainder of the reunion, striking up conversations with all those we remembered—and remembered us. Many were surprised by Lana, considering how she looked and dressed in school. It felt good to be beside her and on her arm. Nobody questioned our relationship or commented on my wedding ring. I liked that. When things wound down, we said our goodbyes and arranged for the five of us—Jake, Melody, Stuart, Lana and me—to meet in the morning at a local restaurant that served breakfast. It was a greasy spoon sort of place but I figured that by morning none of us would care about quality.

Jake took our car, so I rode with Lana. I gushed over the beautiful (and expensive-looking) Jaguar. Without it being a boast, she said that her fashion designing work “paid well.”

“You removed your piercings, but do you still have your tattoos?”

She smiled as she drove. “Not all my piercings, and yes, I have all my tattoos and added a few others.”

I said, “I can’t wait to see…and kiss…each and every one of them.”

Between the car and bed, the interval was a blur. Somehow amidst our horniness we managed to enter the inn and get to the room without attracting much attention, although Lana laughed and said, “I think the skinny lady that passed us in the lobby smelled our musk and’ll be jumping somebody’s bones pretty soon. Did you see the look on her face?”

“I was too busy looking at you,” I answered, and I meant it.

Like I said—a blur.

No shower, so our musky scent of arousal permeated the air. We devoured each other in a luscious 69 until both of us screamed in orgasmic harmony. Her chin dripping wet from my juices, Lana said, “You still squirt like a hose.”

Still tasting and relishing her juices on my tongue, I told her how much I admired her orchid tattoo that covered her entire hairless pubic region. “I felt like a hummingbird searching for nectar.”

“Did my sweet little hummingbird find all the flower’s nectar?” she said with a throaty laugh.

“Oh yes I did, and the bird wants more,” I said before going down on her again.

This time she didn’t reciprocate, which was okay since that let me concentrate on getting her off just right. I nibbled, licked and sucked until her body tremors were overwhelming. She bucked her hips wildly as she cried out her climax.

We showered together, probably kissing more than cleansing. We dressed, went out, and luckily found one package store open. We bought two bottles of champagne, went back to the inn, got drunk on the bubbly, and humped each other like the love-starved bunnies we were. We scissored to ecstasy, cumming as if an electrical discharge went back and forth between us. Fingering and licking was our lullaby to fall asleep to.

Before dawn, she woke me with her tongue, one orifice after another. After I’d cum loudly and wet, we talked about the future while in each other’s arms. I told her I loved her and regardless of how I felt about Jake, I’d get a divorce and marry her now that we could. In the filtered moonlight, her look said do you really mean it? although she was kind enough not to ask the question aloud.

“Do you think Mel let Jake fuck her like I’m sure he wanted?” Lana asked me before we fell asleep.

“I’ve been wondering if Stuart fucked Jake like he wanted to,” I said, figuring we may never know what transpired in that hotel room among the three of them.

We slept late and then called Jake about breakfast before I checked us out of the inn. I kidded Lana about being overdressed, since she had only last night’s party dress to wear. At the restaurant nothing was said about what our nights were like, although Melody did make a few comments to Lana and me that told us she was jealous. Melody, it seemed, still had a thing for me. An “unquenched thirst” was how she put it in an e-mail she sent to me weeks later. Jake picked up the tab but otherwise was quiet.

When Mel and Stuart left, I said my goodbyes to Lana with a long, lingering kiss in the parking lot. Jake watched us and knew that our marriage was over. He looked sad but not devastated. Resigned, maybe. Lana unabashedly reminded me of my commitment, and said before climbing into her car, that because of the nature of her job, her living arrangements were flexible. Jake was perceptive enough to figure that one out. On our drive home, he proffered the suggestion that until he could find a place to stay, Lana could live with us. “I’ll take the guest bedroom and otherwise stay out of your way,” was how he put it.

We spent the next two days talking practically about divorce and dividing up the assets. I called Lana and made the proposal and in three days she would be moving into the house. It seemed Jake wasn’t as attached to the house as I thought he’d be, so among the financial decisions was one where I’d buy his half, with help from Lana of course.

Moving-in day was amazing. Lana appeared hornier than I was, and soon she was urging me to the bedroom so we could consummate our love anew. Hours and orgasms later, I left her on the bed, soaked in our sweat and orgasmic juices, and looked for Jake.

We had ‘the talk’ that both of us had been avoiding since the night of the reunion. I apologized for leading him on in terms of my sexuality, and told him that I did love him, just not the way he deserved to be loved. He reiterated that he somehow always knew there was something missing in our marriage bed but figured he’d live with it as long as I did. “Don’t ever say our marriage was a lie,” he said. “We may dissolve it, but I believe we were and always will be the best of friends.” It was uplifting to hear him say that.

Eerily, the three of us coexisted very well under one roof. Part of it may be that like we saw at the reunion, Jake was smitten by Lana. He saw everything in her that I did. She was indeed a special, remarkable, beautiful woman; one I’ll be very proud to be married to.

On the night before Jake was to move out, Lana and I were coming down from electrifying orgasms when we heard something outside the bedroom door.

“Is that you, Jake?” I called out. “You spying on us?”

He sheepishly poked his head around the door jamb. “Jesus Christ, I haven’t had sex in weeks, and you two are better than porn any day!” he said. We couldn’t help but see his other ‘head’ poke out as well.

Lana whispered to me, “Maybe we should give him a send-off he’ll never forget.”

I whispered back, “You’ll do it…with a man?” After all, I was a bit stunned by her suggestion.

To Jake’s surprise we invited him into bed and Lana fucked him silly while I watched and caressed a variety of her body parts. To my amazement she milked cum after cum from his never-wilting cock. A little jealous, when Lana had had enough I took over and rode him cowgirl, something I’d rarely if ever done, as he so breathlessly pointed out to me. Finally spent, Jake watched us work on each other once more until we squealed again in delight.

For weeks afterward Lana and I planned out our life together and our wedding someday, while I kept in touch with Jake to see how the divorce paperwork was progressing on his end. Every time we spoke he hinted at another chance with me and Lana, but I adamantly explained that it was a one-time deal and that no one would be in our bed but Lana and me.

One day I was frustrated that Lana was on another business trip. Horny and agonizingly alone, I let my frustration bubble over when she called. Like usual her sweet voice and soothing words calmed me as I told her how much I missed her while she was away.

“We’ll go swimming when I get back, okay? You still like to swim, don’t you?”

She teased me like that, knowing how swimming lessons put me with Melody, and thus into lesbian love and her. “We’ll swim and then I’ll do some strokes with my tongue,” I teased her back.

“Oh God, Ronnie. Don’t talk like that when I’m away from you!”

When we hung up, my cell rang again. It was Kelli. “Hi there, sexy. You’ve got what I need. Can I have some?”

I’d forgotten that I gave her my number in the ladies’ room that night before the reunion. Like today, she’d called a bunch of times telling me how hot I was and how much she wanted me. Hearing her purring voice again, especially now when I was horny, had me imagining her lovely long legs wrapped around my head as I drank from her fountain. Barely able to talk, my pussy aching and sopped, I said, “Come on over.”

The poets and songwriters didn’t get it wrong about everlasting love. It was me. I had the short-circuit. I was the slut who couldn’t control myself, ready to throw away another good thing. In the time it took Kelli to drive up the coast, I showered and masturbated, knowing that my self-inflicted finger play wouldn’t dampen my orgasm with Kelli.

Wearing only a robe, watching out the window as Kelli hurried up the walk, her hair flying and clearly aroused, my pussy dripped again.

I repeated it over and over before I opened the door.

I am not a slut.

But of course, I was.

Donna M.

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