Lawrence Block - Threesome

The girl said, “We’ve just got to call you something besides ma’am, ma’am.”

“Priss.”

“Is that short for something?”

“Priscilla.”

“Groovy. Well, I’m Gloria called Glory, and I’m presently being felt up by Ken and Robbo, and that’s Mike on the other side of the door, being left out, and that’s Jimmie that you’ve got your hand wrapped around, and I think he likes it. You’re absolutely out of sight, Priss.”

One of the boys in the back said, “Let’s have an orgy.”

“We’re having one, stupid.”

“I mean really.”

“Out of sight.”

“I wish the rain would stop. We could get high and ball in somebody’s field.”

“You dig to get high, Priss?”

“Yeah, Priss, do you dig grass?”

“Why not?”

“You hear it? Why not? Right on, Priss.”

“But this is like too cold and wet for fucking in cornfields.”

“I’ll bet you never fucked in a cornfield.”

“Would you believe a wheatfield?”

“No.”

“Would you believe a hayloft?”

“No.”

“Well, would you believe the locker room at half-time?”

“Wow!”

“Right on!”

There was a Holiday Inn coming up on the left. There always is. If you go off in any direction you’ll come to a Holiday Inn in the time it takes you to pass three supermarkets. I braked and swung the car around to the left with as little planning as I had taken in stopping for the five of them in the first place. I pulled the car to a stop and took my hand from Jimmie. I opened the door.

“Wait here,” I said. “I’ll get us a room.”

While I checked in at the desk, hoping that the room clerk wouldn’t find out what I was checking in with, it occurred to me that it might have been a sage move to take the car keys with me. All Jimmie had to do was tuck himself into his pants and turn the key in the ignition and I would be stuck at a Holiday Inn by myself, with no way to get home and no plausible explanation for my presence there.

Of course the car was still there, and the kids in it. Kids? They must have been nineteen or twenty, the same approximate age Rhoda and I had been when, in a sense, this entire story got started in the first place. Kids? I was no more than a decade older than them, and sometimes that seemed very much older indeed, and sometimes it did not.

The room was around the back on the first floor, and like all of the rooms at the better new models, it had a pair of double beds.

You wouldn’t believe what a great idea that is.

We smoked an impressive quantity of marijuana. I hadn’t had any in ages, but there are certain things you don’t forget once you learn them, like swimming or riding a bicycle or balling your roommate, and getting stoned is another of these. It came back to me easily enough. I drew smoke deep into my lungs and let myself tune in on myself, let everything spread out and get loose and easy.

I thought, suddenly, of Rhoda and Harry. How long would I be gone? Would anyone worry? Would they be upset?

If I happened to die in that motel room, I decided, then Rhoda and Harry would get married and live happily ever after. My eyes misted over at the thought, and then suddenly the mood was gone and I was laughing at my own sense of melodrama. Someone asked me what was so funny.

“Everything,” I said. “Everything is very groovy.”

“You’re stoned.”

“Right on!”

Artlessly, and charmingly, everyone began to take off clothing. There was no sense of striptease about this, nor was there the feeling that one should avoid watching the procedure. I watched as Glory and the boys got undressed, and I also got undressed, and someone passed me another joint and I took another drag on it, and I passed it on, knowing that I was already about as high as I had to be.

My mind was nicely compartmentalized. I was completely loose and open and at the same time felt wholly in control of myself. And I thought that what I really wanted to do was blow this control, get out past it, beyond it, so that I was no longer in control of myself and my body could do what it wanted to do. This never did quite happen, but I don’t suppose I was unduly handicapped by it all. I certainly didn’t feel repressed or anything of the sort. Not at all.

No.

I was very interested in Gloria’s body. Not in the sense that I wanted her, but that I felt the two of us to be in some sort of friendly competition, like the United States and Canada. She was a short girl, and quite slender, but with surprisingly large breasts for her slender frame. She seemed to be utterly unselfconscious about her body in a way that would have been miles beyond me at that age. She went from boy to boy, kissing each in turn, being enfolded in one set of arms after another, being touched now by two or three of them at a time, and throughout it all being absolutely at ease with them and with me and with herself.

One of the boys kissed me, and I closed my eyes and let him lead me over to the bed. I lay down with him and took his penis in my hands. I felt other hands on me, and another penis pressing against me.

I can’t quite describe what happened next.

Everything happened next.

Right now I can’t bear to think about it How long were we there? An hour, two hours. No more than that.

An hour, two hours.

I fucked all four of the boys, and most of them more than once. It was mostly a matter of turn-taking, one of them being with me while the others watched, but once or twice there were more than one with me at a time, one in my cunt and another in my mouth, different combinations.

I don’t really remember exactly what we did, nor do I remember any differences between the boys. I cannot picture their faces (or any other parts of them) very clearly now in my mind, and can relate them to their individual names and attitudes only by recalling their position in the car, not their roles in the bedroom.

When I wasn’t doing anything active, I sometimes watched them balling Glory. She seemed to get tremendous pleasure out of sex, and to be equally agreeable to whatever the boys had in mind for her, which led me to conclude that she could look forward to a lifetime of uninterrupted popularity. But the poor child seemed incapable of orgasm. She just didn’t come.

How sad.

I, on the other hand, seemed able to come at will.

When the boys had run out of equipment, it was somebody’s idea that Glory and I make love so that they all could watch. This was, let me admit it, an idea that had already occurred to me, although I would not have thought to suggest it. I found the idea very exciting. Her fine body, hostess like my own to all of these boys, as though thus far this afternoon she and I had used them as proxies to ball each other from a distance. Her body, stained with sweat and semen, seemed particularly desirable. And there must have been a small element of challenge there, too; she had not come all afternoon, and for all I knew had not come in all her life, and I felt capable of changing that.

“A fun idea,” I said.

Glory’s eyes turned wary. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.”

I took a step toward her, smiling.

“I’ve never done that,” she said.

“First times can be fun.”

“Have you ever?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want to do, exactly? I mean-”

“Why don’t you just lie down and see what happens?”

“You want to, you know, to do me?”

“I want to eat you.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“Why not say it?”

“I-”

I was enjoying this perhaps more than I should have. It amused me to see the gloss of her exterior shattered by a network of doubt and indecision. It amused me, too, to sense the undercurrent of excitement that transfigured the four boys. I put my hands on Glory’s shoulders and gave her a gentle push. She rolled back on the bed. Pushover, I thought. Priscilla Roundheels Kapp and Glory Pushover.