And she’d never taken him up on
his offer of being with another woman after they’d gotten married, even though
he’d been very open about it. “Whenever you want—even without me,” he’d assured
her. It was true, she’d always been attracted to women as well as men—and her
affair with Maureen, her roommate and best friend in Boston, had been proof
enough of that. They’d even included Doc in their little tête-à-tête, making it
a true ménage à trois. That was, until Maureen had taken Jesus Christ as her
personal Lord and Savior and had married a fundamental Christian.
Maybe it had been the messy way
things had ended with Maureen that had put her off from trying it again. But
the truth was, she was happy with her Doc. She didn’t need anything or anyone
else, she reasoned. He was her whole world.
Carrie waved at Daphne as she
came out of the bathroom. The girl was dressed for a man-hunt, her red hair a
river of lava over the black material of her blouse, which was completely
see-through. Her black bra underneath was lacy and showed a lot of cleavage.
Her red skirt was short, trimmed in black lace at the hem. And as far as Carrie
could tell, she wasn’t wearing any stockings or hose. It made her wonder if her
friend had worn those sexy red panties.
Doc leaned over, reminding her,
“Hey, we’re still in college.”
“Graduate school doesn’t count.”
Carrie pulled out a chair as Daphne approached.
Doc chuckled. “Experimenting ends
with an undergraduate diploma? No one told me.”
“Stop.” Carrie poked him in the
ribs, smiling as Daphne took a seat in front of the rum and Coke Doc had
brought for her. “So, girlie, see anything you like?”
The redhead smiled, her gaze
sweeping over Doc, their eyes meeting briefly, before shifting out onto the
dance floor. The residents’ Christmas party was a big affair and included
interns and other hospital staff as well. They held it at a country club every
year, the same country club most of the residents would someday probably belong
to, if they stayed and practiced as doctors there.
“Lots of potential,” Daphne
mused, sipping her drink. “But I’m picky.”
“You can afford to be.” Doc
winked as he paid her the compliment, standing and picking up his glass. “I’m
gonna get myself another shot. Anyone want anything?”
“Hey, who’s driving home?” Carrie
inquired, tugging on his suit coat as he passed.
“Wilson.” Doc nodded toward the
bar. “He’s the teetotaler.”
“Who’s Wilson?” Daphne asked,
following his gaze.
“Come on.” Doc held out his hand.
“I’ll introduce you.”
“No, Daph, come dance with me
first.” Carrie was as surprised as anyone else at the words out of her mouth,
but she had Daphne’s other hand in hers and was pulling her friend toward the
dance floor before Doc could verbally protest. But he did raise his eyebrows at
the sight of them putting their arms around each other and grinding to the music.
“Who’s Wilson?” Daphne asked
again as they moved together. Carrie felt a stirring in her groin as her friend
wrapped silky arms around her neck. The smell of Daphne’s perfume was heady,
and the feel of her body, all softness and curves, brought back memories that
made Carrie’s knees tremble.
“See the guy with the ponytail,
talking to Doc?” Carrie’s hands went to her friend’s waist. The black material
of her blouse moved over the silken skin underneath and she found herself
thinking about those red panties again. “That’s Wilson. See that blond over
there? The one dancing?”
Daphne craned her neck. “The
green dress?”
Carrie nodded. “That’s his ex.
She’s a resident here too.”
“She looks like a ballbuster.”
Daphne smirked, her hips moving to Prince’s
Little Red Corvette
as if
they had a mind of their own.
“She dumped him for that guy
she’s with.”
“The Ken doll?” Daphne made a
face at the tall, blond Adonis that Camille was dancing with. “Why’d they break
up?”
“He told her he wanted kids some
day.”
“Oh.” Daphne nodded sagely. “She
didn’t?”
“Oh no, she did.” Carrie moved
her mouth closer to the shell of Daphne’s ear. “She just said she didn’t want
him to be their father.”
“Oh my god.” Daphne pulled back,
all wide-eyes.
“Yeah.” Carrie glared in
Camille’s direction. “Said she was looking for better genetic material.”
“What’s wrong with Wilson?”
Daphne glanced back to the bar where Doc and Wilson were talking about
something, laughing together.
“Nothing. He’s brilliant. Top of
his class.”
“Ahead of Doc?”
Carrie smirked. “Tied.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Well.” Carrie shrugged. “Look at
him.”
“What? I think he’s kind of
cute.”
“If you can get past the
piercings,” she reminded her. “And the tattoos.”
Daphne’s eyes brightened. “He has
tattoos?”
“Several.”
“Where?”
Carrie couldn’t help laughing at
her friend’s enthusiasm. “I’m sure he’d be happy to show you.”
“Come on, let’s go back.” Daphne
practically pulled her to the table where Doc and Wilson were now sitting.
Doc was quick to make their
introductions. “Wilson, this is our friend Daphne.”
“Hi.” Wilson nodded. “Daphne.
That’s an unusual name.”
“So’s Wilson.” She slid into the
seat beside him, next to Carrie.
“It’s my last,” he admitted. “But
it’s better than my first.” He turned to her, that curious Wilson look on his
face. Carrie knew it well. “So were you named after Daphne Odjig?”
“The artist?” The redhead rolled
her eyes, but Carrie saw the spark in Wilson’s at her recognition of the name.
How many people knew Daphne Odjig? Maybe it was a match made in heaven after
all. “I wish. My parents were far less cultured. I was named after the
Scooby-Doo character.”
Wilson laughed. “Well it’s still
better than being named after a dead philosopher.”
“Socrates?” Daphne guessed.
“Nope.”
“Plato?”
Wilson shook his head. “Aristotle.”
Daphne’s eyes went wide. “My
apologies.”
“That’s why they call me Wilson.”
He took a sip of his Coke, smiling around the straw.
“So I hear you’re the designated
driver?” Daphne asked.
“I don’t drink,” he told her.
“It’s more fun to watch other people get drunk.”
Daphne lifted her rum and Coke to
him. “Well then you’re in for a treat tonight.”
“Cheers.” Wilson laughed as they
clinked glasses and Carrie watched them, feeling a lump growing in her throat
and a tight ball of fire in her belly. She knew the feeling immediately,
although it surprised her beyond words. She was actually jealous.
“Dance with me.” Doc pulled her
into his arms on the floor, leaving Wilson and Daphne alone at the table. It
was a slow song and they swayed together, quiet. Finally, Doc leaned over and
whispered, “You can have her.”
Carrie startled, raising her gaze
to his. “What are you talking about?”
“Green isn’t your color.” He
pulled her closer, nuzzling his face against her hair. “Don’t tell me you’re
not. I know that look. You’re jealous.”
“I am—”
Not,
she thought,
but she couldn’t say it, because she knew he was right. “Does it really
matter?”
“Of course it does.” Doc tilted
her chin up and their movement slowed to practically nothing. He looked at and
talked to her like they were alone, as if they were the only ones out there on
the dance floor. “I see the way you look at her. You think I’m bored with you,
that I’m pushing my own agenda, but I’m not. It’s you, Carrie.
You
want
something else. Something that includes more than just me.”
“I don’t—” She shook her head,
confused, resting her cheek against his chest, feeling the steady beat of her
husband’s heart. Was he right? Things had been difficult between them at times
lately, far more tense than ever. She’d been short and angry, more of the
“nagging wife” she swore she’d never be. She’d even asked him on occasion what
was wrong with her. Doc just kissed her and held her and told her he loved her.
But things had started falling
apart like this right about the time she’d met Daphne. That couldn’t just be a
coincidence—could it?
“Trust me.” His lips pressed
against her ear. “I know you better than you know yourself.”
And she knew that was true.
“I love you.” She closed her eyes
and let that dizzy feeling take her as they danced, spinning on the floor,
letting him lead, always.
Carrie spent the rest of the
night watching her friend fall for Wilson, trying to drown her jealousy with
Fuzzy Navels. When that didn’t work, she switched to Seven and Sevens, and by
the time they made the announcement for last call, she was doing shots of
Cuervo Gold.
Doc practically carried her to
the car and she rode the whole way home listening to Wilson and Daphne laughing
and talking about The Violent Femmes in the front seat like teenagers, comparing
music collections and remembering first concerts.
“You sure you remember where you
live?” Carrie asked, leaning forward to ask Daphne, who was giggling in the
front seat as they neared Carrie and Doc’s apartment.
Her friend laughed. “Well if I can’t,
maybe Wilson has room for me at his place?”
“Sure.” Wilson smiled, easing his
Camaro up to the curb outside their apartment. Carrie felt Doc’s arm tighten
around her waist.
“Goodnight you guys.” Carrie
pushed the door open and got out, Doc following close behind.
“Talk to you tomorrow!” Daphne
waggled her fingers through the window and then Wilson was pulling away,
leaving them alone.
Carrie swallowed the bitterness
in her throat. “Think Wilson is gonna find out if she’s wearing her red
panties?”
Doc unlocked the front door.
“Lucky bastard.”
“Hey, I’m not wearing any panties
at all,” she announced, peeling off her coat and letting it drop to the floor.
“Brat.” He grinned and she
pressed herself up against him as the door closed, sliding his coat off too.
“You could see right through her
top,” she whispered, nuzzling his neck, feeling his cock pressed against her
hip, already hard.
“I
noticed.”
She
smiled, sliding her hand down to rub him through his trousers.“I noticed you
noticing.”
“How
come we never do stuff like that anymore?” His hand was wandering too, checking
to see if she’d been fibbing about her pantiless condition and finding that
she’d been telling the truth.
“Mmmmm.”
She rocked as he cupped her smooth, shaved mound. “Like what?”
His
fingers teased her clit. “Like we did in college.”
“You
want to do that again?” She got down on her knees, unzipping his slacks and
pulling him out. “You’d like to see both of us down here on our knees sucking
your cock, wouldn’t you, baby?”
He
groaned.
“Two
pussies to fuck,” she whispered, licking around the head, slapping him lightly
against her cheeks. “Two mouths to suck on you.” She sucked him gently,
pretending she was fighting over his cock with some girl. Not just some girl,
but Daphne. God, that thought made her so wet. She glanced up at him, seeing
the light in his eyes. “Two hot little assholes to fuck.”
He
threw his head back, moaning. “I bet she’s never had a cock in her ass.”
“And
I bet she’s a redhead all over,” she added, standing up to kiss him, tugging
his dick in her hand.
“You
want to lick that little pink pussy, don’t you, baby?” His tongue twined with
hers, his hips moving in rhythm. “She’d taste so good in your mouth while I
fucked you from behind.”
“Oh
Doc…” Her ass clenched, imagining it, seeing Daphne’s face buried between her
legs, getting fucked good and hard from behind, her soft moans and each thrust
driving her forward into Carrie’s wet flesh. “Oh my god…”
“Tell
me.” His fingers found her again under her skirt, slipping into her wetness.
“Tell me you want that little pussy all over your face.”
“I
do,” she admitted, her whole body energized with the thought. “Oh god, I
haven’t tasted a pussy in so long.”
“Here.”
He lifted his fingers to her mouth, making her take them, suck them. “Lick it
off. Taste your pussy.”
She
grabbed his hand, using her tongue to get every last drop, dipping between each
finger. It left a thick coating in her throat that just made her want even
more. She found herself wishing they’d invited Daphne to spend the night. What
would they have done with her, she wondered? What
wouldn’t
they have
done? But would Daphne have been open to it?
“Think
she’d let me lick her little pussy?” Carrie wondered out loud.