The Game

Moll was not crazy. She was lazy! She hated doing the math when it came to Ungar, and instead loved to nag Erich about it.

"Oh please! Oh please!" she begged as they sat at Erich's. "Tell me what was in Ungar's last letter".

It's positively foggy outside, ideal for their little weekend slumber party. As they played chess and waited for the others to arrive, Moll caught up on 'Ungar' news.

"Okay," Erich put down his coke. "Promise me you won't cry all weekend and spoil our get-together?" He arched his eyebrows.

Sighing, she crossed her fingers. "It's that bad, eh?"

"Yes," Erich put it flatly. "He's gone on a trip to Europe to see his long lost lover, Hans, and expects to have a 'good time', or so he wrote". Erich gestured quotation marks with his fingers for 'good time', so that she doesn't misunderstand.

"Okay," Moll mumbled.

Lately, after having that awesome night of sex with Ungar, the on-and-off gay man who had become her lover, she felt an uncontrollable urge to call him and tell him, point-blank, that she had enjoyed it every bit and wouldn't mind more of it, whenever. But of course, that would be unladylike.

Not that it had been very ladylike of her to accept his gestures the first time. They had come home from the club, not spoken a word. Just had sex or made love -- like it was overdue. And just like she had seen a million women get dumped, in the morning, he had left a note saying he would call her, and never did.

Nor had she called for that matter. She figured, if he could be a royal jerk and have no regrets, then she could also.

Instead, she decided, to confide in Erich the matters of her secret passion, which Erich laughed away by claiming that it was no secret at all. All 'the men' knew what Ungar was up to these days. That he was madly in love with her, and that he was trying to reconcile her with the rest of what he was. Ungar still found men deliciously appetizing. He still fucked them. But then there was the matter of women--in particular, her.

Moll could not believe her ears. "What about yellow-dressed Jane from the party last summer?"

"WHOOO?" Erich made a face. He couldn't recall her at all. "You mean that ploy to make you jealous," he giggled.

"What?" Moll sat up.

"I don't know," Erich giggled. "Looks to me from the way he checks you out. You know. He's fixated on you with his dark sexy eyes. Aren't they just the most seductive haunting eyes you've ever seen?"

Moll had to agree. "Yes. Completely."

"So, it's hard to say if he wants you as in lusts for you or just....you know...loves you."

"Hmmm," she squinted. "What does that make me then?"

"You're something between a fixation or a dare and lust and love," he giggled again.

"Has he told you about me?" she asked again.

"No," Erich looked down at the table. "Men don't talk about their feelings much," Suddenly the door-bell rang, and he stood up to answer it.

Moll dusted her pajamas for cookies crumbs, and followed Erich to the door. Jim and Joe, the others they had been waiting for and a gay-couple, were standing at the door in trench coats, which soon came off and Moll marveled at their silk pajamas. She had never met them before, but Erich assured her they were "Very playful, Very nice," whatever that meant.

But they were very cute, she had to admit, for two gay men. Suddenly she realized that Jim and Joe were not just a couple but they were flirting with her. Or was it just the usual way gay men talked to women?

"Very playful," she heard Erich whisper, as they walked over to the kitchen.

She had to agree. They smiled. Joked. Played around almost like to kittens.

She found herself very self-conscious in their presence, but in a totally different way from when Ungar was in the room. Ungar seduced everyone with his eyes. These boys didn't want to love you. They wanted you to love them.

In the night, while they are making pizza, they start asking her about Ungar, however, and it caught her off-guard. How did they know him? But of course!

She answered what little she could about him, but mostly delegated questions back to Erich, who obliged and knew more about everyone, anyway.

At dinner, she watched them eat pizza and drink beer, and herself a bit tipsy, finally retired, leaving the boys to their party.

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In the middle of the night, however, something woke her up. It was the loud partying of the boys, who it seemed were dancing or something. She got up to see what was going on, but only to be shocked out her mind.

There in the living room was going on an orgy! A three-way orgy! What's more, Erich, the cross-dresser, was on top!

Moll didn't know what to do. First, she laughed, stepping back into the hallway. Then she thought about it. And finally, she began to have the ugliest thoughts -- about Ungar and the boys! Did he know them this way too?

Not knowing what else to do, she tiptoed her way out of Erich's home, got into her car and then drove away.

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It was 11 am when she woke up the next morning. There were messages on her answering machine that she had turned off after coming home that night at 3am. But she didn't particularly care for them now, though she thought she heard Erich's voice on one.

Picturing Ungar in group sex with the boys had driven out a part of her desire to call back, however, and made her wonder if all along, Erich and Ungar had been...you know...lovers. And where did that leave her friendship with Erich? With Ungar?

As she lay in bed she tried hard to think about any another man and how it would feel to fuck him. The Italian guy, Estephan, who had asked her out to dinner -- she tried instead to focus on his face. Cute but not seductive, the image of his face was failing to arouse her, though she tried, even imagined him naked. Nothing worked.

'Too confusing,' she said out loud as she sat in the bookstore, and the events from the night before kept replaying in her mind. She was now wondering why Erich had invited her to the party at all. More so, was the orgy something he had in mind? And why was she there? They had made no attempt at secrecy. The music was loud enough to wake anyone.

Suddenly, someone in black pants brushed past her as she was staring at the book. "Taking a class on Gender?" the man asked, and her head flew up.

It was Estephan, the guy from Italy. "No. I'm just reading it," she began to explain, and then wondered why. Who was he to nose around, anyway?

"May I join you?" he asked in his sexy Italian accent, still looking at her book cover, and if not mistaken, flinching.

"Sure," she nodded, putting the book down, as his cute looks turned into a demure seduction. He seemed to look right through her cheeks. What was he up to?

Moll sat up in her seat. Was this man checking her out or what? She looked into his eyes again, like she did to men who flattered her or stared, to see what their intentions were. His eyes spelled out something devilish. A horniness.

'Hmm,' she muttered to herself, as she took herself on a dare. She had never seduced a man before, except Ungar, but at 32 she had done her time as a prude and wondered if it was not opportune to break away from her role of prey. Putting on her devil's hat, she decided to toy with him. If he was trying to seduce her, she would play along.

She was good with words. Eventually, he would think he was being led to her place, even though she had made no explicit offers.

By the time the elevator was opening on her floor, the man had a puzzled look in his face -- of both amusement and a fear of the unknown. 'Men hate being led around,' Ungar voice popped into her mind. "We love taking charge," were the words to be correct.

But then who cared about what Ungar thought? All she knew was here was a man. Flesh and blood. A man she would seduce to see if she could, because she had not used her feminine charms on anyone in a long time and it was getting old.

But just then, as the door to the elevator on her floor opened, she caught a distant figure of a man standing outside her door waiting. It was unmistakably, one and the same. Ungar.

She looked at Estephan who lived a floor up from hers, and coldly nodded, "See you later."

Estephan looked puzzled. Like someone had just pushed him off a merry-go-round. But then he too saw the man in the distance and realization set in. "Later then," he said instead, as the door closed.

At the door, Ungar heard the footsteps and turned around. But instead of Moll's bright smile, which he expected to see was a furious woman storming at him at light speed. "What in hell do you think you are doing here?" she pushed him against the wall. Ungar looked at her, speechless. "I waited six months for a call. But, no call. Nothing. And now? You appear out of the blue," she said, and then opened the door.

"I am sorry," he said, putting his bags down. Had he moved from New York? He had with him three bags. What was he doing?

"What are you doing here?" she asked again.

He looked piqued. "I left you a message last night, this morning and even this afternoon. Where have you been?"

Moll giggled. "Really?" she asked, her eyes fixated on his dark eyes.

"Yes," he giggled, seeing how she was herself again. He walked up to her and kissed her flatly on the mouth and then, nuzzled at the nape of her neck. "Lately, I've been thinking," he said, breaking of the kiss. "That we should, you know...get real," he said, still playing with her.

"What does that mean" she managed to ask, giddy with desire.

"It means, marry me," he said, unable to stop.

She made a few sounds in affirmation, but wasn't all there for coherence. He'd ask her again later, she told herself. And if he didn't, she didn't care. Not right then.