They had been friends for a long while. They had endured each other’s highs and lows from high school on. Sam had told her about lost relationship after lost relationship, and Trista had told him about the jerks who she continually gravitated towards. They were very open with each other, talked of turn ons and turn offs, and sexual preferences. Their friends would tease them, saying that they should just get it on and get it over with. They, however, were too frightened of losing their friendship. Friendship is too valuable to lose over sex or lust.
Not, however, that they hadn’t considered it individually. But, the truth was, it was just too frightening a prospect to explore. So, they continued to travel through relationships like cars on the freeway.
Trista had just caught her latest beaux in a manage-a-trois—without her. She had stumbled into the apartment, a bit tipsy, and had discovered her boyfriend with a shapely brunette devouring his cock, and a wispy redhead feeding him her tits. She was shocked, but could not have counted on his reaction. “Come and join in, babe.” Trista had never lost it before. She prided herself on her calm decorum, and her ability to keep it together until she was out of sight. Tears rolled down her face as she grabbed the toaster, ripped it from the wall, and threw it across the room. She stomped upstairs and started to pack her things.
The next thing she knew, the redhead was in the room to see if she was ok. “No, I am not okay, but you go on down and finish your fuck and I’ll be out of your way.” The redhead grabbed her by the shoulders, wiped away her tears, and held her close. Trista could not believe it. This naked woman was comforting her after she had helped her boyfriend cheat. She pushed the girl away. “You make me sick.” She stumbled out of the bedroom with only one suitcase.
When she crossed through the living room, the brunette was smoking a cigarette, lounging in the chair that Trista had bough John for his birthday. It was enough to send Trista flying out the door as the brunette laughed at her.
Outside the door, she fumed. Why should she have to leave? Her name was on the lease. She thought momentarily about going back in to kick them out, but did not want to see them copulating again. She got in her car and calmed a bit. She drove her car to Sam’s, though it was more like the car was on autopilot.
She knocked on his door a dozen or so times. Finally, he opened the door, his hair disheveled, and said, “Trista, it’s three in the morning. What the hell are you doing here?”
Before she could answer, he saw her puffy eyes and the suitcase that was only partially closed. “Come on in.” He led her to the kitchen where he poured her a scotch. “Jesus, I thought this was the one. What happened?” She told him the seedy details and Sam’s mouth dropped. “He asked you to join in? What a cretin!”
By now, Trista was sobbing silently. “It’s just that I thought he loved me. I don’t think it is possible for men to love.” Josh acted as if he were offended. “Hey! I can love!” Trista laughed, “Not you, MEN!”
“Oh, so I am not a man?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know. You’re hurting. Let me draw you a bath.”
Trista sat drinking her scotch as she heard the water run. She got up and went into the bathroom, and stripped naked. Not caring that Sam was in the room, she slipped into the tub and soaked until the water was cold. Sam exited, realizing that she was in no condition to realize that she had just been naked in front of him.
He went into his bedroom and cleared off the bed for her. He was never much of a housekeeper, and Trista sometimes cleaned for him. He stripped the bed and put new sheets on the bed. The whole time, he couldn’t get the image of her naked body out of his mind. She was, perhaps, one of the sweetest women he knew. And, she was attractive. Now, she wasn’t a model, she had a bit of weight on her, but Sam loved that she was a real woman. Five foot four and about one fifty, she was curvaceous and real. Touchable. But he couldn’t think of that. He was her friend. And that was all.
Meanwhile, Trista was drying off, thinking of the depraved scene she had encountered. Standing back from her anger, she realized how, from an observer’s point of view, the image of two women on John was incredibly erotic. She was amazed at her thoughts. How could she be turned on by such a thing?
She made her way into the living room where Josh was laying on the couch. “I made up my bed for you.”
“No, I can sleep on the couch.”
“No arguments…go to bed.”
Knowing that he would not let her win, she slipped off into a fitful sleep of erotic images that shamed her to the core. She awoke, startled to realize that one image was of Sam fucking the redhead from behind while Trista masturbated. She pulled herself together and went into the kitchen.
Sam was just putting the last pancakes on a tray. “I was going to bring you breakfast.”
“I have been enough of a burden. I should cook for you.”
“Are you feeling better?”
“I’m not going to throw any toasters, if that is what you mean.”
“Look, T, I am sorry”
“No, I am sorry I came here so late last night. I know I should have kicked him out, but…”