"Gregg can be such a dickhead," I thought to myself. "He's a friend, and I like hanging around with him, but sometimes he's an asshole." I sighed, put down my glass of wine, and got off the couch.
"Where you going?" Gregg asked.
"The back deck. Between the cigars and your BS," I waved the Cuban that Gregg had given me and grinned as affably as I could at him, "I need a little fresh air."
"Sure, sure." Gregg stuck out his tongue at me and smiled, in a boyish way. He went back to talking with the group of friends that had gathered in his living room. The evening had started over drinks and dinner and had progressed to cigars, fine wine, and conversation about sex.
"Wait for me," Cindy called. She jumped up and followed me out the deck, letting the screen door slam behind us. Leaning on the railing in the cool night air I took a deep breath and I let my shoulders relax. "Gregg can be a real fuck-wad sometimes," Cindy said breaking the short silence.
I turned to her and smirked, "Yeah, I was thinking the exact same thing."
"I know Tracy. It was written all over your face."
"That obvious?"
"Maybe not to anyone else, but..." She let the sentence drift.
"Yeah ... not." Cindy and I were both Scorpios, strong, commanding, intense, passionate, and not afraid of a good fight. Neither one of us liked bullshit, especially from the other. It was one of the many things that made us great friends.
She was long and lean, athletic and muscula,; exceled at Martial Arts, had strong arms and legs, a taut butt, and 32 C breasts. Wavy natural blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and full lips topped her off. It was a deadly combination that had turned many a guy's head around in circles, though none had gotten a handle on her. Cindy remained single and saw plenty of action, but always on her own terms.
I looked like the Mutt to her Jeff. At five foot one, and slight with a 28 B bust, I was delicate compared to my friend. Flaming red hair and pale skin added to my soft appearance, making me look more like a fair Irish lassie, than the Midwestern farm girl I was. Despite my weaker-sex appearance, I could throw a bale of hay into a ten-foot loft, chase down a runaway steer and wrestle it to the ground, all without breaking a sweat. Those were not skills that I'd used since moving off the farm, but I kept myself in excellent shape and was confident that I could stand up to anyone, man or woman, without a problem.
Cindy and I had met shortly after moving to San Francisco to work in the software industry, which we'd learned could be just a rough and tumble as any truck stop biker bar, especially for women. Our shared Scorpio attitudes had helped our careers, and we'd rapidly advanced up the ranks in our respective companies. That was how we'd met Gregg and his cohort of friends. All of us were in the tech industry, all of us were very competitive, good at what we did, and all been very successful. Our multi-way friendships had grown over time. We spent many evenings and weekends together at one or another's homes eating, drinking, and just hanging out. That night Gregg had hosted a small get together after returning from a venture capital excursion to Cuba where he hoped to establish a new technology center. He had smuggled out the valuable cigars we were smoking, sharing them with us, along with his stock of excellent wine. Gregg was very generous, but a braggart and a gender-equality luddite.
"Okay, so it was kind of obvious," Cindy admitted. She took a puff on her cigar, letting the smoke slowly escape from her pursed lips and enshroud her like a halo. She drew in again. The tip flared bright red illuminating her gorgeous features. Her eyes subtly squinted and became more intense as she relished the flavor of the forbidden tobacco. "It's not like anyone else in the room was thinking differently."
"But nobody calls him out. That's what pisses me off," I replied. Cindy just nodded giving my Scorpio agitation free rein. "Who now-a-days really thinks that women don't have as much sex drive as men, or that we merely respond to a man's passion? He sounds like a freaking Neanderthal. And all the I'm-hot-as-shit stories that he tells. I think that he's full of it. No way he's the stud that he says he is."
Cindy just looked straight at me and didn't say anything, silently reminding me just how good looking Gregg was. At five foot ten, with blue eyes, dark hair, broad shoulders, rippling six-pack abs, and no more than five percent body fat, Gregg was definitely GQ, cover boy handsome. Women fawned over him every time we went out on public. "Okay, okay," I relented. "He's hot, but not
that
hot." I faltered under Cindy's challenging stare. "Alright, he
is
that hot, but he can still be an asshole."
Cindy laughed, "We've reached an agreement there." I couldn't help but laugh too. "I'm glad you see it my way," I said.
"Honey, you and I see a lot of things the same way." She hugged me around the waist and drew me in close. I sagged into her side. When Cindy kissed the top of my head, a shiver ran through me. Memories of the times we'd shared ourselves with each other ran through my mind. Neither of us were lesbians, or even particularly bisexual, but on several amazing evenings we had let our passions run wild and had incredible sex together. Nothing was ever planned, but more than once, we'd blended in the most mind-boggling way. It was our naughty and very special secret.
I extracted myself from her embrace afraid that our closeness and my memories might lead us where I didn't want to go that night. "I'd love to teach him a lesson." Cindy looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "I don't want to hurt him or anything, just make him realize that it's not all about him. No, not even that," I added trying to figure out what I was feeling. "It's like he's a fearless leader, commanding the mindless, empty woman that he's with. I wonder if he actually enjoys sex."
Cindy looked pensive, but stayed quiet.
"Gregg should learn how to loosen up. Maybe let a woman run the show."
"Perhaps he'd change his ways, discover something new and special," Cindy completed my thoughts and my sentence for me. We finished our cigars silently, each lost in our own meditations, and then went back into the house to join the rest of the group.
"Mi amigo you haven't lived until you've had a Cuban man." Daniela said with a heavy accent. The conversation obviously hadn't changed while we'd been outside. She was a dark-skinned beauty from Cuba and the one who had arranged Gregg's trip. "You say you've enjoyed two women at once, but you can't know ecstasy until you've taken your pleasure from a Cuban man ... or two of them, the way that I have."
