Chapter 1: A Threesome Next Door

I grinned and waved wildly and uncharacteristically at my wife of over twenty years. I was in Delta Airlines Sky Club at O’Hare Airport. We were both heading home, only we’d come to Chicago from two different cities where we’d been working all week – hers only a few miles away and mine a four-hour flight away. I had a connection there in order to get to Tampa at a good time.

Ginger Carson, whose name I often shortened to Gin, and I were management consultants. We were both experts based on years of experience in mergers and acquisitions, and on reengineering companies’ major business processes. I’d been on the west coast all week with a high tech company that happened to have a couple of billion burning a hole in their back pocket. They had their eye on three different companies, but couldn’t decide which to buy or whether to buy all three or none at all.

Gin had been nearby at a large international pharmaceuticals company doing similar work for them as they considered how to buttress their own weak R&D portfolio with that of one or two other smaller companies with promising ethical drugs in various stages of clinical testing and application for acceptance by the FDA. She’d done other pharmas before, so had a good reputation in the industry.

We greeted and kissed. She asked, “Steve! You been here long?”

“About two hours,” I told her. I didn’t mind hanging out at the Sky Club. Both Ginger and I flew so much that they’d given us free memberships in the club. Between flights, it was a comfortable place to hang out and work. We’d even held client meetings in the club’s conference rooms at various airports.

I told Gin, “I passed up the earlier flight to Tampa so I could wait for you.” That earned me a second and more meaningful kiss and a full body hug. We both blushed as we parted. About a hundred people waiting for their flights were watching us.

Even at forty-two Ginger was a ‘looker’. Despite having two children with me she hadn’t ever lost her figure, and what a figure it was. Her legs were just perfect and shapely. She was lithe, sexy, and busty. Even in the business suit she was wearing, she attracted every male eye in the airline lounge. About fifteen years earlier, in her twenties, a mentor had coached her about looking professional. As a result she darkened her red hair to more of a brunette color so it wasn’t so ‘in your face’, and learned how to dress for success. Her only complaint was she needed to eat like a bird and about her slightly sagging breasts – this after nursing two kids. She’d also learned how to wear spike heels of just the right height to amplify her stature and make her legs look great, without appearing slutty or domineering.

As for me, I had been athletic in college without being on any varsity teams. I was constantly in pickup basketball games and I ran cross-country. Once out of college, I kept up the running. I always had running shoes, shorts, and a singlet in my bag, so always had an outlet for exercise even when on the road. I’d run in some amazing places, too – downtown London, Paris, Rome, Rio, and a few other foreign countries. I was in shape, reasonably buff but I did drink and eat too much, and sat on my ass way too much.

The mostly male audience in the flight lounge went back to their own business once Ginger sat with me and crossed her sexy legs. She was in a touchy-feely mood, too; which gave my ego a boost as she sent messages to all the other males that she already had picked out ‘her man’.

Gin sat next to me at another work carrel. I could see the club door from mine so I’d been looking for her arrival. I’d been able to track her whereabouts on my iPhone because we each had the ‘Find Friends’ app. We compared notes on our week and my flights. I’d swapped texts with her earlier about where we’d meet and then how close she was. We talked every evening when we were apart, and had for the twenty-one years we’d been married. We’d been college sweethearts and married the summer after we both graduated. We both went to grad school, even as we had children. I got an MBA and Gin an MS in information systems and technology.

We both zonked out on the plane heading home sleeping as we held hands. We were in first class and were thankful the plane was early into Tampa. We ate dinner at the airport, chatting further about the sticky issues our consulting clients were facing. We also talked about two new leads for business that I’d fielded from other companies while I’d been on the west coast. Having some overlapping clients was highly desirable in our business lest one or both of us find ourselves sitting on our duffs without any billable hours.

I’d driven us to the airport on the previous Sunday afternoon, so we took my car home. Gin had talked to our oldest daughter the evening before so had some news she could share about the hot boy she’d met and how she was putting on a full-court press to earn the title ‘girlfriend’ with the guy. We laughed at her antics. Gin knew more details but spared the girl’s father (me!) some of the more sordid ones.

Our son Ethan was also at college but was less communicative than his older sister. A normal conversation with him consisted of a number of grunts, ‘Oh yeahs’, and usually a request for money. At least Jillian was subtler. Jillian had gone to school on the west coast; Ethan was in college not quite three hours north of us in Florida.

Gin and I had a house on the water on a little bay just a few miles on the south side of the Sunshine Skyway Bridge – Palma Sola Bay. I figured out that the year before the house had only been occupied about a third of the time. The rest we were away on our travels. Rarely were Gin and I in the same city at the same time except when we were home on most weekends. Staying somewhere over a weekend was not a new experience for either of us.

I pulled into our neighborhood and instantly noticed the change. “Hey, look. The Morris home has been cleaned up. Somebody’s living there, too. See the cars in the driveway.” Every time I came home from being away for a week I felt as though I’d been away for months and that the whole neighborhood had changed. The old Morris home stood on one side of our house and a wide creek feeding the Palma Sola bay on the other.

We pulled in our own driveway and garage, but I walked out and gazed next door. The grass had been mowed, the forest of scrub brush near the street was gone, and some of the dead palm fronds that had accumulated around the yard were also gone, along with the accumulation of unsolicited newspapers. The place looked clean and crisp again, the first time in over a year while the property had been on the real estate market. I’d often gone over and done a few things to keep the place from looking like a crack house or someplace to squat, but since I wasn’t around a lot, I’m not sure I made all that much of a difference. I did talk to the realtor at one point and made sure there were lights on timers in the place.

Gin and I unpacked our bags and started our Friday evening washes. We were both tired, and had gained an hour in the flight to Tampa, so we were just about ready for bed. After we’d been home about two hours, had processed most of the mail, I locked up and we headed to our master bedroom to sleep.

After I’d washed up Gin took my place for her ablutions. I walked into the darkened master bedroom and glanced out the window at what had been the Morris home. We overlooked their back and side yard from that window. My eyes kind of bugged out of my head.

To help with his aging arthritis and joint pain, Jake Morris had a Jacuzzi installed on the patio near his swimming pool. His widow, Jenny, never used it, so it had sat idle for the past four years until she too passed away. Their kids didn’t want the house, so it went onto the market.

Now, in the Jacuzzi, were three nude people. I knew they were nude because I caught a glimpse of them just stepping into the bubbling tub – a young man and two shapely women.

As I looked, I moved away from the direct window and only peeked out one corner. The young man was sitting with a girl close-by on either side of him. He took turns kissing each of them, and then the two women leaned across his body and kissed. He made a point of putting his arms around both of them, and I could see his hands move and cup a generous helping of female tit flesh from each of them. They continued to make out.

I looked back as Ginger stepped out of the bathroom in her nightshirt, and turned off the light. One result was that I could see the Jacuzzi better, and the bathroom light in the window also didn’t backlight me when I stood in front of it.

I turned away, but wished I could have watched longer. Gin asked, “What were you looking at?”

I grinned and gestured, “Sssssh! Our new neighbors are in the Jacuzzi near our hedge. Two women and a man, and they’re naked and romantic together. Interesting.”

Gin smiled and teased, “I might have a better offer.” She lifted the bottom edge of her nightshirt until I could see her bare pussy.

I nodded in a significant way, “Yep, a way better offer.” I shucked away the t-shirt I’d just put on and kicked the running shorts I slept in aside.

I moved to Ginger, pulled the nightshirt over her head, and after a couple of kisses paid attention to my wife’s breasts. Gin moaned and held my head as she tried to kiss me again. One of her hands also groped around in my groin for what we’d missed sharing all week.

“Hi” a pleasant male voice sounded as I knelt pulling some misguided and unwanted newspaper out of the bushes in front of my house. The bushes were unruly and collected just about everything that blew around the neighborhood.

I turned. “Hello. Are you our new neighbor?” I posed.

“Doug Reed at your service. Yes, we moved in Tuesday, but if you saw inside our house you’d wonder whether we were making any progress at all unpacking. Cardboard boxes in every direction.”

“I’m Steve Carson.” We shook hands. “When I got home from our travels last evening I thought the old Morris home looked different and lived in. Welcome.” I glanced at the house, “Do you have time for a cup of coffee. I’d love for you to meet my wife, Ginger.”

“I do, and thank you.” Doug followed me inside, and we found Gin in the kitchen preparing a grocery list. She looked surprised that I was escorting a visitor.

I did the introduction thing, and got us all coffees, and then we sat in our living room and learned about each other. We each did a short bio.

Gin and I learned that Doug taught electrical engineering at the nearby university. He was in his mid-thirties, and married to Jo and Beth.”

“Joann Beth?” Ginger asked, wanting to be sure she heard the name right.

Doug corrected, “Errr, that’s two women actually: Jo ... AND ... Beth. Jo is actually Josephine, but if you call her that she’ll scratch your eyes out. It’s just Jo. She’s a CPA and works for Coplin Manufacturing in Bradenton. Beth, my other wife, is an artist. She has a gallery downtown, but she’s staffed it up pretty well, so doesn’t need to be there much. She’s one of the reasons we bought the Morris house; it has perfect light for an artist in the sunroom on the other side of the house.”

Ginger pushed a little harder as her eyebrows nearly rotated off her forehead, “You’re married to two women?”

Doug nodded. “Yes. One is legal as far as the government is concerned, but we don’t distinguish amongst ourselves except at tax time. We made commitments to each other. This is our third year together, but our first time with the three of us living together.”

I gave a questioning look.

Doug explained, “Three years ago Jo and I had a tiny house in Ruskin. The commutes were a bear, but the price for the house and its view were just right for our limited wallets.

“I met Beth at a cocktail party at the university. I was gob smacked. I told Jo, we invited her over, and she had the same reaction. Beth did, too. We were instantly in love and lust with each other. We invited her to move in, but she wanted to wait. Eventually, we convinced her and we’ve been looking for a place ever since.”

Doug got a worried look on his face. “I know that polyamory is not for everyone. I hope we’re not offending you by living together. I promise we’re not loud party or orgy kind of people.”

Ginger and I both laughed. “We’re fine,” I assured him. “‘Chacun à son goût’, as the French say.”

Doug visibly relaxed, “Thank you. We’ve run into some severe reactions to our living arrangement, and I don’t mean nice stuff. Maybe someday I’ll share, but I’ll tell you it’s one of the reasons we’ve moved. In the meanwhile, I am grateful for the coffee. I would like Beth and Jo to meet you. If you see any or all of us in the yard, please say hello. We’re social beings despite our unusual threesome.”

Doug left and Ginger and I went back to our weekend tasks. We were a little more relaxed about them because neither of us had to travel for the next two weeks. We’d be at home or the university library where we had privileges doing research to help our clients.

Saturday afternoon, I came huffing and puffing up Palma Sola Boulevard from the south, as a young woman came running huffing and puffing down the street from the north. We both walked off the last hundred yards, and ended up standing at the end of our driveways about twenty feet apart.

I said, “You must be either Jo or Beth?”

The young woman broke into a wide grin. “I’m Beth.” She came over to me as I strolled towards her. She was beautiful, athletic, and shapely. I could see and even viscerally feel the attraction I had for her. No wonder Doug and Jo had succumbed to her charms.

Beth was early thirties, brunette, long hair tied back in a ponytail, and flirty eyes. She was tan, obviously from an outdoor exercise regime. She had great legs, a tight little ass, and breasts that her sports bra couldn’t quite hide.

We completed our introductions, shook hands, and I asked some questions about their move and how they were coming with unpacking. She moaned. “I don’t think we’ll ever be fully unpacked. I wish we had a basement to shovel everything into. Instead, I doubt we’ll ever be able to use the garage.”

I commented about how things in cardboard boxes usually mildewed when left in an un-air-conditioned garage. She nodded her acknowledgment.