Chapter 25

The next week passed in the usual blur of routine. Twelve-hour days at work left us tired, but not so exhausted that we couldn’t enjoy our free time. Trip spent his evenings with Wren at the restaurant, while I somehow mustered the energy to spend mine at Angelo’s. The gym was a bit of an escape, since I didn’t have to think about anything more complex than footwork and combinations.

On Friday Trip suggested a quiet night at home. Wren and Colleen were having a girls’ night out with friends, and Trip wanted to talk to me about something. My brain immediately kicked into high gear, but then I did something unusual: I relaxed. I couldn’t do anything until we talked, so why get all worked up? I almost laughed at my composure. Who was I and what had I done with the real Paul Hughes?

After work, we cleaned up and ordered pizzas, which we systematically devoured, crust and all. Finally I asked what he wanted to talk about.

“I don’t really know where to start,” he said.

“Business or personal?”

“Personal.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Personal-me or personal-you?”

“Me. Well ... you too.”

“Ah. Wren.”

“Right in one. How’d you know?”

I shrugged. “She can be ... single-minded.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Is it about what I think?”

“Probably.”

I waited for him to continue, but he did his best statue impression. “Swinging?” I said at last.

He nodded.

“What about it? I mean, you actually have more experience than she does.”

“Yeah, but that isn’t the problem.”

“Okay, so what is?” He hesitated again, so I made an educated guess. “She wants to include another couple—another guy, at least—and you’re not so sure.”

“Right again. In one.”

“Let me see if I understand,” I continued. “You’re fine if Wren has sex with other women, and even doing it yourself—”

“I haven’t actually done it with anyone else.”

I leveled an inquisitor’s stare.

“Well, not all the way.”

“Okay. So, fooling around?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re okay with the idea. I mean, you don’t think it’s a threat if Wren has sex with another woman. And it isn’t a problem if you do, as long as Wren’s okay with it.”

“More or less.”

“But you don’t want her to have sex with another guy. That sounds fair.”

He winced at my sarcasm. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “It’s a double standard.”

I decided to cut him some slack. “Well, yes and no. Yes, it’s a double standard, but at least you both enjoy it with another woman.”

“Right. And what’s in it for me if she ... does it ... with another guy?”

“That’s kinda selfish,” I said in mild reproach. “I mean, you want Wren to enjoy herself, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And for you, it can be kinda fun to watch.”

“Okay, but how do you do it? Watch, I mean. Like that time with you and me and Kendall.”

“I dunno. Another guy having sex with my girlfriend doesn’t really bother me.”

“Don’t you feel like less of a man because you can’t keep her happy?”

“Not at all.” I tried to decide on the right analogy. “Think about you and me in business. You’re a better businessman, but I’m a better designer, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“But you have as much architectural training as I do. Are you ‘less of a man’ because you can’t do what I do?”

“No, of course not.”

“I can’t do what you do either, and it doesn’t bother me.”

“But that’s business. What’s it have to do with ... this?”

“It means that nobody’s good at everything all the time.”

“But I should be good enough for her.”

“And I should be better at business,” I replied. “But I’m not. So what? That’s why I have a partner.”

He gave that some thought and applied it to the situation with Wren.

“It doesn’t mean you don’t make her happy,” I told him. “It simply means that sometimes she’d like some variety.”

“I get that,” he said. “Intellectually. But I still don’t know.”

I nodded and let him work through his feelings.

“Does it ever bother you?” he asked. “Knowing that your girlfriend wants to do it with another guy?

“Why should it? It’s just sex. I mean, she loves me.”

“So you’re saying that sex and love aren’t the same thing.”

“You jerk off, don’t you?”

His brow furrowed at the non sequitur. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “Occasionally.”

“That’s sex, isn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“Is it love?”

“Duh. No.”

“And you love your little brothers, right?”

“Of course, but that’s different.”

“Is it?”

“I’d never have sex with them. That’s disgusting.”

“Well, yeah,” I admitted, “it is. But it still proves my point. You can love someone without having sex with them. And you can have sex with someone without loving them.”

“Can you?” he asked. “Really?”

“Sure. Did you love Kendall? The swinger women at camp?”

“Of course not.”

“But you had sex with them.”

“Okay, I get it. Sex and love are different. But I still don’t see how you can watch another guy do it with your girlfriend.”

“You enjoy seeing Wren get off, don’t you? And she gets off with other women, doesn’t she? So what’s the difference if she gets off with a guy?”

He blushed and avoided the obvious answer.

“Semen is just a bodily fluid,” I said, “like pussy juice.”

“Still...” He shuddered. “I don’t know if I want another guy shooting inside her.”

I shrugged philosophically. “You’re worried about sloppy seconds? Yeah, sure, I get it. I don’t like ‘em either. Some guys get off on that sort of thing, but not me.”

“Me neither.”

“Okay, then talk to her and set some ground rules. Swinging isn’t some wild free-for-all.”

He thought about it and nodded.

“My parents’ group has rules, and everyone follows them.” Most of the time, I thought, but kept it to myself. “In any case,” I continued, “you can do the same with Wren. You don’t have to give her carte blanche. If she knows you’re uncomfortable with something, she can avoid it and keep you happy.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Just talk to her beforehand. Also, make sure the other people feel the same, or at least understand.”

He nodded thoughtfully. Then he shook his head and chuckled with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Man, before I met you, I never would’ve imagined having this conversation.”

“Good. I’ve expanded your horizons.”

“No shit,” he said with a bemused grin.

“Well, Wren’s done most of it.”

“Yeah, maybe. But you helped a lot, especially tonight. Besides, you’re the one who introduced us to ... um ... the swinger lifestyle.”

“So you’re a swinger now?” I teased.

“Do you think Wren’s going to let this go until she gets what she wants?”

“No. So you might as well enjoy it. Besides, we’re not talking about just guys. Wren has really good taste in girls too.”

“Yeah, she does.”

“Tell the truth,” I said after a moment, “aren’t you a little excited about swinging for real?”

“Yeah, I guess I am. I wouldn’t be talking to you if I weren’t.”

I nodded.

“At least she asked me first,” he said. “She could’ve gone behind my back or just broken up with me.”

“That’s what love is,” I said. “Commitment. Trust. Sharing.”

He laughed unexpectedly. “I didn’t realize it’d mean sharing her!”

“You don’t have to. Not if you really don’t want to.”

“But that’d be the end of our relationship. Maybe not immediately, but definitely over time.”

“You’re probably right. And a bad friend would tell you not to do it, to say no. Then this so-called friend would be free to date Wren himself.”

He laughed. “You’re still miffed that she chose me instead.”

“Guilty.”

“So this is a win-win for you,” he accused facetiously. “She convinces me, and you get what you want. Or she leaves me, and you get what you want.”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Only one flaw in your plan,” he said after a moment. “You’re not a bad friend.”

“Dammit! I knew that would come back to bite me.”

We chuckled and then fell silent as he worked through the implications of everything I’d said.

“She does love you,” he said eventually, “but it isn’t the same.”

“No.”

“Isn’t the same at all,” he repeated, more to himself than me.

Wren returned around midnight, alone.

“Colleen went home with a friend,” she said.

I wondered idly if the friend was male or female. “What about your other friends?”

“What?” Her eyes flashed and then narrowed. “I thought you said—”

“Whoa! I did.” I placated her with a grin. “I just didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Ha ha.”

“Seriously, though,” I said, “thanks for not trying to set me up with anyone.”

She nodded and then shifted her attention to Trip. She raised an eyebrow with an unspoken question, which he answered with a nod. That gave me hope more than anything. If they were communicating, they weren’t likely to do anything without the other’s say-so.

We made small talk for a bit, but Wren clearly wanted to hear about our conversation. I didn’t want Trip to feel double-teamed, so I said goodnight and went to bed. I read for about an hour and then turned out the light. I’d nearly fallen asleep when I heard my door open.

“Are you awake?” Wren said quietly.

“Yeah,” I half-lied.

She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. After a moment’s indecision she came to the side of the bed and sat down.

I tried to read her expression, but couldn’t see her face in the darkness. I settled for body language instead. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just...” She sighed. “Thanks for talking to Trip. I think he’s decided to give it a try.”

“That’s good,” I said noncommittally.

“But ... I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. After the matchmaking thing...”

I nodded into the silence.

“You were right. I should’ve asked you first.”

“Thanks.”

“So I’m asking now...”

I laughed. “Isn’t it a bit late?”

“No, I’m asking...” She stared at her hands in her lap. “I know you don’t want to have sex with my friends, but...”

“But...?”

“Does that include me too?”

I almost laughed, but caught myself. “No,” I said softly.

“Oh, thank God. I thought you might’ve ... lost interest.”

She’d been close to tears, I realized, so I touched her leg. “I’m still interested,” I said. “Very.” I hesitated a moment and then slid my hand up her bare thigh. I flipped the hem of her T-shirt. “Take this off?”

She sat forward and pulled the tail from beneath her. Then she crossed her arms without hesitation and lifted the dark fabric. Her breasts swung free. She pulled the shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it aside.

I gently cupped her breast and felt her stiffen with anticipation. “You know I’ve always wanted you,” I said. “That hasn’t changed. You dating Trip...”

“Makes things a lot more complicated,” she finished.

“No kidding. But the wait...”

“Will be worth it.”

“Yeah.”

She sighed. “Just a bit longer.”

“I know. Still...” I caressed her nipple with my thumb.

“I love Trip,” she said, to herself as much as me.

“I know. But part of what I told Trip is that love and sex aren’t the same thing.”

She nodded. “He told me. I already feel that way, but...”

“But...?”

“It’s different with you,” she said, almost a whisper.

“You love me too.”

“Yes.”

“Just not like Trip.”

She shook her head.

I laughed, a bit ruefully. “He knows that I’m still disappointed that you chose him over me.”

“I still have feelings for you, though.”

“I know. That’s what makes it so hard.”

She avoided the subject by moving her hand to the sheet over my erection. “It is hard,” she said with feigned surprise. “So ... do you get off on love triangles?”

“Ha! No, I get off on women ... especially when they come to my room and play with my dick.”

“Who’s playing? I’m just touching.”

“Do you want to play?”

“We can’t go all the way.”

“I know,” I said. “Even though we both want to.”

“God, yes.” She released my shaft to let me pull back the sheet, but returned almost immediately. “Mmm, nice.”

I pulled her down for a kiss.

Her soft breasts pressed against my chest as her lips found mine. We kissed and felt a mutual flare of arousal, almost uncontrollable.

“I want you so bad,” she said at last, breathless.

I made a sound in my chest, half growl, half yearning.

She slid into bed beside me. Her lips returned to mine as her hand found my cock.

I cupped her ass and pulled her against me.

She began stroking in earnest.

After several intense minutes I groaned, “Where do you want me to come? Your mouth?”

“Uh-uh. Not yet.”

“Oh, okay. Kleenex?”

“You must go through a box a week.”

“It’s your fault! You’ve been throwing women at me all summer.”

“Do you ever think of me when you jerk off?”

“Why torture myself with something I can’t have?”

“You can have me,” she said in a husky whisper, “any way you like.” She increased her tempo and concentrated on making me come. “But for now...”

I barely had time to yank a handful of Kleenex from the box. My cock swelled with the first surge of orgasm, and I frantically handed the wad of tissues over Wren’s shoulder. I wasn’t used to catching with my right hand, so I almost missed the first spurt.

Wren’s breath felt hot on my skin. “That’s it,” she urged, “come for me.”

I arched my back as she coaxed another blast into the tissues. She pumped again and again, milking me until I finally sagged to the mattress. Then she took the come-filled wad of Kleenex and gently cleaned my deflating cock.

I breathed deeply through my nose.

“Next time you can come in my mouth,” she said.

“Promise?”

“Mmm hmm.” She practically vibrated with excitement. “And then I want you to fuck me.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

She laughed and kissed me. “I’d better go.”

I rolled her to her back before she could get away. She hissed in surprise when I probed her pussy. She was well-lubricated, and her lips parted easily. I teased her clit and then buried a finger inside her.

She groaned and tried to squirm away.

“Not yet.” I withdrew my hand and let her breathing return to normal.

“I don’t know if I can wait,” she said at last.

“You’ll survive. And in the meantime...”

“Yeah, I’d better go.”

“You’re going to attack Trip, aren’t you? Whether he’s asleep or not.”

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do,” I said. “That’s why I’m so eager to fuck you.”

She pulled me down for a kiss. After a moment she slid from beneath me and stood. She found her T-shirt on the floor, turned it right-side out, and thrust her arms through the holes. She looked down at me once she pulled the shirt over her head. Then she calmly ran her fingers through her hair and tugged it free of the neck. “Do I look okay?”

“I’d do you.”

She laughed. “Soon.”

“Soon,” I agreed.

Dad and Erin came home the next day, he from a weeklong series of trips and she from the cruise with our grandparents. Dad was worn out, but Erin entertained us through dinner with stories of Spain, Italy, and Greece. She was still full of energy afterward, so she went dancing with Trip and Wren. I solidified my homebody reputation and told them to have fun without me. I had a quiet evening and went to bed at a disgustingly decent hour.

The next morning I woke early and went for a run, even though it was Sunday. I returned to find Erin leaving the guest bedroom, mussed and carrying her clothes. She managed to look both guilty and defiant, but I couldn’t blame her for doing exactly what I wanted to do. Still, I had fun making her think I disapproved.

Leah also came home that weekend, although I only heard about it when she called Erin. A small part of me felt disappointed that she hadn’t called me instead, but I told myself that she was moving on with her life. She was happy with Mark, so I decided to be happy for her. In any event, she and Erin were planning to fly to camp the next day with Dad, so I wouldn’t have to curb any urges where she was concerned either.

Life returned to normal on Monday. We were still behind schedule, so Trip and Mike made the decision to ask the Franklin men to work evenings and weekends. Jim and I were included, of course, although our “overtime” would only pay if we sold the houses for a profit, preferably a large one.

The crew also finished work on my parents’ hot tub, although Trip and I were so busy that we didn’t have time to christen it properly. I didn’t really have anyone to christen it with, either, but I held out hope that Trip was ready to give swinging a try. Alas, we were working twelve-hour days, seven days a week, and neither of us had the time or energy for any extracurricular fun.

We also reached the point where the realtor could start showing the houses. The rancher was more or less finished, except for the gazebo and backyard landscaping. Trip and Mike wanted to eliminate the former and scale back the latter, but I stuck to my guns, and Jim backed me all the way.

Still, Mike reassigned our crew to help with the Colonial, so Jim and I built the gazebo ourselves. For good measure, we used leftover lumber to add an arbor, which the landscaper planted with climbing roses. We were still working when the realtor scheduled an open house. A surprising number of people showed up. Several were couples who’d heard about it from Wren. She’d been talking us up at the restaurant, apparently. PR in action.

Speaking of Wren, we celebrated her twenty-first birthday with a party in the private dining room at the restaurant. Colleen and a bunch of other friends were there, along with servers and staff who popped in to celebrate with us. I drank too much and barely fended off Colleen’s advances. She didn’t take it personally, though, and I wondered what the hell I was doing. What would it hurt to sleep with her? Fortunately (for both of us), she gave up on me and left with a bad-boy-type bartender.

I was still a little drunk when I dragged myself out of bed and went for a run in the morning. I was more or less sober by the time I finished, but I’d begun to regret every drink from the night before. My hangover reached the dull-ache, queasy-stomach stage about the time I arrived at the house to meet Jim. He laughed at my sorry appearance but had plenty of his own experience with hangovers at work. Instead of giving me grief, he picked up my slack as we finished our final punch list and packed up our tools.

The next day we joined Trip and the crew at the Tudor. We worked like dogs until the end of the month, but Mike still beat us by a day. The Colonial had been a lot more work, but the double-sized crew had given him the edge. We passed inspection on all three houses, of course, but Trip still had to argue with the inspector several times. They went back and forth on codes and amendments. Trip won a few points but conceded the rest, which we promised to fix within twenty-four hours.

On the first of September we closed on two houses, the Colonial and Tudor. I was happy to see them go to couples who were excited to move in with their families. We broke even on the Tudor (barely) and cleared a nice profit on the Colonial, enough to pay bonuses to the men, with a little left over for each of the principals.

We’d planned to close on the rancher the same day, but we still didn’t have a signed contract. Trip and Mike were worried about it, but I took a more sanguine view.

“It’ll sell,” I promised. “And for more than we’re asking.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Mike accused. Then, “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Yes,” I said, and left it at that, mostly to annoy him.

Jim gave me a smirk.

He and I had talked to the realtor after one of the showings. Three couples were serious about the rancher, and they were bidding against each other. The realtor was nearly beside herself as the price kept increasing, her commission along with it.

A doctor/lawyer couple eventually made an offer that put an end to the bidding. Trip and Mike knew what was going on by then, but the realtor still managed to surprise us. Trip did a double take when he saw the final offer. Mike stared at the number with his fillings on display. Even Jim and I were stunned.

“We close next Wednesday,” the realtor said. She produced a pen. “Sign here.”

“I guess this means Jim and I won,” I said as Trip signed for us.

“Won what?” the realtor asked, still euphoric.

“We had a little competition, whose house would bring the most profit.”

“Wasn’t even close,” she said. She looked at Trip and Mike. “You owe these guys. The backyard drove the bidding. Everyone wanted it.”

“Well, fuck me,” Mike said in wonder. Then he remembered the realtor. “Uh, pardon my language.”

“Don’t mention it.” She gave him an appraising look.

He turned a brighter shade of red.

We chuckled at his expense, and the realtor winked at me as she turned to go.

“Have a good weekend,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll call with the closing details.”

Mike shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, college boy.”

“So you’ll keep me?”

“Keep you? I could kiss you!”

I tried to back away, but Jim blocked my escape. Traitor.

Mike didn’t kiss me after all, but my ribs creaked from the force of his enthusiasm.

“D’you realize,” he said when he put me down, “that you just doubled our profits?”

“Nearly tripled ‘em,” Trip said, “if my math is right.”

“Doubled, tripled, even better!”

Mike’s giddiness infected us all, but I still wanted Jim’s opinion.

He gave me a slight bow. Good job. Then a grin. For a college kid.

We threw a big party for the crew and their wives that night, and Wren outdid herself with the planning. She’d reserved a banquet room at her father’s original restaurant, laid out with a huge buffet and open bar. She’d even booked a DJ, who came with his own dance floor, lights, and disco ball.

After dinner Trip made a speech and thanked the men for their hard work. Mike added a few words and then returned the microphone.

“Most of you know,” Trip began, “that we promised bonuses when we sold the houses. Sort of a profit-sharing incentive.” He paused for a round of applause. “But ... I have a little bad news. We still haven’t sold the rancher.” He weathered a chorus of groans. “However...”

I realized with a grin that he’d rehearsed his speech before the party, probably with Wren’s help. She had a ringmaster’s natural talent, and her touches showed in his delivery. He let the pause draw out before he produced a stack of white envelopes.

“Good news! We have a signed contract, and we close next week.”

Applause and cheers.

He waited for them to die down before he made a stage-grimace. “These aren’t the bonuses we originally planned.”

Back to groans.

“Jim and Paul decided to stick to the original plan, which is why we couldn’t close on the rancher.”

Men didn’t outright glare, but the mood at the other tables turned cool. Jim and I were sitting with the men from our crew, who instinctively closed ranks. They knew us better than the rest, well enough to know that we hadn’t done anything to sabotage the sale.

“Mike and I wanted to eliminate a couple of things,” Trip went on, “to save time and money. But they overruled us.”

A couple of guys at the other tables realized that Trip was setting them up. They’d worked with Jim and knew he was too sensible to do anything stupid. They might not trust me, but they definitely trusted him. Most of the others still looked resentful, but the clever ones relaxed and watched with smug anticipation.

“They spent the extra money on the landscaping,” Trip explained, “and they went ahead and built the gazebo. They even built a rose arbor.” He realized that resentment would quickly become anger, so he dropped the other shoe. “As a result, we had a three-way bidding war!”

Some of the resentful men were too slow to realize what that meant, but the rest sat up in surprise.

“We haven’t closed yet,” Trip cautioned, “but we have a contract, and the profit is ... pretty impressive.” He grinned and waved the envelopes. “So these aren’t what we originally planned. But—”

“Fer cryin’ out loud,” someone hollered, “just tell us.”

“I hope your wallets are big enough, ‘cause they’re going to be full!”

The room erupted. The men around Jim and me slapped our backs and beamed at us.

“Paul and Jim should give out the bonuses,” Trip said when the cheers and whistles died down. “What do you think, Mike?”

“Fine by me.” He looked at me and nodded his approval, for more than just the bonuses.

Jim and I made our way to the front of the room, where Trip handed over the microphone.

I cleared my throat nervously. “Trip already said enough for both of us...”

The men laughed and nodded.

“And besides, you’ll probably riot if we don’t end the suspense.”

“You got that right!”

Trip divided the stack of envelopes and handed them to Jim and me. Each had a man’s name in Wren’s neat handwriting. The hubbub grew as Jim and I handed them out. Every envelope contained nearly a month’s pay, in cash, for the man who received it.

Trip gave a cue when we finished, and Wren turned down the room lights. The DJ lit his strobes and dropped the needle on his turntable. The sound of drums and horns filled the room, and I had to laugh at Trip’s music selection.

“Celebration,” of course, by Kool & the Gang.

I woke up with a hangover the next day, but it wasn’t too bad. I hadn’t drunk nearly as much as some of the men. We’d sent a few of them home in cabs, and several couples had spent the night in a nearby hotel.

I skipped my usual run and ate breakfast with Trip and Wren instead. By unspoken agreement we decided to do as little as possible the rest of the day. Not surprisingly, we ended up at Wren’s pool.

Late in the afternoon she rose from her lounge chair and folded her towel. “I need to run to the butcher and market,” she said.

Trip asked what was for dinner.

“Don’t know yet. I’ll see what looks good when I get there. Back in about an hour.” She bent and gave him a kiss and then waved to me.

We watched her go, probably with the same thoughts.

I felt a twinge of guilt for openly admiring my best friend’s girlfriend, but Trip knew how I felt. He also knew that I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our friendship. Still, he set off alarms when he said he wanted to talk to me.

“Sure,” I said, a bit too mildly. “What’s up?”

He read my expression and actually laughed. “Not about Wren. Things are ... I mean, we’re still ... moving forward ... as far as the ‘you know’ is concerned.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s good.”

“It’s ... um ... about Erin.”

“My sister Erin?”

“Yeah.” It was his turn to look nervous, and my turn to laugh.

“I’m not the overprotective big brother type,” I said.

“So you know...? About ... what happened?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I saw her coming out of your room.”

“We thought she left early enough.”

“I woke up at the crack of dawn and went for a run.”

“How come you didn’t say anything?”

I shrugged. “None of my business. I mean, Erin can do what she wants. She’s actually pretty grown-up for seventeen. A lot more than I was at her age.”

“Yeah, but still ... she’s your sister.”

“And you’re my best friend. So? No big deal.”

He blinked in disbelief. “Man, sometimes I forget about your upbringing.”

“Yeah, it was different.”

“I’ll say.” He paused to size me up. “So ... you’re not upset?”

“That you had sex with Erin?”

“Whoa! I didn’t have sex with her.”

“Why not?”

“I ... um ... felt guilty. She wanted to, and Wren was all for it, but ... I chickened out at the last second.”

“That was dumb.”

He rolled his eyes in frustration. “Are you kidding? You want me to sleep with your sister?”

“If she wants to,” I shrugged. “Like I said, none of my business. Well, it sort of is now, ‘cause you brought it up, but really, it’s between you and Erin.”

“So you’d be okay if I ... went all the way?”

“Are you kidding? You’d be an idiot not to.”

“I still can’t wrap my head around this.”

“Think about it from my perspective,” I said. “First, Erin can make her own decisions. She doesn’t need my permission for anything. Second, you make Wren happy, so you’re obviously good in bed. And third, you don’t tell the world about your conquests. So yeah,” I finished, “I’d totally be okay if you had sex with Erin.”