Chapter 20: Three’s Company

Los Angeles, California

December 25, 1995

The storm had blown over, but Jake and Laura ended up spending Christmas Eve in LA instead of flying home as they had planned. Laura had been the one to advocate for staying in the hated city. Her arguments: they would just have to fly back on Christmas Day anyway to be present at the family celebration at Pauline’s house, who knew what the weather would be like on Christmas Day (Jake actually did know, it was forecast to be calm and clear with light winds and a high in the low 60s), the presents we got for each other are already here in LA so it will save us the trouble of flying them home to open them, Elsa won’t be there anyway because she went home to Orange County to be with her family, and ... oh ... it will give me an opportunity to have lunch with Molly.

And so, they stayed. Jake went out and found a little Christmas tree and a few lights to put up. Laura went out and had lunch with her new friend Molly, the physical therapist who rented a room to Eric the creepy violinist. Shortly after Laura returned from her lunch with Molly, she initiated a session of hot, enthusiastic sex with Jake (a correlation that did not go unnoticed by Jake) and then, at 4:30, after a nap and a shower, they drove over to the Nerdlys and had Christmas Eve dinner with Bill, Sharon, and little Kelvin—although, of course, they did not call it Christmas Eve dinner, but dinner for the seventh day of Hanukkah.

That night, as they climbed into bed together, Laura informed him that she had invited Molly and Eric to the family Christmas gathering.

“You did what?” Jake asked, raising his eyebrows a bit.

“I already cleared it with Pauline,” she said. “She’s fine with it. She has plenty of food.”

“I’m sure she does, but ... none of us have even met this Molly person. Doesn’t she have somewhere to go on Christmas besides our gathering?”

“She doesn’t,” Laura said. “And neither does Eric. They were just going to spent it alone in their house. Isn’t that depressing?”

“Uh ... I suppose,” Jake allowed.

“We’ll just have the limo swing by Toluca Lake to pick them up,” Laura said. “It’s pretty much on the way.”

Jake, too tired to engage in an argument that really was not that important—and that he most likely would not win anyway—agreed to this plan.

They woke up just past nine o’clock in the morning. Jake put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Laura remained dressed in the long t-shirt she had slept in. They went downstairs and Jake brewed up a pot of Jamaican Blue. They each poured themselves a cup and then went into the family room to open their presents from each other.

Laura received an original 1958 vinyl recording of Dizzy Gillespie at Newport, a rare find that Jake had discovered on the online auction website that Nerdly had introduced him to. Her grand gift was a crystal and brass statue of a tenor saxophone, something that had cost Jake four thousand dollars. Laura absolutely loved both gifts.

Jake’s first gift was a bag of socks, which he expressed a respectable amount of fake enthusiasm for. His second was a bottle of expensive cologne—the scent of which Laura was particularly fond of. His grand gift was in a larger package. Jake did not know what the grand gift was, but he did know she had spent eleven thousand dollars on it. The reason he knew this was because an outraged Jill had called him up two weeks before to complain about the charge on Laura’s credit card. Jake had nonchalantly told her not to worry about it, which had ramped up the level of accountant outrage by a factor of at least 3.14.

“Don’t worry about it?” Jill cried, as if he had told her not to worry about nuclear terrorism, or global warming. “Eleven thousand dollars for a Christmas present? That’s even worse than what you spent on her!”

“Don’t tell me where she bought it, Jill,” Jake told her. “That might ruin the surprise.”

“Are you going to talk to her about this?” Jill asked, exasperated.

“No,” he said. “But hopefully, for that much money, it’s something she put some thought into.”

It turned out that she had put some thought into it. He unwrapped the package and discovered an acoustic guitar inside—an old acoustic guitar that looked like it had seen much better days. And it was not even close to being in tune when he strummed it. But it was not just any old guitar. A legal and proper certificate of authentication came with it. It was the very Harmony Sovereign H-1260 that Jimmy Page, one of Jake’s heroes and major influences, had played when recording the songs Gallows Pole and Since I’ve Been Loving You on the Led Zeppelin III album and onstage during the tour that supported it.

“How did you find this?” an astonished Jake asked.

“Obie helped me out tracking it down,” she said. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” he told her. “I feel like I’m holding the freakin’ Holy Grail in my hands. I’m going to hang it right next to my Les Paul Les Paul. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile. “You’re very hard to buy for you know. What do you get a guitarist who has enough money to buy anything he wants? Well ... a guitar, of course, but a guitar that has meaning.”

“You did good, hon,” he told her, leaning in and giving her a kiss. She returned it with much enthusiasm.

They drank their coffee and then Jake made them chili-cheese omelets for breakfast. After eating, they both cleaned up the kitchen. Jake then phoned his parents to wish them a merry Christmas (they were staying home with the parental Nerdlys for the holiday even though Jake, Pauline, and Bill had all offered to have the entire group of them flown south). After that, Laura suggested they flame a bowl in honor of the birth of Christ.

“Sure,” Jake said. “Why not?”

Laura retrieved her LA stash box—a round Tupperware container designed for leftover soup or chili—from the entertainment room. They went out onto the backyard patio and sat down at the granite table Jake had put out there. The weather was pleasant enough, but a bit on the cool side, so Laura went back inside and retrieved her fuzzy white robe. She then opened up the stash box and pulled out a baggie of potent, skunky-smelling bud, a pipe, and a lighter. She quickly loaded up the pipe with a respectable hit and passed it over to Jake.

“Thanks,” he said, flicking the Bic and sucking down the smoke.

They took two hits apiece in honor of the birth of the Savior. That was all that was needed. They sat in silence for a bit, looking out at the view of the San Fernando Valley below them, each lost in their own thoughts. The sky was clear, with very little in the way of smog (as least as far as it went for the LA basin) and even the freeways and the major arteries visible to them were lightly traveled due to the holiday.

“So...” Jake finally said, breaking the silence, “what’s the deal with your friend Molly?”

Laura looked over at him, her eyes half-lidded and a little red, her fuzzy robe pulled tightly around her shoulders, her copper-colored hair in a state of disarray that she would allow no one but Jake to see. Her face blushed a little, but she did not evade his question. “She’s a lesbian,” she said simply.

“Really now?” Jake asked, raising his eyebrows.

“A very ... uh ... attractive lesbian,” Laura added.

“Is that a fact?” he asked, his interest ramping up a bit.

“It is,” she said. “She’s forty, but looks thirty, maybe thirty-two at the most. Nice body, nice boobs, pretty face.” She smiled whimsically as she thought about it. “Oh ... and she’s a very nice person too.”

“I would hope so,” Jake said. “She told you she was a lesbian?”

“She did,” Laura said. “On the night I picked up Eric from the hospital and took him home.”

“She volunteered that information?” Jake asked.

“Yes,” Laura said. “I had a couple of glasses of wine with her after we got Eric to bed and ... well ... it just kind of came up in the conversation.”

“Interesting,” Jake said, nodding his head a little. “What are your intentions with her?”

“My intentions?”

“Your intentions,” Jake said. “We’ve had this conversation before, remember? You are free to indulge in your bisexual leanings if you so desire, as long as it is done openly, without deceit.”

“I understand,” she said quietly.

“Is that why you are developing this relationship with her? Do you want to ... indulge?”

Laura nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I want to put my hands and my mouth on her. I want to feel her hands and her mouth on me.”

“I see,” Jake said, feeling Little Jake starting to poke his head up in interest. “And does she know about your tastes in women?”

Laura nodded again. “I told her I was bisexual,” she said. “And then I shared my ... you know ... my stories with her.”

“You told her about watching Neesh’s friend eat Neesh out while she was in her wedding dress?”

Laura smiled fondly. “I didn’t use names, but I told her the story—about Neesh, about Tally doing that to me after, and about the bartender and the groupies down in South America.”

“Did she like the stories?”

“Yes,” Laura said, licking her lips a little. “She said the story about Neesh was one of the hottest things she’d ever heard of.”

“Really?” Jake said, smiling. It was one of the hottest things he had heard of as well—and he had heard and done a lot in his time. “But ... you two didn’t do anything that night?”

“No,” Laura said. “Of course not.”

“Why not?” Jake asked. “Is she not attracted to you?”

“On the contrary,” Laura said. “Once I told her I was bi, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of me. And she got very flirtatious.”

“Then why didn’t you go for it? You had my permission, as long as you told me about it after.”

“We’d just met,” Laura said.

“So?” Jake asked, wondering what that had to do with anything.

“Women aren’t like men, sweetie,” she told him. “We don’t just jump into bed with each other the first time we meet. Women move slowly.”

“Why?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, exasperated. “Because we do.”

Jake gave a shrug, as if to say, ‘to each their own’. “All right,” he said. “I guess I can get behind that. I don’t understand it, but I can get behind it.”

“Glad to hear it,” Laura said.

“What’s the plan?” Jake asked.

“The plan?”

“Yeah,” he said. “To get her into the sack. Are you making your move tonight?”

Laura shook her head in consternation. “There is no plan,” she said. “I’m just trying to spend a little time with her, get to know her better, see where things lead.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Laura said, rolling her eyes this time. “Once again, Jake, we’re women. Women have to build up to things like ... you know... doing it with each other.”

“You and Neesh’s friend didn’t really build up to it,” he reminded her.

“Well ... that’s true, but Tally is not your typical woman. That was more of a ... well ... an opportunistic thing that happened because of the circumstances.”

“Couldn’t this thing with you and Molly be like that?”

“No,” she said. “Molly is different than Tally; and these circumstances are different.”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know how to describe it,” she said.

Jake gave a little shake of the head. “You women are kind of complicated,” he said.

“You’re just now figuring that out?” she asked him.

He smiled. “Good point.”

A companionable silence fell upon them again, with Laura seemingly lost in her own thoughts while Jake turned over the image of his wife and Molly rubbing their naked bodies against each other (in his mind, Molly was a dark skinned, Amazonian woman with black hair in a long, tight braid, long legs, and tremendous breasts that looked a lot like Celia’s). Little Jake liked these images a lot and was soon standing at full attention, wondering why he was not being touched or stroked or put somewhere soft and wet yet.

“There is ... uh ... one thing about Molly I wanted to bring up,” Laura said after another indeterminable time.

“What’s that?” Jake asked.

She shook her head. “Oh ... never mind,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m just getting my final analysis ahead of inputting my variables.”

“Hey,” he said seriously. “Don’t use Nerdlyisms with me when we’re talking about lesbian sex. It ruins the mood.”

She giggled. “Sorry,” she said. “But the concept is still valid. Forget I said anything.”

“No way,” he said. “You can’t bring up something and then not follow through in this kind of discussion. What were you going to say?”

“Well...” she said slowly, carefully, “it’s just that ... we talked about this once before.”

“Talked about what?” he asked. “We’ve talked about lots of things.”

She was blushing now. “About ... about ... how it would ... you know ... turn me on if you were... there, watching when I did something with another woman.”

Little Jake was now starting to throb in his sweatpants. “Yes,” he said straining to keep his voice casual, as if she were talking about how she had once asked him to move a desk from one place to another or to arrange to have a room painted. “I do seem to recall you mentioning that. Are you saying that you want me to watch you get it on with Molly?” Please let that be what she is saying, his mind begged the Savior.

Her blush increased. “I don’t know that Molly would be into something like that,” she said. “If fact, I don’t even know for sure that she would be into me, but ... yeah. If she is into me, and if she wasn’t objectionable to having you ... you know ... watch us ... I think that would be very erotic.”

“I ... uh ... would be agreeable to that,” he said, again keeping a careful tone of casualness in his voice.

“Are you sure?” she said, her voice serious now. It seemed she was very concerned about this. “It wouldn’t be ... I don’t know ... too much? It wouldn’t change how you feel about me?”

“It would not change how I feel about you,” he assured her. “If fact ... well ... I think it would be one of the hottest things imaginable.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he assured her.

“You’re not just saying that?” she said. “Because this is kind of a big deal, and I don’t want to do something if it’s going to change our relationship.”

“Laura,” he said, pulling the front of his sweats down, revealing his turgid erection to her eyes, “does this look like I’m anything but turned on by what you’re suggesting?”

She looked at it, her eyes wide. “Wow ... a boner,” she whispered. “You really do like this idea, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said. “I think it’s a fine idea and would only strengthen our love for each other.”

She reached over and took him in her hand, stroking up and down a bit. “I believe you,” she said. “Do you mind if I suck on this?”

“I would rather you sit on it,” he said.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay,” she said, standing up. She opened her robe and pulled up the hem of her long t-shirt, revealing her womanhood to him. It was freshly shaven the previous night, with only the little patch of neatly trimmed copper hair proving her natural redhead status. Her lips were swollen and glistening with moisture. Obviously, the discussion had had an effect on her as well.

She sat down upon him, face to face, covering his lap with her robe. He put himself inside of her by feel and she slid down upon him, engulfing him. They fucked quickly, frantically, exchanging hot, passionate tongue kisses while they pleasured themselves.

“Just come in me, sweetie,” she breathed in his ear between kisses. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?” he panted. He considered it a faux pas to not allow her to have at least one orgasm before he did.

“Yes,” she told him. “I want to stay hot and horny for tonight when I talk to Molly. Now do it. Come in me!”

He did as requested, releasing his mental blocks and going into overdrive. It took him about two minutes to shoot his semen into her body.

She collapsed against him, panting and flushed, holding him, her head falling onto his shoulder. He was also panting, his fingers stroking her hair.

“I love fucking you,” she said after their heart rates returned to normal.

“And I love fucking you,” he returned. “Especially when you’re talking about me watching you get it on with another woman.”

She giggled against him and then stood up, carefully arranging her shirt and her robe once again. “Your stuff is running down my leg,” she said.

“That will happen,” he said.

She sat back in her seat and picked up the pipe again. She began to stuff some more bud into it. “That was really hot to talk about,” she said, seriously again, “but you know it’s probably just a pipe dream, right?”

“I suppose,” he allowed.

“After all, I don’t even know if she really wants to do anything with me. She might just be flirting because she knows I’m bisexual.”

“She might,” Jake agreed.

“And I am leaving for three months on New Year’s Day, so if anything was going to happen, it would have to be before then.”

“That’s true as well.”

“And even if she did want to do it with me, and if we could make it happen before New Year’s Day, there’s a good chance she would not want a man watching her. She is a lesbian, remember, not a bisexual.”

“Another good point,” Jake said.

“I just wanted to make sure you understood all that.”

“I understand,” Jake said. “So ... are you going to go for it, or what?”

She smiled, partly in arousal, partly in nervousness. “Yes,” she said. “I’m going to go for it.”

They picked up Molly and Eric at their Toluca Lake house at 4:30 that afternoon. Eric was wearing his normal outfit of black jeans, a black shirt, and black shoes, his eyes cast toward the ground as he approached the limo. Jake hardly glanced at him. Instead, he let his eyes take in the form and figure of Molly. She did not look much like she had in his mind’s eye, but she was still quite attractive. Laura was right. It did not appear possible that she was forty years of age. Her hair was short, and she was only a little taller than Laura, but her body was nicely put together and she looked to be in very good physical shape. Her face was pretty, devoid of makeup except for some lip gloss, and without even a hint of stereotypical lesbian features. She had been advised to dress business casual level and so she had. She wore a pair of tan slacks, a button-up white blouse with long sleeves, and a pair of modest black heels.

Tony, their driver for the evening, opened the door of the limo for the pair and they climbed inside, taking the side seats on the left side. Eric quickly slid all the way around into the corner. Molly took the time to adhere to social convention and waited to be introduced. Laura performed the ritual since it seemed that Eric had no intention of doing so. Molly seemed a little bit starstruck to meet Jake Kingsley. She told him that she was a fan of his music, both from the Intemperance days and his solo albums.

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” Jake said, pleased, as always, when someone sincerely relayed that they liked his music.

“I’m not as much of a fan of Matt Tisdale’s Intemperance songs though,” she said. “A little too sexist and misogynistic for my tastes.”

“Yeah,” Jake agreed cordially, “I don’t think Matt will ever be asked to speak at a feminist rally, that’s for sure.”

The ride to Pauline’s Silver Lake house was only about fifteen minutes. Nonetheless, Laura offered to pour wine for everyone. Molly had never been in a limo before, so she readily accepted on the grounds that it was part of the limo experience. Jake accepted because it was Christmas—a festive day that called for imbibing (not that he really needed an excuse). Eric declined. He had taken a Xanax before leaving the house to prevent a panic attack at the social gathering and therefore would not be drinking any alcohol at all.

The gathering was considerably smaller than had been the case at Thanksgiving. The Kingsley and Archer parents were, of course, still at home in Cypress County, and the Nerdlys were celebrating the eighth and final night of Hanukkah with the Cohens—Sharon’s parents. That left only Obie, Pauline, Tabby, Greg, Celia, Jake and Laura with their two guests. Eric had already met all of them at Thanksgiving. He only muttered back at everyone when they greeted him, as was his style. Molly, on the other hand, seemed a little overwhelmed to be in the presence of all the celebrities. She was particularly enamored to meet Celia and Greg and, for a few minutes, it looked like maybe she was going to have to pop one of Eric’s Xanax pills as well. She was tongue-tied and gushing when introduced, hardly able to spit out a coherent phrase. However, once she was assured that Celia and Greg and Obie all put their pants on one leg at a time, just like her (and after she put down a fairly potent scotch and soda Jake mixed for her at the bar) she mellowed out and started to enjoy herself.

Obie was cooking up an eighteen-pound standing rib roast for their Christmas dinner while Pauline was making mashed potatoes and gravy and steamed asparagus. While dinner was cooking, everyone drank expensive red wine from France (except for Obie, who drank scotch on the rocks; Tabby, who drank apple juice from a sippy cup—neat; and Eric, who drank nothing). Molly seemed to grow more comfortable in the setting the more wine she drank and soon she and Laura and Celia were sitting on one of the couches, talking and giggling and taking turns playing with Tabby and the multitude of new Christmas toys she had scored.

They ate dinner at 6:30 and then Jake and Laura cleared the table of dishes (Pauline’s housekeeper was home with her family for Christmas) and spent some time putting them in the dishwasher.

“How goes Operation Clambake?” Jake asked her as they worked together in the kitchen.

She tried to scowl at him in a wifely manner but could not quite pull it off because of the giggles. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “She’s a little intimidated by all of us, I think, and this is hardly the setting to start coming onto someone. And besides ... I don’t really know how to come on to someone.”

“You did a pretty good job with me that night in the hot tub up in Oregon,” Jake reminded her.

She blushed and giggled a little more at this reminder of their first sexual encounter. “This is not really the same kind of situation,” she said. “Nor do I think that approach would be successful here.”

“Perhaps not,” he allowed.

“I told you not to get your hopes up,” she reminded him.

“I’m not,” he said, “but what about your hopes? You still want to piece of that pie, don’t you?”

“I do,” she said, her eyes shining.

“Then you have to up your game a little,” Jake said. “We’re spending New Year’s Eve in Granada Hills. Maybe she’d like to come over.”

“Maybe,” Laura said thoughtfully.

“Without Eric,” he added.

“Without Eric,” she repeated.

“And if she would prefer that I be elsewhere that night ... I’m okay with that. I could always go stay with the Nerdlys.”

“Stay with Bill and Sharon?” she asked. “Wouldn’t they wonder why you wanted to stay the night with them while I’m at home on our last night for three months?”

“I’ll tell them we had a fight,” he said.

“Oh ... okay,” she said with a shrug. “I guess that would work. Just don’t tell them the real reason.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her.

After getting the dishwasher started and the kitchen back in order, everyone had the crème brulee that Greg and Celia had brought for dessert. After that, they all broke up into groups again for some final conversation for the last stage of the get-together. Obie and Jake went over and sat next to Eric on the couch.

“How’s the old social anxiety tonight, boy?” Obie asked the violinist.

“It’s okay,” Eric answered meekly. “The Xanax is keeping it under control.”

“Doesn’t that stuff make you sleepy?” Jake asked him.

“A little,” he said, still looking at the floor. “I’m used to it.”

“You ever thought about just firing up on some booze instead of taking pills?” Obie asked him. He hefted his scotch glass up. “Good old American coping—the way we won the west. This shit is bad for you in many ways, but it’s great for mellowing out the old noggin.”

“I always throw up if I drink too much of it,” Eric said.

“Well shit, everyone does that,” Obie said. “I spent many a night back in my younger days worshipping the porcelain god.”

“It only takes about three drinks for me,” Eric told him.

“Three drinks?” Obie asked incredulously. “That’s some fucked up shit, boy.”

Tabby, who was playing at her father’s feet, happily shouted: “Fucked up shit!” as clear as day.

While the three men tried not to laugh (and failed), and while Obie looked around to see if Pauline had heard that (she had not, at least not yet), Jake cast his eyes across the room, where Laura and Molly were sitting next to each other on one of the smaller couches, each with a glass of wine in hand. They were engaged in a fairly animated discussion, giggling frequently, and with Laura occasionally blushing. Their voices were low as they talked, as if they did not want anyone to overhear them. He mentally wished his wife good luck and then got up to refresh his own drink.

Tabby went to bed just after nine o’clock. That seemed to be the signal for everyone that it was time to call it a night. Greg and Celia called for their limousine and then, once it arrived, gave hugs and handshakes to everyone and headed home. Jake used Laura’s cell phone to call for their limo (he still did not have a cell phone of his own, though he suspected he would have to finally break down and get one once Laura left for the tour). It arrived about ten minutes later. He, Laura, Molly and Eric all said their goodbyes to Obie and Pauline—with Laura giving them extra-hard hugs since she would not be seeing them again until at least late March—and the four of them walked out into the chilly winter night and got into the vehicle.

The three wine drinkers each had one more glass apiece on the way to Toluca Lake. When they arrived, Eric simply slinked out after only offering a brief goodbye and thank you to Jake and Laura. Molly lingered for a moment.

“Thank you both for inviting me,” she told them. “I had a wonderful time. Much better than spending Christmas alone.”

“It was our pleasure,” Jake told her. “Thanks for coming along.”

Molly gave Laura a hug and then, to Jake’s surprise, she gave him one as well. He felt the press of her tight body against his, smelled the scent of her perfume mixed with the odor of alcohol.

“Merry Christmas, Molly,” he told her as he hugged her back.

She got out of the limo and looked back at Laura. “See you soon,” she said with a smile.

“Looking forward to it,” Laura said.

They watched until she and Eric were safely in the house and then Tony closed the door, sealing them back in. A moment later, he was back in the driver’s seat. He lowered the partition for a moment.

“Home, Jake?” he asked politely.

“Home,” Jake confirmed.

“On the way,” Tony said. He closed the partition once again. A moment later, they were on their way to Granada Hills.

Jake looked over at Laura. “Well?” he asked quietly.

She smiled and gave him a thumbs up. They discussed the matter no further at the moment. The partition between themselves and Tony was not soundproof. He could, if he bothered to listen, hear much of what went on back there. And, while the drivers were known for their discretion—Jake, after all, had fucked many a woman in the back of a limousine (including Laura on more than one occasion)—the subject of Laura setting up girl on girl sex with a physical therapist (and possibly including Jake in on the action) was just a little too private, a little too juicy to allow to be overheard.

Instead, Laura gave him a blowjob on the way home while he sipped another glass of wine. She drew it out deliberately, not letting him finish until she knew they were just about home. Her timing was quite good. Just as he was zipping up his slacks, they were pulling to the curb at their Granada Hills home.

After tipping Tony a hundred and fifty dollars for working on Christmas for them, they wished him happy holidays and made their way into their secondary home. It was now just past ten o’clock. As soon as they stepped inside and closed the door behind them, Jake turned to Laura.

“Well?” he asked. “What’s the word?”

“She said she would love to come over and visit us for New Year’s Eve,” Laura said with a smile.

“Us?”

“Us,” she said. “As in me and you together.”

“Cool,” Jake said, nodding. “Does she know ... you know ... what you have in mind?”

“Well ... we never actually spelled it out or anything.”

“You didn’t?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I keep trying to tell you, women aren’t like that in this sort of situation. We use innuendo and euphemism for matters such as this. I never actually asked her if she would like to come over and have sex with me or told her that you wanted to watch it. And she never said, yes, I’d love to come eat your pussy out and it’s okay if Jake is in the room while I do it, but ... I think that’s what we both have in mind.”