There’s a naked woman standing over you. A woman who is not your wife.

You’re not good awake, but you do realize you’re stretched out on the floor. You’re glad to realize it’s your own floor in your own place. But the woman standing over you isn’t Jamie.

You do know the face - you think - but the rest of her is not the least bit familiar.

The naked woman—who is not Jamie—dangles keys you do recognize. Jamie’s.

“Come on, Arlo,” she’s saying, “it’s time to collect.”

It’s her voice you recognize, the smokey growl. Renalda. Renalda something. One of Jamie’s besties from way back. Like way, way back.

She jangles the keys again.

So you ask where Jamie is.

“I gave her the night off,” she says, closing the keys in her hand and planting her fists on her bare hips, impatient.

Dark, curly-haired puss, a pinkish brown, glistening slightly. Bare hips. Under-boob. Lots of under-boob.

As your head clears, you realize this could cause a lot of trouble for you.

You try rolling over, but you’re a little light-headed. Like you’d been drinking. Which maybe you have. But you do manage to get yourself up onto your hands and knees.

“That’s more like it,” she says, and throws a leg over your back and settles onto you like an unsaddled pony.

Your arms give way and you drop to your elbows, which throws her forward, but she catches herself, then lunges backwards, holding onto a fistful of your hair.

“Hot damn, we got us a rodeo,” she laughs.

You, also, are naked, you realize. This is going to be very bad if Jamie walks in right now.

You rest your head on your arms. Renalda gives you a slap on the ass, tugging at your hair.

You don’t raise up. Her weight and the wet warmth of her crotch against your spine does give your bare cock a rising thrill. But your forehead is still planted firmly on your forearm, as you try to make sense of what’s happening.

“Well, shit,” she says.

Looking back, under your arm, you see her reach for her jeans draped over the coffee table and pull her phone from a pocket. A few quick thumbstrokes and then holds the phone to her ear.

“Jamie,” she barks, running her hand through her hair. “He isn’t going for it.”

She paused.

“Let me check.”

She reaches down and takes hold of your crank.

You flinch, but your head’s still buzzy, and her hands feel good.

“Kinda hard. No. Not all the way hard.”

She gives you a few tugs, then massages your balls, and strokes your dick again, then runs her nails along the scrotum, up to your asshole.

“Nope. Friendly-sized, but not excited-sized.”

She pauses.

“You talk to him.”

She holds the phone down in front of you, wiggling it, making you take it.

It’s Jamie on the screen, in a bar somewhere. Might be the Pillory.

“Arlo? I need you to fuck Renalda, okay.”

“What for?”

“I promised her.”

“Promised I’d fuck her?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, no. Nononono. I’m not falling for it, Jamie.”

Renalda, is occupying herself by rubbing her crotch on your backbone, leaning down to nuzzle your ear.

“Renalda, cut that shit out while I’m talking to Arlo. You’ll get your chance. Arlo, just fuck Renalda and I’ll explain when I get home.”

“No, explain to me now—I don’t want to find out this is a gag you two worked out to see if I’d cheat or something.”

“It’s not cheating, Arlo. It’s—it’s a pinky swear. We pinky swore to it.”

“Without warning me?”

“We made that pinky swear back before I ever met you.”

“So—how’s it I’m the lucky guy?”

Renalda reaches back behind herself and is massaging your balls again. You think about saying something so Jamie’ll make her quit—but it’s a pleasing grip she’s got on you. Little spikes of pain that warm you. You spread your knees slightly to give her more room to work.

“We were having this monster sleepover and we all pinky swore with each other if one of us didn’t have a sweetheart for the holidays the ones who did would have to share.”

“You’ve got to share me because of a pinky swear?”

“Yes.”

“That’s something little kids do.”

“It’s a sacred thing when you do it at a sleepover—and everyone’s in on it. We took an oath. Anyone who’s got a regular someone—like on Valentine’s Day—has to share with those who don’t.”

“You couldn’t’ve told me sooner?”

“Just fuck her okay. It won’t kill you.”

Renalda leans down nipping at your ear.

“It might,” she says.

“Renalda, wait ‘til I’m off the phone. Arlo, it’s one time.”

Renalda has you by the dick again.

“I don’t know Jamie-girl. He’s starting to fill out nicely. Oh, yeah. I’m going to need two hands for this one.”

“Shut up, Renalda. Arlo, do this for me, okay?”

“I was out cold on the floor. I could be coming down with something. You don’t want Renalda catching whatever it is I’ve got.”

“It’s mezcal. You’re coming down with mezcal.”

“When was I drinking mezcal?”

“It was in the smoothies.”

Damn. You had a bunch of them. They were good, too.

“I needed to get your clothes off before she came over without you asking a lot of questions.”

Renalda slips off your back and tongues your ass, pulling on your crank.

You try to concentrate on Jamie.

“When’re you coming ho-ho-home?”

You’re trying to form words, but you were starting to melt into that marvelous tongue of hers.

“When you two’re—finished.”

“Ohhhhh, jeeeeeeez.”

“What’s she doing? No, no, don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know.”

Jamie disappears from Renalda’s phone, leaving behind an image of an impossibly endowed young man. Renalda’s screen saver.

“Ooops!” she says, plucking the phone from your hand.

But you’re not thinking of that enormous dick on her phone, you’re thinking about where that tongue went.

You put your forehead down on your arms again.

She’s back to stroking you.

“You heard the lady, let’s not waste it.”

She kisses you along your back until she reaches your neck, then tongues your ear—sending a jolt back along your spine, reaching all the way to the soles of your feet.

You hear her suck on her fingers to wet them, then feel as she plugs two deep into your anus, flutter kicking them, brushing against your prostate. Again, she reaches under you and tugs on your crank.

You are a galaxy of aroused nerves, blood pumping and skin-crawling, as she flutters her fingers inside you and strokes your crank.

She seems to sense that you were whirling toward an explosion and she stops, releasing her grip on you. A clear bead bubbles from the tip of your pecker. She eases her fingers from inside you and then blows on your asshole as if to cool it down.

Pushing you onto your side, then onto your back, she again takes hold of your crank, gripping it at the base to keep in engorged so she can settle herself onto it.

Once the head is inside her, the whole of it belongs to her, no going back. If this is meant to be a big joke on you, you’ve crossed whatever line they’ve drawn.

She takes an extra long time lowering herself until she mashes her crotch down onto you.

You try to keep your mind on anything but the radiating sizzle of nerves reacting to your penetration of a strange woman.

For a long, long time, she simply sits, humming little yummy noises.

You can’t help letting your mind drift. You have to admit—not to her, or even Jamie—but it’s a quality of novelty, someone who feels so very different from what you’re used to, makes it feel like the first time all over again—not knowing what to do next, what she’ll do next, what works, what doesn’t work.

Yes, there is a chilling thrill to it, and you have to be careful not to surrender yourself to it.