“I feel like getting wild tonight,” Carrie said. “Are you with me?”

“Well, yes ... with moderation.” Carrie laughed at my equivocation. I quickly launched into an explanation. “I like these guys, but we just met them. But, yeah, if the day goes well, I can go wild.” I paused a moment. “A little ... maybe.”

Carrie laughed again. “Elsie, dear, you are still a prude at heart!” She leaned in toward me at the table where we were sitting and kissed me on the cheek.

Carrie was twenty-nine and single; I was thirty and had been divorced for five years. We shared an apartment in downtown San Francisco. Carrie was an executive secretary at a large corporation; I was a surgical nurse. We were visiting a ski resort for a three day weekend. Neither of us was firmly committed to a single man, so the thought of sex as an enjoyable end to a day on the slopes appealed to us – as it presumably did to the two Swedes we had met earlier in the day. They were tall, blond, congenial, spoke flawless English with charming accents, and they were expert skiers – as neither Carrie nor I were.

Carrie was more glamorous than me: big-boobed, tall, bleached blond, forthright and aggressive, with a ready smile, infectious laugh, and sardonic wit. I’m about average in every way, relying on a friendly and relaxed personality to attract male attention. We had been best friends since high school. I coasted along in the shadow of charismatic Carrie. Until three years ago I lived in small-town Kansas where exotic was a person who didn’t live nearby. I was still feeling like a country bumpkin in San Francisco – but I was enjoying my life as a single woman with Carrie as my mentor.

The Swedes, Axel and Will, were about the same age as us. Both of them described themselves as working in IT, whatever that meant. Neither of them wore a wedding ring.

The four of us finished our day on the ski slopes with hot toddies in the Slide-In Tavern, still dressed in our ski gear. We then stowed our skies and boots and retired to a nearby hotel restaurant, ate heartily, drank two bottles of wine, and “skoaled” each other with shot glasses of aquavit – my first encounter with the clear and potent liquor. By the end of the dinner I was toasty and Carrie was even louder than usual.

None of us had made hotel reservations as it was early in the season and we had not anticipated any problem finding a room. The four of us, jolly and lubricated, sauntered up to the front desk of the hotel, our sleeping arrangements not yet decided, and Carrie said, “We need two rooms.”

I’m sorry. We’re full. We have only one room left,” the desk clerk answered. He looked the four of us over. “The room has two queen sized beds.”

Carrie looked at Axel. He shrugged and smiled. Then she looked at me. I nodded, “That’ll be okay,” I said meekly and looked at Will. “How about you?”

“Sounds like fun.”

So, it was decided that the four us would spend the night in one hotel room. We all looked at each other, a little tentative as we walked together to the elevator. Enroute to the fifth floor, Carrie and Axel kissed and Will and I kissed. This was our first physical contact. It removed any doubt as to who was paired with who.

Carrie and I have a long history of double dating. Back in high school, she would fuck the high school football captain in the back seat of my boyfriend’s car while my boy friend and I got hot and heavy in the front seat, although I had the goal of preserving my virginity until marriage – which I did, although my boyfriend’s penis made one accidental intrusion into my vagina. I didn’t count that.

Since my early prudishness and unfortunate marriage, I had had sex with a dozen men, but it always was one-on-one sex. Carrie had tripled my number and she told me she had been in threesomes. My sex life, by contrast, was sometimes good, but always conventional – because I am conventional.

Of the two men, Axel, the more outgoing, gravitated toward Carrie and I was left with Will, which was not a bad fate. I prefer quiet, shy men who are a bit bungling in bed. I suppose that gives me more control over the situation than if I were in bed with a domineering cave man. Will met my criteria for a good partner.

“I need a shower,” Carrie said, as we arrived at our room, which in fact had two queen size beds separated by a night stand. “I’ve been sweating all day.” She opened the bathroom door and looked in. “Oh, good, nice shower.”

Axel followed her to the bathroom and leaned over Carrie’s shoulder. “Hmmm...” He put his arm around her and kissed her neck. “Big shower,” he said, and after a pause he suggested, “Big enough for two.”

Carrie laughed and turned her head to his. She was never one to turn down a challenge. “Now? Or should we unpack first?”

“Now! Fuck unpacking,” Axel answered. “Let’s get that sweater off.” With that he pulled her wool sweater over her head. She raised her arms to help him. She was wearing a sports bra that flattened her large breasts

Axel began to unbutton her ski pants. She stepped out of the pants and tossed them on one of the beds. She had a well-toned, tanned body that made me jealous. Axel was pulling off his sweater and his trousers, tossing them on the bed. He was the proverbial “hunk”, muscled and toned, his only flaws a large protuberant nose and a prematurely receding hairline. The two of them in their underwear posed a second for us and then turned and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind them. A moment later we heard the sound of the shower.