So where are all the horny women who're supposed to be at all weddings?
He sat, alone, at a table in the corner of a mostly deserted banquet room, watching Jen and Ken. His newly married friends sat at the big table at the head of the room, laughing and talking with various members of their now-combined families. The reception was basically over, most of the guests had left, the tiny dance floor was empty, and the DJ and bartenders had been released for the night. It wasn't long before midnight, and things were pretty much done.
Then again, his friends were hardly a typical bride and groom. Jen was a tomboy through and through, and the wedding hadn't been her idea or design. Getting married had been Ken's idea. Their mutual friend Bart had made all of the arrangements for both the civil ceremony and the reception, both of which had been held here in the restaurant he owned. They hadn't had anything like a traditional ceremony with the big dress and formal wear. Ken was dressed in a nice suit--the jacket ditched shortly after the vows--and she was in a white tunic and matching pants--the white in deference to her mother more than anything. No best man or bridesmaids, which was just as well because Jen didn't have any girlfriends or sisters. In fact, if it weren't for family, Jen probably wouldn't have invited any
women at all. In fact, Jason was pretty sure Jen hadn't done any of the inviting. Jokes had been made when Davey and Jason offered to stand up with her, but she hadn't accepted their offer. Jason chuckled. Davey might have gotten a kick out of it.
She did look pretty, though, he mused, sucking at the last ice cube that remained of his Black Russian. Jen was a wholesome, all-American brunette with a fresh face, sparkling brown eyes, and a big, natural smile. Usually she went without makeup, but today she'd made an exception. Even so, it was applied in a manner that made her look like it wasn't there, enhancing her features rather than disguising them. The low neckline of her white silk tunic showed off her most obvious feminine assets but also accentuated her slim waist and gently sloped hips. Jen was tightly packed and strong from a lifetime of playing sports and looked damn good because of it, even if she failed to see it.
Jason knew exactly how tightly packed. And soft. And exciting. He'd had the great pleasure of having sex with her on two separate occasions. Both times were just a little over a month ago when he, Ken, and their two other best friends, Bart and Davey, had conspired to prove to Jen that she was a gorgeous, wonderful woman by finally taking their individual chances at dating her. No. Not dating. Sex. It had been about sex. They'd all figured Jen could handle it. None of them had intended to change their friendship or turn it into anything long-term. Just friends having fun. Then Ken had thrown a wrench into the works. Or, as he claimed, Jen had mucked it up by sleeping with Jason, Bart, and Davey but refusing to sleep with him. Jason had to admit that would have ticked him off too. Looking back on the one night when the five of them had been together, Ken was the only one who hadn't done more than kiss Jen. Of course, she'd stayed the night with him when the rest of them had gone home. That was the night Ken had seen the proverbial light and asked Jen to marry him. Jason was happy for them. He was. Looking at them now, he wondered why no one had seen that they were meant for each other before.
But that didn't help him tonight. Clearly, if he was going to find companionship, he would have to go elsewhere.
Setting his glass down on the pristine white tablecloth, he stood. Jen and Ken were busy, so he chose not to bother them. He'd already bestowed his congratulations on the happy couple, and he'd see them at work on Wednesday anyway since they weren't going on their honeymoon until November. Because the restaurant was open for regular diners tonight as well, Bart would be busy.
Where was Davey? The little snot was his ride home, which was the only reason he was still drinking. Last time he'd seen the other man had been when there were still people dancing on the miniature floor. That had to have been an hour or so ago. As he meandered toward the door leading out of the banquet room, Jason pulled out his cell and sent a text to his friend: Where r u?
Once out of the room, he edged around a small dining area toward the buzz of conversation that surrounded the bar. The area was pretty typical of an upscale restaurant like Bart's. Up two steps and Jason was surrounded by shining polished wood, mirrors, and muted lighting. A few minitables were scattered in the open area on one side, but the main focus was the long bar with the bottles of booze behind on mirrored shelves. There were only about a dozen people there, and he recognized a few from the wedding. He waved to Ken's sister with her hubby and Tina and Dan from work, but headed for the end of the bar. He took a barstool and watched a few pitches in the Pirates/Brewers game while he waited for Jake, the bartender, to finish up and bring him another.
“Damn,” he muttered to himself, watching the roll of scores across the bottom of the plasma screen mounted on the wall. Mets won again. That meant his beloved Braves were another game down. It was a damn sure bet they weren't going to make it to the play-offs this year.
He was halfway through another Black Russian and well into the next inning of the Rockies/Giants game when Davey finally texted him back. He flipped open the phone to read the message: Come. Back lot.
The parking lot in the back? “Why?” he asked the phone aloud, knowing full well it wouldn't answer. So he texted it: Why?
A moment later came the reply: Just come.
Typical Davey. No explanation, just an expectation of obedience. Had he moved his car? If so, why? No telling with Davey, of course. He followed his own rules for everything.
Sighing, Jason stood, then downed his drink and paid for it while grimacing at the onslaught of rich coffee liqueur down to his gullet. He hoped whatever Davey had in mind was worth it. He didn't drink Black Russians often, and he preferred to savor them.
Well acquainted with the layout of the restaurant, he headed for the darker hallways that led to the restrooms. Beyond the johns was another hall that led both to the manager's office and employees' lockers. There was also a fire door that led to the back parking lot. Once outside, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the harsh fluorescent lighting directly overhead that cast faux moonlight in the immediate vicinity. The parking lot in back only held ten spaces, meant for kitchen staff and managers. Bart's Beemer sat directly outside the door.
It took a moment, but Jason finally located Davey leaning against the dark shadow of his deep blue Mustang GT at the very edge of the halo of light. His white dress shirt and light-colored slacks stood out against the black background of the trees that stood beyond the pavement, as did the bright pink T-shirt of the girl pressed against him.
What the hell
? Jason scowled. Was he going to have to find another way home? That little shit.
Having heard the door open, Davey waved him over with one arm while keeping the other wrapped around the girl.
Muttering to himself, Jason descended the three cement steps of the stoop and crossed the lot. He really shouldn't begrudge his buddy finding a date. Wasn't he hoping to do the same thing?
She was cute, too. A little under Davey's height, which put her around five feet four or five, she had that hair that wasn't quite brunette and wasn't quite blonde but was kind of both, cut short, level with her rounded chin. She had a slim little body with a tight belly shown off by the way her T-shirt rode up because her arms were around Davey's neck. When she turned to grin at Jason, he guessed she was around their age, with a bright smile and carefully plucked eyebrows. He couldn't tell the color of her eyes because it was too dark in the lot.
Jason stopped a few paces away from them and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. “What's up?”
Davey grinned, the lenses of his thick-rimmed glasses catching a glint from the light behind Jason. “This is Tacy.”
The girl unwound her arms and turned to face Jason but kept her hip snuggled up against Davey. She extended a hand to Jason. “Stacy without the S
He took it, mustering a smile. Maybe she had a friend inside. “Hi.”
Her fingers slid over his palm as their hands parted, and she gave him a warm little grin that he couldn't decipher.
Keeping his eyes on Jason, Davey rubbed her back, making her T-shirt ride up her belly a little more. With the dip of her low-rise jeans, there was a nice bit of soft flesh visible. “Tacy's never had two guys at once. I told her we could probably accommodate her. What do you think?”
Jason blinked. Then his jaw dropped. “Huh?”
Tacy giggled, propping her back up against Davey so he could slide his arms around her from behind.
Davey wasn't even fazed by what he'd said. “Tacy wants to do us.”
She giggled again. “Or you do me.”
One of Davey's thumbs tucked into the waistband of her jeans, right behind the button. “Some of both.”
Jason's gaze snagged on that thumb, his imagination filling in what was right near it. “You guys are serious?”
“Oh yeah,” Tacy assured him.
“Do I know you?”
She pulled away from Davey and closed the distance to Jason. Blue. Her eyes were blue. “Not yet.” She let that blue gaze rake him up and down before she spread her palms over his chest, slipping them underneath the lapels of his jacket to lightly press his nipples. “But we can fix that.”
He glanced over her shoulder. Davey remained where he was, arms now folded across his chest. His head was cocked to the side, shiny, straight brown hair falling to the side from the tilt of his head. That smug little grin he almost always wore was right there, challenging Jason to take up the offer.
A few months ago, Jason might not have considered it. But after what had happened with Jen this summer, he was caught. That night the five of them had shared sprung to mind. It had been sexy as hell watching the other guys fuck Jen, knowing they were watching when he was inside her himself. All too vividly he could conjure up the memory of Davey, naked and sheened with sweat as he plowed into Jen from behind. He remembered the fevered glee in Davey's unshielded eyes when their gazes had met over Jen's back, Davey fucking her while Jen sucked Jason's cock. It was the single most erotic thing he could remember doing in his life.
The light in Davey's eyes told Jason he remembered the same thing. And wanted to do it again.
Why the hell not?
His thoughts had taken mere seconds. His gaze returned to Tacy's by the time she spoke again. “What do you say?”
He grinned down at her, setting his hands on the curve of her hips. “I'm game if you are.”