There was still plenty of time for the weather to turn cold again, but for now, early spring, the day was wonderfully clement. A soft rain in the morning gave way to a kind of creamy egg sunshine and shirt-sleeve warmth. The sidewalks were busy. The guy found a curbside spot for his car on Alder and walked the two blocks to the girl’s apartment.

Her name was Valerie. He met her at the Pet Pad the day before, a place he stopped by every week or so, but she must have been new because this was the first time he’d ever seen her there, running the register. A petite Asian girl with straight, ombred hair pulled back in a tie, her navy polo with the Pet Pad logo stitched over her left breast, a pin that said “Valerie” over her right, khakis. He thought she was gorgeous, and the kind of girl—based on his experience—he would have to see, like, 20 times before he found the courage to say more than “please” or “thank you” to. Twenty times with no flirtation so he didn’t seem weird before she would acknowledge that she recognized him, making his bi-weekly canned cat food run or litter pail refill. Then maybe he could say, one time, “How are you doing today,” or even, “Hey Valerie.” Like they now sort of knew each other.

But it didn’t take twenty times. She scanned his Pet Pad card and then the bar codes on each of the twenty cans of Fancy Feast and then the $5 coupon in an email he printed off. With his coupon and discounts, the whole purchase totaled less than six dollars.

“Wow,” said the girl. “That’s a lot of cat food for six bucks.” She double bagged all the cans in a plastic Pet Pad sack and handed it to him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Good deal.”

She said, “So how many cats do you have?”

“I don’t have any cats,” he said, swiping his Amex card, giving her a deadpan look.

She looked at him, cocked her head a little, like she was taking him in now.

“I’m going to go out front and smoke a cigarette in five minutes,” she said.

And that was it, the easiest meet ever. A cute-meet, like they said in the movies. Despite that, he had a feeling about this one. It was different. Not different like it was too easy, or that there was something hinky going on. Different like meeting-someone’s-gaze-across-the-room different. Kismet different.

Then he thought that he was letting himself get carried away and he needed to back off because it wouldn’t be the first time he let his imagination get the better of his reason. He would think he caught a vibe, or believed that there was a look—anything like that—only to discover that whatever he was imagining wasn’t even close to being real.

Still, even if it turned out to be just a hook up, he would be okay with that, too, he told himself.

Her apartment was in a building that had a dry cleaning business at street level. She buzzed him in and he took the steps to the second floor, found the number that was next to the name “V. Gates” on the intercom, and knocked. He’d brought flowers.

A red-haired girl with a big smile opened the door. “You must be Daniel,” she said, and he smiled back.

The redhead was gorgeous, too. She had one hand on the door, the other on the doorjamb. She was wearing a pair of denim cut-offs, blindingly short, and what he knew enough to know was a peasant blouse. Yolked with little embroidered flowers, neckline off her marvelously freckled shoulders, and—obviously plain from the backlighting—nothing underneath. Her legs were long and pale, and she was barefoot. Definitely a hippie thing going on, but clean, well-scrubbed. So, Valerie had a hot roommate with, he couldn’t help but note, long legs and very nice tits. He was doing a quick evaluation in his head of what advantages there could be to this, and he couldn’t think of one.

She stepped back and made a sweeping gesture with her arm inviting him in. The apartment also had a definite hippie vibe. It smelled mostly of incense—sandalwood, he recognized it but couldn’t remember the name at first—but with definite grace notes of weed. A sagging little sofa was covered with quilts. There was a big orange beanbag chair. A coffee table made from a pine plank atop two plastic Taylor’s Dairy milk crates. A framed poster of a bygone Grateful Dead Fillmore show. There was what looked to be a vintage stereo system, two big speakers angled in the room’s two back corners. A formidable looking Marantz receiver and (really?) an equalizer and turntable on top of a low console table that was lined, underneath, with lots of vinyl. Groovy, he thought. Dig it.

Valerie walked into the room with a tall can of PBR, and his stomach did a funny little lurch. She was wearing gray, cut-off sweat pants, the leg hems curling, and a Steelers jersey with the number 58 on it that had also been cut into a crop top. Did these girls slice up all their clothing? Slim, cashew-colored legs and a smooth but modest swath of flat stomach. Her ombred hair was untailed now and hung around her shoulders.

“V. Gates,” he said.

“Fine, thank you,” she said.

“Sorry, I guess you’ve probably heard that plenty,” he said.

“Only, like, for decades,” she said.

He said, “These are for you,” and handed her a half-dozen pale yellow tulips wrapped in green tissue.

“Let’s trade,” she handed him the beer and took the flowers. She said, “You met my roommate Joey.”

“Not formally,” he said. “Hi, Joey.”

“I will be shortly,” said the redhead who was now back by the console, bent over and looking for something, her plump tits swaying in a detailed, breathtaking dangle in the sunlight filtering through her sheer blouse. She emerged with an old Dutch Masters cigar box.

Valerie told him to sit. When he looked around, she pointed to the center of the old sofa and said, “Here.” She plopped down next to him, on his left, and curled up, tucked her legs up under her bottom. He sipped his beer, which wasn’t very cold. He offered her some.

“I’ve got one started somewhere,” she waved it away. “I’ll get it in a minute.”

Music swelled from the speakers. He could feel it vibrate up through his feet. No shit, Pink Floyd, he thought. Joey came around from behind the sofa and sat down on his other side. She set the cigar box on her lap. She pinched pot from a baggy and massaged it between her thumb and forefinger, sifting it into a creased paper. Daniel watched her for a moment and then offered her his can of beer.

“I only smoke,” said Joey, not looking up, paying attention to her work. She said, “So, Daniel… Where are you from?”

“Here,” he said.

“Our sofa?” said Joey.

“Pittsburgh,” he said. “Here.”

“I’m teasing you, Daniel,” said Joey. He felt Valerie touch his hair, brush it back behind his ear. He turned to her.

“How about you?” he said.

“From?” said Valerie. “I was born in Tokyo. My father was American, he moved us here when I was ten. To San Francisco.”

“I’m from San Mateo,” said Joey.

Daniel said, “So how did you all end up in Pittsburgh?”

“We moved around,” said Joey. “Nudged ourselves further east.”

“We like the boys here,” said Valerie.

“Well,” said Daniel, “you have good taste,” sipping his beer. Both girls laughed. Then Joey flicked a butane lighter that shot up a flame as long as his index finger and ignited the joint she’d just finished rolling. It crackled softly as she inhaled.

Valerie said, “So what do you do, Daniel?”

“Well,” he said, looking down at his hands in his lap, “I work in technology.”

“Technology,” said Joey in that non-exhaling way of someone who just took a big hit off a joint. Then, releasing a plume of smoke, “That’s a flourishing field.”

“What specifically?” said Valerie.

“Um… Well…” he felt embarrassed. He hated this part. “I’m a solutions architect for a systems integrator.”

“Really,” said Joey. “What platform?”

“Excuse me?” said Daniel.

“What platform?” said Joey. She passed him the joint.

“Um… ATG.”

“No kidding? Oracle Commerce, huh?”

He passed the joint to Valerie.

She said, “You don’t want any?”

“Oh, yeah, but… you know. Ladies first.”

Joey said, “Wow, he’s handsome, he’s smart, and he’s chivalrous.”

“I’m sorry,” said Daniel. “But you know about order management systems? I tell people what I do and I usually just get the cricket sound. What do you do?”

“She sells pot,” said Valerie in that non-exhaling way, et cetera.

“Not just,” said Joey.

“I don’t understand,” said Daniel, taking the joint now from Valerie.

“What don’t you understand?” said Joey.

“You sell drugs,” said Daniel and then, turning to Valerie, “and you sell cat food.”

“Not just,” said Valerie.

Daniel hit the joint, held it for a bit, and exhaled.

Valerie said, “Joey actually has a degree in petroleum engineering.”

“Really?”

“Fuck that,” said Joey. “Drugs are always a sellers’ market. Oil, price goes up, price goes down. It’s bullshit.”

“Pet food is always a sellers’ market, too,” said Valerie. “There’s never a Fancy Feast glut. You can never have too much cat food.”

“I know I can’t,” said Daniel. He was already high.

Joey took the joint from him. Valerie leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the neck, just below his ear, and his face felt hot. He turned to her and she kissed his mouth in the same light way, and then again. She held it for a long time, just their lips touching. She took his hand and placed it under her cropped jersey, on her breast, and he caressed it. It was small, not even what you would call a cup, more like a swelling with an emphatically hard tip. He pinched her nipple gently and she moaned into his mouth.

“Now you kiss Joey while I hit this,” said Valerie. She reached across him to take the joint from the redhead. Joey put a hand on his cheek and turned his head toward her, put her mouth on his, more forcefully than Valerie had done. Her lips were open and he tasted her tongue, inhaled her breath, which was hot and a little acrid from with smoke. He cupped her breast through the sheer muslin of the blouse.

“Joey has such nice breasts,” said Valerie.

He felt a hand go between his legs and gently rub his balls through the fabric of his jeans.

“You’re both lovely,” he said between kisses.

“I want to suck him,” said Joey.

“Me too,” said Valerie.

*

They moved to a bedroom, Valerie’s he guessed, something a little more sophisticated in décor, nothing like the Haight-Ashbury collection in the living room. Given the circumstances, he didn’t really think too much about it. It was all happening very fast, his mind was all over the place, and his eyes were open. They made the same Daniel sandwich on the platform bed that they’d made on the couch. He was trying to take it all in, process what was happening. He’d never been with two women at the same time. The room was all whites and pale grays and dusty blues. The clutch of yellow tulips in their green paper lay brightly on a vanity. His pants were bunched down below his knees. Valerie was leaning over him, kissing him, her hand inside his shirt, his hand back up underneath hers, rubbing and squeezing her small bud breasts. Joey was further down the bed, moving her mouth slowly up and down his erect cock, sucking it, making it feel yet more engorged. The redhead’s full breasts mashed softly against his thighs. The joint relaxed him enough that he could go with this. From the other room Pink Floyd was singing about being shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

After a while of this, Joey said, “This cock is really hard. You should fuck Valerie now.”

Valerie pulled down her shorts and whipped off her top, lay back on the bed. She said, “Do you mind being on top, Daniel?”

Joey said, “Valerie’s nostalgic for missionaries.” Daniel figured she meant “missionary position.”

Valerie said, “I just like to lie back and get fucked.”

Daniel climbed atop Valerie. Joey took his cock in her hand and guided it to her roommate’s slit. “Put it in,” she said. No one said anything about a condom, and Daniel didn’t even think of it until he had already pushed his cock into Valerie. Shit, he was high. He began fucking the naked, petite Pet Pad cashier.

“That’s good,” Valerie grunted. Joey slid up the bed next to Valerie and kissed her. She ran her hand down Valerie’s stomach. Daniel was propped up on his arms. He looked down at his cock going in and out of the girl, her pubic region a sleek, trimmed delta of black, and now with Joey’s fingers curling over it, rubbing Valerie’s clit. He realized that they were all looking down at the same thing, everyone’s attention focused on the little carnal interplay of hand, cock, and cunt; just another Saturday afternoon in a cool bedroom, he thought.

Joey whispered, “Oh, that’s it, fuck her, Daniel. Fuck her little cunt.” She whispered, “You like that, Valerie? You like the way he’s fucking your little pussy?”

“Fuck,” Valerie breathed. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh.”

“He’s going to pump a big load in you, baby,” said Joey.

Valerie’s head was back now, her eyes closed, her breath catching. She threw her arm back and grabbed the headboard.

“Stop,” she panted. “Just hold it in me for a second.”

Daniel stopped thrusting, watching her, knew she was working toward her orgasm, his hard cock flexing inside her.

“Oh yeah,” said Joey, rubbing her roommate’s clit fast now.

Valerie’s hips heaved up from the bed. She opened her eyes, but Daniel saw only the whites. It was creepy.

“Now fuck me!” Valerie barked at him. “Fuck me hard!”

Daniel started pumping in and out of her as hard as he could as the girl started coming, bucking beneath him. The whole thing was too much for him.

“Fuck,” he grunted through gritted teeth. His right leg started shuddering and he couldn’t control it.

“Oh, shit, he’s coming too,” said Joey. “Come in her, Daniel. Shoot it. Shoot your cum.”

But he was already doing it, unloading into the naked, bucking brunette, a long delicious sort of ache from somewhere behind his balls. He kept thrusting in and out of her for another half minute or so after the spasms finally subsided. He looked into Valerie’s face and she was looking at him, her eyes wide, both of them breathing hard. “Whew,” she said, then pulled his face down to her and kissed him. 

*

The redhead asked him to make way. He climbed off Valerie. Joey moved to between her roommate’s legs and positioned herself to lick Valerie’s pussy. Daniel knelt off to the side, then sat back on his heels. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now so he just watched as Joey began eating out Valerie. Valerie propped herself up on her elbows and watched her too.

“That feels so nice,” she said.

“Mmm,” said Joey. “This boy pumped so much jizz in you.”

“That’s so hot,” said Valerie. “Tell me again.”

“This boy,” said Joey, pausing between laps with her tongue, “pumped so much… thick, creamy cum… in your tight little… cunt.”

“Shit,” said Valerie. “Daniel, eat Joey while she licks me.”

Daniel got behind Joey’s upturned ass. He smoothed this fingers up her slit. It was a pale brownish pink with a soft ginger collar. Then he traced the same path with his tongue. Joey murmured. He did it again, this time extending his lick to the muscled ring of her asshole. She jerked at that, and murmured even louder. I think we know what Joey likes, he thought.

Daniel licked Joey’s ass. He sucked on two of his fingers and slowly slid them into her pussy, then started pumping them in and out slightly as he continued to tongue her asshole. He could feel it clenching and unclenching against this tongue. Soon the chain of them were undulating on the bed in a sort of wave, Joey lapping and pressing her mouth against Valerie’s pussy and Daniel fingering Joey’s pussy and tongue-fucking her tightest hole. He wondered if she was going to ask him to fuck her there. He’d never done that before but wanted to. His cock started getting hard again thinking about it, and he was grateful that he might be recovering sufficiently to comply. But he wasn’t going to do anything to Joey that he wasn’t asked to do. He’d come to see Valerie, and as much as this was without a doubt a threesome, and there was nothing to indicate that they were anything like a couple, she still might not appreciate his presuming that he could just stick his dick in her roommate’s ass.

“Oh… fuck… Val,” said Joey. “He’s eating my ass so good.”

“Fuck her in the ass, Daniel,” said Valerie. “She wants it there.”

So he did. His cock was still slick with cum and her ass was wet with his spit. He squeezed his cock hard at the base and pressed the head of it to her hole, which slowly yielded. Once it did, and he was in, his cockshaft tightly gripped, like someone was squeezing a thumb and forefinger around it hard. He pressed forward a little more and Joey made a loud, muffled grunt against her roommate’s cunt. Then he started to rock his hips slightly, moving his cock back and forth inside her, but only just.

Joey grunted and tried to keep eating Valerie’s pussy, but Daniel could tell that getting fucked in the ass was beginning to take all her attention. Valerie had a hand down between her own legs; he guessed she was rubbing her clit now. Joey reached back beneath herself and began rubbing her own as Daniel ass-fucked her.

In this train of excited bodies, Daniel was the engine at this point. The fucking he was giving Joey’s ass was moving the three of them in concert. Joey’s asshole opened more to him and his thrusts became longer. The bed rocked and squeaked. Daniel felt another orgasm building. He paused.

“Oh, don’t stop,” said Joey. “Don’t stop! Fuck my ass. Come in it. Come in it.”

Daniel began fucking her ass again, harder than before, and she yelled. He could tell by the way her arm shook that she was rubbing herself very fast now, as was Valerie. His orgasm crested and he started coming in Joey’s ass, continuing to pump in and out as he shot his load into that dark place. Joey came then and her orgasm forced his cock from her asshole; still mostly hard and reddishly raw-looking, it slipped out of her with a kind of a gluey sound.

Daniel was panting. He leaned forward, turned his head, and rested his face atop the redhead’s pale ass. Joey was panting too. He heard Valerie curse and felt the bed shuddering beneath all of them. He didn’t look up to watch her come, just listened to it and felt it.

*

Daniel was on his back on the bed, the two girls bookending him. Valerie had a hand on his chest. Joey as nuzzling his neck. He was trying to figure out what to say but couldn’t think of anything that didn’t strike him as stupid, like, “Boy, I certainly wasn’t expecting this when I woke up this morning,” or, even better, “Thank you.” Finally, he settled on “That was so… (pause for at-a-loss-for-words emphasis) hot.”

“And you thought I was a nice girl, huh?” said Valerie.

“You are a nice girl.”

“Yeah,” said Valerie, “you’re right. Joey’s the dirty little whore.”

“Mmm, I am,” said Joey. “A filthy slut.”

“You’re both nice,” said Daniel. He turned toward Valerie and she kissed him, just lips on lips.

That’s when he felt a bluntish little stabbing pain his neck, followed by a wet warmth against this skin there. Valerie was watching him now, still a dreamy, satisfied, post-coital look on her face. He tried to turn his head but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move anything: arms, legs, fingers, eyelids, lips. He could still feel things, like the dull, insistent pressure on the right side of his neck. But he couldn’t move.

Joey murmured, “Oh, Val, he’s so good.”

“Yummy?” said Valerie.

“Mm-hmmm.”

“That’s the best,” said Valerie. “Ass-fed beef.”

Joey made a choking sound, then coughed. Daniel felt a sticky warmth spray up the side of his face, all the way up to his temple and forehead.

“Nice spit take,” said Valerie.

“You jerk,” Joey laughed a little and went back to his neck.

Valerie drew herself up to her knees now.

“Let’s not waste,” she said, leaning over him. He felt her make a long pass with her flattened tongue against his head, then over his wet cheek and jaw. It left him feeling cold there. His vision began to get dim and powdery around the edges. Valerie lay back down and gently turned his head so he was facing the ceiling now, and she snuggled down into her side of his neck, where he then felt the same sort of blunt pressure, but not much pain to it this time, and then the warmish wetness.

Only the popcorn plaster ceiling directly above him remained in his field of vision now. The dimness of his sight deepened until, like an aperture slowly closing, all was reduced to a valedictory pill of soft light. He thought of his two cats sitting in the window of his second-floor apartment, waiting to see him come down the sidewalk, before it flickered out.

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