Provocation

Here we go...

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Provocation - Five

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"That may have been too far," Gwen said softly as we popped out of the club and into the alley where our Uber would be shortly. "Getting fucked out in the open practically, while you finger my two friends?"

"Didn't like it?" I asked. I wanted to hear the least negative of thoughts about this. But Gwen did not seem unhappy, so I was relaxed.

"It was crazy fun," she shook her head. "But I could not have handled getting thrown out and banned."

"That would suck."

"More importantly, much more importantly," she said, sobering, "I'm not sure how Deidre and Zoe are going to handle what happened. It would suck balls if they started avoiding us, no matter how much we complain about them always dragging us out to nightclubs and only nightclubs."

I paused. Yeah. That would suck. And that was a concern.

I nodded in somber agreement. Then my sense of humor got the better of me. "On the other hand, I think we can say a permanent goodbye to their ribbing us for being conservative sticks in the mud!"

She smiled at that and leant against me. "I do worry, though. I don't want to hurt anyone else. I have been careful thus far never to hurtus, but until now, I never really thought that much about how this provocationatin' could hurtothers. Maybe intentionally just winging everything is a bad idea?"

"I still think it works best that way," I said, thinking furiously. I really liked not knowing the rules. I even more so did not want to have advance knowledge of how much or how little Gwen would try to pull at any given time. "Maybe just a few general guardrails?" I posited.

"Like...?"

"Be safe, obviously," I said.

"Yeah. For sure. And only people we at least know. You know, enough that we are both comfortable with whoever else is involved in things," Gwen contributed.

"Good, good..." I agreed. "I kinda figured that one myself. Oh! And instant obedience to the word No."

"And no shame ever in either of us saying, 'not again' at a later point," Gwen added. She smirked."Do we need a safe word?"

"Eww," I said. "Anti-spontaneous. I'd feel like we were in some bad David Lynch movie."

She choked on her laugh. "Still... If..."

"Babe, at no point in anything we've done, have I ever not been keeping you in mind. I know we both are doing all this shit because it ends up being aboutus, in the final analysis, right?"

"Oh, really?" Gwen giggled. "Is that why you were over at our table where I couldn't see you, with your hands all over Zoe and Deidre's asses earlier?"

"In my defense," I said blandly, "they both have very nice asses."

"Ha!"

"To be honest," I said softly, wanting, in fact, to be honest, "Deidre's is almost a nice as yours. Not quite, but almost. You know, now that I've had the opportunity for a complete evaluation!"

"Ha!" Gwen said again. "And Zoe had better tits than me, too," she added in a grumpy tone.

"Oh, no! Not more of that," I said sternly. "You know you are the only one for me."

"Oh, really?" she asked, sarcastic but near incredulous as well.

"You know damned well what I mean," I said. If she did not clearly understand immediately, then I was shutting down this whole game, and we would go back to go-karts for our adrenaline jumpstarts.

Gwen looked at me. "I do," she admitted. "It's just... Am I never to be allowedsomeinsecurity?"

"Of course," I said, hugging her. "I have my own insecurities. The guardrail is anything that makes one of us insecure about the other! You can be insecure about yourself any time, as long as you promise to come to me immediately so I can fuck that shit right out of you!"

"Carl?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm feeling very insecure."

"Well, let's hope this Uber gets here," I replied with a smile. "What's the ETA?"

"You're asking me? You called for it," she replied.

Shit. We looked at each other and laughed as I hauled out my phone to actually summon the fucking car. "Just as well," Gwen chuckled. "This would have been a very awkward conversation to have in the back seat of some dude named Pete's Honda Civic."

A minute later I laughed so hard I almost pissed myself. (The bottle had been hit quite hard, after all.) "Look at this," I said, holding out the phone. "Our driver's name is actually Pete! And the car's a Honda!"

*

Sunday morning, Zoe waited until Gwen was less than five minutes from pushing the panic button about what happened before our friend finally texted my lady. I saw Gwen visibly relax as she read. "She and Deidre are decreeing that we all hit Yardbirds next Saturday," she told me, glad to have not been banished.

"Yardbirds?" I asked in surprise. "I thought that place was kind of over."

"Why do you want to go there?" Gwen spoke aloud as she typed.

Her phone dinged, and she gasped in laughter.

"What?"

"She says, 'It's well-lit'!" Gwen guffawed.

Well-lit or not, I would get revenge on Zoe for that...

"Speaking of making plans, I should call Ron tomorrow," I said.

"I hope they had a good time in Houston," she said. "Oooh! Dinner out and that movie?"

I sighed inwardly. Cathy and Gwen had been yakking about this drama coming out for weeks. Neither Ron nor I had much interest, but like all good men, we knew which fights should absolutely not be fought.

Plus, the rumors were, there were tits in it.

"Dinner and a movie, huh?" I deadpanned.

"Um, and, of course, drinks here, after?" she smiled quietly.

I leered at her and went ahead and called Ron, despite him still probably being in Houston.

"Ron Brown."

"Dude! Ya'll free Friday?" I asked.

"Well, our trip to Houston had been just fine, Carl," Ron replied acerbically. "I've already sweated out five pairs of underwear, but thanks for asking."

I ignored his act. It was not a new act.

"Gwen wants us all to do dinner out and then see that da... movie she and Cathy want to see."

"Christ. Wait. The one with the tits?"

"Why, no, Ron. I am not on speakerphone, now that you ask," I said drolly. "But Gwen says yes, that one."

"Yikes! So dinner and a movie, huh?" Ron asked.

Was that a little disappointment in his voice? That was... 100% awesome.

Actually, it was 5% jealousy and 95% awesome. But part of the 95% awesome was that flicker, and flicker only, of... provocation.

"Maybe drinks and conversation over here after the show?" I asked.

There was a fractional pause. Good.

"Based on a conversation Cathy and I had on the plane out here, I am confident that she will be down," Ron said at last.

"On the plane?" I snorted. "I'd have loved to be the person sitting in the row beside you for that."

"He had his noise-cancelling headphones on," Ron said firmly. "But," he added sheepishly, "the disapprovingly jealous look he gave me when we deplaned tells me they things might not have been working."

*

When we made it to the theater and got our popcorn, I entered the aisle first. When I reached my seat, I saw that Cathy had accidentally entered first behind me, with Gwen behind her. The two of them started to swap places, then stopped, grinned, and kept the order they were in. Cathy sat down next to me, and Ron found himself on the other end, next to my lady.

I grinned at Cathy. She looked back with a shrug. "No hassle. And maybe this will keep us all from talking too much during the show."

She was being charitable. Cruelly charitable. It had been Gwen and I, not them, who had been shushed by an usher six months ago. We had never been allowed to forget it.

I looked over at Gwen, but my woman was serenely rummaging in her purse for some non-existent need. Maybe these two had not entered in a random order after all...

My eyes met Ron's, and he looked inquiringly at me. I shrugged helplessly. Then we both smiled and sat back. The theater was damned near empty, except for us. Sucked for the studio.

And almost nothing happened. I mean, sure, Cathy and I had the armrest between us pushed up, like Ron and Gwen did. And we did practically snuggle together at points over the popcorn bucket we had claimed. Gwen held the other one for Ron.

But I kept my hands to myself, as did, tragically, Cathy. There was a little footsie, but that was it.

When the promised tits did indeed make their appearance, that too was an anti-climax. And Cathy risked talking in the theater as soon as they disappeared. "That's the only reason you agreed to come to the movie isn't it?" she quietly teased.

"Honestly?" I whispered back. "I'm underwhelmed. I've seen better," I paused. "Hell, I've fondled, and even nuzzled much better..."

That got me a nice smile and some more footsie, but nothing else, alas.

We had driven separately, and Ron and Cathy were in their car behind us on the way back to our place.

"So, not much happened with me and Cathy," I observed, as if discussing the fish tank.

"Us either," Gwen said. "It took me a bit, but I think I get it."

"Good. You can tell me, then. Um... Are they trying to back off a little?"

"Don't know on that front," she said. "But I'll bet that we were the ones holding back."

"I was thinking about doing something," I confessed. At least an arm around a shoulder, with maybe a hand drooping down to a breast? "But I just didn't."

"Oh, I thought about doing some things, too," Gwen said. "And they did too, unless I miss my guess. But I think they still see this... whatever it is, asourgame, and they still want to take our lead for now."

"And?"

"And I'm assuming your gut was telling you the same as I think mine told me, Carl. Making out in a movie theater with Ron would have felt more like a date between him and me than what you and I are looking for. That's not what I think we want out of... whatever it is we are trying." She turned in her seat toward me with a heart-melting smile. "I have the best date in the world right here. And I want no other." I smiled back at her.

I nodded. "Yeah. I like being your date." I smiled briefly her way, but swung my eyes back to the road quickly. I get nervous just watching a TV show where the driver in a scene starts looking at his passenger for dangerously long stretches. "I love being your date. And I have no real desire to spend time alone with, say, Zoe, or, well, Cathy. I mean, Cathy is cool. If circumstances arose for whatever reason, I'd happily have a drink, or watch a game with just her. But I wouldn't spend that time trying to get into her pants."

"Is that all a date is to you men? Just trying to get into a girl's pants?" Gwen teased.

"Every date with you was," I snorted. "Every date with you still is!" I paused. "But no. A date is a search for a connection. I have my connection."

"But then, where are we with Cathy and Ron?" Gwen said.

"I don't want a relationship with Cathy," I said.

"And I certainly don't want a relationship with Ron!" Gwen put in quickly.

"You don't have to be mean to him about it!" I laughed. "Look, going on a date with someone else would mean you were not there to provoke," I said. "I don't want that."

"Another guardrail?" she asked.

"Yep."

"Good," she said, satisfied. Almost. "I'm still not sure I need to be there foreverything, Carl," she went on, alluding to my groping the girls I the dark while she danced with Sammy. "And if I am there, I might not always be paying complete attention." She bit her lip as I laughed, surprised even at myself by how relaxed I felt about what she'd just said. "But I'd want to know what's going on." There was a long pause. "And just so you know, while I don't insist on being able to watch, and I don't need to watch, so far, I'm finding watching to be pretty fucking hot."

"I'm hoping you provoke the shit out of me tonight," I said. And then we started arguing over whether I needed to delay Ron and Cathy in the driveway long enough for Gwen to run in and do some spot cleaning.

In the end, I promised her a two-minute head start.

It wasn't needed.

They were not still behind us when we arrived, and Gwen and I looked at each other.

We stared down the street, any unnecessary housecleaning forgotten.

No headlights.

"Do you suppose the conversation in Ron's car led to some very different conclusions?" Gwen asked quietly.

"I'll admit I'm worried," I said.

"Worried I'm not going to get a chance to provoke you, or..." her tease trailed off uncomfortably.

"Both."

But then headlights swung around the corner and headed our way. Ron's Infiniti slid to a stop along the curb, and the two of them popped out with an eagerness that made the two of us relax.

"You didn't have to wait out here for us," Cathy said, slightly puzzled.

"I missed the light at the Frenchway intersection," Ron grumbled.

"Fuck, that light takesforever," I winced in sympathy.

"Especially at night," Cathy added. "When there is never any cross-traffic, and you are eager to get somewhere."

"In a hurry to get here?" Gwen said smoothly.

"I crave your husband's... fancy cocktails," Cathy said with a grin. She looked sternly at me. "Make with the fancy drinks, Mr. Mixologist!"

Okay. I spend too much money on fancy bottles. And fancy bar tools. And fancy glasses. And fancy recipe cards. To make fancy cocktails.

"I shall fulfill your fancies," I replied archly, and we went inside.

They all stood around my small bar and watched me make Mai Tais. There were some jibes about my occasional obsession, especially when I ran out back with a pair of clippers to cut some fresh mint for garnish. Honestly, I drink beer most of the time, but a man has to have a hobby!

There were no more jokes once I distributed the drinks.

There was some hesitation, however, and we just sort of stood there in the corner of our living room.

I wanted any number of things from this evening, but the thing I wanted most at that exact moment was to take a load off and relax. "Let's all sit down," I said, and walked over to my favorite chair, flopping down into it and sipping my Mai Tai.

"You don't have to rush, no one is going to take your favorite chair, darling!" Gwen teased as they all followed behind.

"You give me shit for being Mister Old Married Fifties Suburban Guy before age thirty," Ron snarked. "At least I don't have a 'favorite chair' yet!"

I flipped him off. "Drink your drink," I ordered.

I saw Gwen and Cathy exchange a glance, and Cathy put her hand on Gwen lightly to slow my woman down a step.

"I do not get the whole Man and His Chair thing," Cathy said out loud. "Let me try," she added, moving straight to me and settling into my lap.

Suddenly, I was sitting in my favorite chair, with a lovely woman who was not mine in my lap, my arm naturally flowing around her comfy waist while I held a fancy cocktail in my other hand.

"Nice chair, isn't it?" I asked, as if she were sitting on my chair instead of on me. I took a sip and set down my cocktail... to free up my other hand.

Cathy took the opportunity to shift around on my lap, which felt awesome all on its own, thank you, and snuggled in against me more thoroughly, one arm now around me as well. She sipped her cocktail. "I guess I can see the appeal. It's a very nice chair," she said, showing no signs of finding a seat of her own.

"Have a seat, Ron," Gwen said solicitously, pointing at our own large couch opposite.

Ron knows how to follow directions, and sat at the end that put him staring right at me where I was cuddling his wife.

This was obviously Gwen's plan, and she settled right next to him, kicked off her shoes and tucked her ankles up under herself on the couch. She leaned into Ron, and rested her arm on his lap, with her elbow inches from his cock, the forearm resting fully along his inner thigh, and her hand began fondling his knee idly. "So what did we all think of the movie?" she asked.

And we actually talked about the movie. For an extensive period of time.

Well, the girls talked about the movie. Ron and I made appropriate noises when asked and otherwise rolled our eyes at each other because the women were both conducting sweeping experiments in blatant cuddling. It was wonderfully uncomfortable.

Then Cathy said, "Carl thinks her tits were underwhelming."

Gwen started to acerbically ask, "Oh, really?"

But at the same moment, Ron blurted, "I know, right?"

I laughed. The two women now speared Ron with their gazes.

Ron looked like a guy does when multiple women are giving him the piebald eye. "Well, they were," he said defensively. Then, hell yeah, he rallied. "Look, she's hot as hell, and obviously famous. I imagine most guys have at least thought about getting to see them like that," he said with a wink at his wife in my arms. "But yeah, honestly, when we finally got to see them, they were a bit underwhelming. You said Carl agrees, right?" Ron said, looking to me for backup. I just shrugged in obvious agreement. My initial reaction had sparked this delightful little byplay, after all. As I nodded, I idly lifted one hand to gently caress one of Cathy's much better tits, before letting my hand fall back down around her waist. Ron saw and barely reacted, beyond a twinkle in his eye. "So, yeah, she was still pretty sexy in that movie. And I am in no way saying they were bad in the least. But I am surrounded by better breasts."

Ron indicated that the better breasts he spoke of included my woman's by lifting his hand and cupping one tightly as he made his case.

Thanks, dude. Gwen always needs reassurances about her breasts in Cathy's company.

Gwen did not look as if she needed reassurance right now. Mostly she just looked smug that she had gotten Ron to pull something... and about the way my eyes were fairly fixed on his hand on her tit.

Ron seemed to decide to make himself quite at home with his hand on my lady's breast. I know the look of a hand that has no intention of moving elsewhere anytime soon.

My own hand was just inches below Cathy's boob as I held her. It would just be a casual stretch to reach back up and settle it firmly on Cathy's generous mound. But is a me-too move really that provocative?

Instead, I slid my hand down, resting it now in the crook of Cathy's leg at the hip, my fingers lightly squeezing into the join.

Gwen gave me a look of 'well played'.

Ron pretended extravagantly not to notice.

Cathy just shifted a bit more, in a maneuver that brought my fingertips closer to being actually between her legs. "Are you guys still doing that cruise you were talking about?" she asked Gwen.

"No, we can't afford the one we really want, and my dad is insistent that we don't take a cruise that isn't top-class. 'You'll never be satisfied with a cheap cruise,' he says," Gwen responded, in her dead-on impression of my father-in-law-in-waiting.

He's impatiently waiting.

"Ron and I don't have any available vacation days for another six months," Cathy said. "but we are arguing about New Orleans or Miami when the time comes."

"New Orleans?" Gwen asked.

"We went once before, and it was a blast," Ron said. "But that was during Mardi Gras."

"Realllllly?" I asked, letting my inner lech sing loud. "And how many extra suitcases did you have to check to bring home all the beads a woman likeyougot there during Mardi Gras?" I teased Cathy, my drink-free hand just barely brushing that to which I alluded.

I was shoved. Lightly. But Cathy also blushed. "I just had a few strands I picked up."

"No whoop-dee-do?" Gwen asked supportively.

"I thought about it a little," Cathy admitted.

"A little?" Ron teased. "You went to the parade wearing a tight white teeshirt and no bra."

I may have made a pained noise. I was shoved again. Interestingly, every time Cathy shoved me, she shifted so as to let my fingers slide a fraction deeper down between her legs.