Laura did a double-take. "Did anyone ever think they were?"

Through a mouthful of banana, Josie sputtered, "Ah, c'mon, Laura. Two guys with one girl? Gay, gay, gay."

"Not gay!" Holy smokes, not even close to gay. Laura knew gay. Gay men, that is. Her high school boyfriend her senior year had turned out to be gay. He'd come out when they were juniors in college, home at Thanksgiving and hanging out in a piano bar with a group of friends. Ding! A million little questions had been answered with one big answer. What other hot-blooded seventeen-year-old teenager wanted to cuddle and kiss all the time instead of banging wherever they could get a shred of privacy? Or knew all the words to the disco songs? Or liked to go clothes shopping with her?

And eyed the same guys Laura surreptitiously checked out as they had wandered the mall?

Her gaydar wasn't pinging with Mike and Dylan. No way. it was just...complicated. That's all.

Why was it always complicated?

Josie swallowed hard, trying to clear her mouth. "I know that. I asked."

"You asked?" Laura's turn to sputter.

"They closed right up. That Dylan is one scary dude when he's being cold. Mike, too – but Dylan was worse. I felt like the ice king had just cast a spell over the booth."

"You asked them that at Jeddy's? Jesus, Josie. You have some – "

"Balls. Yeah. I know. I had to ask, though. If you're just some bed toy for them, then I'm not letting anyone do that to my best friend, because that is some fucked up mental shit right there. If two gay guys are just out trawling for a chick they can bang to get off their jollies, it won't be you."

Laura started peeling a clementine. "I'm touched." She frowned. "I guess. In your own extremely convoluted way, you mean well."

"And, by the way, no foursomes. Dylan shut that one down." The orange wedge in Laura's mouth went flying across the room, landing in the sink as she did a spit take.

"You asked about a foursome?"

Josie winked. "I was just testing them."

"Oh, my God." No wonder Dylan had made a funny face when Josie's name had come up last night. Mike's arched eyebrows without a smile had made her wonder as well. What in the ever-loving hell did they think of her best friend? And how did this reflect on how they viewed her? The night had been nice. Just nice. And just nice was exactly what she'd needed after far too many nights of surprise, shock, passion and boundary pushes. Breaks. Annihilations.

Having a few boundaries in place where affection, banter, food and fun were all that were expected of the night had been refreshing.

And now Josie...

She wagged a finger in Josie's face. "No more foursome tests. Or jokes. Or – ewww." She shuddered. "And no more going behind my back to tell them how I feel."

"Someone has to."

"Has to what?"

"Tell them how you feel. And frankly, if you won't do it, I will."

Laura plunked her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. "Why? Who appointed you the keeper of my feelings?"

"Ryan."

Jolt. "You don't see me sabotaging your relationships!"

"I'm not sabotaging anything, Laura! I'm saving your relationship. S. relationships. Well, it's one, but with two guys. Where is Miss Manners' Plural Guide to Threesomes?"

This was getting out of hand. "To answer your original question, no. I don't have to kiss one and then the other. I asked."

"You asked!" Josie clapped her hands gleefully. "Did they hand you a neatly printed manual on how to have a perma-threesome?"

Glare. "I wish you came with a user's manual so I could find your off switch."

Smirk. "You're not the first person to say that to me."

Sigh. "And I won't be the last."

Josie reached for her hand, the gesture one of caring. "Laura. Seize this. Accept it. Yes, it's crazy. No, no one has words to describe it. And yes, I did go behind your back and tell them about you – because someone needed to. They're really great guys. You know that. Don't blow this." She released her hand and stood.

"Are you really jealous?" Laura squeaked out, surprised by Josie's tenderness.

"Jealous? Hell, yes. I don't want to take it away from you, of course." She grabbed an apple and headed toward the door. "I just wouldn't mind finding two guys like that for myself."

The door shut on her words. Sip. The coffee tasted better than normal. Calming and soothing yet putting her on alert to start the day. Stretching, her arms reached high and her shirt rode up a bit, exposing a thin expanse of belly flesh. Not wearing a bra, her breasts rubbed against the thin cloth of her cotton jersey, her pajamas loose and comfortable. The day was about to start and work loomed large.

Last night she'd left their apartment after watching a stupid comedy she'd picked simply because she'd already seen it the previous week, with Josie. Picking something she'd seen made sense, giving her the mental space to go through an hour and a half squished between Mike and Dylan, trying to figure out how to just be as, well – three.

Those ninety minutes, followed by gorging themselves on an amazing tiramisu Dylan had hand crafted, were like living in parallel. Half of her just enjoyed every minute, the domestic normalcy easier to sink into than she'd imagined.

The other half was the problem: judging. Questioning. Analyzing. Poking.

Doubting.

If she could just quell that half of her then this could work. Really work.

Where was her off switch? Her user's manual? All she needed was the good half. The half that believed, that turned toward healing and tenderness and love in whatever form it took.

Meanwhile, both halves needed a shower. She had another threesome in mind right now: her, Mr. Showerhead, and Bob, her battery-operated boyfriend. That was a threesome both halves of her could get behind.

And now she didn't have to fantasize about faceless lovers with their hands and mouths all over her. She had a very real memory to draw on.

And a very real promise of so much more. Hers for the taking, in fact, if she just reached out.

She reached out, alright. Turned on the shower, grabbed Bob, and slipped out of her jammies as the water heated up. The first spray of water hit her, tickling her shoulder with little wet pin pricks, and soon her head was under the water, her hair soaking fast as the water wended its way down her body. Ah, how different her hands felt against her own skin today. No sex last night; they'd ended the evening with warm hugs and tentative kisses, each man waiting his turn for a moment with her. It had been sweet. Mellow.

Just right.

As a smile played across her lips and she reached for the shower head, she marveled that something so simple – dinner, a movie at home, a homemade dessert, two kisses – could compete her so readily. She inhaled deeply as the spray tickled her clit, the shower head doing its magic as she balanced it in her right hand, left reaching for good old Bob. This Bob (ah, she had a drawer full of electronic boyfriends...) was purple and shiny and sleek. No need for a clit attachment when she had a shower head. And now, she no longer held Bob and the spray nozzle, but instead that was Dylan's mouth.

Mike's hands roamed her back, soaping her as his torso slid along her rib cage, hard muscle hot and wet, the spray bouncing off skin the color of sun-kissed honey, his face wet and eyes intense, mouth reaching down for hers as his fingers slipped between her legs and began to stroke her.

Now Dylan's mouth was on her, kissing her hips, her ass, desire pooling and expanding deep inside, eager to clamp down on him as he thrust inside her, little sighs and groans in need of a reason to be made. Ah, those abs, wet and slick and rubbing against her breasts, lips on hers, tongue exploring as Mike's hands did their magic on her clit, tracing lazy circles that took her breath away again. Again. And again, hitching higher as he built an orgasm from scratch, like a fine artisan plying his trade, infusing the final work with a delicacy and craftsmanship only one, lone man could spin. A lone man with eyes that cut through her flesh like a hot knife in butter, hands melting her skin to a core of need that pulsed, red and eager for more of him. Of them. Of all three as one.

Bending slightly, Mike used his muscled thighs to pick her up, water making their skin slick, the friction adding to her craving as he pulled her pussy to his erection, lifting her enough that she could wrap her legs about him as Dylan's mouth made its way down her collarbone, over her pink rose petal nipples, down to her abdomen and around to play with her back. Completely taken by surprise, the pressure of Mike's eager rod nudging her clit was what she expected but instead he slipped fully within her passage, her body stretching to take him in as she was weightless, arms wrapped about his neck and face pressed against his wet pecs, gasping for time and air and a split second she desired to accommodate the new –

Thrust. She arched her back, consumed by this, her eyes catching Dylan's hands on Mike's shoulders. Nodding, Mike slipped out of her as she moaned, "No!" Dylan's warm mouth took hers as they turned her about, Mike's slippery front to her back, Dylan dropping to his knees, mouth descending on her womanhood as if it were the source of oxygen and all life. His tongue flicked up boldly as Mike's pulsing rod entered her from behind, the twin sensations making her nearly slip and fall in the water's embrace.

Tickling her labia, Dylan used his hands to roam her ass, her legs, her knees and feet as Mike pounded her from behind, his hands on either side of her, pushing into the shower wall, she jolted up, slightly, with each thrust, the press against her cervix maddening and layered, building a climax she knew would make her gush. Her body expanded, limbs combining and morphing into one big pleasure center, the division between her body and Mike's and Dylan's becoming less distinct with every tongue touch, every impaling, every caress. As Dylan zeroed in on her clit with tight, quick laps and Mike's legs grew thicker with exertion she felt an implosion beginning, her hands raking Dylan's hair as she began to scream.

"Oh, God, just right there. Like that. Oh! Oh! Oh!" Mike lifted one leg onto the side of the bathtub and shifted her hips just so, the new focus making her entire body seize up and then explode with a scream she had never heard, a rush of water from her pussy the gush she knew would come, her squirting erratic and a sign of intensity. Mike groaned, too, then jerked, his body pouring its seed into her, though he pulled out abruptly as she flailed and moaned, too caught up in a climax that was now out of her control.

Dylan slipped in her, filling the hole Mike left, his cock sure and enormous, angled differently and touching on a spot that –

"Ah!" she cried out, amazed there was more. "More?" she rasped, Dylan's thighs holding her up, her face kissing him as his arms snaked around her, Mike slumped against the wall, his orgasm finishing as Dylan took her now, the two sharing her and –

Bob shot across the bathtub and skittered to the drain. She threw her head back as the massive orgasm wracked her body, her legs no longer trustworthy, her arm grabbing the safety bar just in time as her neck tightened with the force of wave after wave of orgasm, anus clenching and opening as her pussy pushed against it, the deep muscles exorcising her pent-up desires. She imagined the three of them, spent, all sitting under the spray and twitching as the leftover neurological impulses wiggled their way out of their bodies, this drawing of three giving life to fantasies most people could only nurture, well –