Zoe, Naked at Work - Thursday (


Their hushed voices woke me up, one in my left ear, one in my right.

"Are you in love with her?"

"I don't know.  Maybe.  I know I need her."

"After just two days?  I find that hard to believe, Marie."

"It's been building up for a while, a few months.  I didn't have the
courage until now." 

"Then why did she go out with me last night?"

"It was a mercy date, Roger.  She felt sorry for you."

"I don't buy that.  You saw us last night.  Zoe wouldn't have asked me up
here out of pity." 

"Shhh...lower your voice.  You'll wake her."

"Sorry."

"Does she mean anything to you?  Or is she just a sports fuck, Rog?"

"Sports what?"

"Another conquest, a notch on your bedpost."

"I don't know where you got the impression that I'm some kinda stud,
Marie.  I haven't had a date in months and the last time I slept with
someone was last year, during RenFair." 

"RenFair?"

"It's a medieval thing, but that's besides the point.  It's not up to us
anyway.  It's Zoe's choice.  Zoe's decision.  And you know, if she wants
to see both of us, I'm fine with that." 

"You would be.  This must be the your dream come true, sleeping with two
women.  Free lesbian sex show.  How much do guys pay to watch two girls
get it on?" 

"I wouldn't know, Marie.  Last time I went to a strip club was in
college." 

"When was that, last year?"

"Try six years.  Anyway, you haven't addressed my point.  Is it her
decision or is it not?" 

"It is up to Zoe, but..."

"Then it's settled, Marie.  No ifs, ands, or buts."

"Don't think for a second that you're going to get the last word here,
Roger..." 

"He isn't," I said, opening my eyes.  "I get to have the last word."

"You're awake," Marie said.  "I'm sorry..."

"I've been up for a few minutes, listening to the two of you fight over me
like I'm some piece of property..." 

"We weren't fighting," Roger said.  "We were just having a...discussion."

"Some discussion," I said, sitting up.  My head was throbbing from the
wine and sake I'd had the night before.  For a moment I considered calling
in sick, but I had too much work waiting for me, meetings, calls,
everything I hadn't gotten to the day before.  "I'll be back in a minute,"
I said, climbing out of bed and going straight to the bathroom.  Aspirin,
cold water, a minute of peace and quiet. 

"You ask her," Roger was saying when I returned to the bedroom.

"How much of our conversation did you hear, Zoe?" Marie asked me.

"Enough to know that we're going to have a problem," I said.  "Both inside
and outside of the office.  Unless we can reach some sort of
understanding..."  I would have liked to get another hour of sleep, but I
had to settle this somehow.  Handing my glass of water to Marie, I climbed
back into bed and sat cross-legged between them. 

"Last night you said you'd suck him for me, Marie.  Was that true?"

"Yes, Zoe,"  She took a sip of water and handed the glass to Roger.

"Roger, you'd have no problem if I saw Marie while we dated?"

"None whatsoever," he said, taking a sip from the glass.

"Then I don't see what the problem is," I said.  "I've dated two men at
the same time before.  When one got serious I broke it off with the
other." 

"But, Zoe..." Marie said, her eyes glistening in the morning light.  "I
don't know if I could..."  I crawled over to her and straddled her hips,
leaning over and kissing her. 

"Indulge me," I whispered.  "Just for a while."

"Okay," she said.  "For you..."

"Thank you, Marie."  As I kissed her again I could feel Roger sliding next
to us, caressing my back, pressing his lips to my shoulder. 

"I want the two of you to kiss and make up," I said.

"Zoe..."  There was uncertainty in Marie's eyes.

"For me?"

"For you," she said, glancing at me and then towards Roger.  As they
pressed their lips together I cupped Marie's breasts in my hands, bringing
her tiny nipples to my lips, licking each one in turn.  They were still
kissing as I pulled the sheets from her body and curled up between her
legs, running my fingertips down her belly, up her thighs, and gently
teasing her cleft.  Marie let out a quiet moan as I parted her lips,
exposing her most intimate places, her secret pearl, already rising to
meet my tongue. 

"Oh...oh...Zoe..."  They'd broken off their kiss, her cries of pleasure no
longer muffled by his lips.  Roger was fondling and licking her breasts as
I began to ravish her sex, wrapping my lips around Marie's swollen clit
and sucking it into my mouth.  As I probed her cleft with my fingertips,
she undulated her hips, seeking to draw my fingers inside her passage.  As
her sex began to spasm around my fingers, I felt her body begin to tense
and relax, tense and relax, the telltale sign that she was close to her
release. 

"Would you like to feel him inside you, Marie?"

"Yes...no...no," she moaned.  "I mean, I don't have my diaphragm."

"I have condoms," I said.

"But don't you want to...?" she asked me.

"I'm a little sore down there."

"Sorry," Roger said.

"It's okay," I replied as I reached into my bedside table for a condom. 
"I needed a nice hard one last night." 

"I'll try to be a little more gentle," Roger said.  He unrolled the latex
sheath over his erection and took my place between Marie's thighs.  As he
pressed the tip of his cock against Marie's wet pussy, she looked at me, a
longing expression in her eyes. 

"For you, Zoe," she said.  "This is for you."

I laid down next to her and pressed my lips to hers, seeking her tongue
with my own.  Marie slipped her arm around my body and clung to me as
Roger entered her.  She let out a stifled gasp as he filled her with his
hardness.  The journey to her release, briefly interrupted, began anew. 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" I asked her as Roger began to thrust.

"It does," Marie said, looking down at his cock as it slid in and out of
her sex. 

"How long has it been since you've...?"

"Over a year," she said.  "Since Jason left for New York."

"Jason?" Roger asked.

"My boyfriend," Marie replied.

"Boyfriend?" Roger said.  "I thought you were...?"

"Bi," she said.  "You don't have to be so gentle, Roger.  I'm not made of
glass."  He smiled and, as he began to thrust faster, I wrapped my thighs
around Marie's leg, pressing my sex against her milky skin, feeling a
pleasant tingle down there with each stroke of Roger's hips. 

"Mmmm...Zoe...," Marie moaned as I suckled her breasts.  "Feels nice..."

Roger did something unexpected: he kissed Marie again, tentatively at
first and then as passionate as he'd kissed me the night before.  She was
by no means unreceptive, another surprise.  I felt something resembling
jealousy for a moment.  Yes, I wanted to see both of them, and I wanted
them to stop bickering over me, but seeing them kiss made me feel like a
voyeur, an interloper, spying on an intimate moment between lovers.  At
the same time, I felt like saying "Cut that out, you two!".  I'd loved the
attention they'd both shown me.  Now I was just a third wheel, humping
Marie's thigh while I played with her nipples. 

I tried to get past the awkwardness of the situation.  Roger was stretched
out over Marie, pounding her hard, leaving no room for me to ravish her
breasts with my lips and tongue.  But that didn't mean I couldn't slip my
hand between them, caressing her soft, smooth belly, reaching between her
legs, finding her clit and rubbing it.  She broke off her kiss with Roger
and turned her head to face me, her mouth open as if she was surprised,
pulling me closer, her fingers digging into my back.  As she pressed her
lips to mine, I gently pinched her button, feeling her body grow tense,
goosebumps rising on her arms and thighs. 

Marie stiffened and let out a shriek when I pinched her clitoris, arching
her back and nearly throwing Roger off the bed.  He tightened his grip on
her waist and buried his tool inside her, gyrating his hips as she bucked
and thrashed beneath him. 

"Oh, fuck...I'm...Zoe...I'm..."  Marie couldn't finish her sentence.  She
stiffened, her body rising off the bed, her breasts shaking as she
quivered.  Suddenly, she relaxed, falling back to the mattress, softly
murmuring "Omigod, omigod, omigod..." 

Roger gave one last hard thrust and let out a groan, his butt cheeks
tightening and his balls twitching as he filled the condom with his seed. 
Visibly spent, he collapsed on top of Marie, trapping my hand between
against her sex.  As I tried to pull it out from between them, my
fingertip dragged across her pearl.  She let out a soft gasp. 

"Zoe..." Marie sighed as Roger withdrew from her sex.  There was an almost
wistful timbre to her voice, punctuated with another delicate gasp as
Roger's latex-clad cock slipped out of her cleft.  As she leaned her head
against my shoulder, I felt a pang of guilt.  Marie was falling in love
with me.  No, she already had fallen in love and I made Roger take her in
my bed, something she wouldn't have done if it wasn't for her feelings for
me.  It was almost as if I'd raped her with Roger's cock. 

"Marie," I whispered as Roger got out of bed and went to the bathroom to
dispose of the condom.  "I'm sorry." 

"Sorry?" she asked me, planting a soft kiss on my lips and caressing my
cheek.  "Why are you sorry?" 

"I shouldn't have...I mean...you didn't want to..."

"No, Zoe," she said, grazing my cheek with her soft lips.  "I wanted to. 
Not just for you, not just for us." 

"Us," I said, trying out the word.  What did it mean?  Me and Marie?  Me
and Roger?  Both of them at the same time?  I'd never been in this sort of
situation before, despite what I had said to them about dating two men at
the same time.  This was different: two lovers in the same bed.  It was so
confusing. 

"Us," Marie said, with a tone of finality, as if everything could be
explained in that one syllable.  "As long as there's a 'you and me', Zoe,
I don't care about anything else.  I don't own you, but I want to be able
to borrow you now and again."  She laughed, a lilting laugh, and I felt a
weight lifting from my heart.  As Roger returned from the bathroom, Marie
and I were hugging and laughing together. 

"Hey, it's getting late," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Let's all call in sick," I said.

"Yeah, let's," Marie agreed, reaching for Roger's arm and pulling him down
next to us.  "You've got plenty of rubbers left, right Zoe?" 

"A whole box," I said.

"Shit," Roger said, looking both tempted and terrified.  "I really have to
get to the office and..." 

"But, Rog," Marie protested in a sing-song voice.  "You're our favorite
sex toy!"  You could see the terror in his face as he tried to think if
someone could be fucked to death, a look that softened into a grin when
Marie and I started giggling. 

I would have liked to spend the day in bed with the two of them, even if
we did nothing but snuggle together.  But Roger was right.  It was time to
start the day, to wash up and get dressed and head into the office.  While
Roger took a quick shower, Marie and I made bagels and coffee.  She
planned on driving back to her loft to shower and get dressed before
heading into work, so I had the bathroom all to myself after Roger was
through.  

While I toweled myself off, I could hear my upstairs neighbors, Alice and
Gabe, through the ventilation system.  They were obviously enjoying a
morning quickie in their bathroom before leaving for work.  At least I
think they were.  It was possible that there was another reason for Alice
to be shouting "Fuck me, Gabe!" over and over. 

When Marie, Roger, and I left my apartment together, I had a feeling that
we'd run into Alice and Gabe Cooper in the elevator.  Sure enough, there
they were.  Gabe had a self-satisfied smile on his face.  Alice looked,
well, simply satisfied. 

"Good morning, Zoe," she said.

"Morning," I replied before making introductions.  Gabe and Roger
exchanged handshakes while Alice gave Marie a long look up and down and
then back up again. 

"We're looking forward to seeing you tonight," Alice said.  My mind went
blank for a moment until I remembered that she'd invited me to their
dinner party. 

"Oh, right," I said.  "Tonight.  What time was that again?"

"After eight," she replied.  "Right, honey?"

"Right," Gabe said, taking his own long look at Marie.  "Your friends are
more than welcome to join us." 

"I couldn't..." Marie started to say.

"Nonsense," Alice said, cutting her off.  "We'd love to have you, too. 
The more the merrier.  Right, Gabe?" 

"Of course," he said, flashing a smile and fixing me with a strangely
reptilian gaze.  I felt suddenly vulnerable, like a mouse in a snake pit. 
"How about you, sport?" he asked Roger. 

"I...uh, I have a..." Roger sputtered.  Before he could finish his
thought, I took his hand and squeezed it.  "Well...I, uh...I guess I
could..." 

"Wonderful," Alice said as the elevator opened up on the lobby.  "We'll
look forward to seeing you at eight."  Marie and I stepped out of the
elevator, followed by Roger.  As the doors began to close, Alice smiled
and gave a little wave, and then they were gone, headed down to the
parking garage in the basement. 

"They're a strange pair," Marie said.

"No shit," Roger added.

"You guys don't have to come tonight if you don't want to."

"Are you disinviting us, Zoe?" Roger said.

"No, no, no.  I mean that it might be weird and all."

"Then wouldn't you want some moral support?" Marie asked.

"I'd love that, but..."

"We got your back, Zoe," Roger said, looping his thumbs in the belt loops
of his trousers and trying hard to look like a badass.  Marie saw this and
stifled a giggle. 

"Okay, thanks," I said.  "Let's meet here at seven for a drink first."

"Sounds good," Marie said.

"Can we walk you to your car?" Roger asked.

"Thanks, but I'm right at the end of the block," she replied, pulling her
keys from her purse and thumbing the black alarm switch.  Fifty feet away,
a silver SUV chirped its horn and flashed its lights twice. 

"See you at the office, then," I said.

"See you soon."  Marie leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek
and winked at Roger before heading to her car. 

Roger unlocked the passenger side of his big old Ford and opened the door
for me.  As he walked around to the driver's side, I leaned across the big
bench seat and flipped the lock up for him.  He sat down and slotted the
key into the receptacle on the dash but hesitated before waking the big
V-8 engine.  As the motor burbled to life he turned to face me. 

"She's really fallen for you," he said.  "Like, I know I'm not the most
perceptive person when it comes to women and feelings and all, but just
the way she looks at you..." 

"I know," I said, taking his hand in my own.

"And you?"

"I don't know," I said.  "It's all so new to me.  I mean, I felt like a
teenage girl again when I was with her the other night, the way my heart
was beating, the way I felt dizzy and all..." 

"Sounds like love."

"Maybe you're right."  I gave Roger's hand a squeeze and let go.  He
palmed the shift lever and threw the car into gear. 

"Whatever you want me to do, Zoe," he said as we waited at a stop light.

"What do you mean?"

"Stay, go, whatever.  I'll do it."

"Don't you want to be with me?"

"I do, I do," he said.  "But I don't want to be in the way."

"You're not in the way, Roger," I said, sliding closer to him and leaning
against his shoulder. 

"But if I was, you'd tell me.  Right?"

"Noble Sir Roger," I laughed, giving him a kiss in the cheek.  He hadn't
shaved that morning and was a bit stubbly.  "Let's take it a day at a
time, okay?" 

"Whatever you say."  Roger kissed the top of my head as the light changed.

As we approached the office, I was glad to see that there was no crowd of
protesters, no phalanx of cops, no gaggle of cameramen and reporters
blocking the streets.  Roger pulled into the parking garage and wheeled
the car into his space.  Just as he was about to pull the keys from the
dash, I pulled him closer and planted a kiss on his lips. 

"Thanks," I said.

"For what?"

"For last night, for this morning, for what you said on the way over."

"I should be thanking you," Roger said.

"Yeah, I know," I laughed.

"Thanks, Zoe."  Roger returned the kiss, a little harder, a little more
passionate.  It was a good kiss, the kind I liked.  Slow, a bit of a
nibble on the lips, just a bit of tongue, a kiss I wouldn't have thought
I'd be sharing with Roger just a day before.  I gave the back seat a quick
glance after he broke off our kiss with a light brush of his lips against
mine.  If only we had a bit more time... 

Hazel had a concerned look on her face when I stepped off the elevator and
walked into our lobby, a look that melted into barely concealed surprise
when she saw Roger walking a step behind me. 

"Zoe, there's a reporter waiting in your office."

"Reporter?"

"Trish Peyton," she said, handing over a pair of phone messages.

"Does the Old Man know?" I asked her.

"He came in with her," Hazel said.  "Said she could wait for you."

"Thanks," I said as Roger passed the reception desk.

"Zoe," Hazel said in a hushed whisper.  "Did you and Roger...?"

I just gave her a sly smile as I pocketed my messages and walked into the
office. 

The door to my office was open and Trish Peyton was seated across from my
desk, talking on a cell phone.  She cut her conversation short when she
saw me and folded her phone, standing up and extending her hand.  I
noticed that we were wearing nearly identical pantsuits, hers navy blue,
mine black. 

"Zoe, it's a pleasure to see you again," she said, taking my hand.

"Same here."  I put my briefcase down on my desk and closed the door. 
"What can I do for you?" 

"I ran into Ed Foley last night," she said.

"Ran into?"

"It just so happened that we were at the same restaurant."

"A lucky coincidence."

"That it was," she said.

"Would you excuse me for a minute?" I said.

"Certainly."  She unfolded her flip phone and punched a few numbers as I
left the room, heading for the Old Man's office.  His door was open and he
was seated behind his desk, smoking a cigar and reading the morning paper. 

"How can you smoke those things so early in the morning?" I asked him.

"This is the best one of the day," he said, flicking a cylinder of ash
from the tip of his cigar. 

"I thought the cigar after sex was the best one?" I said, remembering
something he'd said a few years ago, in Chicago, when we'd gone to bed
together. 

"Heh," Ed replied, sticking the moist end of the cigar between his teeth
and smiling around it. 

"You know she played you, Ed," I said, standing across from his desk but
not taking a seat.  "Slept with you just to get an interview with me." 

"I'm not complaining," the Old Man replied, folding his newspaper and
leaning back in his big black leather chair. 

"What if I don't want to talk to her?"

"Suit yourself."

"What if I cast the company and the Program in an unfavorable light?"

"No big deal," he said, letting out a puff of blue-tinted smoke.  "But I
trust you, Zoe.  Trust you to do right by the firm." 

"And the Program?"

"I could care less about that," he said, leaning forward in his seat.  "Or
Cal for that matter.  He's a hired hand.  Say what you want." 

"And what's in it for me?"

"I'm sure she'd sleep with you, too," Ed replied.  "You'd have to ask her
nicely, though." 

"She's not my type, Ed."

"Whatever.  Seriously, I watched you on the news again last night. 
Noticed something I hadn't seen before.  That look in your eyes.  You
liked it.  Liked the spotlight, the cameras, the microphones stuck in your
face like so many cocks..." 

"Ed..."

"Okay, sorry," he said, leaning back again.  "Crossed the line there.  But
you know what I mean.  You've got a chance to tell your side of the story.
 Do you mean to tell me that you'd pass that up?" 

He had a point.  In all of the commotion and confusing of the previous
day, I wanted nothing more than to make it all go away.  But now that
things had quieted down, there was a nagging thought that stuck in the
back of my mind like a burr on a sweater.  Was this how I was going to be
remembered?  Was this how I'd be seen forever, a naked woman with a
bullhorn ranting at a crowd?  The footage, with my breasts and sex either
pixillated or blacked out, had gone national.  Probably even further than
the networks, CNN, Fox News, and others.  It was on the front page of the
local papers and USA Today, and I wondered if Asian SkyNews subscribers
and European BBC viewers had gotten a peek at my goodies.  I wondered if
Iranian mullahs were railing against my shameless display at this very
moment. 

Ed was right, but for the wrong reason.  I'd talk to Trish Peyton, on
camera, on the record, if only to try to spin things my way.  It wouldn't
be as widely distributed as yesterday's footage, but I had to start
somewhere. 

I left Ed, his cigar, and his self-satisfied smile and went back to my
office.  Trish was standing now, pretending to be interested in the prints
I had on my office wall. 

"Everything settled?" she asked me.

"For now," I said.  "When do you want to do this?"

"I can have a crew here in thirty minutes."

"I want to lay down some ground rules."

"Of course," Trish said, pulling out a notebook and pen from her purse.

"My personal life, my family: out of bounds."

"Fair enough," she said.  "But I've read some of your father's books."

"I want to keep them out of this."

"He did advocate nudism..."

"He prefers the term 'naturism'..."

"He did advocate 'naturism' in _Life Is For Living_," Trish said, glancing
at her notes. 

"Off the record," I said, getting an nod in return.  "We practiced a
naturist lifestyle when I was younger.  But this, the Program, has nothing
to do with that." 

"I see."

"Naturism is healthy, an expression of freedom, an way of getting closer
to the earth, the wind, the sun.  This...Program is pathological, almost
sadistic in its implementation." 

"I understand," Trish said.  "So the company..."

"It's not the company per se," I insisted.  "And don't expect me to slam
the firm in our interview.  I'm still loyal to Ed and the people I work
with.  I don't want to see this spun that way." 

"Okay..."

"It's Calvin Purdy, the consultant who implemented this thing."

"Yes, Cal, Cal," Trish said, riffling through the pages of her notebook. 
"Interesting.  Have you read any of his...?" 

"Stories?" I said, giving her a sly smile.  "I skimmed them.  Not exactly
my cup of tea.  You googled him?" 

"Of course," she laughed.  "Don't know how I ever did this job without
it." 

"Then you know about as much as I do about him."

"Too much information you might say."

"Way too much."

"I have a request of my own, Zoe," Trish said, closing her notebook.

"Try me."

"We'd like you to do the interview in the nude."

"You know, I knew you were going to ask that."

"So you're willing to do it?"

"Yes, but..."

"But what?"

"You have to join me," I said, watching her television smile fade to a
look of dread.  "And your crew, too." 

"I don't know if..."  Her dread melted into horror.

"Well, thanks for coming by," I said, ambling over to the door.

"No, wait...I need...I need to talk to my crew first."

"Take all the time you need."  As I left the office to get a cup of
coffee, I could hear her phone chirp to life.  I knew she'd do it.  This
was too big of a story for her to resist.  I wanted to do the interview
naked because that would almost guarantee that it would get as wide an
audience as the footage of yesterday's protest. 

Trish's crew showed up twenty minutes later; a cameraman, a soundman, and
a make-up artist.  As they set up in the conference room, Trish and I
undressed in my office.  Beneath her navy blue pantsuit she wore a cream
silk camisole and control panty.  She hesitated for a moment before
shedding her lingerie. 

"Damn stretch marks," Trish said, folding her camisole and laying it over
the back of a chair.  "But that's the worst I can say about having kids." 

"How many?" I said as I skinned off my panties.

"Two," she replied, looking at her reflection in the window and putting a
stray lock of hair back in place.  "Both boys." 

"I think you're in great shape."

"That's nice of you to say," Trish said.  We walked out of my office,
heading towards the conference room.  I caught a glimpse of Danielle, just
walking in from reception.  She did a double take when she saw us. 

"Would you excuse me for a moment, Trish?"

"Certainly," she said, heading into the conference room.  Danielle rushed
over as soon as the reporter was out of earshot. 

"Does the Old Man know?" Dani asked.

"It was his idea," I replied.  "She waylaid him last night."

"Does he always think with his dick?" she whispered.

"Hey, two heads are better than one," I laughed, "and you know which one
makes better decisions." 

"That's bad," Dani giggled.  "You'll be done by lunch, right?"

"I hope so."

"Good, because I want to hear how last night went."

"You wouldn't believe it if you were there," I said.  I could hardly
believe it myself.  Dani gave my arm a squeeze and I headed into the
conference room. 

As per our agreement, Trish's crew was as naked as we were.  Well, almost.
Her sound person, a white woman in her late thirties with closely cropped
blonde hair, wore an open khaki vest with about twenty pockets, some
containing lengths of cable and connectors.  The cameraman, a stocky black
man in his forties or fifties, and the make-up artist, a tall, thin
Hispanic man in his twenties, were both in the raw, though the cameraman
wore his battery pack, a thick black belt, low around his hips, nearly
obscuring his crotch.  

Trish sat in a chair, a paper apron around her neck, while the make-up man
applied foundation to her face.  When the make-up artist, Fabian, had
finished with Trish, he started on me, clipping the paper apron around my
neck and giving me the same pancake make-up treatment.  He worked quickly,
silently.  The only sound in the conference room other than the
ever-present hum of the air conditioner was the pages of Trish's notebook
as she flipped through her notes. 

Peter, the cameraman, had us arrange our chairs so that we were both in
the frame but with the conference table obscuring our laps.  Then we
started rolling.  Trish read her questions from her notes while Peter kept
the camera trained on my face.  After the interview, they would shoot her
asking the questions over again, footage that would be spliced into the
interview, along with some "reaction shots" of Trish pretending to smile
or frown at the answers I'd already given.  It was a standard television
news technique, one that I was somewhat aware of, but it's different when
you actually see it happen.  Art and artifice. 

The substance of the interview was the Program.  I avoided mentioning Cal
and his company by name, something I knew Trish would fill in later.  I
neither praised nor condemned it, not openly at least, though I wondered
if coded phrases like "supposedly works" and "purported to achieve a
favorable outcome" were too subtle for the News At Eleven. 

Only once did Trish step out of our pre-arranged boundaries, asking
whether I had a significant other, a question that earned a silent glare
in response.  It was my fear that there would be a sort of backlash to
this interview, not so much from moralizing types but rather from single
men who might equate my willingness to bare myself in public with a
willingness to do anything and everything. 

I managed to wrap up the interview with a not-so-subtle plug for the firm,
a mention of how much I loved this city, and a word about how wonderful
this town was for nurturing a business, a pitch that should have earned me
a bouquet of roses and a testimonial dinner from the Chamber of Commerce. 
Then Peter snapped off the kleig lights and we were done.  All that was
left was for Trish to shoot her questions and reaction shots.  I thanked
her for the opportunity to tell my side of things and left, heading back
to my office to salvage the rest of the business day. 

"How'd it go?" Danielle asked me as she poked her head through my office
doorway. 

"I'll find out tonight," I replied.  "You never know how these things end
up after they're through editing." 

"True enough," she said.  "I'm going downstairs to the deli.  Want a
salad?" 

"Please," I said, reaching for my purse.  "Get me an iced tea, too."  I
pulled out a ten dollar bill and proffered it but Danielle shook her head. 

"My treat," Dani said.  "As long as I get to hear about last night."

"Well, if that's your price," I said, "maybe I should have held out for
sushi instead." 

"Gimme some good dish and I'll take you to out to Takeshima this weekend,"
she laughed as she headed out to the deli. 

Dani returned about fifteen minutes later and we ate our salads in her
office instead of our usual luncheon spot, the conference room. 
Considering all I had to tell her, we needed the privacy.  I started with
my dinner with Roger and worked my way up to the end of the evening
slowly, stringing her along, knowing how she'd react.  She was my closest
friend, both in and out of the office, and I was more than confident that
she'd accept whatever I had to say, without judgment.  But I also knew
that I'd been a different person that week, feeling different, looking at
the world through new eyes, saying and doing things I'd never done before. 

"Both of them?" Dani said, nearly choking on a piece of lettuce.

"Both of them," I replied.

"And Marie's okay with this?"

"She'd prefer to have me all to herself, but she's willing to settle for
whatever she can get." 

"And what did Roger think of all this?"

"I think he's in Dude Heaven," I said.  "The only thing better would be
for me and Marie to fight over him." 

"In mud or Jello, no doubt," Dani laughed.  "As if."

"He surprised me."

"How so?"

"Well, he cleaned up pretty well," I said.  "And he wasn't the obsessive
nerd he comes off as at work.  At least not nearly as much." 

"You're going to keep seeing him?"  Dani picked a cherry tomato out of her
salad and placed it in mine.  She knew I liked them a lot. 

"I could do worse."

"You like that ponytail, don't you," she giggled.

"It's more than that, Dani."

"How so?"

"He's smart, he's funny..."

"He makes a lot of money," Dani laughed, finishing my sentence.  It was a
rhyme we made up once when we were running one afternoon, dishing about
the men we were seeing at the time while we pounded sand on the beach in
our sneakers and sweats.  I don't remember the rest of the lines we made
up, except for the one that ended "he really fills my cunny".  Danielle
hated that word; it reminded her of an aunt of hers who'd bathe her when
she was a little girl growing up in Georgia, lye soap and rough
washcloths, a cast iron tub in the kitchen. 

"And Marie?" Dani asked.

"One day at a time," I said, biting into the cherry tomato.  "One day at a
time." 

Danielle left after lunch to meet a prospective client and show a
property.  I had a message waiting for me that my one appointment that
afternoon, a meeting with a retailer who wanted to expand into an adjacent
storefront, was postponed.  I considered leaving early, but a phone call
from Dr. Marc Coleman changed that.  I'd expected a call from him,
confirming our Friday night date.  There was an urgency in his voice,
though.  He wanted to come down to the office and discuss an important
matter, something he couldn't talk about over the phone.  Even though I
had nothing else on the docket that day, I told him I could squeeze him in
that afternoon at 2. 

I could tell Dr. Coleman was upset even before he said a word.  His face
was set in an expressionless mask, though his complexion was florid,
almost crimson.  By contrast, Marc gripped his briefcase so tightly his
knuckles were moon white.  I invited him to sit down on my couch and relax
while I went down the hall to fax something. 

Except I didn't have anything to fax.  Instead, I went down the hall to
the Old Man's office.  Ed wasn't there, nor was Darla at her desk, but it
didn't matter.  I knew where he kept his bottle of scotch. 

This is so Old School, I thought as I took the bottle and two shot glasses
back to my office.  Ed was the sort of salesman who'd never seal a deal
without a drink, the sort of man who'd chase away a hangover with a snort
from the bottle.  The bottle had another purpose, too: to weaken the
resolve of the recalcitrant client and to bring courage to the cold of
foot. 

Dr. Coleman didn't have to say anything for me to know that he was on the
verge of backing out of our deal, leaving the firm holding the bag on the
construction, leaving an unholy mess that would take our lawyers years to
sort out.  It was in his eyes.  When I returned to my office, Marc had his
briefcase open next to him, papers on his lap, riffling through them
frantically. 

"Here," I said, pouring a shot and handing it to him.  I half expected him
to decline, but he knocked it back in one gulp.  As I poured him another
-- and one for myself -- he began to explain the predicament. 

"Zoe, we've got a problem," he said, sipping his second shot.

"Tell me."

"Look," Marc said, handing over a sheaf of papers.  As I scanned through
them, he gave me the executive summary. 

"The city says the property's not zoned for a lab.  They've issued a stop
work order." 

"That's bullshit," I said.  "We did all the paperwork.  We got approvals
from the Zoning Board.  They can't pull this at the last minute." 

"But they did."

"Like hell."  I shuffled through the sheaf of forms and addenda until I
found a signature and then I called Hazel. 

"It's Zoe," I said into the phone.  "Can you get me a number for Arthur
Niedermayer at Inspectional Services?  Should be in the City Hall
listings." 

"Want me to put in a call?" she asked.

"Better yet, see if you can get me an appointment this afternoon, ASAP."

"Will do," she said before hanging up.

"You're going down there?" Marc said.

"Of course," I said, taking a sip of my shot and downing the rest.  "This
is complete and utter bullshit."  I wanted to say more, but the phone
rang. 

"I've got you in at 3:30," Hazel said.

"Thanks."

"He didn't want to set up an appointment, but when I said it was you..."

"Really?"

"He said he's looking forward to it," Hazel said.  "He sounds like a horny
old goat." 

"Great," I said.  "Thanks again."

"We're in," I said to Marc.  For the first time since he walked into the
office, he smiled. 

"You're going to go like that?" he asked.  I didn't know what he meant by
that for a moment.  Then I realized that he was referring to my nudity. 
After four days of going without clothes I'd gotten used to this state. 

"Do you think that's going to be a problem?"

"No, but..."  Dr. Coleman blushed slightly and shifted on the couch. 
"Isn't this going to be a...a distraction?" 

"That's what I'm hoping," I replied.  "Oh, one other thing.  How much cash
do you have on you?" 

"Um, maybe a hundred or so."

"We'll stop at the bank on the way," I said.  "Two grand should do it."

"Is that really necessary?"

"No, but I just want to cover all the bases," I said.  It wasn't unheard
of for a public servant in this town to accept a modest gratuity for
expediting certain matters. 

We took Marc's SUV over to City Hall, stopping at his bank on the way over
there.  Walking through the lobby, my heels clicking on the marble floor,
I heard gasps and hushed whispers: "It's her" and "That's the one!".  I
ignored them as we scanned the directory at the front desk for the
location of Mr. Niedermeyer's office.  Third floor, rear.  Rather than
wait for the elevator, we took the stairs.  Behind me, someone let out a
wolf whistle. 

Arthur Niedermeyer looked as if he lived at his desk.  A short, pudgy,
balding man in his sixties, he seemed to blend in with the institutional
beige paint on the walls and the nicotine-stained grey metal of his desk. 
He hesitated before standing up from his swivel chair, just long enough
for his bloodshot eyes to travel from my knees to my neck and back down to
my breasts.  Shaking Dr. Coleman's hand without pulling his eyes from my
nipples, he extended his hand to me, giving me a long, damp handshake. 

"Pleasure to meet you," Niedermeyer said.  "I saw you on the news
yesterday." 

"You and half the planet," I said, taking a seat in one of the ratty
armchairs across from his desk. 

"The cameras don't do you justice."  Niedermeyer licked his lips in a
manner reminiscent of certain species of reptiles. 

"Thanks.  Let's dispense with the small talk, shall we?"

"I'm at your disposal, young lady."

"We need to do something about this," I said, taking the stop work order
from Marc Coleman and sliding it across Niedermeyer's desk.  He picked it
up and thumbed through the pages, his eyes scanning across the paper and
resting on my breasts at the end of each line. 

"Hrmph," Niedermeyer said, placing the order on his desk.  "I'm afraid
that nothing can be done until the next Zoning Board meeting." 

"And when is that?" Marc asked.

"Three weeks."

"Three weeks?  We're already behind schedule and we've got a deadline..."

"Marc," I said, placing my hand on his arm.  "Relax.  Let me take care of
this."  He let out a deep breath and sat back in his seat. 

"Mr. Niedermeyer," I said, leaning forward and looking him in the eye.

"Call me Arthur, dear."  He licked his lips again and I felt a nervous
twinge in the pit of my stomach. 

"Arthur, dear," I cooed.  "Isn't there some way we could get the ball
rolling without having to add to the board's busy agenda?" 

"Well," he said, clasping his hands together and squeezing them.  "I'd
love to help you in this matter.  Really, I would.  But you see, my hands
are tied."  To emphasize this point, he held his wrists together as if
they were bound. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, getting up from the chair and slowly
sidling over to his side of the desk.  "Because I really, really want to
clear up this matter and I'd be very appreciative to anyone who could help
us out."  I sat down on the edge of Arthur's desk, my legs slightly
spread.  Niedermeyer's eyes were glued to my sex and a sheen of
perspiration began to show on his forehead. 

"Appreciative..." he croaked.

"Yes, appreciative," I said.

"Well..."  He was breathing heavily even before I pushed his chair back
from his desk and sank to my knees.  "I don't know..." 

"Are you sure about that?" I asked him as I unbuckled his belt and
unbuttoned his trousers. 

"I...I can't...it's not..."  As I lowered his zipper and reached inside
his boxers for his stiff, stubby cock, Niedermeyer loosened his tie and
pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, mopping his sweaty brow. 

"I'm sure you could find a way around this problem," I cooed, sliding his
foreskin back and forth over his shaft.  "Surely a man like you must know
all the loopholes..."  I leaned forward and gave the bulbous purple head
of his cock a soft swipe with my tongue. 

"Oh, gawd," he gasped.  "Oh, gawd."

"Think, Arthur," I whispered before engulfing his penis with my mouth and
swirling my tongue over his glans. 

"I'm trying, I'm trying."

"Think harder."  I kissed the tip of his cock and sucked him into my mouth
again, reaching further into his shorts for his balls, gently squeezing
them as I fellated him. 

"I...I...I think...I think...I know!"  Arthur's cock began to twitch in my
mouth, throbbing almost as fast as his breathing.  "I know...a way...we
could..."  Before he could finish his sentence, he erupted in my mouth,
spurting his thick seed against the back of my throat.  It wasn't entirely
unexpected, but the amount and viscosity took me by surprise.  I wondered
if Arthur Niedermeyer had been building up semen for decades, whether
sperm cells that had been swimming around in his balls since the
Eisenhower Administration were now keeping company with the salad I'd had
for lunch. 

"Gawd..." he murmured, leaning back in his swivel chair.  I let his cock
soften in my mouth before releasing it and taking the handkerchief from
his hand.  Wiping off the tip of his penis, I gently folded it back into
his shorts, making sure not to leave any telltale stains for Mrs.
Niedermeyer to notice. 

"So, we're good?" I asked him.

"Gawd, yeah," Niedermeyer said as he fastened his trousers.  "I'll rescind
the stop work order."  He was about to wipe his forehead with the
handkerchief but stopped short when he realized that it was damp with his
seed.  Reaching into one of his desk drawers, he pulled out a pre-printed
form, filled it out, signed it, and stamped it.  Marc looked it over and
smiled, folding it and placing it in his briefcase. 

"A pleasure doing business with you, Arthur," I said, extending my hand
for another damp handshake. 

"The pleasure's mine," he said.  Marc and I left the office and headed
back down to the lobby. 

"Zoe, I don't know how to thank you," Marc said as we got into his car. 
"Is there anything, anything at all I can do for you?" 

"I'll think of something," I said.  I reached for the bottle of spring
water sitting in the center console of his SUV and took a big gulp, trying
to wash down the taste of Arthur Niedermeyer's cum.  It lingered in the
back of my throat like mucilage. 

"Really, I owe you," Marc said as he wheeled out of the parking lot.  "If
you didn't get that order lifted I might have had to cancel weeks of
appointments.  I could have lost my practice." 

"It wouldn't have come to that," I said.

"It would have cost me thousands at the very least."

"Well, we're back on track."

"Zoe," Marc said.  "Who's your GYN?"

"Wanda Lishinsky"

"I know her.  She's good."

"Yes, she is."

"It's not my habit to poach another doctor's patient, but I'd be willing
to give you free exams for life." 

"Marc, you don't have to."

"It'd be the least I could do," he said.

"Thanks," I said.  "I'll consider it."  I liked Dr. Lishinsky; she had a
relaxed manner that put me at ease during visits to her office.  Marc's
offer was tempting, though, but I felt a certain loyalty to Wanda. 

There was something Marc could do for me.  Although sucking Niedermeyer's
cock was about as sexy as fellating a lizard, it had left me with that
empty, horny feeling, a feeling that had been building since that morning,
when I watched Roger and Marie make love in my bed.  I'd been too sore
from the night before to take care of myself, but now that soreness was
gone, replaced by a stronger feeling. 

"Pull into here, Marc," I said as we passed an office park.  Marc stopped
short and turned into the parking lot. 

This was Westgate, a joint venture between our company and BankWest, still
under construction though close to completion.  It was after four and the
crews had already left for the day, leaving the site deserted except for a
lone security guard in one of the trailers.  I directed Marc around one of
the buildings, to a loading dock hidden from the street. 

"What are we doing here?" Marc asked.

"Does the back seat fold down?"

"Yes," he replied.  It took a second for it to sink in and then he
realized what was going on, a smile crossing his face as he shut off the
engine and climbed out of the driver's seat.  Opening the rear door of his
SUV, Marc unlatched the rear seat and folded it over, pushing a carton
filled with file folders out of the way, clearing enough room for two
people.  After he climbed in and pulled the rear door closed, I crawled
over the back of the seat and joined him.  Despite the size of the SUV, it
was pretty cramped back there.  We ended up sitting cross-legged, our
thighs pressed together, facing each other. 

"Like being in high school again," Marc said as he took off his suit
jacket and threw it into the front seat. 

"I know."  I loosened his tie for him and undid the top button of his
shirt. 

That's all we had to say.  Marc knew what I wanted.  He leaned forward,
the scent of his after shave preceding him, tilting his head slightly as
his lips found mine.  As we kissed, he placed his hands on my waist.  Soft
hands, gentle hands, tracing the path of my spine, one moving up to the
nape of my neck, the other down to my tailbone, pressing against it,
rubbing it as if it was a clitoris.  I felt a rush of sensation as we
kissed, making me draw a sharp breath, making goosebumps rise on my flesh. 

"Wow," I gasped.  "What was that?"

"Nerve endings," Marc whispered, kissing my neck.  "On the coccyx."  A
kiss on the collar bone, on the solar plexus.  "Through the pelvic
girdle."  A kiss and another kiss, one on each breast.  "Some surprising
connections."  His hand on my belly, gently caressing me.  As he took a
nipple in his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth, I felt him rub my
tailbone again, a slow circular motion that sent another delightful chill
through my core.  I leaned back against the front seat and closed my eyes,
surrendering myself to Marc's expert touch. 

"Scoot down for me, Zoe," Marc said.  He handed me a folded army blanket,
a makeshift pillow for my head. 

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only about a dozen a day," he laughed.  Instead of the stirrups of a
gynecological examination table, I placed my feet on the wheel wells of
his SUV, two vinyl-covered humps that rose from the carpeted floor.  Marc
curled up between my legs, his eyes fixed on my exposed sex. 

"Is something wrong?" I asked him.

"No, no," he replied.  "You're perfect."  Marc smiled, planting a kiss on
the inside of my knee, followed by a trail of kisses down my thigh.  I
felt his warm breath on my cleft, his hands slipping under my bottom,
lifting me off of the carpeted floor, bringing my flower to his lips.  He
placed a tender kiss on my vulva, parting my labia with his tongue, taking
a tentative taste of my nectar. 

As Marc's probing tongue found my clitoris, I reached for the shoulder
belts that hung from the ceiling of the SUV, hanging on to them like a
straphanger on a subway train who expected a bumpy ride.  I closed my eyes
again as Marc's tongue swirled around my pearl, up, down, up, down,
around, around, over.  Up, down, up, down, around, around, over. 

The soreness I'd felt that morning was gone, replaced by a longing, a
need, a craving for his touch.  Marie, Roger, even Niedermayer's stubby
cock, all forgotten in this moment of pure sensation, pure delight.  Marc
serviced me with an expertise, a virtuosity, a skill I'd never experienced
before.  By the time Marc had started lashing my button with his tongue,
having abandoned his up-down-around riff, I had wrapped the shoulder belts
around my wrists and was straining against them, writhing in his grasp. 
Had he not cupped my bottom in his strong, soft hands, I'd have ended up
with a carpet-burned butt. 

"Oh...Marc...Marc...yes...like that...yes..."  He was relentless, licking
and sucking my sex, prodding and pushing me over the edge.  I let out a
scream that must have been audible downtown, a cry of pleasure that would
have scared the birds out of the trees had we not been inside a
well-soundproofed truck.  Still, Marc kept it up until I couldn't take it
anymore, until I felt myself start to get numb down there from an overload
of pleasure.  A whole day of pent-up sexual tension that started that
morning in bed with Roger and Marie flooded out of me, released by Marc's
expert tongue.  I unwrapped my wrists from my restraints and sat up,
gently pushing Marc away from my sex.  He smiled, a moist smile, his lips
wet with my juices, the smile of a lover, the smile of a doctor who had
good news to give to a patient. 

"Don't tell me you learned that in med school," I said as I sat up and
leaned against the back of the front seats. 

"Pre-med, actually," he chuckled.  

"I'm glad you're not a proctologist."

"I can give you a referral if you'd like."

We shared another kiss, one flavored with my nectar.  I wondered if he
could taste Arthur Niedermeyer's thick spunk on my tongue. 

"Lay back," I whispered.  I'd felt his erection straining against his
trousers as we kissed. 

"Zoe, you don't..."

"I do."

"That's all the argument you're going to get from me," Marc chuckled.  We
traded places, Marc leaning back against the seats while I scooted down
towards the tailgate, curling up between his legs.  I leaned over and
kissed him as he fumbled with his belt and zipper, pushing his trousers
down over his thighs.  As he pulled his shirt tails up, I reached into his
boxers, fishing out his hardness. 

Even without looking, I could tell that Marc was different down there.  It
wasn't until we broke off our kiss and I looked down that I exactly how
different.  It wasn't so much that he was big, which he was.  It was the
form, the shape, the texture of his penis that made it different, unique. 
I sat back on my heels and examined Marc's tool closely.  A thick shaft
covered in prominent veins emerged from a dense thatch of pubic hair,
topped by a flared glans with a pebbly ridge of flesh along the rim.  Marc
was circumcised, which made his cockhead appear even larger than it was. 
For a moment I wondered if this was an illusion, that Marc's cock just
looked big compared with Niedermeyer's pudgy tool.  But it wasn't an
illusion.  Marc had a magnificent tool, an instrument of pleasure. 
Someone should cast this in plaster and make a dildo, I thought. 

"Something wrong?" Marc asked, looking concerned.

"You're a big boy," I said.

"Too big?"

"Just right," I replied.  There was a pearl of precum on Marc's glans,
reflecting the greenish light that filtered through the tinted windows of
the SUV.  I extended my tongue and licked it; a thin, sticky string
connected my lips to his cock.  It broke when I opened my mouth and
engulfed his hardness, sinking my lips down his veiny shaft.  He sighed
and ran his fingers through my hair as I began to slowly suck him. 

Sucking Niedermeyer's cock had been business.  This was pleasure.  I
traced the thick ridge of muscle that ran along the underside of his shaft
with my tongue, taking as much of his hardness into my mouth as I could. 
Then I slowly backed off, releasing him, swirling my tongue over his
flared glans before engulfing him again.  I could feel Marc's thighs
against my arms, tensing and relaxing as I sucked him, in time with his
breathing.  As I bathed his shaft with my tongue, clamping my lips around
the girth of his flesh, he let out a soft moan, a whisper of pleasure. 

"Close," he gasped.  "I'm getting close."

"Mmmph," I replied, sucking him faster, trying to give him his release.  I
supposed he was letting me know out of courtesy, just in case I wasn't the
type to swallow a man's semen.  What I didn't realize was that he was
warning me for a reason.  As I circled the base of his cock with my
fingers, my head bobbing up and down in his lap, I felt him begin to
twitch between my lips, his glans swelling, flaring like a cobra's hood. 
Suddenly, he grunted, he erupted, and a veritable geyser of sperm began to
shoot from his tool, filling my mouth with spurt after spurt of cum, hot,
thick, cum.  I swallowed once, twice, and still he kept shooting. 

I looked up at Marc and he smiled down at me, gently caressing my bulging
cheek as the gusher of spunk began to wane.  He was still hard when I
released him from my mouth.  For a brief moment I wondered how he'd feel
inside me, filling me, that triceratops glans pressing against the top
wall of my passage, that sensitive spot. 

"Sorry," Marc whispered.  "I should have warned you."

"You did, sort of."  I moved up from between his legs and laid down next
to him.  Marc slid his arm around my waist, drew me closer, and we kissed,
sharing the taste of his seed. 

"Can I see you tonight?" Marc asked.

"I'd love to, but..."

"What?"

"I have a prior engagement."

"A date?"

"No, a dinner party," I said.  "Besides, we're still going out tomorrow
night, right?" 

"Of course," he said, pulling me on top of him.  His erection had begun to
subside, but it was still big, thick, engorged with blood, pressing
against my still-moist nether lips.  I wished we had more time. 

"I wish we had more time," Marc said.

"You read my mind."

"I didn't have to," he said, circling my pebbly nipple with his finger. 
Though he'd satisfied me, quenched my pent-up desire with his lips and
tongue, I wanted more.  I wanted to feel his magnificent cock inside me. 

"I have to get back to the office," I said.

"Me, too."  We shared another kiss and then I rolled off of him and
climbed into the front seat, daubing my moist cleft with a tissue while
Marc rearranged his clothes.  He slipped out through the back door and put
the rear seat back up before sliding behind the wheel and starting the
engine. 

We were back at my building a few minutes later, driving into the basement
parking garage so I wouldn't have to walk in through the lobby.  The
security guards had already seen me naked, but I knew I looked like I'd
just gotten laid.  My hair was a mess, my face was still flushed, and a
spritz of perfume wouldn't hide the fact that I needed a shower. 

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Marc asked after we shared a last kiss.

"Pick me up at seven," I replied.  I wrote my home address and number on
the back of a business card and gave it to him. 

"See you then, Zoe," he said as I stepped out of his SUV.

"I'm looking forward to it."  I blew him a kiss and headed for the
elevator.  On the way up I straightened myself as best as I could, using
the polished metal door to see my reflection as I combed my hair with my
fingers. 

Marie was talking with Hazel as I stepped off of the elevator.  Their
conversation stopped as I came over to check for phone calls.  As Hazel
handed over a couple of message slips, Marie looked me up and down, biting
her lower lip.  I hadn't seen her since we left my apartment that morning.
As per the Program, she was wearing nothing but a bra, panties, and
heels.  Navy blue satin today, setting off her creamy complexion, very
fetching. 

I thanked Hazel and headed back to my office.  Ed's bottle and the shot
glasses were still on my desk.  Marie knocked on my door a minute later. 

"Where'd you go?" she asked me.

"I had to take care of something at City Hall," I said, pouring a shot of
scotch for myself.  "Drink?" 

"No thanks," Marie asked.

"Something bothering you?"  I sat behind my desk and took a sip, washing
the taste of two men's semen from my mouth. 

"You look...you look like you..."  Marie looked around and closed my
office door before continuing.  "You look like you just got laid or
something." 

"Something like that," I said.  "You sure you don't want a drink?"

"Maybe I should," she said.  I poured her a shot and slid it across the
desk.  Marie sat down and took a big gulp, nearly downing the whole thing. 

"You're upset," I said.

"No, I'm not."

"Marie, I can tell..."

"Look, Zoe.  It's not like we're in a relationship or anything..."

"We're not?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't Marie."

"Zoe..."

"You're going to have to tell me, Marie.  I'm not going to sit here and
try and read your mind." 

As soon as I said that I regretted it.  I knew full well what Marie meant.
I knew what she was feeling.  I could read her mind, at least as well as
I could without actually being telepathic.  I just wanted to hear her say
the words, even if it meant torturing her like this. 

"I'm sorry, Marie."  I stood up and went to where she was sitting, taking
her hand and helping her to her feet.  She was on the verge of tears, her
eyes misty, her lower lip trembling.  I took her in my arms and kissed her
on the lips, softly, gently. 

"I don't own you, Zoe," she whispered.  "I don't know why I'm so jealous."

"It's okay.  I understand."

"You were with Coleman today, weren't you."

"Yes," I admitted.  "It's a long story, Marie."

"You don't have to tell me."

"I won't then.  But there's something I want to tell you."

"What?"

"Come," I said, "Sit with me."  I led Marie to the couch, sat with her,
and took her hands in mine. 

"I shed more than just my clothes this week," I told her.  "I shed my
inhibitions, my fears, my old self.  Had it not been for this Program
thing, we'd have never gotten together.  You even admitted that seeing me
like this gave you the courage to approach me, right?" 

"Right," Marie said.

"Well, it gave me the courage to accept.  I probably would have brushed
you off otherwise." 

"Oh."

"But there's more to it than that," I said.  "Last night, the three of us,
that was a first for me." 

"Me, too," Marie said.

"Yesterday, on the street with that crowd.  The old me couldn't have done
that.  Same with Cal and the Old Man, the way I've been dealing with them
the past few days, standing up to them, holding my ground." 

"And then some," Marie added.  "Word has it that you're taking over when
the Old Man leaves." 

"News travels fast."

"It does," she said.  "I understand now, Zoe.  You're finding yourself."

"Exactly."

"I hope there's room in your new life for me."

"There will be, Marie."  I took her in my arms, feeling her soft skin
against mine.  Our lips brushed together, softly at first, then with
passion.  I'd been kissed a lot that day, but this was the best one of
all.  Only a knock on the door could tear us apart.  We quickly disengaged
and Marie stood up. 

It was Ed, fresh from the golf course, still wearing those funny shoes
with the tassels on the upper. 

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he said.

"No, not at all," I said.  "I had to borrow your bottle earlier."

"Ah, yes.  I see.  Mind if I sit down for a while?"

"It's your company, Ed," I said.

"I'll see you later, Zoe," Marie said, edging towards the door.  She never
really seemed at ease when the Old Man was around. 

"See you at seven," I said as Ed took a seat across from my desk.  He took
the bottle and uncorked it, pouring a shot and handing it to me. 

"Thanks," I said.  He poured another for himself and downed it in one
quick gulp.  Then he poured one more. 

"Having dinner with Marie?" he asked.

"We're going to a dinner party later."

"I see."

"Marc Coleman came in this afternoon.  He was in pretty bad shape so I had
to calm him down a bit." 

"Ah, yes," Ed said, taking a sip of his scotch.  "A bit of liquid courage.
 Everything okay now?" 

"The city sent him a stop work order," I said, "but we straightened it
out." 

"Good, good."

"Everything okay Ed?"

"I'm fine.  Why do you ask?"

"No reason.  You just seem a bit...strange."

"Strange?"  Ed let out a chuckle.  "I never felt better.  I'm relaxed, no
stress, no stomach problems.  Shot a 75 today." 

"That must be it, Ed.  I've never seen you relaxed."

"Took most of the day off," he said.  "I wanted to get a taste of what
retirement would be like." 

"And?"

"I like it," he laughed.  "Tomorrow I'm going fishing."

"That's great," I said.  "I'm happy for you."

"Got plans for the weekend?"

"Nothing special," I said.  "Shopping, maybe.  Probably play tennis with
Danielle." 

"I'm having a little get-together at the beach house on Saturday," Ed
said, draining the rest of his shot and pouring another.  "Just a few
friends, some people from the office.  I'd like you to be there." 

"Can I wear clothes or do I have to go naked?"

"Heh, you can wear clothes, Zoe.  Casual, of course."

"Thanks, Ed.  I'll be there."

"Great," he said, uncorking the bottle again.  "Another?"

"No thanks."

"See you Saturday, then."  Ed picked up his bottle and his shot glass and
left, heading back towards his office. 

By now it was nearly five, so I finished my drink and began to get
dressed.  I was hooking my bra when Dani knocked on my door. 

"Strap's twisted," she said.

"It's okay," I said, slipping on my blouse.  "I'm changing as soon as I
get home." 

"Another date?"

"Dinner party, some people in my building."

"Going to the Old Man's on Saturday?"

"I guess," I said.  "He made it pretty clear that he wanted me there."

"Can I get a ride with you?  My car's going to be in the shop all
weekend." 

"Sure, not a problem.  Tennis in the morning?"

"Sounds like a plan," she said.  "Catch you tomorrow."

As much as I wanted to tell Dani about my day, I knew that it would take
more time than I had at the moment.  I'd tell her tomorrow, if only to see
the look on her face when she found out that I'd blown some codger at City
Hall just to get a stop work order rescinded.  Oral sex with Dr. Coleman
in the back of his SUV seemed almost tame by comparison. 

As I drove home, I began to reflect on what I'd said to Marie.  I hadn't
thought about the possibility that the Program had changed me until I
spoke those words to her.  And the more I thought about it, the more these
words rang true. 

A couple of things bothered me, though.  Was my nakedness really
responsible for this change in my personality?  Would this had happened
even if Ed hadn't brought in that damned consultant and his Program?  And
what about the changes in my sexuality?  Already that day I'd had some
sort of sexual contact with four different people and it wasn't even
dinner time yet.  So much for my three date rule.  

One of those people was a woman, someone who was close to falling in love
with me.  What's more, I knew in my heart that it was only a matter of
time before I fell in love with her, too.  That had never happened to me,
ever.  I had been downright boy-crazy even before I hit my teen years.  No
experimentation, no same-sex crushes, no fooling around with other girls
my age, despite my "alternative" childhood.  I'd been brought up in a
string of communes where that sort of thing wasn't merely tolerated, it
was almost encouraged as a means of finding one's self.  Gay and bisexual
people were part of the community, nothing special, not even noteworthy. 

But while I had a special place in my heart for Marie, I had a burning
desire for that wonderful piece of meat between Marc Coleman's legs. 
Damn, how I regretted not doing it with him in his SUV that day.  Sure,
he'd eaten me like a champ, but I longed to feel him on top of me, inside
me. 

As I rode upstairs in the elevator to my apartment, I had a thought that
made me chuckle out loud: would that I could be Dr. Frankenstein and
assemble my perfect lover, with Roger's brain, Marie's heart, and Marc's
magnificent cock.  Maybe I could even make a housekeeper out of the spare
parts. 

I'd just finished getting dressed when the intercom buzzed.  It was the
doorman, announcing Roger's arrival.  I checked myself in the mirror,
straightened the hem of my dress, a strappy black cocktail sheath, and
went to the door just as Roger was about to knock.  He had a bouquet of
flowers and a bottle of wine. 

"I thought we'd bring the wine up to your neighbors," he said as he handed
me the flowers.  "What were their names again?" 

"Alice and Gabe," I replied.  "Thanks, Rog.  These are lovely."  I went
into the kitchen to look for a something in which I could put the flowers.
I found an old wine carafe gathering dust in one of the cabinets. 

"You look great tonight," he said, coming up behind me as I rinsed out the
carafe.  He brushed my hair away from my neck and kissed me there. 

"Thank you.  Hey, where were you today?  I hardly saw you after we got
into the office." 

"There was a dog 'n' pony show down at the Radisson," he said.  "Big
Blue." 

"Big Blue?"

"IBM," Roger said.  "Me and Danny went down there and played buzzword
bingo." 

"Buzzword bingo?" I asked as I filled the carafe with water and added an
aspirin to keep the flowers from wilting too soon. 

"Yeah, it's a game we play at these presentations.  We print up some cards
with words and phrases like 'leverage' and 'enterprise-ready'  and
'paradigm shift'.  Winner gets free drinks afterwards." 

"That actually sounds like fun," I said, placing the bouquet in the
carafe.  I brought it out to my dining room and set it on the table. 
"Drink?" 

"Beer's fine."

"Make yourself at home," I said.  "I'll bring it out to you."

I went back to the kitchen and got a beer for Roger, pouring a glass of
white wine for myself, bringing them out to the living room where Roger
was seated.  I placed his beer on the coffee table and sat down on the
couch next to him. 

"That's a nice suit," I said.  Charcoal grey, nicely tailored; he wore it
with a black shirt open at the collar. 

"Thanks," he said.  "I like your dress."

"Oh, this old thing?"

"Heh, I'd love to take you to the next RenFair.  You'd be the fairest
maiden in all the realm." 

"I don't know, Rog.  I'm really not a medieval sort of girl."

"Nah, you'd look great in a tight bodice."  Just as Roger started to lean
in for a kiss, the intercom rang.  It was the doorman again; Marie was on
her way up in the elevator. 

She was dressed for sex.  That's the only way I could describe what she
was wearing: black leather skirt, tight knit blouse with exposed
shoulders, shiny black stiletto heels, blood red lip gloss.  I looked at
her standing in the doorway and felt her desire. 

"Aren't you going to ask me in?" Marie asked.

"Of course, of course," I said.

"Damn," Roger said, standing up from the couch.  "Looking good, Marie."

"You too, Rog."

"Want a drink before we go upstairs?" I asked her.

"Sure," she replied.  "What are you having?"

"White wine."

"That's fine, thanks."

I went into the kitchen and poured a glass for her, and when I returned to
the living room, she and Roger were sitting together on the couch,
laughing about something.  As I sat down next to Marie, she opened her
black beaded clutch and pulled out a cigarette pack.  Inside it were five
joints. 

"You guys smoke?" she asked.

"Sure," Roger said.

"I haven't in a while," I said.  "My sister's a real pothead, though."

"Is that her in that picture?" Roger asked, pointing to a small frame on
one of my bookcases, a photo taken a couple of years ago, when Alix's hair
was close to her natural shade of red, rather than the day-glo colors she
usually preferred. 

"Yes, that's Alix, my baby sister."

"She's cute," Marie said as she lit the joint with a small gold lighter.

"Reminds me of Trina from the office," Roger added.

"I know, she does," I said.  Marie took a hit off of the joint and passed
it to me.  I took a small puff and handed it off to Roger. 

There was a definite tension between the three of us, but after a joint
and another round of drinks, it had burned off like a morning fog.  Marie
had closed a deal that day with a small chain of Midwestern restaurants
that was expanding to the West Coast, so we drank to her success.  I'd
managed to get the stop order on Marc Coleman's clinic lifted -- though I
was somewhat vague about my methods -- so we had another reason to
celebrate. 

It was half-past eight when we made our way up one flight of stairs to the
dinner party at the Coopers.  As I rang the doorbell, I could hear
laughter, conversation, and music filtering through the door.  A moment
later it opened. 

"Come in, come in," Alice said.  She wore a flirty red chiffon dress,
short, sheer, sexy.  It swirled around her long legs as she stepped aside
to let us in. 

"You remember Marie and Roger from this morning," I said.

"Of course," she replied, giving Marie a half-embrace and an air kiss. 
She repeated it with me and shifted her wine glass to her left hand to
give Roger a limp handshake.  "Gabe's in the kitchen mixing drinks. 
You've got to try his peach martinis." 

"I'll stick with beer, thanks," Roger said.

I looked around the place.  There were about a dozen or so people here, a
few I recognized from the building.  Since their apartment was directly
over mine, the floor plan was identical.  Only the furnishings were
different, living room couch in a different place, larger dining room set,
water bed in the bedroom.  That last item was technically a violation of
the condo association's by-laws, but I wasn't one to rat them out, not
unless I woke one morning to a leaking ceiling.  I walked into the kitchen
to get a drink. 

"Zoe, glad you could make it," Gabe said, taking my hand.  "Martini?"

"Sure, I'd love one."  I was already pretty tipsy from the wine, the
joint, and the scotch I'd drank at the office, but I knew I'd be fine as
long as I nursed my drink and took it easy.  Gabe mixed a pretty good
drink and I told him so. 

"Thanks," he said, mixing another batch.  "I worked my way through law
school by tending bar." 

"Try this," I said to Marie, who joined me in the kitchen.

"Mmmmmm!" she said, taking a sip.  "That's yummy."

"Honey," Alice said, poking her head into the kitchen.  "Could you help me
with the chafing dishes?" 

"Sure," he replied, following her into the dining room.  Marie and I took
our martinis out of the kitchen to mingle in the living room. 

Apparently, my reputation preceded me.  Since I'd been on the news the day
before, I hardly needed to introduce myself.  Just about everyone there
had seen me on the evening news, naked as a newborn, albeit a newborn with
a megaphone exhorting a crowd.  The upside was that most of the men
present looked me in the eyes when they spoke to me rather than talking to
my tits.  Of course, they'd already seen them on television. 

After our second round of martinis, Marie and I grabbed Roger and went out
to the balcony to smoke another joint.  He'd been talking to Vicky, a
woman from Gabe's law firm, and we invited her to join us.  As we watched
the moon rise over the hills, they continued their spirited discussion of
intellectual property law, pausing only to take the occasional hit off of
the joint. 

Dinner was a buffet-style feast, served from an array of chafing dishes
set up in the dining room.  By this time, another ten or so people had
come by, making the spacious apartment seem rather crowded.  Marie and I
staked out a spot on the couch, watching Roger chat up Vicky while we ate. 

"He's really come out of his shell," Marie said.

"Good for him," I replied.

"You're not jealous, are you?" she teased.

"Not in the least.  Ten dollars says he leaves with her."

"You're on," Marie said.  "Either way, I win."

"I'm sure you'd rather have me than the money."

"Well, duh," Marie said, taking another forkful of quiche.

Between the light lunch I'd had and the two joints, I was ravenously
hungry, making a second and then a third trip to the buffet.  I was tired,
too, but Alice had coffee brewing.  Two cups and a shot of anisette picked
me up nicely. 

I'd been talking to Sam, one of the tenants of our building, about some
mundane matter that was on the agenda at the last condo association
meeting, when Marie caught my eye.  I excused myself and followed her out
to the balcony.  Alice and Gabe were there, though Roger was nowhere to be
seen.  Marie lit one of the joints and passed it to Alice. 

"I thought I caught a whiff of this earlier," she said.  "Thanks."

"We haven't bought any for a while," Gabe said.  "I had a decent
connection but he's out of circulation for three to five years." 

"I get mine from my housekeeper," Marie said.

"Good stuff," Gabe said, taking a hit.  "Hope you can hang around for a
while.  We've got a special treat when the place clears out a bit." 

Since it was a weeknight, people didn't stay very long.  By eleven, there
were only a handful of people left.  Roger and Vicky had reappeared; her
hair was slightly mussed and he had a trace of lipstick on his face.  The
Parkers were there, too, owners of the penthouse apartment in our
building.  Gabe was pouring snifters of brandy when I happened to notice
the time. 

"Could I ask a favor?" I asked Alice.  "Would you mind if I watched the
news in the bedroom?  I gave an interview this morning and it's going to
be on soon." 

"Not at all," Alice said.  "We could watch it in here if you'd like."

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"Nonsense," Alice insisted.  "It's no trouble at all.  I'm sure we'd all
like to see it." 

I barely had time to protest when Alice picked up the remote from the
coffee table and silenced the CD player, picking up another remote and
turning on the plasma screen television. 

"What channel did you say?" she asked.

"Six," I replied.  She switched channels just in time to catch Trish
Peyton's lead-in to the interview.  As she spoke, footage of the protest
in front of the office appeared on the screen behind her. 

"I told you that was Zoe from our building," Missy Parker said, elbowing
her husband in the ribs.  "Blake didn't believe me." 

Blake didn't say anything.  He just stared at the censored image of me in
the television and grinned at me.  As the interview began, Gabe appeared
with a large silver tray.  He placed it on the coffee table and sat down
next to his wife, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small glass
vial filled with a fine white powder. 

The interview wasn't as bad as I thought.  Sure, forty-five minutes of
footage had been cut down to two, but there was nothing deceptive, nothing
misleading about the way it had been edited.  And my rah-rah hometown
boosterism about our city and its business climate had been left intact. 
Though the camera never strayed from my face, leaving the top of my
breasts in the frame, it was obvious that both Trish and I were nude.  The
only discordant note was the banter between Trish and the other anchor
after the interview, a lame joke about how I was willing to do anything to
make a sale.  Sure, that was pretty much true at this point, but that
didn't mean I wanted to hear it broadcast over the air. 

Alice clicked off the television and turned the CD player back on, by
which time Gabe had laid out long lines of cocaine on the silver tray.  I
was offered the first line, and as I leaned over the tray and placed the
sterling silver straw to my nose, Marie reached over and held my hair out
of the way.  I inhaled the line and washed it down with a sip of brandy,
passing the straw back to Gabe. 

"That was interesting," Alice said.

"Quite," Blake added.  "I'd have liked to hear more about this Program
thing." 

"There's not much to it," I said, feeling the rush as the coke entered my
bloodstream.  "One part psychobabble, two parts sadism." 

"Still, you can't argue with the results," Marie said.  "Zoe and I are
having our best weeks in a long time." 

"If all it takes is a little skin then there's something wrong with the
business," I said. 

"I think it's awful," Vicky said, wiping a ring of white powder from her
nose.  "Demeaning." 

"You'll get no argument from me," I said.  "One more day and I can't wait
for it to be over and done with." 

"Have you thought about retaining counsel?" Gabe asked.

"That was my first move," I said.  "But the boss met my price."

"Which was...?" Alice asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say," I laughed.

"Don't be so coy, Zoe," Marie said.  "Suffice to say, she doesn't come
cheap." 

"I'll say," Roger said.

"What do you know about it?" I asked him.

"Hey, I'm the admin," he replied.  "I know everything."

"Now, now, Rog," Marie said.  "Just because you can read everyone's e-mail
doesn't mean you should." 

"I'll try to remember that," he chuckled.

By the time we'd done a second round of lines, chasing them with Marie's
last joint, there was a definite sexual tension in the air.  At first I
thought it was the coke, but that thought was dispelled when I saw Alice
reach for Missy's bare thigh and slowly work her hand under her skirt.  I
shared a look with Marie just as Gabe reached over and began to unzip his
wife's cocktail dress. 

"Some party," Marie whispered.  I nodded in reply and then tilted my head
towards the door.  Marie shook her head. 

"I want to stay," she whispered into my ear.  "This might be interesting."

"You two have a conspiracy going?" Alice asked me.

"Nothing that would stand up in court," I replied.

"Unless it's Judge Bartlett's court," Gabe said, pouring another round of
brandies.  "He never met a motion he didn't like." 

"I wonder if he'd like this one," Alice said, standing up from the couch
and letting her dress fall from her shoulders.  She was naked underneath,
no bra, no panties, not even a single pubic hair on her mons.  Other than
her red Jimmy Choo heels, the only thing she wore was a small tattoo of a
rose on the small of her back.  As Alice stepped out of her dress, Missy
stood up and unbuttoned her blouse and unzipped her skirt.  Unlike Alice,
she wore underwear, though a minute later she'd shed them as well. 

Missy and Alice began to kiss and rub against each other, putting on a
show for their husbands.  For the rest of us, too, I supposed, but this
seemed like it was mostly intended for Gabe and Blake.  Marie took my hand
and squeezed it, and I could hear her try to stifle a giggle.  Roger and
Vicky, seated on the love seat next to the couch, watched raptly as their
hands roamed inside each other's clothes. 

The old Zoe might have feigned a headache or appendicitis and excused
herself, making a hasty exit.  But the old Zoe wasn't here.  The new Zoe
was present, with a head full of cocaine, pot, and alcohol, watching two
married women making out in front of their husbands, and getting very,
very horny. 

Alice was petite, with bleached blonde hair, and what may have been a
surgically augmented bustline.  I wasn't even sure if her tits were fake
until Missy lifted one to her lips, revealing the faint line of a scar
along the underside.  Missy was a few inches taller, a few inches broader
in the hips, and a cup size larger.  Her hair was a natural strawberry
blonde with reddish highlights, and her neatly trimmed pubes confirmed
this.  I watched intently as the two of them stood in front of the couch,
thighs intertwined, as they kissed and groped each other. 

"Lean forward," Marie whispered.  When I complied, I felt her reach for
the zipper of my dress and slowly draw it downward.  She slipped her hand
inside and caressed my back before slipping the thin shoulder straps down
over my arms.  I wasn't wearing a bra that night, a fact that made Marie
smile before she pressed her lips to mine.  As she planted a trail of
kisses lower, down my neck, my collar bone, ending at my nipple, I closed
my eyes and leaned my head back on the couch, savoring the feeling of her
soft lips on my skin. 

I ran my fingers through her hair as she suckled my breasts, listening to
the sound of kissing to my left and to my right.  I heard the clinking of
a belt buckle and a zipper going "vrrrp", followed by the rustle of
clothing.  Opening my eyes and looking to my left, I saw that Gabe had his
cock out of his pants and was slowly stroking it as he watched his wife
and Missy.  The two women disengaged and turned to face each other's
husbands, Alice kneeling in front of Blake and fishing his erection out of
his trousers, and Missy taking her place between Gabe's legs.  They shared
a look for a second before leaning in and fellating each other's husband. 

To my right, I could see Vicky sliding off of Roger's lap and kneeling
between his legs, her hands busy with his belt and trousers.  As her head
began to bob up and down in his lap, he leaned back and a goofy grin began
to spread across his face.  He caught my gaze and winked, and I was about
to say something when Marie released my nipple from her mouth and pressed
her lips to mine. 

"I feel left out," Marie whispered.

"Left out?"

"I've got nothing to suck," she said, tilting her head left and then
right.  She tugged at my dress, pulling it over my hips and down my legs. 
Then she did the same with my panties, leaving me naked on the couch,
wearing only my heels.  I kicked these off, too, and Marie lifted my legs
over her shoulders, leaning into my cleft and kissing my nether lips.  My
heart skipped with anticipation as her tongue probed my sex, teasing my
pearl from its hiding place. 

That first night, at her loft, she'd made love to me slowly, gently,
tenderly.  Tonight was different.  Marie went straight for my clit,
licking and sucking it, drawing it into her mouth and lightly grazing it
with her teeth.  She was relentless, passionate, hungry, holding me by the
hips as she drank from my chalice. 

I needed it hard that night.  The drugs and drinks had dulled my senses
and left me somewhat groggy.  Had Marie taken her time the way she had at
her loft, I might very well have fallen asleep.  But instead, she was
aggressive, drawing my pleasure out with her lips and tongue, making me
quiver and moan on the couch. 

I was close to my release, my eyes closed, my head leaned back against the
back of the couch, when I sensed movement to my left and then I felt a
hand on my breast.  It wasn't Marie's -- she was holding my hips.  I
opened my eyes.  It was Alice, on her hands and knees on the couch, Blake
behind her, poised to enter her. 

"I'm glad you could come tonight, Zoe," she said, gently squeezing my
breast as she kissed my cheek. 

"I am, too," I said, turning my head to meet her lips with my own.  As we
kissed, she let out a soft gasp, and I knew Blake was now inside her. 
After we kissed, I looked back down at Marie, wondering what she'd think
about that.  Her eyes were closed as she concentrated on my sex, her
tongue busily circling my clit as she spread my labia with her fingers. 

I looked around the room again, feeling a vague sense of deja vu as I
watched Vicky climb up into Roger's lap, reaching down to guide his
glistening cock inside her.  Alice's hair tickled my shoulders as Blake
began to pound her harder.  Behind them, Gabe had Missy's legs up over his
shoulders.  I couldn't see much with Blake and Alice in the way, but the
way Missy's legs rhythmically quivered left little to the imagination. 
Again, that nagging sense that I'd been here before gnawed at me.  I'd
never been involved in anything like this before, yet it seemed so
familiar. 

Or had I?

Marie had just slipped a finger inside my cleft when it dawned upon me, a
long-forgotten memory floating to the surface of my consciousness.  I had
been ten or eleven years old, living with my parents on a commune in New
Mexico.  It had been a Saturday night and I'd been sent to bed early, but
something woke me up.  As I peeked through the doorway I could see my
parents and another couple, naked on the floor by the fireplace.  My
mother was with the other man, my father with the other woman.  I was
wondering why I'd suppressed this memory when Marie's teeth, gently
nibbling my clit, brought me out of my reverie. 

She had two fingers inside me now, pressed against that sensitive spot as
she ravished my swollen pearl.  I felt my pleasure grow, amplified by the
frisson of a long-lost memory, a forgotten memory, a forbidden memory.  I
remembered now that I had touched myself that night after watching my
parents with that other couple, tentatively probing my slit while my
little sister slept in the bed next to me.  It had ended in a pleasant
little tingle, nothing like what I was feeling now. 

Now.  I opened my eyes and saw Marie looking up at me, and at that moment
she began ravishing my sex with her lips, tongue, and fingers.  Alice,
close to her own climax, was moaning in my ear as Blake pounded her from
behind.  To my right, Vicky sounded as if she was close to her own
release.  As my own pleasure flowed towards resolution, I added my own
note of harmony to this chorus of ecstacy. 

"Oh...oh...Ma...Marie...," I moaned as I began to come.  My words, calling
her name, only spurred her on to a greater effort, her teeth gently
grazing my pearl, a third finger inside me, sawing in and out.  I pinned
her shoulders between my thighs as I climaxed, my whole body shuddering as
a torrent of pleasure coursed through every vein, every nerve.  It seemed
as if every follicle of hair on my skin had its own mini-orgasm.  I wanted
to call out Marie's name again, but I was beyond words.  All I could say
was "UNGH!". 

Alice nearly deafened me when she came, a husky growl that climbed in
pitch until it was an almost bloodcurdling scream.  Beneath this
cacophony, I heard Blake begin to grunt, his hips speeding up until he
gave one last plunge into Alice's spasming sex.  Behind them, Gabe was
pumping away at Missy's snatch, her long, shapely legs swaying in the air
with each thrust, while to my right, Vicky was still bouncing up and down
on Roger's pole.  I caught a glimpse of her face in profile, eyes closed,
wet lips open in an ecstatic circle. 

Marie joined me on the couch, holding me as I caught my breath.  I could
feel the horniness radiating from her now-naked body: skin flushed,
nipples erect, her perfect breasts heaving with each breath.  We kissed,
my hand roaming lower on her body, straight for the center of her sex. 
Around us, I could hear bodies shifting, cigarettes being lit, lines of
coke being cut, a bottle of something being opened. 

"Let me do you...," I whispered to her.

"Mmmm..."

I sat up and straddled her at first, my sensitive nipples brushing against
her silky hair.  Slowly, I slid to the floor, lingering at her breasts for
a momentary suckle, gently biting them until Marie let out a gasp of
pleasure.  I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I kissed a trail down
Marie's belly.  As I sank to my knees in front of her, she scooted forward
on the couch to give me better access to her cleft. 

Like Marie, I didn't bother with teasing; no gentle labial nibbles, no
deceptive thigh kisses.  I went straight for the clit, and Marie rewarded
me with another gasp as I began to lick and suck her delicate pearl.  As I
lapped at her hungry sex, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye,
someone placing something on Marie's thigh.  Looking up, I saw a line of
white powder. 

"Do this," Alice said, offering me the silver straw, "before she starts
getting all quivery and shit."  I snorted up the line from Marie's creamy
skin and returned to her glistening slit.  I could hear Marie doing a line
from the mirror as I ravished her lovely cleft. 

It didn't take long to get Marie going.  I felt her thighs tense and
relax, her breathing grow ragged and uneven, her gasps becoming moans,
building to an aria of pleasure.  As her hips began to rock, I cupped her
bottom in my hands, drawing her closer as I lapped at her swollen pearl. 

I was concentrating so hard at pleasuring Marie that it took me a moment
to realize that someone was behind me, hot breath drawing closer to my
upturned bottom.  Then I felt a tongue between my cheeks, probing for my
nether hole, penetrating my most secret place.  Under normal
circumstances, I would have recoiled at such a nasty thing.  But these
weren't normal circumstances.  And that I didn't know who was licking me
back there made it naughtier, hotter. 

Marie was coming now, her fingers digging into my shoulders, and this
unknown person had a tongue in my ass and what felt like two fingers in my
pussy.  I kept sucking on Marie's clit until she pushed me away from her
sex and tugged at my shoulder, urging me to lay my head in her lap.  I
took this opportunity to look behind me: it was Vicky.  She flashed me a
sly grin and went back to licking my ass like a very, very friendly dog. 
I looked over at Alice, who was stroking Gabe's cock back to hardness, and
Missy, who was doing the same for Blake. 

"Would you like some of this, Zoe?" Alice asked me, giving her husband's
penis a gentle squeeze. 

"Urrrr...," was all I could say.  Vicky had her tongue half way up my ass
and her fingers had found that sensitive spot inside me.  Alice and Gabe
took that as "yes".  Before I could protest, I felt hands on me, gently
guiding me up from Marie's lap and over to where Gabe was sitting.  His
cock stood erect like a schooner's mast as I straddled his lap.  Another
set of hands guided him inside me.  I settled down slowly on his shaft and
closed my eyes as he filled me. 

There were hands all over me, squeezing my breasts, caressing my thighs,
probing my bottom, feeling around for my clit.  I turned my head and
opened my eyes and there was Marie, her lips brushing against mine.  As I
began to slowly move up and down on Gabe's hardness, she and I kissed, our
tongues meeting and melting into one. 

Suddenly, I felt something cold and slick being poured down the crack of
my ass, and a soft finger rubbing it into my bottom.  I knew what was
about to happen; part of me wanted to protest.  But I was in the moment,
abandoning myself to my pleasure, numbed by the drugs and booze.  The
finger was inside me, stretching my bottom, working the lubricant inside
me.  I broke off my kiss and looked back.  Blake was pouring lube on his
erection, poised to enter me back there.  

I could have said no, but I didn't want to.  I knew that this was my
entree into a new social circle: rich, beautiful, ambitious people. 
People who needed commercial real estate.  That's what I was thinking.  By
taking it up the ass from Blake, maybe I'd be the one his firm would call
when they needed a larger office suite.  By letting Gabe fill my cunt with
his spunk, my business card would make the rounds.  I was the new girl and
this was my initiation into the sorority. 

It didn't hurt nearly as much as I expected.  Blake slipped out a couple
of times while he tried to find the right angle, but eventually he got his
whole schlong inside me.  I was pinned between them, hardly able to move,
but it didn't matter.  Gabe was doing the thrusting beneath me, Blake
behind me, and I was a Zoe sandwich on white.  I felt dirty, porn star
dirty, but I didn't care. 

Marie and Alice were still all over me with their hands and lips.  I was
wondering where Vicky had gone, but then I saw her, leading Roger around
the back of the couch by his prick.  She guided him over to us, his hard
cock bobbing before him.  I only had to lean over a few inches to take him
in my mouth. 

I was filled with cock.  Gabe's cock felt really good inside me, hitting
all the right places, and I would have given anything to just fuck him and
him alone.  Blake's cock in my bottom felt huge, even though he was just
about average or so.  At least he was considerate enough to go slowly.  I
tried to give Roger a halfway decent blowjob, but I could hardly move
anything except my tongue.  He did most of the work anyway, rocking his
hips back and forth so his shaft glided over my lips.  I was wondering if
I could actually come from this when a lube-slickened finger found my
clit.  I couldn't turn my head to see who it belonged to, but the telltale
circular motion made me think it was Marie's. 

A pair of hands and lips found one of my breasts, teeth gently grazing my
nipples.  I began to relax and let myself go.  I'm just an inflatable doll
here, I thought, pierced by three hard cocks.  Let them find their
pleasure inside me.  I'll find mine by myself.  The slick finger worried
my clit faster, keeping time with the hard shafts inside me.  I felt my
pleasure begin to build, a kernel of fire growing in my loins. 

For a moment I could see myself, like an out-of-body experience, an
observer in the corner of the room.  Four pumping bodies writhing on the
couch, attended by two others.  Gabe's hips rising from the couch to
pierce my sex, Blake hunched over my back to ravish my bottom, Roger
rocking back and forth on his heels, using my mouth for his pleasure. 
Marie pinching my clit.  Alice suckling my breast. 

And then I was back inside myself, coming, coming hard, trying not to bite
Roger's cock.  I felt Blake grow harder inside me, a throbbing heartbeat
pumping my ass faster and faster.  He gripped my shoulders, thrusting
faster, and then I felt him come, warm jets deep inside me.  He kept
pushing into me even after he came, eventually slowing, slowing, stopping.
Pulling out.  Empty. 

I wanted him back inside me.  I wanted someone in there, even though this
meant I could meet Gabe's thrusts with my hips.  I was going to ask Roger
to take his place, but I felt something else, hands on my ass, a tongue in
my crack.  I released Roger from my mouth and looked back for a second,
seeing Missy behind me, her lips clamped to my bottom, sucking her
husband's seed from my hole.  Nasty. 

Roger didn't need to be asked.  He walked around the couch and waited
until Missy finished before taking Blake's place, slipping inside me.  I
leaned my head against the back of the couch and closed my eyes, pushing
back against the two cocks assaulting my tender holes.  Roger was more
aggressive than Blake, pumping my bottom with abandon, fanning the flame
inside me.  My pleasure began to rise, spreading out from my center,
possessing me, making me tremble with delight. 

I came hard, pinned between Roger and Gabe, squeezing their cocks with my
spasming holes.  Marie never let up on my clit, pinching it, making me
scream as I came again.  Gabe had grasped my breasts and was thrusting up
from under me, filling my hungry sex, his shaft feeling even bigger from
the pressure of Roger's cock in my bottom.  I felt him begin to throb,
tense, and spasm, and then felt a rush of warmth inside me as he filled me
with his hot seed. 

Roger was having the time of his life in my ass, fucking my bottom with a
corkscrew motion that nearly pulled me off of Gabe's still-hard cock.  I
clenched my bottom around his shaft, making myself tighter for him, and I
was rewarded with a muffled groan that came from deep within his throat. 
He gave one last hard thrust and I felt him let go, adding his sperm to
the mess that Blake left in my bottom.  Roger slowed, stopped, and pulled
out, his cock leaving a void inside me.  I rolled off of Gabe and
collapsed on the couch, and Marie was right there with a towel, stemming
the flow of spunk that oozed from inside my tender holes. 

"How was it?" Marie whispered in my ear.

"Omigod..." was all I could manage to say.  I felt limp, weak.  But it was
a good limp, a good weak.  And I had a hell of a story to tell Danielle
over lunch. 

The party wound down from there, despite another round of drinks and some
more coke.  Roger and his pretty new friend Vicky were the first to leave,
followed by Marie and I a few minutes later. 

"Stay with me tonight," I asked her as we left Gabe and Alice's apartment.

"I thought you'd never ask," she replied, giving my sore bottom a gentle
squeeze.  We managed to make it back to my apartment without stumbling
more than twice and, with barely enough energy left to get undressed,
collapsed in my bed.