“I’m not lazy,” I pout.
“I believe him,” Juliette says.
“Thank you.”
She smirks. “You probably want to volunteer for a threesome so we could explore our sexuality together or something.”
Wait. Is she angling for that? I hesitate. “If that’s what it takes…”
I’m honestly not in the mood, but maybe they need a man in the bedroom to feel comfortable going after each other or something. Maybe she wants me to sit in the cuck chair and applaud them or whatever. It’s weird, but it’s not like I have anything better to do. Why not start two people, even ones I don’t like, off to a great future relationship?
“You have awesome potential as a couple,” I say. “Just be open to it.”
“We don’t like women,” Juliette says.
“But you love each other,” I say. “Don’t you?”
“Yes,” Juliette says. “We love each other. We’re best friends.”
“It’s just different genitals. And you have the same parts. I know you’re not used to them, but trust me, sucking on nipples feels great. You might really enjoy eating each other out!”
“Excuse me?”
“You can write messages to each other with your tongue. And get vibrating strap-ons or whatever. I bet there’s a place here that delivers.”
“Oh my God,” Nora says.
For some reason, I seem to be explaining this poorly.
“And don’t forget you have the same equipment. It will probably come naturally to you. I mean, you know where the clitoris is.” I wink. “And you can scissor?—”
“Stop,” Juliette says.
Nora sips the rest of her cocktail before placing it on the coffee table with a loud plonk. The ice rattles. “You are the most disgusting man I’ve ever met.”
I sit there, stunned.
“Would you like us to talk about stuffing your face with your guy friend’s cock and having your friend eat your ass, then fuck you with a vibrating strap-on?” Juliette asks.
I’m speechless. For a moment I imagine it. I tighten my fists. “Well, my guy friend wouldn’t need to buy a strap-on!”
Juliette glares at me.
“He’s not worth it.” Nora extends a manicured hand to her friend, who takes it.
“You’re holding hands!” I say. “You’re comfortable with each other.”
Their eyes widen.
“Creep,” Juliette says.
They swish away, tottering on their red-backed heels.
I try to work the conversation through in my head. It didn’t get off to a great start, but I really hadn’t been imagining them doing things with each other.
I can’t imagine being repelled by someone I got along with because of what they had in their pants. Both men and women are attractive in their own way. Doesn’t everyone think that?
Enzo’s face flashes in my mind. I imagine his dark brown hair, longer now than in college, when he kept it short to get the cheapest haircut possible. I remember his large dark brown eyes, and the way I would sink into them whenever I was in his presence. I remember the way he used to fit against my body when we snuggled together to watch TV shows, the way I sometimes would get hard, sometimes imagined ourselves in X-rated scenes before reminding myself that we were just best friends.
