else so I could stay in the game. I had such a good hand, I was sure I would win.’
My concern for what he has lost deepens now. What could he have bet? Our savings to buy a house? Our summer vacation at the beach? His car? What?
‘What did you lose, Brad?’ I ask again, trying not to come undone before I know what he’s given away. ‘Tell me, baby.’
‘You. I lost you.’
‘You did what?’
‘I lost you last night at poker.’
* * *
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Sam said he’d keep playing if I offered something that would be worth it to him, and I asked what I had that he wanted, and he said the only thing he could think of was you. I thought he was kidding at first, and I think, in a way, he was, but then it turned out, once he had said it, he liked the idea. They all know about our Wet Wednesdays. I’m always bragging to the guys about how hot you get, how we fuck for hours, how you take whatever I give you. So I bet a Wednesday with you.’
‘A Wednesday. With Sam.’ I’m not asking, just trying to absorb the concept, make sure I understand what he’s said.
‘Yeah, Sam.’
Sam is our next-door neighbour. The guy who shares a bedroom wall with us and probably has heard an embarrassing total of cries, whimpers, thuds, shrieks, grunts and moans – not to mention headboard banging – from us over the years. Embarrassing to me, that is. I often blush if I run into him in the hallway on a Thursday, or some other day that follows a night of especially long and noisy sex. I’ve never heard much emanating from his bedroom – maybe he favours the silent types – and it’s true that, when he’s dating a woman, he seems to spend as much time at her place as his. Maybe, listening to us, he’s hyper-aware of how thin the walls are.
I apologised to him once, long ago, for the noise we’d made one particularly rowdy Saturday night, and he just grinned at me in reply. ‘Oh, trust me, Dana, no need to apologise.’ His hazel eyes twinkled at me. ‘I’m very happy living next door to you. And hearing you and Brad having fun with each other? That doesn’t bother me at all.’
I might have been creeped out if someone else had said that to me, but not when I heard those words coming from Sam. If anything, they turned me on. In addition to being a great guy and a friend, he’s tall and strong-looking and has dark blond hair that curls all over his head, and an even darker blond beard that he wears short. He is one beautiful man. I’ve often wondered why he doesn’t model for a living – that V-shaped torso, that chiselled jaw. I’ve fantasised more than once about sex with Sam, as Brad well knows.
‘So he’s coming here …?’
‘Next Wednesday, to collect. I told him it couldn’t be tonight because I needed time to tell you, and you needed time to get comfortable with the idea.
‘He asked what I would do if you wouldn’t go through with it, just in case I lost, and I told him that wouldn’t be a problem, that you and I have an understanding. That I make the decisions about what happens in the bedroom, and you go along with whatever I want. I told him that I knew you would let him fuck you if I wanted you to. I didn’t tell him you’d thought about it before.
‘And I was sure I was going to win, Dana. Really sure. You’re not going to make me welsh on him, are you?’
Well, this is one Wednesday-night surprise that surely stands out from all the others, even the Wednesday Brad first asked me to do anal. I don’t even know what to say. And then I think of something.
‘So, what are you going to be doing while Sam plays with your favourite toy? Are you playing too? Watching? Going out to a movie? What?’
‘Sam said he’d leave that up to us, that he’d go along with whatever we wanted, except he wasn’t interested in sex with me. Which I had no problem with.’
My guy has given away a Wet Wednesday with me, I remind myself, and I wonder if I should be mad about that, then choose not to be. Well, he hasn’t given me away, exactly; he’ll probably participate, knowing Brad. Maybe this will be like those other Wednesdays when we tried something new. I wonder what my own preference is, and I realise that I’d be happy with a threesome, with Brad as voyeur, or doing a one-on-one with Sam. They’d all be different experiences, and I’m interested in all of them, to be honest. But I’m nervous, too. This could be a big mistake.
‘Well, I’m leaving it up to you. I’ll do it, but I don’t want to make the decision about the particulars. And you need to decide whether you’re going to let Sam have free rein, or if you’re going to be in charge, the way you always are when we’re together.’
‘I think Sam expects whatever happens to be between the two of you. I’m fine with that. He knows, obviously, that I top you in the bedroom; I don’t know whether he’ll want to do the same.’
I think about Sam in charge of me in bed, the way Brad always is. Telling me what he wants me to do and how he wants me to do it. Making all the decisions. Calling the shots. Oh, yeah. Sam can top me. Sam can definitely top me.
‘Well, then, tell Sam I’m game, and he can top me if he wants. Tell him I’d like it if he does. If I see him first, I’ll tell him. The rest you’ll need to decide for yourself.’
* * *
A few days go by. I see Sam in the hall and ask whether Brad’s spoken to him yet about next Wednesday. He nods and smiles at me. I blush a little, wondering what he’s thinking.
‘I’m looking forward to it, Dana. I sure won the jackpot this time.’
‘Thanks,’ I answer, blushing darker. ‘Actually, I’m looking forward to it, too.’ Might as well be honest with him. He raises one eyebrow, and his smile turns into a grin.
‘We usually get home around six and have dinner before … playtime. You want to come over and eat with us?’ I think it will feel less weird if he actually has dinner with us than if he just shows up at the door for his appointment to fuck me.
‘Yeah, that’s good. I can be there around six.’
I let myself into the apartment, drop my stuff and sink onto the sofa. I’m really going to do this. On Wednesday I am going to have sex with my next-door neighbour. And, as far as I know, my boyfriend is going to be there too.
Wednesday rolls around. All day, all I think about is sex with Sam. I’ve seen him washing his car in the summer without a shirt on, in just a pair of cutoffs and flip-flops. I wonder what his cock will be like. I wonder what it will be like to be fucked by someone who isn’t Brad. I haven’t been fucked by anyone else in almost six years. That’s a long time.
I wonder whether doing this will make me feel like a slut.
I realise I really, really want to feel like a slut.
* * *
On Wednesday it’s Brad’s turn to pick up dinner on the way home. He’s stopping at our favourite sub shop. We debated getting ribs from This Little Piggy, but Wednesday is usually about bringing home something we can eat quickly and easily before getting on to the business of playing. We decide we’re not going to change the routine just
