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But we still get together on occasion, and this weekend, Ed flew into town to party. Of course, he’s married now, and to his daughter’s friend no less, but that’s the way my buddies and I roll. Yeah, we have a taste for sweet young things who are at least two decades our junior. And yes, I’m the most fucked up of my friends because I’m falling for my ex’s daughter.
It's true because nothing else can explain the emotional maelstrom I’m experiencing at the moment. I’m confused, hurt, and angry inside. I spoke to Chrissy like she was nothing, and cut things off between us, but inside, I ache. The pain is physically tangible in my chest, and I’m constantly short of breath. I popped some Xanax earlier in the day, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. I guess I’ll just have to deal.
Even worse, the fiasco with Chrissy made me completely forget my plans for tonight. Fuck! We’d agreed to hit up Club Z to celebrate, but now, I don’t feel like setting foot in a sex joint. I just want to mope and drink on my lonesome. But what kind of friend would that make me? As a result, I concede.
“I’m on my way,” I growl, and hang up. Quickly, I change into a button-down that matches the electric blue of my eyes, rake my fingers through my black hair, and head out. To my relief, Chrissy’s door is closed and it’s silent in the hallway. Good, because I really can’t face her right now. And like the fucking coward I am, I rush down the stairs, out of the house, and into the night.
I’m not planning to drink, so I take my car and drive into the city before handing off my sedan to a valet outside Club Z. The place looks like an average office building judging from its exterior, but the inside gives off a luxurious, clubby feel. Elegant paintings hang on the walls, and there’s wood-paneling everywhere. Not only that, but when I enter the lounge upstairs, it’s a scene. There are scads of gorgeous women, dressed in almost nothing, hooking up with one, two, or even three men at a time as they pant and writhe on the velvet furniture.
Yeah, Club Z is that kind of place, and normally I’d be into the debauchery. But tonight, the scene just doesn’t float my boat. I don’t want to be here. I want to turn around and head home. But since I can’t be where I want to be, which is, frankly, in bed with Chrissy with her soft body pressed up against mine, I might as well make the most of the evening and try to enjoy hanging out with my college buddies.
I locate Ed and Dane at the bar, teasing two women wearing nothing but see-through panties and six inch heels. Great. One girl’s literally shaking her breasts in Dane’s face, while the other bends over, parting her ass cheeks to wink her holes at Ed. Both men are enjoying the fun, and if they didn’t have wedding bands on, I’d think they were single.
“There you are!” grunts Ed when I make my way over. He thumps me on the back. “Whoa,” he says, appraising the muscles in my shoulders. “You been working out?”
“More like steroids,” Dane jokes. “You cycling, bud?”
I roll my eyes.
“No,” I say in a short voice. “This is all hard work and eating right. Not that you fuckers would know what that means.”
Both men roll their eyes.
“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Dane drawls. “What’s your problem, dude? Why not enjoy what you have in front of you?” he asks, gesturing to the two girls, who are now kissing as they fondle each other’s breasts.
“I’m just not feeling it,” I say in a terse voice. “And you shouldn’t be either, seeing that you’re both married now.”
Ed and Dane exchange looks.
“Yo, what the fuck is your problem?” Dane growls his blue eyes glowing with anger.
“Yeah, keep a lid on it,” Ed says, his tone cool. “I’ll have you know that our wives know that we’re here, and urged us to have a good time. Jamie and Kimber aren’t jealous that way. In fact, they said we should do whatever.”
“Dowhatever?” I ask, one black brow raised. “What the fuck does that mean?”
The two men shrug.
“Whatever we want. We don’t live in cages, bro. We’re married, but that doesn’t mean that we’re dead.”
I take a deep breath because Ed and Dane are right. I’ve led a life of depravity until now, so who am I to judge?
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I’ve just got some stuff on my mind.”
“What’s going on?” Dane asks. “Relationship problems? Hell, I thought you didn’t do relationships. I thought you were into the girls who don’t talk back,” he says, alluding to my fetish.
He’s right because I haven’t been with a woman in a while. Not a real woman, at least. My plastic girls have been keeping me satisfied, without the trouble of dealing with an actual living and breathing human being.
“Yeah,” I grunt, “the sex dolls have been great. But it’s gotten complicated.”
“Complicated?” Ed snorts. “I thought that was the whole point of sex dolls—uncomplicatedfucking, anytime you want.”
I grunt again, and before I realize it, I’m spilling the beans on my shenanigans with Chrissy. How I’ve fucked her every which way, without acknowledging her personhood. How I told her off this afternoon, and how her eyes filled with tears at my words. Goddamn, I’m such an asshole. Meanwhile, Ed whistles at the end of my story.
“Bro,” he drawls, clearly impressed. “That is some crazy shit. She must really be starved for it.”
“She’s definitely got a horny little cunt,” I agree. Immediately, I regret my words because it feels wrong to talk about Chrissy this way. Like I’m betraying her somehow. “But I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know?” asks Ed. Just like Dane, he’s an asshole. Not to his wife because he’s found true love with Jamie against all odds. But given the right situation, their inner frat boys will always live on, if only vicariously through me. “If she’s up for it, which clearly she is, why not just enjoy the ride?”
