When I first sat in the booth, I landed on Whit’s hand and freaked out. When I looked at him, he gave me a funny smile and I realized his hand may have been there on purpose. I surprised myself by sitting in the exact same spot, letting his palm cup my ass cheek. I could have easily told him to stop, but I don’t think I wanted him to. But then, after sitting down, Zane put his hand on my thigh. When I was getting dressed this morning, I remembered the note I made to myself while filing for Whit. I even had a pair of pants waiting for me on my chair, but no. I was like, “Put on a skirt, Chloe. One that’s even shorter than what you wore the day before because you’ve been having these intense fucking fantasies and why let anything come between you and it becoming a reality.” I’m not saying I’m regretting my decision… I’m just saying I’m confused and frazzled. Both of their hands are on me, Zane stroking my leg and Whit randomly massaging my ass. Everything is tingling and on fire and I’d love to relieve the tension growing in me but being in public kills those plans.
I keep my knees close together, hoping that’ll be enough to keep me centered, but Zane’s hand goes higher and higher, teasing me. A very big part of me wants him to go all the way and just stick a few fingers inside of me and I can’t deal with that thought. At some point, one of the boys ordered us wine because my glass is suddenly full. I start taking sips whenever Zane or Whit makes me feel something. I make sure they’re small sips, but I’m taking a lot of them because I’m feeling tipsy. Zane and Whit try to keep up a conversation, but I’m getting drunker and drunker, I’m not sure if I’m making any sense
“What do you do for fun?” Zane asks me.
I scratch my head, thinking about what I do in my free time… Masturbate to thoughts of you two fucking me. And when I say you two fucking me, I mean at the same time. I know I can’t say that, so what else do I do…
“I like crafting. I’m a very big D-I-Y-er.” I over enunciate, wanting to make sure my words are sensical, but it just makes me sound drunk – which I am!
“That sounds fun. Have you made anything recently?” Zane ignores my drunken state and continues asking me about my crafting. Whit has intensified my ass massage, his fingers really digging into my ass cheek.
I eat while I try and remember what I’ve done recently. My mind’s a little fuzzy, but a memory starts to form. One of a bookshelf… that’s because the last thing I made was a bookshelf…
“But I still need to paint it…” It’s a beautifully crafted, but kind of bland looking bookshelf. I was going to get it done after graduating, but my Dad had me come here, so that’s been put on hold.
“What do you still need to paint?” Whit chimes in, asking me what I’m talking about.
“A bookshelf, silly. Did you not hear me say that?” I’m so sure I told them about the bookshelf. They must not be listening to me because I very clearly said it was.
I take a longer sip of wine, loving its fruity sweetness. My thoughts are becoming more and more jumbled, but this wine tastes really good, so I don’t want to stop drinking it. Plus, my glass never seems to empty. The service here is really fucking good.
“I must have missed it. So, you made the bookshelf yourself?”
I’m no longer paying attention to who is saying what – it’s all just men talking to me.
“Yeah. I’m pretty handy with a tool.” Another sip of wine because that was awkwardly worded.
“Did it take you a long time?”
I shake my head, “Nah, it took me like a week, maybe? I had off from school and I just went at it. I think I was mad at someone for something and hacking away at wood made me feel better. Channeling my energy and all.”
I look down at my plate and realize I’ve eaten all my food. The plate next to mine has some potatoes on it and I use my fingers to put them in my mouth. They are crisp and buttery, and the best potato wedges I have ever had in my life.
“Fuck! These are good!” I eat about three more and then it dawns on me – this isn’t my plate. I am eating someone else’s food. “Sorry, if I ate your food. I’m just hungry and very drunk.” I pop four more in my mouth before stopping. Being drunk is amazing. I love the lack of shame.
“Don’t worry about it. Why don’t we get you outside?”
Whatever happens next, I don’t pay too much attention to it. All I know is there are four hands holding me up. That’s a good thing because I cannot walk. I think if I had zero support, I’d collapse on to the ground, a drunken mess. I giggle at the thought.
We get outside and the fresh air snaps me out of my drunken haze – at least a little. I’m more aware of how ridiculous I’m being and some of that shame comes creeping in. I remember having a lot of dirty thoughts, but I’m very sure I didn’t say any of them. A girl can hope…
I rub my eyes, the bright light hurting a little. “Zane? Whit?” I look at the two of them on either side of me and feel mortified. Jesus, I’m being a fool.
“Yeah,” they respond simultaneously.
“How much did I drink?”
“You drank quite a bit, Chloe. I was surprised watching you down glass after glass.” Zane’s words sting a little.
They must think I’m such a little girl. How could I let myself drink so much? It’s the middle of a workday, I have to go back to the office and continue on that damn marketing project. Dad would be so disappointed in me. I let two men get into my head and tried to use alcohol to make myself feel better about it. I’m about to apologize when an enormous yawn comes out of me. Fuck. I forgot wine makes me sleepy.
“Don’t worry, Chloe. The car is almost here to take us back to the office.” Whit rubs my back as he tries to comfort me. I lean into his hand, finding the small circles he’s making serene. I love the way he touches me. There’s this contrast between gentle and assertive. When he swiped my hair from my face earlier, I almost kissed his hand.
I’m so comfortable that I almost fall asleep against Whit’s chest, but the car arrives, and we get in. While we ride back, I rest my head on Zane’s shoulder. It’s equally as comfortable as Whit’s chest and I’m still not sure who I like better. The fact that I might have to choose between them is becoming more of a reality. In all my fantasies, I’ve never had to choose between them – that’s why they were fantasy. I could never see the two of them being okay with me seeing them both. How would the logistics of that even work? I’m not against polyamory or anything, it’s just the two of them are best friends and there is bound to be some awkwardness if I tried to have two separate relationships with them. Maybe it’s better to not even think about. I can just take little power naps on them, enjoying whatever contact is afforded to me without crossing that ultimate line.
We get to the office and Zane and Whit sneak me in, so no one sees my drunken state. We wouldn’t want my noontime happy hour moment getting back to my Dad on his yacht. He would turn that thing around so fast and then where would I be? Ashamed and stuck explain to my Dad why I let Zane and Whit get me drunk.
We reach the top floor and I’m led to Zane’s office. Whit follows behind, his hand resting on my back, gently pushing me forward. I’m doing my best to stay awake, but – at this point – I’m dirt tired, so when Zane suggests I take a nap on the couch in his office, I offer very little protest.
“You should maybe get some sleep, Chloe. I think it’ll do you some good.”
“I don’t know, there’s still work I need to get done.”
“It’ll be there tomorrow. Right now, I want you to worry about you.”
I nod and lie myself down on the couch. It’s so soft and warm that I start to fall asleep almost immediately. I think Whit and Zane are talking about something, but their voices are so low that I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. I’m just able to hear my name. Oh, they must be complaining about my behavior today. It really was abysmal, and I feel so ashamed.
“I’m sorry for being so unprofessional today. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again…” I mutter incoherently.
One of them responds, but I’m so far gone that I don’t know what it is they said.