"Not quite yet." 'She's pretty good at emptying bottles.'

"So, I went through a pretty hardcore butch phase after I came out. To put it mildly, I wasn't exactly subtle. I wanted to seem confident and out there, yaknow? But I was actually pretty nervous. I mean, I'd already had one roomie leave because of it. It would have been a pretty big blow to get rejected again.

"In comes Samantha. Picture, if you will, the average Victoria's Secret billboard."

"Thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six figure," I guessed, "photoshopped thigh gap, professionally made up, lingerie, runway ass swinging stride, that kind of thing?"

Nicole laughed, "You've got it! She looked like she'd just walked out of a commercial. Well, she was wearing more than just some underwear, but you get the point. I'm not trying to say that I hated her on the spot, but she sure did look a whole hell of a lot like other bitches I've hated before. You can imagine my surprise when she looks me over and calmly says 'you should probably know that I'm gay. I trust that won't be a problem.'"

I cracked up, "no wonder you two got along, she sounds as blunt as you."

"Yep! We actually didn't hook up for a long time afterwards. I met somebody and she was dating one of her TAs."

"Wait, what? Aren't you not supposed to do that?"

"Nope, but nobody tells Sam what to do. Anyway, I wasn't really attracted to her. I wasn't into femmes, but at the same time I felt like there was something missing in my relationship. More specifically, in the bedroom. Like... some itch that I couldn't explain to my girlfriend how to scratch. Sam and I both ended up breaking up at nearly the same time. One night, after lots of booze and sexual tension and validating the fuck out of each other, Sam and I started kissing. She was... well... she was fucking rough and wild. And I loved it. It scratched that itch and I wanted more.

"So yeah," Nicole shrugged, "fast forward a few years and she got a job in the city, so we moved out here."

***

We were at the cleanup phase of our League game. Two inhibitors down, pushing the third, just waiting for the sweet reward of destroying the Nexus. Pretty much auto pilot from here on out.

"Samantha is an interesting person. I'm curious what you'll think of her. I often feel like everything is a tug of war with her."

"You keep calling her that, but Nicole always says Sam." I observed.

"That's part of it!" Malcolm laughed, "I've always thought it's respectful to use people's names, but she hates hers. She knows I mean it well, and she likes that, but at the same time she hates the sound of it. She's never told me to stop and I think that internal struggle is hilarious, so I keep using it."

"So she's big on respect?" I wanted to get a feel for how to make a good impression on another of Malcolm's Fetlife friends.

"Honestly? I'm never really sure what to make of her. We get along fine, but I get the impression she doesn't like men very much as a general proposition."

That was intimidating. If he couldn't figure somebody out, I felt grossly under qualified.

"Nicole said they're going to a chocolate bar in the city on Saturday. Tomorrow now, I guess."

"What's a chocolate bar?"

"That was my first question! Apparently it's exactly what it sounds like, there's a place near Union Square that serves alcohol and a shit ton of chocolate. She invited us to join her and this other couple, but we have our plans."

"Who else are they going with?" Malcolm asked with interest.

"I can't remember their names... They're the ones who host those parties you mentioned before?"

"Jeff and Natalie! Yeah, they have a really nice apartment in Manhattan that's perfect for entertaining. I was hoping to introduce you to them too. Ah well, we'll have to take a rain check."

***

We ended up sharing the last beer. We sat close together on the couch passing it back and forth while watching Dave Chappelle be absurd on Netflix. It was a nice, easy way to round things out. Laughing at Chappelle's stories, pausing to share our own tales, just generally being buzzed jokesters.

She caught me staring when she played with her earrings, "You like these?" she asked, batting at them like a cat.

"Yeah. I've thought about getting some myself, but my office is kind of uptight about anything fun."

"That's a shame. You'd look even hotter if you did." I smiled at her complement, liking her attention. "You know, I actually have six piercings total," Nicole casually tossed out, slightly leaning back onto the couch to give me a view down her body.

Six total? Counting the two that were visible, that would put another four under her clothes somewhere? The grin on her face said she knew just what I was imagining as we laughed at Chappelle's impression of his friend Chip getting away with drunk driving. We kept it up until close to midnight, when Nicole realized she needed to get up for work in seven hours.

Just before she left, Nicole hugged me tight to her. Closer than the chaste hugs of greeting or farewell I was used to. She pressed herself into me like she was trying to turn me on and said, "I really like you, Devyn. We should get together again soon." I wasn't sure if it was meant to be sexual or not, but I'd had a good time so I agreed.

***

"Would you like me to tell you the answer to that little riddle, or would you like to figure her out yourself?" Malcolm asked.

"You tell me. Like, really, it felt flirty, and so did a lot of the rest. It wasn't uncomfortable at all, it's just like, we'd just been talking about our significant others!"

"Nicole isn't looking to cheat or pull you into cheating on me, although it will probably sound like that. She and Samantha like group play. It's just fun with hot bodies to them, rather than the intimate sex they share with each other... How to explain it..." He paused to consider. "Imagine you own a restaurant."

Being accustomed to his apparent non-sequiturs panning out to something relevant, I went with it. "What kind of restaurant?"

"Sushi. Nice place with tasteful decorations, low mood lighting and reasonable prices to attract young people on date night."

"Fuck tasteful, I want my sushi place to be bold and edgy."

Malcolm laughed, "you tried for that, but the architect insisted that would alienate too much of your clientele. Anyway, you've got a core of loyal regulars who come in every week or two. They think you have the best sushi and they can't get enough of it. Now, this being the food business and people liking to experiment the way that they do, your regulars naturally go to other restaurants too. They like some other places, which fill some other niches in their pallets, but they keep coming back to eat your sushi. How might that make you feel?"

I started to see where Malcolm was going with this. "Pretty great. Better than if they just came to my restaurant exclusively, that would be like winning by default. Eating at other restaurants validates that I'm the best because they have others to compare against."

"Exactly. It's not really an apples to apples comparison, but that's kind of how Samantha feels about letting Nicole fool around with other women. Samantha feels powerful knowing that Nicole can fuck any other sexy woman in the world, but she will always be the one that turns Nicole on the most. Plus, on top of that, typically it's a three or foursome scene with both Samantha and Nicole together, which adds all kinds of opportunities for dom and sub games."

It was a hard perspective to wrap my head around. I kind of understood what Malcolm was saying on an intellectual level, I'd had more than enough purely physical fun hookups to know that there was a world of difference between orgasms and emotionally fulfilling sex. Still, it felt weird to me. "That sounds like it would take a lot of trust," I stammered.

"It does. Absolute trust. You need to be able to toss your partner away from yourself like a boomerang with the complete faith that they will come back and things will be completely normal afterwards. Full knowledge and consent is vital from everybody. If anybody feels deceived at all, it can start feeling like cheating very fast."

"And she wants me to join them?" I asked, "Or us, rather?"

"I think so. She's attracted to you and you're attracted to her. From her perspective, it makes sense to lay the groundwork."

I felt my color rise a little from the matter of fact way my boyfriend declared me interested in somebody else. "Who says I'm attracted to her!"

He chuckled, "Well, Devyn, you've described her hair, features and body several times in this story, to say nothing about any tells she picked up on." He paused a second, realizing why I sounded agitated, "I don't mean that in an accusatory or negative way at all, you know. It's part of the human condition, we feel attracted to attractive people. It's better to have it out in the open than to bottle it up and pretend otherwise."

I felt a little embarrassed. Of course, he was right. Then it hit me, he'd carefully framed all this as Nicole and Samantha's activity. 'But then why would she assume my boyfriend would be fine with it?'

I asked and he hesitated before explaining.

"I have done such things in the past, but I didn't lead on that because knowing might bias you towards feeling obligated to have us do it. I want to be absolutely clear on this, there is zero pressure on you to do anything with anybody else. It only works if both of us want it, and you can't go into something like that just wanting to please me. Also, I'm a little angry at Nicole for taking aim at you so quickly. It isn't that I don't trust you, you know I do, but we've barely started ourselves! She should know better."

It was one shock after another. What was I supposed to think about all of this? I really wasn't in fucking Kansas anymore, was I? That first night, Nicole tried to tell me how far subs will go to please their doms. Just then, despite Malcolm's deadly serious words and tone, part of me felt, 'He likes it, so I have to give it to him.' It wasn't even a power exchange thing, it's just my instinct when it came to him. Like I was naturally predisposed to aligning my desires to his.

But how did I feel about the idea, just for myself? I didn't know. I had a lot of very strong feelings pulling me in different directions, ranging from monogamous loyalty to Malcolm, to desire to have my bisexual cake and eat it too, to guilt at feeling that last one, to reminding myself that the guilt wasn't the right mindset for what he'd tried to explain, and back again. Would sex with Nicole impact how I felt about Malcolm? No. I was completely certain about that. I'd casually hooked up with hot bodies for years without forming an emotional connection with any of them. But still, it couldn't possibly be that easy. Could it?

What if it was the other way around? I trusted Malcolm with my life, but would I be okay with him fucking somebody else? The punch to my gut was answer enough.

"I don't think I like the idea," I finally said, "can't we just focus on each other?"

"Of course we can. I'm looking forward to exactly that tomorrow." The sincerity in his voice alleviated the doubts circling my mind and made me feel warm. It made me feel respected, in a way I only ever had with him. He wasn't putting an a show of being caring, he really meant it. My comfort and feelings meant more to him than the threesome fantasy all men seem to have with their bi girlfriends. 'Just another way he's unique among all the people I've ever been with.'

----------

Saturday morning dawned with red splotches on my thighs and soul crushing cramps. 'Ah... that's what I was forgetting. How could I fucking forget this? It's been thirteen years of the same damn monthly pattern. FUCK!'

Seriously, fuck Aunt Flo. Fuck her raw up the ass with a big rubber dick.

'It's fine. Fine.' I told myself, 'This is happening, just gotta be calm and come to peace with it.' I sighed deep, trying to exhale out the disappointment welling up inside me. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't worked myself up expecting something magical to happen today. Something magical involving heavenly sensations in my pussy, the polar opposite of blood and cramping. 'For fucks sake, what's a girl gotta do to get laid!'

I sighed again and groped for my phone. 'Might as well get the bad news out of the way.'

Devyn: hey malcolm... i kinda got my period

He texted back quickly.

Malcolm: Oh no! Why do the good always have to leave us so young? Would you like to do something special for your last day on Earth, or should I just call hospice for you?

My jaw dropped. 'He's a jackass. The guy I've been crushing on all my life is a total jackass.'

Devyn: WTF!

Devyn: im cramping, not fucking dying

Malcolm: They say the first stage is denial.

Devyn: BITE ME!

Malcolm: Then comes anger.

I forced myself to take deep breaths and delete the next three texts before sending them. He was just trying to make me laugh instead of dwelling in negativity, and it was the kind of humor that I would usually enjoy. Rationally, I knew it was just hormones making me want to claw his eyes out.

Devyn: look

Devyn: can we just talk about what to do today?

Devyn: and no that doesnt count as bargaining

Fortunately for Malcolm and his eyes, he took the hint and stopped poking at me.

Malcolm: Sure. Well, I'm fine with keeping our plans, but I imagine you probably would prefer to push it back a few days? Totally up to you.

What did I want? The red wave has an annoyingly contradictory impact on my sex life. Years ago, I had a really embarrassing experience involving bleeding on someone's penis. He'd claimed he was fine with period sex beforehand, but I guess he'd changed his mind midway through because he got seriously grossed out. Lots of name calling and one breakup later, I became very self-conscious of my entire vaginal region at this time of the month. I'd had very supportive lovers since then, Malcolm himself had done a lot to reassure me that that Tyler was a jerk and I should feel comfortable in my own skin, but I still couldn't quite shake it.

That's the negative side of the coin. The other side is that I get really fucking horny. I'm pretty level through my cycle with this one spike when I'm bitchy, cramping, self-conscious and infertile. It confused me for years because it makes zero sense in terms of evolutionary biology, but then I had a girlfriend who was the same way. Apparently, it's actually pretty common, linked to progesterone levels dropping off a cliff.

But I digress. Long story short, I knew I wanted to see Malcolm, that I'd be really turned on the entire time, but that I wouldn't want to take my panties off. It was a familiar conundrum, one that had made my Aunt Flo actually popular with my partners because it usually led to me throwing myself at them and giving them head in an misguided attempt to relieve my frustration.

my uterus clenched painfully, reminding me of her needs. Sudden and irrational hunger surged through me. Carbs. God, I wanted all the carbs in the world...

Devyn: yeah, new plan

Devyn: i want to see you and my uterus is demanding pizza

Devyn: want to split one and watch something dumb on netflix?

Malcolm: Relaxing with pizza sounds nice, but I might have an idea for something more exciting than crap TV. See you soon!

I forced myself out of bed and into the shower, and then into some workout clothes. The gym always makes me feel better. It gets oxygen flowing through my blood to relieve cramping muscles, as well as being a therapeutic venting outlet onto inanimate objects. I have to be doing something, even if it sucks to do. I just can't stand hiding under covers in a frumpy sweater feeling sorry for myself. Something about it just makes me feel like a wounded animal hiding in a cave hoping predators pass me by.

----------

Malcolm was waiting for my outside my apartment door when I returned. The pizza box balanced in one hand contrasted his clean white collared shirt and shiny looking watch. I suppose he would call it casual because of the khakis and undone top button, but it still made me smile.

"You've got to be the best dressed pizza delivery guy I've ever had," I said.

He raised his eyebrows, "you see a lot of them?"

"About twelve every year." It was hard to decide which was more attractive to me, his happy to see me smile or the cardboard box he was holding. He was quite attractive, leaning casually against the wall like that... but that was garlic, onion and bacon I was smelling, hot and fresh from the box! Greasy salty carb wonderfulness just waiting to fill my mouth with joy!

'Yeah, definitely the box.' Transfixed as I was on it, I didn't realize how he was coming towards me until I felt myself pinned against the wall. Slowly, my gaze rose up his arm to his eyes, suddenly inches from mine. All those tiny rays of yellow, blue and teal radiating warmly out from the dark black core in the middle held me.

"You know, it is customary to tip," his casual tone carried much more ominous weight from his proximity. What had I been thinking about before? Something distractingly silly? He pressed his body into mine, one leg coming between mine and his chest lightly pressuring my breasts.

"I'm all sweaty!" I complained, self-conscious about how dirty I felt and how it must be turning him off.

It didn't seem to be. On the contrary, he came in even closer, brushing a few strands of my hair away from my face and possessively caressing around my ear. "I knew what I signed up for dating a gym rat." He kissed me, quickly, just enough to take my breath away before breaking off. It was like he'd found the accelerator on my libido and pushed it to the floor. That one heartbeat of contact, his hot wet lips pressed against mine, set my blood on fire. I wanted more. Needed more.

I chased him, leaning forward to reach his lips, but he held me back! He had snuck his hand from my ear behind my head and now held me firmly, gripping my hair and pretty much fully constraining how I could move. It was just like he'd done that first night while stripping me.

"This is a thing for you, isn't it?" I leaned into his grip to let him know what I meant.

"Yep. I like dictating the terms of engagement. Holding you like this is nice because it's a weak point. Your physical strength counts for very little, I can hold you firm with so little effort." He brought me to within an inch of another kiss and held me there to emphasize his point. I strained forward again, so close and yet...

"You damn te—" He dove into my open mouth, driving his tongue between my lips and pinning mine. I had a flashing thought that it sucked we had to break eye contact to kiss, but it was quickly swept away in the rush. Pedal to the floor on my emotions again, my heart beat pounded and I imagined I could feel his pulse keeping up. I flung my arms around him, determined this time not to let him get away so easily. I'd missed him. Missed this, this feeling of being joined together with him. My hands roamed freely, feeling all of him, wanting to experience it all at once. His back, his shoulders, his neck and hair, his abs through the silk of his shirt, the bulge in his pants between his legs.

We were both panting