From having no journal entries for a couple of weeks, I'm about to add the longest ever. I know that, because I've been working on it for a long time...

The longest, and more.

As I said in my last entry, "Something Happened".

Saturday, 17th March, 2001. St. Patrick's day.

We met the twins at Bennigans, as arranged, and as crowded as the restaurant was, managed to get seated for a pretty good lunch. Laurel and I were both driving. Brian made a comment about fifty percent of the party being missing a lot of the fun.

"That's okay," said Yolanda. "You and I can have fun with each other."

"Well, yeah," replied Brian, "but we don't need booze for that."

"Ooh," cooed Yolanda.

Sometimes I get this strange feeling. It runs like this: I remember things that happen as echoes throughout the night. But the echoes run backwards, so when I recall the evening, there are these little predictors which lead up to the main incident or incidents.

So perhaps I made an embarrassing social gaffe, but when I think back over the evening, there were a set of little related mistakes that I shouldn't have made. As if the blunder had consequences that extended in both directions of time, not just afterwards.

Or I'll meet someone at a party, and realize the next day that I'd been thinking about him beforehand, but with the expectation of coming into contact with him, as though the later meeting reminded me at an earlier point of him.

Of course, I can think of plenty of explanations, the obvious ones being coincidence, or if I've been drinking, perhaps the effects distorted my memory. Or what I'm really remembering began as deja vu, and wasn't real. Because it feels a lot like deja vu. But I don't have to have been drinking for the effect to happen.

It's as though an event triggers echoes of itself back through time, that coincidence becomes prescience. Except even that isn't right, because I don't believe in supernatural powers, and because that isn't the way it seems, more like a reversed reminder than prescience.

Have you ever read "Childhood's End", by Arthur C. Clarke?

And am I avoiding telling the story? :-)

Certainly on Saturday I had plenty to drink over the course of the day, though I hadn't started at this point. But that's the thing, now I look back on the banter as very... if not prescient, at least coincidental.

It's also true that I don't recall Brian responding so straightforwardly to Yolanda's flirtations. So perhaps it was less prescience than consequence.

"Seriously," said Brian, "why don't we dump the cars and share a cab?"

"We could park one, I guess," I said, "but we'll still need to move between places."

Brian disagreed. "It would be one to the district, we can walk while we're there, one to the Jupiter, and one home. That wouldn't be bad."

"Yolanda and I still have to get home," said Laurel. "I should just drive us."

"If that's the only problem, Brian's right," I said. "Y'all could stay. I have a spare room, if you don't mind sharing a bed."

"Who with?" asked Yolanda, looking through her lashes at Brian, who chuckled.

And that's what we decided to do, with Laurel and Yolanda stopping by their places to pick up overnight things on their way over after lunch.

They arrived after three. After some talk, we changed our plans and headed to one of Brian's favorite places, a huge bar with its own microbrewery. Nowhere near the district. Instead of bar-hopping, we'd try brew-hopping in one place.

By 4:30 we'd managed to acquire a table. Yolanda had taken her jacket off, and was carrying it over her arm, the tight spaghetti straps of her emerald top barely containing her. After that, we had no trouble getting seated. And no, I didn't feel at all guilty; if the guys who made space for us figured they preferred to view Yolanda from a standing position, that was okay with me. With Yolanda too, I'm sure.

She was certainly the reason we didn't buy drinks after the first round, either. The green top with her red hair made her look particularly Irish - she says she isn't, but the drinks came anyway.

Laurel didn't look Irish, though she'd certainly dressed differently from usual. She's long and thin, slightly taller than Brian, and very pale. Not just her blonde hair, but her gray-blue eyes and fair skin make her overall appearance very light. Usually she contrasts her coloring with makeup and dark clothes, but this time she had lightened her face further with powder and flesh-toned lipstick. She wore a cream knit sweater over matching skirt and high-necked top, with a colorless necklace and silver-framed glasses. With her height, she looked like an extra from a vampire movie.

We weren't drinking quickly. In view of... well, I just want to say that we weren't drunk. Tipsy, pleasantly buzzed, certainly. And no way should we have been driving. It would definitely have been a disappointment if any one of us had to play designated driver. But we weren't in any way out of control, just having a good time. Any more and we'd not have been ready for the dance at the Jupiter...

Which might not have been a disaster... The evening's one disappointment was, of all things, the dance. Their Irish band was great, but it just wasn't the right kind of dancing for us. We bounced around for a time, but when Laurel suggested finding another bar instead, we were all ready to go.

"Why don't we head back for margaritas instead?" I suggested. "I need off my feet."

"Green margaritas?" asked Yolanda, grinning.

So we found a cab and headed home.

I put a drop of green food coloring in Yolanda's drink, just to be annoying. When we were settled, I kicked off my shoes and complained of aches. I really hadn't dressed for Irish dancing.

Laurel rose and set her drink beside mine, then started giving me a neck rub.

"Oh, my turn next, please?" begged Yolanda.

"I can do that," said Brian, and moved behind the sofa to work on her shoulders.

"I don't know if I trust you," said Yolanda, looking back at him. "You might start tickling me again."

"If you recall, you started it last time," he said. "I won't if you won't."

"Aww," she said, as he started to work. Then she stopped him again and took off her jacket.

"I wouldn't dare tickle you now," said Brian. Yolanda grinned and relaxed as he worked.

I chuckled, and Laurel stopped her work, thinking she was hurting me. "No, I'm fine," I said, "but stop now, you need to relax, too." I patted the loveseat, where Brian had been sitting. It didn't look like he'd be needing it anytime soon. When Laurel sat beside me, I whispered to her, "No, I was just thinking that those guys in the bar today would kill to be standing where Brian is now."

Laurel grinned. "Yeah, I noticed that. I doubt that they'd want to stop at her shoulders, though."

"You think Brian does?"

It was pretty obvious from the way he was looking anywhere but at Yolanda's chest (except for surreptitious glances every second or two :-) that he was fascinated with the movement and nearness of her breasts. She must have been very conscious of the way she jiggled when he gripped her shoulders. Yolanda being Yolanda, I'm sure she deliberately contributed to the movement.

"Laurel," she said, "can you show Brian how to do the myofascial stretching thing you do?"

Laurel looked at me for approval. "Could be fun," she whispered.

I nodded, and grinned at her. "Fine with me."

So Laurel stood behind Brian, reaching around him to take his hands in hers. Then she leaned forwards as she moved his hands to Yolanda's upper chest, her cheek brushing Brian's.

"Spread your fingers," she said. "Now, right here." She set his hands just below Yolanda's collar bone. "Push down and out."

Yolanda winced as Brian worked. "I know how you feel," I said to her, "but it's worth it."

She nodded. "Lower, though," she said.

Brian moved his hands just slightly. Laurel, leaning against him, said, "That won't do." She laid her fingers on the back of his hands and pressed them forwards, moving his fingers down to the edge of Yolanda's breasts.

"Just don't let your hands slip," said Laurel, "because if you do, you lose all the tension." She stroked his hands, her body in contact with his right up to her chin, which was nestled against his neck. "But you aren't supposed to be tense," she said. "You can't do this if you're all wound up. Relax." And she ran her fingernails over the backs of his hands and up and down his arms.

Then she pushed his hands out to the side, digging his fingers into the fleshy edge of Yolanda's armpit. "Stretch here." Yolanda winced, and Brian tried to back away, but Laurel pressed him still closer. "No, that's what we need."

Laurel let him go as he worked, holding his shoulders instead, her cheek against his as she leaned over him to watch. "You're doing good," she said.

"He is," agreed Yolanda. "He really is."

After a time, she said, "Now here," and touched her breastbone. Brian started pressing down from her collarbone, but not very far. Again, Laurel leaned in and took his hands.

"No, right down here," she said, pushing his fingers down between Yolanda's breasts. "Stop fighting, you're doing fine."

The way Yolanda's top was moving spoke of Brian's inability to avoid touching the edge of her breasts. Between that and Laurel stroking her body against his, his face was flushed.

"A little further," said Yolanda, and Brian made a strangled sound. She leaned back and looked up. "Well, if you're embarrassed, that's okay, you've done plenty." With that, she reached up to grasp his face, dragging him down and pressing his lips to hers. Brian struggled, but he was pinned. He couldn't move his hands to support himself without them slipping into more dangerous territory. As a result, Yolanda had dragged him halfway over the back of the couch before he got back any semblance of control.

"Stop," he said, "I'll kick over my drink."

"No, you won't," said Laurel. Taking his feet, she folded them up under him, then tipped him over into the couch, where he landed with his head in Yolanda's lap.

Then she leaned over and tickled him, while Yolanda held him tight. He retaliated against Yolanda, his fingers pushing into her ribs under her arms, and as she squirmed and tried to grab at his hands, he rolled off the couch onto the floor, pulling her down on top of him.

Laurel joined in, the two of them almost succeeding in overpowering him. Probably would have done if Yolanda hadn't had to keep stopping to straighten her top. I worked on my drink as I laughed at them.

"What are we gonna do with him when we've got him?" Laurel asked Yolanda.

"Shit, I don't know," replied Yolanda. "I hadn't thought that far." She grabbed at a displaced strap, and yelped as Brian broke free and tickled her again. "I just wanted to give him a thank you kiss, and I guess he got over-excited."

"I did?" he yowled.

"Glad you agree," said Yolanda. Then she rolled off him, and Laurel leapt up in a hurry as Brian tried to grab her.

"He said he wouldn't tickle me if I didn't start it," Yolanda grumbled, sitting up on the floor.

"But you did," Brian said.

"No, I didn't. She did."

"Oh."

"I think you should pay for breaking your promise. But I guess..." She sighed, and to Laurel, she said, "Do you think Charles has finished with that married girlfriend of his, yet?"

"Why?" asked Laurel, as Brian retook his seat on the couch. "You know he'll be impossible to live with for months."

"I know, but..." Yolanda cast a quick glance at Brian, then stood, and came over to sit beside me.

"I warned you," said Laurel as she sat on the couch. Yolanda nodded.

"Warned her what?" I asked.

"After last time," replied Laurel, "I told her if she kept horsing around with Brian she'd regret it when it was time to stop. We fool around with Charles - we did fool around with Charles - a lot. Sometimes it didn't go any further. Usually... we both miss him, at least in that sense."

"Don't feel that you need to quit on my behalf," I said. "If Brian wants to substitute for Charles, I'm not going to stop him."

"Helen," said Brian, "I don't think this is a good..."

"Shh," I said. Then I stood, taking Yolanda's hand, and led her over to the couch. She looked bewildered as I made her squeeze in next to Brian, on the other side from Yolanda. I perched in his lap, pulled his face close, and pried his lips open with mine.

Rubbing my face against his, I pushed my tongue into his mouth and rubbed his chest. Then I nuzzled his cheek and kissed his ear. "Don't you want Yolanda's thank you kiss now?" I whispered. "I know you do."

I held his hands to my sides, as I leaned in to rub my tongue on his again, then ran them over the edge of my breasts as I pulled back. Then I leaned forwards again briefly. "See you in the morning, love," I whispered, and stood.

All three were wide-eyed as I picked up the rest of my drink and left the room.

I couldn't sleep, of course. I knew that what I'd done might rank among the biggest mistakes of my life. I half-expected Brian to be no more than five minutes behind me, alone, and that we'd never talk of this evening again. And when he didn't come to bed, I was a little disappointed, and lonely... but I was excited, too. I did and I didn't want to think about what they may be doing down in the living room.

There was over an hour of silence. I wondered what they would all be doing, whether they'd laughed off the opportunity. Maybe they were laughing at me, making such a suggestion. Or maybe they were naked on the floor of the living room... but that didn't seem likely, so after an hour I was feeling really embarrassed with myself.

Then I heard movements in the hallway, followed by voices on the edge of hearing in the spare bedroom, next to mine. Occasional laughter carried through the wall, but not speech. Since the higher pitched voices of the twins carried better, I wasn't certain that Brian was with them until I finally heard his deeper voice make a barely audible comment, which seemed to trigger more laughter.

The spare bed creaked occasionally, but it was the random sounds of standing, sitting and moving around, not the kinds of sounds I was dreading.

The laughter dwindled, and such a long time passed that I thought they must be sitting talking. Then one of the girls said "Ohhh!" in tones of surprised passion, and I knew that it was happening.

God, what had I done.

If I ever had been more than tipsy that day, I was stone-cold sober after that sound.

My ears strained now to pick up what was going on. After a time of relative silence, I noticed a gently rhythmic sound. It would stop, amidst a few low giggles, and then start again, with a slightly different rhythm.

I was wet with excitement even as I was shivering with apprehension. I wanted to be in there with them.

The noise was becoming more positive, with creaks adding to the complex pattern of sound, when I heard one of the girls moaning. Then a female voice - a different one, I think - yelped, and the noise of movement became louder and faster.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax as the noises continued. And continued, and continued. But instead I found myself trying to picture the scene in the other room. I was imagining the mechanics of their three-way intimacy, and wondering if the escapade would ever end. But before it ended, it grew into a fit of quiet cries and irregular bumps.

As the sounds finally waned, I felt even more apprehensive about their activities. It's one thing to know that your boyfriend made love to another woman while you weren't around - weren't even dating - and quite another to know that he's currently fucking someone else, just a few feet away. Two someones. Two very sexy someones.

But was surprised to find that I wasn't jealous. Scared, turned on, but not jealous. Maybe just a little disappointed with myself; I could have been part of it, but chose not to be. And I still couldn't sleep, and my heart was still pounding.

I wondered how I'd feel if Brian were to come back to me tonight. Soon after that, there was a gentle tap on my door, and the sound of it opening.

"Helen?" It was a woman's voice, not Brian's. I turned on the lamp on my nightstand to see Laurel in a thin robe. She came over to sit on the bed. "I came to see if you were okay."

"I'm fine, Laurel," I said. I reached out to touch her, and she took my hand. "Thanks."

"I should be the one saying thanks," she said. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I'm sure I don't," I told her. "I'm not at all comfortable with what just happened, but it's what I wanted. And what Brian wanted."

"Y'all have talked about this?"

I took my hand from hers, and drew back the sheets, inviting her to lie beside me. Then I told her about Keith, about how I didn't feel that I could be completely monogamous, and how I couldn't expect or even want Brian to be. How turned on he'd gotten with the games Yolanda and she had played with him, and how, yes, we'd talked about this possibility.

"Though I never expected it would be here," I said, "and that I'd be in the next room hearing everything."

"You could hear us?"

"Only the highlights." I could hear the tension in my voice. "It was... entertaining."

She touched my face. "You should have been with us. That would have been even more so."

"Thanks," I said. "I don't think I'm quite ready for that."

We lay there quietly for a while. She rested her hand against mine and watched me. Then,

"Uh-oh," I said.

"What is it?"

"Sounds like they didn't wait for you." The noises were slow, quiet.

She pursed her lips. "I wouldn't really expect them to."

"I think you should go to them anyway. I might... I don't know what I might do."

"Come with me," she said.

"No, I'm really not..."

"I know. Come anyway, just for a moment." She slid out of bed. "Turn off the light."

I did so, and followed her. She took my hand at the door, and whispered, "I didn't close the door completely when I left the room, I think I can open it just enough to see..."

"You want me to watch?" I yelped?

"Shh! Sure. Don't you want to?"

"No!" I whispered loudly. The idea terrified me. But excited me too. And if I could stand to see it, I might better be able to live with the idea... I wouldn't have to hurt myself with imaginings. Well, it was a good pretext...

"Oh, shit," I said, and nodded. She led me back to the spare room, where she pushed the door open a few inches.

"It isn't a great view," she whispered, "and my eyes aren't used to the dark, but it will do."

She stood off to the side while I peered through the opening. Probably because the bedside lamp had been behind me, shining into Laurel's eyes, I could see better than she had described. There was enough light from outside for me to have a clear view.

Yolanda was lying on top of Brian, her body pressed close to his, their mouths locked together. His hands were squeezing her butt as they moved together in a wave motion - her pelvis would press down into him, then her torso, and when she pushed her face forwards, her hips were lifting, ready to start bearing down into his again.

Occasionally their faces would part, and Yolanda would rest her chin on his shoulder, but the rolling motion would continue, her cheek moving against his shoulder. After a few moments of breathing heavily enough for me to hear, she would seek his mouth again with hers.

Laurel had knelt down during this time, and was watching too.

Then Yolanda lifted herself to her elbows. My night vision was improving, and I could see her moist face clearly. Her breasts shook over Brian's chest, and he moved his hands to cover them, kneading, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs. Yolanda's lips were parted as she continued to push against him.

When he lifted his head to her breast, I thought I was going to faint. He wrapped his arms around her back, and I could hear the sound of him sucking. Yolanda's breathing was rapid.

Sex in the movies usually has some elegance, smooth movements even during orgasm. It really isn't like that in real life. I mean, it's not something you notice when you're doing it, but it is when you watch. Brian's movements were rapid, uncontrolled. They bounced around jerkily, but it was certainly effective, as evidenced by Yolanda's gasps. Then suddenly she pushed him down to the bed, locking her lips to his. Brian put his arms around her, and they rolled around, Yolanda making "Mmmfff" sounds with each breath.

My heart was racing as I stepped back from the door. Laurel stood. "Seen enough?" she whispered.

"More than, I think."

She took my hand and squeezed it. "How do you feel?"

"Okay, I think," I said. Horny, I should have said.

She squeezed my hand again. "I'll come back with you for a moment. It doesn't look like Yolanda needs my help."

I led her back to my room, and we both got into bed. Laurel stroked my face. "How do you really feel?"

My heart was pounding as I touched the back of her hand. "I think you know exactly how I feel," I whispered. "And I think you knew exactly what that episode of voyeurism would do to me."

"Uh-huh," she replied, softly. Drawing me close, she kissed my forehead.

I held her, feeling more scared than even I had when I was listening to the trio's pleasure. She tried to kiss my lips, but I responded with only a touch and drew her head to my shoulder, where her breath tickled my ear.

She kept nuzzling my cheek, occasionally touching her lips to it. My heart was racing. I wanted to respond, but... when I'd let Keith seduce me, I let him take me to a place I'd never been with him, where I truly wanted to go, but still, it was a place with which I was familiar. There had been a moral question, for sure, one which stayed with me beyond the joining of our bodies, but one that I felt I understood.

What I was feeling, holding Laurel, was different. I couldn't deny that I felt something more than affection for her, and had for a long time, and that the touch of her face against mine... But the step I wanted to take was alien to me. It wasn't a familiar place at all. Once I'd gone there, there wouldn't be any going back. I'd be different. I didn't think I'd have any reason for regret, but that was the thing, I just didn't know.

But her hair was tickling my nose, still carrying a faint perfume, and a soft scent that was just Laurel.

I traced my finger around her neck and her ear, then pushed her face slightly back to kiss her gently on the mouth, several times, rubbing her nose with mine. Then, feeling my heart flutter within me, I parted my lips to hers.

We held each other close as we kissed. She tasted sweet, exciting in her softness. I ran my hand down her back, hugging her to me. Her tongue slipped between my lips, and I met it with my own, letting mine penetrate her mouth.

Our kisses slowly became more inflamed, slowly demanding more of each other than the touch of her tongue on mine. Making demands that I wanted to satisfy, that I could satisfy, that I would satisfy.

I pulled back to watch her as she ran her fingers down the collar of my pajama jacket to my top button.

Her eyes held mine, only occasionally flicking down to see what she was doing. Then she touched my cheek with her forefinger before running it down my neck, inside my pajama top, skimming over the side of my breast to my waist, where she stroked me with her palm.

Putting my hand behind her head, I drew her to me. As we kissed again, her hand slid back upwards to caress my breast. Tightening my arms around her squashed her hand against my breast, and she pinched my hard nipple.

I backed away a little so I could unfasten her robe, then I pulled it open and rolled on top of her, the nipples of her small breasts hardening quickly to my touch. I squeezed her left breast into my mouth and sucked.

She ran her hands down my back and over my butt. Then she lifted me back up to kiss my mouth, and I was conscious of her nipples against my breasts as we hugged and rolled around.

Rolling me back off her, she pulled my pajama sleeve over my arm, then, as I finished removing my top, she slipped off her robe and lay back down beside me.

Laurel's fingers traced my breasts and stomach, then she pushed my shoulder, easing me onto my back, and straddled my stomach. When she lowered her face to mine, I cupped her breasts in my hands and kissed her. Then she moved lower, nuzzling my breasts.

Tracing around my breasts with her tongue, she eased my pajama bottoms and panties down. Then she slipped them down to my knees and off. She played her extended tongue firmly over my nipples. As she started to suck, she ran her hands over my ass, her fingers probing the edge of my sex.

My pussy was pressed hard against her stomach as she slid her fingers into me. I felt no resistance to her movements, I was thoroughly wet, and her touch was so arousing my thighs were already tensing to her movements.

I breathed deeply as she slowly caressed passion into me. She knew just where to touch, and I groaned as she gently fingered my clit, rocking my hips against her body.

She brought me so close to coming that I sighed when she relaxed, lifting my knees and pressing my pussy to her to get more stimulation. But she just fondled me gently, making me wince with unfulfilled arousal.

"You're not going to leave me like this," I whined.

"Oh, I don't know," she whispered. "What's it worth to you? Turning over Brian for our full-time amusement?"

"Close," I gasped.

She grinned at me, then moved backwards. Her warm tongue touched my pussy and began to explore.

As she had known what to do with her fingers, she knew exactly what to do with her tongue, and soon my butt was tensing as each stroke sent waves of sensation through my thighs and stomach. I pulled the pillow under my head, and slid my hands beneath it for support so that I could watch her. She glanced up and caught my eyes as I rocked myself against her face.

I kept watching her as she focused on her work, her obvious enjoyment feeding mine. There was a natural timing to her movements, which kept me erotically charged, but without pushing me to the point that I couldn't avoid release. Other than relaxing to glance up at me occasionally, she kept her head down, not changing pace, though she did change what she did with her tongue. Sometimes it would penetrate deep, sometimes circle or tickle my clit, or both, with the base of her tongue rubbing my clit as I felt her inside me. Or she would trap my clit between her lip and tongue, sucking gently as she moved, which made me moan with arousal.

She drew her head back, but before I could wail in frustration, she licked a finger and stroked me. I tightened my thighs around her wrist as she touched my clit.

"Is this good?" she asked, softly.

"This is all good," I breathed.

She parted my labia with her tongue, and drew her tongue firmly over my exposed clit.

"Ahhh!" I cried, softly, "that's way more than good."

She lifted her head for a moment. "I know," she whispered, then lowered her face and lapped at my clit, rapidly but firmly.

I gripped the edge of the pillow with my fingers as my thighs tensed automatically, pressing my pussy against her face and lifting my back from the bed. "Ngh!" I groaned. "Mmmmngh!"

Laurel moved her hands, still driving her tongue against my clit, running her palms up my hard stomach and over my breasts, squeezing and caressing. Then back down my sides, stroking, over my butt...

Suddenly she grabbed my butt, her fingers gripping me tightly, burying her mouth into my sex as she sucked, then ground her tongue against me, shaking her head as she flooded my clit with power.

The orgasm that had been building for so long took me by storm. All the arousal that had built up when listening to the sounds of sex, when watching Brian, my love, taking physical delight in Yolanda's naked, vibrant body, when my wanting Laurel battled my resistance, when Laurel turned my desire into a furnace of passion, all of these things tore into me as I came.

And just kept coming, my body a clockwork spring wound tight, untwisting with release, but with Laurel's tongue still turning the key.

When she finally let me go, after what seemed like an eternity, and yet could never be long enough, she lay beside me, slipping a finger inside me, caressing. My sex still twitched against her.

I stroked her neck. "God," I said.

"It helps to know what feels good," Laurel whispered.

"I want to do that to you."

"You will," she said, and kissed my nose.

"But... even when I coach him, no guy has ever done that to me," I said. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Relax, lovergirl," said Laurel, softly. "Whatever you do will be just fine with me. And only when you're ready, I know this is new for you." She held my eyes. "But I do want you." Then she grinned. "And if you feel you need to practice... well, I'm here for you."

I smiled and drew her to within kissing range. Our lips met, and I tasted myself on her. I flinched, but then pushed my tongue into her mouth, the thought of her being excited by my taste enough to make me want to share it. I wrapped my arms around her neck and hugged her as our tongues touched.

Still with a finger inside me, Laurel ran her free hand over my back, kneading my ass, then squeezing my breast. As she pinched my nipple, I felt a new wave of arousal seep into me.

"Mmmm," I said, squeezing her hand between my thighs, and pushing against her finger. Laurel squeezed and shook her hand. "Mmmm!" I groaned again, mouth still locked to hers, as she pushed me back over the precipice, and I quivered against her as I came.

"Stop now," I murmured, "it's my turn."

As she withdrew her hand, I rolled her to her back, and started to explore with my lips and palms, caressing her body as I suckled her breasts. I squeezed her pussy, and slipped a finger into her, teasing extra wetness from her before I finally lowered my mouth to her sex.

Inexperienced I might be, but Laurel seemed to enjoy my attentions. I stopped at one point, and asked her to tell me what felt good.

"You're doing fine, lovergirl," she said. "Just do what comes naturally."

I should have teased her out more gently, toyed with her while her response grew, but having the control of her body that my tongue on her clit gave me was intoxicating, and the thought of driving her unstoppably to orgasm excited me. So instead of holding back, I pushed forward until she gasped and came, keeping up the effort as she moaned and quivered.

When she was through she reached down and drew me back up alongside her, and pulled the sheet up over us, and after a little more kissing and cuddling I drifted off to sleep. I recall more sounds of intimate excitement from the next room, but as loud as they were, I don't know if they were happening as I was on the point of falling asleep, or if I dreamed them later.

Sunday morning I woke with - I admit - a slight hangover, startled to find Laurel watching me.

"Now how do you feel?" she asked.

"Surprised," I said, my voice sounding rough to my ears.

"Good or bad surprise?"

"Good," I said. I ran a finger over her breast. "Very good. I don't think I'm gonna trade Brian in just yet, but... that was something, last night."

"Wanna try again?" she asked.

"I need a shower," I said. "Join me?"

I thought I'd need coffee, too, but after showering with Laurel, I was excited enough to skip it, and we maneuvered each other into a sixty-nine position, where we took our time bringing each other pleasure. Feeling her response to me was part of the magic, and when Laurel came, I experienced her enjoyment in the tight quivering of her thighs, in the taste of her wetness on my tongue, the spasms of her sex, the movement of her body against mine, her hands on my butt, the muffled cries against my pussy, and her tongue's redoubled efforts against my clit. Seconds later I crested with her.

Afterward, we shared a kiss, and lay back.

"I've never been sure," I said, "whether you were really flirting with me, or just playing."

"Well, now you know."

"I guess," I chuckled.

"Though it was both," she added. "I mean, I was giving up hope that you might like to experiment, but I wasn't going to push."

"I told you last night that Brian and I had talked about the possibility of him succumbing to your charms?"

"Oh, that wasn't me," she said. "You'd have to talk to Yolanda about him succumbing."

"I meant you plural, y'all," I said, then saw her smirking at me. "Oh, shit," I said, feeling my face get warm. "I think that's more detail than I needed to know."

She just grinned at me.

"Anyway," I said, "we talked about him... not resisting temptation? Well, I think it would be fair to say that what happened between us won't surprise him too much."

"Oh? You told him you might succumb too?"

"Stop it," I giggled. "He knows I was interested, yeah, but that I wasn't sure what I wanted. But I didn't know our fantasies would be so... complementary. I'm glad they were."

"Mmm, me too," she said, and rolled over.

We cuddled for a while, Laurel toying with my breasts. I stroked her back and butt, and eventually let my fingers wander between the back of her thighs to her sex. I caressed her gently, circling her clit, until she shuddered and came.

"That was nice," she whispered.

"For me, too," I agreed. "I like turning you on."

Some time later, Laurel left me in the afterglow of her erotic attentions, and slipped into the next room to pick up her clothes. She returned and started dressing.

"Things are getting entertaining again in there," she said.

"Mmm, I'm not sure I want to hear it," I said. "I guess it is time to get dressed."

So I threw on underwear, shorts and a tee shirt, and Laurel came with me to the kitchen, where I brewed coffee and boiled a couple of eggs.

It didn't give us perfect isolation. Either Yolanda was taking less effort to be quiet than the previous evening, or Brian was pushing her further out of control. They didn't emerge from the bedroom for almost two hours... Laurel and I were sitting together on the couch watching TV.

Yolanda was grinning, and somehow in her rumpled state her green dress looked even more provocative. She came right up to me and hugged me. "He's unharmed," she said, then she kissed my ear, and whispered, "not sure if I am, though."

"You don't deserve to be," I said, "stealing my boyfriend like that."

"Stealing?" she cried. "You gave him to me. Well, loaned."

Grabbing Brian's hand, I said, "He isn't mine to give away." He went from looking sheepish, probably wondering how I'd respond, to worried. I twirled myself into his arms. "He's mine to keep."

I kissed him, which lasted longer than I'd intended. Then turned around and leaned against him, folding his hands in mine under my chest, my breasts touching the sides of his hands through the soft shirt.

After Yolanda had helped herself to coffee and cereal, the twins left. I held Brian on the couch.

"How are you feeling?" he asked me.

"Why does everyone keep asking how I feel? How do you feel?"

"Exhausted," he said. "Worried, too."

"About?"

"What you're going to think in a day or two. That's why I want to know how you feel."

"I'm doing good, Brian. I'm not sure I'd want to make a habit of it. I missed you, for one thing."

"You could have been there," he said.

"No, you know, I don't think I could," I mused. "I mean, the idea is definitely erotic, but... I don't want to share you, Brian."

"Then why did you encourage us?" He sounded very apprehensive.

"That's different. That's sex. You and I... we're beyond that. At least, I think we are... when I make love to you, Brian, I don't want to share that. It's private. I guess if we could separate sex from love, it would be different... but I don't ever want to do that. Are you disappointed?"

"I guess... yes, a little. It was... exhilarating, and I'd like to share it with you. Not that I got too long to practice, we lost Laurel. Do you know anything about that?"

"Uh, yeah, a little... Still, you looked happy enough with Yolanda..."

"You watched us?" Brian's tone was mortified.

"Uh... we did, for a little while. You were pretty far gone." I could picture her boobs overflowing his grip, her nipples moving with his thumbs, then his mouth around them, taking them in hungrily... I shuddered. Not that I was jealous, or upset, but still, when the thought of seeing your lover with someone else is so new... it's a little unnerving.

Maybe his thoughts were running along the same lines. I felt his fingers slipping around my breast, and I wriggled against him.

"Do they feel different?" I asked.

"What?"

I took his hand and tucked it under my tee shirt back to where it had been resting. "My boobs. Which feel better, mine or hers?"

"Yours, of course."

"Why?"

"'Cause they're attached to you."

"No, come on."

"I mean it," he said. "It isn't how they feel, it's how doing this makes you feel, and I'd prefer to do that to you than to Yolanda."

"You would? You were pretty happy doing it to Yolanda yesterday." I nuzzled against his shoulder so that he would know I wasn't being jealous.

"Uh-huh," he agreed.

"Did it make you feel good?"

"Uh-huh." He tweaked my nipple.

"Better than I do?"

"God, no, what a question."

"Not even a little bit? Then why bother?" I turned my head and bit his earlobe.

"Well... the novelty was exciting."

I sat up, pulled off my tee shirt, and wrapped my arms around his neck. "But that wasn't your fantasy," I said. "The fantasy was both of them."

"You don't think I could fantasize about Yolanda?" he asked.

"Mmm, I think you could."

"I'm not fantasizing about her now," he said, and lifted me to get his mouth to my breast. While he suckled, he started to ease off my shorts and underwear, and stroked my pussy.

"Go easy," I said, "I'm a little sore."

"Oh?" he released my breast and looked up at me. "So you do know what happened to Laurel?"

"I said I did."

"Should I stop?"

"No way," I said. "Just go easy."

I stood, pulled him to his feet, dragged him to the bedroom and undressed him. He was already hard, but I couldn't take him into me straight away, but his fingers soon had me wet, and he started fondling my clit.

"Stop," I said, "I don't want to come like this."

"Are you sure?" he whispered, still stroking. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Mmmmhh," I moaned, "I want you, Brian."

He kissed me, but didn't stop. I could feel myself tightening for release. As he rubbed my clit between two fingers, I gripped his hand between my thighs and started rocking against him. I wanted him inside me, but I couldn't wait.

I was so close to coming when he pulled his hand away, leaving me lying there hurting in frustration. Then he climbed onto me, and eased himself inside...

I'm usually only good for one orgasm with Brian on top, but he had me there so quickly, and stayed inside me so long - Yolanda had squeezed him pretty dry, I guess - that I just kept coming. I was almost relieved when he finally slipped out of me, after he'd finally reached his own climax.

I spent most of the rest of the day in bed, just recovering. I was too sore by then for Brian, but I didn't regret it, and looking back, I found that I didn't regret any part of the weekend.

So, that's what I've been taking my time putting together, which of course has gotten in the way of all the other interesting stuff, like weather reports :-) (It had gotten cold again by early last week; it even snowed slightly, though with forty-five degree air temperature, the flakes barely touched the ground.)

Laurel called me to ask me the question yet again.

"I'm fine, Laurel. I really am," I said. "Why do you all think I'm going to fall apart over this?"

"You want to get together for lunch?"

So we did. She came over to near my work, since I'm so far from her (and most of my friends).

"There's one thing I should say," I said, "since you keep asking how I feel. I like you, I'm very attracted to you, I hope you had as great a time as I did Saturday, but I'm not in love with you."

"Why should you be?"

"I don't know, I just want to be clear. I'm not a shiny poly person."

Her eyebrows rose. "Shiny poly person?"

"A friend of mine uses it about the public façade of the incessant high drama of poly relationships. You know, 'Polyamory is the only true expression of love, even though Joe is threatening to commit suicide, Angie isn't speaking to us, and Fred is jealous that Marna spent the night with me instead of him."

Laurel chuckled. "I love it," she said. "That's so true."

"I don't think you're a shiny poly person."

"I don't think I'm a poly person at all, Helen. I just... don't feel constrained to be what anyone else expects of me." She shrugged. "And yes, I had a wonderful time on Saturday. I'm game for a rematch, if you are, but I wouldn't push the issue. I like you. We had fun. That's it." She frowned. "Except that if you were a guy, I think I'd cuff you to the bed and make free with you until I owned every inch of your body."

"Mmm, maybe you could try that anyway?"

"Would it make you swear undying love?" She grinned.

"Nope," I said, "but it sounds like fun."

"Well, when you're ready," she said, "and if you want, come over for that massage I promised you. I think you'd enjoy it." She winked at me. "I know I will."

I reached out and squeezed her hand. "I might... no, I will do that." I drew back. "Now I'm all tingly," I complained, and she grinned at me.

"How's Brian?" she asked.

"Walking around with a big silly grin on his face," I said. "Y'all made him very happy."

"And you're really okay with that?"

"If anything, he's bound to me now even more than before," I said. "Where else is he gonna find a girlfriend who doesn't mind if he to goes bed with her friends?"

So now it's Sunday, April 1. I won't be able to upload this entry, because I'm traveling, heading back to Texas. I should be able to get to it in a day or two.

Don't start asking for "hot girl-on-girl action" stories. I'll write what I write.

This weekend I've been in Newark. Left Wednesday night, to spend two days planning / orientation / training on a software component that we're using for my project. Mary and Mel will be coming up here in a couple of weeks for a longer version, but I need to know just what we're going to gain, and what it's going to cost us.

I decided before I came here that I was going to stay the weekend. I wanted to travel around a little. As short a notice as we booked my flight, I couldn't get a discount fare, so taking an extra couple of days was no problem.

When I picked up my rent car on Wednesday night, the rental company was out of the class car that I had reserved. They gave me a PT Cruiser. I didn't realize they were even rentable. I thought it would be fun, but it just isn't that great a car to drive. The shape makes it difficult to see behind, and it's underpowered. Maybe just because it's a rental car, maybe it's a lower-powered version than the norm.

Still it got me around. New Jersey's much prettier than I'd imagined, even as wet and dull as this weekend has been. I drove along the coastline, and walked on the beach, getting sand everywhere. Took photos. Climbed over the broken up boardwalks, ducking the "keep out" ribbons. Wished I had someone to share it with...

But Brian...

Brian was doing something else entirely this weekend.

He called me Friday to ask if I minded for him to go dancing with the twins.

"Just dancing?"

"Well..."

I chuckled. "Of course I don't mind, Brian. Just get yourself back home by Monday, okay?"

"Thanks, love," he said.

"I won't be stealing Laurel from you this time. You sure you can handle it?"

"Uh-huh," he said.

And I'm sure he can. And I know he'll be there for me when I get back. And I feel good about it. And this time, they've all made the choice while they're stone-cold sober :-)

(At least, with no alcohol intoxication. I'm sure he's intoxicated with Yolanda and Laurel. But who wouldn't be?)

Someone changed the clocks on me! Being alone, not constrained by work or having to deal with anyone, I've had no connection with time. I haven't been listening to the radio. I had my watch, but it was wrong, of course... Fortunately, I'd left plenty of time to return the car and get to the terminal. The car rental guy wrote down the return time, and I panicked. But I made the check-in time okay.

This really has been a wonderful weekend. I'm almost reluctant to be on the plane, even knowing what's waiting for me at the other end. I've had the chance to think, which is almost a luxury these days.

And having thought... it's ironic, really. Especially after posting on the BBS last week about the complaints of no entries. But I've come to a decision.

Some of my thoughts from this weekend I just don't want to share. Here, or anywhere. About what I've been, and what I could have become. What possibilities I have, and what doors that I would were open are closed to me.

I'm not certain, but I'm guessing that many of my thoughts were triggered by the insight I've gained in writing, especially in writing the earlier parts of this entry. Realizing how much I've changed, and how much change I still need to undergo.

There is a project that I've had in the back of my mind for a long time, but which has suddenly come to mean something. A project I can't work on if I report on it in my journal, but which, should I undertake it, is sufficiently important to me that not recording it would be subvering what the journal is.

In considering it yet again, I realize that the factor which has always held me back is not a change in the project, but in my own outlook. Paradoxically, it requires values I once held dear.

I wish I could be more specific. I feel that I'm skirting a practice I dislike in novels: of obscuring an element for false drama, but failing to hide it. "There is an important clue here, but I'm not going to tell you what it is. Yet." ("The Pelican Brief" comes to mind.)

But in this case, no revelations will be forthcoming. Suffice it to say I have passions new or rekindled which are incompatible with keeping this diary.

And so I've decided that my journal has run its course. It's over. This wasn't going to be my goodbye entry when I started writing it, but that is what it is. I may post an occasional update, and I'll still be reachable by email and through the BBS.

I'll still be writing. Not keeping the journal should make that easier. And after the several times I've thought about quitting, always because of problems, it seems appropriate to leave on a high note.

Because, in the slightly over two years I've been keeping this diary, it has changed me, and - I firmly believe - for the better. Sure, it has caused problems. Knowing that I was going to be writing about events did make me tend to second-guess myself. But it also encouraged me to think things through. And, conversely, to act on feelings that I'd have tried to ignore, or wouldn't even know I had.

In "playing to the camera", I think I've become a little more exhibitionist, and I like it.

I guess I should wait just a little longer before posting this. Sitting here on the plane, thinking about the last few days, I'm convinced that it's the right time. But just in case... I'll give myself the opportunity to edit out this section and carry on as if nothing has happened.

If you're reading this, it means I didn't change my mind.

So thank you for staying with me for over two years now. You've helped me in the journey, and I hope that you feel good about that, because I sure do.

I love you all.

Helen