Threesome - Lawrence Block [44]
Anything should be easier.
I saw them, five boys at the roadside, two of them thumbing valiantly at passing traffic, another bending over cupped hands to light a cigarette, two others reeling back playfully as if sideswiped by a passing car. I took my foot at once from the accelerator and applied the brake, thinking as I did so that the pavement was slippery, that today of all days was a bad time to risk stopping. But the car braked smoothly to a stop and the five of them ran up and pulled open the doors on the passenger side.
“How far are you going, ma’am?”
“Up the road a few miles. I don’t know exactly.”
An inane response, but it didn’t seem to bother them.
“Anything’s drier than out there,” one said, and they began to pile into the car. I watched them and was surprised to discover that one of them was a girl. They were all dressed alike in jeans and sweatshirts, and at a distance she had just looked like one of the boys. Now, with her long silky hair (soaked by the rain) and her pretty face, there was no mistaking her sex.
The girl and two of the boys got into the back seat. The other two boys sat in front.
“Certainly appreciate this, ma’am.”
“Nice car.”
“A lot drier in here than it is out there.”
“Hey, close the door, Mike.”
And off we went. How far were they going? As far as I was, they assured me. They went to college in New Hampshire and were on their way back to homes in Connecticut and Westchester County. They waited for me to pursue this conversationally, and I didn’t, not being overwhelmingly interested, and then their conversation started up again on its own, between them and excluding me, and I preferred it that way. I could listen to them talk about people and incidents that meant nothing to me, could let my ears take a bath in their conversation, absorbing the feel and texture of it as if it were being conducted in a foreign language, its meaning of no interest to me at all.
I found myself watching them.
In the rear-view mirror, first of all. The girl sat between the two boys, and seemed to be close to the one on her left; he had an arm around her, and periodically drew her over for a kiss. She kissed him in front of the others with no apparent embarrassment, which I thought was nice, and rather sweet and open.
Then the boy on her right said, “My turn, now, Glory,” and she giggled and leaned over and kissed him. It was not a little puppy kiss, either; I could see them in the mirror, and their mouths were open and it looked as though he had his hands on her breasts. They held the kiss for a few moments and then she relaxed again in the first boy’s embrace.
I looked at the two boys on the seat beside me. The one sitting next to the door had a long dark face with sharp features. His hair was dark and moderately shaggy, and he had a beard about two inches wide that swept down from his sideburns to his chin. His neck, cheekbones, and moustache were clean-shaven. The boy next to me had straight blonde hair halfway to his shoulders and no beard. His face was very open and he was cute rather than handsome; he looked like a hip version of David Eisenhower.
I glanced at them in the mirror, and at the boy beside me, and then with as little will and forethought as I had shown in stopping for them in the first place, and even less in the way of good judgment, I took my right hand from the steering wheel and put it in his lap.
He started as if an electric current had passed through his body. Perhaps it had. I put my hand right on his groin and watched him out of the corner of my eye. He turned his head and his eyes met mine. At first his expression was guarded, unsure, and then I turned slightly toward him and let a smile bloom on my lips, and his features relaxed and he smiled in return.
In the rear-view mirror I saw one of the boys petting with the girl while the other was idly patting her thighs and talking about his finals.
I let my fingers play on my new friend’s crotch. He began to rise to the occasion, and when I felt his penis growing in his pants I experienced an overpowering