“I know that.” He smiled, sliding her chair a little closer, so their hips were touching. “But that never stopped us from having fun before.”
“That was in college.” She knew what he was talking about. Of course she did. But their foray into threesomes and seeing other people had been brief and they’d been totally monogamous since they’d taken their wedding vows. Not that Doc hadn’t mentioned other people before, and they’d both fantasized, of course, and had even shared those fantasies with each other.
But they’d been happy enough without literally bringing other people into their relationship-why was he bringing this up now? She glanced at him, wondering if it was the booze. Or maybe he really was bored? That thought terrified her. She wanted to be enough for him. He was certainly more than enough for her.
And she’d never taken him up on his offer of being with another woman after they’d gotten married, even though he’d been very open about it. “Whenever you want-even without me,” he’d assured her. It was true, she’d always been attracted to women as well as men-and her affair with Maureen, her roommate and best friend in Boston, had been proof enough of that. They’d even included Doc in their little tete-a-tete, making it a true menage a trois. That was, until Maureen had taken Jesus Christ as her personal Lord and Savior and had married a fundamental Christian.
Maybe it had been the messy way things had ended with Maureen that had put her off from trying it again. But the truth was, she was happy with her Doc. She didn’t need anything or anyone else, she reasoned. He was her whole world.
Carrie waved at Daphne as she came out of the bathroom. The girl was dressed for a man-hunt, her red hair a river of lava over the black material of her blouse, which was completely see-through. Her black bra underneath was lacy and showed a lot of cleavage. Her red skirt was short, trimmed in black lace at the hem. And as far as Carrie could tell, she wasn’t wearing any stockings or hose. It made her wonder if her friend had worn those sexy red panties.
Doc leaned over, reminding her, “Hey, we’re still in college.”
“Graduate school doesn’t count.” Carrie pulled out a chair as Daphne approached.
Doc chuckled. “Experimenting ends with an undergraduate diploma? No one told me.”
“Stop.” Carrie poked him in the ribs, smiling as Daphne took a seat in front of the rum and Coke Doc had brought for her. “So, girlie, see anything you like?”
The redhead smiled, her gaze sweeping over Doc, their eyes meeting briefly, before shifting out onto the dance floor. The residents’ Christmas party was a big affair and included interns and other hospital staff as well. They held it at a country club every year, the same country club most of the residents would someday probably belong to, if they stayed and practiced as doctors there.
“Lots of potential,” Daphne mused, sipping her drink. “But I’m picky.”
“You can afford to be.” Doc winked as he paid her the compliment, standing and picking up his glass. “I’m gonna get myself another shot. Anyone want anything?”
“Hey, who’s driving home?” Carrie inquired, tugging on his suit coat as he passed.
“Wilson.” Doc nodded toward the bar. “He’s the teetotaler.”
“Who’s Wilson?” Daphne asked, following his gaze.
“Come on.” Doc held out his hand. “I’ll introduce you.”
“No, Daph, come dance with me first.” Carrie was as surprised as anyone else at the words out of her mouth, but she had Daphne’s other hand in hers and was pulling her friend toward the dance floor before Doc could verbally protest. But he did raise his eyebrows at the sight of them putting their arms around each other and grinding to the music.
“Who’s Wilson?” Daphne asked again as they moved together. Carrie felt a stirring in her groin as her friend wrapped her silky arms around her neck. The smell of her perfume was heady, and the feel of her body, all softness and curves, brought back memories that made her knees tremble.
“See the guy with the ponytail, talking to Doc?” Carrie’s hands went to her friend’s waist. The black material of her blouse moved over the silken skin underneath and she found herself thinking about those red panties again. “That’s Wilson. See that blond over there? The one dancing?”
Daphne craned her neck. “The green dress?”
Carrie nodded. “That’s his ex. She’s a resident here too.”
“She looks like a ballbuster.” Daphne smirked, her hips moving to Prince’s Little Red Corvette as if they had a mind of their own.
“She dumped him for that guy she’s with.”
“The Ken doll?” Daphne made a face at the tall, blond Adonis that Camille was dancing with. “Why’d they break up?”
“He told her he wanted kids some day.”
“Oh.” Daphne nodded sagely. “She didn’t?”
“Oh no, she did.” Carrie moved her mouth closer to the shell of Daphne’s ear. “She just said she didn’t want him to be their father.”
“Oh my god.” Daphne pulled back, all wide-eyes.
“Yeah.” Carrie glared in Camille’s direction. “Said she was looking for better genetic material.”
“What’s wrong with Wilson?” Daphne glanced back to the bar where Doc and Wilson were talking about something, laughing together.
“Nothing. He’s brilliant. Top of his class.”
“Ahead of Doc?”
Carrie smirked. “Tied.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Well.” Carrie shrugged. “Look at him.”
“What? I think he’s kind of cute.”
“If you can get past the piercings,” she reminded her. “And the tattoos.”
Daphne’s eyes brightened. “He has tattoos?”
“Several.”
“Where?”
Carrie couldn’t help laughing at her friend’s enthusiasm. “I’m sure he’d be happy to show you.”
“Come on, let’s go back.” Daphne practically pulled her to their table where Doc and Wilson were now sitting.
Doc was quick to make their introductions. “Wilson, this is our friend, Daphne.”
“Hi.” Wilson nodded. “Daphne. That’s an unusual name.”
“So’s Wilson.” She slid into the seat beside him, next to Carrie.
“It’s my last,” he admitted. “But it’s better than my first.” He turned to her, that curious Wilson look on his face. Carrie knew it well. “So were you named after Daphne Odjig?”
“The artist?” The redhead rolled her eyes, but Carrie saw the spark in Wilson’s at her recognition of the name. How many people knew Daphne Odjig? Maybe it was a match made in heaven after all. “I wish. My parents were far less cultured. I was named after the Scooby-Doo character.”
Wilson laughed. “Well it’s still better than being named after a dead philosopher.”
“Socrates?” Daphne guessed.
“Nope.”
“Plato?”
Wilson shook his head. “Aristotle.”
Daphne’s eyes went wide. “My apologies.”
“That’s why they call me Wilson.” He took a sip of his Coke, smiling around the straw.
“So I hear you’re the designated driver?” Daphne asked.
“I don’t drink,” he told her. “It’s more fun to watch other people get drunk.”
Daphne lifted her rum and Coke to him. “Well then you’re in for a treat tonight.”
“Cheers.” Wilson laughed and they clinked glasses and Carrie watched them, feeling a lump growing in her throat and a tight ball of fire in her belly. She knew the feeling immediately, although it surprised her beyond words. She was actually jealous.
“Dance with me.” Doc pulled her into his arms on the floor, leaving Wilson and Daphne alone at the table. It was a slow song and they swayed together, quiet. Finally, Doc leaned over and whispered, “You can have her.”
Carrie startled, raising her gaze to his. “What are you talking about?”
“Green isn’t your color.” He pulled her closer, nuzzling his face against her hair. “Don’t tell me you’re not. I know that look. You’re jealous.”
“I am-” Not, she thought, but she couldn’t say it, because she knew he was right. “Does it really matter?”