“I know.”
I thought of something and smiled. “Wren, 1. Paul, 1.”
“It isn’t a game,” she said. “Remember? It’s real people with real feelings. I could’ve sworn someone told me that once.”
“Ha! Yeah, you got me.”
She smiled, and I gave her a hug. After a moment she sighed and relaxed for real.
“I’ve missed this too,” she said.
We held each other in silence, until I had an idea. She felt it and looked up.
“Do we have time before we need to start cooking?” I asked.
“A little. Why?” Her eyes widened. “Seriously? What about Trip? And Christy?”
“What about them?” I grinned. “They aren’t here. Besides, we’ll tell them later.”
“Okay, then what about Brooke?”
“Do you wanna do this or not?”
She caught my semi-hard cock and squeezed gently. “What do you think?”
I guided her toward the corner. No one could see us from outside.
“What if we get caught?” Wren teased, although she didn’t let go of my dick.
“We’ll tell them we’re marinating the sausage.”
She snorted a laugh that turned into a sigh when I teased her nipple. I leaned down to kiss her, and she responded with sudden passion.
“We have to make it quick,” she panted.
I spun her around and bent her over the counter.
“But don’t come inside me.”
I teased her pussy with the head of my cock. She was already wet and ready.
“Your wish—”
“Just shut up and— Ah!” She braced herself on the countertop, and her shoulders heaved as she caught her breath.
“I’m sorry… you were saying?”
“Fuck me?”
“My pleasure.”
* * *
Wren set the platter of swordfish steaks on the table, and I followed with bowls of risotto and sautéed spinach.
“We’re eating family style,” she explained.
Christy and Trip looked relaxed and comfortable. Brooke was trying to do the same, but she hadn’t adjusted to being nude in front of new people. I didn’t want to make her even more uncomfortable, so I didn’t stare, although I didn’t cover my eyes, either.
Her full, firm breasts were mostly tan, with very faint lines where she occasionally wore a bikini top. Her nipples were normally pale pink, but they had tanned as well. Now they matched her freckles rather than her lips.
She shifted in her seat, re-crossed her legs, and turned toward me. My eyes automatically went to her shaved pussy. It was much paler than the rest of her, since she sunbathed topless instead of completely nude. The darker line of her slit peeked from between her thighs, and my dick gave a hopeful twitch.
I pulled out the chair next to her and slid into it. Then I used my napkin to draw her attention to my lap. My penis had begun to grow, and I deliberately adjusted it. I didn’t expect her to swoon at the sight, but it was a pointed reminder of what I wanted to do to her.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I added in a low voice.
“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I can tell.”
“What, him?” I joked. “He has a mind of his own. But he’s glad too. Obviously.”
Her perfect pink lips curved in a smile.
“Sorry it took so long,” Wren was saying. “We had a problem with the risotto.”
At that point I stopped flirting with Brooke and had to bite my tongue instead. Dinner was late because Wren hadn’t been satisfied after she’d come the first time. She’d started to suck me off but had changed her mind. She’d told me to get down on the floor instead.
“Now. I wanna ride you. Don’t even say it. Just shut up and sit down, before someone comes in. Thank you! Was that so hard? Oh, God, that’s good. Now, play with my tits, pinch my nipples.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes, chef.”
“Whatever.”
Her second orgasm had been more intense than the first. It had left her panting and weak, although she’d recovered after a couple of minutes.
“Did you come?”
“No. You told me not to.”
She had kissed me then, serious and playful at the same time. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
“A couple of times. And I love you. But—”
“Stand up. I’ll suck you off.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes, chef. Hurry up. We need to start cooking. But first, you have some cream I want.”
I smiled at the memory and returned my attention to the present.
“We had to make it again,” Wren was telling the others.
I suppressed another grin. We’d only made one batch of risotto, but it was a believable lie to explain why we’d been late. The double entendre was just a bonus.
“The second time was much better,” she finished.
“It was,” I agreed.
“Much creamier. The first batch was pretty good,” she added, for my benefit more than the others, “but I wanted everything to be perfect, especially tonight.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Trip said.
“Oh, it is. Paul’s really good in the kitchen.”
“So you’ll keep me?” I teased.
“As long as you do what I tell you.”
“What’m I supposed to say? Yes, chef?”
“Maybe you should give him a raise,” Christy suggested.
“I dunno,” Trip joked, “he forgot the wine.”
“Ah-ah,” Wren cut in. “I’m the only one who can criticize him. He’s my sous. Besides, his hands were full.”
“Thank you, chef,” I said.
Christy grinned. “Do you know what ‘chef’ means? In French?”
“Slave driver?”
“Boss.”
“Ha! All right. So, I have two bosses, one in the kitchen and one in bed.”
“Don’t forget me,” Trip said. “I’m your boss too.”
“Dude, you’re my partner. Unless you wanna try catching instead of pitching.”
“No thanks!”
“Yeah, same here. Now, let’s eat.”
“You still forgot the wine,” he said.
“But I took care of the important things.”
“You did,” Wren said with aplomb. “I’ll fetch the wine. You start serving.”
“Yes, chef.”
She grinned. “I could get used to this.”
* * *
Dinner was delicious, of course, although I was especially proud of the risotto. It wasn’t my only contribution, but it was the only one I could brag about. Besides, Wren had done most of the work, with dinner and her attitude.
Even better, her good mood was infectious. Christy smiled and laughed and enjoyed herself, while Trip was the perfect gentleman. He fetched more wine when we needed it and was on his best behavior the rest of the time, which did more for his cause than he realized.
Brooke eventually relaxed and started to enjoy herself, especially when she realized we weren’t planning an orgy for dessert.
“I told you,” Christy whispered to her. “Most of the time it’s just normal.”
“I know. You were right. As always.”
Christy smiled and caught my eye. She didn’t actually look at the wine bottle, but her mind control worked anyway. I filled her glass and then emptied the bottle into Brooke’s, which almost overflowed.
She laughed nervously. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Yes,” Christy told her. “Drink up.”
Wren raised her own glass to offer a toast. Brooke did the same after a quick sip to make sure it wouldn’t spill.
“To friends,” Wren said, “old and new.”
“And sharing a girlfriend,” I added.
Christy smiled bashfully and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Hear, hear,” Trip agreed.
We drank.
“So,” Wren asked, “are we ready for dessert?”
Brooke grinned. “Strawberries?”
I snorted a laugh at Christy’s expression.
“No,” Wren said, a little confused. “Italian cream cake.”
Christy recovered her composure, but not before Brooke answered for her.
“Sounds delicious.”
“Will you give me a hand, sweetheart?” Wren asked.