Just Like Honey

Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | May 05, 2004

It was one of those balmy spring nights so I threw on my light leather jacket, the kind of jacket you overpaid for and wear maybe ten times a year because there are really only two seasons in New York: winter and summer. We met Nova downtown and shared a cab to the LES, where a party was in progress at a place called People, yet another of the slick lounges that are gradually uprooting my ratty old haunts.

People peopled People, but not our sort of people, so I sat around and made pleasantries and sucked down gin and tonics. A bouncer, spying the three of us together, asked Leslie if we needed a fourth. Not that we were making a show of it, but our arrangement is hard to miss no matter how much it feels to us like the most ordinary thing in the world. And so we’re always on stage. It colors everything we do in public.

“When’s your little friend showing up?” I asked Nova.

“Amber? I don’t know. Soon, probably. You can hook up with her if you want but I’m not going there.” This was Nova’s standard disclaimer regarding Amber—it had come up even before we had been introduced.

I don’t think it would be going too far to say that Amber is stunning, her Scandinavian roots blessing her with a tall, shapely frame and great legs. But like other women who, in heels, stand nearly eye-to-eye with me, she projects an Amazonian awkwardness that probably frightens most men. She and Nova work together. We’d been out drinking with Amber a few times and Mr. Penis had never entered the equation—I unsexed her the way one might an attractive cousin.

“Did I say anything about sex?” I responded indignantly. “I was asking because we need to liven things up around here.”

We all decided to go have a smoke and on the way out someone grabbed my shoulder. It was Amber, nicely made up and dressed in a gauzy black skirt that made her gams appear to go on endlessly. Mr. Penis requested an audience with me, a request I firmly denied. We stood outside chatting, Nova cooing over Amber’s smooth legs. Nova pressed her face to Amber’s chest and laughed. This wasn’t doing anything to help maintain my separation of church and state.

“I’ve always preferred short women,” I said to Amber later on. “I don’t know why.” Nova walked over and hugged me. I placed my right arm around her waist and squeezed. “They’re so cuddly I guess.”

“When’s your boyfriend showing up?” I asked Amber.

Amber sighed. “He’s probably out with his friends. It’s always like that—he’ll go missing for a few days and I won’t even get a call.”

“Well, he’s nuts. I’d be here with you. But you’re keeping your options open I assume.”

“Yes, sort of. I dunno… guys seem to be intimidated by me.”

She invited me out for another smoke and related the sad tale of the neglectful boyfriend.

“I usually prattle on about how people should work things out,” I said, “but I think that’s bullshit. You should either have as much fun as humanly possible or you should find someone who takes you seriously. Everything else is just drama for the sake of drama.”

Les, Nova and I decided to ditch the festivities and make a run for the Hole. I convinced Amber to come along. On the way over she complained about her heels and insisted on a piggyback ride. It must have been a funny sight, me trudging down the block with a towering blonde clinging to my back like a praying mantis. When I finally set the girl down I felt like I was walking on the moon.

A thick pall of smoke hung over the Hole’s dank interior. Saturated with the humidity of evaporated sweat, the thick air was a good 20 degrees hotter than it should have been. We stayed for one drink, long enough for a large dyke to make a pass at me as Leslie chatted up the woman’s pretty girlfriend. I suggested Ludlow Bar, telling Amber it’s where white girls go to pick up black guys. “You know… big black dicks.”

“Big black dicks! Big black dicks!” Amber exclaimed, clapping.

I hadn’t bargained on another piggyback ride—I was beginning to feel like a mule. This time the girls lifted Amber’s skirt and took turns biting her little rump. I reached back and grabbed a handful of bare asscheek.

Ludlow Bar’s windows were covered with newspaper, yet another LES casualty it seemed, so Nova led us to bOb. Once inside the crowded spot I lost track of everyone save Leslie. We held each other and swayed to the music for a little while. I left to scrounge up a beer. After I waded back into the crowd, Corona in hand, I found myself in front of Amber. She took a swig of my beer and we danced; the place was so jammed with people that we were almost on top of each other.

“I’m basically a monogamous person,” she was saying.

“I know you are. This… what we’re doing now… it’s all that matters.”

She pressed herself to me as if on cue, grabbing my waist and wrapping her left leg around me. It was an odd feeling, being held by a tall woman, by someone who was, in some ways, a physical equal. I placed my hands on her body and peered into her Nordic eyes. Neither of us knew what to do next.

And then Nova materialized out of the crowd, breaking the tension. Time to go. We all left the bar and headed up the block to Houston. As we stood on the street corner my eyes followed a pretty lock of hair down the side of Nova’s face to the fertile valley of her cleavage. She reached down her shirt and pulled out a breast, tweaking the nipple for effect. Giggling, Amber did the same. I began to lift my shirt but then remembered I don’t have tits. Nova was OOC—I wanted her to sleep over regardless but she decided to hop the train to Brooklyn, leaving us to split a cab uptown with Amber. “You aren’t going to take her home with you, are you?” Nova asked as she started to walk away. I promised I wouldn’t.

And soon our cab rolled up the avenue, leisurely chasing the changing traffic lights. “I suppose with you two working together it would be… weird.”

Amber nodded and smiled. My left hand found the silky skin of her inner thigh and I began to caress her.

Back home, my head was spinning a bit from the gin.

“I’ll blow you if you play with me,” offered Leslie.

“Okay,” said I.

It was lazy, groggy, married sex—not frenzied and erotic but soothing. Afterward I draped my arm over Leslie’s belly and began to drift off.

And that, right then, was perfect.

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