Triad - 1. Chapter 1

Johnny throws his leg over a barstool and sits. Next to him a stunningly beautiful brunette moves minutely, as if giving him more space, or just adjusting to his presence. He smiles a thanks slightly in her direction and asks the attentive bartender for an iced tea with lemon, no sugar, and an Irish Whiskey, neat, on the side.

Get you something, he asks, speaking towards the brunette.

No, I’ve already got something, she replies.

He shrugs and waits for his drink.

But thanks, the brunette softens her reply.

So, what have you got? he asks.

Well, for one, a husband, and a bourbon sour.

That’s good to know. After a pause, How long?

About two years.

Johnny’s drinks arrive and he takes a sip before turning to face the woman. Her beauty devastates him. Recovering his composure he asks, Would you recommend it to a friend?

I’m very pleased with it, but it’s definitely not a one-size-fits-all kind of thing, she says thoughtfully. If a needy person gets married they will still be needy, so probably disappointed with the whole thing. But even for people who have it together, it can be challenging. What about you?

Single.

Have a steady?

Not right now.

Well, sitting next to me isn’t going to improve your chances here, she says, looking around the bar.

It doesn’t seem to be ruining my chances of talking to you.

But I’m married!

Yeah, but that doesn’t seem to have affected your ability to speak, he tells her, flashing a warm smile.

Of course not silly! By the way, Eva, she says, extending her hand, smitten at the sight of him.

Johnny.

Johnny? That’s a girl’s name.

I guess it is. So is Eva!

I like you, she laughs.

He laughs, and she asks him where he’s from.

Seattle, he tells her; where I’m headed back to.

Oh! she says, you’re just passing through.

Yep.

So, she says after a bit of thought, you’re a total stranger...a handsome total stranger called Johnny, sipping his whiskey, and heading back to Seattle.

He smiles, chasing the whiskey on his tongue with a bit of iced tea.

Since you’re a stranger here I’ll never see you again, so I guess I can ask you things that you might not ask people you know, right? Her eyes seem to search his face for information, or maybe just for its appearance.

And you, he says, turning directly, you’re a smashingly lovely uh….what’s the word, you know…the opposite of a stranger?

What do you mean? she asks.

Well, if I’m a stranger because I’m just passing through, and you’re not passing through, then you are the opposite of that. So, I’d guess you are a, a…, a familiar, that’s the word. And as a familiar you can ask me anything you’d like.

She laughs again, her eyes sparkling pleasure at…at what, he wonders, his company? Probably, more likely, her own presence, the pleasure of her own existence, of just being her. Whatever it is, he likes it, and wants to see more. So what if she’s married, he can be happy just looking at her!

After a sip of her sour she turns to him, her face focused now, somewhat thoughtful. Okay, she says, let me ask you this. Would it turn you on to see…well, first of all, before I ask I have to ask you something else. You’ve had girlfriends, right? I’m sure you have, but…

Yes, he tells her, I’ve had girlfriends.

But not just one-night stands?

No, not just. One for over a year.

And, based on your looks, they had to be pretty girls, right?

Yep, he smiles and shakes his head, looking into her eyes and then at her face, they were all very pretty girls, and some of them were even prettier than that!

She loves the way he speaks, the wit, the enjoyment he gets in forming sentences, ideas, word play, Okay, then, she smiles, did you ever think that it might turn you on to see one of your pretty girlfriends kissing another guy?

He loves the question, it’s such a total surprise. And so exciting. He swivels his barstool, his body facing her directly, an angelic smile on his innocent face. Wow, she thinks, what a beautiful creature. No, he says, I never thought about it, but I can see how, under the right circumstances, it might be exciting. I did see a girlfriend kissing another girl once, and that was amazingly hot, Johnny smiles, a little flushed with the memory.

So what do you mean by ‘under the right circumstances’? she asks

Johnny thinks it over for a second and then tells her to disregard that part of his comment. I should have said, yes, it might be hot. Like when I’d see my girl kidding around at a party with my friends, there were two ways, it seemed to me, it could go. I could get jealous, or I could enjoy their pleasure at each other’s company. My choice, even if it took an effort, was always the latter; I’d rather get a kick out of whatever they were up to than be jealous. I remember a time when we were dogfighting in a pool. You know, when someone gets on someone’s shoulders and they have to knock someone else off someone else’s shoulders?

She nods her understanding, rapt, watching him tell his story.

Well, he continues, I had this girl on my shoulders. We were taking all comers and were unbeaten. Finally, my girlfriend K decided to challenge us by getting onto my best friend’s shoulders. He had this shit-eating grin on his face when our eyes met, like ‘look what I’ve got snuggling up to the back of my head Johnny.’ His strong hands held her calves, his biceps bulged; she gripped his head. There was a jolt bad feeling, but at the same time I saw how hot they looked. My bud’s a stud, muscled and handsome, and she was born to wear a bikini; suddenly it was porn—girlfriend /best-friend porn. I laughed and attacked; letting them think I was indeed jealous. The battle was awesome. My feint confused them and we won. It was a great victory and it pissed K off, only partly because she had wanted to win, but more because she wanted me to be jealous. That night K and I had the best sex ever. The brush with jealousy was invigorating, but the image of my hot girlfriend sitting on my besty’s brawny shoulders was even better. Johnny smiles at the memory.

Coming out of his reverie, he says, I hope that answers your question. Sorry it was such a long reply.

No, she smiles, it was a great reply. But it leads me to another question.

Wow, Johnny laughs, you’ve got a lot of questions, huh?

Oh Johnny, she says, you have no idea! So, she begins, warming up to the next question. The back-story for this question is, well, like when a couple hooks up with another woman the guy always thinks it’s hot to see his woman making out with another woman. Like you just mentioned. And the girls think it’s hot too. Girls are cool doing stuff like that with each other; I think because we like each other and like to look at each other.

Yeah? Johnny asks, draining his whiskey and chasing it with more iced tea.

But guys aren’t that cool with each other, Eva says.

You’re right, Johnny admits, we aren’t. Sometimes we’re downright hostile.

So, Eva asks, do you think it’s because guys don’t like the look of each other like girls do? In your story about the pool battle, it seemed you appreciated your best-friend’s looks, his shoulders, his grin, his biceps.

I think you’re right, Johnny says. It’s harder for us to appreciate each other. Maybe goes back to survival and mating rights, or even before we were human. That kind of competition clouding our ability to appreciate each other.

Eva nods her head. So here’s my question, then she pauses to compose it.

What, Johnny looks at her surprised, I thought you’d asked it already.

No, no, I was just leading up to it.

Oh, Johnny laughs, the whiskey warm in his veins, a huge smile on his angelic face, fire away then.

I’m not sure how to ask as I don’t want an academic answer, so maybe I should use a concrete example, Eva says, looking around. Turning away from Johnny she directs her gaze beyond the opposite side of the U-shaped bar, across the room, to the pool tables. At the pool table closest to us, she says to Johnny, not turning to look at him, there’s a guy, tall, over 6 feet, 25ish, wearing a long-sleeved pullover with a few horizonal stripes near the hem. Do you see him?

Yes, Johnny answers, taking in the sight of a very good-looking pool player and wondering where the hell she is leading him.

What do you say, is he hot?

Wha? Johnny says. Is that your question?

Yes, I want to know how you see other guys. And if I just ask in general you can easily give me the kind of bullshit answer guys are so good at. But if I make you look at a specific guy that will be a lot harder for you to do.

Realizing he’d play any game she’d propose, Johnny nods his head and begins to watch the guy carefully. It seems to him that she’s chosen her subject carefully; it would be hard for anyone—the straightest, hetero, macho man, not to concede that her subject was very good-looking.

Describe, she commands.

Tall, over six feet, Johnny says, and yeah, as he studies the guy, probably mid-twenties.

Is that your age? Eva asks.

Not exactly, Johnny replies, I’m 23.

Go on, she tells him, tell me about his clothing.

He dresses well.

How do you mean?

Nothing in particular: it’s style. He doesn’t need to dress overly much, if you know what I mean; he’s very well-built so he only needs to clothe himself simply and let his body speak for itself.

Hey, Eva interrupts him, you’re good! Describe the clothing.

Johnny goes on, enjoying himself. Well, the pullover is tight, one of those brands that athletic guys wear, but it doesn’t overdo. It’s style again. No need to make it too tight, just enough to entertain the eye with what’s underneath, not to sport a second skin. And he doesn’t wear jeans like the others in here, but slacks, the kind you get in a good store. They say quality and money, and strong legs, all at the same time, but they don’t boast about either the money or the physique. Understated. That’s the guy’s style. I like it.

That’s fascinating. You’re very observant, Eva interjects. Now describe his actions and so on.

Enjoying Eva’s game, he studies his subject closely, gathering information on him as if he had him under a microscope. Well, he says, his posture is outstanding, regal, but not in a way that would lord it over the others around him, and he appears to be very relaxed, like the way he holds his cue stick. But at the same time he seems very intent, Johnny adds, thinking he might be playing for money and wondering if his entire demeanor isn’t contrived to deceive the other player.

What about his body? Eva asks.

Strong shoulders, Johnny adds, and muscular arms, and well-defined pecs, athletic. Johnny makes a face.

What’s that? Eva asks.

Nothing.

See what I meant? Eva asserts.

It’s not that I don’t like looking at him, Johnny explains hesitantly, still looking at his subject, but he’s got that classic broad shoulders/narrow hips thing that everybody goes ga-ga over. Ya gotta hate a guy like that, Johnny laughs. As he watches, the guy leans over the table and sets up for a shot with one muscular leg resting on the table’s edge. The position reveals a perfect, round butt. He makes the shot and when he stands his glowing face is stunningly handsome. Johnny shakes his head. He’s had enough of the Pool Table King and turns to Eva.

Synopsis, Eva demands, as Johnny registers that while he’s been watching his subject, she’s been studying him.

Okay, he’s a very good-looking guy, he avows, and he probably works out a lot. Who knows, maybe he models underwear for a living, but right now I think he’s playing pool for money.

What makes you say that, Eva asks, taken by surprise.

Because he never smiles and even though he’s relaxed, I get the impression he’s controlling himself, being cool with the competition.

Wow, that’s more than I asked for, but you do think he’s good-looking.

Exceptionally so.

Hot?

Yes, that’s easy to say. He’s GQ hot.

So, now, look at me, Eva says.

Johnny turns his face and gazes directly into her eyes. Eva is achingly beautiful, and married, and suddenly he feels that he shouldn’t be looking at her like that. Relax, she commands him, sensing his hesitation, and look at me intently and carefully. He smiles and obliges her and, as his eyes caress her face, his smile broadens. She’s breathtaking; his heart pounds.

Okay, now, at the count of three close your eyes but keep the image of me in your mind. She counts to three and Johnny does as he’s told.

Now. Keep them closed.

Yes Ma’am, Johnny replies with a nervous laugh.

I want you to image that guy at the pool table kissing me.

Johnny takes a sudden breath. Wow, he says, what crazy games you play.

Shh, she says. Focus.

She looks at his handsome face, his pale brown lashes, the set of his shoulders, his muscular thighs, the bulge where they meet.

You got the image? she asks him.

Yes, he barely whispers, his mind lost in it, his body tingling with pleasure, as if he’d been kissing her himself. His cock stiffening.

How’s it look? she asks, her eyes travelling from his handsome face to his crotch.

The big smile on his face is his reply.

So where are we?

Who?

That guy and I. Where are we in your imaginary vision?

Hadn’t thought of it. Where would you like to be?

Naked and in bed, Eva replies.

Johnny moans. His head rolls like someone who is high.

Can you picture that?

Johnny’s breathing changes.

The bartender comes by, but when he sees the look on Eva’s face and Johnny’s closed eyes he shrugs and walks away.

So what’s he doing to me?

Trembling but spellbound, Johnny describes the scene. He’s kissing you. His powerful body rolls you onto your back and…

I like it, Eva smiles, Now get on the bed with us.

I can’t do that!

You can. It’s just imaginary.

Let me open my eyes, Johnny begs.

Not yet.

Johnny can barely breathe.

How’s it look? Eva asks.

Sooooo hot, Johnny replies, drawing out the word sensuously. You two would make a beautiful couple.

Thanks, she smiles, and you make an erotic figure on a bar stool.

He blushes.

Before he can reply his reverie is broken by a man’s voice right next to him.

You like what you see?

He opens his eyes. The GQ pool player is standing beside him talking to Eva.

Johnny’s look is priceless and Eva bursts out laughing.

Oh gosh Manik! She scolds, you interrupted us.

So they know each other, Johnny says to himself.

Interrupted? I interrupted? What were you doing? Talking religion? Having virtual sex?

A bit of each, she replies with a laugh, watching Johnny, whose face turns pink, a condition that darkens to red when Manik extends his hand and introduces himself as Eva’s husband.

Johnny, his boner on full display, has to rotate his barstool to return the handshake. Eva, speaking into the awkward silence, tells Manik that her friend’s name is Johnny.

Well Johnny, Manik says, drawing out his name sarcastically as he shakes the red-faced young man’s hand, I’d stick to the sex. She knows nothing about God.

Johnny, his hand in Manik’s, laughs nervously. Hoping to extricate himself as quickly as possible from the embarrassing situation, he starts to get up as he offers him the seat so he can sit next to his wife.

Not at all, Manik says. Putting a firm hand on his shoulder he leans intimately close and says, You stay right there. Eva and I are leaving anyway. I’m taking my wife down the road a bit to where they play sexy music and couples dance real slow without the neighbors talking.

Johnny notices Manik’s utter composure, the strong hand on his shoulder, his relaxed posture. He’s holding me just like his cue stick, Johnny says to himself, I wonder if he’s acting, or is this the real Manik?

Oh! Eva’s voice interrupts his thoughts, We’re going out to dance? So you must have won?

Yeah baby, Manik smiles as nice a smile as Johnny has ever seen, his teeth so perfect they might have been made by a jeweler, while erotic images of him kissing Eva still run through his head. I won a fiver.

Johnny looks at Eva with an I-told-you-so on his face. Eva, annoyed, returns the look with a how-the-hell-could-you-have-seen-that face. Manik looks from one to the other, confused. Finally he says, Hey, don’t start talking about God again, right here in front of me. Show a little respect, we’re married!

At this Johnny can’t help but laugh. He looks down at Manik’s hand still resting on his shoulder and then up at Manik’s handsome face and says, Genuinely, I’m sorry, I…

Nah, Manik dismisses the apology and with an accusatory look at his wife adds, Not necessary. And hardly all your fault, I’m sure.

You know honey, Eva pipes in, Johnny told me you’re hot and look like an underwear model.

Now Johnny’s face turns crimson again. He stares at Eva in disbelief, as Manik tells her sarcastically that he doubts Johnny volunteered this opinion out of the blue. Then, looking him up and down and giving the shoulder in his grip an appraising squeeze, he tells Eva, You just go tell your handsome Johnny that I could say the same of him. And that I didn’t need you to prompt me to say it. With a firm slap on Johnny’s back he removes his hand and says to his wife, Now let’s go dancing.

But when Eva looks at her husband and then back at Johnny, he shrugs and tells her to bring her new friend along if she’s so attached to him. There’s always girls there looking for a dance partner. Turning to Johnny he asks, You do dance with girls now, do you, I mean when you’re not ogling male underwear models?

Come, Eva says to Johnny, taking his hand before he can respond to Manik’s taunt. I’d love it, but I should warn you on a Monday night there may not be many girls there, so if you want to hook-up, you might be better off staying here.

Manik, considering this, says, if there are no partners, he can have a dance with you. How’s that?

Can we dance dirty? Eva asks with a petulant smile.

You can dance as dirty with him as you do with me. How’s that? Sticking his face into Eva’s he moves in for a kiss as he wonders what the hell made him say that!

They’re kissing right in front of me, Johnny muses, just like they did in my imagination a few minutes ago. And she & I can dance dirty? I must be dreaming.

When Manik lets Eva go and turns towards the exit, she gives Johnny a dreamy smile, as if asking if it was as good for him as it was for her. He doesn’t answer, but indeed it was.

You two are weird, Manik says, eyeing them over his shoulder as he leads them out.