Close Friends Get Closer

I.

Alan and Virginia walk through the cold, wrapped tight in their winter coats, making their way for a friend's apartment for a New Year's party. They walk without speaking, their feet clicking on the frozen sidewalk. They reach the building, ring the buzzer, and find themselves in a mass of friends from the past, many of whom they have lost contact. Alan looks at Virginia and smiles, content for the first time in weeks. She smiles back with some effort, and he feels the anxiety release his heart. Just then, a face previously lost to history surfaces and approaches Alan, gripping his shoulder.

"Alan Harrison, my man," he says, holding out his hand.

"Ken," Alan says, shaking his friend's hand. "You remember my fiancée, Virginia?"

"How could I forget?" Ken says, grinning. "How are you?" he asks Virginia, holding his hand out for her.

"Fine," she says, accepting his hand.

"Hey, Natasha," he says into the crowd, over the surround sound stereo of the apartment, waving a woman over from the other side of the room.

A woman in her early thirties, tall and slender with a shapely body, strawberry blonde and attractive, sees Ken and smiles, excusing herself from her conversation with three hipster editors from New York's most popular magazines before walking over, smiling excitedly.

"Natasha, this is my old friend, Alan Harrison," Ken says with an arm around her waist. "I'm not sure if I ever mentioned him, but we went to school together."

"You have, actually," Natasha says in a thick Russian accent, flashing a smile at Alan as she extends her hand. "How do you do?"

"Good, good," Alan says modestly.

"This is Alan's fiancée, Virginia. We all went to school together, actually," Ken explains.

"It's been a long time," Virginia says.

"Not too long," Ken says, smiling.

"Ken is very fond of his college years," Natasha says, lifting a champagne flute to her lips and drinking its contents.

"Well," Alan says, clapping his hands together, "A New Year's spent in celebration of our history."

"Good man," Ken says, patting Alan on the back.

They all laugh as the owner of the apartment enters the group.

"Mr. Harrison," he says, opening his arms for a hug.

"Michael," Alan says joyously, embracing his friend. "We just got in."

"I see that," Michael says, releasing him. "Mrs. to-be Harrison," he says, shifting his attention to Virginia and opening his arms for another hug.

"Hello, Michael," she says, pressured into a hug that he obviously enjoys more, pulling her tight and holding on to her. "Nice to see you," he says casually when he pulls away.

"Likewise," she says, distant.

Michael shows the group around the apartment and they all catch up on each other's lives since the Grad school years. Ken has published three best selling successes, his first while still in school, and is working on his fourth. Natasha is a highly sought after model with increasing appearances in magazines and at fashion shows. Virginia admits her unemployment. Alan tells of his position at Garden High, which he suddenly reflects with regret, feeling a notch above unemployed. Throughout the night, they consume much alcohol and behave accordingly. Alan is too drawn into his company to notice Virginia's nervous stare, removed to the point of being undetectable. Alan listens to tales of Ken's publishing experiences with admiration, though contempt burns beneath his skin. Natasha is a perfect accessory for Ken, as she stands beside him with a pleasant, permanent smile, a contrast to Virginia that no one seems to notice. Excitement gathers in the apartment when the ball is about to drop, and the crowd explodes when it does. In the midst of the commotion, Natasha gives Alan a supposed celebratory kiss on the lips, and Ken pulls Virginia in for an embrace, clutching her buttocks. This happens so instantly and unexpectedly that neither Alan or Virginia know how to react, but the energy of the party and flow of champagne drain away the need for a reaction in the first place.

II.

Alan studies Ken's living room with awe, having been persuaded by Ken and Natasha at the end of Michael's party to accompany them by taxi to their new house in Valley Rise, as both he and Virginia are well over the legal blood alcohol limit for driving. He has heard countless tales of success tonight among his old peers, which has made him question the worth of his own career, which is leagues below the level of his dreams, a level of which Ken has attained with seemingly no effort. He has thought very little of Natasha's modeling success, however, finding little respect for high public response over attractive faces, which makes Virginia's unemployment, her lack of use for her Master's degree in psychology, seem less tedious, especially since Natasha's beauty does not outshine that of Virginia, his own fiancée. Alan finishes scanning entire walls' worth of bookshelves and sets his attention on Ken, who sits across from him at the glass

table, each of their significant others at their respective sides.

"This place is amazing," Alan says. "Things have really worked out for you, Ken," he adds, nodding respectfully.

"I just wouldn't take 'no,'" Ken says. "That's all there is to it."

"Why have you not published something of your own?" Natasha asks. "As I recall, Ken has said wonderful things about your work since the school days. He claimed he really had a run for his money."

"I could never catch up," Alan confesses. "I used to write short stories here and there, but I never finished any big work."

"I'm telling you, you have it in you," Ken assures him.

"You know," Alan begins, laughing, "There was this one idea I had. If I followed through with it, I wouldn't be teaching high school students, but I also might have gone insane."

"What?" Ken says, narrowing in on Alan. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. To me, books are ideas that require a human mind to unearth and embody. Some ideas are too strong for an individual to handle, and it gets lost. That's what happened to me and my unborn career."

"I think you just need to relax," Ken says. "You stand too close to your own personal morals and fear going across the grain. You've always been conscious of how you feel people will perceive your work, the reflection of your mind. You can't tell me that you weren't hungry before. And where would that hunger go?"

Alan sits silently in his chair and sips from a glass of ice water resting on the table in front of him.

"May I use the restroom?" he says, rising from his chair.

"Natasha, would you be as lovely as to show him the way?" Ken says, adjusting his position in his chair.

"Gladly," Natasha says, smiling as she stands.

Alan follows her shakily across the living room, past the kitchen, and into a corridor, gesturing to an open door on the right hand side of the hall.

"I'll wait outside for you," she says, her smile sparkling.

Alan relieves his bladder and splashes water onto his face, thinking to himself for a moment as he stares at his reflection in the vanity mirror. In the living room, Ken studies Virginia during their seclusion, drinking her rich features with his eyes.

"Are you cold?" he asks, noticing her heavy winter coat, remembering the body beneath.

"No."

"Do you want me to take your coat?" he asks, rising from his chair.

She stands and removes her coat. Ken sees her body contained in her black dress, buttoned to the top, a circle cut out of the fabric to reveal her chest, and feels his body react.

"Follow me," he says, leading her to a closet on the other side of the room. "Open the door," he says, standing behind her.

She obeys and stands still.

"Drop the coat," he says, studying her exposed back, the contours of her shoulders.

She drops the coat and waits.

"Pick it up," he says, grinning broadly.

She delays and bends over slowly. Ken walks behind her and grabs her sides, pulling her back end into his crotch by her shoulders, the bone structure he has always admired. She gasps but says nothing as he pulls her upright and glides his hands up her tight stomach, over her full breasts, his fingertips touching the skin.

"Remember the old days?" he says, his instincts outweighing his lack of substance-drained inhibitions as he kisses her neck softly, touching her skin with his tongue. "Remember?" he repeats, squeezing her breasts and running his hands in soft circles.

"Yes," she whispers, breathing deeply.

"You always were something special," he says, feeling his penis harden against her back. "Unlike Alan, you never had any limits."

"I try."

"But it's not good enough, is it? Don't you love being fucked?"

"Yes," she whispers, her body shivering.

"You always will."

"Yes," she repeats, eyes locked shut.

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?" she whispers.

"Tell me you miss me fucking you like an animal."

"I miss it," she gasps, losing herself.

"Tell me," he repeats.

"I miss you fucking me like an animal," she manages, moaning softly.

Ken guides her hand to his crotch, and she caresses his penis behind her back. In the bathroom, Alan finishes drying his face and opens the door, finding Natasha waiting loyally for him in the hall.

"Feeling better, handsome?" she asks.

"Yes, thank you."

She walks slowly toward him at the doorway and places her hands gently on his sides, tilting her head to the side to let her hair fall to the side.

"It is not so difficult to publish," she says.

"It's not the publishing, it's the writing," he explains.

"So you need some inspiration," she says, gliding her hands over his back as she wraps her arms around him, locked in place as she pulls her face away to examine his.

"What are we doing?" he asks, standing stiffly with his hands hanging by his sides.

"Hold me," she says, resting her face on his right shoulder.

He does and closes his eyes, feeling her round face against him, sensing her long, thin neck, the exposed collarbones, the healthy breasts resting on her chest below, pressing into him. He feels the weight of the alcohol push against his conscious, as he can't help but accept this invited embrace. All he can do is try not to enjoy it, of which he finds almost impossibly difficult. She purrs gently, and he imagines the smile.

"Do you feel a little better?" she asks, pulling her upper body away from him, her hands still clutching his back.

"Yes," he says, less in control than he expects.

"Good," she says, her hair swaying as she cocks her head again. "You know, Ken would want anything for you that would make you relax. He does think of you, as he never forgets the past, never falls short of his respects."

Alan listens and becomes lost in the woman before him, unable to resist her exotic beauty, the suggestive sensuality blended into her thick accent.

"What are you saying?" he asks weakly.

"Do you wish to kiss me, handsome?"

"Yes," he says, caving to the alcohol.

"Do it," she says, smiling daringly.

He hesitates and stares at her. She sees the reluctance in his eyes.

"Ken wanted this to happen," she whispers. "He wanted it when he heard that you and Virginia were coming to Michael's party. I want it now. He is with your fiancée as we speak," she continues, the accent rumbling through her voice. "Now, kiss me, handsome. Kiss me."

Alan pulls her in and presses his lips against hers, kissing her hard as he finds her tongue. She pulls his hands onto her buttocks and feels the intensity squirm in their embrace, the second of the night, the first aware.

"Follow me," she says softly, pulling away from him.

He follows her back the way they came into the living room, where he finds Virginia on her knees in front of where Ken sits on a couch, his penis forced down her throat with a helping hand wrapped in her dirty blonde hair. She looks up at Alan and he sees the sexual fury in her eyes, an insatiable stare. She wipes the saliva from her lips as Natasha kneels beside her. Virginia looks at Natasha and moves to her left so that Natasha can stroke her husband.

"Sit beside Ken," Natasha instructs Alan, who stares absently at the spectacle, full of dread and excitement at once.

Alan obeys and sinks into the luxurious black leather couch beside his friend, speechless. Natasha leans over and kisses Virginia while also gliding her free hand over Alan's still-erect crotch, pulling down the zipper of his slacks.

"Do you want to stop?" Virginia asks him timidly.

"No," Alan manages, surprised with his own answer.

"Tell me if you do," she reassures him.

"Okay," he says as Natasha withdraws his penis and strokes with strong but sensitive motions.

Natasha stands and guides Virginia by her shoulders to kneel in front of her husband.

"Suck his cock," she says, her voice grown colder.

She watches with satisfaction as Virginia engulfs the length of her husband's penis and smiles approvingly before gracefully kneeling in front of Alan.

"How about you?" she asks him, her eyes frozen as she resumes stroking. "Do you want me to swallow your cock?"

"Yes," Alan says, closing his eyes and sinking into the couch as he feels Natasha's full, glossed lips glide over his penis, now painfully hard.

He is now disconnected from his mind, feeling both unfaithful and betrayed, his body and hormones obsessed with Natasha's actions. Suddenly he feels her lips leave him and he opens his eyes to find her rise to her feet. She lowers her sheer underwear and climbs on top of him.

"Do you want to fuck me now?" she says, her voice even harder.

Alan looks down at Virginia helplessly.

"Fuck her," Virginia whispers, nearly begs, when she pulls her mouth away from Ken's penis, stroking him as she stops to speak. "Fuck her for me."

Alan looks up at Natasha and she reads the obvious answer in his eyes. She smiles and lifts her short burgundy dress while still stroking his penis, still wet with her saliva. She lowers herself to him, and eases him inside, breathing hard. Excited beyond return, she begins bouncing on top of him. Alan stares at Virginia as she sucks on Ken, their eyes connected through the freedom. Alan thrusts harder into Natasha, gripping her buttocks, and Virginia accepts Ken with increasingly maniacal enthusiasm, but they never break their stare from each other.

"Look at me," Natasha hisses. "Do you like fucking me?"

"Yes," Alan says through his gasping breath.

"Then look only at me. I am your slut tonight, and your fiancée is my husband's whore. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Alan moans and stares at Natasha, at her breasts weighing down the fabric of her dress, revealing deep cleavage.

"Are you my whore?" Alan hears Ken ask Virginia through his excitement with Natasha.

"Yes," he hears Virginia say as she herself glides over Ken, mirroring Natasha's actions.

"It's been so long," Ken says, pumping into Virginia, who screams with the impact. "Those days before Alan," he moans, now plowing into her.

"Fuck me," she screams at Ken, now even more disconnected than Alan from all semblance of the world they have created together. "Fuck me all night," she squeals over the fury of their bodies, eventually providing more work than Ken as she devours his anatomy, more powerfully developed than she remembered from before.

Alan listens to this exchange, his penis throbbing, and tries to grind deeper into Natasha, but feels inadequate compared to her husband, who has successfully extracted a storm of screams from his obviously satisfied fiancée, dominating her soul in these fleeting moments.