Menage a Trois Ch. 12

"Okay," I said.

That is when our waitress arrived with breakfast. We both dived into the meal, not wanting to pursue the conversation just ended any further. We had both heard the answer we wanted, or at least thought we wanted for now. So neither of us wanted to push the issue.

As we walked back through the park after breakfast, I returned to the subject. "One more thing, Sandy. When Fiona asked if you were bi, you said you were indifferent to which sex you were screwing. I believe you said, 'It's just sex to me.' Is that always true?"

"Yes, except with you."

"How am I different?"

"Oh god!" she exclaimed. "I'm in love with you. When we have sex there's so much emotion. Sometimes I cry when I cum with you. That doesn't happen with anyone else."

I grabbed her and kissed her hard for a long time. We were right in the middle of Central Park with people walking past us in both directions, but New Yorkers being New Yorkers, everyone ignored us.

When I finally broke the kiss I said, "Let's go back to the apartment. I want to see you cry when I make love to you."

After we made love and slept for a couple of hours we were in the kitchen drinking a glass of white wine, and I asked her about something I had almost forgotten.

"Sandy, you never told me how you lost all your underthings. What was the bet?"

She laughed. "Oh there wasn't a bet. I only took three pairs of panties and two bras with me. I lost the bras and most of the panties on the first day I met Liam. On the last day of our meetings, I pulled my panties off during our lunch break, and when the meeting broke up later in the day, I palmed them to Liam when I shook hands with him, before I left the building."

Later in the day I began work on a painting of Sandy as she had looked while we sat drinking our coffee in Wolf's. The sketch was just her head and shoulders. She was looking at me silently trying to read my mood during our chat about our open marriage, or at least that was my theory of the drawing. When I eventually turned it into a modest-sized pastel, I thought it was stunning. It remains one of my favorite creations and resides on a wall alongside the drawing I did of Sandy standing on a dock with water streaming off her soaked and transparent dress.