Unconventional

Accidently, I seem to have caught a bit of a stupid thought. I was just thinking about nuding up for a quick dip in the pool while the girls are out when personal grooming hit me straight in the mental mitt. Should I trim? Shave? Well clearly, I need to shave my face. Trish hates pash rash. But downstairs? What's etiquette for pube presentation these days? Usually, I run a number 4 clipper through the forest to trim the timber but...

Eventually I realise I'm making this into a bigger problem than it really needs to be, so deciding I'll just go with my usual coiffure I head upstairs for a shower. For some reason I'm really nervous, like I'm going on a first date or something. In a strange way I guess it is. But it'll be the first, first date that I've been on where sex is on the table before the date.

What if Jackie gets cold feet? I make a personal note to have a conversation with both women as soon as they get home and put down some ground rules about consent and desire. Any one of us needs to be able to stop everything if it starts feeling wrong.

As I'm having this wonderfully appropriate and responsible thought it occurs to me that I'm actually getting excited. Both the butterflies building in my stomach and the lump tenting my undies. Jackie really does have quite a nice little body. She strikes me as similar to what Trish looked like when we first met. Suddenly, I'm replaying the pool mattress moment and decide I need that shower to try and cool down.

Why is it that the parts that like getting washed the most are the ones that get the least dirty? While soaping my semi-hard dick, I wonder if I should have a pre-date wank as dictated by youthful dating rules. Deciding against it, I stop thinking about Jackie's little bikini flash game and fuck; I realise suddenly that I'm objectifying her. Well, fantasizing. Well fuck, I can't find any nice way to say I'm relishing the idea of having sex with my wife's beautiful little sister. I really need to get a grip. No! Not that grip, I tell myself and unhand my soapy boner.

Towelling off, I get something of a romantic thought parallel to the sexual. This is a big thing. A big thing for both women and a big thing for me. I've never taken anyone's virginity. Well, no-one has ever had one to offer it to me. Trish and I had both... with other people and... do I mark the occasion? Fuck. I wish I'd had something like this I could remember fondly. I want to mark the occasion. I want Jackie to remember it as... What? I ask myself. As what?

That's how I end up shopping. Fuck it I have two hours to kill before they get home and there is a mall up the road, just a walk from home. The mall has a florist and a bottle shop. So, I take advantage of them. Then a jewellery store catches my eye.

The jeweller watches me strangely. I think she thinks I'm a thief or a creepy browser. Dressed in my old rugby jersey that I threw on and some daggy shorts and thongs I look a bit like a dero as I inspect things I should not even think of buying. Fucking credit cards and their ability to convince me that this is actually a good idea.

I want something for Trish to communicate my love for her. The depth of it seems to be reflected in the price tags. I'm not a rich man. I'm competent with money and we are paying off our home, have nice cars and don't fret over bills but holy shit, some of these trinkets are frighteningly expensive.

She loves pink. There are earings; pearl above and pink sapphire dangling a little lower. Three hundred and ninety-nine dollars' worth. Should I? We're usually fairly reserved with gift giving but this night feels precipitous and pregnant with possibilities. Nodding to myself, I start thinking of Jackie.

I want something to show her how much I treasure the gift she is offering me. Not the silly hymen. She probably doesn't even have much of a hymen left, I tell myself; all of that horse riding. A horsey looking charm stares at me but it looks like 'little Jackie'. Some kind of kid bracelet thing and this is her womanhood. God I'm feeling a little emotional just thinking about it all.

The jeweller approaches...

"Can I assist?"

"Oh god, I have no idea."

"So Sir, tell me who is it for?"

See, that's just the thing. I can't really outline the details of that. "I want a memoire for my sister in law to remember giving me her virginity."

So, I go with, "Someone special to me who is taking a huge step into the future and I want her to remember I love her."

"Jesus." Chuffs the jeweller, "So specific and emotional. Most men are like, 'ah I dunno, maybe something cheap for the missus'." Chuckling to herself she asks, "Budget?"

I shrug and say, "sub five hundred. Thereabouts anyway."

"Romantic or family?"

Fuck. Got me there. "Romantic please."

"Hmmm. You browse, I'll think and look." She's pretty I notice. I guess that helps with sales. Well, not pretty so much as very well groomed. Not as pretty as... Why am I even... God, I'm thinking about Jackie's little bikini and comparing her lithe teenage body to this poor lovely lady while I'm shopping. Then I'm thinking about Trish's lush body. Fuck I can't think with a hardon.

Then suddenly I spy an infinity ring.

It's white gold. White gold with small blue sapphires the same colour as Jackie's eyes set around the perimeter of the infinity symbol. It's delicate looking, not chunky or gaudy but classy. Like a schoolboy, I raise my hand for the jeweller's attention. Suddenly, in my mind I know it is the perfect gift and symbolises what I want her to understand.

"Oh. Lovely choice Sir. Expensive..." She shoots me a sideways look, "But lovely. The lady must be very special."

"Ah. How um... Special?"

"On special too, for six hundred and forty-nine dollars." She nods hand on hip, "Would you like to continue browsing?"

She says it as something of a challenge.

"No. That one is perfect." I will only buy one person this one thing, this one time. "It's perfect. And the earrings over here please."

"Certainly sir, I must say, you are quite the decisive shopper. Most men are like, 'oh god the price, oh wow which one.' Please come again."

"Not for a few months I think." I tell her as I pass the plastic fantastic and think about the overtime I'm signing up for.

"Would you like these gift-wrapped?"

"Sure. Separately please."

"Tell the lucky lady that she can bring the ring in for resizing on the house." She says handing me the two small pink, wrapped parcels.

An hour or so later I pull into the driveway to find Trish's car back. I'm nervous. Excited. I feel like I'm falling in love again. With both of them. Sucking a deep breath in like I'm turning up for prom with a bouquet, not knowing exactly whether I'm being pranked or not, I wander up the concrete path I poured ten years ago.

I actually knock on my own door. Wanker...

Trish and Jackie both answer.

"Hi?" Jackie looks at me like I'm insane.

"What are you doing?" Trish looks at me like I'm a homeless person begging.

I hand Trish the bottle of champagne. I hand Jackie the bunch of roses.

"You're going to have to share ladies." I say from somewhere. "Work it out between yourselves."

"Fuck yes!" It's laden with inuendo when Jackie replies, "We'll share, Uncle Timmy." She wraps me in a hug.

"You sappy wanker." Smiles Trish. "Come inside idiot."

Just inside the door I stop them.

"Wait. Please wait. I have things I want to say."

They both eye me suspiciously as they wait for me to gather words together. I told you I'm not good with words.

"At least close the door hon, you're letting the air-con out."

So, I do, then reach into my left pocket.

"Look first. Trish. I love you. You are a wonderful, thoughtful and generous wife. I'd be lost without you. Here, I love you. Happy Valentine's day. I love you."

"You already said that, idiot." She laughs as she accepts the little box shaped parcel and unwraps it.

"Oh, my fucking god." Jackie blurts. "Holy fuck, you lucky bitch. Are they pearls?"

"Pearls and sapphires. Created sapphires. Pink." Captain fucking obvious I am.

Trish wipes a tear away. Shit, I did well.

"Come here." She says then tangles tongues with me.

"God that's fucking hot." Jackie says and it occurs to me that I have a second gift.

When our lips unlock and Trish steps back, I turn to Jackie.

"Now." I suck in a breath, speech prepared and feeling kind of muddled. "Listen. Both of you."

I hand Jackie a little wrapped box as well and her eyes glaze. Trish bites her bottom lip and shines bright brown eyes on mine. I can feel her trepidation and pride. I've done something good in her books by remembering a second gift, I think.

"Jackie open it." I prompt and wait.

As she opens the box and eventually sees the little ring, I blurt out my weird soliloquy.

"Look. This means I love you. I love you forever no matter what. Now tonight, I know you have talked with Trish and have plans, things, you know. But I want you to know that no matter what, I will always love you. You will always be my little Jackie."

I pause to suck in another big breath cause I'm fucking nervous and not really good with feelings and words, then stumble along, "So tonight... At any time, for any reason, both of you, have to promise me that you will say 'stop', if anything is too much, too far, not right or you change your mind. This little sign says I will always love you no matter what."

They both watch me, staring for far too long.

"Understand?" I prod at Jackie. "This is important darlin."

Then they are both fucking crying. I hate when chicks cry. I don't know what it means.

Trish is the first to kiss me and say with weird raccoon mascara eyes, "You idiot. We just spent fifty each on makeup."

Then Jackie looks up at me with little blue eyes and says, "I will. I promise. I've been worried about whether it would... and how I'd... Look, just... You're perfect. This is perfect. This is a forever thing. Infinity love. I love you Tim." Then she tries to kiss me. On the cheek.

But I take the tip of her chin with two fingers and lift her lips to mine. No tongue but a soft wet far longer than usual kiss between us that hints at how things are changing. Small hands press at my chest and her blushed face breathes deeply. I follow her frowning eyes to Trish's and realise she's asking permission.

Trish is smiling and holding one hand on her heart. She nods.

Jackie's arms encircle my neck and she pulls me down for another kiss. This one smouldering, with tongue and nips and groaned desire. Desire, that I find builds in me reflecting hers. Her mouth is warm and tastes of coffee. Her tongue is sweet and wrestles along my lips to find my own which I realise is running completely on autopilot, tracing her teeth and teasing her tongue.

Just as suddenly as it started, it is over. She pushes me away and pants, watching me with wild eyes, one hand hugging her waist and the other cupping her sex.

"Fuck." She's still staring at me a bit like she's going to eat me. But she is talking to Trish. "You said he kisses good. You didn't say THAT good. I think I wet myself."

Then taking my jaw in her hands she puts a much tamer but still passionate kiss on my lips. "Thank you for the ring. I 'forever love' you. No matter what happens tonight. Even if YOU change YOUR mind. Happy Valentine's day." The hug that follows is soft and sincere. She melts against me, her head on my chest, her body fits to mine and a warmth speaks between us. I'm aware of my erection pressed between us. Her gentle gesture of tucking herself harder against it says she is too. It doesn't feel weird.

Trish is smiling at me. "I love you. Thank you." She mouths silently. Just then Trish's phone dings. She taps the screen a few times then says, "Holy shit. Jacqueline Jane Spence, get your skinny arse over here and look at this."

They both spend a few minutes looking at the screen and whispering then they turn to me with fierce eyes and stalk toward me. Trish catches me first to squeeze the breath from me and Jackie wraps her arms around the two of us.

"What? What's going on?"

"Idiot technophobe," Trish tells me. "The banking app on my phone just put the price tags back on your gifts."

"Oh shit. Look I've got overtime coming-"

"Idiot, I'm happy not nagging."

"Okay then I guess. You weren't really supposed to know. I just wanted things that said how I feel because I'm shit at it."

Jackie is standing away from us as we talk, just looking at her ring on her finger and glancing at me now and then. Trish whispers into my neck, "You did perfectly idiot. Perfectly"

Straightening up and stepping back from me Trish puts on her business face. "Right, well enough sappy shit for now. Tea will be here in an hour and Jackie and I have to get ready. We have a hot date with a sweet man." Then with conspiratorial conference and lady giggles they hustle off upstairs.

Standing in front of the wardrobe looking at my clothes while the girls do girl things up the hall in Jackie's room, I ponder what the dress code is for an occasion like this. Formal? Surely more than boardshorts and a t-shirt? Jeans? What would I want a date to wear if I was an eighteen-year-old girl thinking about making a woman of myself?

Three years ago, Trish's older sister Marion was married. She married a fairly well-off man a few years older than her. It was her second marriage. I bought a suit that I have not worn since. It was cheaper to buy the suit than rent one. That sort of quality. Still... I should look like I made an effort. Pulling it from the hangers I lay it on the bed.

Underwear? I'm quite possibly getting ahead of myself, but how does one present one's package?

I choose a simple pair of plain black bikini cut briefs. Nothing silly, no slogans or anything.

Then I dress. Remembering everything that Mum tried to coach into me over the years of nervous pre-date preparation. "No tie Timothy. You want to look well-dressed but not stuck up. A simple shirt, not bright. It's your job to be well dressed but drab beside your date."

Finding a pale pink shirt that I've never worn because I hate pink on men, I dress in the charcoal suit and button one button as Mum instructed years ago. Trish will be happy to see me finally wearing the bloody shirt.

"No, you reek. Go have another shower. Put on a tiny drop of nice aftershave. You don't want to overpower the poor girl's expensive choice in perfume. Just a dollop so when you are dancing it heats up a little and you smell like something other than B.O."

Thanks Mum. I dab a single drop of Trish's favourite cologne behind my jaw.

"Too flashy. She's the star tonight. You're the necessary accessory. Give yourself a fault. Something wrong that people can see."

Thanks Mum. I roll my suit sleeves up twice.

"Something for her to fix for you. Make it look like you were nervous."

Shit, that stumps me. Err... Okay, I'll button my shirt wrongly. So I odds and evens my buttons.

I examine myself in front of our full-length mirror. I wouldn't fuck me. Not if I was an eighteen-year-old chick. Sometimes I'm surprised Trish still wants me. I look tidy but not movie star. I just don't get what she sees in me sometimes. Now, I'm trying to impress her little sister who clearly has equally young, much better looking, less dad bodied dudes to compare me to. Fuck.

"These are pre-date jitters. She wouldn't be going out with you if she didn't already find you attractive." Thanks again Mum.

"Now grooming. Clean shaven so she can kiss you. And your hair. For god's sake mess it up a little."

And then I hear the doorbell. It can't be seven. I only came up to dress at six. But at the door I find a smiling Asian man and a lot of food. A lot. I'll have to get that banking app that so it can tell me how much money Trish spends. I tip him.

"Nah mate." He says with a broad Australian drawl, "No need for a tip. My boss pays me properly."

"Shit bloke, just take it hey? Buy your lady something nice for valentine's day."

"Cheers mate." He says to me, "You look fuckin primo man, in for a sweet night?"

"Hot date." I tell him.

"Don't blow it. Chick must be fucking sweet as cuz."

"They are." It slips out. "I mean she is."

"Fucken A playa!"

I high five him even though the concept of an Australian Asian, appropriating American negrish is thoroughly wrong on a whole bunch of levels.

Placing the Chinese food on the breakfast bar I rub my forehead. This is it.

"Teach me the meaning of precipice.

Shackle me to the edge of abyss.

I want to flirt with oblivion,

Let my soul and eternity kiss."

I made that up.

It fits.

I should probably write that down or I'll forget it. So I do. I put it with class and dignity deserving, onto the back of the electricity bill which is gracing the kitchen table where I place the food. I use the delicate feather lite touches of a felt tip pen to write my missive, bringing my expansive ejaculation of the soul, onto the reality of my world.

Scrawled thus, I welcome the evening. 'Hello whatever.' Sometimes, when I don't know what to do, Ok, most times I don't know what to do, I have an alcoholic beverage. Over time they have made a lot of suggestions about how best to do things. They have given me a lot of ideas.

A lot of them have been really shit.

This whiskey. This splash of water. This odd number of ice cubes. They have a good one.

It involves trying to breathe and going to the back deck to watch the sun near the horizon. While I'm there I desperately try to gather what thoughts I can and corral them into pens where they can, "Calm the fuck down Susan" while I try not to imagine my wife's smooth white thighs and the kinky look she gave me earlier. While I try hard not to remember the kiss that Jackie and I shared. I'm really nervous about the whole end-game of this weird out of control shenanigans.

I have another whiskey. The first one kind of just fell into my stomach on its own. The second one is much smarter. It swirls before each sip. It tells me to slow down. It tells me to breath. It tells me just to let go and let happen. It tells me that I'm not the horse, not the rider, not even holding the reigns. I'm just a person at the party and need to play my part. Whatever that may be.

Reds and purples. Pinks and galah like greys. These are the colours of the day as it folds around me. I'm speculating on the possibilities of this evening and whether I'm even deserving of them. How some clown like me ended up in this little nexus of the universe unfolding. When I hear a throat... Wait, two throats being cleared.

"Ahem..."

I turn and my whole world is suddenly death-starred into cosmic ash clouds.

"I'm not paying this electricity bill, but I'm fucking keeping this poem." Jackie says.

My tongue which I have used for thirty-five or so years to do a myriad of things from eating, to simple speech, to bringing my wifey to orgasm simply now defies me. If it had fists it probably would be punching me but try as I might I can simply not bring words from my lips.

Both ladies; (I may have used the word, 'girls' but there is no mistaking these two fantastic creatures that stand before me like something from a fantasy as anything other than full grown ladies), are wearing lingerie. Only lingerie.

Trish has chosen purple. Purple and black. My eyes are slow to take in the details. They keep getting snagged on body parts. Body parts carefully and artfully exaggerated by the exquisite clothing.

Trish's tits are barely contained by delicate floral lace through which her dark nipples peek at me. I look to Jackie's and hers are cupped from underneath in a half cup of red satin that lifts her pert smaller breasts and points the naked nipples at me. Looking to their faces their smirks confirm their approval of his speechless, shocked appraisal.