No More Heroes

Posted by Lex Konrad in Dispatches | Jun 22, 2008

I’m not in love
So don’t forget it
It’s just a silly phase I’m going through
And just because
I call you up
Don’t get me wrong, don’t think you’ve got it made
I’m not in love, no no
It’s because…

-10cc, “I’m not in Love”

“She wants to be my girlfriend.”

“What?“

***

Her stockings were striped, her pink dress covered in purely decorative zippers, her blond hair fashioned into a makeshift mohawk.

She was beautiful.

Her name was Joy.

Reluctantly, I kissed her goodnight.

Fucking Molly. How could she leave her roommate to fend for herself on the neighbor’s couch?

Fuck. Molly. That sexy little bitch.

As I ran my tongue over Joy’s enormous breasts one last time I decided I would complete the seduction of Molly. And Joy, watching us intently, would grade my work.

I think I saw that in a movie once.

***

“Let’s give Lex a lap dance.” Joy beamed at me when she said this. She and Leslie each claimed one of my legs, and as they hovered over me I let my hand ride up Joy’s dress, my fingers reaching under her panties and settling between her thighs. She swung her leg over me and turned around to press her tits to my face.

The men at the club stood motionless in slack-jawed adulation.

You the man now dog.

***

Downstairs, by the bathroom, a girl snatched my sunglasses away and grabbed my junk.

In that order.

***

“You need to push Molly,” Joy said as she cuddled up to me on the velvet couch. Her roommate — my date — had just left. With the house keys. Our place wasn’t an option. We had a logistical dilemma.

“Excuse me,” I responded, “are you actually trying to help me fuck your friend?”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

“Then you should know I had my work cut out for me tonight. That girl can be—”

“A bitch.”

“-difficult is what I was going for.”

“Get her wasted. And promise her pills. Or give her a little coke.”

“My fucking god,” I said. I was genuinely appalled.

“If you get her wasted she’ll do anything. She’ll let you fuck her in the ass… no, she’ll beg you to fuck her in the ass. Trust me. I live with her. I know.”

“And she definitely wants to fuck me?”

“Absolutely. But she’s, like, programmed to be a pain in the ass about it.”

“Jesus.”

“I like you better than the guys she brings home. And I love your wife. I have wine chilling back at my place — it was gonna be our little surprise for the two of you.” Joy sounded genuinely exasperated with her roommate. I could only sit there in blinking disbelief. “Listen, next time we’re going straight back to my place — no bullshit. That girl needs discipline and you’re going to give it to her.”

“You have the kind of moral flexibility I’ve come to appreciate in a woman.” I fondled Joy’s double-dees as I said this.

“I just wanna have a good time,” she purred.

***

The 21-year-old model lay stretched out across my lap. My hand rested comfortably upon her inner thigh. I was finally getting somewhere with Molly. “It’s my friend’s birthday,” she was telling me. “I don’t want to go but I kind of have to go.”

Fuck.

***

That damned Bob Sinclair song was on again. “I can’t dance to this,” I said to Molly.

“Why not?”

“It makes me sad.”

She pouted, which only made her bee-stung lips that much more tempting. “Poor baby,” she said, holding me to her.

***

The four of us danced in the VIP lounge, completely oblivious to our surroundings. Leslie and I kissed deeply while the girls pressed their bodies against us. Then we paired off, Leslie with Joy, I with Molly. The tall girl spun around and backed her tight ass against me, wiggling it expertly. I felt an uncomfortable pressure building in my underpants. This only spurred her on.

“Damn girl, are you a belly dancer?”

She spun around again and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “I’ve taken lessons. Hey! Stick your chest in!”

“Wha? Okay.”

“Now stick it out again,” Molly said after I’d complied. “Good. Now keep going.”

“What the hell is this?”

“Shakira!”

“You’re nuts! Anyway, I have to take a leak.”

When I returned the girls were all frowns. “What’s wrong ladies?”

Joy looked up at me with angry eyes. “Some idiot tried to grab my ass and I don’t even know who it was.”

The boys had been hovering all night, approaching sheepishly and then running off with their tails between their legs when the girls informed them I was the only man allowed on Fantasy Island. How is it that I, the epitome of lechery, manage this sort of thing without really trying while most men flail away gracelessly?

I had a discussion with the bouncer and when I came back I was something of a hero in Joy’s eyes. But there are no more heroes in this world, only scoundrels like me.

***

“I was sure you were Irish,” I told Molly.

She smiled, peering at me with her large brown eyes. God she was gorgeous. “Why would you think that?”

“Your name… but then again perhaps I’ve read too much James Joyce.”

“No, no, I’m definitely Bulgarian.”

“I’m Mexican!” Joy suddenly announced.

I assumed a skeptical pose. The girl was as pale as a snowdrift—but then she launched into a Spanish monologue about all the little towns she lived in when she was growing up. “I’m half German, though,” she concluded.

I had been trying to tease Molly out of her shell. I knew I was in for a challenge when she sent back her drink and complained about the service, but after I sat next to her she began to open up.

When my martini came I fed her an olive. Soon after we were feeding each other french fries and doing the Lady and the Tramp bit.

“You guys don’t act like a married couple,” Molly remarked as we watched Joy and Leslie embrace on the dance floor.

“I suppose not.”

***

When we arrived I almost didn’t recognize the girls. One of them was tall and willowy and unsettlingly attractive, the other short and busty and adorable.

I didn’t remember them being this young. Nor this hot. Chris greeted us at the door and grinned broadly, as if to say you’ve done it again you sly dog.

“Do you like my outfit?” Joy asked Leslie. “Molly took me shopping for tonight.”

Joy looked like a Japanese confection. Her clothes would have been ridiculous on anyone else. I wanted to eat her up.

“Somebody pinch me,” I mumbled to myself when we entered the club. “Just. Fucking. Pinch me.”

***

“The girls are up for a double date,” said my wife, “but they don’t have much money.”

“I wonder what the four of us could do together that would be both fun and cheap? I’m thinking something where you didn’t even need to wear expensive clothes, or, hell, any clothes at all. Oh damn, oh damn I’m drawing a blank here… you should call and cancel!”

By the time I finished talking Leslie was laughing her ass off.

***

“You like Joy,” I was telling Leslie. “I like Molly. Well, I like both of them. We should go on a double date.”

“I’ll call Joy tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t we think of this years ago?”

***

Leslie was having a cigarette outside the bar when I arrived. “Wanna see a picture of some nice tits?” she asked. I’ve heard from friends that most wives don’t talk to their husbands this way.

Grainy though they were on Leslie’s camera phone, the breasts in question were indeed nice. “Is that your date?” I inquired.

“No, she’s the girl I picked up while I was waiting for my date to show.”

“Well put that shit out and introduce me already..”

Before long I stood facing the proud owner of the proud tits. “Lex, this is Joy,” said my wife. “Joy, meet Lex.”

I took Joy’s slender hand in mine and kissed her fingers. I’m not sure why I make such a dramatic, dandyish show of things. Generally I curse like it’s showtime at the Apollo; I make inappropriate remarks about women’s bodies; I’m handsy. And yet this very contradiction is the source of my questionable charm, I think.

“Oh,” Leslie continued, “and this is Molly.”

I call it the bartender rule, the bartender always being the hottest girl (or boy) in the joint. The lithe young woman propped her foot on something behind the bar and leaned forward to tie her sneakers. She wore a ridiculously short denim skirt. My eyes tracked downward…

And I must have been lost in that tempting view of her pussy, barely hidden beneath her sheer lavender panties, because when I came to Molly was saying: “Hello? What did you ask for again?”

I mustered an embarrassed chuckle. “Bombay Sapphire, thanks.”

I wanted to bury my face in that cunt. I wanted to smell it… taste it. Sometimes it really is that simple.

But simple things have a way of getting complicated.

More: Threesome | Foursome | Seduction | Dating

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