The Game (4 page)

“And lots less fattening.”

* * * *

“Marcie, I guess I’d better tell you, I’ve just gotten out of a relationship, and I don’t think I’m ready for—”

“A woman?” Marcie chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed, perfectly at ease with her breasts still uncovered. “Hon, you don’t have to make believe with me.”

Frank pulled off the layers of clothes and tossed them on the scarred dresser that was missing a drawer, trying to delay his response. Finally down to only his boxers, he heaved a sigh and turned back to her.

“How’d you guess? What did I do?” He paused. “Dave doesn’t know.”

Marcie patted the mattress. “Slide over here, big boy.”

Frank crumbled next to her, his head in his hands.

“Confession time, Frankie. My last two lovers were bi. When I make love, I like a party. And though I’d love to party with you, if you’re not up to it—gotta stop watching LOGO TV—I won’t push you.” She gave him a teasing little poke. “Besides, I saw the way you were mooning after him while we drove up here. Sweetie, if he had eyes in the back of his head, you’d be out.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “But it’s up to you. I won’t say anything.”

Suddenly, they heard a steady thumping from the wall behind them. Marcie looked at Frank with sympathy.

“To anyone.”

* * * *

Dave rolled over onto his back, his heart racing. “Lord, Shari, you’re gonna kill me, girl.”

She shifted over him, her breasts crushed against him. She swirled her fingers in his chest hair and licked the sweat from his neck. She swung her leg over his lean hips and rubbed against his semierect cock, moaning as it hardened.

“Oh, God, that felt so good.”

He shifted and she undulated beneath him. He drew her hands up, twining his fingers with hers, gripping the headboard. She bit her lower lip, then licked it, bucking against him. He pressed down, using his greater weight to keep her still.

“I wanted to talk, Shari, but there isn’t any way I can when I’m with you. I can hardly catch my breath.” He paused and shut his eyes. “And when I feel your body move beneath me—fuck, who wants to talk.”

He let go of her hands and, putting his weight on his hands, rose above her. Never taking his gaze from hers, he fit his cock into her pussy and began a slow, deep, rocking movement that sped faster and faster until the bed shook beneath them and banged the wall.

* * * *

“Get me a glass of water, please, Dave?” Shari whispered.

“Sure. Back in a flash.”

Dave debated whether to throw on some clothes. Hell, it was one in the morning. The cabin was totally silent. Frank and Marcie were probably fast asleep, spooned together in bed. Or was Frank lying on his back with Marcie’s breasts squashed against his side? Did the blanket cover them, or was Frank’s cock at rest after fucking her? Was she on her back, Frank’s dark hair half concealing her nipples? Was Frankie’s hard, lean body slicked with sweat, his hair damp, covering his jawline? Was Marcie kneading the muscles in Frank’s taut ass as she bent to take his cock deep in her mouth? His long, thick, hard cock?

God, gotta stop thinking of him—them.

“Dave?”

“Going.”

* * * *

“Frankie, will you be a sweetie and get my bag?” Marcie grinned. “I brought my vibrator with me…just in case. It’s in my purse.”

Frank smiled back. It felt good not having to hide anything from Marcie, not even how much he loved Dave. He still couldn’t believe what she’d told him about that
harem
scenario. Hell, his love life seemed tame compared with hers. Love life? What love life? He hadn’t been out with anyone in months.

The bed banging had stopped a while ago. Dave and Shari must have finally run out of steam. Thank God.

After Marcie and he had talked earlier, they decided to try to sleep. Sometime during the night she had cuddled close to him. He had slipped off his boxers to feel her hot, soft skin next to his. It felt good.

“Problem, sweetie?”

“No, no problem.”

* * * *

Dave lay on his back, staring at the cracked ceiling. He could hear Shari’s quiet, even breathing as she slept. She hadn’t said anything to him when he came back without the water she’d asked for. Hadn’t said a thing when he just slipped into the bed and drew the blanket up over them. He’d finally muttered that he thought they’d better conserve the water and asked her to deal with it until the morning. She agreed without questioning him.

Thank God.

Because he had some questions he had to ask himself.

When had he begun to notice Frank’s body?

When had the thought of watching Frank make love begun to turn him on?

When had visions of Frank’s butt muscles flexing as he pumped his cock into someone made him hard, too?

He rolled over on his side away from Shari. He could see the closed bedroom door.

What would happen if he knocked on Marcie and Frank’s door and asked to come in?

What would he do if they said yes?

He was afraid to answer the question.

He punched the pillow underneath his head and willed himself to relax. To think of something calming.

Not visions of Frank’s sweaty body.

He finally fell asleep at dawn.

* * * *

“The snow is still coming down.” Marcie turned from the window. A sliver of pale sunlight glinted on the dirty windowpane. “I can’t even see the car.”

“I tried to get a signal on my cell.” Dave stared at the innocuous device in his hand with frustration. “Nothing.”

A clatter of wood drew the attention of them both to the fireplace. Frank kneeled by the smoldering fire, stacking a fresh pile of wood. “Whoever built this cabin was pretty damn clever. There’s a small hinged door on the outside wall where the wood is stored. You just pull the logs in and when you see the top of the pile, you know it’s low, and you cut more.” He paused. “I can’t see the top yet.”

Dave smiled. “My gramps was a smart guy.” He sighed. “But a little too trusting.”

“Come and get it,” Shari called from the kitchen.

They trooped into the shadowed room. Shari had scrounged up some faded tea towels from somewhere and four places had been set. Besides the two tipsy chairs, Dave and Frank had dragged in a worn-out hassock and an empty wooden chest from one of the bedrooms. A jar of peanut butter sat in the middle of the table, the sugar canister next to it. A platter of crackers was fanned out on the dented top of a pot. Whiffs of coffee wafted in the air.

Marcie’s stomach rumbled, and she laughed and patted it.

“You get the seal of approval. I am seriously impressed, Miss Shari. I didn’t know you were so domestic.”

Dave kissed Shari’s cheek. “I didn’t know either. I haven’t seen her domestic side. Yet.” He sat down and inhaled the aroma of the dark brew in the cup before him. “You’ve done a terrific job.”

Shari blushed to the roots of her hair. “Thanks. It really wasn’t anything.”

“I’m going to pretend I’m at some weird fat farm run by a crazy person from a horror film and just enjoy.” Marcie reached for the peanut butter jar and opened it, sighing with delight as she sniffed the familiar nutty scent. She clutched the jar to her chest and shoved it under her shirt.

Marcie’s outrageous actions lightened the mood once more.

Frank groaned.

“I don’t think I’ll ever look at peanut butter the same again. Oh, well, I
was
going to ask for seconds.”

“Sorry. I’m screwing the cook. I’m the only one who gets seconds.” Dave grabbed Shari, and she squealed as he plunked her down on his lap, tickling her.

* * * *

“I like your roommate,” Dave muttered to Shari. He watched Marcie and Frank play
Mad Libs
, an old word game they’d found stuck underneath the couch. Only half of the puzzles were filled. He recognized his handwriting, Frank’s, and his gramp’s. He must have brought the game pad up one time when he visited and forgotten it. “She could have been a real bitch about this, but she hasn’t complained at all.”

Shari nodded. “Marcie is great. She’s been on a couple of stories with me, and when I found out about the brownstone, I asked her to go
halfsies
. She’s really talented. One of these days she'll take a picture and she’ll win a Pulitzer.”

Dave tweaked her nose. “And you’ll win one for your investigative reporting.”

She shook her head. “I’m not interested in one. I’m looking for a
Tony
.”

“A
Tony
? You want to write a play? I didn’t…” His voice trailed off.

She settled deeper in his embrace and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “You’re not the only one who didn’t know.” She shifted and looked up at him. “In fact, now you’re the only one who
does
. It’s why I decided to write for a smaller paper, rather than go after one bigger. This way I have more opportunity to pick the stories I want to do. I’ve been collecting human-interest narratives for two years now. I want to write a play about them.” She smiled tremulously. “Crazy, huh?”

Dave tipped her chin and kissed her. “Not crazy.”

* * * *

“Man, tuna fish, crackers, creamed corn. Who would have thought if you heated them up together you’d have fish chowder?” Dave leaned back in his chair. “God knows what you could do with a full larder.”

Marcie laughed. “You see why I won’t go downstairs to her place for dinner? I’d get as fat as a pig.” She chuckled. “Oops, not kosher. Shari better learn to how to make latkes this Hanukah.”

Frank smiled. Even though it hurt to see up close and personal how much Dave cared for Shari, it still felt good just to be near him. And sharing his secret with Marcie made it that much more bearable.

“Well, gang. Time to strip-
dreidel
,” Marcie announced.

“I’ll rinse these things off. It’ll only take a second.” Shari gathered the few reusable items and wiped them off with a napkin and then a damp towel. “This will have to do; can’t use too much water—gotta conserve, after all.” She spread the damp towel neatly on the edge of the sink. “C’mon. Let’s play.”

Shari spun first. The top danced in a crazy circle on the floor.
Nun
—nothing.

“My turn.” Dave picked up the top and twirled.

“
Shin
.” He turned to Marcie. “How about giving me that stunning scarf?”

“Chicken,” Marcie teased, but untied the rainbow-colored silk length from around her neck and handed it over.

As the evening wore on it became obvious who the night’s winner would be.

Marcie wore her thong and Frank’s shirt open to display her unsupported tits. Shari kneeled on both knees, the Brazilian wax job evident to everyone, along with a triangular tattoo below her navel. Marcie leaned forward on her hands and knees to get a better look.

“Why, Shari, I didn’t know you had a tattoo, too, and on your belly.” Marcie peered closely at the tiny pink rose edged in crimson. “Why a rose?”

“It was my mom’s favorite flower. And my full name—Sharon Rose Nelson.” She looked at Dave. “I got it last year after she passed away.”

“Well, it looks like you’re the winner, Shari.” Frank stood. “We’ll see you guys in the morning.”

“Wait.” She took a deep breath and looked directly at him. “I want you.”

* * * *

Shari threw on one of Dave’s T-shirts and shut the bedroom door behind her and Frank. He stood awkwardly by the dresser. Tonight he still had on his shorts and socks.

“Have a seat, Frank. I’m not going to bite you.” She paused. “I don’t think.”

He sank down on the wooden trunk at the foot of the bed and looked at her steadily.

“Why did you pick me, Shari? I don’t understand.”

She sighed and shifted to sit cross-legged on the bed. She pulled the sheet up around her feet and rocked back and forth for a moment. “Because you’re Dave’s closest friend and you know him the best.” She ducked her head and looked at her fingers twined in her lap. She took a deep breath, then lifted her head and looked directly at him.

“Why did Dave become a cop? Why vice?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I’m afraid to.” She gulped. “I…Frank, I’m not lily white. I’m afraid if Dave finds out, he’ll…”

Frank shook his head.

“You really should ask him, but I’ll tell you what I know.” He stood and began to pace the floor. “Dave’s smart, clever, and athletic. He could have gone to college on a basketball scholarship, but he didn’t want to. He went to John Jay and took criminal law.” He paused. “God, he was so passionate about it. Then my cousin Joey came to visit from Boston, and that was it. Dave listened to all his stories, and it was like a blinding light went on in him.” Frank’s voice thickened with emotion and his eyes grew dreamy. “If I thought he was passionate before, he was possessed then. He wanted to be ‘super cop.’ I’d come back to the apartment and be afraid I’d find a voice message saying he’d been shot.”

He stopped pacing and gripped his arms, hugging himself. “And he was. God, I gave the cabbie an extra fifty to cut every red light. When I got to the hospital, his folks were there and…” He clenched his hands. “The hospital wouldn’t let me in until they left.” His breath hitched as he relived that night. “When I finally got in to see him, he was exhausted and falling asleep.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I was so scared. I, I touched his cheek to see if he was still alive, and he opened his eyes and smiled at me. I lost it. I cried like an idiot. Thankfully, he had only been awake for one second. He didn’t see me break down.”

“You’re in love with him,” Shari uttered in awe and moved over to him. Her arms went around him, and she hugged him as tightly as a five foot two female could hug a muscled six foot tall guy, and spoke, her voice muffled against him. “Does he know you’re gay?”

“Not a clue. At least I don’t think so.” He gently disengaged from her embrace. “Marcie knows, too. She promised not to say anything.”

“I won’t tell, either, but Frank, you can’t keep this from him. You love him. He should know. He should—” She stopped. “Why vice?”

Frank sank back down on the trunk, his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling. “It was Joey. He was in vice and Dave thought he was a hero. You know, saving the world from pimps and pedophiles and dirty scumbags.” He raised his head, his eyes bleak. “And then, one day, Joey was dead. See, Joey thought he was a hero, too, and he took chances. Stupid chances. He interfered with a doped-up hooker and her pimp. Surprise, surprise. He was concerned about the pimp; he should have been worried about the hooker. When she saw he was getting in the way of her getting her fix, she went at him with her five-inch-high stilettos.” His bitter laughter stunned her. “Dave swore he’d continue Joey’s good work. So that’s why he went into vice, and that’s where he’s been the last five years.” He fixed her with his gaze. “I don’t have the courage to tell him I’m gay.”