Ménage by Carolyn Faulkner Page A

seriously if he was gay, except that he couldn’t color coordinate separates if his life depended on it.
    With his encouragement, I tried on fashions I would never have given a second look – like the deep maroon velour swing dress I was in. It was scoop necked, revealing a healthy amount of my burgeoning cleavage, and draped elegantly from there to not quite mid-thigh. If I had my hands over my head, as I had a few minutes ago, my bare butt was pretty much hanging out.
    “Turn around,” Drew commanded, and I obeyed instantly.
    He squatted down and lifted the flowing skirt to my waist. “Your bottom looks fairly well healed, but I want you to continue to take the extra vitamin C.”
    “Yes, Sir.” Last week’s punishment had been considerable, and, although he never let it deter him from the administration of a thorough spanking, Drew always worried about the bruises it sometimes created. He stood up and turned me, letting his hand run over my hip to cover my shaved mound possessively, then slowly stroke up to a ripe, bare nipple.
    “I heard you ask Brian for permission to get up in the
    middle of the night last night. Couldn’t you sleep?” Brian had denied that permission, and had assisted me to sleep by wringing several exhausting orgasms from me; his mouth planted firmly where Brian’s hand had roamed seconds ago.
    “No, I couldn’t.”
    “Then you need to take a nap today, don’t you?” Of the
    two, Brian was also the control freak. He knew that I hated to sleep during the day, that I was afraid I’d miss the opportunity to do something exciting with either or both of them, and that I felt we didn’t spend enough time together as it was. Plus the fact that being put to bed for a nap made me feel babyish. He knew all these things but they didn’t phase him. “Dinner tonight is pizza – of course,” one of our many traditions is Sunday night pizza: no fuss, no muss before the workweek “so you can nap from one to five.
    Come get me at 12:55 and I’ll put you to bed.”
    I wanted desperately to sigh exasperatedly, but I didn’t want to push it.
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Brian, she’s going to nap from one to five. Please don’t disturb her,” Drew announced, turning away from me with a quick kiss to wander over to the computer. Brian was now buried in the sports page.
    “Good idea. She was up till all hours last night.”
    It was Sunday, and, within reason, I could do whatever I wanted until the dreaded naptime. I read on the couch like a lump, getting absolutely nothing accomplished of any merit. It felt good.
    The magazine section of the Sunday paper had an article on polyamory, and until I read it, I never knew there was a technical term for our little “arrangement”. What we had, we got by fate.
    Accident, even. Luck. And damn good luck for me.
    Drew and Brian had been friends forever. When Drew and I began to date, and I naturally saw Brian from time to time.
    Eventually, we became a friendly threesome – we all had a lot of the same interests and had a lot of fun together. Drew and I moved in together and lived as a couple for a while.
    When Brian’s lease was up, Drew asked if I’d mind him
    moving in for a while, until he could find another place. I had no objections, although I worried some because Brian and I were just beginning to explore the idea of him disciplining me, and I didn’t think I wanted anyone else witnessing that. I figured we’d put it on the back burner until we were by ourselves again. Things settled into a natural routine.
    I work at home, and ended up doing most of the typically “female” things – cooking, etc. Both men were – and still are – extremely appreciative of my cooking talents, and for clean, folded laundry. Cleaning talents have never – and will never – be my forte. Andrew tends to excel and be more concerned about general cleanliness, so he evolved into the vacuuming/dusting expert, and Brian naturally gravitated to more outdoor duties,