Can't Get Enough of Your Love by J.J. Murray

you’re with one of your men and another man happens to show up unannounced?”
    I shudder. “I hope that never happens, and it’s less likely to happen since I moved out here.”
    â€œWell, what if it
did
happen? Would you sneak one out the back or …”
    â€œI don’t have a backdoor.” Why don’t I have a back door? Mama’s little house has a front door, two side doors, and a back door. I wonder if it’s legal for a house not to have a back door. I have a front door and a side door, both within thirty feet of each other.
    â€œOkay, would you sneak one out a window, or would you invite the other one to
join
the two of you for some interesting fun?”
    I don’t answer that one, instead growling, clearing the table, and washing my hands. When I lived in Roanoke, I thought the only way all three might actually meet one day was if Karl’s Blazer broke down at Fairview Cemetery while he was there selling his Coach bags (for whatever reason) during a funeral Roger was presiding over, and Berglund Auto World sent Juan Carlos to fix it. Stuff like that happens only in bad dreams, worse sitcoms, and the worst movies.
    Though I do have this one recurring nightmare, and I will never tell Izzie about it. I’m getting busy with one of them in some generic bed in a hotel. At least I think it’s a hotel because there’s a Gideons Bible on the nightstand and a really awful watercolor of some ducks hanging above the bed. Anyway, I’m getting busy when either there’s a knock on the door or the phone rings. As soon as I hear the knock or the phone, the man in the bed disappears, but there’s always a wet spot for some reason. When I get to the door or pick up the phone, there’s no one there. For the rest of that dream, I wander the halls of some spooky hotel completely naked looking for my men, only no one at the front desk has seen them … and no one notices I’m naked.
    â€œYou have thought about having a threesome, haven’tyou?”
    â€œHmm?”
    â€œI know you’ve thought about having a threesome, Lana,” she says.
    â€œI haven’t thought about it, but I know
you
have.”
    Though Izzie never acts on her fantasies, she sure has a ton of them. Most of them involve two men, each man “servicing her” (her phrase) while at the same time she “services” them. Izzie even says she has “toys” at home that feel
almost
like the real thing. “You have dildos and vibrators?” I had asked, and she said, “No, they’re toys.” She has a different name for each, um, “member” of her single-woman’s drawer, and from what she reveals during our Sunday talks, she has a lot more members in her “club” than I do, some long, some thick, some that vibrate, and some that even thrust.
    â€œIt’s a nice fantasy, Lana. You should imagine it sometime.” She looks out the kitchen window at the pond. “But if you
had
to have two of them at the same time, which two would you choose?”
    â€œCome on, Izzie. That’s not going to happen, so why should I answer?”
    â€œWhy won’t it happen?”
    â€œBecause I’m extremely careful, that’s why.”
    She turns from the window. “Well, what if one day you aren’t so careful?”
    If I don’t answer her perverted questions, she’ll keep asking—in different ways—until I do. “Okay, okay. Uh, Karl and … Juan Carlos.”
    And the two of them would probably put my stuff in traction for a week. I should have said Juan Carlos and Roger. They’d be gentler. Karl and Roger? Man, it’d be like making love to a saltshaker and a pepper shaker.Though the contrasts—one fast, one slow, one fierce, one tender—might be nice. Mmm … If I had Karl working it down there and Roger licking—
    â€œThey’re the freakiest,