Tell Me More by Janet Mullany

but they were at that point where all that mattered was the climb, the pursuit. I saw her come—I’d never seen another woman come, but I heard her voice rise and saw her strain and gasp and then go still, her mouth open, her expression far away. Jake pumped hard into her and the slickness of their joined parts became creamy with his semen as he groaned and the two of them subsided, and she slumped on his lap, her eyes sleepy and satisfied.
    But not that satisfied. She pleasured herself as she watched us, smiling gently, one manicured finger circling her clit. I wanted that, too. It was our moment, me and Cathy, as we both came, me frantic against Willis’s thrusting, she languid and amused, taking a lazy climax. This time she came quietly with a slow shudder, her mouth open, eyes closed, and my pussy clenched and spasmed against Willis’s thrusts.
    “Damn,” Willis said and sagged onto me. “Oh, damn, that was good.”
    He released me and I collapsed onto the floor in a heap, then rolled over onto my back, my legs splayed apart. “I like you, Willis.”
    He shook his head. “Hey, you like my dick and Cathy’s pussy, but I’m not complaining.”
    “Of course I like her pussy. It’s a work of art.”
    “Maybe you girls can put on a show,” Jake said. He’d tipped Cathy to one side and was investigating the chips and dip. “What is this?”
    “Eggplant,” Cathy said. She reached for a piece of celery. “Can I get anyone a beer? More wine, Jo?”
    I stifled a giggle. We’d gone straight from X-rated to snacks with barely a pause.
    Cathy strolled naked across the room to one of the trunk-style ottomans and lifted the lid. She offered us terry robes, one of which I took, although both of the men refused, preferring their discarded underwear. She put on a robe and fussed around a little, providing us with drinks and urging us to help ourselves to the snacks. What happened next? Bridge? Scrabble?
    Willis kissed me. “You did good, babe. I knew you would. Enjoy it?”
    I nodded and sipped my wine. We made some conversation about careers—Jake worked in IT and Cathy was the office manager for a construction company. I told them I worked in media.
    Jake looked longingly at the remote but Cathy snatched it away and stored it in one of the ottomans. I wondered if she’d scoot the ottomans around the room later to frustrate Jake when he started looking for it. She perched on his knee and he put his hand on her thigh where the robe fell away.
    “So, what do you think?” Willis asked Jake.
    “Nice,” he said. He put his beer bottle on the table. “Jo, do me a favor, honey? Come on over here.”
    I looked at Willis. He gave me an encouraging smile.
    I walked over to the sofa and stood in front of Jake and Cathy.
    Jake reached out and tugged at the belt of the terrycloth robe. It fell open, revealing me to them. There was a pause as Jake and Cathy assessed me. Their scrutiny hardly felt sexual. I was being judged, found worthy, regarded as a specimen.
    Jake nodded and Willis came forward to lift the robe from my shoulders.
    “Great muscle tone and flexibility,” Jake said as though he was choosing me for his team. Maybe he was. He rested his elbows on his knees. “Needs some cosmetic work.”
    “I’m not getting my tits done,” I said.
    He grinned. “Not that, honey. Your bush.” He touched me, then, his forefinger stirring my pubic hair.
    “Heck, it suits her,” Cathy said. “She’s a nature girl, right?”
    His finger slid down, resting on my clitoris, then scooted sideways to where hair curled at the top of my thighs. “You could get this waxed, maybe. I think that would do.”
    “Do for what?” They were talking about me as if I were a thing, an object, but all I was aware of was the tickle of his finger as he explored my intimate areas.
    “Do you think she could hold her own with the others?” Willis asked. “Most of them are younger.”
    “Yeah. How old are you,