Have You Slept with Her?

Have you slept with her?

Chelsea leaned in close to me, took a deep breath and asked. "Have you slept with her?" But before I could say anything, she spoke again. "Never mind. You don't need to answer. I know you did."

The 'her' she was referring to was a dance instructor named Catherine, but everybody calls her Cat. She was also the choreographer for some of the plays I directed for one of our local groups. She and I had been FWB for three years when Chelsea asked if I had slept with her. I was single and never married. Cat was divorced with no intention of re-marrying. She had her own dance studio and was both successful and happy; so was I. Successful and happy, that is. I did not own my own dance studio.

"Why did you ask? Why do you care?"

She looked at me with soulful eyes. "Because I'm jealous."

Well, that certainly made my eyes open wide. Chelsea and I had known each other for almost seven years.

She started as just another girl auditioning for a role in a musical I was directing. She was a 'triple threat' which meant she could sing and dance as well as act. I didn't cast her as the lead in that first show, but I did in three other shows. She started out good and only got better.

She was 18, when I first met her and had been dancing and singing since she was five. We became friends even though I was 8 years her senior. She went on to attend and graduate from our local university with a nursing degree and continued dancing, singing and acting. She liked comedies and musicals, but the university theatre department preferred doing plays from the likes of Chekhov, Miller, and Shakespeare, so she worked with our community groups so she could do the plays she preferred.

She and I would have lunch occasionally when we weren't working on a play. We even went to plays we both wanted to see in cities near us. There was never any hint of either of us showing any sexual interest in the other; we simply enjoyed each other's company and shared a mutual appreciation for theatre. In the recent past, she always seemed to have boyfriends and I always seemed to have someone to play with; usually it was Cat.

Anyway, she had just told me she was jealous. Half-jokingly, I asked. "Of who? Me or her?"

She smiled and blushed a bit. "Kinda depends on my mood."

"And what is your current mood?"

"Right now, I would be jealous of her."

Those few words started the hottest round of sex I had for a very long time. All sex is good, but Chelsea was really good. She, like Cat, had what is called by some, a 'dancer's body'; that means it is long, lean, and strong, and they both used them well; or maybe I just liked dancers.

After several months of sexual bliss, she told me she had been approached with a job offer. "I would be a traveling nurse," she said. "Going from place to place throughout the country, filling in at places with vacant positions. I would work until the position is filled, then either come home until another temporary job opens or I could immediately go on to someplace else and do it again. It just depends on what is needed, when, and where; and the pay is unbelievable. I don't think I can turn it down."

"Do you need to pass tests and get licensed in other states you may work in?"

"No. There is something called a Nursing Licensure Compact that allows us to work in, I think, about 25 states without having to get individual state licenses."

"It sounds like you've thought about this."

"I've known about it, but recently I've talked to other nurses who have done it and they tell me I'll either like it or hate it, but, again, the money is great."

"What about the theatre? Will you be giving that up?"

"For a while, anyway."

"Then, go for it. You're only young once."

It took two weeks for her to get everything in order; and she was gone.

Her leaving left a hole in my social calendar, but I managed. She went through a social drought the first three months she was gone as well, but things changed once she got to Denver. There she found a small group, or, it may be more factual to say that a small group found her. They were all medical professionals who prided themselves in two things: first was their dedication to their "art" as they called it. She had never thought of medicine as being art, but that group did. The second thing they prided themselves in was their ability to party.

There were eight of them before Chelsea joined. Three were MD's, (two male, one female) three were RN's, (two males and two females) and two were Nurse Anesthetists (one of each). They were all unmarried and enjoyed the more erotic side of life.

They told Chelsea that she was the first outsider invited to join the group. By outsider, they meant someone not known to another member for a long time. "There was something about you that each of us was attracted to individually and almost immediately." She was told by one of the other nurses in the group. "We had no idea what it was, but it was like a signal you broadcast."

When she was told that her comment was, "you mean you smelled my 'I need to be fucked' aura?"

"It had to be something like that," the other nurse laughed.

She called me the day after her first party with them and she was happier than I had ever heard her. "I thought I was going to go through some orgiastic fuck ritual where everybody took their turn with me, but it wasn't like that," she said.

I laughed. "You sound disappointed."

Laughing back, she said, "I think maybe I am."

"So, if you didn't get to fuck everyone, what happened?"

"It was fun, Brian. We just talked at first and they told me that I never had to do anything I wasn't comfortable with and that whatever I chose to do with whomever I chose to do it with was fine as long as both parties agreed to it. They also told me that everything they did was done sober. Drinking is fine, as long as it is not to excess and absolutely no drugs would be tolerated."

"Did they explain to you why they chose you other than your 'need to be fucked' aura? And exactly how did they approach you?"

"Actually, you are a big part of their decision."

"Me? How so?"

"Edie, the nurse who initially approached me about joining the group, and I have worked together since I first got here. We had just finished some long, hard hours working and were relaxing over coffee. She told me the hospital had a couple of traveling nurses before me and she wondered about how we dealt with the lack of intimacy while traveling. She was funny and in a roundabout way asked if I had any 'toys' with me that I used. I laughed and told her that I did, in fact, have a couple of favorites with me. It was strange because I was not the least embarrassed to tell her. Not that anyone had ever asked me, but...."

I interrupted her. "I didn't know you used toys."

"There's a lot about me you don't know. Anyway, she and I got on the subject of sex and I told her about you and that you were older than me."

"So, a bit older than you is okay?" Edie asked.

"Oh, God, yes. Brian was the best."

Brian is me, by the way. Brian Sparks. "So, you think I'm the best?" I asked her grinning even though we were on the phone and she couldn't see me.

"You know I think you're the best, but that's beside the point right now. Then she asked if I knew Dr. Jameson. I told her I did. He's about the same age as you, Brian, and handsome in a rugged sort of way. Actually, put him in a pair of boots and a Stetson hat and he'd be a perfect cowboy."

"Should I be jealous?" I asked.

"Do you want to hear about the party?"

"Of course."

"Then don't interrupt. I told her I knew him and had worked with him several times. Then she asked me about two of the others. We chatted about them for a few minutes before we had to go back to work. Over the next week or so, she and one or two others in the group spent a lot of time talking with me. I just thought they were friends and were being friendly to me, I didn't know they were part of a group." She paused for a couple of seconds. "So anyway, she invited me to her apartment to relax and 'socialize'. She told me I knew everyone who was going to be there. She was right. I knew and liked all of them. The evening started with drinks, Charcuterie trays, and shop talk, but soon got around to sex.

"One of the other girls asked me if I thought girl-girl sex was wrong. I told her no, that I'd had several 'bi' experiences."

"You told a complete stranger that? I didn't even know it until relatively recently."

"She wasn't a complete stranger. I'd known her for a month or so, and if you don't stop interrupting, I'm going to stop telling my story."

"Sorry. Go ahead."

"Thank you. Then someone else asked if I thought it was okay to have multiple partners of the same or opposite sex. I told them one of your favorite expressions 'whatever floats your boat' when it comes to living your life.

"Then they asked lots more questions over the next couple of hours about my views on sex, religion, morals and almost everything but politics. Finally, I asked if they subjected every new person to that kind of interrogation. They all laughed and Edie told me I was the first in some time.

"I asked why me, and Terry, that's Dr. Jameson, spoke up and said, 'We're pretty selective'. I asked him why the need to be so selective and he told me they were a 'special group' and were very particular about who they asked to be in it. I was getting more and more curious, then Kristen, another group member, spoke up. She asked me if I could keep a secret. I told her of course. Then she asked what I thought of an organization that existed solely for the purpose of enjoyment."

"That's not unusual," I told them. "There are lots of social organizations that manage to do good and have fun at the same time."

"We're not interested in DOING good," she said. "We're only interested in BEING good."

"Being good, how, exactly?" At that point, she told me another group member spoke up.

"Sexually. We enjoy good, old fashioned, sex... in all its' forms. We also enjoy some drinking, but we never let our drinking interfere with the sex and it consists of what we think of as erotic and exotic drinks. Before you ask, they all involve alcohol, not drugs. Drugs are expressly prohibited in any way, shape, or form.

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely. Now, having said that, we want to keep our little group a secret. What we do is our business and we don't need, or want, anyone blabbing about us to anybody and everybody. Understand?"

"I do, indeed. So you told me about it because........?"

"Because, we think you might enjoy being part of us."

"May I ask how you came to that conclusion? Do I look or act like somebody who would belong to a group like that?"

They all looked around at each other and almost as one, those with glasses in their hands put them on the closest flat surface and started to stand as Terry spoke. "Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe you'd prefer not to join us, but please remember you said you could keep a secret, so we're relying on you to keep our little group a secret."

"And they all acted like they were going to leave...all except Edie, it was her apartment so she couldn't leave. I told them I didn't say I wasn't interested, I just wanted to know what I did or didn't do for them to think I might like it.

"They all seemed to relax and Terry said it was not something overt on my part, but that they were all drawn to me for their own reasons. I found that interesting because I was drawn to them individually and would have called each of them a friend. Anyway, at one of their 'get-to-gathers' someone brought my name up and I became a topic of conversation with the outcome being they decided to invite me to join their group. It started with Edie asking one of the other girls if she thought I might be bi. That started a discussion between them all anticipating what it would be like to fuck me. Brian, that was such a turn-on for me. That eight people talked about what it would be like to fuck me. God, was I turned on!

"Anyway, I told them I'd love to join the group and everyone immediately started getting undressed. By the end of the evening, I had given blow jobs to two of the guys, licked my first pussy and had my pussy licked for the first time in several years. And to top it off, I was fucked twice. It was unbelievable! I didn't get them all, but we have another meeting on Friday night. It will be at Terry's cabin in the mountains and I understand it will probably last until we all have to be at work Monday morning."

"Holy shit, Chelsea. That sounds like heaven."

"It does. I think I'm going to like it here."

And she did. She was there for four months and hated to leave, but that hospital didn't need her anymore and one in Montana did. She was in Montana just three weeks and moved on again. She didn't have sex the three weeks she was there and missed it.

She traveled for seven months before making it home. Her first night home was spent with her family, but her second was with me. We started the evening with a welcome home roll in the hay. As we rested afterward, I asked her about her adventures, both medical and sexual.

"The medical was routine for the most part, but I worked with some really dedicated people."

"But you never had as much fun as you had in Denver?"

"God, no. I even tried to start a club like it in Cleveland, but it didn't work out." She smiled. "The whole time I was gone was an adventure and about half the places I went, sex was a big part of it."

"Do you have any idea how many men you fucked?"

"How many men? Or how many times?"

"Both."

She laughed again. "About 20 men and God only knows how many times. Want to know about women?"

"Hell, yes."

She slapped my arm. "Of course you do, pervert. There were 7 of them and I loved it every time."

"Are you going to continue playing with both sexes?"

"I think so, but not here. I'll wait until I start traveling again."

"So, you're going to keep being a travel nurse?"

"I am. You can't believe how much money it pays."

"Or how much fun you have?"

She laughed. "Or how much fun I have."

"When do you leave again?"

"Next month."

She and I played occasionally until she left again.

She had been gone less than a week and she called to tell me she met a girl and they were spending a lot of time together.

"Define 'time together'." I told her.

I could hear a soft chuckle. "Use your imagination, Brian."

"I am and it's very nice. Maybe the two of you wouldn't mind an observer?"

"Maybe we wouldn't. Who might you have in mind?"

"I could be there day after tomorrow; tomorrow if I leave now."

She laughed. "Hold on, pervert. Don't get too excited."

"Okay, but don't forget me."

But she did. Our phone conversations fell off after that and after she had been gone three months they stopped altogether. I missed her calls because I lived vicariously in part through then.

I was very lucky and had not been celibate while she was gone. My dancing queen and I still enjoyed each other.

It was another six months before Chelsea made it back to town. She called me and we had dinner. She spent the evening telling me about her adventures, and, like always, I enjoyed listening. She had not managed to start any new sex clubs, but she tried. She just couldn't get the right people together. Her big news of the evening was that she was moving to Denver. She had maintained contact with her group there and decided she wanted to go back to them. One of the nurses in the group got married and apparently her bachelorette party consisted only of her sex group. Chelsea flew back to Denver for it.

Nothing was mentioned about our having sex, so we didn't.

Within a month she had moved.

When she first started travelling, I missed her, but as time went by, that feeling gradually faded away. Occasionally, I'd remember what having sex with a girl 8 years my junior was like and I missed her youthful exuberance, but then I'd call Cat and she would make me forget everything but her. At that point, she and I had been "fuck-buddies" for almost five years. Early in our relationship, we had a serious pillow chat and agreed that the minute either one of us had a meaningful connection with someone else, our relationship would end. Of course, it would most likely resume again if and when any such serious connection ended, but neither of us found that meaningful connection with someone else.

Immediately after that chat, we fucked hard before I left her house and went home. I was in my shower and was remembering our recent fuckfest and thought about Chelsea; eight years younger? Who needs it. She doesn't compare to my dancing queen!

Whoa, there. What did I just say? "MY" dancing queen? She wasn't my dancing queen. She was a friend and great piece of ass, but she wasn't mine. Nope. Not mine. She was attractive, low maintenance, owned her own home, owned her own business, had lots of the same friends I had, was independent, and was a really good cook, but she wasn't mine. I knew she was a good cook because, over the years, she and I had, on many occasions, eaten out or at each others' homes, but she wasn't mine.

She wasn't mine, but for some reason, and the first time I could remember, I thought about her and sex wasn't part of those thoughts. I thought about how she looked sitting across the table from me whenever we ate, and how she laughed when she was happy, and how her touch was so gentle.

Fuck!

I called her the next day.

"Hi, Brian. What's up?"

"Who's your favorite singer?"

"Why? What brought that up?"

"I'm just curious. Who is it?" She told me. "What's your favorite book?"

"Come on, Brian. What's going on?"

"I told you, I'm just curious."

"What brought that curiosity on?"

"I was thinking last night that I don't know much about you other than carnally."

She started laughing. "Carnally?"

"You know what I mean."

"Is that really a word?"

"If it isn't, it should be. You knew exactly what I meant. At least I think you did."

"I'm not sure I did." She was still laughing. "Explain it to me."

"Now you're just messing with me."

"Messing with you? Is that what it means? 'Messing with' not to be confused with 'messing around with'?"

"Damn it, Cat. Just answer my question."

"I forget what it was."

"What's your favorite book?"

"I don't have a favorite book. In fact, I haven't read a book in years. Tell me why you want to know."

"Like I said, I'm just curious. Do you know my favorite singer?" She didn't hesitate. She knew the answer. "My favorite movie?" She knew that as well. She also told me my favorite food, color, TV program and, yes, even my favorite book. "How do you know all that?"

"I listen to you, Brian, and I pay attention."

"Why don't I know any of that about you?"

"Because you don't care. To you, I'm just a piece of ass when you want it. You don't have to get emotionally involved, or even very close, and that's the way you like it. Oh, you like me well enough, I know that, and you would never intentionally hurt me, but you'll never get very close to me or allow me to get close to you."

I thought for several seconds, then spoke. "Why do you tolerate that? You deserve better."

"You're right. I do. But until 'better' comes along, I am content to laugh with you, cry with you, and sleep with you; but when the right guy gets my attention, I'll drop you like a bad habit just like we've discussed."

Any thought I may have had of having sex with her that night disappeared. In fact, it disappeared for the rest of that week.

As was our custom, if either of us felt the need for sex, we called the other one, made arrangements to meet, and did 'our thing', but neither felt the need that week. I don't know why she didn't, but I didn't because I felt like an asshole after what she said.