NOT MY STORY- UNKNOWN AUTHOR,
hope I don’t get into trouble for taking it, I couldn’t see an author or a copywrite notice.



I have a fantasy.

It begins with a telephone call. A telephone call from you to our friend The Blonde™. After a few affable exchanges, you invite her to meet us for a drink in the city, or, better still, over to our place for dinner. Not The Blonde and her husband. Just The Blonde. All by her statuesque, Nordic self.

I know. I’ve barely begun to describe my fantasy, and already I’ve established myself as self-serving and immoral. But that’s one of the advantages, the delights, of fantasies. They owe nothing to anyone but the person who conjures them. But if it helps make my longings more palatable for you to digest, imagine that by the time you pick up that phone and dial her number, The Blonde has become a single woman.

So you smile and laugh through the initial catching up. “Yes, it’s great speaking with you again.” And then you ask that all-important question: “How about meeting us for a drink?” Or: “Would you like to come over for dinner? You remember where we live, don’t you?”

Given that this is my fantasy, she says yes to both of those latter questions.

It’s a Saturday evening when she knocks at our door. How many other times have we answered that very door to her, opened it wide to find her standing there, resplendent with sensuality and femininity? This time will be no different, except that on this occasion, she’ll be standing there alone.

We’ve prepared a meal that’s reasonably light, something with just a touch of spice. Szechwan beef, with bean sprouts and fine egg noodles. Just how much truth is there to that claim that spicy food is an aphrodisiac? Perhaps that’s a thought that will occur to us while we watch her eat, the two of us sharing an identical appetite to taste her, to feast upon her.

The meal over, we move to the lounge. The second bottle of Rioja goes down just as easily as the first. The soothing sounds emanating from the stereo chill the atmosphere still further. The Blonde sits alone on one sofa while we share another. Her black dress shows a good deal of leg. My attention will doubtless be captivated by the sight of her taut tanned thighs. I suspect yours will be too.

The conversation we share is relaxed, if not a touch prosaic. On all her other visits here, there was a single, unifying agenda. Our conversations were laden with innuendo and expectancy, and inevitably took an explicit turn towards matters of the flesh some time before that slow, delicious ascent upstairs. That’s not the case this time. There’s no defined timetable, no expected outcome, at least not on her part. This began as an entirely social affair. For it to culminate upstairs, we’ll have to manipulate events.

We’re going to have to seduce her.

Surely it’s not beyond us. Not when we have such a delicious advantage. After all, we know what a licentious creature she is. We’ve witnessed what she can become, what she is capable of, when her blood is up, when her lust is aroused.

And we know so many of the things that can arouse her.

Still, I wonder what our opening gambit might be.

My fantasy sometimes stutters at this point. What if she has no interest in a threesome? Could there be anything worse than trying to seduce someone with no reciprocal desire? Would we be able to read her sufficiently, determine whether she had any interest before we made a suggestion? What if her mood was ambivalent? Could we make our desire clear without being gauche? And how to achieve all of that, and still leave the three of us with room to retreat with our dignity intact.

So what would you suggest? Given your antipathy for mind games, untainted openness might be your ideal approach. How might you present the offer? “All those evenings we shared. Did you ever have an opportunity to experience a threesome?” Or something a tad more direct, perhaps: “You know, Blonde, we’d really love to take you to bed with us.” Maybe – since she’s already demonstrated a desire for us both – you could offer me up as a sexual inducement. “Blonde, how would you like to fuck my husband while I kiss you?”

But I’m sure you have your own ideas.