FemmeNoir
A Web Portal For Lesbians Of Color

Poetry & Short Stories

Trois

by Imani

That's what I was trying to tell you all along.  We were just coming from completely different places.  We both needed space.  I needed understanding.  Together, we just don't have that.  As for Deb and Jude, the three of us, had a little fling a while back.  It was a few months before I met you.  Deb and Jude were at the LesBiGayz of Color Conference in Honolulu.  I was there with Tonya.  Tonya and I were dating then, off and on, and we went to the conference together. 

I was lying alone on the beach of the conference hotel, and Deb approached me.  She told me she recognized me from the conference and asked if I would like to join her and Jude on their little plot of sand for some cocktails.  I accepted. 

After chatting with them for a while, Jude point blank asked if I would be interested in a ménage-a-trois.  I was stunned and must've looked stunned, because Deb began to explain that she and Jude loved each other very much but liked to spice up their sex lives a bit every now and then.

I told them that I had never done anything like that before and that I was at the conference with my on-again-off-again girlfriend.  They told me to think about it and talk it over with my girlfriend, but the invitation only extended to me.  I asked why me, and they said because they liked my style: the way I carried myself, what I had to say.  They gave me their room number and told me to call, whatever my decision.  They wanted to have dinner, if nothing else, before the conference was over. 

I told Tonya about Deb and Jude, and she screamed and jumped around the room, saying that I always had all the fun.  I pointed them out at one of the seminars, and I asked Tonya what she thought I should do.

And Tonya said, emphatically like always, "Girl, go get you them fine older ladies.  Make sure you learn something that we can try together sometime." 

Then she winked at me.  I shook my head and laughed.  Tonya's crazy.  That's why I love her.

So I called Deb and Jude the next day, and they invited me to dinner. We went to the fanciest restaurant that I had ever been to before.  There were more courses and silverware than I could count.  Jude made conversation like nothing kinky was being planned.  I had already told them that I was interested in their proposition.  Deb held my hand between courses and told Jude to stop talking so much and eat or we'd be there all night.

After dinner, I went to Deb and Jude's room, and they plied me with wine and massaged my hands and feet with some kind of oil that made me feel warm and tingly all over.  I felt awkward and nervous.  They told me to relax.  I cried when they made love to me. The night was over too soon. 

In the morning, we showered together.  Deb gave me a linen skirt and a Hawaiian shirt to wear, and then we all had breakfast together on the patio overlooking the ocean.  I was ravenous, and I ate more than my share of the pineapples and strawberries and drank three mimosas while Deb sipped one.  Jude drank coffee and talked about the news she read in the New York Times while Deb and I were dressing.  Deb laughed at how much food I was piling on my plate and added more when I put the serving spoon down.  I didn't say much, but I was grateful for everything they had done for me.

Then it was over.  Deb squeezed my hand and kissed my cheek, and Jude thanked me for a wonderful time and gave me the number to their house on the mainland.

Deb and Jude were perfect, because they had, what we never had, a complete understanding of each other. 

What can I say, I thought it was something we would grow into.  I guess I was wrong.