Twice The Pleasure. Portia Da Costa

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      “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

      Steve Lewis’s voice was harsh and angry. At the time, I was shocked and mortified, and I leapt like the proverbial scalded cat, scuttling away from Drew. But afterwards, I wondered about that anger. Why not the usual ribald, macho teasing? Steve seemed jealous, and not in the least bit amused by his buddy’s amorous exploits.

      “What does it look like?” Drew’s eyes were just as furious. In a slow, calculated movement, that seemed as insulting to Steve as it was to me, he cupped his erect cock through his gym shorts. It had been boring into my belly as he’d played with me. “She was willing…. Why not? Nobody else is.”

      “Well, I’m not willing any more!” My shout rang around the confined space as I ran out, crimson with embarrassment and blinking back tears. My anguish blinded me to anything else but my own disappointment and the undignified experience of just being that casual, willing conquest. I ignored the hard words behind me, another furious argument that didn’t seem to have anything to do with me.

      In the last few days of term, things were a bit awkward at first, but eventually they both apologized. Separately, and more or less in monosyllables. It was a surprise though, and looking back, I doubt that any other stud from our year would have bothered.

      On my return to the assembly hall, in the here and now, I scan the room again and suddenly I’m all aflutter.

      Drew!

      And Steve!

      They’re chatting to Willa Riley and James Adams, and one of our old teachers, Mr. Laurence, all laughing and smiling. I watch them for a few seconds, drinking them both in, but then, spookily, as if they’ve smelt the odor of my nostalgic desire, the pair of them turn as one and look at me.

      Two pairs of eyes scrutinize me across the room. One brilliant blue, the other gray and smoky. Drew was always my lust object ten years ago, but now it dawns on me that I always fancied Steve subconsciously. He’s lean and dark, but well-built and still in fine, athletic shape, just like Drew.

      They turn to each other and nod, and a look passes between them.

      Oh my God.

      I see now what I was naively blind to ten years ago. The truth. The source of their argument.

      Steve was jealous.

      He was jealous of me, making out with his beloved.

      And as the two men make their excuses and the small group breaks up, they move towards me, obviously a couple.

      I feel like turning and running, but I can’t. I’m right in the middle of this party, and it feels like every eye is upon me. People would notice if the caterer just tore out of the room and didn’t come back. I took this gig to see Drew Hartley, but now I’m not sure I can face him.

      I am such a dummy. This whole exercise is pointless. He won’t fancy me now for the same reason he didn’t really fancy me then. He only touched my bottom that time because Steve’s wasn’t available.

      But it’s quite clear he gets to touch Steve’s ass now…that and whole lot more.

      “Hello, Caitlyn…How are you? You’re looking wonderful.”

      And so are you, I want to answer. Despite what I’ve just—finally!—realized, Drew is still every bit as gorgeous as he was ten long years ago. His hair is shorter and he’s groomed and elegant, but beneath his sharp suit I know his body will still be perfect.

      “Er…um…thank you.” I stammer.

      How can my body be so stupid? I’m getting turned on again, even though I know he’s totally off limits.

      “He’s right, Cait…the years have been kind to you. You look amazing. I love you with your hair shorter like that.”

      Steve, always the shyer one, has grown in confidence. And in desirability. He has a new self-assurance, and even though he’s dressed more casually than Drew, he has a similar natural elegance.

      “Thanks…you don’t like so bad yourself…” I turn to Drew. “Or you…”

      They smile, exchange glances.

      “I…er…are you?”

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