A few years back there was a female friend of my husband’s that we both found attractive, let’s call her . . . slag. Slag was smart, funny, sexy and a little crazy in a “I’m not sure she’s stable” way. For months I had been speculating on her willingness to have a threesome with the husband and I. This wasn’t a completely serious musing, just a semi-hypothetical to gauge where the husband was on the topic. I flirted with Slag more than once in an effort to discern if she liked women at all, but never got any real response from her. Until the night she decided to lay in our bed.
This happened after one of our parties. The husband and I were fond of throwing get togethers in our Manhattan apartment and this night was going quite well. A natural control freak, I prefer hosting because it allows me to focus on food prep and brief socializing without feeling awkward. I am a closet wallflower so keeping busy on my home turf is always good. The one thing it prevents me from doing, however, is drinking at the same rate as my guests. On this particular night everyone was slightly to majorly hammered, except for me. This was also the first of our parties that Slag had ever attended, so maybe there was a certain expectation in the air, but being pretty sober, I was not aware of it.
The hour grew late and as people began to filter out, Slag lingered and lingered and lingered until she was the last guest left. I remember her standing in the hallway dragging out conversation and then I went to clean up and when I came back into the hall I could see her in the bedroom lying on our bed. Oh yeah, you read this right. Slag was in our bed talking to the husband who was standing somewhat awkwardly across the room from her. I’m not sure what exactly happened in that moment, but I went from being the one trying to instigate a threesome with a hot chick to a “No you din’it” street brawler.
In hindsight, I think I was just too sober to properly appreciate the situation, but something about her boldness pissed me off. Bitch is lying in MY bed talking to MY husband in her coy, “I know you want me” way. Uh-uh, that shit don’t fly in my house. Not because I’m totally against hooking up with a hot chick (this isn’t my first ride at the cowgirl rodeo) or said hot chick flirting with my husband. I know he’s hot, he’s also brilliant and packing heat. My problem, was that she went to him first. Now maybe if I were drunk I’d have indulged this behavior, but any woman should know you don’t piss off the other chick. Slag’s big mistake was in attempting to seduce the husband and not me. Had she been smart enough to approach this situation with the proper respect, the end of the story might be very different.
The actual ending happened something along the lines of me handing her her coat and saying, thanks so much for keeping Jeff company while I cleaned up; be safe getting home. I do not remember the exact words I used, but I do remember the looks of shock on both my husband’s face and Slag’s. This was something I instigated and pursued, and maybe it would have happened in one of those Dear Penthouse Letters kinds of nights, but any self-respecting woman knows if you’re going to flirt with someone else’s man, you better get his woman’s approval first. My man is hot and I’m not the jealous type if I see him flirt with someone else, but I am vain and if you flirt with him when I want you to flirt with me, you better get your skanky ass out of my house in a hurry! That was the end of the semi-hypothetical threesomes, though now that I’ve made this public I suspect just the beginning of conversation for the husband and I. Oh well, I’m always in trouble for something or other.
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