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  Wrong fingers. Too thick, too rough, too long. He opened his eyes right into Jason’s.

  “I’m horny.” Jason squeezed his hand.

  “Where’s Lauren?” Russell swiped his hand away and sat up. The room was fuzzy and he reached over to the nightstand to find his glasses. The moment they were on everything became clear. “Oh man.” The door hung on one hinge, clothes were tossed everywhere, a table was turned on its side, the bedding was in various states of disarray and the room reeked of sex.

  “I would say she went on calls.” The bed creaked when Jason sat up. “I mean she always goes to work on Saturday morning. Lots of doctor’s offices are open now.”

  Lauren never left her bed before ten o'clock on Saturday, let alone be of the house at eight. Her absence this morning, coupled with the obvious, deliberate act of leaving without waking them, told him they made a grave error last night. If she wanted to leave before, now she had every reason. "I think your plan was a bunch of crap. We should have talked to her first." As he turned to Jason, his hand brushed against his cock. "Damn it."

  "There's too much talking in this world. We needed to act." Jason raised his chin. "Let me see."

  "See what?" Russell fell back on the pillow. Again, he needed to be the one to fix Jason's plan. He always played the role of the human mop.

  "Your woody. We can't really do anything until we take care of business, our heads won't be clear." Jason grabbed the edge of the sheet. "I'll show you mine."

  "I don't want to see yours." He squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, trying to focus on how to preserve anything with the one woman who understood him.

  "We were supposed to be inside her right now." Jason adjusted his pillow. "I wanted to go first this time."

  "Be quiet."

  "We probably should talk about this. Do you think there's a protocol? Or maybe we're setting the protocol." Jason chuckled. "I'm not even sure what I liked better, watching her or doing her."

  "I didn't think I would like watching as much as I did." The image of Lauren riding his best friend entered his mind, and his waning erection became ridged again.

  "When you made her come the first time I could hardly hold it in. I knew how wet she was going to be when she lowered herself down on me. I slid right in, no resistance."

  "She was completely ready when I entered her." He arched his back.

  "I have to jack off, I can't even get off the bed. Damn it, we were supposed to be fucking her right now."

  The bed started to shake, a rhythm every man knew all too well. "Asshole."

  "I'm so hard just thinking about last night. Come on."

  It was always Jason. Jason who got him to skip class. Jason who got him drunk when they were sixteen. Jason who decided they should both be with Lauren.

  "Oh God this feels good. Lauren's mouth would be better though. I want to see her suck you off." Jason inhaled. "I gotta slow down, you need to join me."

  Russell faced him. Jason's erection and hand tented the sheet.

  He balled his hand into fist. In the course of thirteen hours he had sex with one of his best friends and helped his other best friend have sex with her. Masturbating with Jason pushed the limit too far. "Raise your hands!"

  Jason instantly obeyed, in the process flinging the sheet off himself, and giving Russell a one member salute.

  "Cover yourself." He shook his head.

  "You need to decide what I'm doing. I really thought of all mornings today I wouldn't be jacking off, or trying to." Jason retrieved the sheet. "Don't worry, I have a plan."

  "No…You…Don't." He managed to get those three words out through clenched teeth.

  Jason stretched. "Everything here is not only completely fixable, it is going to be better."

  It may always be Jason, but not this time. "You are insane. Do you know that? You are insane, and not in that awesome artist insanity that makes you cut off an ear, you are the kind of crazy that should be in an institution." He pointed at his best friend. "This couldn't be worse, and it's not fixable."

  "Why do you always have a little black rain cloud over your head?" Jason wiggled his fingers over his head.

  Russell rubbed his forehead, pausing to try to think of anything positive, but only summoning the vision of a picture Jason drew of him in the fifth grade with a little black rain cloud above his head. "Let's analyze this."

  "Don't play computer consultant with me." Jason laughed.

  "Do it for me." He lowered his voice.

  As if giving him permission to go ahead, Jason held out his hand.

  "Lauren told us she wanted to move out." He held up one finger.

  "We had sex with her last night." Jason shrugged.

  He held up a second finger. "We destroyed her room."

  "We had sex with her last night."

  "We made her cry." Russell held up his third finger and put his hand in Jason's face.

  "We had sex with her last night." Jason flipped him the bird.

  He raised his fourth finger. "She's not here now."

  "We had sex with her last night." Jason repeated again.

  "We had sex with her last night!" He put his hand down. "Exactly, we had sex with her last night." He waited for Jason to process his words.

  Jason strummed his fingers on the bed. "Great sex."

  With no retort, Russell blinked, still wanting an epiphany from his best friend who orchestrated this mess.

  Jason put his hands behind his head and reclined. "Tell me it was not the best sex you ever had."

  He grabbed his lower lip and remembered the last time he had sex. It wasn't great. Okay, maybe it wasn't even good. No it wasn't good. It was average, but not bad. He came.

  "It sucked, you told me so yourself. Don't try to justify it because you had an orgasm. It doesn't take that much for a guy to get off. If you would have let me continue this morning, I would have got myself off in five to seven more strokes."

  Fine, it sucked. He found it strange that he could come but it not be fulfilling, but what stuck out more than the sex that night was how he laid there for hours trying to figure out how not to date that woman again.

  "What do you want right now?" Jason sat up again. "If Lauren was here would you have been trying to figure out how to repair our friendship after we took it too far, or would we have been all enjoying each other?"

  "You already know the answer to that." The best sex of his life took place with his two best friends.

  "Then what would have happened?" Jason kept going. "Would we have had this great weekend?"

  Yes, he pictured this incredible weekend. He didn't dare think of what were to happen beyond the weekend, he never imagined it would get this far, but right now he wanted it back. For once, deal with the repercussions later. "She's probably walking up and down Rodeo trying to figure out her life." Did they go get her? Could the three of them go out in public? He didn't really think about that either. The gallery was one thing, but the real world was another story.

  "She probably wrangled Anne to go to that store she likes, and then she will drive around looking for apartments listening to vintage hair band ballads." Jason filled in the rest.

  Both of them nodded in unison.

  "We need to find her, get her to come home." That was the sum total or Russell's own great plan. "We need to talk to her."

  "You think small."

  "No?" He narrowed his eyes. "Your plan on just reacting on our instinct hasn't worked out so well. In case you haven't realized, Lauren isn't here and she still wants to move out."

  "I say if she wants to move out we let her." Jason gave him the grin. The grin where only one side of his mouth lifted. The one where Russell always got into trouble.

  "We're going to let her move out?" His best friend was truly out of his mind.

  Jason kept the grin on his face and got out of bed. "We had sex with her last night."

  He groaned and climbed out of bed as well. They weren’t getting anywhere. "This room i
s a disaster area of our making."

  "Let me be the silver lining to your little black rain cloud." Jason bent down and picked up a pair of jeans. "I think these are yours." He tossed them on the bed. "Let's clean up."

  He took his pants. "I'm not taking a shower with you."

  ***

  "I thought we were going to walk down Rodeo." Anne Blumefield crossed her arms.

  Lauren glanced up at the street sign on the corner. "We're on Rodeo." She adjusted her sunglasses, touched the top of her head and winced. Maybe she should have brushed her hair before she forced it into a ponytail. "What's wrong?"

  Her girlfriend shook her head. "You are a mess. What were you doing?"

  She sucked in her cheeks preventing any words from exiting her mouth before she was ready. What was she doing? Well, last night she had sex with her roommates. She followed that extravaganza up by waking up between them. Somehow she managed to shimmy away without waking them and drove around for three hours before calling Anne to ask if she wanted to stroll Rodeo with her while she tried to think of where to go after she moved out tonight. "I was at corporate yesterday."

  "Oh." Anne came over and hooked her arm in hers. "I hate when I have to go up, its two weeks of memorizing and training the latest drug rules. All you have to do is learn about the stuffer or fluffer. You have it easy, you're not a real pharm rep."

  "I sell to doctors." Lauren took a breath.

  "You sell cosmetic fillers. They like to see you. You make them money because they sell your stuff. Plus the staff vies for your attention to get free vials of filler." Anne sighed and put head on Lauren's shoulder. "I sell antibiotics and beg for prescriptions. The staff only loves me if they're sick, and I can't even give away pens anymore."

  Lauren straightened up. Aesthetics was the crown jewel of pharmaceutical sales. "I am more of a practice consultant."

  Anne faced her. "So what went on at corporate? Is everything okay? You're so busy maybe they should split your territory."

  She mustered up a one sided smile. "Raise and new title, sorry."

  Anne put her lower lip out. "If you were celebrating last night, why didn't you invite me?"

  They walked down the street. "I wasn't celebrating." Some would disagree. Her body would disagree. The two orgasms she had with the two men she wanted since college would disagree.

  "Oh." Anne patted her back. "You had to fly, poor baby. Well, it's better than your driving."

  "Driving in Los Angeles isn't easy."

  "There's a reason for the saying nobody walks in LA. You can't even parallel park."

  She was going to remind Anne that she didn't have to parallel park, her company paid for valet parking and she wasn't required to troll for meters, but they stopped at the corner. The corner. The corner with the store. "Oh my God."

  Anne groaned. "Let's go in and get it over with."

  She swallowed and glanced up at the golden letters that made out the store's logo teasing all the patrons of Rodeo drive to step inside and gaze at the unattainable. "Jacques."

  "Come on." Anne tugged her.

  "I don't look right." Maybe along with combing her hair she should have put on something other than a pair of jeans and Jason's t-shirt hidden by a black jacket. She tilted her neck from side to side trying to relieve the tension. For the ten seconds it took to talk about her job she didn't think about them, but she was certain if she held the shirt up to her nose it would smell like Jason's soap and Russell's cologne.

  "You look so bad that maybe they'll think you actually have money and they'll show you one of the purses." Anne let go of her and opened the door. "Leave your sunglasses on."

  The best part about walking over the gilded threshold was the scent of leather, silk and cash overpowered anything that would waft up from under her jacket.

  Anne headed straight to the counter.

  "Wait." Lauren lunged for her, trying not to make a scene. Every time she came in here she felt like a five-ton elephant walking through a bakery asking for a cupcake. Everyone knew she didn't belong, but no one would dare tell her.

  "We have to ask." Anne slapped her hand down on the glass.

  A sales lady in a grey suit and wearing one of the store's impossible-to-get belts turned to her. "Can I help you?"

  "My friend has a question." Anne pointed to her.

  Lauren tensed, her body unable to carry her the three feet to the counter. Her mouth dried out.

  "Miss Redmond." Anne prodded.

  She straightened up and stepped forward glancing down at the bracelets, the small leather goods, and the pens all kept pristine behind glass. Everything with the logo that told the world you didn't just make it, you really made it, or more likely your husband made it. One had to go about asking for the purse in the right way. There was a protocol. "May I see that pencil please?"

  The sales person opened the case, took out the writing implement and handed it to her.

  She held the pencil emblazoned with the Jacques logo and a design definitive of this designer. "Does this go through a normal sharpener?"

  The sales person nodded.

  She was about to ask if it were a number two pencil, but held back. Only in this store would a pencil cost more than a hundred dollars, and she handed the pencil back. "You know instead of this I would like to see a Valerie bag please."

  Anne leaned over the counter.

  The sales woman pursed her lips. "We have none in stock."

  "Liar." Anne coughed.

  Anne had no fear and no filter, which was exactly why selling antibiotics from a prewritten script suited her, but Lauren was the filler sales person to the stars, or at least the star's doctors, and this sales person should be thrilled to serve her. She cleared her throat. "A Valerie bag. You must have one in the back."

  "There is a six month waiting list. The deposit is $10,000 and the person in charge of the Valerie bags is not here. You must make an appointment." She held her arm up and motioned toward some purses on the shelves behind her. "I have many other bags."

  No. There were no other bags. "Thank you, I will think about making an appointment." She backed away. "Come on, Anne."

  Anne shrugged her shoulders and followed her out. "Wimp. You know they have one, you should have asked for the manager."

  She returned to Rodeo and walked to the corner of Little Santa Monica. The store wouldn't be nearly as grand if it weren't on the grand street. "What color would you get?"

  "What?" Anne stopped next to her.

  "What color Valerie bag? Would you get black to go with everything, or would you get a statement color?" She touched her head once more and sighed. Along with combing her hair she probably should have washed it.

  "Does the color matter as long as an MD buys it? More like Dr. Dalton." Anne elbowed her.

  Dr. Dalton. Dr. Gregory Dalton. The plastic surgeon, with the practice and the clientele. He was young, virile, well-off and her number one account. Before her mother died she told her to marry a doctor and she would have a good, stable life with no worries. Dr. Dalton fit the scrubs she was after. "Whatever." She needed to remember it wasn't the purse, it was the purse purchaser. She would never have anything if she didn't move out and away from temptation and now she knew how tempting. She swore she could still feel them throughout her body. "We should have gone to Orange and gone antiquing."

  "Orange County?" Anne moved in front of her. "What is your deal today?"

  "I think I need to go apartment hunting."

  "What?" Anne grabbed her shoulders. "What happened to the boys? Is Russell okay?"

  Somehow Lauren thought her friend should be asking if she were okay. "Russell is fine. I just think it's time for me to move on. I'm never going to have a boyfriend if I don't move out." Jason and Russell were guy repellent, especially if she wanted a man like Dr. Dalton.

  "You're still talking to them, right?" Anne gripped her tighter. "Russell is going to the charity ball, right?"

  "Yes, everything is fine." She opened her
own bag and found her car keys. No, not a Valerie, a bag Jason picked out for her because it fit all her items, and was made by an artisan in Hollywood. He said it was a real one-of-a-kind. "It was just a thought."

  "Well maybe if you moved out not only would you be more available, but Russell would be as well." Anne chuckled. "I'll go hunting with you. I think there are some cute places by mine, or did that raise of yours net you something in the heart of Beverly Hills?"

  She wanted to tell Anne she not only got a monetary raise, but two others, and one raise was one Anne would die for - Russell's. "You know I think I'm going to go home and clean up. I'll call you later."

  "I'll be glad to help you. You should move out." Anne grabbed her arm.

  She stared at her friend and swore the woman was fighting a smile with the way the corner of her mouth twitched. "I'll let you know."

  This was something she was going to have to do alone, or at least with her and some vintage hair band ballads playing in the background.

  Chapter Five

  The lights on the houses illuminated her path, each one uniform as if all the owners planned a trail of golden beams to lead her to her home on her last night. They rented the house in West Hollywood one week after graduating college. By then Russell had his job at the financial firm only six miles away on Wilshire, she had her first job as a sales rep in the Los Angeles territory, and Jason insisted Hollywood inspired his creativity.

  On their first night, Jason complained about the lights, called them boring, and the next day she and Jason drove to three different stores to find a purple light bulb to fit their lamp. Every night since, the golden lights led her to the one purple outcast, and when she saw it, she knew she was home.

  However, tonight no purple glow met her. The house stood dark. No purple glow, no lights from inside, nothing. In all the years of living with her men she never remembered coming home to a dark house.

  She pulled into the driveway and rested her head on the steering wheel. This couldn't be her home any longer, and they weren't her men. All day she drove around trying to figure out what happened. With no answers, she knew she needed to buck up and grow up, cut herself loose. They coddled her, and now she had to move on, or one day she would be left alone.