The Mammoth Book of Threesomes and Moresomes (10 page)

“Water? Pop? Smokes?” The vendor strolling the beach was male, stocky, white. He swung a bright red cooler from either hand. He wore sturdy rubber sandals, a money pouch around his waist, a sun visor on his head and a bow tie around his neck, all in the same red as the coolers. Nothing else. Tad’s face as he spied him was a picture.

“We don’t have anything like this in Seattle,” he murmured.

“Hey, Philip,” I called out.

The vendor smiled when he saw me, and came over. “Hey, Shuck,” he said. “Nice day, eh?”

“Beauty,” I agreed.

Tad quirked an eyebrow at me. “Beauty?”

I shrugged. “Been here three years. Starting to talk like the locals.” Philip snickered.

“You guys thirsty?” I asked them. They nodded. So I bought some pop from Philip.

“Smokes?” Philip asked again. “I got tobacco and, um, herbal.”

“Reefer?” asked Tad. “You selling reefer out in the open like this?”

Philip just grinned.

“Shuck,” said Tad, “we’re the only black people as far as the eye can see. You know that if some shit goes down with the cops, we’ll be the ones doing jail time, not him.”

“Just chill, man,” Philip told him. The borrowed black phrase sounded odd in a white Vancouverite’s mouth. But hell, probably no odder than me saying, “beauty”.

“This is Vancouver,” I told Tad.
“And
it’s Wreck Beach. If the cops start picking people up here for smoking weed, the jail’ll be overflowing in an hour.”

Tad shook his head. “S’all right anyway, man,” he told Philip. “Thank you.”

“You guys have a good day, then,” Philip replied. He nodded at me and continued down the beach.

I turned to hand a can of pop to Jamal, and my mouth went dry. He’d kicked off his sandals. As I watched, he stripped off his tank top and shorts and slipped out of the skimpy black jock he was wearing underneath. When he bent, the hollow that muscle made at the side of his butt cheek was deep enough that I could have laid my fist inside it. Graceful as a dancer, he flicked the jock off, tossed it on the pile of his clothing, rolled it all up into a cylinder, and stood. Tad gave his lover’s body an admiring gaze. Jamal took the can of pop I held out towards him; somehow managed to do so without looking directly at me.

For a while we all just stood, uncomfortably silent. Sucking on the drinks gave us something to do with our hands. I led them to a pile of flat rocks, comfortable as armchairs. We sat and looked at the people around us, looked out to sea, anywhere but at each other.

Not too many people out today; it was early fall, and a little bit chilly for the beach. Two more nudists were playing frisbee not too far from us; both appeared to be in their sixties. He was tanned with a fall of long white hair tied into a ponytail, and elaborate mustachios. Both forearms a rainbow of tattoos. He carried his firm pot belly on his sturdy thighs like a treasure chest. She had long, blonde hair, a beautiful and weathered face, a toughness and pride to her movements. She had knotted a burgundy lace shawl around her hips, not that it hid anything. It seemed to be just for pretty. And she was pretty. Her breasts bounced and jiggled as she leaped, laughing, for the frisbee. She caught it, went and took the man by the hand. Together they walked over to a group of three children frolicking by the rocks. They had a family picnic over there, spread out on towels.

“There are kids here,” said Tad.

“Yeah. Everybody comes.”

“Doesn’t it get a little … racy for them to be out here?”

“No. Anybody starts to make out in public, people will stop them.”

“Oh.” He looked a little disappointed.

“Of course, what happens in the bushes isn’t exactly public …”

Jamal snickered.

“… I’m sure there’s a lot that goes on that we don’t see.” Hell, I’d played my own reindeer games here. That night with Sula and the mosquitoes, for example. No one was allowed down here at night, but we’d managed.

Over to our right, a young woman sat fully clothed on the sand, her knapsack beside her. She had a sketchbook. She seemed to be drawing the mountains in the distance. The two surfer dudes we’d seen earlier were skimming wake boards in the shallowest part of the water, hopping on to them and riding parallel with the shore.

“There’s nobody in the water,” Jamal said.

“Nah, not much. It’s cold and there aren’t any waves. That’s not the attraction of this beach.”

“No?” Jamal replied, a teasing tone to his voice. “Then what is?”

Tad gasped and grabbed my arm. “What’s that?” he hissed. He pointed out into the water.

Jamal looked where Tad had pointed. “Shit. Is it a dog?”

I smiled. “Seal. Harbour seal.”

“For real? A live seal?”

“For real.”

The seal had surfaced not twenty feet off shore, only its head visible. Its fur was black and shiny, its eyes large and curious in its big, round head. It was staring at the surfer dudes.

“It’s just curious,” I said. “Don’t make eye contact with it …”

Too late. The seal had turned to look at us and had seen us staring. Shy and cautious, it disappeared back into the water.

“Fuck, that’s wonderful,” whispered Tad.

“Yeah,” Jamal replied. He leaned back against Tad’s chest with a happy sigh. He leaned over, patted my hand. “Shuck, thank you for letting us visit. Really.”

“No problem.” They were gorgeous, sitting in a love knot like that. I think that was the moment I decided to see if I could turn them both on to me, just for the afternoon.

“Hold this for me will you, baby?” Tad handed Jamal his empty pop can and whipped his shirt off. He’d gotten a belly since I saw him last, and his arms and thighs were heavier.

“Being in love suits you, sweetie,” I told him. “You look good.”

He looked embarrassed. “Fat, you mean.”

“No, I mean good. Like you’d be good to hold.”

Tad raised an eyebrow at me. Jamal chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I just wrap my arms and legs around him and ride all night.”

I gave them both a measuring stare. “Yeah, I can imagine.” Jamal stared me back down. Tad just looked uncomfortable. Shit. Had I pushed too far? Maybe this was a bad idea. Tad was my friend, had stood by me all these years. Didn’t want to ruin that over a fuck. Better ease up a little, figure myself out. I stood up and said, “OK. Let me take you to where the boys are.”

Never mind the cooler weather, gay Wreck Beach was hopping. A large man in a small, frilly apron circulated through the crowd, selling Martinis right off the tray he balanced on one hand. There was a volleyball game going on further down the beach, a serious game. I recognized those four guys; they came down here a lot, but I never saw them cruising. They really just enjoyed being naked in the sun. One of them jumped and spiked the ball hard, sending his opponent sprawling when he tried to stop it. A few people watching them applauded. Down by the water, some diehards were trying to swim. Better them than me. They had little triangular purple flags stuck in the sand near their towels. A nudists’ club, then. Three women and a dog lolled on the sand. They nodded and smiled at me. I nodded back. A man lay on a towel on his stomach, his perfect bottom upturned invitingly to the sun, and to the eye. A few guys just strolled the beach, alone, their eyes alert for opportunity. And there was plenty. The twinks were twinkling, the bears were bare, and the bushes were shaking. Before winter, certain of the man-handling men of Vancouver seemed determined to get in every last bit of naked cruising on the beach.

It was rockier here. Back at my and Sula’s apartment, my shrine had a collection of rocks I’d collected from Wreck Beach, all colours. All worn smooth by the water. We picked our way across the rocks and sand.

The three of us had drawn instant attention the second we crossed the invisible dividing line between the straight part of the beach and this one. No surprise; we had us some permanent tans. Up in the city, being black could get you followed by security guards when you went into stores. But down here, it was a different matter. Most of the guys scoped me for a girl and immediately switched their attention to Tad and Jamal; those greedy two were loving every instant of it.

A hairy man with a tall, thin body gave Tad a melting smile. “Hello,” he said as he walked by.

Tad dipped his chin in response. “’Ssup,” he growled, all serious and street, but when the man had passed, Tad grinned and gave himself a thumbs up.

Jamal was like to get whiplash, he was working so hard at seeing everything there was to see. “It’s hog heaven up in here! ”he hissed at us. He was getting his fair share of appreciation, too.

My shoulders were getting warm from the sun. It wasn’t too bright, but it could still burn. I fished the flat plastic bottle of sunscreen out of the back pocket of my shorts and smeared some all over my upper body. Better protect the nips. Then I flipped the bottle at Jamal. “Here,” I said. “Put some sunscreen on that pretty behind.”

He caught the bottle, looked at the label, sneered at me. “Girl, what you think I need this for? Got me more melanin than alla these motherfuckers out here!”

“All right, but don’t come crying to me when your hide gets hard and leathery like somebody’s old wallet.” I held out my hand for the bottle. Jamal cut his eyes at me, but he put the sunscreen on.

An older man came walking past us. He looked white, but he was tanned a deep brick red. His skin had settled into soft folds on his body, and he clanked when he moved. I spotted a pinkie-thick rod through each nipple, plugs and multiple rings through his ears, and a bunch more rings and rods through his dick. There were probably more I wasn’t seeing. Tad shuddered, but I thought he looked really interesting. Had to admire his dedication.

Then I got a better look at one of the men coming out of the water. Could it be? I wasn’t sure. He saw us, altered his trajectory so that his path would cross ours. Dragonfly tattooed on his left thigh. Yes, it was him!

As he passed by, he looked Jamal up and down, slowly. “Mm,” he said, “chocolate.” He walked on, gazing back at Jamal now and again. He flagged down the Martini seller.

“The fuck was that?” said Jamal.

I chuckled. “He didn’t recognize me.”

“Where you know him from?” Tad asked.

“Shuck,” said Jamal, “can we find somewhere to sit that’s a little bit private? All of a sudden, I’m not digging on these guys so much any more.”

Perfect. Just my chance. “They’re not all like that, you know,” I said. But I led them to the place I had in mind: a private little patch of sand surrounded by scrubby trees. Good, no one was using it just now.

“Where do you know him from?” asked Tad again.

I pointed to a large, flat-topped rock. “You can sit there,” I told them. “It’s almost like an armchair.”

“Susanna … I know you when you get like this,” Tad said. “What’s the story with that guy?”

I grinned. “You gonna take those clothes off? It’s warm down here.”

Jamal put his clothing down on the rock and went to undo the fly on Tad’s jeans. Tad made a show of slapping his hands away, then submitted. I sat on the boulder that was conveniently near the flat rock and watched. Triumphantly, Jamal yanked the zipper down.

“Wait, sweetie, wait,” Tad said. “Gotta take the shoes off first.” With a shy glance at me, he sat on the rock, put his balled-up shirt next to Jamal’s clothing, and started taking off his runners. To keep him company, I took off my sandals, put them on the boulder beside me. Tad got his shoes and socks off, snuck me a glance again, rocked his jeans off his hips, and pulled his legs out of them. He was wearing black cotton shorts underneath. So modest. He rolled the jeans up beside the other clothing.

“Stand up,” I said. “Let me see you.”

Slowly, he did. His thighs were thick, his calves full and muscled. “Well, look at you,” I told him.

Jamal was smiling at me thoughtfully. Was he egging me on?

“Lover,” he said to Tad, “turn all the way around for your friend. Let her look at you.”

He
was
egging me on.

“Two of you are shameless,” muttered Tad, but, to my surprise, he did what Jamal asked. I took my time admiring his butt, the fullness of his belly. He turned to face me, but I’d barely glanced at his package in his shorts when he sat down. “So,” he said, faking nonchalance, “you gonna tell me about that guy?”

“You wanna know what happened, you have to take the shorts off.”

He cocked his hand on his hip. “Is the story worth it?”

“Worth seeing you in the full, glorious flesh? It’s a high price, baby, but I think I can meet it.”

He made a face at me. But he looked pleased, too. This felt good. This felt like the way we used to tease each other. I just wanted to push it up a notch, that’s all.

Maybe Tad was thinking the same thing, because all of a sudden he pulled his shorts down, stepped out of them, grabbed them up off the sand, and sat down. He tossed the shorts on to the pile of clothing and turned back to me. “There,” he said. He crossed his hands in his lap, conveniently hiding his crotch. “So, tell me the story.”

Jamal sat on the warm sand beside Tad’s knee.

“All right,” I said. “You asked for it.”

I settled comfortably on my boulder, leaned forward. “Well, Sula and I have this game, right? Every so often, one of us dares the other one to do something outrageous. If you chicken out from doing whatever it is, you lose, and you have to be the other person’s sex toy for a night; do everything they say.”

“Oo,” said Jamal. “Kinky.” He stroked Tad’s calf.

I snickered. “You don’t know the half of it. One time I lost on purpose. Could barely stand the next day, after Sula got done with me.” The memory of that night was making my nipples crinkle up. All those girly pantyhose that Sula owned had made the most fiendish restraints. I didn’t know I could bend in some of those positions.

“You’re stalling, Shuck,” said Tad.

“No, just setting the story up. Cause, this one time, I took her up on her dare. There’s this gay bar called Pump Jack’s, a men’s bar. I’ll take you there on Friday. Sula said she wanted me to go in there and get one of the guys to let me jerk him off.”

“No!” from Tad.