Alternatives

It was an intoxicating feeling, wedged in the small booth between them.

Evan was on her right, his bare calf against hers in the small booth, not bothering to give her space. Their connection, that familiarity, didn’t require him to heed her personal space, even in public. It was cramped and noisy; when he talked to her, he had to lean in close to her, letting his arm rest against hers, his lips graze her cheeks or her ears when he spoke. She would rest her hand on his arm as she talked, feeling the soft blonde hairs under her skin, and his voice would send chills down her spine, regardless of the topic. The dim bar lights caught the flash in his crystal blue eyes, and she found herself staring at his mouth when he smiled, imagining running her tongue over his perfect teeth. Not something she’d actually done, except in every third dream for the past two years or something like that. Sometimes, she was certain he had the same dreams, too. Not that they were completely unfounded. She still remembered the night they almost kissed. It still made her groin ache to think of it, and sometimes, when they’d dance around the subject, she was certain he was uncomfortably aroused too. They’d held themselves in check, but not for the wanting. She couldn’t count the nights she’d drive home from work after some innuendo-filled conversation, her heart racing and nerves tingling, and shut herself in her room trying to find release.

Daniel was on her left, with his hazel eyes and a lazy smile. He sat with a casual indifference, his arm draped on the outside edge of the C-shaped booth for three, running his hand occasionally through the flop of auburn hair across his forehead. But his thigh pressed tight against hers spoke of want and need and possession. In a previous night, much like this night, after a late night in some hotel conference room prepping for the next day’s sales presentation, they’d shared a beer, or three, a few stories, and on her way out of the elevator to her room, he’d pulled her back, kissing her hard. She’d kissed back, and over the next few months, regardless of all her reservations about having any kind of relationship like this with someone she worked with, all resolve had weakened, and they had given in on more than one occasion. She felt a flutter just thinking about it, knowing that at some point, he too had imagined a stolen moment sometime on this sales jaunt. Her back pressed up against the wall in the hotel room, his hand sliding up her skirt, his teeth catching her lips. But for now, it was only the heat from his thigh.

Now, sitting between them, working her way through a second margarita, she started to feel dizzy, though less from the alcohol than from the sheer emotional rush. She loved them both dearly, as friends, almost like brothers. She respected them both as colleagues. But it was like she’d been thrown into some Jerry Springer episode where by the end of the show she was supposed to have chosen between them and it was starting to make her head spin. Funny thing is, right now, she couldn’t make a choice.

She needed to clear her head. She put down her drink. “Upstairs,” she said, looking from one of them to the next. “We’re dancing.” She knew neither of them was crazy about dancing, but she knew that they’d go with her. They stood, and she slid out too, pointing the way to the back stairs. Evan started to lead the way, and she followed, Daniel close behind.

It was a crowded place and they wound their way through people carefully. When they got to the stairs, Evan blocked some space and Daniel went ahead, leading. She followed close behind, one hand stretched out in front of her to thread her way through the crowd, and one hand stretched back. When Daniel had gotten a few steps ahead of her, she felt Evan’s fingers grab hers. She tried to tell herself that he was just making it easier for them to thread through the crowd and stay together, but she felt his fingers intertwine with hers and tighten. She wished they had more stairs to climb. He held on to her through the crowd, but when the crowd thinned and Daniel was in sight again, he dropped her hand carefully. Her fingers still burned with the heat.

They refilled their drinks at the upstairs bar, the guys ordering another bottle of beer, and she refilling the margarita. She sipped at it, licking the salt from the rim, feeling the heat from their arms on either side of her. Making a decision, she set her glass down and announced “I need to dance,” glancing at each of them in turn, then turning her back toward them as she moved toward the dance floor. It was a fast song, one that she could lose herself in the crowd if neither one of them joined her. She closed her eyes and began to sway, raising her arms and spinning.

When she opened her eyes, they had both followed her. Daniel still held his bottle of beer and swigged from it occasionally as he swayed in time to the music. She smiled, and moved closer to him, and he draped his free arm around her waist and moved in time with her. She turned her back to him, and swayed against his hip, his hand still on her hip. She looked across the dance space at Evan, and his eyes flickered, his finger beckoning. She moved forward, placing one foot between his two feet, and one on the outside of his left leg, and he put his hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer. She straddled his leg as they moved, and she could feel his cheek against hers. The room was dark but she could feel a flush rise in her face; she knew his fair skin had to be burning at this point. She lowered her head slightly, just enough so that her lips brushed against his neck at the edge of his t-shirt; then she turned around with her back to him.

The bass pounded harder as the song changed, and she ground her hips, occasionally brushing against him. She thought about moving closer to Daniel, but felt Evan’s fingers catch the back of her jean skirt, his fingers grazing the skin of her lower back and he held onto her. Daniel moved closer, unaware that Evan had made contact, and he moved his hips with hers, staring into her eyes, raising his eyebrow. She closed her eyes and turned with her back to Daniel, letting her head drop back and her hair brush against him, his hand reaching up to touch the middle of her back. She felt Evan’s fingers slide around her waistband as she turned, brushing past her navel and making her shiver, finally releasing his hold. When she opened her eyes, Evan held a hand out and she took it, letting him pull her closer for a turn, spinning her around before he caught her and moved with her.

The crowd had gotten bigger, so that when the song ended, she found herself wedged between Evan and Daniel on the dance floor, the three of them breathing hard. She fanned her face, declaring “I need a drink,” and headed toward the bar, unsure of who to look at. They followed her in turn, and stood on the outskirts of the crowd, alternately watching the other dancers and her. She excused herself to the ladies room, and stood at the sink, holding the edges and staring at her own face, then splashing some water on it, trying to think straight. The crowd in the small bathroom was getting bigger and she walked back to the bar at the edge of the dance floor where they waited. The lights for last call flashed, and she could see the flush of pink in Evan’s cheeks, and the dark glow in Daniel’s eyes.

“We’re going to head back to the hotel,” Evan said, and Daniel nodded. Her heart raced, not wanting this to end, unsure of what was next. She climbed in the backseat of the car as Evan slipped into the driver’s seat, and Daniel stretched out his legs in the front passenger seat. She leaned forward onto the console as they drove, her hands resting on both seat backs, acutely aware of their shoulders resting against her fingers.

In the elevator, Daniel pushed the 3rd floor. He looked over his shoulder at Evan, and said “Room?” Evan said “405” and Daniel pushed the 4th floor button. Daniel looked back at her and said “Room?” and she blurted out “515,” noticing that they both looked up, then looked quickly down. Daniel got off first, and addressed them both, but looked at her “Breakfast tomorrow?” and they both nodded. Evan moved closer as the doors closed, and she could smell his cologne, and she rubbed her temples, trying to clear her head. He lingered some as the door opened, looking back at her. “Need anything? Tylenol or something?” he asked, knowing full well she carried a complete arsenal for her frequent headaches. She wanted to say yes, but shook her head, holding his gaze as the door closed and the elevator lurched upward to the 5th floor.

Her fingers shook as she slid the key card into the room door. Closing the door behind her she kicked off her heels, and the phone started to ring. She picked it up to find Daniel on the other line. “Want to meet downstairs for breakfast, or should I come by and get you?” he asked, even though they’d been meeting downstairs each day for the last two days. She wanted to say “come by” but agreed to meet him downstairs, then hung up the phone. It rang in her hand. Evan. Reminding her to drink water and take Tylenol before bed, w anting to know if she had enough. She thanked him, sensed hesitation as he looked for more conversation, and mumbled a goodnight to him.

She threw herself on the bed, groaning. Replaying the events of the night; reliving the torture of sitting between the two of them, wanting them both. She pulled a pillow over her face and groaned into it, biting it, then rolled over on top of it. Her mind was racing and her body followed; sleep was not going to come easy. She lay on the bed in her clothes, but turned out the light, staring into the dark of the room, lit only by the clock radio.

The knock at the door startled her and sent her heart racing. Knowing it would be one of them. Not knowing who, or for what purpose. A second knock sounded softly, and she got out of bed. Mechanically, she walked to the door, about to peer out the peephole; instead, she turned, leaning back against the door, her hand on the handle. She counted to five, wanting to look out and know before she opened the door. But then, she thought, did it matter?

She closed her eyes, her heart hammering in her throat, turned the handle, and swung the door open slowly.