The Card Game with My Husband and My Co-Worker

Very little changed after that winter. Our life as a couple went on as always, calm and companionable, and nothing went wrong with Adrián either. At the office we treated each other the same as before, even when, without looking for it, we found ourselves alone together in the meeting room or by the coffee machine. We never mentioned what had happened again. It was as if we had signed a pact of silence without ever having negotiated it.

I took it as part of the arrangement my husband and I had reached that time. But I never forgot that day. In fact, more than once it came back to me in my alone time, a recurring image that sent my pulse racing. And, from something Adrián let slip then, I’m convinced he felt the same.

It was already well into spring when the ghost of that encounter hovered back over our bed. It must have been around four in the morning on a Saturday. I’d woken from a strange dream, something about salt water and sand, with a dry throat and a body on fire. I went downstairs to the kitchen, drank a glass of juice, and climbed back under the sheets naked.

Bruno was asleep on his stomach, peaceful. I took his sleeping hand and guided it between my legs, first for me, while he slowly emerged from unconsciousness and took the lead. And that was when, once he was already holding me from behind and moving inside me, what neither of us dared say out loud came out.

—Would you like us to invite Adrián to dinner one day? —he whispered in my ear, between slow thrusts.

The question threw me off. I don’t know what surprised me more, the coincidence that we were both thinking the same thing or that he had dared to say it.

—And you? —I replied, throwing it back at him while I controlled the sway of my hips so he wouldn’t slip out of me.

—Yes. If you want it, I do too —he answered, not committing himself any further than necessary.

—Just for dinner? —I shot back, with the wickedness aroused desire gave me.

—Well. Afterward we could play something, if you’d like —he murmured, his voice broken.

And that was the end of the conversation, carried off by the swell of an orgasm that caught us both at once. Inconclusive, but not imprecise.

***

The following Friday, as we said goodbye in the company parking lot, I asked Adrián whether he’d like to share a table that night at our place. He went red to the ears, but he said yes. I told Bruno over lunch, with plenty of time to cancel any plan, of course. He had some doubts, but he never actually said no. His biggest objection was the menu, or the lack of one. Nothing we couldn’t solve with a couple of pizzas and a pack of beers.

Around seven the parade of showers and wardrobes began. We both dressed comfortably, neither too formal nor too much like homebodies. A polo shirt and Bermuda shorts for him. A tank top and calf-length leggings for me. Underneath, though, I was more careful. I chose a beautiful white lingerie set, with a thong whose front was sheer enough to let someone guess I was completely shaved without needing to take it off. And that was all. Whatever happened, someone was going to enjoy it that night.

Dinner went on normally. As the minutes passed, the three of us loosened up. We talked mostly about the office, its messes and its incompetence, a subject Bruno knew perfectly well, so he was never left out of the conversation. When we finished, the three of us tidied up, and once in the kitchen my husband invited us into the living room while he prepared drinks. Malibu with pineapple for me, a stronger mixed drink for the other two, and a bowl of popcorn to go with the anecdotes.

That was when, with the glasses now filled only with melted ice water, I jumped into the void.

—Do you feel like playing something? —I asked, throwing Bruno a challenging look, trying to gauge how far he wanted to go, if there was still any road left to travel at that point.

His answer surprised me in a good way. He got up, rummaged in the drawers of the sideboard until he found a deck of cards, and put it on the coffee table.

—Do you know high card? —he asked—. It’s very simple, just in case. We play high card. The winner is the mistress, the one who draws the lowest loses an item. The mistress can command either of the other two. And if two or three cards are the same, we all lose an item. Okay?

—Fine by me —I replied, not caring in the least which format he chose.

—Me too —Adrián repeated, like a nervous echo.

—All right, then —Bruno went on with the rules—. You can’t order anything that involves taking off clothes.

—And how long do the orders last? —Adrián asked, to the surprise of both of us, as if he had suddenly become aware of the true intentions behind all that theater.

—The sum of the cards on the table. Does that sound okay?

—I think that’s too little —I countered with a smile.

—All right —my husband huffed, going back to the sideboard and taking a die—. The sum of the cards multiplied by the die roll. Better that way?

—Mhm —Adrián and I nodded at the same time.

***

If there’s one thing that characterizes Bruno, it’s the incredible bad luck he always has with cards. Especially when I’m the one across from him. I think it took barely seven hands before he was completely naked, although maybe this time it didn’t seem so bad to him. For my part, I had only lost my pants, which was no small thing, and Adrián had lost his T-shirt. The orders, still timid and limited by clothing, had been heating up the atmosphere.

Even more so after the next play, in which I drew the lowest card, leaving Adrián in his underwear and finally handing the control over to my husband.

—Well? What’s it going to be? —I asked, puffing up my voice like a butler.

Bruno looked at us smiling. He rolled the die, added, and multiplied. Forty-five seconds. Better than nothing.

—Vera, I want you to take Adrián’s briefs off with your teeth —he declared.

And, since I had to obey, I decided to do it while adding a little more salt to the scene. I advanced on all fours toward Adrián, who shifted in the armchair to make the task easier for me. Once I was at his height, I held his hip and carefully bit down on the elastic waistband.

—No hands —I heard from behind me.

—Okay —I answered—. No hands it is.

I tugged hard and pulled the front down until it caught on the tip of a more than obvious erection. I looked for the sides, the back, tried to do the same from every angle, but it was useless. Adrián still had his briefs on because his own arousal kept them from falling.

—I’ve got a problem —I told Bruno, looking at him with a fake pitiful face—. His cock doesn’t want me to take them off him.

I knew perfectly well how much he got turned on when I used that kind of language in private. I can imagine what hearing it in those circumstances must have been like for him.

—All right —he said, visibly flushed with embarrassment—. I’ll let you use one hand, but only for a second.

I wrapped my fingers around Adrián’s shaft. I had missed that feel, that heat, that hardness. I slowly pulled down the front and finally freed the garment, letting his glans brush my cheek. I shifted a little, and a low sigh escaped my coworker’s mouth. But the time was up, and now the two of them were completely naked in the living room of my house.

***

That, really, had only been the warm-up. We dealt the cards again, and this time fortune smiled on me: I drew the highest card and became the mistress. I rolled the die calmly, did the math, and looked at the two naked men waiting in front of me, seated on the sofa, not knowing what to do with their hands.

—Adrián —I said, savoring every syllable—, I want you to get down on your knees in front of me.

He did it without protest. I slid my white thong down to my ankles and kicked it aside. I held his head and pulled him toward me. I didn’t have to say anything else. His tongue moved slowly, with an almost reverent attention, while I searched for my husband with my eyes. Bruno was stroking himself slowly, not missing a single detail, and I liked that image more than I expected: him watching, Adrián on his knees, me in control of both of them.

—Don’t stop —I ordered Adrián when he tried to take a breath—. Not yet.

The clock on the command was running in my favor. I leaned back against the armchair, spread my legs a little wider, and let the tension of the whole night gather in one point. When it came, I bit my lip to keep from crying out too loudly and dug my fingers into Adrián’s hair until the last shudder ran all the way through me.

—Now you —I told Bruno, still breathless—. Come here.

The cards, the die, and the clothes were left forgotten on the table. The rules were no longer needed. I pulled my husband to the armchair and kissed him like I hadn’t kissed him in months, while Adrián, behind me, traced my back with his mouth. Having the two of them at once, feeling two pairs of hands claiming me at the same time, was exactly what I had been imagining in my alone time for weeks.

I straddled Bruno, facing him, so I could see his expression when he entered me. Adrián waited his turn with a patience I was grateful for, caressing my hips, until I guided him myself. What came next had nothing to do with a board game. It was slow at first and then it wasn’t. My husband held my waist, Adrián set the pace from behind, and I only had to let myself be carried between the two of them, trading kisses, gasps, and orders that no one bothered to follow to the letter anymore.

I don’t know how long it lasted. I do know the three of us ended up tangled together on the sofa, breathless, laughing softly at how absurd and wonderful the situation was. Bruno kissed my temple. Adrián, still not fully catching his breath, was the first to speak.

—And how are we supposed to act toward each other on Monday at the office now?

I laughed against my husband’s chest.

—The same as always —I answered—. As if nothing had happened.

And, just like the other time, that’s how it was. At work we kept being our usual selves, proper and distant, with that pact of silence we never needed to negotiate. But the two drinks left half-finished that night were only the first. Because something tells me, from the way Adrián looks at me now when we end up alone by the coffee machine, that this game has only just begun.