“Gotcha.” Bobbie paused, “But, are you, like, okay with this?”
I sighed. Was I? Was there enough Irish whisky in the world to make me okay with what Heather was asking Sam to do?
I ended up talking to myself as much as to him, “Well, you seem like a nice guy and I’m not the jealous type – at least I don’t think I am. You’re Heather’s brother and if she thinks it would be good for you then I guess I’ll play along. I’m assuming this would be kind of a one-off. But it’s really up to Samantha. And don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not worried about you taking Sam away from me. She’s… well… she’s complicated.”
“Yeah, what about her? Is Samantha really going to go for this? Heather says she’s really open minded. This is still a crazy thing to ask though.”
I shrugged. “Heather can be pretty persuasive. As for Sam, well, she is what she is. She makes up her own mind. If she’s willing to take you under her wing, you’re a lucky fella.” I smirked. “You’d be skipping right to the advanced class.”
Heather’s voice came from upstairs, “Can you guys come on up here?”
Holy crap, it sounded like Heather had talked Sam into it.
When we made it up to the bedroom, Samantha was sitting at the foot of the bed with one leg tucked under her ass. Heather was standing next to her.
Sam craned her neck to look at me around Bobbie and she asked a one-word question that sounded nonsensical but carried all the meaning that Samantha needed just then: “Doritos?”
Hmmm… “Doritos” doesn’t have a direct translation. The closest thing might be “trust.” There’s a lot built into the word “Doritos” for Sammie. First and foremost, she’s always used it as her sexual safeword. It was easy to remember and it was so funny in a sexual context that it worked as a sort of funny escape valve.
Why did Sam need a safeword? Frankly, she liked some crazy things in bed, things even crazier than I did. And she was pretty good at talking me into playing along with her sometimes perverse fetishes. But if she changed her mind or if she needed to beg out of what we were doing because something got too weird or hurt too much or she was worried about me or Heather, Sammie just said “Doritos” and we all stopped.
She’d only bailed out on us twice. And to give you some point of reference, one of those times involved Samantha’s ill-advised attempt to “use” of both of Heather’s clenched fists. For the record, I had tried to talk the two of them out of it beforehand.
Yeeeaaah, I’ll never get that particular image out of my head: Heather grinning with determination, Sam howling in stubborn agony. Cherry-flavored lubricant was everywhere. Some things you just can’t un-see, you know?
Anyway, there in the bedroom with Heather and her brother, Sammie’s choice of her own safeword as a question carried with it all of the intimacy and trust that we had built up between us as friends, lovers, and confidants. It told me that she knew that what she wanted to do with Bobbie was crazy. It also said that she trusted me to tell her if it was going to hurt my feelings and that I should trust her that things between us wouldn’t change just because she was going to show this teenage boy the time of his life.