Three people huddled together, two men and a woman
The cab pulled up to their house, and the three got out. Diane walked across the street to the Grant home; she looked over her shoulder once as the two men entered her home. Diane walked up to the door, and she’d seen the curtains ruffle, saw a hand hesitate and then disappear as she rang the doorbell.

Dorcas opened the door, her usual fake smile plastered on her face, a noticeable scent of gin wafting around her body. 

“Diane… hello.”

“Dorcas, I’m going to get to the point. Thank you for looking out for me, for my husband and I. But, I saw you at the curtains earlier today. Our eyes locked and yet, you still called the police?”

“I was concerned, I saw that man enter your home. I thought he might be doing something to your husband, would do something to you.” She had a look of fear in her eyes.

“Yes, I was hoping for that, but instead we all got a three-hour interrogation at a police station. In the future, if you see the man enter our home again, would you text me instead of jumping to conclusions? And perhaps you should get some cookies of your own.” Diane reached into her purse, pulled out a business card. “Trust me. There are some delights even you might find enjoyable.” 

Dorcas took the business card, simple though it was, it only had a website, a name and a phone number upon it. “I can’t eat gluten.” 

“Trust me, take a look. It’s funny, just when you think MMF stands for Marshmallow Fondant, your eyes open and happiness follows. Goodnight Dorcas.” Diane didn’t wait for another word; she turned and strolled back to the house, giving the men some alone time. 

Her hand hovered above the doorknob, she glanced one last time over her shoulder, seeing that Dorcas was still standing in the doorway, contemplating the card and Diane. She gently pushed open the door, stepped inside, slipped off her heels and leaned against the door as it clicked closed behind her. 

She heard the faint sounds of grunting, of panting and her hand slowly extended to the floor, her fingers opened as though they were exhausted from holding the handbag, one by one they released the black handle and the coach bag clunked on the floor beside her. A hand shakily rose to her throat, and she moved as though exploring the home for the first time. She was aware of all senses, the way her toes glided over the hardwood floorboards, the prickly tickles of carpet as they swept under her feet and both hands gripped the wood railing of the stairwell. 

Her tongue glided over her lips, as she fantasized about where they would drift soon. Diane unzipped her skirt and gingerly stepped out of it as she continued up the stairs, her eyes fluttered as she continued, she stood on the landing, breathing heavy, thinking about what was happening in the room at the end of the hallway. Her hands fidgeted with the silk blouse she wore, she reached in and was glad she’d not worn a bra. 

She heard the mumblings coming from the room, and as she turned the corner, she stood in the doorway and watched as Jeremy stood in the middle of the room. Behind him was the Brazilian, one arm around Jeremy’s chest, the other sliding down her husband’s left leg. Adan’s tongue was licking the underside of Jeremy’s ear, and his body shivered at the tease. 

As Adan moved in for the attack on her husband, Diane found herself leaning against the doorjamb, her fingers slipping down, the tip of one finger darting between her lips, as she sucked her thumb into her mouth, to stop her moans from interrupting the two men in front of her. She panted, she shivered, and she walked on shaky legs to stand behind Adan. Her hand moved of its own accord, to connect with his hand, and she felt Jeremy tremble beneath her nails and Adan’s thumb. They stood there, just hands doing all the work. They turned to one another, and tongues explored, fingers tested and teased. Soon, Adan’s hands were pulling her stockings down and kneeling before her, and she watched as Jeremy slid beneath Adan’s legs. Mouths were everywhere, licking, sucking, tasting and teasing. Diane had no place to put her hands but on Adan’s head. Her nails slid through his hair, gripping in a quick turn. His tongue darted, his teeth nibbled, and he licked like she was a font of elixir. Jeremy’s tongue traveled along the underside of Adan. When he’d hit a nerve, Diane could feel the tingle too.

Three hours later, Jeremy stood behind Diane; they both watched as Adan got in the cab and drove away. 


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