My Married Friend

I poured more drinks. Trick retrieved the bong from the living room. We drank and smoked while we cooked. I was lost by the time I served the stirfry. And, I no longer wanted food. I wanted something else.

Halfway through dinner, Trick stood up, unbuttoned his jeans, and stepped out of them. As opposed to our drive two days before, he was wearing underwear, red boxer briefs that betrayed everything they were supposed to conceal. I looked at him, and my mouth went dry.

Again, I felt both like predator and prey.

I was not the predator.

Trick sat back down. “That’s better,” he said as he resumed eating. When he was finished, he got the bong again, took a huge hit, walked toward me, and lowered his face to mine. I was not sure what was happening when he cupped his hand around the back of my neck, placed his lips to mine, opened his mouth, and exhaled all the smoke he had been holding into my mouth.

His lips were soft but firm. Initially taken aback, I recovered in time to breathe the smoke in. Trick’s lips did not leave mine. His tongue entered my mouth. I masked my surprise by letting my tongue meet his. We kissed, for the first time. When the kiss was over, I let the smoke escape my lungs.