5TH BI-MONTHLY PENTHOUSE EXTRAVAGANZA
by RILAYAWRITERabout 2 hours ago
•long read•intense intensityThe party didn't end at 4 AM so much as it dissolved, the way salt dissolves in warm water. Gradually, then all at once, until you couldn't tell where one thing stopped and another started. By 3:17, the woman from apartment 7 had retrieved her coat from wherever it had landed and was wearing it backward, which was a choice. Her husband was asleep on the living room cushions with a throw pillow over his face. Topanga had won seventeen consecutive hands of poker and was sitting at the card table alone, shuffling her marked deck with the focused calm of a card shark who had run out of sharks. The couple from 14 had emerged from the bedroom looking like they'd solved something important. Someone from the 11th floor was still attached to the silk ties at the bar, but loosely, in the way that suggested he'd figured out the escape knot twenty minutes ago and was just enjoying the situation.
Maya was behind the bar, stacking glasses, when she felt the tap on her shoulder. Aubrey was standing there with two glasses of water and an expression that didn't match the party. It was the expression Maya had seen on her face at dawn four days ago, when Riley had said "the three of us" and Aubrey's fingers had closed around Maya's hand with that certainty. But now it was different. Now it was closer to something Maya recognized from her own mirror: the face you make when you're about to say a thing you can't take back. "Can I talk to you?" Aubrey said. "Outside." Maya looked at the terrace. The space heaters were still running. The awning was holding. The city was doing its thing, glittering and indifferent. "Now?" "Now."
Maya put down the glass she was holding. Riley was across the room, helping the man from the 11th floor with his silk ties, which involved a lot of laughing and Riley saying "you have to twist it, not pull it" in a voice that suggested she was enjoying the teaching moment more than the student was enjoying the lesson. Maya followed Aubrey to the terrace. The air hit her arms first, then her legs, then the space between her collarbones where her shirt, what remained of it after a game of strip blackjack at 11 PM was hanging open. The space heaters blasted warm air from four directions, creating a pocket of heat that felt almost aggressive against the November cold. Aubrey handed her one of the water glasses. Maya took it. They stood at the railing, looking out at the city, and for a moment neither of them said anything, because the city was doing enough talking for both of them with sirens, horns, the low hum of a place that never shuts up.
"I need to tell you something," Aubrey said, "before we go to Connecticut." "Okay." "And I need to tell you here, not there, because if I tell you there and it goes wrong, then the cabin is ruined, and I like that cabin." "You like the cabin." "I like the cabin. I like the awning. I like the contractor. I need to tell you here so that if it goes wrong, I can drive home in my Range Rover and listen to sad music and be dramatic about it alone." Maya turned to face her. Aubrey was tall, taller than Maya by enough that she had to look up, and in the orange glow of the space heaters, her blonde hair looked almost copper. Her green eyes were doing the thing they did when she was thinking hard about something, Narrowing slightly, focusing on a point just past whatever she was looking at, as if the thing she wanted to say was standing behind Maya's left ear.
"I'm listening," Maya said. Aubrey drank half her water in one swallow. "I've wanted you for longer than I've wanted Riley." The sentence landed between them like a card slapped face-up on a table. Maya felt her stomach do something complicated. "How long?" Maya asked. "Since the first time we played strip blackjack. You were sitting across from me and you had that look, the one where you're pretending you don't care about the game but you're counting cards in your head and you lost your shirt and you just sat there. In your bra. Like it was nothing. Like being half-naked in front of someone you barely knew was just a Tuesday." "It was a Thursday."
"Maya." "I'm not deflecting. I'm calibrating. Keep going."
Aubrey set her glass on the railing. "I thought it was just attraction. You're attractive. That's not a confession, that's an observation. But then it kept happening. Every time we were in the same room, I'd find you first. Before Riley, before Topanga, before anyone. I'd walk in and scan for blonde hair and blue eyes and a height that makes me feel like I'm looking down at something I want to reach for."
Maya's mouth was dry. She drank her water. "And then Riley happened," Aubrey continued. "And Riley is like a fire you walk into on purpose. She's warm and she's bright and she makes every-thing feel like a good idea. And I wanted her too, and I thought maybe that meant the thing about you was just a phase. A blip. Something that would smooth out once I had something else to focus on." "But it didn't smooth out." "No. It got worse. Because now I had both of you in my head, and the two things weren't competing, they were stacking. Like you and Riley were two different answers to the same question, and the question was: what do you want? And the answer was: both. In different ways. But the thing that started it was you."
Maya put her glass down next to Aubrey's. Two glasses on a railing, side by side, catching the reflection of a city that didn't care about any of this. "Why are you telling me this now?" Maya asked. "Because in the morning we're getting in my car and driving to Connecticut, and I don't want to get there and have this sitting in my chest like a brick. I don't want to be in the cabin with you and Riley and be pretending I'm calm about it when I'm not calm about it. I've never been calm about it. I've been faking calm so hard I should get a paralegal certificate in emotional fraud." Maya laughed. She couldn't help it. Aubrey smiled, but the smile was thin, like she was holding it in place with effort.
"What exactly are you asking me?" Maya said. "I'm not asking you anything. I'm telling you that I want you in a way that is specific and detailed and has been living in my body for months, and I need you to know that before we go any further. Because if we get to that cabin and something happens between the three of us I don't want to be pretending it's new. It's not new. Not for me." Maya looked at her. Aubrey looked back. The space heaters hummed. Inside, someone dropped a glass and Riley said "that's fine, that's a tax" in a voice that carried through the open door. "Aubrey," Maya said. "Yeah." "Come here." Aubrey stepped closer. She was close enough now that Maya could feel the heat coming off her skin, not from the space heaters but from her, the particular warmth of a body that's been holding tension for hours and is starting to let it go. Maya reached up and put her hand on the side of Aubrey's neck, her fingers curving around the tendon, her thumb resting just below Aubrey's jaw.
Aubrey's pulse was fast. Maya could feel it against her thumb. "I've been counting cards since the first hand," Maya said. "You think I didn't know?" "You didn't say anything." "I didn't say anything because I wanted to see what you'd do with it. That's what I do. I watch. I wait. I see who leans in and who leans back. You've been leaning in for months, Aubrey. Every time we played, every time we were in the same room, every time Riley said something that pulled us all closer you leaned in. I saw it. I just didn't know what to do with it yet." "And now?" "Now I'm doing something with it." Maya pulled her down. It wasn't gentle. It was the kind of kiss that happens when two people have been standing on opposite sides of a river and one of them finally jumps in.
Aubrey's mouth opened against hers and Maya tasted water and tequila and something underneath that was just Aubrey, warm and certain and slightly desperate in a way that made Maya's whole body tighten. Aubrey's hands found Maya's waist, fingers sliding under the ruined shirt, palms flat against Maya's ribs, and Maya felt the contact like a current, like the moment when a circuit connects and everything that was potential becomes actual. Aubrey backed Maya into the railing. The metal was cold against Maya's lower back and Aubrey's hands were hot against her sides and the contrast made Maya gasp into Aubrey's mouth, which Aubrey took as an invitation, which it was. Aubrey's right hand slid up from Maya's ribs to her breast, still covered by the bra she'd won back during a late-night round of truth or strip, and Aubrey cupped it through the fabric with a pressure that was precise and deliberate, like she'd been thinking about this specific act for months and had gotten very clear on how she wanted to do it.
Maya broke the kiss. "You've been thinking about this." "I've been thinking about this." "Specifically this? The terrace? The railing?" "Specifically your body. The terrace is a bonus."
Maya reached behind herself and unhooked her bra. It was a front-clasp, which she'd worn specifically because she'd learned months ago that front-clasp bras were more efficient in party situations, and she pulled it off and dropped it on the railing next to the water glasses. Aubrey looked at her, not at her breasts, not yet, but at her face, and that was the thing that made Maya's breath catch, because Aubrey was looking at her the way you look at something you've been wanting and have finally been given permission to touch. "You can look," Maya said. "I'm looking." "Look lower."
Aubrey's eyes dropped. Maya's breasts were full and pale in the heater light, her nipples hard from the cold air that crept in around the warm pockets, and Aubrey made a sound, low, involuntary, the kind of sound that bypasses the throat and comes straight from somewhere deeper. She bent her head and took Maya's left nipple in her mouth and Maya's hand came up to the back of Aubrey's head, fingers threading through blonde hair, holding her there. Aubrey's tongue was slow. Not tentative but deliberate. She circled Maya's nipple with the flat of her tongue, then flicked the tip, then sucked gently, and each variation sent a separate line of heat straight down through Maya's stomach to between her legs. Maya's other hand was still gripping the railing, the metal warming under her palm, and she could feel the vibration of the building through it, or maybe that was her own pulse.
"You're good at that," Maya said, and her voice came out lower than she expected. "I've been practicing in my head." "Practicing doesn't count." "Then let me keep going." Aubrey switched to Maya's right breast, her left hand coming up to cover the one her mouth had just left, rolling the wet nipple between her fingers. Maya let her head fall back. The city was above her and the city was below her and Aubrey's mouth was on her and the space heaters were doing their job and somewhere inside the penthouse Riley was probably finished with the silk ties and wondering where they'd gone. Maya pulled Aubrey back up by the hair and kissed her again. Harder this time. Aubrey's hands went to Maya's hips and then lower, sliding down to the hem of her skirt, what remained of the outfit she'd started the night in, a black skirt that had lost its zipper during a game of strip spades at 11:45 and Aubrey's fingers found the waistband and tugged.
"Wait," Maya said. Aubrey stopped. Her hands stayed where they were, fingers hooked in the waistband, and she pulled back enough to look at Maya's face. "What?" "Riley." "What about her?" "She should be here." Aubrey blinked. Then something moved across her face, not surprise exactly, but a rearrangement, like a puzzle piece clicking into a different position. "You want her out here?" "I want her out here. This is a three-person thing. That was the whole point. That's what we agreed to. I'm not doing this on the terrace without her." Aubrey smiled. It was the first full smile Maya had seen from her all night, the kind that shows teeth and changes the shape of someone's whole face. "I'll get her." "No. I'll get her. You stay here. Take off your shirt."
Maya pulled her skirt back into place roughly, functionally, the way you fix something that's going to come off again in five minutes anyway and walked inside. The penthouse was a different landscape than it had been at midnight. The cushions were rearranged. The bar had survived. Topanga was asleep in a chair with her marked deck still in her hand, and Maya felt a pang of affection so sharp it almost distracted her from her mission. Almost. Riley was in the kitchen, refilling the ice tray, which was a very Riley thing to be doing at 3:30 in the morning after a building-wide sex party. She was wearing an apron over her underwear and nothing else, and her hair was doing something that could only be described as "weathered."
"Riley." Maya. You look flushed." "Aubrey's on the terrace." "Is she okay? She looked intense earlier. I thought she was just adjusting space heaters, but she was doing that thing with her jaw, the clenching thing, and I thought — " "She confessed to me." Riley put down the ice tray. "Confessed what?" "That she's wanted me for months. Since the first strip game. Before you."
Riley's expression didn't change for a full three seconds, and then it softened into something Maya could only describe as relief. "I know." "You know?" "Maya, I've been watching her watch you since the first night she came over. She looks at you the way I look at you. I've been waiting for her to say it." "And you're not — "I'm not jealous. I'm not threatened. I'm horny and I'm tired and I'm wearing an apron for no reason and your girlfriend is on our terrace waiting for you to bring me outside so the three of us can do the thing we've been pretending we weren't going to do since September. So can we go?"
Maya grabbed Riley's hand and pulled her toward the terrace. Aubrey was where Maya had left her, leaning against the railing, shirt off. Her body was long and lean in the heater light, her breasts full and high, her stomach taut, and Riley made a sound that was very similar to the sound Aubrey had made when Maya took off her bra. "Hi," Aubrey said. "Hi," Riley said. "Maya tells me you've been carrying a torch." "I wouldn't call it a torch." "What would you call it?" "A structural load." Riley laughed and walked to her and kissed her. It was different from the way Maya had kissed Aubrey, softer, warmer, more Riley. Where Maya had jumped into the river, Riley waded in, and Aubrey responded to the difference, her hands coming to Riley's waist with a tenderness that made Maya's chest ache.
Maya watched them for a moment. Riley's hand on Aubrey's jaw. Aubrey's thumb tracing Riley's hip bone. The way their bodies fit together, Riley shorter, Aubrey bending, the geometry of it finding itself. Then Maya walked over and pressed herself against Aubrey's back, her bare breasts flat against Aubrey's shoulder blades, her hands reaching around to rest on Aubrey's stomach.
"Three," Maya said into Aubrey's shoulder. "Three," Riley said. "Three," Aubrey said, and the word came out unsteady, like she'd been holding it in her throat for months and it didn't know how to land yet. Riley untied her apron. It dropped to the terrace floor. Underneath, she was in her thong and nothing else, her breasts bare and brown-nipples in the orange light, and she stepped out of the apron and pressed herself against Aubrey's front while Maya stayed pressed against Aubrey's back, and Aubrey was between them, sandwiched in warmth, and Maya could feel her shaking.
"You're shaking," Maya said. "I know." "Is it bad?" "It's the opposite of bad." Riley kissed Aubrey's throat. Maya kissed Aubrey's shoulder blade. Aubrey's head dropped back against Maya's forehead, and the three of them stood there for a moment, breathing together, the city below and the heaters around and the party behind them finally, finally quiet. Riley's hands slid down Aubrey's stomach to the button of her jeans. She paused. "Can I?" Riley asked. "You can do anything," Aubrey said. "You can do everything. Please." Riley undid the button. The zipper came down. Riley's hand slid inside, and Aubrey's breath caught, a sharp, specific intake that Maya felt through her entire body because she was pressed against Aubrey's back and the vibration of it traveled through bone. Riley's hand moved with a confidence that came from knowing exactly what she was doing, because Riley always knew exactly what she was doing, even when she pretended she didn't.
Aubrey's hips shifted. Riley's fingers found their target and Aubrey let out a sound that was closer to a sob than a moan, low and broken and grateful. "She's so wet," Riley said, looking at Maya over Aubrey's shoulder. "I can feel it," Maya said, because she could , the subtle rocking of Aubrey's hips, the way her body was moving in response to Riley's hand, the rhythm of pressing back against Maya's pelvis. Maya reached around and cupped Aubrey's breasts from behind, rolling her nipples between her fingers while Riley worked her hand inside Aubrey's jeans. Aubrey was making sounds now that weren't words, just open-mouthed breathing and small desperate noises that got higher with each stroke of Riley's fingers. "Don't stop," Aubrey said, and her voice was wrecked. "I'm not stopping," Riley said. "Maya, come here."
Maya moved around to the front. Aubrey's eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, her face flushed from the heat and the want and the two pairs of hands on her body. Maya kissed her, and Aubrey kissed back with a desperation that tasted like months of waiting, and Riley's hand kept moving, and Aubrey's body started to tense. "She's close," Riley said. "I can tell," Maya said against Aubrey's mouth. "I want — " Aubrey started, and then couldn't finish, because Riley curled her fingers and Aubrey's whole body locked up, her thighs clamping around Riley's hand, her back arching away from the railing, her mouth opening against Maya's in a sound that wasn't a kiss anymore, just an open channel for whatever was coming out of her.
She came standing up, held between them, Riley's fingers inside her and Maya's mouth on hers and Maya's hands on her breasts, and the orgasm hit her in waves that Maya could track through her body, first the stomach tightening, then the legs shaking, then the hands gripping the railing behind her so hard the knuckles went white, then the long exhale that sounded like something being released from a cage. Aubrey slumped forward. Riley caught her, easing her down onto the lounge chair, the one with the heated blankets, because Aubrey had planned for this even if she hadn't known she was planning for this. Maya sat on one side, Riley on the other, and Aubrey lay between them with her jeans still open and her chest still heaving and a look on her face that was the opposite of the one she'd had when she'd tapped Maya's shoulder twenty minutes ago.
"Connecticut," Aubrey said, after a long silence. "Connecticut," Maya said. "Connecticut," Riley said. "But first, water." "You already have water," Maya said, pointing to the glasses on the railing. "That water is warm. I want cold water. I just gave someone an orgasm on a terrace in November. I've earned cold water." Aubrey laughed. It was a real laugh, full and startled, the kind that comes out when your body doesn't know what else to do with everything it's feeling. Maya looked at her and thought: there it is. The thing I was waiting to see. Not the confession, not the kiss, not the orgasm. The laugh. Riley came back with three cold glasses of water and a throw blanket from the living room. She draped the blanket over all three of them, and they sat on the lounge chair in a row, shoulders touching, drinking water and watching the sky get lighter over the East River.
"Topanga won every hand," Riley said. "Of course she did," Maya said. "I think the couple from 14 is still in our bedroom." "They earned it." "The man from the 11th floor asked if he could buy the silk ties." "Did you sell them?" "I said they weren't for sale. I said they were my family heirlooms." Aubrey snorted into her water. Maya leaned her head against Aubrey's shoulder. It was a small thing, a quiet thing, the kind of gesture that would have been impossible three hours ago when everything was still unspoken and Aubrey was still clenching her jaw and pretending the space heaters were the only thing making her warm.
"Hey," Maya said. "Yeah," Aubrey said. "You should know something. "What?" "I counted cards too. Every game. Every time. I knew exactly what you had and I lost on purpose because I wanted you to take my shirt off." Aubrey turned to look at her. Riley turned to look at her. "Every time?" Aubrey said. "Every single time." "You threw every game?" "I threw every game."
Riley put her face in her hands. "We're going to need a bigger cabin."
Maya was behind the bar, stacking glasses, when she felt the tap on her shoulder. Aubrey was standing there with two glasses of water and an expression that didn't match the party. It was the expression Maya had seen on her face at dawn four days ago, when Riley had said "the three of us" and Aubrey's fingers had closed around Maya's hand with that certainty. But now it was different. Now it was closer to something Maya recognized from her own mirror: the face you make when you're about to say a thing you can't take back. "Can I talk to you?" Aubrey said. "Outside." Maya looked at the terrace. The space heaters were still running. The awning was holding. The city was doing its thing, glittering and indifferent. "Now?" "Now."
Maya put down the glass she was holding. Riley was across the room, helping the man from the 11th floor with his silk ties, which involved a lot of laughing and Riley saying "you have to twist it, not pull it" in a voice that suggested she was enjoying the teaching moment more than the student was enjoying the lesson. Maya followed Aubrey to the terrace. The air hit her arms first, then her legs, then the space between her collarbones where her shirt, what remained of it after a game of strip blackjack at 11 PM was hanging open. The space heaters blasted warm air from four directions, creating a pocket of heat that felt almost aggressive against the November cold. Aubrey handed her one of the water glasses. Maya took it. They stood at the railing, looking out at the city, and for a moment neither of them said anything, because the city was doing enough talking for both of them with sirens, horns, the low hum of a place that never shuts up.
"I need to tell you something," Aubrey said, "before we go to Connecticut." "Okay." "And I need to tell you here, not there, because if I tell you there and it goes wrong, then the cabin is ruined, and I like that cabin." "You like the cabin." "I like the cabin. I like the awning. I like the contractor. I need to tell you here so that if it goes wrong, I can drive home in my Range Rover and listen to sad music and be dramatic about it alone." Maya turned to face her. Aubrey was tall, taller than Maya by enough that she had to look up, and in the orange glow of the space heaters, her blonde hair looked almost copper. Her green eyes were doing the thing they did when she was thinking hard about something, Narrowing slightly, focusing on a point just past whatever she was looking at, as if the thing she wanted to say was standing behind Maya's left ear.
"I'm listening," Maya said. Aubrey drank half her water in one swallow. "I've wanted you for longer than I've wanted Riley." The sentence landed between them like a card slapped face-up on a table. Maya felt her stomach do something complicated. "How long?" Maya asked. "Since the first time we played strip blackjack. You were sitting across from me and you had that look, the one where you're pretending you don't care about the game but you're counting cards in your head and you lost your shirt and you just sat there. In your bra. Like it was nothing. Like being half-naked in front of someone you barely knew was just a Tuesday." "It was a Thursday."
"Maya." "I'm not deflecting. I'm calibrating. Keep going."
Aubrey set her glass on the railing. "I thought it was just attraction. You're attractive. That's not a confession, that's an observation. But then it kept happening. Every time we were in the same room, I'd find you first. Before Riley, before Topanga, before anyone. I'd walk in and scan for blonde hair and blue eyes and a height that makes me feel like I'm looking down at something I want to reach for."
Maya's mouth was dry. She drank her water. "And then Riley happened," Aubrey continued. "And Riley is like a fire you walk into on purpose. She's warm and she's bright and she makes every-thing feel like a good idea. And I wanted her too, and I thought maybe that meant the thing about you was just a phase. A blip. Something that would smooth out once I had something else to focus on." "But it didn't smooth out." "No. It got worse. Because now I had both of you in my head, and the two things weren't competing, they were stacking. Like you and Riley were two different answers to the same question, and the question was: what do you want? And the answer was: both. In different ways. But the thing that started it was you."
Maya put her glass down next to Aubrey's. Two glasses on a railing, side by side, catching the reflection of a city that didn't care about any of this. "Why are you telling me this now?" Maya asked. "Because in the morning we're getting in my car and driving to Connecticut, and I don't want to get there and have this sitting in my chest like a brick. I don't want to be in the cabin with you and Riley and be pretending I'm calm about it when I'm not calm about it. I've never been calm about it. I've been faking calm so hard I should get a paralegal certificate in emotional fraud." Maya laughed. She couldn't help it. Aubrey smiled, but the smile was thin, like she was holding it in place with effort.
"What exactly are you asking me?" Maya said. "I'm not asking you anything. I'm telling you that I want you in a way that is specific and detailed and has been living in my body for months, and I need you to know that before we go any further. Because if we get to that cabin and something happens between the three of us I don't want to be pretending it's new. It's not new. Not for me." Maya looked at her. Aubrey looked back. The space heaters hummed. Inside, someone dropped a glass and Riley said "that's fine, that's a tax" in a voice that carried through the open door. "Aubrey," Maya said. "Yeah." "Come here." Aubrey stepped closer. She was close enough now that Maya could feel the heat coming off her skin, not from the space heaters but from her, the particular warmth of a body that's been holding tension for hours and is starting to let it go. Maya reached up and put her hand on the side of Aubrey's neck, her fingers curving around the tendon, her thumb resting just below Aubrey's jaw.
Aubrey's pulse was fast. Maya could feel it against her thumb. "I've been counting cards since the first hand," Maya said. "You think I didn't know?" "You didn't say anything." "I didn't say anything because I wanted to see what you'd do with it. That's what I do. I watch. I wait. I see who leans in and who leans back. You've been leaning in for months, Aubrey. Every time we played, every time we were in the same room, every time Riley said something that pulled us all closer you leaned in. I saw it. I just didn't know what to do with it yet." "And now?" "Now I'm doing something with it." Maya pulled her down. It wasn't gentle. It was the kind of kiss that happens when two people have been standing on opposite sides of a river and one of them finally jumps in.
Aubrey's mouth opened against hers and Maya tasted water and tequila and something underneath that was just Aubrey, warm and certain and slightly desperate in a way that made Maya's whole body tighten. Aubrey's hands found Maya's waist, fingers sliding under the ruined shirt, palms flat against Maya's ribs, and Maya felt the contact like a current, like the moment when a circuit connects and everything that was potential becomes actual. Aubrey backed Maya into the railing. The metal was cold against Maya's lower back and Aubrey's hands were hot against her sides and the contrast made Maya gasp into Aubrey's mouth, which Aubrey took as an invitation, which it was. Aubrey's right hand slid up from Maya's ribs to her breast, still covered by the bra she'd won back during a late-night round of truth or strip, and Aubrey cupped it through the fabric with a pressure that was precise and deliberate, like she'd been thinking about this specific act for months and had gotten very clear on how she wanted to do it.
Maya broke the kiss. "You've been thinking about this." "I've been thinking about this." "Specifically this? The terrace? The railing?" "Specifically your body. The terrace is a bonus."
Maya reached behind herself and unhooked her bra. It was a front-clasp, which she'd worn specifically because she'd learned months ago that front-clasp bras were more efficient in party situations, and she pulled it off and dropped it on the railing next to the water glasses. Aubrey looked at her, not at her breasts, not yet, but at her face, and that was the thing that made Maya's breath catch, because Aubrey was looking at her the way you look at something you've been wanting and have finally been given permission to touch. "You can look," Maya said. "I'm looking." "Look lower."
Aubrey's eyes dropped. Maya's breasts were full and pale in the heater light, her nipples hard from the cold air that crept in around the warm pockets, and Aubrey made a sound, low, involuntary, the kind of sound that bypasses the throat and comes straight from somewhere deeper. She bent her head and took Maya's left nipple in her mouth and Maya's hand came up to the back of Aubrey's head, fingers threading through blonde hair, holding her there. Aubrey's tongue was slow. Not tentative but deliberate. She circled Maya's nipple with the flat of her tongue, then flicked the tip, then sucked gently, and each variation sent a separate line of heat straight down through Maya's stomach to between her legs. Maya's other hand was still gripping the railing, the metal warming under her palm, and she could feel the vibration of the building through it, or maybe that was her own pulse.
"You're good at that," Maya said, and her voice came out lower than she expected. "I've been practicing in my head." "Practicing doesn't count." "Then let me keep going." Aubrey switched to Maya's right breast, her left hand coming up to cover the one her mouth had just left, rolling the wet nipple between her fingers. Maya let her head fall back. The city was above her and the city was below her and Aubrey's mouth was on her and the space heaters were doing their job and somewhere inside the penthouse Riley was probably finished with the silk ties and wondering where they'd gone. Maya pulled Aubrey back up by the hair and kissed her again. Harder this time. Aubrey's hands went to Maya's hips and then lower, sliding down to the hem of her skirt, what remained of the outfit she'd started the night in, a black skirt that had lost its zipper during a game of strip spades at 11:45 and Aubrey's fingers found the waistband and tugged.
"Wait," Maya said. Aubrey stopped. Her hands stayed where they were, fingers hooked in the waistband, and she pulled back enough to look at Maya's face. "What?" "Riley." "What about her?" "She should be here." Aubrey blinked. Then something moved across her face, not surprise exactly, but a rearrangement, like a puzzle piece clicking into a different position. "You want her out here?" "I want her out here. This is a three-person thing. That was the whole point. That's what we agreed to. I'm not doing this on the terrace without her." Aubrey smiled. It was the first full smile Maya had seen from her all night, the kind that shows teeth and changes the shape of someone's whole face. "I'll get her." "No. I'll get her. You stay here. Take off your shirt."
Maya pulled her skirt back into place roughly, functionally, the way you fix something that's going to come off again in five minutes anyway and walked inside. The penthouse was a different landscape than it had been at midnight. The cushions were rearranged. The bar had survived. Topanga was asleep in a chair with her marked deck still in her hand, and Maya felt a pang of affection so sharp it almost distracted her from her mission. Almost. Riley was in the kitchen, refilling the ice tray, which was a very Riley thing to be doing at 3:30 in the morning after a building-wide sex party. She was wearing an apron over her underwear and nothing else, and her hair was doing something that could only be described as "weathered."
"Riley." Maya. You look flushed." "Aubrey's on the terrace." "Is she okay? She looked intense earlier. I thought she was just adjusting space heaters, but she was doing that thing with her jaw, the clenching thing, and I thought — " "She confessed to me." Riley put down the ice tray. "Confessed what?" "That she's wanted me for months. Since the first strip game. Before you."
Riley's expression didn't change for a full three seconds, and then it softened into something Maya could only describe as relief. "I know." "You know?" "Maya, I've been watching her watch you since the first night she came over. She looks at you the way I look at you. I've been waiting for her to say it." "And you're not — "I'm not jealous. I'm not threatened. I'm horny and I'm tired and I'm wearing an apron for no reason and your girlfriend is on our terrace waiting for you to bring me outside so the three of us can do the thing we've been pretending we weren't going to do since September. So can we go?"
Maya grabbed Riley's hand and pulled her toward the terrace. Aubrey was where Maya had left her, leaning against the railing, shirt off. Her body was long and lean in the heater light, her breasts full and high, her stomach taut, and Riley made a sound that was very similar to the sound Aubrey had made when Maya took off her bra. "Hi," Aubrey said. "Hi," Riley said. "Maya tells me you've been carrying a torch." "I wouldn't call it a torch." "What would you call it?" "A structural load." Riley laughed and walked to her and kissed her. It was different from the way Maya had kissed Aubrey, softer, warmer, more Riley. Where Maya had jumped into the river, Riley waded in, and Aubrey responded to the difference, her hands coming to Riley's waist with a tenderness that made Maya's chest ache.
Maya watched them for a moment. Riley's hand on Aubrey's jaw. Aubrey's thumb tracing Riley's hip bone. The way their bodies fit together, Riley shorter, Aubrey bending, the geometry of it finding itself. Then Maya walked over and pressed herself against Aubrey's back, her bare breasts flat against Aubrey's shoulder blades, her hands reaching around to rest on Aubrey's stomach.
"Three," Maya said into Aubrey's shoulder. "Three," Riley said. "Three," Aubrey said, and the word came out unsteady, like she'd been holding it in her throat for months and it didn't know how to land yet. Riley untied her apron. It dropped to the terrace floor. Underneath, she was in her thong and nothing else, her breasts bare and brown-nipples in the orange light, and she stepped out of the apron and pressed herself against Aubrey's front while Maya stayed pressed against Aubrey's back, and Aubrey was between them, sandwiched in warmth, and Maya could feel her shaking.
"You're shaking," Maya said. "I know." "Is it bad?" "It's the opposite of bad." Riley kissed Aubrey's throat. Maya kissed Aubrey's shoulder blade. Aubrey's head dropped back against Maya's forehead, and the three of them stood there for a moment, breathing together, the city below and the heaters around and the party behind them finally, finally quiet. Riley's hands slid down Aubrey's stomach to the button of her jeans. She paused. "Can I?" Riley asked. "You can do anything," Aubrey said. "You can do everything. Please." Riley undid the button. The zipper came down. Riley's hand slid inside, and Aubrey's breath caught, a sharp, specific intake that Maya felt through her entire body because she was pressed against Aubrey's back and the vibration of it traveled through bone. Riley's hand moved with a confidence that came from knowing exactly what she was doing, because Riley always knew exactly what she was doing, even when she pretended she didn't.
Aubrey's hips shifted. Riley's fingers found their target and Aubrey let out a sound that was closer to a sob than a moan, low and broken and grateful. "She's so wet," Riley said, looking at Maya over Aubrey's shoulder. "I can feel it," Maya said, because she could , the subtle rocking of Aubrey's hips, the way her body was moving in response to Riley's hand, the rhythm of pressing back against Maya's pelvis. Maya reached around and cupped Aubrey's breasts from behind, rolling her nipples between her fingers while Riley worked her hand inside Aubrey's jeans. Aubrey was making sounds now that weren't words, just open-mouthed breathing and small desperate noises that got higher with each stroke of Riley's fingers. "Don't stop," Aubrey said, and her voice was wrecked. "I'm not stopping," Riley said. "Maya, come here."
Maya moved around to the front. Aubrey's eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, her face flushed from the heat and the want and the two pairs of hands on her body. Maya kissed her, and Aubrey kissed back with a desperation that tasted like months of waiting, and Riley's hand kept moving, and Aubrey's body started to tense. "She's close," Riley said. "I can tell," Maya said against Aubrey's mouth. "I want — " Aubrey started, and then couldn't finish, because Riley curled her fingers and Aubrey's whole body locked up, her thighs clamping around Riley's hand, her back arching away from the railing, her mouth opening against Maya's in a sound that wasn't a kiss anymore, just an open channel for whatever was coming out of her.
She came standing up, held between them, Riley's fingers inside her and Maya's mouth on hers and Maya's hands on her breasts, and the orgasm hit her in waves that Maya could track through her body, first the stomach tightening, then the legs shaking, then the hands gripping the railing behind her so hard the knuckles went white, then the long exhale that sounded like something being released from a cage. Aubrey slumped forward. Riley caught her, easing her down onto the lounge chair, the one with the heated blankets, because Aubrey had planned for this even if she hadn't known she was planning for this. Maya sat on one side, Riley on the other, and Aubrey lay between them with her jeans still open and her chest still heaving and a look on her face that was the opposite of the one she'd had when she'd tapped Maya's shoulder twenty minutes ago.
"Connecticut," Aubrey said, after a long silence. "Connecticut," Maya said. "Connecticut," Riley said. "But first, water." "You already have water," Maya said, pointing to the glasses on the railing. "That water is warm. I want cold water. I just gave someone an orgasm on a terrace in November. I've earned cold water." Aubrey laughed. It was a real laugh, full and startled, the kind that comes out when your body doesn't know what else to do with everything it's feeling. Maya looked at her and thought: there it is. The thing I was waiting to see. Not the confession, not the kiss, not the orgasm. The laugh. Riley came back with three cold glasses of water and a throw blanket from the living room. She draped the blanket over all three of them, and they sat on the lounge chair in a row, shoulders touching, drinking water and watching the sky get lighter over the East River.
"Topanga won every hand," Riley said. "Of course she did," Maya said. "I think the couple from 14 is still in our bedroom." "They earned it." "The man from the 11th floor asked if he could buy the silk ties." "Did you sell them?" "I said they weren't for sale. I said they were my family heirlooms." Aubrey snorted into her water. Maya leaned her head against Aubrey's shoulder. It was a small thing, a quiet thing, the kind of gesture that would have been impossible three hours ago when everything was still unspoken and Aubrey was still clenching her jaw and pretending the space heaters were the only thing making her warm.
"Hey," Maya said. "Yeah," Aubrey said. "You should know something. "What?" "I counted cards too. Every game. Every time. I knew exactly what you had and I lost on purpose because I wanted you to take my shirt off." Aubrey turned to look at her. Riley turned to look at her. "Every time?" Aubrey said. "Every single time." "You threw every game?" "I threw every game."
Riley put her face in her hands. "We're going to need a bigger cabin."