Act 2, Scene 8
Three is Company Too

That evening we were invited to Rick's place for pre-dinner drinks and munchies.
Rick had participated in the program once every year or so for several years.
“It ends up costing about as much as it pays” he said.
I thought it was a pretty damn good deal for him. He alternated between a a house in the country one year and a place in town the next. This year he’d opted for an apartment in town. He decided he’d have a few of his favorite students over for drinks, namely Heather and myself. Bec and Melanie were invited along as well. He’d completely charmed all the girls on the program, despite him being twice their age. I liked him too. He could tell some hilarious stories about growing up in Louisiana that rivaled my redneck tales of Georgia.
So, dressed as nicely as we could, we picked up a bottle of wine and headed over to his place. At the top of a quaint, but almost frighteningly steep and narrow spiral staircase was his third-story apartment. It was furnished with sturdy antiques, a nice sized kitchen, bedroom and a living room with a wonderful view of the valley out the large window.
Sitting around listening to Otis Redding on the stereo, sampling the local wines, eating crackers with cheese and olive paste, Rick telling tall tales, three beautiful women telling torrid tales of their own youth...
I just stretched out on his couch with eyes shut and soaked it all in. It was like the old Lowenbrau commercial, “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

There was a local restaurant that we passed on the way home from class every night that had the most fantastic smells emanating from it, so we headed there for dinner. I looked over the menu and couldn’t find a translation for the word “scallopini” in the dictionary. Looking over the list of ways it’s prepared, such as lemon and butter sauce, I assumed it meant scallops. But when it arrived at the table it was obviously veal. But I abandoned political correctness for an evening and gobbled it up. Heather selected the rabbit, which turned out to be the top dish in the delicious spectrum for the night. More wine and it was time for gelato.

"Tell me again why we live in Georgia?"
"'Cause we're stupid."
Frederick Noble and Shawn Littleton

Melanie and Heather had been friends for years. Heather had always wanted to seduce Mel, she told me before the evening began.
“So do it,” I said.
“She always tells me she’s not interested.”
“Well, let’s pour a bunch of wine in her and see what happens.”
So we sat at the outdoor cafe and sucked down several roudns of wine and cappuccino with the girls. Bec had the hots for one of the local vespa vermin, a cute guy with long black hair and a little goatee. He joined us at the table for a while but I could tell he wasn’t really interested in Bec. We tried to arrange it so that they’d end up together anyway. When it looked like we were successful we grabbed Mel and slipped away, headed up the hill to the dorm.
My roommate wasn’t home, as usual, so Heather and Mel piled into his bed. I turned the lights out to set the mood (and avoid any prying eyes through my courtyard window) and climbed into my bed. Had there been room I’d have jumped into the bed with them but they were only cots barely big enough for one. Besides, I didn’t want to spoil Heather’s chances. Mel was Heather’s friend, and had a boyfriend back home. She might go for some fun with her best girlfriend but I doubted she’d be interested in adding a male in the mix.
Or maybe I’m just a wimp.
Regardless, I settled for some audible voyeurism, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I could hear Heather’s kisses, and Mel’s moans, a mix of protest and pleasure. She groaned a few no’s but it didn’t sound like she really minded that much. Eventually I could see the outlines of two friends having a building session of drunken sex.

Then I heard Bec’s voice out in the hall, lost and confused in search of us.
I realized we hadn’t even told her where the dorm was, much less told her what room we were in, so I have no clue how she found us and I felt guilty about it. I hopped up and guided her to the room. She was positively smashed, and somewhat upset that the vespa vermin had fled the minute we’d left them alone.
She apologized for stumbling in, we apologized for abandoning her. We shoved the two bunks together and all piled in. Bec joked nervously that it looked like we were trying to start an orgy. Nobody really responded but Bec's nervous jokes made it clear she wasn’t interested. It didn’t look like there was hope for Heather and Mel’s interrupted session, but moments later Bec dozed off and started snoring loudly.
Or maybe they didn’t care if Bec heard their activity, I don’t know, but it was only a few minutes before they were back at it. Mel’s moans were punctuated by Bec’s snores, leading to giggles by everyone. It was surreal evening.

Melanie and Bec got up hideously early the next morning to catch their train. They said their goodbyes in zombie mode and I closed the door behind them.
Heather, hungover, disheveled, and smelling of sex told me she felt terribly guilty for what she’d done.
“Why??” I asked.
“Because I use my friends for sex and they get hurt.”
“Do you think Mel will still be your friend?”
“Yes, always.”
“And do you think this changes anything between you two?”
“No.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Later Heather thanked me.
“For what?” I asked.
“Giving me Melanie.”
“You did it. I just helped the process along.” I said, and I meant it. I was glad she’d had the chance.

But then there was the nagging “We met some local boys” comment she’d dropped on me in the middle of the night a couple of nights back. Heck, you might have forgotten about it, I almost had myself. Until Heather reminded me of her upcoming date later in the day.