A triple shot of pleasure starts with dirty martinis and ends with a twist.

When my friend Morgan asked me to join her on her date, I balked. “Why would you want me to come?” I asked, confused. “I’ll be that third wheel you hear about in country-western songs.”

“I don’t know how I feel about Mike,” she confessed. “If you’re there, it would be less of a date and more of an … ”

“Awkward gathering of people?”

“Something along those lines. And who knows. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

Morgan’s one of my closest friends, so I agreed. Against my better judgment. Against everything that I know to be true about people. Because what would I have spent my time doing instead? I’d been single for long enough that a night out, even as a human buffer, sounded more exciting than a night in.

I entertained myself by dressing the part of a chaperon. I selected a black dress with a white collar and white cuffs, and I wore prim, high-heeled mules. I didn’t want to outshine Morgan, but I thought that if I was supposed to be there as her escape hatch, I could at least look sophisticatedly slinky.

The bar was one of those high-end places, very much a couple’s date spot. Lots of chrome and cleverly placed halogen lights. I was pleased with my chosen outfit, but I felt uncomfortable right from the start. I’m not sure what I thought would happen. At the bar, I wound up sitting on Morgan’s right while she and Mike hit it off. The three of us were in a line, and Morgan had her back to me the entire time. I began to play with the cobalt plastic sword that had held my three olives in my dirty martini.

Morgan seemed to completely forget I was even there. That’s why I started talking to the man on my right. He was solo, nursing a drink, and he seemed surprised when I opened the conversation.

“So are you here with two other people?”

“No,” he said, obviously baffled by the query. “Should I be?”

“Oh, I am,” I said, and I tried to act proud of the fact. “But they’re ignoring me.”

I said this as if this was the best thing ever.

“Is this a kinky new trend?” he asked me.

He seemed delighted that I’d begun talking to him.

“I hope not,” I said seriously, “Or I’ll have lost my faith in kink.”

“Don’t do that.” His brown eyes glowed, and he moved a little closer to me.

I started to feel less despondent about the evening. He was attractive and attentive, with dark curls and a wicked smile. I wasn’t looking for anything more.

“What about more than two?” he asked, getting into my game.

“Is it better to come with a whole group of people who ignore you?”

“I haven’t tried that yet,” I said. “How’s coming on your own working for you?”

“I’d rather come with someone else,” he said, and I laughed into my drink.

All was definitely not lost tonight. At this point, Morgan turned to me and pecked me on the cheek.

“Thanks for everything, Erica,” she said, putting money down on the bar to pay for my drink. She looked positively guilty in a way her ten-spot was not going to cover. “Mike and I are going to get a quick bite.”

“A quick bite,” I heard the man next to me whisper under his breath. “Sounds good to me.”

I said good-bye to Morgan and her date, feeling elated. Now, I didn’t care that I’d been the third wheel. I didn’t care that Morgan was ditching me. The man had his hand on my thigh, high enough to send shivers through me. I pretended to be very interested in my plastic sword. I didn’t stop him when he leaned in even closer. He took that for what it was: an invitation. Just to make myself completely clear, I tossed my hair over my left shoulder, exposing the line of my neck.

Quickly, he leaned down and nipped my bare skin. A delicious warmth spread through me. He was upright in a flash, sipping from his whiskey, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just given me a love bite in the center of a crowded bar.

“Do you want another drink?”

I shook my head.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

I nodded.

And then I realized I didn’t even know his name. I also realized I didn’t care. This wasn’t about names. This was about the heat I felt when he held my hand to lead me through the throng of hipsters to the door. This was about the way he put an arm around my shoulders, sending a flare of desire throughout my entire body. How long had it been since I’d last felt an instant connection? Too long, definitely, if I couldn’t even remember.

We shared a cab to his place, and along the way I got the details that usually come before you know you’re going to fuck someone. In between the hottest taxi makeout session of all time, I learned he was a banker, worked in a building near the one where I worked, and he had been on his own because a friend had stood him up.

It looked as if tonight was our lucky night.

At a pause in the kissing, he said, “My name’s James, by the way,” and the taxi driver — obviously listening in — laughed.

We had clearly seemed like people who knew each other based on our actions. When I put my hand on his crotch, I could feel how hard his dick was. He sighed and closed his eyes for a second. We were in tune. I ran my palm up and down his shaft through his slacks. He bit down on a groan. We reached his building before I could bend down to blow him, but not before I discovered that he had a sizable dick in his pants. The whole evening was taking on a fairy-tale quality. The sensation grew stronger when we entered the elevator in his building. There were mirrors on three of the walls. James had me in his arms right after hitting the button for his floor. I’ve always felt that kissing is a stellar way to get a feel for someone’s sexual prowess. Good kissing can equal incredibly good sex. Bad kissing doesn’t offer much promise.

James was definitely a good kisser. Better than good, because he kept his hands in motion, stroking me through my dress, cradling me and pulling me close. I was breathless when we parted, and a little dazed, quite honestly, when he led me from the elevator and down the carpeted hall to his apartment.

Since this wasn’t a date, we didn’t have to engage in any stupid small talk. I didn’t need a friend along to guide me forward or act as an escape hatch. James and I knew precisely what we were going to do. The only question really was where. We made it into his pad, and I had the time to kick off my shoes before he lifted me in his arms and carried me to his living room. He set me down on a large, white sofa, and then he stood and grabbed a box of matches from a basket on his table.

In seconds, he had lit two candles on the mantel. The room was bathed in the flickering light. His living room was decorated in a classy, masculine way. There wasn’t much to get in the way of the view of the city outside his windows. On a different kind of date, I would have talked to him about the magazines on his coffee table. The row of antique toy cars on a shelf. Tonight, I didn’t have to. This was about fucking. And oh, did that ever turn me on.

I stared at him as he took off his jacket and tossed it over the arm of the sofa. We were both smiling at each other. This felt natural and easy in a way I hadn’t experienced lately. All I wanted was to make love to this man, but I did appreciate his soft touch. He wasn’t in a rush, and that made me look forward to our ultimate connection even more. There was an old-fashioned stereo along one wall, and he put on an album — surprising me by choosing something I would have selected myself. I could feel all the energy rocketing through me. The kisses we’d shared in the taxi and the elevator had amped me up. I was almost to the point of touching myself when he returned to the sofa and started to undo the buttons on my dress.

I was practically humming with happiness. When I’d dressed for the evening, my only goal was to put on something semi-attractive to play the role of chaperon for Morgan. The primness of the dress made what we were doing now seem even more spectacularly sexy to me. James had the buttons open in no time. He spread the black fabric to reveal my simple bra-and-panty set. I hadn’t expected anyone else to see, so I’d selected the first items I’d found in my drawer. They were no-frills nude, but James seemed to like them. He let his fingertips trace over the cups of my bra, then wandered his hand along my belly to my panties.

Here he found what he was looking for.

“You’re so wet,” he said.

“I’ve been wet since you bit me,” I confessed.

“You liked that?”

“Loved that.”

He winked at me and brought his mouth to the inside of my thigh and nipped me again. I squealed and twisted my fingers in his curly hair. He bit me again, a little harder, and I could feel the wetness in my pussy start to spread.

“What else do you like?” he asked me. His eyes were glittery in the candlelight. I felt open in a way that thrilled me. We had nothing to prove. It was clear to the both of us that what we shared was a carnal connection. So with that freedom came my ability to tell him exactly what I desired.

“I like sixty-nining,” I said.

“I like that, too,” James told me, and he undid my bra deftly and sat back on his heels, watching as I kicked off my panties.

I made a motion toward him. He was way behind as far as the undressing thing was concerned. James stripped for me without any awkwardness. He looked proud of his body as he took off his shirt, pants and boxers. Then he moved me so that he was underneath me on the large sofa and I was astride him. His cock was hard and ready. I wrapped my fist around the shaft and brought my lips to the tip. He moaned, which let me know I was doing something right. I licked again, and he sighed. But he didn’t let me do all the work. He spread my pussy lips and began to lick my clit while I devoured his dick.

Only an hour before — less than an hour, probably — we’d been sitting side by side at a bar. Two total strangers. If I hadn’t spoken to him, we might never have met. I’d have gone home to a lonely bed, and he would have done the same. Instead, I was getting to know his dick intimately. I started to work him a little faster, and James echoed the speed and friction with his lips around my clit. The sensation was delightful, and I had to force myself to focus on the cock at hand. Part of me simply wanted to melt against him and let him take me away. But that wouldn’t have been fair. The true fun in sixty-nining is trying to concentrate on two factions at once — giving and receiving pleasure.

Ultimately, I lost my battle because James was too talented with his tongue. He crested the tip over my clit, and I came. Hard. But I let him know how sublime he’d made me feel by sighing against his cock. That increased his pleasure, and in no time he had reached his peak. To my surprise, he pulled back before I could swallow his load. Instead, he painted my lips and face.

He splattered me good. Even my eyelashes felt the droplets of his semen. I was laughing at the mess of it all, and James started laughing, too.

“Shower?” he offered.

I wiped my face on my arm and nodded. He took me to his master bath and flipped on the hot water. I washed my face in his sink, and when I patted my face dry with one of his towels, I saw that he was staring at me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

I felt my cheeks go pink.

“I can’t wait to fuck you.”

I was pleased to see that his cock was firm again. He got behind me and held my hips. I felt his cockhead nudge my pussy lips and enter, and I sucked in my breath as he continued. He stared at our reflection in the mirror until the steam from the shower clouded the glass. I let one hand slide down my body as he worked me. My pussy was still spasming from my earlier release.

“I love how juicy you are,” James whispered.

His cock pounded into me, stroking all the perfect spots inside me. He brought me close to a second climax, but he didn’t let me reach the end.

Pulling out, he said, “Let’s continue this in the shower.”

I got into the large, glassed-in square with him. He took the shower head down, and I saw that it was the type to feature a massaging nozzle.

“Spread your legs,” he said. I liked the authoritative tone of his voice, and I obeyed him immediately.

“Hold your lips open,” he said next.

My fingers hurried to do what he said. James brought the nozzle down between my legs. I bit my lip. The pounding rhythm of the spray was intense. I could feel how turned on I was. My whole body seemed to be on the verge of coming. Every nerve ending sang out with pleasure.

“Now, you,” I said, and I took the massager from my new lover.

James looked at me with his eyebrows raised. I turned the massager onto a gentle setting and let the water tickle his balls. James closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. I ran the spray up and down his cock. He groaned. I continued to play with the speed and the rhythm until James couldn’t hold back any longer. He took the massager and hung it back in place. Then he had me face the wall and he started to fuck me from behind. The warmth of the shower and the strength of his cock took me higher and higher. I braced my palms on the tiled wall and felt the shower spray rain down on me.

When I was on the verge, I murmured, “I’m going to come.”

He grabbed up the nozzle again, and this time, he aimed the spray between us, so I could feel the water on my ass as his cock drove into me. I came louder than I had before, my cries echoing against the tiled walls. James followed a beat later, coming all over my back and then spraying me clean.

After that, we both dried ourselves off. I found myself almost giddy on endorphins. This is what I’d needed for months. I simply hadn’t realized that I’d been craving male companionship to such a desperate level. I felt at ease, relaxed, as if I’d just taken a yoga class or had a full-body massage.

We walked out of the bathroom through a second door, entering James’s bedroom. I shot him a glance. He cocked a brow. There was a bed. So far, we’d made love on the sofa and in the shower. Why not try a more traditional approach?

James seemed to sense what I was thinking. He lunged for me, and I fell into his embrace, giggling as he maneuvered us both onto the mattress. I wondered which position James would want to try. He answered that question quickly by lying on his back and pulling me astride him, cowgirl-style. “This way I get to look at your beautiful … ”

“Tits?” I asked.

“I was going to say eyes,” he said, “but now that you mention them.”

He cradled my breasts in his hands. I arched into his palms, and he pinched my nipples, making me squirm on his dick.

“So you like being bitten,” he said, “and you like being pinched. I’m starting to see a trend here.”

“And you like … ” I started.

“Everything,” he said. “With the right partner.”

I started to power myself up and down his cock using my thigh muscles. James looked transported. I squeezed him with my pussy each time I slid down his pole. He maintained constant contact with my breasts, rubbing my nipples with his thumbs, then pinching them again. When I whinnied with pleasure, he ran one hand down my belly to my pussy, and he started to very lightly pinch my clit. I nearly lost my mind then. I was coming in almost no time, coming so hard that I felt lightheaded.

James took charge, flipping us over so that he was on top, moving me so that my legs were hooked over his shoulders. He set the pace now, slamming his thick cock inside me, still remembering to tweak my nipples and pinch my clit in between strokes.

“I know what you like,” I managed to whisper.

“Everything,” he echoed his earlier statement.

“You like coming on women,” I said.

He got a glimmer in his eyes. I’d nailed him.

“Do it,” I said. “Give me a pearl necklace. Shoot all over me.”

James gave me a few more strokes, then he pulled out and used his fist to aim his cock at my throat. He decorated me with his come, and I was lit up at how pleased he looked. He even sat me up in the bed, showing me my reflection in the mirror over his dresser.

“You can rinse off again if you want,” he said.

I nodded and headed back into the bathroom. But when I got out of the shower, I found myself feeling insecure for the first time of the evening. Would James want me to leave? What was the appropriate way to behave after fucking someone you’d just met at a bar.

“Dirty martini, right?” he asked when I returned to the bedroom.

He had on his boxers and he’d brought my panties and a t-shirt to slip on. By the bedside table was a fresh drink made to perfection. But when I saw that his pole was hard once more, I decided that the drink could wait. Until later.

“So how did coming with another person work for you?” I asked as I rubbed my palm over his erection through his boxers.

“I think I liked it,” he said, pulling them down, “but let’s do that again just to be sure.”