A few years ago, I went out for what I thought would be another routine happy hour after work. There’s this bar in the warehouse district where many of us corporate guys go. I’m mostly in it for the seasonal raw oysters on special. Since my coworkers were busy hitting on tourists, I was eating and minding my own business at the end of the bar.

Out of nowhere, this guy starts yelling at a couple that had just walked in the door. The male half of the couple looked like he was somewhere in his early 50s — his face was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it at the time. He wore an expensive-looking linen suit, and on his arm was a leggy blonde in sunglasses. For the purposes of this story, we’ll call him “Mr. Linen” and her “Marilyn.” And per her Hollywood-inspired pseudonym, Marilyn had gorgeous vanilla-blonde hair styled in big, loose curls. She stood at least five-foot-seven in her strappy sandals — and the red dress she wore hugged every inch of her curvy figure to perfection.

Anyway, this is the gist of what I remember: The hothead who was clearly under the influence of something more than alcohol was pissed off that Mr. Linen had parked in what he thought of as his parking space. At first, Mr. Linen tried to calm him down, but to no avail. All of a sudden, the maniac shoved Mr. Linen into the wall by my chair and started to rail on him.

Now, as this is a classy place in an upscale area, it’s not like they hire muscle or bouncers. Also, most of the stiff suits were probably thinking it was free entertainment after a long day of wanting to beat up people in their office. I do a bit of mixed martial arts and boxing in my downtime, so it was nothing for me to stand up and knock the punk out, which is exactly what I did. I wasn’t looking to be a hero, though. I just wanted to eat my oysters in peace.

Mr. Linen got up, a little dazed, but he didn’t have a mark on him.

“You OK, man?” I ventured, extending my hand to help him up.

“Just fine.” He stood and shook my hand: “Thank you. I really, really owe you.”

I shook my head. “All good.”

The stunned bartender leaned over and looked at the subdued aggressor on the floor before saying, “Guess I should call the cops.”

“You can do that, but I’m not interested in pressing charges,” Mr. Linen responded. He turned back to me again and said, “Please, at least let me buy you a drink.”

Before I could say anything, Marilyn stepped over. “Baby, are you OK?” She caressed Mr. Linen’s face. He assured her he was fine, just a little rattled.

Now that I could finally get a good look at her, my jaw dropped a little: How did I go from actually knocking a guy out to standing before a real knockout in under 60 seconds?

“All thanks to this guy,” Mr. Linen said, clapping me on the back and startling me out of my musings.

Marilyn leaned closer to me. She put a hand on my shoulder and appreciatively gushed, “I’m so grateful you helped him like that!”

She was wearing the sweetest perfume. I could breathe in her scent all day.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. Glad I could stop the madness,” I said.

“Please, won’t you join us?” Marilyn lifted up her sunglasses to reveal her pleading baby blues.

I glanced quickly at Mr. Linen again and replied, “Well, if you insist.”

“I do,” he said while patting me on the shoulder. “You did me a solid. Our hotel is just around the corner. There’s a decent bar there, if you don’t mind. After my welcome here, I don’t feel like sticking around.”

“OK, then,” I said with an understanding nod. I downed my last oyster and tossed some bills on the bar to settle my tab.

At the other place, the gentleman in the linen suit revealed to me that he was a recently acquitted white-collar suspect who was still working in finance. Once he introduced himself by name, I connected the dots, and it made sense why he wanted to keep a low profile.

“I really wasn’t looking for a fight. I had no idea what he was talking about, since I took a public parking spot.” Mr. Linen shook his head. “Last thing I need is negative press right now.”

“I hear that, man.” I sipped my scotch and glanced around. I happen to be a lawyer, but luckily not a criminal or tax lawyer; I handle mostly divorces, so even if someone had recognized us, our conversation could not be construed as any kind of business consultation. Besides, Mr. Linen had a very public divorce years ago, and Marilyn was his sweet distraction, 20 years his junior and ten years mine.

Marilyn sat on the other side of Mr. Linen, nursing a dirty martini.

“So, Anthony, I think we’re both curious,” she winked at Mr. Linen and then looked at me. “What do you do when you’re not kicking ass or eating oysters?”

I chuckled. “MMA and long walks with my dog.”

Mr. Linen smirked and commented, “I bet you get a lot of babes with moves that like.”

“Not really, I work pretty crazy hours.”

“So,” Marilyn paused, “does that mean no girlfriend?”

“Nope, none whatsoever right now.”

Marilyn smiled and squeezed Mr. Linen’s arm before saying to me, “So then, do you think you’d like to come up to our room? I know my man here would love to watch me properly express my appreciation for your help.”

I just about choked on my scotch.

Mr. Linen smirked and assured me, “It’s a serious offer. No strings, no drama. Just this gorgeous woman’s lips up and down your dick, and you having her every which way.”

Marilyn licked her bottom lip and announced, “I’d love it so much if you pinned me down and fucked me and made him watch. Show him how winners fuck.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!

“I — wow.” I laughed and did a double take. “You’re not joking?”

“Nope,” Mr. Linen smiled. “It’s a thing with us. I like to watch her, and we both like to share.”

He caressed Marilyn’s back and gave her a kiss on the cheek as she nodded at me.

“It’s true.” Marilyn polished off the last of her martini. “So? Are you coming upstairs?”

It took about 60 seconds from that point for us to get into the elevator. And before the doors even closed, Mr. Linen was insistent that I kiss her.

“Just take a taste of those lips.”

The elevator had wraparound mirrored walls, so while we made out, I could see her in my arms and see how her man watched. I’ve had threesomes, but never a dedicated audience, and the idea was a surprising new turn-on.

When we got to the room, Marilyn wasted no time slipping off her dress and strapless bra. She giggled and danced for me as we moved toward the bed. Her natural tits were full and magnificent in the way they sloped down and flopped to either side of her body.

Marilyn playfully squeezed her breasts together, offering them to me. They were perfect and pillowy with pale pink nipples that I took my time teasing.

As I alternated between kisses to her breasts and lips, I felt the blood rush from my head to my raging erection.

Marilyn stroked my bulge through my trousers and said, “I can’t wait to be with such a manly man.” She tugged on my necktie. “Come on, get naked and let’s get on the bed.”

“That’s right, show him how much you appreciate him for helping me out, baby.” Mr. Linen fixed himself another drink and casually sat down in the chair by the television.

I eagerly complied by stripping down.

Marilyn, clearly liking the muscular physique she saw, practically pounced on me.

“Oh, you’re so nice and thick,” she whispered in my ear, touching my bicep before dropping her hand lower and slowly stroking my shaft. “I love feeling a thick cock stretch me out.”

I grinned. “Well, I’ll be happy to do that for you.”

Marilyn giggled and kissed her way down my torso, and then she took a breath and gobbled down my entire shaft in one fell swoop.

I gasped in surprise. This girl had me all the way down her throat and was sucking me like an industrial vacuum.

“Oh, my God!” I groaned. My knees buckled as pleasure consumed me.

“Yeah, that’s right, face-fuck her,” Mr. Linen said. “She loves to gag on a nice dick.”

Marilyn came up for air with a wicked grin and responded, “You’re damned right I do!”

The room felt like it was spinning. Marilyn sucked me all the way to the very brink; when she pulled away, a little bit of pre-come ran down her chin.

“Ready to fuck?” Mr. Linen asked.

I exhaled, trying to maintain myself so this could last and responded, “Hell, yeah.”

Marilyn slipped off her panties and got on all fours in the middle of the bed, glancing back at me like a cat in heat.

I wasted no time. I entered her from behind, and we started going at it hard and fast. Marilyn was a loud moaner, too, and Mr. Linen might’ve been a cheerleading coach the way he encouraged her to take my cock.

“That’s right, baby. Fuck him like the little slut you are!”

“Oh, yes!” Marilyn squealed, matching me thrust for thrust.

After a while, she decided she wanted to be on top but facing Mr. Linen, so he could watch the whole thing.

When she finally came, Marilyn cried out and flopped to the side. It was so hot knowing I was making her come buckets in front of her man.

She caught her breath for a second and then came right back to my dick.

“We aren’t done yet,” she announced.

“That’s right. Finish him off in your mouth!” Mr. Linen grinned. “Swallow this whole load!”

Owing to her velvet throat and the excitement of being watched, it wasn’t long before Marilyn had drained me of every last drop, rendering me more or less as knocked out as the dude back in the bar.

My coworkers all wondered where I’d ended up that night. I totally wanted to brag, but I just told them I hit the gym. I’ve never revealed any of this until now.

That same year, Marilyn became Mr. Linen’s third wife, and when it was time for their rather quickie divorce, she actually became a client of mine.

These days? I’m the only man in her life, but since we both still enjoy having a captive audience, Marilyn will occasionally invite a girlfriend to “punch things up” a notch.