what about Marla?

The last several weekends, my sweetie and I have gone dancing at a large nightclub here in Sydney. I was burned out on clubs for a while, given that was my livelihood until recently, but then I was starting to miss just getting out there and letting loose. James is a very good dancer, having once danced in a club himself, so he's always good to go.

Last Saturday we hit our usual place, which was packed to the rafters as is typical. We danced for about an hour until we were both hot and thirsty, then found a table and just people-watched for a while. So as not to lose our spot, we took turns going to the loo.

When I was in the ladies, which was jammed, I had to ask another girl to hand me a tissue from the counter because there were so many people using the mirror. While I was waiting, I heard another girl behind me declaim in an American accent, "you're American too! Where are you from?"

I turned and saw a very pretty dark brunette in her twenties smiling at me. As we struggled out of the loo together, I gave her the thirty-second rundown about having originally been from the Midwest but most recently lived in Las Vegas and came to Sydney with my Australian boyfriend.

"That was him dancing with you?" she asked.

I said it was. At about this point I noticed the girl was either a little drunk or high or both. Her eyes seemed unnaturally bright and a little unfocused, and she seemed a bit unsteady on her feet.

"You are such a hot couple," she said with a giggle. "And you have the most gorgeous skin." I was wearing a little sleeveless black dress, and she ran her hand up my forearm to my shoulder as she said that. We had about reached our table at this point, and I saw James watching the two of us with a curious grin.

"Who's your mate?" he said when we reached the table.

"I'm Marla," she said flirtatiously and did a little sort of coy pose. She looked like she was ready to sit down in my spot next to James, so I beat her to it. She then flopped down beside me and asked, after she was already seated, "can I sit with you?" My sweetie put his arm around me so that there was no question who belonged to whom and told her she was welcome.

Unprompted, Marla then proceeded to give us something of a rambling five-minute version of why she was in Sydney. She was in the process of divorcing her Australian husband and working for an American company with a division down here. She recently broke up with her boyfriend and came to the club with a girlfriend, who had already left with some guy. So she was there alone.

While she was telling this, she sucked down one stinger and ordered another. (Neither my sweetie nor I drink, I should perhaps mention at this juncture.) James asked her how many she had drunk already and she thought about five or six. After she slugged down the next one, she leaned over me and began stroking both my arms and chattering away about how much she loved my skin and wanted to touch me. She then asked if I wanted to dance with her, so I asked James if he would like to see me dancing with Marla. He often answers questions I ask with a grin and lifted eyebrows to signal "yes," and that's just what he did.

Marla and I got up to dance together. Needless to say, she was not a very good dancer, possibly due to the fact that she was now pretty bombed. She sort of flew all over the place at times and then leaned into me in between. I struggled a bit to keep her toward the side of the dance floor closest to James, so I could watch his reaction. He smiled the whole time.

As we made our way back to the table after the second dance, Marla leaned into me and said, "can I kiss you?" Before I could answer, she took hold of my chin and planted a boozy smooch straight on my lips. I guess I recoiled a bit because she said "I'm sorry" and drew me into a clumsy embrace. James was watching all this with a knowing grin.

When we reached the table, she dumped herself ungracefully right next to James; he scooted over with her in the little booth so I could sit on the other side of him. Marla had another stinger and proceeded to manhandle the both of us together while chattering away about how hot she thought the both of us were. James just sat there, saying very little and mostly watching me with a knowing smile.

At first, I must admit I was a tiny bit annoyed watching this girl touching my man, but then I started to get really turned on. She was sort of rubbing his abdomen and trying to move her hand down lower, but then he would take hold of her wrist, gently but firmly, and ease her hand back to the table. Each time she tried to do this, he would deflect her, and the fact that he could control her while focusing on me and pretending to be interested in her chatter was beginning to really excite me.

At about this point, James leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I know exactly what you're thinking, kitten. You want to fuck her."

Of course he was right. In light of our recent conversations about a ménage à trois after we're married, I've been scouting for candidates.

"What are you two whispering about?" Marla asked drunkenly.

"Something we're going to do after we're married," James answered.

"You mean you're not doing that already?" she asked incredulously.

"Something else," I answered.

"Sounds naughty," she said with a giggle.

She then asked permission to kiss both of us, and James consented if it was all right with me. I said of course. I was very turned on watching her try to kiss him, because she tried to be assertive, but he was forceful and controlling with her, which seemed to excite her in turn.

After Marla knocked back another stinger, which I think was probably her eleventh, James and I agreed we had to call it a night and offered to give her a ride home. She happily consented but had trouble walking so James had to let her lean on him as we left the club.

A few guys shot my sweetie a "lucky mate" look as they watched the three of us leaving together, with Marla hanging on one side of him and me on the other. The fact that these strangers were thinking the three of us were going somewhere to fuck really aroused me, even though it would not actually be happening that night.

Out in the street, Marla seemed to amp up the helpless act, so James said rather firmly, "behave yourself girl." That excited me all the more to see him controlling with her. She was bringing out the dominant creature in him, but he was stern with her in a way he is not with me. The idea that he could give her a good rough fuck while I watched was exciting me to no end.

James dumped her in the back seat, and I sat up front with him as he drove to her neighborhood. He already knew the way but not her exact street, so when we got close, she tried to find her house but was unsuccessful. James asked for her purse, found her driving permit, and then located her street on a map. We helped her inside -- she truly seemed to be having difficulty walking at this point -- so James just picked her up and carried her upstairs to her bedroom. I told him later that made me a little wet watching him do this.

She was wearing a very pretty dress, so I helped her out of that because she couldn't even reach around to unfasten the back. She seemed oblivious to the fact that I was stripping her down to her bra and panties in front of a man she only barely knew. I was really getting turned on by undressing her as James watched. He looked at me with a knowing grin as if he could read every thought scampering through my mind.

Marla just collapsed into bed and rolled over on her side. I copied her number off the telephone and said we'd call her the next day to see if she was all right. She then murmured something about wanting to see us again, to go out with us again.

"Do you want to do something together?" she asked drunkenly.

"That could be arranged," James replied noncommittally.

After we left the house and got into the car, I asked, "so, what about Marla?"

James admitted that watching her all over me aroused him. He wondered, however, what she would be like sober. He also wondered if she would try to be dominant because she seemed rather assertive, but it was hard to tell if that was really Marla or the alcohol.

I replied that was what made her so interesting to me, because I could imagine her trying to dominate James, but he would then turn it around and control her completely, which would be totally hot. As well, I would not allow her to dominate me, so she would have to submit if she wanted to share our bed.

"That would be very hot, watching you dominate her," James admitted, and just the thought of that excited me to no end.

The next afternoon, I called Marla to see how she was doing. She sounded like shit but was much the same personality, at once chattery and silly and irreverent. She said she wanted to have us over for dinner sometime soon, and I said that would be fun. We tentatively agreed on a date after Christmas.

So how does one broach the big question in a situation like this? Over coffee and desert ask, "Hey, Marla, ever think about a ménage à trois?"

James said with a smile, "Tell her to read your blog. That'll sure break the ice."