Everybody has a secret.  You know, something you really don't want to read
as a headline in the local paper or even overhear people talking about.  An
idea or event that you don't want spread around to your nearest and
dearest.

   My best friend, Layla, knows mine.  Ignore the name, her mom was
listening to Eric Clapton when "it" happened.  She has the same secret.  We
don't talk about it.  No, it's not what you think, either.

   We were on a jaunt to New York in the early 1990s.We were in our late
twenties and looking for something to do for the evening.  Ok: I was 30. 
We were having dinner at a small, elegant Italian restaurant on 6th.  The
elderly maitre'd became immediately enchanted with two single ladies and
brought us champagne on the house.

   This sort of thing happens all the time with Layla around.  She's small,
dark and absolutely gorgeous.  I'm merely pretty, fairer and stacked.  We
generally don't have a problem getting noticed.  Good thing we both like
attention.

   The maiter'd, after the usual compliments inquired in we would like to
spend the evening at THE CLUB.  He knew the manager, could get us in for no
cover.  How fabulous!  He tucked us into a cab.

   We arrived , were escorted past the line and behind the velvet rope.  I
was impressed, and glad not to have to pay the $100 entrance fee.  We were
led through the dark restaurant into the disco.  The music was thunderously
loud .  The lights were blinding and flashing from the ceiling, floor and
reflected from the hanging panels of gold mirrors.  There were no chairs,
just banquets with tables.  Impossible to sit alone.

   I waylaid a waiter for two glasses of champagne.  Layla immediately
attracted the attention of a middle-aged Hispanic gentleman, who told us in
a shriek that he was a South American pharmaceutical exporter.  Right.  He
was accompanied by two under age lemon tarts in not very much.  He kept our
glasses full with his Dom Perigon and tried to teach Layla the Lambada.

   Did I mention friends can be competitive?  I wasn't going to just sit
there.  As I scanned the crowd blocking the dance floor, a guy slid between
the couples.  He was young, carelessly elegant with a shock of dark hair
hanging over his eyes.  When he shoved it back, I saw he was adorable,
dark-eyed and twenty something.

   I didn't hesitate.  I walked over, got a smile in response and led him
onto the dance floor.  During the next several numbers, he said his name
was Todd, he lived in Short Hills and he partied in the City every chance
he could get.  I also noticed he moved with fluid and sensual grace on the
on the dance floor and liked to slow dance with his hands on my ass.  I
like how hot he felt and I was sorry I was splitting a hotel room with
Layla.

   My friend noticed my darling conquest she joined us on the dance floor.
We even switched off slow dances.  The exporter apparently didn't hold a
grudge.:he still kept filling our glasses.  At the table, Layla and I
bracketed him.

   At 2:30, I was definitely hot but frustrated.  No place to go and I
couldn't very well as my best friend to get out.  I sighed, lifted Todd's
head where he had been licking my throat.

   "It's late.  We should probably split."

   Layla emerged from the crowd and definitely agreed.  Todd volunteered to
give us a six block ride in his jeep.  More frustration.  We arrived and I
leaned in Todd's window to give him a long, tongue filled kiss.  When I
stepped back, Layla leaned in and also kissed him-the same way.

   "Why don't you come in and say goodnight?" She suggested, looking
sideways at me.

   I had no idea what was going through her mind.  Layla and I were hetro
and while we talked about our love life in gory detail, Layla was not a
poacher.  I was slightly annoyed .  I was not going to relocate at this
time of night.  Todd practically vaulted out of his car and levitated to
our room.

   When the door shut, Layla pushed me toward Todd who kissed me and began
stroking my back and rear, slowly inching up my skirt.  Layla moved around
in back and began pulling Todd's shirt out of his pants, running her hands
over his nicely muscled back.  Was I the only one that didn't know what was
going on?

   My clothes came off first, followed by Layla's dress.  We then both
began to undress Todd.  I especially liked licking his smooth chest while I
unbuttoned his shirt.  Layla was on her knees working at his zipper and
belt buckle.  Todd pulled her up and began touching her breasts.  I pushed
them both on the bed.

   We ended up on either side of him, one of us stroking his balls, the
other his cock.  Todd woke up enough to realize that one of his fantasies
wasn't happening.

   "Aren't you two..uh...going to do anything?"

   I shook my head..  "Nope .  I like guys." I leaned a little closer. 
Some thing was a little different about his face in the clear bedroom lamp
light."How old are you, anyway?"

   "Seventeen.  Almost.  Hey, it's no problem" Todd protested, obviously
thinking we were going to stop in mid stroke.

   Layla straddled him and eased herself down.  She began to move slowly.

   "She's not my type.  Let's see if what Carol and I have heard about
young guys is true.  Got enough energy for both of us?"

   I watched for a minute, getting more frustrated.  I got up on my knees
and swung one leg over Todd's head.  He grabbed my thighs and pulled me
down to his mouth.  When I felt his tongue, I grabbed the headboard.  I
could hear Layla behind me begin to make low noises as she approached
orgasm.

   We changed positions again.  This time I was on the bottom (the only way
I can come) while Todd thrust hard.  He reared back to suck my nipples.  I
couldn't see Layla at first and didn't care until the exquisite sensation
from my breasts stopped.  Todd's attention was fixed on my friend who had
spread her legs and was stroking herself in time to his thrusts.  I don't
remember in whom or how he eventually came.

   It was after sunrise that we poured an exhausted and obviously happy
teenager back in his jeep .He kept trying to give us his phone number,
begging us to call him when either or both of us were back in New York.  In
the elevator.  Layla and I began laughing helplessly.  I threw the number
in the trash and we collapsed on separate beds.  I fell asleep in 3
minutes.

   We didn't talk about it when we got up.  We've never talked about it. 
Sometimes we got the giggles when people remarked that Layla and Carol did
everything alike.

   So why am I spilling my guts ten years later?  I'm getting married next
week Layla is of course, my maid of honor.  And in the last month she's
begun to drop hint that as friends,we share everything.





   # 
