The Saga of Dana
...excerpt from a long letter never quite finished, but it feels appropriate right now...
Marley was dead to begin with...
Hurm, wrong story. I suppose this is really the story of three people: Dana, Becky (my ex-wife) and myself. I shall skip over some details for sanity, but this is how it began.
I met Dana in high school. She was a freshman, I was a junior. It was spring, but this young man's heart had not turned to thoughts of fancy. In October I had split from Becky. We'd dated for a hair over three years and things had come to a natural, mutual, if slightly acrimonious end. By the spring, while I was no longer upset, I was too preoccupied with other matters to consider dating. I was slogging my way through a production of Hello Dolly being done by the school. I have less than no interest in musicals, and was basically coerced into doing it by the drama teacher with promises of Prospero next year. I had a minor speaking role as the head waiter of a restaurant, she was one of the dancing waitresses. This is how we met. Honestly, I have no memory of it. I had to be reminded of it later.
Next year, after having played Prospero (sometimes promises do come through), I was in a play called Lend Me a Tenor. As was Dana. It was a small cast, so I got to know her. And the more I got to know her, the more I liked her. A couple weeks before the play opened, I wrote her a note. It wasn't quite a 'Check this box if you like me' note, but it wasn't far off. But it was fairly soppy and Hugh Granty. I passed it to her between classes and awaited a response. We had rehearsal after school, throughout rehearsal, I was waiting. Not a sausage. Not even a spare look in my direction. She had to leave early and on her way out the door, she asked if we could talk outside. I followed her. She told me that the note was very sweet and that she liked me too. She kissed me briefly on the cheek and said we could date. And she was off. This was on a Thursday. For the next couple of days there was talking and hand holding, very nice things. We had entered dress rehearsals. And she got sick. Not terribly sick, but enough to throw her for a loop. There was a rehearsal where whenever neither of us was on stage, she laid her head in my lap while laying down on a sofa. And at the end of that night, there was a kiss. A real kiss. A couple days later, before the show opened, it was over. She said that she wasn't ready to date and she was sick all the time, so she didn't have the strength to get into something she wasn't ready for. Which was all perfectly true. We went back to being friends and that was that. I had broached the subject once a few months later, but not seriously.
Fast forward about a year and a half. Becky and I were together again in all but name. Tentatively, hesitantly on my part. I cared for her, but for some reason I didn't want to admit that to myself. She had told me she loved me, but I wasn't certain if I went that deep. And then suddenly, I did. I realized I was just being a fool. So I reciprocated. Two weeks later, before we had even particularly told anyone we were dating, I asked her to marry me. We were post-coital one afternoon, the sun filtering its way through the blinds, and I realized for the first time in a long time I was completely happy. She was stunned. She was stunned? Hell, I was stunned. But I meant it. She said yes. We were more or less inseparable from that point on. A double act.
Skip ahead a few more years. We decided to wait a year after we graduated to get married. I had fallen in and out of contact with Dana over the years. I would do something or she would do something and it would piss the other off and we wouldn't talk for awhile. Or we would simply be busy and forget. But we were talking now. She was in New York, studying theatre at NYU. She had been dating a boy in England named Jamie. And I had struck up an online friendship with him too. They would occasionally post erotica, both real and fantastic, on their journals. I read and enjoyed them. Sometimes I left little notes saying as such. And sometimes so did Becky. Dana told me I should write one. I did, posted it, and she liked it. I wrote another: a threesome featuring thinly veiled versions of Becky, Dana and myself. It was a hit. Dana was convinced it was a true story. If only!
Dana was going to come to the wedding and Jamie was going to fly out. About a month beforehand though, they broke up. Jamie didn't did come out, but Dana did. It meant a lot to both of us that she flew all the way from NYC to be there.
Becky and I didn't have a honeymoon right away. But we were given a trip to NYC to go see Spamalot by my aunt. We wound up taking it just before Thanksgiving. There was a comic book convention we wanted to go to, and gee, we got to see Dana a few nights.
Periodically Dana would come back to the Bay Area and we would hang out. It was grand. One time she happened to come just as I found out I lost a promotion at work. She and Becky were already together and I called Becky to tell her that we were drinking that night. This was very unusual, as I never drank. They got a few things, including some rum, and when I got off, we went back to our place and I began to drown my sorrows.
The three of us were on the couch, Dana between us. I learned something that night. When I get drunk, I get a little handsy. Dana put her head in my lap and I idly started rubbing her arm, and then very gently brushing my hand over her breasts. Becky looked over at me and gave a half smile. She knew I wanted her. She also wanted her. The threesome fantasy had entered our sex play. I massaged Dana's feet, my hands wandered further up. She flipped over and I rubbed her back. Becky had to go to bed about 1:00 AM, but she gave me the nod. I continued to massage Dana on the sofa. She got up and wanted to put on some music.
'David Bowie. I love David Bowie. Oooh, we should put on David Bowie have have a threesome!'
I just about died. Drunk though we both were, I tried to lead her into the bedroom, but Dana decided she didn't want to wake up Becky.
'Do you have any idea how much she wants you?' I said, with the sudden solemness of the drunk. 'Do you have any idea how much I want you?'
She smiled, but we didn't go into the bedroom. We stayed on the sofa for another couple hours, spooning sitting up, my hands openly cupping her. About 3:00, I went to bed. I climbed in. Becky opened an eye. 'I got her too drunk. She wanted to, but she was too drunk.' I told Becky what had happened and she grabbed my hand and lead it to her cunt. I told her what I had planned as I fingered her. We fucked, I told her exactly what Dana would have been doing. It was a virtual threesome. It was some of the best sex we ever had, actually. We eventually went to sleep.
The next morning, Dana was quite hungover. I had a slight headache, but that's about as hungover as I get (not that I knew that at the time). Becky was in the shower and I lead Dana in so she could be sick. It was slightly strange, but whatever. Dana went home, planning on coming back later that night. But it didn't happen. I took her too lunch a couple days later, but the three of us didn't get together, and off again she went.
At this time I was tired of the Bay Area. I'd lived here my entire live, and I was ready for a change. I wanted to move up to Portand, Oregon. Which has a similar vibe to the bay area, but a wetter climate. It's also a tiny Mecca of comic book folk, and I was thinking of trying to break into the industry. And independently, after she finished college, Dana moved to Portland because she had family in the area. Well, now! Wasn't this something? Becky and I began to talk seriously about moving to Portland. Dana suggested that the three of us live together to cut down on costs. I brought it up to Becky and she seemed to think it was a good idea. For six months we plotted, and planned, and I grew more attached to the idea of a poly relationship between the three of us. I knew it wasn't going to happen. I hoped it would, but deep down I knew it wouldn't.
We were due to move on January 3rd. As November and December dragged on, Becky started to withdraw. I figured she was just nervous about the move, which was perfectly natural. I had turned in notice at work. A week before Christmas, Becky told me she no longer loved me and she wasn't moving to Portland.
Marley was dead to begin with...
Hurm, wrong story. I suppose this is really the story of three people: Dana, Becky (my ex-wife) and myself. I shall skip over some details for sanity, but this is how it began.
I met Dana in high school. She was a freshman, I was a junior. It was spring, but this young man's heart had not turned to thoughts of fancy. In October I had split from Becky. We'd dated for a hair over three years and things had come to a natural, mutual, if slightly acrimonious end. By the spring, while I was no longer upset, I was too preoccupied with other matters to consider dating. I was slogging my way through a production of Hello Dolly being done by the school. I have less than no interest in musicals, and was basically coerced into doing it by the drama teacher with promises of Prospero next year. I had a minor speaking role as the head waiter of a restaurant, she was one of the dancing waitresses. This is how we met. Honestly, I have no memory of it. I had to be reminded of it later.
Next year, after having played Prospero (sometimes promises do come through), I was in a play called Lend Me a Tenor. As was Dana. It was a small cast, so I got to know her. And the more I got to know her, the more I liked her. A couple weeks before the play opened, I wrote her a note. It wasn't quite a 'Check this box if you like me' note, but it wasn't far off. But it was fairly soppy and Hugh Granty. I passed it to her between classes and awaited a response. We had rehearsal after school, throughout rehearsal, I was waiting. Not a sausage. Not even a spare look in my direction. She had to leave early and on her way out the door, she asked if we could talk outside. I followed her. She told me that the note was very sweet and that she liked me too. She kissed me briefly on the cheek and said we could date. And she was off. This was on a Thursday. For the next couple of days there was talking and hand holding, very nice things. We had entered dress rehearsals. And she got sick. Not terribly sick, but enough to throw her for a loop. There was a rehearsal where whenever neither of us was on stage, she laid her head in my lap while laying down on a sofa. And at the end of that night, there was a kiss. A real kiss. A couple days later, before the show opened, it was over. She said that she wasn't ready to date and she was sick all the time, so she didn't have the strength to get into something she wasn't ready for. Which was all perfectly true. We went back to being friends and that was that. I had broached the subject once a few months later, but not seriously.
Fast forward about a year and a half. Becky and I were together again in all but name. Tentatively, hesitantly on my part. I cared for her, but for some reason I didn't want to admit that to myself. She had told me she loved me, but I wasn't certain if I went that deep. And then suddenly, I did. I realized I was just being a fool. So I reciprocated. Two weeks later, before we had even particularly told anyone we were dating, I asked her to marry me. We were post-coital one afternoon, the sun filtering its way through the blinds, and I realized for the first time in a long time I was completely happy. She was stunned. She was stunned? Hell, I was stunned. But I meant it. She said yes. We were more or less inseparable from that point on. A double act.
Skip ahead a few more years. We decided to wait a year after we graduated to get married. I had fallen in and out of contact with Dana over the years. I would do something or she would do something and it would piss the other off and we wouldn't talk for awhile. Or we would simply be busy and forget. But we were talking now. She was in New York, studying theatre at NYU. She had been dating a boy in England named Jamie. And I had struck up an online friendship with him too. They would occasionally post erotica, both real and fantastic, on their journals. I read and enjoyed them. Sometimes I left little notes saying as such. And sometimes so did Becky. Dana told me I should write one. I did, posted it, and she liked it. I wrote another: a threesome featuring thinly veiled versions of Becky, Dana and myself. It was a hit. Dana was convinced it was a true story. If only!
Dana was going to come to the wedding and Jamie was going to fly out. About a month beforehand though, they broke up. Jamie didn't did come out, but Dana did. It meant a lot to both of us that she flew all the way from NYC to be there.
Becky and I didn't have a honeymoon right away. But we were given a trip to NYC to go see Spamalot by my aunt. We wound up taking it just before Thanksgiving. There was a comic book convention we wanted to go to, and gee, we got to see Dana a few nights.
Periodically Dana would come back to the Bay Area and we would hang out. It was grand. One time she happened to come just as I found out I lost a promotion at work. She and Becky were already together and I called Becky to tell her that we were drinking that night. This was very unusual, as I never drank. They got a few things, including some rum, and when I got off, we went back to our place and I began to drown my sorrows.
The three of us were on the couch, Dana between us. I learned something that night. When I get drunk, I get a little handsy. Dana put her head in my lap and I idly started rubbing her arm, and then very gently brushing my hand over her breasts. Becky looked over at me and gave a half smile. She knew I wanted her. She also wanted her. The threesome fantasy had entered our sex play. I massaged Dana's feet, my hands wandered further up. She flipped over and I rubbed her back. Becky had to go to bed about 1:00 AM, but she gave me the nod. I continued to massage Dana on the sofa. She got up and wanted to put on some music.
'David Bowie. I love David Bowie. Oooh, we should put on David Bowie have have a threesome!'
I just about died. Drunk though we both were, I tried to lead her into the bedroom, but Dana decided she didn't want to wake up Becky.
'Do you have any idea how much she wants you?' I said, with the sudden solemness of the drunk. 'Do you have any idea how much I want you?'
She smiled, but we didn't go into the bedroom. We stayed on the sofa for another couple hours, spooning sitting up, my hands openly cupping her. About 3:00, I went to bed. I climbed in. Becky opened an eye. 'I got her too drunk. She wanted to, but she was too drunk.' I told Becky what had happened and she grabbed my hand and lead it to her cunt. I told her what I had planned as I fingered her. We fucked, I told her exactly what Dana would have been doing. It was a virtual threesome. It was some of the best sex we ever had, actually. We eventually went to sleep.
The next morning, Dana was quite hungover. I had a slight headache, but that's about as hungover as I get (not that I knew that at the time). Becky was in the shower and I lead Dana in so she could be sick. It was slightly strange, but whatever. Dana went home, planning on coming back later that night. But it didn't happen. I took her too lunch a couple days later, but the three of us didn't get together, and off again she went.
At this time I was tired of the Bay Area. I'd lived here my entire live, and I was ready for a change. I wanted to move up to Portand, Oregon. Which has a similar vibe to the bay area, but a wetter climate. It's also a tiny Mecca of comic book folk, and I was thinking of trying to break into the industry. And independently, after she finished college, Dana moved to Portland because she had family in the area. Well, now! Wasn't this something? Becky and I began to talk seriously about moving to Portland. Dana suggested that the three of us live together to cut down on costs. I brought it up to Becky and she seemed to think it was a good idea. For six months we plotted, and planned, and I grew more attached to the idea of a poly relationship between the three of us. I knew it wasn't going to happen. I hoped it would, but deep down I knew it wouldn't.
We were due to move on January 3rd. As November and December dragged on, Becky started to withdraw. I figured she was just nervous about the move, which was perfectly natural. I had turned in notice at work. A week before Christmas, Becky told me she no longer loved me and she wasn't moving to Portland.