"Are you naked?" Mia burst into the bedroom. "I like you best naked!"

Syria stepped out the bathroom and stopped short at Mia's outfit, a perfectly sheer body suit that hid nothing, but instead drew attention to her nipples and bare, waxed crease with sparkling red swirls that encircled key areas.

"Oh, don't miss this part." Mia whirled around, and dual red spirals accentuated each of her b.u.t.t cheeks.

"AND, there's a bonus feature." Mia bent over, hands to the ground. As her a.s.s rose in the air, she fingered a perfect hole, well fortified to avoid tearing, that enabled easy access. "So I can wear this during the act."

Syria's blood started beating just seeing Mia in this position. She stepped forward and pressed her hand against the opening, slipping her finger into the warm, waiting flesh. Mia dropped her head. "See, that's exactly why I wanted this one."

"Where did you get it?"

"I know a girl who makes them." Mia bent further down, walking her head back between her ankles and reaching for the bottom edge of Syria's towel. "I think this needs to go," she said and tugged it off.

"You contortionists are a tricky lot," Syria said.

"I can reach all the right places." She backed up through her legs again and slowly rose up.

Syria kept her fingers in place as Mia stood, feeling the adjustment of her body around their connection, and the shift of the fabric as it stretched and moved.

"So you just came over here to show me this?" Syria asked, slipping her finger more deeply inside.

Mia faced away still, but moved with Syria's fingers. "I knew you couldn't resist." She exhaled and bent forward, bracing her hands on her knees. "You're too easy."

Syria withdrew her fingers and spanked Mia lightly on her red sparkled b.u.t.t. "I don't like being predictable."

Mia whirled around. "Oh no, I could never call you that."

Syria's phone lit up and started the opening chords to "Santa Baby."

Mia hopped onto the bed. "That must be sweetcheeks!" She picked up the phone. "It's requesting a video chat."

Syria reached for the phone, but Mia pushed it away. "Let's see how well Tyson knows you." She got up on her knees and slid the phone between her legs.

"It's going to be blurry!"

"All the better to challenge him with!" Mia said. "Now shhh!" She hit the "accept chat" b.u.t.ton.

"That's not Syria!" Tyson said immediately. "Whose lovely p.u.s.s.y is in my baby's bed?" He laughed. "Must be Mia!"

Mia slid the phone along the bedspread. "Tyson, you are the only boy I know who can identify a girl by her blowhole."

Syria peeked over her shoulder. Tyson was shirtless, his broad chest and strong arms filling the screen. She couldn't see the rest. "It was Mia's idea."

"I can guess," Tyson said. "Mia is always crazy."

"Crazy?" Mia picked up the phone again, pressing it against her folds. "Lick this!"

Tyson's laugh was deep. "You're going to smudge Syria's screen!"

Mia yanked the phone away. "Okay, yeah. Sorry." She tried wiping the screen on her outfit, but it was the wrong sort of material.

"Are you girls naked?" Tyson asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

Syria glanced down. She'd forgotten Mia had stolen her towel. "No. Mia's wearing some bizarre contortionist outfit with a conveniently placed opening."

"Pull back, let me see."

Syria took the phone, cleaning it off with her towel, and angled it at Mia.

"That's nice," Tyson said. "Now do I get to see my love?"

"Give me that," Mia said, and took the phone. "I'll narrate."

She pointed the phone at Syria's feet. "First, her sweet toes. Too bad you can't be sucking them." She angled the screen up a bit. "Then those ankles that could make a nun look s.e.xy."

She sat down, aiming the screen at Syria's legs. "Then those great gams. Shapely calves, cute knees, perfect thighs."

"Up a little," Tyson said. "I can't take it."

"Hold your horses," Mia said.

Syria tried not to blush. In the weeks she'd known Tyson and Mia, she'd gone way beyond something as simple as getting naked on the phone. But sometimes things like this still felt new.

"Turn around, Syria. Can't make it too easy on him."

Syria spun to face away.

"Now there is that sweet a.s.s," Mia said. "Don't you want to spread those cheeks? I know I do."

Syria felt her face burn. Crazy, feeling shy at THIS late date. But she was never on display. Even when she and Mia had been on stage, taking off their clothes, there had been so much else going on, other places to look.

"Now give it to him slowly, Syria," Mia said. "Come around with antici-pation."

Syria crossed her arms over her chest and took mincing little steps to come back around.

"Oh! She's shy, Tyson!" Mia crowed. "You're not getting a peek of this!"

Tyson faced her on the screen, away from Mia. His arms were crossed over his chest. "How about if I show you this?" He picked up his phone, angling it down to reveal his naked belly and the turgid c.o.c.k.

Syria lifted her hands over her head, letting her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bounce.

"You got it!" Mia shouted. She turned the phone back around to her, but apparently Tyson had the camera back on his face, because she said, "I don't have to ask what you showed her!"

"Give her a little something, Mia, if she wants it," Tyson said. "I wouldn't mind seeing that."

Syria felt the blood rush between her legs. She'd always hoped they'd do something like this once they started video chatting. She'd had s.e.x with Mia many times, with Tyson's encouragement, but never for him.

"You don't have to ask me twice." Mia set the phone on the side table, angling it at the center of the bed. "On your back, wench!" she said, affecting her pirate speak that matched the act that she and her husband performed on weekends, both the public comedy skits, and the private s.e.x shows.

Syria tried to lay back with poise, but Mia pushed her down, no more getting her flat before she spread Syria's knees. "You looking for something like this?" Mia dipped her face to Syria's mound, flicking her tongue in the folds.

Syria bucked upward, so hot at the contact while Tyson watched that she thought she would burst into o.r.g.a.s.m instantly.

Tyson said, "Oh, yes," but Syria couldn't sit up to see what he was doing, as sparks were shooting up her body.

Mia was rough this time, exaggerating for the camera, and Syria sank into the new sensations of getting her nipple pinched while Mia sucked hard at her c.l.i.t, drawing the flesh deep into her mouth. Mia's free hand kept Syria's leg up and out of the way, presumably to ensure Tyson could see every scintillating detail. She began to feel the juices dripping down from Mia's mouth, the wetness slipping into her a.s.s. The tension built, and her hips moved rhythmically with Mia's thrusting hands and mouth.

Mia pulled away. "Can you make her come this fast, Tyson?"

Syria wondered only briefly what she meant, since she wasn't anywhere near at the moment, then suddenly Mia had her fingers everywhere, in her p.u.s.s.y, in her a.s.s, and her mouth was pulsing against her c.l.i.t.

She felt jerked up by a string, the o.r.g.a.s.m pulling at her belly, then it flashed out across her body like a shock wave. She might have screamed, as her ears started ringing as she came down, her pelvis lowering back to the bed. She hadn't realized it had gone airborne.

"That was spectacular," Tyson said.

Syria covered her face with her arm, feeling uncertain about everything that had just happened. She'd always had Tyson more or less to herself, although they had never pledged any sort of monogamy.

"You going to spooge that screen?" Mia asked. "I haven't seen that c.o.c.k of yours in ages."

Syria tried to let go of any sort of jealousy, but still, it rose up all the same that Mia could claim any part of what she loved so well. She stayed on the bed, trying to work out how to arrange these complex relationships in her mind, Mia, Tyson, herself, the men who'd seen her have s.e.x on stage, even the boy back home she'd stripped for at Tyson's urging. Maybe she was more traditional that she was trying to be.

The silence lingered, and Syria suspected they were both looking at her.

"I'm going to go find something to wet my whistle," Mia said. "Show Syria how much you miss her." Mia patted Syria's leg affectionately and withdrew, moving swiftly through the house.

"You okay?" Tyson asked.

Syria still didn't move her arm. This was sort of impossible, wasn't it? Fun, but how could it go on? She was an Oklahoma girl who hadn't even had s.e.x until she was twenty. She knew nothing about polyamory or alternative lifestyles or how to undo a quarter century of Bible belt upbringing. Or if she should.

"Syria. Hey. Look at me."

She let her arm fall on the bed and turned her head to the video. Suddenly this seemed ridiculous. Tyson was in Seattle. She was having s.e.x with some girl just to t.i.tillate him. She jerked at the bedspread and brought it around her body.

Tyson was holding the camera close now, framing his face. The stubble across his angled jaw was longer than usual and his gray eyes were on the blue side today, probably picking up something in the room. She'd never seen his place. Probably never would. She couldn't afford to fly up there and he made no mention of bringing her. Maybe he even lived with someone, several someones. She didn't know anything and was too scared to ask.

"d.a.m.n it, I wish I could hold you in my arms right now. What got to you?" He looked stricken. "I shouldn't have encouraged Mia. She likes to show off."

Syria couldn't find any words. She just shrugged.

"Hey. You were amazing. You're like my dream girl."

Syria hugged the bedspread closer to her.

"I am surrounded every day by all these overeager women, using me to make them feel something they know is missing. And here YOU are, exactly the thing we're all looking for."

Syria shook her head. "I'm not anything."

"Yes, you are! You're wide open to the things around you, willing to try anything. Open to love and friendship and s.e.x and fun. It's an amazing thing to see. You're living life on full throttle. Do you know how hard that is to do? And how many wish they could do it?"

"You're so far away," Syria managed to get out. "I am only this way because of you."

"No, you're this way because of who you are."

"Right, shy like my mother, promiscuous like my father."

"No. Deep like your mother, willing to fall like your father."

Syria brushed her hair out of her face. "I want to find him. I want to see what he is like."

"We'll let's do that. After Christmas. We'll look."

"I can't go to India."

"It's your quiet season, right?"

"Sure."

"It's mine too. But we don't actually have to go there. Not unless we find him. We live in the information age. We'll track him down."

Syria sat up. "Maybe."

"We'll start at the ashram where they met. See if they have records. Search outward."

Syria nodded. Suddenly she felt terribly tired. "We can talk about it when you come down for Christmas," she said. They had planned on spending several days together before Syria flew out to see her mother.

His face darkened. "I had to rearrange my schedule to come up and see you last weekend," he said. "One of my clients changed her party just for me. I have to accommodate her."

Syria's heart fell to her stomach. "Okay."

"It was my only gap. It gets sort of crazy busy at Christmas in my line of work."

"Right. Santa strippers are a necessary part of every holiday."

"Syria, please, don't."

She couldn't take it one more minute. This was just too impossible, too hard. He never even said what he was doing for the holiday, if he would be with family, if he even had family. She didn't know enough about him to even speculate.

"It's fine, Tyson. I should go find Mia."

He set his phone down and leaned forward on his bed. She could see all of him again, the tight muscles of his abs, the bulging thighs. The need for him pierced her, but she pushed it down. Everyone else saw all these things every day. It was his job. They could touch him and laugh and call him up to come over. She couldn't ask for anything.

"Can I call you later, when she's gone?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Sure."

He nodded. "Okay." His playful expression was gone as he rubbed his hands over his rough cheeks. He looked tired, actually. "We'll work this out, Syria. I want to work this out."

She reached over for the phone. "Bye, Tyson," she said.