[Someone recently asked me for the details of this story...but there's no way I could fit it into a pm, so they'll have to share with the rest of Pixies. Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. The rest is as true as my memory can make it. You'll have to take it in installments, as there's only so much typing a girl can do at one sitting ;)]

I let myself in with the key Gail had given me and made my way up the stairs to their apartment. I knew they wouldn’t be home yet, which made it all the more strange somehow. No matter how many times you’ve been in someone else’s flat…it’s never the same when you’re there on your own. I kicked off my wet shoes in the entrance hall, hastily burying them in the pile of boots and sneakers that collected beneath the coat rack. What to do with the raincoat? No idea. Can’t leave it here. I balled it up, and made a mental note to find a plastic bag in the kitchen. I’d stuff it into my backpack and hope for the best.

The candles and wine were right where Gail told me they’d be. The matches, however, weren’t. I felt stupid for not bringing my own, awkward at rummaging around in their utility drawer in search of something to light candles with, and finally once again disappointed in myself for never having taken up smoking. I don’t like the smell, and can’t stand the taste…but I’m eternally jealous of people who can always put their hands on a lighter.

What to do, what to do….being panicked about unlit candles seemed preferable to worrying about the next stage of preparations. Ah ha! It’s a gas stove. Pop that baby on, get the first candle lit and do the rest from it. She can get the wax out from under the burner herself…teach the silly cow not to leave me matches when she asks me to light the candles. 35 candles in all, that part I still remember. The stubby little guys, I’ve never learned their names, mostly…along with two long table candles and a handful of tea lights. Most of them got scattered around Gail and Rich’s bedroom…the tea lights lit a path from their front door to their bed. I decanted the wine, placed the glasses beside the bed, and took a deep breath. Not a lot I could do to put off the next part. Time to get dressed. For reasons I still can’t explain…I headed for the bathroom to change instead of staying in the bedroom, wondering aloud how I’d gotten myself into this.

How did I get myself into this? I guess it depends on where you start counting. It could’ve been the day Gail and I met at a dance in the student union. It could’ve been the day we were much too drunk and trading “things I want to do before I’m 30” lists. But most likely it was the day we were wandering around London looking for something Gail could give Rich for his 35th birthday and, bored of old music shops, I finally just asked “what the hell does the guy want?” Rich was Gail’s boyfriend, and at 15 years older than us and gainfully employed, we thought he must already had all the material possessions he could EVER want. Certainly better things than Gail’s student budget could stretch to. “Usually, sex.” was her reply. “Well, I can’t really help you with that, can I” I shot back, replacing an old saxophone on a stand. Which was when she snorted out a laugh and said “oh, I don’t know…if you did help with it, I’m sure he’d count it as his best birthday ever.” We didn’t think much more about it that day, but we certainly didn’t find anything else to fit the bill.

It wasn’t quite a week after that; we were in Gail’s apartment, this very self same apartment, drinking what had to be our fourth bottle of wine, when the subject came up again. Rich was out at a friend’s gig, we had the place to ourselves. We’d spread out across the living room floor. Movies, wine, munchies and the remote control somewhere lost in the detritus. We were at that stage of the night where furniture seems too complicated, and lying on the rug is by far the most attractive option.

“I want to update my list,” she said out of nowhere. Very Gail-like.

“What, your ‘before I’m 30’ list?” I asked.

“Yup,” she says, rolling over on her side to reach the current bottle for a refill.

“Go on then, what have you accomplished this week that I don’t know about.”

“No no no, I don’t want to tick something off of it. I want to add something.”

“Really? Don’t know, Gail…it’s a pretty sizable list, you’re already going to be pretty stretched to do it all in the next 9 and a half years,” I teased.

“Maybe…it’s your fault anyway. Before I turn 30,” she raised her glass as if making a toast, terribly serious, “I want to have a threesome.”

“Oh for fucks sake, Gail…that’s already on your list…I thought this was going to be something interesting.”

“You didn’t let me finish….being in bed with two guys is on my list. I still want that, but now, I’d also like to try it with another girl.”

And how, precisely was this my fault? I wondered silently. Sure, Gail had seen me dancing with girls in clubs, flirting, and a couple of lucky nights going home with one. She’d even been brave enough to flirt along with me once or twice. At least, I’d thought she was just being brave. “What brought this on?” I asked warily.

“Oh, lots of things” she said, sitting up and leaning against the front of the sofa, crossing her legs which I noticed, and not for the first time, were long, lovely and toned. “I just want to try it, see what it’s like. And, you seem to like them.”

I rolled over on my stomach, and looked at her. “I like guys, too. Also tequila over ice cream…. I haven’t seen you leaping to try that taste treat. I still don’t get the sudden interest.”

Gail got quiet for a moment, “just, since I’ve gotten to know you…I’ve been having fantasies, imagining…well, the girls you’re with. What you’d do, what it’d be like. What it’d be like if I was with them. And it’s, well, I want to know.” Gail was a little flushed by now, I’d embarrassed her and I shouldn’t have. God knows, I’m the last person who should make someone else feel awkward for wanting to try something new. Feeling bad, I offered to refill her glass, peace offering. “And,” she continued, getting her playful stride back, “since I don’t want to cheat on Rich…it’ll have to be cheating with him.”

“All right” I accepted her return to playfulness, “it’s official. Before you’re 30, you’ll have at least two threesomes of various sexual makeups. The record has been duly updated.” I rolled back onto my back, awaiting Gail's next random subject of conversation.

“Another reason it’s been on my mind,” she started…apparently a subject change was not in the cards, “was that afternoon last week.”

“What afternoon?”

“The one where we went shopping.” No look of recognition from me at that point. “For a present? For Rich?” That afternoon? What about that afternoon would she be?….hang on…then I remembered “the conversation”. If I helped he’d be thrilled….this couldn’t be leading where I thought it was leading. I made a pass at Gail that first night we met, and she turned me down sweetly but flatly…..so this couldn’t be going in that direction. Period. There is, therefore, no reason that my heart shouldn’t start beating again, please. My realization must’ve shown on my face, because she stopped talking. When I didn’t say anything, she shylly offered…”I still haven’t found Rich a present.”

Oh god!