The Performance Review

A His Best Friend, Our Bed Bonus Scene
by Isla Wilde

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Marcy

I’d promised them a review. I keep my promises, and I itemize.

Nobody tells you this about keeping two men. You have to be fair, and fair isn’t the same as equal. I worked that out a year ago in my own kitchen, with a caulk gun going. What I can do is pay attention. So I’d paid attention for a year, and I had notes.

They weren’t written down. Gordon asked. They were in my head, under four headings, in a one-stroke casual.

I was standing in my front hall in a pair of boots and a red bandanna. My green dress was on the floor under the key dish, and my legs weren’t altogether reporting for duty. I’d just come on Gordon’s mouth with Leon’s hands on me. The two of them were still dressed. Leon had his tie in his pocket. Gordon had his collar open one button, which for him is a state of undress.

“Upstairs,” I said. “Annual reviews. Bring the plaque.”

“Why the plaque?” Leon said.

“I want something official to hold.”

I went up ahead of them, on purpose, so they’d have to follow my bare ass up fourteen steps. I stepped over the third one. Behind me I heard it creak twice anyway.

I turned on the lamp. I sat down in the green chair, the one with the busted spring, and crossed my legs, and set the plaque on my knee like a clipboard.

“Clothes off,” I said. “Then stand there.”

I’m going to describe this, because I earned it.

Leon undresses like a man being timed. Shirt over his head with two buttons still done. Belt, trousers, shorts, all in one shove, and he kicked the heap toward the closet and missed. He’s forty-five. He’s built like a bank vault with a mustache on it. He’s got a pelt on his chest going gray in the middle, and a bad hip, and a cock that’s short on length and long on everything else. It was already standing up and pointing at me.

Gordon folds. He put his trousers over the footboard by the crease. He’s long and rangy, and he’s got forearms like rope from twenty-five years of wrenches. His cock is the long one. It curves a little to the left, like a man leaning in a doorway. It was hard too. He stood there with his hands behind his back, the way he stands for the anthem and for Otis.

Two naked men at attention in my bedroom, and me in a chair with a plaque. I’ve had worse Saturdays.

“Four categories,” I said. “Initiative. Attention to detail. Communication. Works well with others. You’ll be scored out loud. You may not argue with the reviewer.”

“Can we appeal?” Leon said.

“In writing. First Sunday. With pie.”

“Is there a raise?” That was Gordon.

“We’ll see what the numbers look like. Voss. You’re first. You had a chicken.”

“Initiative,” I said. “Thirteen months ago this employee said one filthy sentence out loud in the dark, with no joke ready, and changed three lives and a hardware store. Exceeds expectations. That’s the highest score I’ve got. I’m told it’s historic.”

Leon put his hand on his heart.

“Communication. Come here and communicate.”

He came. He looked at the floor, and at his hip, and I threw him the pillow off the bed. He knelt on it between my knees. He put my legs over the arms of the green chair, one and then the other, and looked at what he had.

“Out loud,” I said. “Tell me before you do it. That’s the category.”

“You’re wet to the knees,” Leon said. He’s got a voice for this. It drops, and it stops joking. “He got you there. I watched him do it. Now I’m going to put two fingers in you, slow, and you’re going to keep that plaque level.”

He did. I didn’t.

“I’m going to turn my hand over,” he said. “There. That’s the place. Fifteen years, I could find it in a blackout. I’m going to stay right on it and not go any faster, however you ask. And you’re going to ask.”

“Leon—”

“That’s one. I’m going to put my thumb on your clit. I’m not going to move it. I’m only going to park it there.”

“Move it.”

“That’s two. Look at you. You’ve got your knees over a chair and your tits out, and a business award in your lap, and your cunt’s got hold of my fingers like a breaker that won’t let go. You know what you look like? You look like the best idea I ever had.”

He moved his thumb.

I got the plaque onto the floor before I dropped it. I came with my boot heels drumming on the sides of that chair and both my hands in my husband’s hair. He talked me all the way through it, low and steady. There she goes. Give it to me. All of it. I’ve got you, Marce.

When I could see, he was grinning up at me with his chin on my knee.

“Communication,” I said. I had to clear my throat. “Exceeds. Frankly, it’s excessive.”

“And detail?”

“Attention to detail.” I got my breath. “This employee has been married to the material for fifteen years, and he still goes straight for the clit like it owes him money. Meets expectations.”

His mouth came open.

“Meets?”

“Area for growth: patience.”

“I just—she just—Gord, you heard that. You were standing right there.”

“A colleague may not comment on another colleague’s review,” Gordon said, to the wall.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“I’m reporting that I am.”

I stood up on what legs I had. I turned around and knelt up on the green chair, with my hands on the back of it. I looked at my husband over my shoulder.

“You can work on it right now,” I said. “Slow. Until I say.”

He got up off the pillow. He got behind me and took my hips in both hands. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down through me until I swore at him, and then he pushed in.

God, he’s thick. He opens me up the short way. He did it slow, like I’d told him, and it was killing him. I could feel his thighs shake. The busted spring went tunk on every stroke. He kept it slow for a count of sixty. I know, because Gordon was counting, under his breath, by the bed.

“Harder now,” I said.

He gave it to me hard. He fucked me into the back of that chair until it walked six inches across the floor, with one hand on my shoulder and the other one reaching around to my clit. I came again, quick and mean, and he groaned through his teeth.

“Marce. I’m close. I’m right there.”

“Stop.”

He stopped. He was buried in me to the root, with every muscle he owns locked, and he stopped dead. A year ago he couldn’t have.

“Follows direction,” I said. I was panting. “Most improved. You’re deferred, Voss. Don’t you dare come. Go sit on the bed.”

He pulled out of me, wet and dark and furious, and went and sat on the bed.

“I’m appealing,” he said.

“In writing.”

“Pike.”

“Ma’am.”

“Don’t you start.” I got down off the chair. “Attention to detail. You filed work in this category twenty minutes ago, on one knee, in my front hall. I’m counting it. Exceeds.”

“I’d like to say I can do better.”

“I know you would. That’s why you’re my partner.” I walked up to him and stopped an inch off. He didn’t touch me. He was waiting to be told. “Initiative. A year ago this employee asked what was easiest. He bought a building. He turned down a truck. He told a reporter the word. Then tonight he stood in my bedroom with his hands behind his back for fifteen minutes.”

“I was told to stand.”

“You were. Now I’m telling you something else. Don’t ask me one question. Take what you want. I want to see it.”

He looked at me for about a second. He’s a man who reads the instructions once.

Then his hands came out from behind his back.

He picked me up. He put me on the bed on my stomach, crossways, and I heard the second pillow come off the headboard. It went under my hips.

“Did you just shim me?” I said.

“Quarter inch. Quiet.” His hand closed in my hair, firm, and turned my head. “Leon. Sit against the headboard. Closer. She’s going to put her mouth on you while I have her.”

“He’s giving orders in my bed again,” Leon said, and scrambled.

“She likes it. So do you. Marcy. Open.”

I opened.

Leon’s cock was still slick from me. I took it into my mouth, and I tasted both of us on it. He said my name like he’d been shot. Behind me Gordon knelt up between my legs. He ran his thumb down the length of me once, like he was checking a bead of caulk, and then he came into me in one long slide.

He’s the long one. He goes where nobody else gets. I groaned around my husband’s cock, and Leon’s hips jumped.

“Hold still for her,” Gordon told him. “She’ll do it. Don’t push.”

“Yes, sir. Christ.”

Gordon fucked me slowly, with his hand in my hair setting the time. Every stroke rocked me forward onto Leon and back onto him. I had one of them in my mouth and one of them in my cunt, and I couldn’t have said a word if the house was on fire.

“The reviewer’s unavailable,” Leon said. His voice was shot. “I’ll take minutes. Pike. Initiative. He’s got her by the hair. I’ve never seen that. He’s got his other hand flat on her back, and he’s looking at her like she’s the deed. Exceeds. I’m writing down exceeds.”

“You can’t score me.”

“I’m the recording secretary. Communication. He’s not saying much. He doesn’t have to. She’s making a noise I can feel in my balls. Exceeds.”

I laughed. You try laughing like that. I had to come up for air, and Gordon pulled my head back gently by the hair. He bent down over my spine and put his mouth by my ear.

“I love you,” he said. He didn’t whisper it. He said it where Leon could hear. “Go back down. I’m not done.”

“Heard,” said Leon.

I went back down.

It went on a long while. Gordon doesn’t get tired; he gets more exact. He found the angle that makes my toes curl and stayed on it like a man holding a level. Leon had both hands fisted in the quilt so he wouldn’t push. I sucked him deep and felt him swell on my tongue, and I pulled off.

“Not yet,” I told him. “Either of you.”

Gordon stopped. He was all the way in me, and I could feel his heart going in his cock.

“That’s twice,” Leon said to the ceiling. “Twice tonight. I want that in my file.”

I got up on my knees between them. My hair was in my face. I had spit on my chin, and my thighs were wet halfway down.

“Last category,” I said. “Works well with others. It’s a joint assessment.”

They looked at each other.

“Last November you did this one way. Voss underneath. Pike behind. It was very good work. I’ve thought about it most days since.” I pushed my hair back. “I want to see cross-training. Gordon on his back. Leon behind.”

Nobody moved for a second.

“Behind,” Leon said. “As in—”

“In my ass. Yes. You’ve never had the patience for it. That’s your area for growth. Here’s your chance to bring up your score.”

“I’d need the bottle,” he said, faintly.

“Top drawer,” Gordon said. “Left side. I refilled it.”

“Of course you did. Of course you—”

“Read the label, inspector,” I said.

Leon read the label. I’m not joking. He sat on the edge of my bed, naked, with his reading glasses on, and read the back of a bottle of lube, and I loved him so much I couldn’t see straight.

Gordon lay down on his back in the middle of the bed. I got over him. I took his cock in my hand and sat down on it slowly, all the way, and his eyes went shut. I leaned forward onto his chest. He put his arms around me. He held me there, close and still, with his mouth against my temple.

“Go slow with her,” he said, past my hair. He said it to Leon, and it wasn’t an order. He was a man passing a tool across. “Slower than you think. She’ll tell you. Listen for when she breathes out.”

“I know how she breathes.”

“I know you do. I’m saying it so you’ve got something to hold on to.”

It was quiet a second.

“Thanks,” Leon said.

I felt the bed dip behind me. I felt his hand on the small of my back. Then his fingers, cold and slick, one at a time. He took forever. My husband burns eggs because he can’t wait for a pan, and he spent ten whole minutes on me with two fingers and then three. He kissed my shoulder blades while he did it. He asked me how I was every time he changed anything.

“More,” I told him. “It’s good. Leon. Now.”

“Breathe out,” he said.

I breathed out, and he pushed in.

It burned for a count of four. It did the first time, too. Then it was that same fullness I never did find a color for. I had Gordon long and deep in my cunt, holding still. I had Leon thick in my ass, easing in an inch at a time, with both his hands spread on my hips. I was stuffed to the teeth. There was a man under me and a man over me, and I didn’t have one thing to hold up.

“Talk,” I said. “Somebody talk to me.”

“I’ve got the front,” Gordon said, under me. His voice had gone to gravel. “I’ve got you. You’re taking both of us. Look at me. There.”

“I’m all the way in,” Leon said, against my back. He sounded like he’d been to church. “I’m in to the root, and I went slow. Somebody write it down.”

“Noted,” Gordon said.

“Then move,” I said. “Both of you. I’m reviewing.”

They moved.

They had it inside of a minute, the way they’d carry a long board down a stair. One calls and the other gives. Leon drew back, and Gordon rolled up into me. Gordon eased off, and Leon drove in deep. It never stopped, and it never jarred. I was the board and the stair and the whole damn house. My clit was grinding on Gordon’s belly with every pass. I heard myself, and I wasn’t using words.

“Attention to detail,” I got out. “Voss. Revised. Exceeds.”

Leon made a sound like I’d pinned a medal on him. His rhythm went all to hell for three strokes.

“Don’t cry in her,” Gordon said.

“I’m not crying. I’ve got lube in my eye.”

I came laughing. It tore right up through the middle of me. I clamped down on both of them at once, and I felt both of them feel it. Gordon’s arms went tight around my ribs. Leon’s forehead came down between my shoulder blades.

“Now,” I said. “Both of you. That’s an order. Come in me.”

Leon went first. He always does. He came in my ass with a shout the neighbors have a right to by now, in four hard strokes, with my name in the middle of it. Gordon held out through that. I don’t know how. Then he took my face in both hands and looked right at me, and drove up twice, and came so deep I felt it under my ribs. He said the three words again when he did. He says them like a measurement.

I came again on that. I hadn’t planned to. It was small and long, and it went on like a bell after you’ve quit ringing it.

We came apart carefully. It still isn’t ballet. Gordon went for the washcloth and wrung it out twice. Leon lay on his face and said ow and worth it.

I lay in the middle with my boots still on. Nobody had thought to take them off me. I’m going to tell Willa that and watch her leave the room.

“Final scores,” I said to the ceiling. “Voss. Exceeds, exceeds, exceeds, and most improved. Pike. Exceeds across the board, and he turned in extra credit on a hall floor.”

“And the raise?” Gordon said. He was unlacing my left boot.

“You each get a quilt.”

“He’s got both quilts,” Leon said, into the mattress. “He’s had both quilts since last November. I want mine in writing.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Gordon got my right boot off. He set the pair by the door, and he didn’t square them. I noticed. He got in on my left. Leon rolled up against my right, with his mustache on my shoulder. Somebody’s hand found my stomach, and somebody else’s found my hip.

“Marce,” Leon said, about half asleep. “Who reviews you?”

“Nobody. I’m management.”

“That doesn’t seem right,” Gordon said. He said it in the careful voice.

I went to sleep before I could argue. By one in the morning he had both quilts.

I went down at six for coffee. It’s my hour. There were three rings in the blue dish, and my dress was folded on the hall table. I know who folded it.

Somebody had been at the refrigerator. Under TUE and THU and SAT there were three new lines on the whiteboard, in block capitals you could set a level on.

VOSS — EXCEEDS.

PIKE — EXCEEDS.

HARLAN — REVIEW PENDING.

Under that, in a scrawl like a dropped wire, somebody else had added one word.

Tonight.

I put the coffee on for three. Then I untied my bandanna and left it on the counter, where they’d find it.

Loved Marcy, Leon, and Gordon? Leave a review — and read how three sets of keys ended up in one dish.

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