-1I OWN NOTHING!!!

Bi Bi Jude!

I've always gotten song lyrics wrong. Or, more honestly, I've always massacred song lyrics. Doesn't stop me from singing them at the top of my lungs, though. In the car or in the shower, you can find me belting out any number of misheard words from my favorite tunes.

I don't mumble. I don't really care. You know that Hawaiian song, "Tinny Bubbles"? I always thought it was, "Tubby Bubbles make me want more lovers," and I still think that's better lyric than the real one- "make me warm all over," My version has a sexier ring to it, I think. And it's the truth. Tinny bubbles do make me want more lovers.

As you might imagine, Karaoke is always an enlightening experience for me. I stare at the words flowing across the TV screen, and I stop mid-verse to exclaim, shocked, "So that's what he's been singing!" for instance I always though that "Bennie and the Jets" went: "She's got electric boobs, her mom has two." Imagine my surprise to learn it was "She's got electric boots/ a mohair suit."

"But what are electric boots?" I asked Tommy

"Don't know, but they sound less painful then electric boobs," he asserted

In the bush song, "Everything Zen," I believed in my heart of hearths that handsome Gavin Rossdale was singing, "There's no sex in Ohio/ There's no sex in Rhode Island," rather then "There's no sex in your violence/ There's no sex in your violence." Much better news for Ohio and Rhode Island. I'd have to say.

So when Tommy heard me crooning while cleaning, I truly didn't know that I had the song wrong. I've always believed the lyrics where "Life could be ecstasy, you and me and Leslie."

"Endlessly," he said, putting his strong arms around my slender waist and holding me close to his body. I felt the warmth of him even through his clothes, and I stopped mid-dust and relaxed against him.

"You and me and Leslie endlessly?"

"There is no Leslie."

"Of course, there's a Leslie," I said thinking about our svelte next-door neighbor with the gorgeous smile and the long, red hair.

"Not in the song."

I tried to figure out what he was saying. He let go of my waist and walked over to our old-fashioned hi-fi. While I watched, he backed up the record and we listened again.

"I swear," I said, "He's saying , "Life could be ecstasy, you and me and Leslie."

Tommy shook his head. "Endlessly. You and me endlessly."

"Well let's ask her."

"What do you mean."

"You and me, I grinned. "And Leslie."

He started for a minute, his blue eyes open wide, then watched dumbstruck as I put down the pretty pink feather duster and reached for the cream-colored phone on the side table.

"Why not just go over?" he asked.

"You're serous?"

"If you are,"

So we went next door together and knocked. Leslie opened up immediately, almost as if she's been expecting us. Had she heard the sound of the music from across the hall? Did she know the hidden meaning behind that oldie from the seventies? For a moment, we were all silent. She looked at Tommy, then me, and then she smiled. "You need a cup of sugar?"

"Something sweet," I assured her, grabbing hold of her hand and pulling her back across the hall to our place.

"Here," I said, pushing her gently into our over-stuffed blue velvet chair. "Listen and tell me what you think." I backed up the needle once more.

"Vinyl," she said, flabbergasted.

"That's not what I want you to hear."

The song played again and Leslie immediately smiled. "One of my all-time favorites."

"But what is he saying?"

"Life could be ecstasy-"

And now, before she could finish, I bent at her side on the floor, put my hand on her bare thigh and said, "You and me…and Leslie?"

Her dark green eyes flashed. I saw flecks of gold swirling in their depths. "Yeah," she nodded. "I can see how someone might get that idea."

Tommy made his way to the other side of the chair now, and he put his hand on Leslie's other leg. She was wearing little cut-off denim shorts, and I could already imagine pulling them off her and tossing them aside. Did she have a thong underneath? Or simple cotton panties? Or nothing at all?

"But could you get that idea?" he asked softly.

She answered by pulling her rose-pink tank top over hear head, reveling her beautiful breasts which I had previously seen only shrouded by the tight tops she wore. Or by her green bikini when she was down swimming laps at the condo pool, her body glistening, her long hair shiny and wet. I leaned forward and started to touch her, and she tossed her thick hair back and shut her eyes. God, was she pretty. Waiting for us to pleasure her. Giving herself over to us. Tommy worked with me, his hands caressing her sleek thighs, his fingers darting up to her button fly and starting to work it open. He pulled her cut-offs down her legs while I began to kiss and lick at her hardening nipples. When he reached for her panties, Leslie whispered, "Why don't we go to the bedroom?"

That made sense. There was no way that the three of us would fit into this recliner, no matter how comfortable or velvety. Leslie stood and led us down the hallway in our own apartment, and I shed my clothes on the way, nearly tripping over myself in order to get to her. I pulled off my white T-shirt and kicked out of my short summery skirt. When I reached the bedroom, she was already sprawled out in the middle of the mattress, her panties off, her body long and stunning, freckles dotting her pale skin like a magical constellation.

Tommy hesitated at the doorway, watching as I instantly made myself at home between our neighbor's luscious thighs, as I did this every day, and not just in my dreams. I kissed and licked my way right to her center, not spending to much time on foreplay, because I was to hungry for her. We could go slow another time, when I was consumed by a different song. Right now, the melody in my head contained one message only: make her cum. And for once, I didn't have the lyrics wrong. I knew every word. Every single note. The dark red hair between Leslie's thighs was neatly trimmed, and I smiled as I realized she was a rare breed: a true redhead. I parted her kitty lips and started to lick between them, circling her clit with my tongue, then tapping on it to the music still playing in my mind.

Life could be ecstasy, repeated over and over you and me and Leslie.

Oh, but where was the "you and me"? at the moment, there was only "me and Leslie," and that was fine for the start. I dove into her lapping at her flood of juices, feeling that satiny wetness coating my face as I pressed firmly against her. I pictured how I like Tommy to eat me, and I mimicked every move. This was ecstasy. This was what the man must have been singing about.

Tommy waited as long as he could. He let me have her all to myself my tongue piercing between her nether lips, my hands roaming over her soft, supple skin. Skin I'd admired for so many months, each time I saw her down in her emerald green bikini at the condo pool, each time I watched her in her short cut-offs and skimpy halter tops. But finally, he reached his limits. A man can only take so much stimulation.

Coming to the side of the bed, he maneuvered my body so that he had the access that he craved. Then, while I continued to trick y tongue against Leslie's sweet pussy, Tommy gripped into my hips and slid his cock inside of me. He pumped me once, hard, and then held on tight, letting me grow accustomed to being sandwiched between two lovers. Then he started to move, slowly at first, and I groaned at the immediate pleasure that swarm through me. The way his cock felt was almost too delicious. He was filling me up, taking me fiercely with a barley restrained power while I continued to tongue-fuck her. I could tell that Tommy was in awe of the moving picture before him. Every time I sighed he sighed. Every time Leslie moved her body, shimmying sexily in the center of the mattress, he fucked me harder.

I glanced in the mirror over our dresser and saw that the three of us were joined in the most deliriously sexy way possible. We would have made one hot fucking record jacket.

Tommy worked to the beat that was already in my head, thrusting hard and then pulling back, trailing his fingertips along my spine, caressing and tickling me as he fucked me. I employed the same methods to Leslie. My fingertips stroked her, my hair tickled her, my lips and tongue made magic over her clit.

Life could be ecstasy, I thought, feeling the pleasure rise up within me. Can you feel it too Leslie?

As Leslie came, she wrapped her hands in my sleek blond hair and held my face to her body. Shudders worked through her, powerful and vibrant, and then she relaxed, limp on the mattress. The look on her face was one of pure….you guessed it…ecstasy. Tommy took this opportunity to speed up the motion of his hips, slamming into me again and again. I pressed myself against Leslie's leg, gaining contact with her smooth creamy skin, my clit make love to her calf, coming one second before Tommy did. When he let lose inside of me, Leslie pulled me up her body and kissed me, and then the three of us snuggled against one another, bodies sticky, limbs overlapping.

We were silent for several minutes, and I could hear the needle skipping against the record in the other room. Rutting against the paper label over and over, in the futile attempt to make more music. But we had all the music we needed right her, in a bed filled with the quiet sounds of satisfied breathing.

And after a minute, I said, "Now, can anyone tell me what he fuck he's saying in Blinded by the Light?" and Leslie collapsed into giggles.