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Amy Marie Rogers was the kind of friend one does not soon forget. Neither was Stephanie Potteroff. We used to live at the same apartment complex and while our peripheral relationship only included late night parties at the apartment complex hot tub, an occasional trip to a bar or club, and hanging out at each other’s apartment watching movies. Amy was never alone. She and Stephanie Potteroff- yes, that was her name and the joke of a lot of crude remarks- were practically inseparable. Amy lived on the second floor in a three-floor stock of apartments and Stephanie lived above her.Amy was Hispanic and Stephanie was your typical blonde- goofy and a bit slow when it came to jokes, which made the two of them very fun to be around. Every guy in the apartment complex tried at one point of another, to bed either Stephanie or Amy. Some succeeded and some did not. As much as I tried, I was not one of the lucky guys. I was deemed to close a friend to screw around with. I hated it.So, after ten years of losing contact with both Amy and Stephanie, Amy walked right back into my life one day, via social media. I hadn’t thought about either her or Stephanie in years, assuming they each had gotten married and moved on in their respective personal lives.I was right. Amy had gotten married and then divorced. Amy and I managed to meet up and our meetup, for whatever reason, quickly escalated into a relationship neither of us had planned on. I don’t know who was more shocked, her or I. We connected on so many different levels and the sex was off the wall crazy. Why she and I had not connected before, was a huge mystery to me. We both chalked it up to maturity and perhaps a bit of curiosity and a lot of desperation.So, one afternoon, as we lie naked on my couch, having just exhausted every ounce of energy with us, I asked,“Whatever happened to Potteroff?”Amy was astonished that I had suddenly remembered Stephanie out of the clear blue.“What Ankara bayan escort made you think of her?” Amy asked.“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “she just popped into my mind. I know the two of you were good friends and I was just curious if you knew.”“She was a crazy bitch,” Amy replied, “and I put the emphasis on crazy.”I told Amy I assumed that she and Stephanie were very close friends.“We were,” Amy replied, “until she screwed with Terry.”Terry was another guy at the apartment complex. He and Amy had a brief fling and then it ended. No one really knew the details. Now, ten years after, I was finding out. According to Amy, Stephanie screwed around with Terry while they were dating.“What a bitch,” I replied.“Not really,” Amy replied. “I got even. Actually, we got even. Terry was screwing around with another girl at the same time he was messing around with me and with Stephanie.”Damn. They should have called the apartment complex “Peyton Place.”I was all ears at this point.“So what did y’all do?”Amy was quiet for a second and I pressed her for the details. She was hesitant to say, at first, thinking I might think bad of her, but I assured her that short of murder, I wouldn’t think bad of her.“We arranged for a threesome, and after we screwed the shit of him, we tied him up, duct taped his cock to his leg, blindfolded him and took him out to the college campus, and dumped his naked old scraggly self on to the commons. He never bothered either of us again.”I sat stunned, but not because of what they had done, but because I didn’t see Amy as someone who was bi-sexual or into kinky stuff, like bondage.“I’m not into the bondage stuff,” Amy said, trying to answer a comment I made about her secret lifestyle. “And, I’m generally not into other women, but Stephanie, she swung both ways; she talked me into it.”“Did you enjoy it?” I asked.“Which part?” Amy replied.“The three-way,” I replied.“Yeah,” Escort bayan Ankara she replied haltingly, “I guess it was OK. It’s not something I live for, but it was OK because Stephanie made for a good partner and she was fun to hang around with.”The talk of a three-way awoke my sleeping giant. Amy took note and very quickly dispensed a little attention to relieve the stress. That’s what I liked about Amy, she was very quick to see a need and to address it.I wanted to find Potteroff. I was curious whatever happened to her, and in the back of my feeble mind, I hoped for a reunion and even perhaps, maybe, if I played my cards right and the stars aligned, something more. I called my little endeavor, “Code Potteroff.” Amy laughed when I told her what I was going to do. She wished me well, but said finding Stephanie would be like finding a needle in a haystack.Social media is a great tool, but it takes a little finesse to skillfully find someone, especially someone who is married and has changed their last name. Fortunately for me, Potteroff is not that hard of a name to look for and once I found a group of them in the small town where she was from, the search didn’t take long.Stephanie was strikingly beautiful. She was always a head-turner. And now, she was a Jackson. I sent her a back-channel message and asked how she was doing and if she remembered me. I had no sooner hit the “send” button than she replied, “OMG! Yes! I remember you! How are you? Where are you?”We exchanged phone numbers and within minutes we were chatting on the phone. It was as if we had stepped back in time.Stephanie, like Amy, was divorced. I told her I thought she was married, but she quickly explained that she kept her ex-husband’s last name because she didn’t want her daughter to grow up with a mom named “Potteroff.” I totally understood.I asked Stephanie if she would like to meet up for drinks and to Bayan escort Ankara catch up. She was all over the idea. We agreed to a place- a local bar and a day and time to meet. She asked if I was married and I assured her I was eternally and profoundly single.“Great,” Stephanie replied, adding that she looked forward to us meeting up.“Wear something sexy,” I said.Stephanie laughed.“I don’t pull off sexy very well,” she said.“Yes, you do,” I shot back. “As I recall, you have always pulled off sexy very well, even when you didn’t intend to.”Stephanie had once pulled herself out of the pool and her very low cut, very loose-fitting bikini top decided to come unfastened. She flashed everyone at the pool, and her flashing was the chat of the community for weeks on-end.“You never forget anything, do you?” Stephanie remarked.“Not much,” I replied. “Some things in life, just stick in your memory bank and never go away.”“Scarred you for life,” Stephanie replied.“Not scarred, but very impressionable,” I replied.Stephanie chuckled.“I’ll do my best,’ she said as we ended our brief telephone chat.I was a small bit apprehensive in meeting Stephanie, despite having met up with Amy and things turning out very well. Stephanie and I had a great relationship. Like Amy, I had tried unsuccessfully to date Stephanie. We had engaged in some heavy petting after a drunk fest one Friday night. She ended up topless in my apartment and I managed to talk her into a blow job, but then I passed out. When I woke up, my trousers were on the floor and so was Stephanie, who also passed out. I stumbled to my bed and we both pretended like nothing had happened afterwards.Stephanie wandered into the bar and I knew it was her. She had larger than normal breasts, one of her better assets and even after ten years, they and she were none-the-less beautiful. She wore a low-cut top, that accentuated her mammaries and she had her long blonde hair neatly tied back in a pony tail. Her wider hips gave her a very shapely look. Ten years prior, she looked lopsided with huge breasts and a skinny body. Now, she looked every bit like a model off a fashion run-way in New York. The stirring in my jeans started almost immediately as I watched her survey the small bar, looking for me.
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