The Third by Alison Morretta

*THE BLUE FROG 2^nd PLACE WINNER*

When attempting to navigate the perilous waters of a threesome, there is only one way to ensure safe passage: you must always be the third. The third is new and exciting—a bright, shiny toy. It is objectification in its purest form, and that’s what you want. Bringing feelings to a threesome is like doing cheap cocaine: every emotion is heightened, each sensation a revelation, until it’s over and dawn’s dirty fingers part the curtains, and you feel as crusty, unpalatable, and disposable as an empty can of dog food.

Never be the third if a couple has a dog; the dog will not like it. Never be the third if you can’t separate mind from body; you will not like it.

But if you are the type of person who can exist in the now without regrets, you will emit a unicorn energy that will make a moderately attractive, lower-middle-aged couple approach you at a bar. This bar will be nice enough to have specialty cocktails but not upscale enough to have a bartender who knows how to properly stir an Old Fashioned. This will not matter because the couple will be drunk already, and you should be sober-esque.

They will be drunk because this is the husband’s 13th-anniversary present—the traditional gift for which is lace, like your underwear and bra—and the wife would never do it sober. She doesn’t want to do it drunk, either, and the husband was half-kidding when he suggested it, but their third baby didn’t save the marriage, so they’re hoping that maybe you will.

It is not your responsibility to question their flawed logic or tell them they’re grasping at straws. You will sit sipping a drink and look pretty. You will be clever. You will be alluring. You will be a puzzle to solve. You will be fine with this because the mystique is the game, and you’ve already won. 

You are uncomplicated. They are a mess. That is the nature of the third.

They will take you to their charming, five-bedroom Colonial on a quiet, tree-lined street because the kids are at grandma’s for date night. You will use the guest room, which is actually the husband’s room, although neither of them will admit there are reasons for that beyond his snoring. You will pay more attention to the wife because she wants to feel wanted again and her stretch marks still bother her and she doesn’t really want to watch someone fuck her husband but you’re here now and she promised him she was open to trying new things.

She is not open to trying new things. She would rather be on the couch watching Bridgerton and lamenting the fact that her husband doesn’t bring her flowers. She told him once that all flowers do is die. She does not remember saying this. She also does not remember why she agreed to let another woman into their bed.

This is not your problem.

When the deed is done, you will retrieve your clothes from the floor and go to the bathroom while they lay in awkward silence, wondering what the hell they just did and why. Because everything will be different for them now while also remaining the same. You will not know this or care. You will smile and wave goodbye and leave their picture-perfect house in an Uber, and you will never see them again.

You will not have to listen to them fight about why there are never any clean forks. When the husband asks the wife to pick up his shirts at the dry cleaners, you will not have to watch her hear it as, “I fall out of love with you more every day.” You will not see her crying in the shower as she thinks about how you looked on your knees or wondering if the sly smile that crossed her husband’s face in the cereal aisle at Stop and Shop was him thinking about it too.

They are not your problem, but you will become one of theirs. If this is something that bothers you, you should never be the third.

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ALISON MORRETTA — Alison graduated from Kenyon College with a B.A. in English and Creative Writing. She has authored sixteen nonfiction books for middle and high school students. Alison’s fiction has been published in The First Line, Black Sheep, and Blood & Bourbon, and she placed in the Top Ten for WOW! Women on Writing’s Summer ‘23 Flash Fiction contest. Alison is currently working on her first novel.

Art by JIKSUN CHEUNG — Jiksun is a painter and writer from Hong Kong. His stories have been published and recognized in the SmokeLong Quarterly Award for Flash Fiction, The Molotov Cocktail Winner’s Anthologies, Wigleaf, Atticus Review, and elsewhere. His art is forthcoming in Barrelhouse, Short Story, Long, and a mystery novel to be published in 2025.