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"I'm not sure," Duncan said, rubbing his bottom lip thoughtfully.
"Not sure about what?" Amanda asked, turning from pouring herself another glass of champagne.
We were all sitting around the fireplace of our leased chateau in the outskirts of Paris, enjoying a snowy evening during our Christmas holiday.
"Methos asked me which one of you," Duncan gestured between Amanda and me, "is better in bed."
Amanda and I exchanged a look.
"Really?" she asked rhetorically. "And you have to think about it?"
She turned towards Methos and asked, "What about you? Do you have to think about it?"
Methos cleared his throat before speaking.
"Well," he said in all sincerity, "you do that thing with your tongue."
He turned to Duncan. "You know what I mean? That swirly thing with her tongue."
"Oh, yeah," Duncan replied, sitting up straighter. "That's good."
"But Lyn," Methos continued, snapping his fingers, "she does that other thing with her tongue.
Methos turned to Eliot, "You know what I mean?"
All eyes were on Eliot as we awaited his answer.
He took a slow sip of his whiskey, then set his glass down.
"Yeah," he smiled, "I know that thing she does with her tongue." He winked at me.
My lips parted unconsciously as his thoughts filled my head--memories of my tongue on his body.
"Well," Methos asked, "what about Amanda's tongue thing?"
Amanda stepped closer to me, snaking her arm around my waist.
"He hasn't had the pleasure," she said suggestively.
Sitting up even straighter, Duncan quietly said, "Oh!"
Methos chuckled loudly and said, "Anybody fancy a fivesome?"