“First time?”
The husky voice comes from beside me and belongs to a pretty woman with shiny auburn hair that falls to her waist.
“What gave it away?” I laugh with more than a little self-deprecation. “The fifth glass of wine or the way I’m huddled in a corner clutching my pearls?”
She smiles, green eyes glowing under recessed lights. “This ain’t our first rodeo. I know the signs. Which one is yours?”
I search the small crowd and nod to Trey, in conversation with a willowy woman wearing a knit wrap dress and her lust on her sleeve. Blonde and slim, she could not be more my opposite if she tried. Happily plus-sized and healthy, I have no complaints about my body, though on occasion Trey has. If he fantasizes about a woman like the one standing in front of him, no wonder he encouraged me to shed pounds and wear stick-straight extensions instead of my natural 4A curls. She’s eye-fucking my husband so hard someone should slip her an eyeball condom, and his gaze back isn’t exactly abstinent. The man at her side, presumably her husband, seems to be assessing Trey just as hotly. I can’t blame them. At 5’10”, Trey isn’t much taller than I am, but he’s handsome and gym-fit, compact with pecs and biceps shown to advantage in a sweater I’ve always thought too tight. Too obvious. If this isn’t a night for the obvious, though, I don’t know what is, so good choice. If he pairs up with her, am I expected to pair up with her guy? I should have read the fine print more closely.
“Ahhh.” The redhead beside me smiles knowingly. “Raina and Ralph are regulars and your husband is just their type.”
“Their type?” I take another huge gulp of wine, fingers gripped tight around the stem of the glass.
“Let’s just say they like to share.” She giggles at what I assume must be horror stamped on my face. “Kelly Winfield, by the way. It’s my party.”
“Oh.” I take her hand in my limp grip before quickly returning shaking fingers to my wine glass, like it’s a raft in choppy waters. “You have a lovely home.”
Such polite exchanges. You’d think this was a Pampered Chef party, not the den of iniquity it’s about to become. On cue, Carl walks to the center of the room, and Kelly, with a quick reassuring squeeze to my shoulder, joins him.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” he says, his tone smooth and even, though a frisson of anticipation zings through the crowd. “We all know the rules, but I just want to remind you that consent is necessary. Watching is allowed only if agreed upon. Most important, have fun.”
“You’ve all been circulating,” Kelly says, lasciviousness edging out the sweet in her grin. “Speculating about who you’ll spend the night with. It’s time to make your moves.”
While I’ve been in my dark corner knocking back the booze, everyone else has been plotting and planning, including Trey. He and the couple he’s been talking to turn their heads in unison to look at me. I frown discouragingly, not sure I like the vibe I’m getting from that little trio. Trey whispers something to the woman Kelly called Raina, flashes a confident smile and starts toward my corner.
“Hey, babe,” he says, sitting beside me and slipping an arm around my shoulders. I stiffen. This dude basically abandons me at a swing party, flirts all night with anything breathing and comes slinking over here now?
“No.” I say it with my full chest because he needs to understand I’m not going anywhere with that couple and neither of them are getting near my parts.
He blinks at me, shock and displeasure clouding his eyes. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Oh, sorry. I thought you were going to suggest we have sex with that couple over there.” I nod across the room to where Tweedle Fuck and Tweedle Fum watch us greedily. “Or me with him, or me with her or any combination. My bad.”
“Well, I was. They’re the hottest couple here, and they want us.”
“They can have you, but I’m not doing it.”
“I thought you came here to try. You’re not exactly doing your part to save our marriage.”
“Oh yeah? What about your part, Trey? Before tonight. Barely showing up for counseling, always choosing your friends over time for us, leaving everything at home to me while you laze—”
“I don’t laze.” He looks around, making sure no one heard my sharp words. “And it makes sense that you would do a little more around the house, considering the different demands of our careers.”
“You mean you working in sales and me a lowly teacher doing the menial labor of educating our youth?”
“I make three times your salary, Sinclaire. Of course, you have more time to cook and clean and take care of things around the house.”
“And you’re one of the things I take care of around our house, right?”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this now.” Irritation sours his expression. He tips his head toward the waiting couple. “Can we talk about this later and go do what we came to do?”
“What we came to do? Or what you guilted me into doing? You basically held our marriage hostage to this decision. Made me feel like you’d walk away if I didn’t try this.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“And you’re being manipulative, but you always are, aren’t you?”
I blink, seeing him with clear eyes maybe for the first time. The weak jaw. The sullen mouth. The shifty eyes, constantly looking out only for himself.
“Are you coming or not?” He stands, scowling down at me like I’m a recalcitrant child in need of correction. “Not.” I lift my chin, meeting his eyes with scorn of my own, and I realize there really is no coming back from this. I didn’t think our marriage would end at a swing party, but here we are.
He grabs my purse and snatches the spare keys I used to alarm the car. “Well you can stay here and rot on the vine if you want, but you’re not taking my car. You’ll wait til I’m done. An even swap would have been fun.”
His smile is a vicious slash across his face when he looks back to the couple still waiting and watching us. “But Raina won’t mind taking us both on.”
Before I can say a word or wrest the keys from him, he walks away. When he reaches them, they glance over at me, their expressions searching, querying. Trey shakes his head abruptly, not looking back, but walking with them down the hall, disappearing from the room.
“Dammit.”
I should go after him. Normally I would, but I don’t want the drama and at this point I’m not sure I care. I slump into the cushions, letting myself feel the full weight of what just happened. No, of what has been happening. It’s only tonight I’ve allowed myself to see it. I survey the room, emptied except for a couple making out on the couch next to me. They can’t be . . . surely not . . .
But they are.
His hand slides into her panties, and she tilts her head back, moaning and repaying the favor with her hand down his pants, gripping and tugging. He nudges her blouse aside, exposing and taking her bare breast into his mouth.
Okay. I didn’t need to see pink nipples tonight. I stand abruptly. I could call an uber and get the hell out of here. I should do that, but not beside them while they’re doing this. They’ve progressed to dry humping now, and by the sounds he’s making, it won’t be dry for long. When I walk out to the foyer, there’s a couple literally screwing against the wall. I tilt my head, trying not to stare, yet fascinated. Trey never fucked me against a wall. He implied I was too heavy. Maybe that motherfucker was too weak.