Steamy Swingers- The Box Set (First Time Swingers): All Three Episodes Value Priced! Read online

  I shake my head and smile.

  I flip the bacon and crack two eggs into the other frying pan. Sure, he’s probably learned those two things from the porn sites but that doesn’t make them any less hot, does it? An image of the threesome, the two girls and a guy naked in bed, pops into my mind. Jeeze, does Mason think I’m up for that?

  But he likes porn…Maybe we could watch it together. Not the swinger, multiple partner stuff but regular guy girl ones. Porn is boring, yes but if it will help get the zing back in our marriage, I’ll suffer through it. There’s an adult store just around the corner from work. NO. Forget that. What if someone saw me going in? They’d think I was a pervert or something. I’ll find one that’s a little more out-of-the-way.

  His lips are warm on my neck while his arms circle my body, hand slipping inside my robe to cup my breast.

  “Mmm…a real breakfast?” His breath and words tickle my ear before his teeth gently bite the lobe.

  I turn and place my arm over his shoulder and run the fingers of my other hand through the fine dark hair on his chest. “That was nice, last night. Just showing my appreciation, I guess.”

  His fingers lift my hair from the side of my cheek and he tilts my face up. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight? I’ll meet you after work, maybe Shenanigans.”

  “Shenanigans? That’s a stripper joint.” I pull back and scan his face. Is he kidding?

  “Wear something sexy.” His hands slide down over my back and he squeezes the cheeks of my ass. “Something tight that shows your beautiful ass.”

  Oh my God! A stripper joint!

  “And…” He ogles my breasts. “Low cut. You’re a D cup and I want cleavage.” He grins at the shocked expression on my face and reaches to turn the stove off.

  “But…but… a stripper joint and dressed kind of slutty? What the hell?” My mouth opens and I gawk. He’s still grinning but he’s got a chubby, straining against the soft flannel of his PJ pants.

  He places my hand on his cock and tugs my body hard against his. “I may be a little late getting there. I want you to wait and be prepared to be hit on. You’re sexy. It’s about time you realized that again. Fuck, it will be like when we first met. Remember that night?”

  I lift my face and smile up at him, my hand massaging him. “Yeah but, that was a regular party, not some strip joint. Besides, it was only Gerard hitting on me when you walked in. When I saw you, I swear my panties melted.”

  “Hmmm…that’s another thing. Panties. Don’t wear them tonight.”

  The area between my legs is heating up fast, his cock in my hand, thinking of our ‘date’ later tonight. So much for routine date nights! Shit, maybe we should call in sick, spend the day in bed. When he steps away from me to get the coffee mugs and plates, I can’t take my eyes off him—the strong tanned, back, tight ass and long muscular legs. No, waiting and playing this little game of his will be fun. Fuck, it’s making me horny. My hand actually shakes as I take the mug of steaming coffee from his hand.

  ***

  I can’t stop smiling as I pull on the handles of the rowing machine. Thank God the meeting was cancelled and it’s Friday. I don’t have to be at work until this afternoon…not really. I’m going shopping as soon as I finish here.

  “Hi. How are you doing today?”

  I glance up and see Sheila, one of the gym’s personal trainers smiling down at me. On the stationary bike a few feet away, is the dark haired woman she’s normally with. Sheila embodies fitness standing in her dark yoga pants and tight, muscle tank top, always happy and offering encouragement.

  “Great. I’ll be happier when I lose the last few pounds. ” I continue rowing and return her smile.

  “Hey Anna, you’re doing great. What is it…ten pounds was your goal right? Personally, I think you look good the way you are but if that’s what you want…The last few are the hardest. You may need my help with that.” Her head tilts and her lips pull to the side.

  “Yeah, maybe. Do you really think you could help me?” Stupid question, but I’m getting fed up with the weight plateau.

  “For sure. I’ll tell you what. I’ll make up a routine and you can try a few sessions free of charge.” She squats gracefully down on her haunches and places her hand on my arm to stop my movement. “I’ve got a few suggestions, right now.”

  “Oh yeah?” Anything… especially if I’m going to be strutting my stuff to get my guy hot.

  “Come over to the new machine we just got in.” She stands up and flashes five fingers at the dark haired woman, letting her know she’ll be back shortly.

  I follow her watching the curve of her butt cheek, the slender shapely thighs as she walks. God, I’d give anything to have the muscle definition she’s got. Her fiery red hair is tame today, pulled back in a pony tail that swishes over her shoulders.

  She stops at a high machine that contains a seat and two long, padded extensions in front. “This one will work the inside and outside of your thighs, areas that normally are hard to exercise. Have a seat.”

  I sit down and place my legs on the extensions, watch her make adjustments so that my legs spread wide. She steps behind and there’s a clang of weights dropping.

  “Okay, now breathe in as you squeeze your legs together.” She stands next to me with her hands on her hips.

  I pull my muscles tight and my legs close quickly, the pads at my knees thudding together.

  “Try it again but slowly this time, inch by inch, a little at a time.”

  It’s much harder as I concentrate on the motion. Her hand slides along the inside of my thigh, stopping just short of my crotch. “That’s it. I can feel the muscle working.”

  Oh my God. This can’t be part of the personal training, can it? Seems a little familiar.

  “Again. Slowly come back to the starting position.” Her hand presses the inside of my other leg, sliding from the spot above my knee and up. She smiles and this time her hand flits in the crease between my leg and pussy. “Hmmm…you’re damp. That’s good. Do eight more reps and I’ll be right back.”

  I turn my head to watch her walk back to the dark haired client. Sheila puts her arm over the woman’s shoulders and hugs her to her body.

  Okay. Maybe her touch on my leg is just the normal way she treats her clients, all touchy feely. But her fingers grazing my crotch? Today is definitely not the day for that— not with Mason getting me all worked up for the date-night. Some of that dampness is not due to sweat.

  Sheila is busy with the other client when I finish the leg squeezes. I’m pretty well finished my work-out and besides I have to get shopping. As I walk by her, on my way to the change room, she stops me with a hand on my arm.

  “Anna, I’d like you to meet Carrie.”

  We shake each other’s hands and exchange the normal, ‘pleased to meet you thing’. Carrie is petite and like me carries a couple extra pounds on her hips and waist. She’s quite pretty with dark, almond shaped eyes, a perfect tanned complexion over high cheekbones. She’s probably in her late thirties, just a bit younger than me.

  “We’ve been talking and we think it would help both of you to work out together to lose the last few pounds. You two are usually here on the same days, so it could work out pretty well.” Sheila beams a smile at me and winks at Carrie.

  “I hate counting calories. But I’m up for a workout buddy, if you’d like to give it a try.” Carrie looks up at me through dark eyelashes, a wide smile on her lips.

  She seems so friendly, a lot like my best friend Phoebe, that I’m drawn to her. “Sure. We could make it some sort of challenge between us—the ‘Great Race’ to lose five pounds.”

  “A woman after my own heart. I’ll warn you. I’m super competitive.” She grins and steps closer to me.

  “Bring it on.” I laugh at her mugging the threat, especially when the top of her head only comes up to my shoulder. “Look, I’d like to talk more but I’ve really gotta run.”

  “Chicken. Running away already.” S
he puts her hands on her hip and shakes her head, stifling a giggle.

  Oh my God, she’s crazy. I like her already. “Seriously. When do we start? I can’t wait to whup your skinny ass.”

  “Oh yeah. It will be skinny when I WIN.”

  “Hey you guys! This is going to be fun. How does Monday work for you? Every other day, three times a week. Weekends off, but no cheating with desserts.” Sheila puts her arm around Carrie’s and my shoulder drawing us into her body. I catch a whiff of coconut, like sun tan lotion permeating a beach. It must be her body lotion.

  “Hey, aside from losing the weight, there should be another prize. How about, loser buys dinner for Sheila and me?” Carrie grins and presses her finger against my chest.

  “You’re on. I’ll have sirloin, Carrie. Lots of it. Bring your wallet.” I grin and remove her finger.

  “Okay, that’s it. Now get out of here, Anna.” Sheila’s arm drops from my shoulder and she gives my ass a swat.

  It stings and I glance at her. There’s a small smile on her face and her arm is still draped over Carrie’s shoulder. I like Carrie; she’s fun and every bit as normal as me, but Sheila? All the times that she spoke to me, giving me encouragement, was she sizing me up?

  I’ve never met a lesbian but gay-dar is niggling in my gut. Not that it matters what her sexual orientation is. I’m not gay and I don’t take Carrie as gay either. If she makes a pass, I’ll just tell her that. As I walk to the change room, I can feel her gaze on my ass.

  And I don’t not like it.

  Chapter 3

  When five-thirty arrives I can’t leave my office fast enough. I grab the collection of shopping bags, filled with my purchases this morning and scurry past Susan’s workstation. Thank God she’s left for the day, no more questions about what I bought.

  She would have shrieked, rolling on the floor with laughter if I’d shown her the black leather mini-skirt and the skimpy lace top--so totally different from the conservative business suits and dresses she’s only ever seen me in. If she had known me in college, she wouldn’t have been surprised at my purchases.

  I press the button waiting for the elevator in a building that’s almost deserted. It’s Friday, and lots of staff like to get a jump start on the weekend. When the door opens, the face of Greg the Records account manager, lights up when he sees me. He’s the Adonis on the seventh floor, waaay too confident, even though he DOES stand out like an Adonis in a sea of Woody Allens.

  “Hi Anna. Been shopping? You must have special plans for the weekend.” He doesn’t step to the side, away from me the way people normally do in an elevator.

  No, he seems oblivious to personal spaces or probably thinks that his encroachment into mine is some sort of gift I should be grateful for, spreading his charm and expensive cologne.

  I watch the buttons light above the door and smile. If he thinks he can charm me like half the women on his floor he has another think coming. I’m meeting my husband, a guy who could mop the floor with Greg and wring him out like a used dishrag. No special plans Greg, just dressing like a whore and going to a strip joint. I can hardly control the giggle.

  “Nope. Same old. How about you?” THAT should take care of anymore small talk. Guys like Greg as so full of themselves that he could probably go on for hours. Thank God, it’s a short ride.

  “Going to Chicago with a friend. Doing the whole blues and jazz circuit, clubbing and—“

  When the door opens I step out into the foyer already planning a spot where I can change into my new clothes. It’s kind of rude, when normally I would allow a fellow manager the courtesy of letting him finish, but he’s so young. Sure, he’s smart as well as gorgeous but basically he’s as self absorbed as a teenager.

  “Have a nice weekend! Don’t get into any trouble in Chicago.” I call over my shoulder before opening the large glass door to freedom and my car.

  Butterflies swoop in my stomach as I float across the parking lot, the shopping bags keeping me anchored. What a day! No, that isn’t right. The last twenty-four hours have been surreal. Mason… finding out about his porn, knowing we were drifting apart and then deliciously decadent sex. A thrill of desire mixed liberally with pleasure pulses between my legs.

  When he instructed me on what he wants—dressing slutty and meeting him in the strip club—oh God after the shock I almost melted into a puddle of lust. Maybe that was why Sheila came on to me, if in fact that’s what she did. Fuck, of course she did. How many women run their fingers a centimeter from another woman’s pussy. I don’t care that she was feeling my muscle working; it was also a sexual caress. I can’t wait to tell Mason. The first time a woman came on to me. It’ll probably get him hot. YES!

  What the hell’s come over me? It’s like the line in that Madonna song—‘Rejection’s the greatest aphrodisiac’. I was losing Mason. He preferred masturbating to porn than making love to me. And what makes it worse was that I was complicit. Well, no more. Fuck, I’m horny.

  I get in the car and ten minutes later, I’m walking into a fast food joint. The handicapped washroom here will do to change into the new clothes. Even though summer’s my favorite season, I’m almost grateful that it’s autumn and my trench coat will hide this outfit. Wouldn’t want the Mommies and Daddies with the brood of kids to choke on their fries seeing a sexy, blond bombshell strut by their table.

  I slip into the stall, shed the coat and navy blue business suit- a carapace disguising the wanton woman of my college years. It’s time for that woman to appear again. How DID I get so stodgy and conservative? Sure, working as an accountant for an insurance company is bound to suck the life out of the best of us, but still…

  The black lace top clings to my breasts and midriff, barely covering the charcoal demi-bra, and revealing the river of cleavage that Mason wants to see. Next, off with the panties. The narrow crotch panel is damp and I lift it to my nose, inhale my feminine musk. It was a long afternoon, pretending to work but actually fantasizing about tonight. Here’s the evidence.

  I fasten the black garter belt around my hips, noting the slight pillow of flesh that mushrooms at the top. Mason had said I was actually more attractive now and I’m sure the swell of my hips is part of that. Too bad, Mason. I’m going to lose that and win the bet with Carrie.

  Carrie…she’s nice and really pretty. I’m sure Sheila must have hit on her as well. How did she handle it? Oh God, maybe she’s gay as well. Was there a wedding ring on her finger? Maybe she’s bi. Oh shit, they’ll outnumber me and…and. I swallow and stare at the terra cotta floor tiles. In my head, Sheila and Carrie are in the sauna, naked, kissing while their hands explore each other’s bodies. There is just the slightest tingle in my clit and I shake my head to dispel the image. I’m not gay or even bi.

  But maybe I’m bi-curious. That’d be normal enough, wouldn’t it? You can be curious and never act on it.

  I roll the stockings and slide them up my legs--legs that are firm and shapely, one of the first things that Mason complimented me on when we first dated. Next the stiletto heels. My calf muscles screech above toes that are clamped tight in the shoes. How do women work in these things? Susan wears them every day.

  I listen to the bathroom door closing and step out to get a quick peek at myself in the mirror. Oh fuck. Is that slutty looking, hot woman really me? I tug my boobs up in the bra so that they puff a bit more above the cup. There. Not only lots of cleavage but spilling over. I swivel to the side to check my ass. Holy cow, the skirt barely covers the crease under my butt cheek. People will be expecting ME to get up on stage, the way I look.

  At the sound of a woman’s voice and the door starting to open, I scamper back into the stall and slip into my trench coat. Safely tucked in, I put my work clothes in the bags and leave, pausing for a moment in front of the mirror to refresh my lipstick—also new and scarlet red. I gaze for a few seconds into my blue eyes, wondering if I should put more liner and mascara on. Nope.

  I wink at my reflection and stride out the door,
ready to meet Mason. What’s he got up his sleeve?

  Chapter 4

  The deep thrum of dance music fills my ears as I step inside Shenanigans. Oh my God, where is the sexy confidence I had in the washroom at the fast food joint? My eyes flit from the giant standing at the entrance, casually chatting with one of the waitresses, to the inside of the dimly lit room. From my spot just outside the entrance I can see the stage where a young, black woman is pole dancing, mesmerizing the men seated around the stage.

  What has Mason gotten me into? I take a deep breath and lift my head high, pull my shoulders back as I step through the wide opening and into the club.

  The muscled giant turns and looks me over from head to toe and back up again, a questioning look in his eyes above the small smile. “Table for one or are you meeting someone?”

  I return his smile for a moment and look past him scanning the tables quickly. I know Mason won’t be there but it’s back-up for my reply. “Meeting someone. I guess he’s not here yet.”

  He steps back and gestures with his hand for me to enter. I nod and step inside, feel his gaze on my back and legs as I walk to an empty table near the centre of the room. He probably thinks I’m a hooker or something, trolling for a trick.

  When I pull the chair out, remove my trench coat and drape it over the back of the chair, I’m sure he’s not the only one who thinks that. Oh my God. Men sitting at tables nearby turn and give me the once over with their eyes.

  I’m barely seated when a raven haired, young woman, wearing a red plaid kilt and a skimpy white blouse tied under her boobs, is standing next to me. If I thought I was revealing half of my boobs in the low cut top, I have nothing on her. How the full round orbs of her breasts manage to stay inside the shirt is a mystery that I’m sure her customers like to ponder.