Swing. Miasha

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СКАЧАТЬ glanced over the flyer and nodded.

      I cupped my breasts and mashed them together. “You ready?” I looked at my husband.

      He extended his free hand. “After you.”

      We opened the door that separated the real world from our fantasy and I strutted through. There were nude bodies everywhere: on the dance floor under strobe lights, at the bar carrying on casual conversations, in the dining area soaking up alcohol with food from the buffet, in the Jacuzzi, the pool, around the billiards table, scattered on leather couches and oversized daybeds. It was like the Garden of Eden, except Adam and Eve were multiplied by about fifty and that serpent that we know as temptation was the life of the party.

      “A Cîroc Coconut,” I told Nina, one of the scantily clad bartenders who stopped what she was doing to come over and take our drink order.

      A cute couple at the bar who had witnessed the special service looked our way. They had to be wondering who we were to deserve it. Game time, I thought, and I took that opportunity to introduce myself. It was ritual.

      “I love your breasts,” I complimented the golden-complexioned woman. Flatter first. Then probe. “Did you get those done here in Atlanta?”

      The woman smiled bashfully. She was a newcomer. Great.

      “Thank you,” she said. “Texas.”

      Just what I wanted to hear. She was an out-of-towner. Stewart and I preferred out-of-towners. That way, the chances of us ever seeing them again were slim to none. I had to be certain, though, so I hit her with a follow-up question.

      “Are you visiting? Or are you like most Atlantans and you migrated here?” By now, my drink was in front of me. I grabbed it and sipped.

      “Visiting,” the woman replied, still smiling. Then she looked over her shoulder at the pale-skinned, light-haired, thin guy she was with. Perhaps she felt like he was being left out.

      That was Stewart’s cue. And he took it. His hand extended to the guy, he said, “How you doin’, man? I’m Stew.”

      The guy let go of his cup, shook his hand a little to rid his palm of moisture, and received Stewart’s handshake. “Brent,” he said.

      We women followed suit.

      “I’m Victoria.” She placed her hand on those titties I liked so much.

      “And I’m—”

      “Danielle,” Victoria beat me to the end of my sentence. “I heard the bartender say, Here comes Danielle.”

      “Oh you did, did you?” Then I paused my conversation with Victoria. “Aye, Nina!” I projected over the music and chatter.

      She darted my way. “Another one, Mrs. Oxford?”

      I leaned in, my ear as close to her mouth as the counter between us would allow. “Mrs. Oxford, you say?” I winked at Victoria. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

      “Yes,” Nina answered matter-of-factly.

      “Oh, okay.” I straightened back up. “Just was making sure you knew the correct way to address me.”

      “Of course.” Nina put on a chipper smile, then shot a quick, cold glance at Victoria and Brent.

      I loved power as much as I did compliments. And from the looks on Brent’s and Victoria’s faces, they loved that I had it. They were hooked. Now I just had to reel them in.

      “Good,” I said to Nina. “Now, could you get that sexy gentleman over there,” I motioned toward Brent, “another one of whatever he was drinking?”

      “Sure thing,” she replied, scurrying to fulfill my request.

      Then I got back to business. “Well, now that the introductions are out of the way, would you two like to see our room?”

      Victoria’s smile widened along with her glassy eyes. “Your room?”

      “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not typical customers. We have a pretty unique relationship with the owners.” I sipped my drink.

      “We’ve noticed,” Brent chimed in.

      Make them feel like tonight is their lucky night. “So it looks like you two have a bit of beginner’s luck. First time here, visiting from Texas, and you stumble upon the VIP couple with their own room,” I smiled. Now go in for the kill. I took the pineapple slice off my cup and, looking Victoria deep in her hazel eyes, stuck my tongue through the small gap in the center of it. I slowly moved my tongue up and down. Either the Molly had kicked in or I was becoming a better actress by the minute. Whatever the case, I got her.

      “I’d like to see your room,” Victoria said in a sexy little whisper. Then she gazed over her shoulder at Brent again.

      He shrugged.

      “It’s laid out too,” Stewart assured.

      Victoria got up from her barstool and she and Brent fell in line behind Stewart and me, off to our VIP room. One couple down.

      In the hallway where our room was, there were six private rooms total. And I don’t mean private in the sense of belonging to one particular couple like ours belonged exclusively to us. I mean they had doors that could be closed and locked, whereas the other rooms and areas in the back of the club were open for all to see and congregate. Those areas were usually packed with people having orgies. Basically, whoever was in close proximity to you and your mate was whom you ended up swapping with. And it usually happened without much talk or thought. Like one minute you would be giving your man head and the next some random girl was sharing the task with you. Then you’d feel someone fingering you while someone else was rubbing your breasts. And before you knew it, you were engaged in all kinds of sex with all kinds of people. It was fun in our younger days when we were wild and free. But now we did what we did because it actually served a purpose in our lives. I mean, the selection process and the privacy were great, but we did it this way for the end goal—the bigger picture.

      On the way to our room, some familiar faces greeted us. Others just stared. They seemed to think we owned the place. Why else could Stewart be fully dressed in the section of the club where signs clearly stated, No Clothes Permitted Beyond this Point? My answer would be, if anyone ever asked, We paid the price. I laughed at my own thoughts. But it was fact. Stewart and I paid close to ten grand to renovate our room to our liking, plus we paid twice the yearly membership fee everyone else did. So we could do what we pleased.

      We were like celebrities at Puss & Boots, and the couple tailing us were groupies who had lucked out and been chosen from the crowd. I laughed at myself again. No one noticed though. Everybody was back to moaning and groaning. Licking and sticking. I loved it too. This was my scene.

      We approached our door. Stewart dug in his jeans pocket and pulled out a key, the one Kelsey had given him. He put it back and retrieved a different one, which he used to unlock the door.

      Inside the room, Victoria and Brent really opened up. It could’ve been the room itself: the leather walls, mirrored mosaic ceilings, plush custom bed, and flat screen looping our favorite СКАЧАТЬ