She said that, but I could tell she was glad I’d come. She was getting restless at home and found herself thinking more and more about work. I knew she’d invited me over to help her brainstorm some ideas for the future of the club as much as to just hang out.
"I know it's not urgent, but I need your advice, and I didn’t want to talk about this by text.” I sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, twisting so my back was against the arm, and I was facing her. "And I definitely didn’t want to talk about this by phone in case Hudson was around."
I liked her husband enough―he was a little strange, but he’d become family. That didn’t mean I wanted to discuss my sex life with him. Sure, Alayna would probably tell him everything later on―she was adamant they had no secrets―and that was fine. I just didn’t want to be there for it.
Alayna’s eyebrows rose. “Geez, way to pique my curiosity. Hit me. The doctor is in.”
“Okay.” Now, how did I go about presenting this? I brought my hands together like I was praying and put them up to my mouth as I tried to gather my thoughts. “Okay,” I said after a few silent beats, no closer to a beginning than I’d been the first time I uttered the two syllables.
Her jaw suddenly fell slack. “Oh, fuck, you’re not pregnant, are you?”
“No! God, no. I’m still breastfeeding Braden.” Although with my history, that didn’t mean anything. I’d gotten pregnant with Jake while I had an IUD and then gotten pregnant again while I’d been nursing him. The second pregnancy had ended in miscarriage before I’d even known I’d been knocked up. I hadn’t even had a period yet.
“Then what is it?”
Having found a place to start, I took a breath and dove in. “Remember how last year Mirabelle told us she’d heard about these sex parties around town? The anonymous, masquerade, private kink parties that required exclusive invites because most of the guests were elite upper class, important people? Famous people? People that don’t want their kinks in the gossip columns?”
“Yes, but you know half of what she hears from her clients is bullshit rumors.”
“Right, right.” Her sister-in-law owned a fashion boutique and was definitely privy to more socialite gossip than either of us. “But. This time, the rumor isn’t so much a rumor anymore. JC got an invite.” I felt my blood get warmer just at the mention of the club.
“What.” The word came out more astonished than questioning.
“Yep. Exactly what I said.” I stroked my palms up and down my thighs, feeling fidgety with nervous energy. “This guy who sometimes co-invests in projects with JC got us the invitation. Honestly, I think he has a thing for my husband—maybe for both of us? And is probably hoping for a threesome, which JC said no way to already. Not that I asked! He doesn’t share, and neither do I, but you don’t have to have sex if you go to one of these things.”
Her expression was still stunned. “You mean, you could just go and...watch?”
“Yeah. Just watch. Like a live porno.” I could feel my cheeks go red. Was this something people admitted to being into? Was I crossing some friend line, exposing myself as a pervert to an innocent friend?
But then her eyes glazed. “That’s hot,” she said with a dreamy sigh.
I let out the breath I’d been holding. Thank God she didn’t think I was a giant sex freak. “So hot. JC thinks so too.”
“Are you going to go?” she asked eagerly, like it was something I definitely should be considering.
Perhaps she was more progressive than I was because it had taken me longer to get to that phase. And I still didn’t have a solid answer.
“I don’t know!” I exclaimed in exasperation. “That’s why I need your advice.”
“Let’s talk it through. Pros and cons. Pros—go.”
It was strange to have her be the voice of reason. Usually, I was good at being rational and would have made a pro/con list first thing.
Fortunately, I’d started thinking through it while I’d been in the shower. “It would be fun, an experience, spice up our love life—not that it needs it.” I was reassuring myself more than her. “Could learn some new tricks. Make me feel young. Could meet new people.”
“Those are great. What are the cons?”
“I hate people. Why would I want to meet more of them?”
I smiled at her laugh, but as soon as she fell silent again, I grew somber. Because the cons, though few, were hard to say. They revealed my insecurities as a wife. As a woman. “What if JC was attracted to another woman? All those hot naked girls in front of him?”
“He’s always dealt with business around naked women, and he’s only ever had eyes for you.” She shrugged dismissively while somehow still making me feel like she was taking me seriously.
It made it easier to say more. “I’ve popped three babies out. I have a scar from my C-section. Two words: stretch marks.”
“Pfft. You know how devoted that man is to you.”
“Yeah. I do.” But that didn’t mean I should tempt fate.
Or was it worse to not take this opportunity? What if my adventurous husband eventually got bored because I didn’t feel confident enough to take these kinds of risks?
“Do you want to go to a kinky sex party?” she asked after I’d been quiet for too long.
Yes. I did.
But I didn’t want that to be the wrong answer.
But I really did want to go. The more I thought about it, the more the fantasy came to life in my head, the more my curiosity bloomed.
But what if we went and someone found out? Or someone we knew saw us there?
I threw myself back with a frustrated sigh. “This is stupid, isn’t it? I shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea.”
She scowled at me. “Why the hell not?”
“I’m a respectable woman. I’m a mother of three. I should be responsible.”
“That’s right, you are a respectable woman.” Her tone was fierce and energized, and I knew before she went on that she was launching into one of her typical passionate Alayna Pierce sermons. “And because you respect yourself, you should give yourself what you want. You should do something for yourself—and your husband. Something that isn’t at all about your identity as a mother. Is that really all you exist for now? To feed and clothe and protect and shuttle around these little humans? Yes, they’re important, but if you start acting like the only part of yourself that you’re obligated to is your motherly side, you’re not going to be any good for them. You need to be a complete person, whole and entire, and, by damn, that means going to a sex party and watching other people kink it up if that’s what fills your cup.”
She made it sound so easy. Was it really that easy?
Yeah. I was pretty sure it was.
I folded my arms and smiled at her. “Thank you. I knew that, but I needed to hear it.”
“And I need you to go to a party and tell me all the details after.”
I laughed. “I’m still getting up the nerve, but, for sure, if I go, I’ll tell you everything.”
It was a lie. I’d already made my decision. She was right―if I wanted to go, I should go, and I definitely wanted to go. Not to do anything, but just to check it out. See what all the fuss was about.
And I would tell Alayna about it, eventually.
First, I needed to tell my husband.
Chapter Four
While JC had assured me that going to The Open Door was my decision, I knew he’d be excited when I said yes. Which was why I wanted to make it special when I told him. He was the kind of guy who could turn ordinary occasions into something remarkable, and he was often surprising me with the effort he made to celebrate the simple things.
I wanted to do that for him.
Since this was the beginning of a journey to invest in our relationship, it seemed fitting to mark the event somehow. Considering we had three young ones, no babysitter, and one of them sick with strep throat according to the clinic’s rapid test, finding a way to fit “special” into our life
was a bit of a challenge.
But I wouldn’t be deterred.
After the kids had been fed and bathed and then re-bathed when I discovered puke in Jake’s hair and more black marker on Theo, JC and I split up for bedtime. I was the only one with the boobs so I got Braden. For once, the baby was easy. He’d been lugged around with me all day, which seemed to have worn him out.
As I snuck out of his room, I could hear Theo and Jake begging JC for “one more story.” That meant I had time. Not a lot of time, but enough to dash to the master suite, freshen up and change into something sexy.
Of course it took four lingerie changes before I found a teddy that still fit and didn’t make my stomach hang over the panties like the top of a muffin. Thankfully JC was the one of us who really got into storytelling, reading all the characters in different voices with enthusiastic expression.
Even so, I’d just finished with the flat iron and a fresh coat of mascara before I heard him coming down the hall. Quickly, I threw myself on the bed and propped myself up on my elbows, jutting my milk-swollen breasts out, hoping I looked more sexy than awkward.
He was taking off his T-shirt as he entered the room, so I got a view of his still-magnificently chiseled abs before he spotted me. Instantly I was wet.
At least getting aroused wasn’t an issue for us.
“I changed two times today, and I swear I still smell like vomit,” he said through the cotton material. Then the shirt was over his head, and he saw me. He stopped suddenly, his eyes clouding as a smile spread across his lips. “Well, well. That’s sure a nice view.”
He dropped the garment on the floor and moved to stand before me at the side of the bed. Bending down to trail his fingers up my shin―thank goodness I’d done a quick shave that morning in the shower―he said, “Two nights in a row. What did I do to deserve this?”
I winced inwardly at the statement. There had been a time when we never missed a night of sex. Now we were still frequent with our lovemaking, but consecutive nights were definitely a rarity. And I wasn’t even sure the night before even counted, since neither of us got to a release.
That’s why this is a good decision, I said to myself. We were good together, but we had been better. We could be better again.
“Come find out,” I answered, teasingly, beckoning him to cover my body with his. I wanted to feel the weight of him over me, wanted to feel him between my legs. He wanted it too. I could already make out the thick outline of his cock through his jeans.
But instead of laying himself over me, he continued drawing his fingers over my skin, leaving bursts of goosebumps in their wake.
“JC,” I begged.
“I’ll get there. Patience.” He bent down to kiss the sensitive spot on my inner knee, then followed it up with a kiss a little higher on the inside of my thigh.
God, this was delicious torture. He could do this all night, and I’d be happy.
At the same time, a clock ticked urgently inside my head. How long would we have before getting interrupted? Shouldn’t we try to hurry this up?
“Don’t you dare rush me,” he said, reading my thoughts, before moving his mouth to leave kisses higher on the inside of my leg. Higher still. Then at the crease where my legs met my torso. Then on top of the crotch panel of my panties.
My breath hitched as his lips found my clit through the thin material. “Yesssss,” I hissed.
“You like that?” he asked, not because he didn’t already know that I did, but because he liked hearing it.
“I do like it. I love it.”
He continued to suck and nip at the sensitive bud, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans at the same time. Without pausing what he was doing with his mouth, he pushed his jeans down his legs and stepped first one foot then the other out of them.
Then, dressed only in a pair of dark gray boxer briefs, he stretched out over me, and took my mouth with his.
While he kissed me, he shifted more to his side so he could reach down again to massage my throbbing pussy. I moaned against his lips as his strokes went from languid to rough, the beginnings of an orgasm building under his skilled touch.
“I like this,” he said, pulling away to gaze down at the sheer material of my nightie. His voice rumbled low in his throat, sending a shiver through my body. “You’re so sexy. The sexiest woman alive.”
Sure. Fine.
But if there was actually anything sexy about me, it was because he made me feel that way.
He kissed me again, his tongue sliding between my lips to lick at the roof of my mouth. “I’d be completely content if you wore this all the time. Or nothing at all. I’m not picky.” His mouth devoured my giggle, and his finger increased the pressure on my clit. “But I have to know―does this have anything to do with last night’s topic of conversation?”
My cheeks flushed. “Yes.”
One brow rose as he looked down at me inquisitively. “You don’t have to prove anything, Gwen.”
“Not in that way. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t…” But didn’t I kind of? Didn’t I dress up in a skimpy outfit to tell him about my decision so that I could simultaneously justify that this sex club thing was just for fun, and not because we had any problem finding the spark on our own?
No, that wasn’t the main reason I’d done this.
I brought my hand up to graze affectionately through the short trimmed stubble of his beard. He’d adopted it recently, and while it had taken a little bit to get used to, I’d found I loved the rugged scratch of his beard between my thighs when he went down on me. Needless to say, I hoped he never shaved it again.
“JC,” I said, reassuring him. “It’s not what you think. I wanted to let you know that I spent all day thinking about The Open Door. All last night too, since we were up for most of it. And I want to go. If you do.” He hadn’t really given his opinion on the matter. “Do you want to go?”
His hand settled between my thighs, his sweet caress momentarily abandoned. “I’m interested. But not if it’s going to make you feel inferior or like you aren’t enough for me or that you have to be a better seductress or whatever this is that you’re doing.”
“I don’t feel that way. I know we’re good. And the seduction routine? I seriously was just excited about making this decision to deepen our physical connection, and I wanted to start right away. Like, tonight.” I leaned up to kiss him. “Is that okay?”
“It’s very okay.” He resumed petting me. Then stopped again. “I need to say something for the record, though. I do want to go to this club with you. Not because I think we aren’t good together the way we are, but because I think we’re fucking awesome together. And I want to have every fucking awesome experience with you possible. And this has the potential to be really fucking awesome. And if it’s not, we never go again.”
“That sounds like a perfect plan.” I leaned up again to tease his lips. “And now do you think you could maybe go back to the fucking awesome experience that was about to happen between my legs?”
He chuckled, but he did as I asked, rubbing me closer to climax. I could feel it growing inside me, winding tighter and tighter and tighter until―
“Mommy’s making weird noises,” a tiny voice croaked from the foot of the bed.
Shit! We’d forgotten to lock the door.
I scrambled to cover myself up with a pillow, glad that we hadn’t yet lost all our clothes, while JC sat up casually, bending over as he did so that his erection wasn’t visible.
“Hey, Jake, buddy. We didn’t see you. Are you feeling bad again? Is it time for some more medicine?”
My five-year-old shook his head, his blond curls bouncing as he did. “Theo puked.”
I brought my hand to my face and groaned.
“I’ll take care of it,” JC said and began climbing over me to retrieve his pants.
I grabbed his arm to stop him. “No. It’s my turn. You did the last clean-up.”
“And I’m doing this one too.” When I started
to protest again, he cut me off. “I’m already up. You stay here and keep the bed warm.” He bowed down to whisper in my ear. “And keep those thoughts naughty. I’ll be back to finish this.”
But he didn’t come back.
He disappeared down the dark hall with Jacob, and when I went to check on him after he hadn’t returned an hour later, I found him asleep in the rocking chair with our Theo nestled in his arms.
I sighed as I covered them up with a blanket and kissed both of their foreheads then went back to my empty bed, where I fell asleep dreaming of what possibilities awaited us at The Open Door.
Chapter Five
According to the schedule of events on The Open Door website, parties occurred weekly on Saturday nights. The location varied, primarily taking place in homes of senior members, members not averse to sharing their address. Locations varied from down the street from us to an hour or two away. While distance would normally play a deciding role in which we chose to attend, this time it was our availability. Our calendar was full and, with a previous engagement already on the books, JC and I couldn’t attend that coming Saturday when the event was nearby. So we chose to go to one far away, not wanting to wait another week, and it was a full twelve days between deciding and actually going.
Twelve days gave me lots of time to think about it. Too much time, JC would probably have said. I didn’t ever change my mind about going, but I chose and re-chose my outfit more than twenty times, and, even though neither of us wanted to wear an optional mask, I questioned that decision daily.
I debated about my scheduled shift at The Sky Launch, too. I usually left work at six on Saturdays, and the party didn’t start until ten, but was that enough time to get ready? Would I be too tired after work to go out? Would I be too eager to care?
Then there were the discussions on boundaries. Every night at bedtime I made sure we were on the same page. “No touching anyone else and no one touches us,” I’d say.
“Absolutely no touching,” JC would say in agreement.
“If we change our mind about that in the future, that’s fine, but we’re not allowed to change our mind during a party. It has to be discussed beforehand.”
The Open Door: A Found Duet Novella Page 3