by S. E. Law
First Time Menage
A Forbidden Romance
S.E. Law
Copyright © 2020 by S.E. Law
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Also by S.E. Law
Forbidden Fantasies
My Fiance’s Dad
Trailer Park Daddy
While He Watches
Her Secret Baby
The Clients
Hunger
My Dad’s Best Friend
My Best Friend’s Dad
Trapped By My Boss
Pregnant By The Doctor
Pregnant By The Alpha
Making His Baby
First Time Escort
First Time Menage
My Roommate’s Dad
Filthy Twin Cowboys
Filthy Twin Cops
The CEO’s Baby
The Soldier’s Baby
Filthy Twin Stepbrothers
Sweet Treats
His Candy Cane
Her Juicy Cherry
Her Honey Pot
Second Helpings
Sugar Walls
Please and Tease
Forbidden Fruit
Band of Brothers
Her Italian Wedding
Double XL
The Boyfriend Diaries
Mommy’s Ex
Mommy’s Boss
Mommy’s Landlord
Daddy’s Christmas Gift
Daddy’s Holiday Baby
Daddy’s Love Child
Made for Them
Built For Them
Sugar and Spice
The Naughty Party
Blackmail Fantasies
Blackmailing My Dad’s Best Friend
Blackmailed By My Dad’s Boss
Blackmailed In The Boudoir
Blackmailed By My Teacher
Irresistible Bachelors
Sweet as Candy
Must Be Love
Meant To Be
Standalones
You’re Mine
Boss of My Panties
Naughty Relations
About My Daddies
About Last Night
About This Morning
About That Evening
Playing with Them
Playing with the Doctors
Playing with the Criminals
Playing with her Priests
Healing Hands
Dr. Feelgood
Dr. Man Candy
Subscribe Now
Want to be the first to learn about sales, new releases, pre-orders and special freebies? Sign up for my mailing list and get a free book here! This will ensure that you’re the first to know when new books go live at special release day prices!
Contents
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: First Time Escort
Sneak Peek: While He Watches
About the Author
About This Book
Violet goes to a sauna to relax after a stressful fight with her parents. But then a naughty idea strikes – why not get to know the men at the sauna? She’s seen movies about what people do in these steamy confines, and even better, it’ll piss her parents off. But what the curvy girl doesn’t realize is that more than one alpha male in the steam room has his sights on her, and they’re getting ready to share.
Scott and Mike don’t engage in spa time shenanigans because that’s for losers, and not gorgeous alpha males who can get any woman they want. But there’s a new girl at the sauna today, and Violet touches something deep inside. What they don’t realize is that the curvy girl is incredibly ripe and fertile … and soon actions have consequences, including a baby!
Violet’s sassy … she’s adventurous … and she’s taking things to new limits in the steamy, sensual sauna! It’s time for fun and games in this naughty tale that will make the thermometer pop! Swords do not cross in this MFM romance because this story is all about HER. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA for my readers.
1
Violet
The end of summer has announced itself with scorching temperatures and a thunderstorm. The temperatures I knew about and dreaded because it’s been in the 90’s all week. But the storm, as they tend to do, comes as an unwelcome surprise.
Clad in shorts, flip flops, and a tank top, I’m more than a little unprepared for the deluge that comes pouring down as I’m walking to my dorm. “Ugh!” I cry as the first fat droplets hit my face. A flurry of them follow, and soon, I’m soaked to the bone, running towards my building with my arms flung fruitlessly over my head. My curly hair is definitely not going to recover well from this.
At least I’m comforted by the sight of dozens of other students running in the rain as well. At a school as large as NYU, you’re never really alone.
When I get to the dorm, I stand for a minute just inside the doorway, dripping onto the building’s welcome mat. I scrub at my eyes with my hands, thankful that I haven’t been wearing makeup lately. Summer classes aren’t very well attended, so I haven’t had to worry about impressing anyone. The first semester of my sophomore year begins tomorrow, though, so I’ll have to start upping my game a little.
I frown at myself in my phone camera, examining the frizzy disaster that is my hair. This “drowned rat” look definitely isn’t pleasing, that’s for sure. I try fluffing it up somewhat, but it’s hopeless. The strands stay stuck to my cheeks and forehead, and I give up.
As I slink towards my dorm room, my feet making awful squelching sounds in my soggy flip flops, I try to muster up some kind of excitement for my sophomore year. I’m not very successful. Last year was fun, and I did relatively well in my Gen Ed classes, but I’m stressed about not declaring a major yet. I just can’t decide what I want to study. Why, at twenty years old, am I supposed to know what I want to do for the rest of my life? I rarely know what I want to do with my upcoming week. Choosing a major feels like a huge weight on my shoulders, one that I’m still not able to shrug off.
I arrive at my dorm room and dig in my backpack for my keys. As I do, my eyes dart to a pile of packages on the floor, all of them with my name on them. I can’t help but smile. Did my family send me some care packages?
As I pick one up and inspect the label, my heart sinks. Great. My family sent me some packages, alright, but none that I’m happy to see. Orgo Weight Loss, the white-and-green labels read. My mom signed me up for the Orgo Weight Loss program despite my protests. I’m a curvier girl but have always been happy with my body. My parents, however, seem to think there’s something wrong with me. Worse still, they entertain the outdated notion that women only go to college to find a husband. They regularly insist that if I just lost some weight, I’d be great wife material for one of the male students here.
With a heavy sigh, I bring the armload of boxes into my dorm room and lock the door behind me. My roommate and best friend Kristy is out, so it’s just me alone with my diet supplements. I tear open the boxes and stare at the contents with a frown. I’ve been trying them for about a month now, and they universally--prot
ein bars, protein shakes, and “desserts”--taste like chalk. Worse, they’re supposed to completely replace my normal meals. The cafeteria food may not be great, but it’s definitely better than this stuff.
My stomach rumbles and I dutifully grab one of the meal replacement bars. The wrapper says “salted caramel,” but it will probably taste more like concrete. I eye it with distaste. Maybe I could just have a sandwich, or a bowl of mac and cheese, just this once. No one would ever know…
At that moment, my phone rings, and I jump. It’s the jaunty tune reserved for my mother’s calls. I blanch. How did she somehow sense that I was thinking about straying from my meal plan?!
I answer the phone and try to make my voice as guileless as possible. “Hello?”
“Hi, honey!” my mom crows. “How are you?” Rose insists on calling every couple of days. It’s at least an improvement from her calling every single day my freshman year. My parents live in Wisconsin, and me attending NYU is the farthest away from home I’ve ever been.
I sit down on my extra-long twin bed, hugging a pillow to me with my free hand. “I’m fine!” I say, trying to match her level of cheer. “What’s up with you?”
“Oh, nothing,” Rose says. “Your father is out mowing the lawn and I just thought I’d catch up with my baby girl.”
I grimace. I’m definitely not an infant anymore, but as an only child, I’ll always be my mother’s baby.
“What’s going on, sweetie?” my mom asks. “What’s new?”
“Not a lot, really. Oh! Another batch of Orgo stuff just came in the mail,” I say, doing my best to sound excited.
“That’s great!” my mom cries. “I’m so excited for you! Your Aunt Nancy says she’s had amazing results with it. How much weight have you lost already?”
I panic. I haven’t lost a pound. “Uh,” I say, racking my brain for a number that sounds feasible, “about ten pounds! I’m really excited!” I add for good measure.
“Oh, honey, that’s wonderful,” my mom gushes. Honestly, Rose sounds relieved but a cold pit in my stomach opens, as it always does when discussing my weight with my parents. I wish they could just be happy with me the way I am.
“Ten pounds is great, but I think you could stand to lose about thirty more pounds,” my mom continues, and I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “You’re just like the rest of the Means women, with that spare tire around your belly and the thick thighs. It’s a curse. But don’t worry, sweetie, because I think these supplements will really help. I know that nothing else has in the past.”
“Thirty pounds,” I echo feebly. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds great.”
I fall silent, unwilling or unable to keep up with this conversation. After an awkward pause, my mom says, “So are you excited for your next semester to start tomorrow?”
I guess, I want to say, but instead I enthuse, “Yeah! I can’t wait to get back into classes. I have an Intro to Astronomy class that sounds pretty cool.”
“That will be fun, honey,” my mom says absently. Her tone becomes far more excited when she asks, “Do you think you’ll meet any cute guys?”
I close my eyes, trying to keep my cool.
“Boy, I hope so,” I manage through gritted teeth. Truthfully, I don’t care at all about meeting someone in college. It would be nice to have a boyfriend, but I’d rather just spend time with my friends and do well in my studies. My parents, however, are adamant that I’ll meet my husband here. They think the sole purpose of a woman going to college is to get her “Mrs.” degree. God. How outdated. But Rose continues in an excited voice.
“We certainly hope so too, honey. You know that I met your father when I was your age. It’s your time to find your soulmate. You don’t want to get any older and be alone!”
I can’t bring myself to say anything, so I make a noise that sounds agreeable.
“Oh, your dad just came inside,” my mom says, seemingly unbothered by my lack of response. “Do you want to talk to him?”
I’d much rather this conversation be over. “Actually, I have to go,” I sigh, trying to sound remorseful. “Just tell him I love him and say hi, okay?”
“Okay, honey,” my mom says. “We love you! Thirty more pounds, remember!”
“Yeah,” I say. “For sure.”
I hang up and flop back onto my bed, not caring about my wet clothes. I feel like a tub of lard after that conversation. I must be a real whale for my parents to be so focused on my weight loss. What the hell?
But maybe they’re right and I do need to lose weight in order to meet someone. I’ve only had one serious boyfriend and a handful of hookups that always fizzled out. Maybe someone would really like me if I were thin…
I shake my head. No way. I can’t allow my parents’ poisonous thinking to infect my brain. I’ll keep trying these weight loss supplements, but if I don’t lose any poundage, I’ll still love myself and my body. I’m sure I’ll find a husband someday who loves me regardless of the number on the scale, too.
I feel a little better from this internal pep talk, but I’m still damp from the rain and generally sullen. Dragging my feet, I get up and wrap my wet hair in a towel, mentally preparing myself for the frizz that will result. Then I change out of my wet clothes and into a fluffy pink robe, which puts me in a better mood at least.
Sitting back on my bed, I drag my laptop onto my lap, determined to find something to cheer me up after such an awful conversation with my mom. Maybe I can change into dry clothes and go to the movies, or to the library, or maybe even treat myself to a nice, non-chalk-tasting dinner.
As I open my browser, I suddenly remember that Orgo Weight Loss encourages its participants to go to the sauna regularly to “detoxify.” I don’t know exactly what that means, but sitting in a warm sauna does sound nice after getting drenched with cold rain. I type “sauna” into the browser and am surprised to find one less than a mile away: the Seventh Street Russian and Turkish Baths. I click around the website, marveling at the pictures. It looks beautiful and clean, and even has a nice, white-tablecloth restaurant on the ground floor. Even better, when I scroll to the bottom of the page, I see a coupon for 15% off a new customer’s first visit. Score!
Determined to do something nice for myself, I change into a t-shirt and yoga pants and throw my damp curls into a messy bun. As I walk out the door, I eye my forgotten salted caramel protein bar, then reluctantly throw it into my purse, just in case. Maybe this one won’t taste so bad.
Yeah, right, I think, and lock the door behind me.
2
Violet
“Hey, Violet!”
My roommate Kristy stops me at the entrance of our dorm and gives me a hug. We could be sisters, with our curvy builds and dark hair, although hers is wavier compared to my uncontrollable corkscrews. We met last year as freshmen and decided to room together this year. She’s my closest friend on campus.
“Hey, Kris,” I say. “What are you up to?”
“Just getting back from a yoga class,” she says. “There was a new instructor today that I really like, but she kicked my ass. You should come with me sometime!”
I wince, and Kristy laughs, probably expecting that response. Kristy is super into yoga but I fail to see the appeal. Slow, painful stretching? No thanks. I’m more of a Zumba kind of girl.
“Okay, okay,” she says. “I get it. I’ll still try and get you to come sometime, though.”
“Good luck with that,” I laugh.
“Where are you headed?”
I pull up my phone and show her the website for Seventh Street Russian and Turkish Baths. Kristy whistles. “That looks fancy,” she says.
“I know! I’m excited. I just want to relax a little though. I had a horrible phone call with my mom a few minutes ago,” I explain.
“Was it about your weight again?”
I roll my eyes.
“As always.”
Kristy makes a face. “Typical.” She looks at my phone again. “Hey, do you know that sometimes people have
sex in bath houses?”
My eyes widen. “What?! I’ve never heard that!”
“Oh, for sure,” Kristy says, grinning. “Keep an eye out for people banging in the shadows. It could be like a porn movie.”
“I highly doubt that will happen,” I retort. “This looks like a really nice place. I don’t think their patrons would do that.”
She shrugs. “I’m just saying it might spice up your visit a bit!”
I laugh and shoo her away. “Oh my god, you’re so bad. I’m leaving now. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Kristy waves and walks towards our dorm as I cautiously head outside. I have an umbrella this time, but thankfully, it looks like the rain has stopped. I step into the flow of people heading East and try to keep up. I still don’t walk quite as quickly as a typical New Yorker and have been reprimanded by a stranger more than once.
A few blocks later, I’m at the opulent front door of the bathhouse and realize I’ve passed this building so many times without taking any notice of it. I step inside and am immediately hit by the gentle aroma of lavender, which billows from a diffuser on the front desk. The carpet beneath my feet is plush and the walls are painted a calming blue. I already feel a little better.
“Welcome!” a chipper young woman behind the front desk says. “I’m Diana. Have you been here before?”
I shake my head and show her the coupon on my phone, which she accepts, quickly followed by my credit card. Apparently, the cost of admission includes access to all the baths, steam rooms, and saunas, and your first visit also includes a free appetizer in the restaurant. I’m more cheered than I should admit by the thought of free food. College will do that to you.