When Friday evening had come and gone, though, spirits were lower. Over those few weeks there’d been a definite drop in their sexual fervor, but it still sat well on the happy side of their old average. When they did wind up sitting on Dr. Petrillo’s couch again, the week after that, for the first time since they’d met Bruce and Paige, he’d noted their frequency increase, “Well above the national average for your age, income bracket, and relationship status.”
Surprisingly unruffled by the swinging decision, Petrillo seemed far more focused on the mantras, delighted they’d been using them. “I’m pleased to hear you chose this together,” he told them, then folded his hands. They stared back. “Would you consider it an improvement?”
“Well, yes,” said Jennifer.
Ryan felt that his own ambivalence was odd, so he didn’t disagree.
“Excellent,” Petrillo said, then waited.
The rest of the session had not strengthened Ryan’s faith in Petrillo to effect real change in their outlook and relationship. He’d nearly pointed out to the doctor that this whole change had nothing to do with his mantras or their earlier sessions, and everything to do with just being in the right place at the right time.
So tonight he wondered: Was this the right place? Was this the right time? As they climbed out of the car, they took each other’s hands.
“I love you,” said Jennifer.
“I love you, too,” returned Ryan.
They followed the well-shoveled path up to the house. As they drew near, the sounds of laughing and music, and deep in the background, some orgasmic moans, bled through the walls.
They’d most definitely found themselves out beyond the ropes now, into the deep end.
Sink or swim.
32
The front door swung open to reveal a foyer larger than their bedroom. Jennifer tried to keep her mouth from hanging open. The rounded walls of the room, leading to a double staircase upward, surrounded a table as big as their dining room table with a single floral display on it.
She wondered for a moment if the door had opened itself before seeing an attractive couple in their mid-fifties waiting to greet them.
As they opened their arms to Ryan and Jennifer, the woman said, “And you must be the Lamberts!” with warm enthusiasm.
“We brought…” Ryan began before restarting. “Um, yes. The Lamberts.” He pointed his finger at himself. “Ryan.” He pointed at her. “Jennifer.”
Well, that was classy, she thought.
“Welcome both of you,” said the man. His hair was white and close cropped, longer on the top, and he wore a short length of beard on his cheeks and chin. Broad-chested and thin-waisted, he clearly had not been slacking at the gym. His button down shirt revealed a poof of gray chest hair. “I’m Marty, and this vision you see next to me, Amanda.”
Amanda’s body had the toned but not overly muscular fitness of someone in her mid-thirties. A runner perhaps. She wore her slinky dress with panache and a healthy amount of cleavage on display. Her short hair coppery red, her smile very welcoming.
Jennifer felt at ease. The welcome alone had stopped the pounding in her chest.
“Can I take your coats?” asked Marty, offering his hands. He opened a curved door set into the wall, revealing a walk-in closet full of coats. Jennifer wouldn’t have been surprised to see a coat check girl in there.
“Now that the coats are out of the way—” began Amanda.
“Oh! We brought…” Ryan held out the bottle to her. It had cost more than they’d ever spent on a bottle of wine for an event. They were perhaps a bit desperate to make an impression.
Marty took it from him. “Ah, the Hitching Post! Have you been?”
He stammered.
“We try to get there every couple of years; that region produces simply glorious wine. I find I vastly prefer domestic because of the middle of California.” Marty grinned broadly. “And Washington, of course.”
“Are you huggers?” asked Amanda.
Upon nodding, Jennifer received a warm hug from Amanda. Hands on her back, holding tight. Then one from Marty.
She saw Ryan receive a hug and handshake.
“Your RSVP said that this is your first party?” asked Amanda.
“Yes,” said Jennifer.
“Don’t be afraid.”
“We’re not,” grinned Ryan.
“Good,” said Marty. He held up the Hitching Post Pinot. “I’m going to put the wine where it can mingle with its brethren, and Amanda can give you the tour. I assure you that you’re in excellent hands.”
“Thanks.”
“Shall we?” asked Amanda, as Marty disappeared between the two staircases.
Jennifer nodded.
The tour began walking down a hallway with walls full of pictures. Children, grandchildren. Jennifer felt immediately more comfortable that these were happy family people, though she didn’t know why it mattered to her. Would someone have the opposite reaction should they notice that she and Ryan had no children?
“Our number one rule here,” Amanda said as she walked them into a space Jennifer was sure would be called the great room, “and at all of our parties, is that no always means no. I mean, it sounds silly, but they’re words to live by and bear repeating over and over again.”
She reached out and touched Jennifer’s arm. “Nobody does anything here to which they don’t give enthusiastic consent.”
Jennifer nodded. She took in the expansive room. A wall of windows looked out into the forest behind the house. Several of the closer trees glowed with white twinkle lights. The room held two separate seating areas, one in an elongated U around the massive stone fireplace, and the other recessed into the ground, full of a sectional couch that looked like it had expanded well beyond anyone’s expectations. Both seating areas were full, with perhaps thirty people in the room. Many lounged on the enormous sectional in what Jennifer’s mother would’ve called a conversation pit. Some stood around the fireplace. Couples here, clusters of three and four there. A number of people stood near a grand piano by the windows. A pair of women sat at the piano, their duet involving tongues and fingers.
It appeared to be the kind of fancy cocktail party one might see at a fundraiser for a well-appointed charity, but a closer look would quickly reveal something here was different. Hands were on knees and laps, breasts were fondled through dresses, and there was far more extensive kissing than one would ever expect to see in so-called polite society.
“No, thank you also means no, by the way.” Amanda winked and waved them back toward the hallway. In the doorway, a plaster pillar stood about waist tall. Atop it was a cherry wood tea serving box. “I wish I could take credit for this idea, but my girlfriend Stephanie suggested it.” Amanda gestured at the box. “The tea boxes, which you’ll find all around the house, contain the condoms. These boxes are everywhere, and you should never be far from one!”
“Good to know,” said Ryan.
As they passed the box and moved further down the hall, she looked back over her shoulder. “Protection is essential. We fully believe in safer sex at these parties. After all, we aren’t savages.” She winked at Ryan. “For the most part. And it’s called safer sex,” she emphasized, “because we know that truly safe is unattainable. We must all do our best.”
She pointed to the end of the hall. “We have our sauna, the guest bath, and guest bedroom down there. That bath has a Jacuzzi tub. But if you’re a bubbly water fan, and I know I am, I recommend the hot tub on the patio. Seats eight vanillas. We’ve had sixteen in there.” She laughed. “Nearly emptied the tub!”