“I’m glad to hear that.” Justice nods, and I take that as my cue to get the hell out of his suddenly cramped office. He doesn’t stop me, but I feel that intense blue gaze on me even after I’ve disappeared from view.
I head straight to my room and have unscheduled sex with my husband. I even come. I just can’t tell who it was who owned my orgasm.
THE MIXER IS held in the ballroom after dinner. Most of the couples choose to dine together, laughing and bonding over succulent meats, buttery shellfish, and rich wine. We’ve taken our meals in our room since we’ve been here, but Tucker insists we go down and join the group. “How will we connect with these people if we don’t interact with them?” he says. “We don’t want to come across as unapproachable.”
He’s right, of course. He’s always right.
So I slip into a sexy, black Herve Leger number that hugs every inch of my slight curves, slide my pedicured feet into Valentino, and let my fine, white-blonde hair fall down my back in soft waves. When I step from the bathroom, my makeup on and expertly accessorized, Tucker nearly drops the glass of scotch at his lips.
“Wow. Baby, you look . . . wow.”
“Do I seem approachable?” I ask, doing a spin move so he can see the dress’s deep dip in the back. “Does this say, ‘Hi, we’re the DuCanes. And we’d like to get kinky with you’?”
He laughs at my jibe before coming to stand before me, close enough that I can feel him growing in his slacks. “You’re saying that and so much more, Bunny. But, seriously, don’t even think about it like that. We don’t have to invite anyone to jump into bed with us. There’s no rule that you can’t be completely monogamous while on the playground. I saw plenty of couples that only had sex with each other, and that’s completely fine for me.”
“But I thought . . . ?” Wait. So he doesn’t want to experiment? He doesn’t want to have sex with a . . . ?
“Let’s just see where tonight takes us. No rules, no plans. Let’s just see. Hell, we might just call it a night and end up here alone with some more of Riku’s key lime pie.”
I nod in agreement. Maybe that’s for the best. I can’t see myself wanting to explore with some random stranger. And I damn sure don’t want to watch Ransom doing the same. I don’t think I could take it.
Dinner is fabulous, as expected, and we end up sharing a table with a couple from Cleveland. They don’t tell us much about their lives back at home other than being part owners of the Cavaliers, which, of course, steers the conversation to basketball and whether or not LeBron will lead his team to victory. The guys chat stats while the wives chat about new movie releases and handbags. Just easy, casual conversation.
When a bell chimes, signaling that we should all reconvene in the ballroom, the husband, Frank, looks at Tucker and I and asks, “So . . . do you two swing?”
We look at each other. Look at them. Then back to each other.
Do we? Is that something that we’re in to?
I can see Tucker struggling for words—something diplomatic and PC. Me, being the public relations beast that I am, beat him to the punch.
“While that sounds lovely, Frank, I think we had something different in mind tonight. But you two have fun.”
“Well, that’s too bad. We were looking to get a little naughty with you both. See you in there.”
With an accepting nod and a smile, they turn toward the ballroom, leaving me with my still speechless husband.
“Wow.” He blinks out of his trance and reaches for the last of his scotch. “I didn’t . . . I thought they were just nice people. I mean, we were talking sports. Never once did I think he was interested in sleeping with you.”
“Or you.” I smile before leaning over to brush my lips over his jaw. “Come on, you handsome devil. Let’s go play in the lion’s den.”
The space has the feel of country club cocktail party meets underground sex club. The clientele is varied, ranging from their late twenties to their fifties, and now that I see them with their clothes on, they all seem so normal. No different from Tucker and me. No one seems outwardly inappropriate or overly sexual. And if Justice hadn’t entered, with a dozen beautiful, young singles at his flank, I wouldn’t believe that every one of these married couples is battling their own sexual deviances even if you paid me. But then again, within these walls, there is no such thing as a sexual deviance. Only freedom to express and love and feel. Freedom to be who they are, not society’s picture of the perfect pair.
No one here is perfect. And for some reason, that brings me a little comfort.
I notice that Ransom isn’t included in the roundup of guest stars, as Justice called them, and that also reassures me. Maybe Justice had a change of heart? Or maybe Ransom just wasn’t interested in hooking up with someone else? Either way, after a glass of bubbly, I find myself loosening and chatting with the other partygoers.
“Heidi! This must be Tucker,” Ally says as she approaches us, a beaming smile on her face. “About time we meet. I was starting to think our girl made you up.”
To his surprise, she knocks away his offered hand and hugs him like an old friend. I’m actually shocked to see her here, considering Justice makes it a point to keep her away from all of this. Not to keep her in the dark—complacent and oblivious to his dealings. But to protect her. With Ally’s background and growing up the crème de la crème of the Upper East Side, she may very well know some of Justice’s clients. And in order to avoid any awkwardness for all parties involved, she stays a good distance away. It’s not like she doesn’t know what his job entails. She was one of his star students, after all.
“So, Heidi, did you hear who was going to be here tonight?” she asks, turning her attention back to me.
I open my mouth to feign ignorance when I am instantly stunned into silence. Actually, the entire room falls from a jovial roar to a hushed quiet when Ransom enters it, wearing all black from head to toe, a crown full of sexily mussed hair and confidence like a damn war medal.
I think I hear her squeal something to the effect of, “OhmyGodheissofuckinghot” but I can’t be sure. I’m so completely disarmed by him that I can’t hear anything outside of the rapid pounding inside my chest. I don’t know if I should be seriously worried for my health or exhilarated by his mere presence.
He doesn’t see me at first. Or maybe he does and just won’t look at me. I can’t deny that things were left in an awkward space the other night when I ran from his room, embarrassed and aroused. We took things too far, and I’m afraid we’ll never be able to retreat from that.
I know I’m being watched, analyzed, so I take a sip of champagne and turn back to my husband. Ally gives me a quick peck on the cheek and focuses her energy on greeting all the couples, between stealing kisses from Justice when she thinks nobody is watching. And I try my damnedest to act like I’m ok with this. More than ok. I’m downright stoked about the prospect of having to watch my young lover/client fuck someone else while my husband and I get busy doing the same. It just seems like too much. Too much at one time. And I don’t think I’m ready for that.
Reading the panic in my expression, Tucker leans over and whispers in my ear, asking if I’m ok. I tell him yes. Then I tell him the truth.
“Tuck, I don’t know about this. Doesn’t it seem like we’re moving too fast too soon? It’s just . . . maybe we should talk about this before something happens that one of us isn’t prepared for. Something that could seriously affect our marriage and our feelings for each other.”
Translation: I need you to tell me if you want to sleep with a man, so when it happens, I’m not totally caught off guard. And I need to decide if I can be ok with that, and not see you differently.