Foursomes and More…
Foursome and More...
    Brett checked his watch for the third time and frowned at his wife, who was finishing a second glass of wine. He glanced toward the entryway to the hotel bar, then back at Jen. “They’re late. Do you suppose someone got cold feet?”
    Jen winced. “Hope not, but Jason did seem very quiet and nervous during our last four-way phone conversation.”
    “Yeah. Crystal sounded much more eager than her husband.”
    “Even though they haven’t swung before, it sounds like Crystal was more sexually active than Jason before they married.”
    “You may have to boost his ego to make this work.”
    “If we have the chance.” Jen looked toward the entryway. “I’d say we have about a fifty percent chance of a no show.”
    “At least that doesn’t happen often, but once is too many.” Brett tilted his head and gave his wife a sly smile. “Guess you might be stuck with me for the night.”
    She shrugged. “Could do a lot worse. A two-room suite might be a bit much, though.”
    “We’ll have to try out both beds in order to get our money’s worth. By the way, I love your new haircut. Short and sassy.”
    “Do you like the new darker tints? Sort of blends in with my naturally red hair.”
    “Sexy. Dark and red. Bold. No wonder I’ll never tire of you. You keep changing before my eyes.”
    “You’d better not tire of me. Maybe you married more than one woman.” Jen slid a hand along his thigh. “You think you can keep me going half the night hopping from bed to bed if our new playmates don’t show?”
    “I know I can. I know we can.”
    Smiling broadly, Jen waved toward the couple entering the bar. “Looks like we may have to share those beds after all.”
    Brett peered at the tall black woman waving and smiling demurely as she picked her way through the crowded bar. Her equally tall blond husband looked like he might prefer watching the football game on the bar’s wide screen TV. “Maybe. We don’t have their clothes off yet. “
    “Shh,” Jen scolded. “They’re here. That’s over half the battle.”
    * * * *
    Thirty minutes later, after introductions and a drink order, Jen wasn’t so sure that half the battle had been won yet. Crystal, although engaging, hadn’t been all that forthcoming about who they were and why they were interested in swinging. For his part, Jason hadn’t added much information other than that he’d been a swimmer in high school and college and still swam laps daily, which at least explained why an IT geek appeared so fit and trim.
    Jen frowned at her husband, who also seemed somewhat stymied over the evening’s slow progression. Were Crystal and Jason really interested in playing, or was this some sort of dare between them to go out and meet some swingers? Or were they nervous because of the semi-public setting of the bar? Jen remembered when she and Brett first got involved in swinging and thought everyone around them must be listening in on their conversations. Jason repeatedly glanced around as if he might be recognized.
    Jen tried not to smile. She and Brett used to joke about wondering if others could fathom they were swingers—as if they wore the letter S on their foreheads. They’d long since discovered the real problem was the exact opposite. It was nearly impossible to pick out couples interested in swinging in a crowd. They’d often wished potential playmates would wear a badge, a ring, a bracelet or something that would tell those in the know that they swung, and whether they were bi or not.
    “So what do you think?” Jen said, taking the risk. Somebody had to do something to move this evening one way or another. “Would you like to go to the cafe for a bite to eat? Or we could take our drinks to the suite, where we can talk more privately.”
    Jason’s eyebrows shot up. Crystal frowned.
    “We want to assure both of you,” Jen added quickly, “nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen. We’re happy to

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