Just Past Two (Comes in Threes)

by Elia Winters

  “The garage is a pussy move.” Jack shook his head. “Real men parallel park.”

  Deshawn raised his eyebrows. “Dude, I saw you park, and you are like three and a half feet from that curb. Don’t give me shit about the garage when you’re out here parking like my half-blind grandma.”

  Sam laughed, along with the rest of them, even Jack. He looked over the menu. “Mitchell, what’s good on tap right now?” There were perks to having friends who owned a brew pub.

  “They’ve got one of our seasonal ones, and they also have an IPA that Ben’s been really into.” Mitchell raised his rocks glass. “I have had it up to here with beer right now, so I am drinking whisky.”

  Sam ordered the seasonal beer, and conversation shifted to the holidays and what they’d done since they last grabbed a beer together, well before Christmas.

  “You spent New Year’s at Abby’s college reunion?” Deshawn shook his head. “Reunions are horrible. Do you know how much shit my classmates give me about being a nurse?”

  “Your classmates are assholes,” Mitchell responded before turning back to Sam. “How was the reunion?”

  “It was actually pretty fun. I got to meet some of her old college friends.” Sam hadn’t minded at all, even without the kinky shit at the end. That wasn’t something he was going to bring up here, though.

  “You mean her college boyfriends?” Jack grinned, drinking his beer.

  Sam had gotten his beer by then, so he knocked his glass gently against Jack’s like it was a toast. “We’ve been married almost seven years, guys. It’s not like her past makes much of a difference anymore.”

  Fat likelihood that was true, but these guys didn’t need to know the difference. Sam raised his chin to Mitchell. “What about you? You do anything fun over the holidays?”

  Mitchell smiled the small, tight-lipped smile he often gave that seemed as though he had more going on than he let on. He was an enigmatic guy, a tough nut to crack, as it were. “Visited some family before the holiday, and then we stayed local. Ben made me close the restaurant on Christmas and New Year’s Day, so I actually had some rest.”

  Ben. Ben ran the restaurant with Mitchell, shouldering the brewing half of their operation. His relationship with Mitchell, though, was a lot less clear. Sam had always just assumed they were partners, because they spent so much time together, but maybe they weren’t. It was difficult to know with Mitchell, and if he wasn’t telling, Sam wasn’t in a place to ask.

  Even if he was curious from time to time.

  By the time they got back to Jack, he was halfway done with his drink and had this mischievous, shit-eating grin on his face. “Listen. I know we don’t normally talk about this shit. But I have to tell you what Collette and I did over New Year’s.”

  Deshawn put his glass down. “I know that look. It’s something freaky, isn’t it?”

  Sam couldn’t help his own curiosity. Deshawn was right; they weren’t the type of guys to dish locker room talk at the bar, except maybe some innuendo and harmless jokes. Jack looked like he was gonna explode, though, actually vibrating with excitement.

  Jack didn’t wait any longer for them to guess. “We went to a sex club!” he shouted. Realizing his volume, he ducked his head and repeated it, more quietly. “We went to a sex club.”

  Mitchell put down his whisky. “Where is there a sex club in Mapleton?”

  “Not in Mapleton. In Boston. There’s this club, and it’s invite only. Really high-class. But Collette, she knows the owners through her last roommate. And she got us an invitation.”

  Sam shifted on his barstool. A sex club in Boston? He’d never been to one of those, never even knew what went on at one. Was that legal? So many questions started bubbling up, but the thought of asking them was embarrassing.

  Thoughts of Abby flashed into his mind, of her insinuating that he wasn’t the type of person to push his boundaries. Well, he could be that kind of person. He just had to tap into that part of himself. “I don’t know what happens at a sex club,” he managed to ask out loud. “Is it just group sex?”

  “Nah, not really.” Jack looked around again, but nobody was listening to them. “I mean, there’s some of that. The top floor is the ‘dungeon’”—he put it in air quotes—“where all the kinky shit goes on. The other floors are a little of everything. Some of it’s really chill, like a normal club, people out having a drink and chatting, but people fool around right there in the open. There’re rooms with two-way mirrors, and glory holes, and all the stuff that I seriously never thought existed outside of porn.” He shook his head. “Toys, sex swings, kinky stuff, you name it.”

  “Was it weird?” Deshawn asked. “Seeing people fucking all around you?”

  “Not as weird as I’d thought,” Jack said. “Mostly I had to get used to all the dicks.”

  “Were you nervous?” Sam asked. He’d be nervous, obviously, but Jack probably wouldn’t admit it.

  To his surprise, Jack laughed and nodded. “Hell yes. I almost chickened out, but I thought, what are my chances of ever getting to do something like this again? So I said yes.”

  “So this was her idea, not yours?” Deshawn asked.

  “Hers, definitely. No way I would have thought to ask her to do something like that. But she’s kind of a freak, and said it was always on her bucket list, so hell, why not?” Jack looked just delighted with himself, and his enthusiasm was contagious.

  “You think you’ll go back?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s a cool thing to do once, but I’m not sure if it’s really for me long-term.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, ducking his head nervously. “I’m not an exhibitionist kind of guy, and Collette just wanted to try it once, I think. I don’t think it was something she’d want to do again, either.”

  Out of the group, only Mitchell had been silent, thoughtfully contemplating the whole conversation. Deshawn nudged him. “Nothing to say over there, Mr. Silent?”

  Mitchell smiled. “I was just wondering if it’s something I might want to try in the future.”

  Well damn, that made Sam look at Mitchell again. The guy was so full of secrets, never letting out anything about his relationship.

  “If you’re interested, let me know,” Jack said. “Collette can get in touch with you. Her friend said any friend of ours is a friend of hers, or something like that. Anyway, invite’s open.”

  The idea was fully formed in Sam’s mind before he’d consciously thought about it, and he turned back to his beer with a new plan.

  By the time he got home that night, after finishing his beer and conversation with the guys, Abby was in the shower. Pottery was a messy endeavor, and on studio nights, she liked to take a long, hot shower to relax and clean up. He opened the door to the bathroom, steam rushing out past him and dissolving in the cooler air of the bedroom as he stepped inside.

  “That you?” Abby asked from behind the curtain.

  Sam smiled. “Nope. I’m a masked stranger, here to ravish you.”

  Abby peeked out at him. Her red hair was pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head to keep it dry, and without her makeup, she looked like she could be college-age again. She gave him a smile. “I don’t know. I’m so tired from all those other masked strangers, I might not have energy to service another one.” She ducked back behind the shower curtain.

  “Bummer. I’ll just have to take my first fantasy elsewhere, then.”

  Abby reemerged from behind the curtain, pulling it back enough that he could see the curve of one breast. “Your fantasy is a masked stranger fantasy?”

  “No. I’ve got something else.” He didn’t want to pitch it like this, though. “I’ll wait until you get out.”

  Abby pursed her lips, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Okay. I’ll hurry up.”

  “Take your time.” Sam waved her off and returned to the living room.

  She came out in record time, wearing pajama pants and a loose tank top, her hair now down from its bun. “All right,
” she said before she’d even come all the way into the room. “Let’s hear it. Your first fantasy.” She sat next to him on the couch, one leg folded up beneath her.

  He’d been rehearsing different ways to ask or say this, but direct seemed best. “There’s a sex club in Boston, and I want you to go with me.”

  Abby blinked. “A sex club?” She tipped her head to the side, uncertainty in her expression. “Like where people go and watch other people fuck? You know a place like that?”

  “Yes. Exactly like that.” He had already messaged Collette by way of Jack before driving home. “I know about one, and I can get us onto the guest list.”

  Abby was sitting upright, her body posture tense, and studied Sam like she just didn’t know what to make of him. “Do you want to fuck other people?”

  “What? No!” Where did she get that idea? “I want to watch other people with you. Maybe do a bit of fooling around of our own, if you’re up for that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

  Abby looked hesitant, and he hadn’t expected that.

  “You don’t have to say yes,” he said quickly. “If you’re not comfortable, we can call this whole thing off. Or I can share a different fantasy.”

  Abby shook her head. “No. I’m game.”

  “You ever been to a sex club before?”

  She gave a short laugh. “Definitely not.”

  “All right.” He pulled out his phone. “How’s next weekend?”

  …

  This definitely wasn’t what Abby had pictured when Sam had mentioned sex club. This wasn’t a nightclub, or a seedy-looking building with a bouncer out front, and there were no bright neon signs or anything to give away the purpose at all. But the address on Sam’s phone matched this nondescript brownstone building in front of them, right on the outskirts of Cambridge, not far from fucking Harvard itself.

  “This looks like somebody’s house.” She glanced around at all the other businesses on the block. “You sure we’re at the right place?”

  “Collette said we wouldn’t recognize it from the outside.” Sam put his phone in his pocket and took her hand. “Come on. Let’s go check it out.”

  Abby pulled her long coat more tightly around her and walked with him up the stairs. All week, she’d been waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. The Sam she knew would never have suggested they go to a sex club. She hadn’t even been sure he knew sex clubs actually existed; hell, she’d kind of thought they were legendary as well. Three possibilities existed: either he was into all these things and had been hiding his true self from her, he wasn’t into any of it but doing it to prove something to himself or to her, or maybe he wasn’t sure and was open to trying it out. The first option was unsettling, because it would mean she didn’t know him at all. The second option was frustrating, because it meant he was doing stuff he didn’t like for a stupid reason. The third option, though, was the most intriguing. If he was at least somewhat interested in what they were doing, then maybe Angela was right, and they had some “spice up” potential. Any minute, though, he was probably going to turn around and tell her he wasn’t up for this.

  A short, plump young woman waited right inside the front door, at a sort of hostess stand. She looked like she should be selling them a mortgage, all chipper attitude and business attire, with wide, friendly eyes that didn’t fit Abby’s mental image of “person who takes names at a sex club.”

  The host scanned through a list of names on her tablet and found them. “It says here you’re first-timers.” She smiled and set her tablet down. “Welcome. I’ll go over the ground rules with you before you go in, and they’re posted in several places in case you forget. First, watching is encouraged, but no touching unless you’re invited to do so. Any form of verbal or physical harassment will result in being removed from the club. We recommend fluid barriers and provide them in each room. Please clean up after yourselves. If you would like a break, this first room you’re going to enter is a designated sex-free lounge. Street-legal dress is required in the lounge, but other than that, beyond this door, clothing choices are up to you. The dungeon on the third floor has its own set of rules posted outside, so please familiarize yourself with those if you’d like to make use of that space. Do you have any questions?”

  Abby and Sam looked at each other and shrugged. That all seemed to be pretty much common sense.

  “All right, then, here’s a map of the space.” She handed them a photocopied map of the building layout, which someone had labeled by hand to indicate all the various rooms. She tapped a spot on the map. “Right past the lounge are changing rooms and places to store your things if you need them.” She flashed them a bright smile. “Have fun tonight!”

  The lounge just past the door was dimly lit, especially after the brightness of the foyer, and Abby stopped short as her eyes adjusted. The music was fairly quiet, too, soft jazz that blended with low sounds of conversation. A few couples were chatting quietly, wrapped in robes or wearing street clothes, one pair just cuddled together on a loveseat. They hung up their coats in the coat closet. Abby had gone with a little black dress for the night, simple and classy, but she’d second-guessed the decision a few times, considering fancy lingerie or something a bit slinkier than this simple cocktail dress. Now, she was happy to be wearing a full outfit. Already, her heart beat in her throat, tight with anticipation and uncertainty. She’d never done anything like this before, and Sam had been pretty vague about his interest.

  His hand on the small of her back grounded her. “You ready to go on? Or you want to stay in here for a while?”

  At the other end of the room, two changing room doors flanked a central door leading to, presumably, the rest of the club.

  “I didn’t come to a sex club to stay in the lounge.” Hopefully she sounded braver than she felt as she took his hand. “Come on.”

  Past that door, a pulsing bass beat drowned out the smooth jazz from the lounge. Here was the sight Abby had been expecting. One wall was resplendent with a full bar lit in blue, where a bartender mixed drinks for two completely naked women chatting with him. One section of the room was a dance floor, complete with poles, although no one was dancing. On the other side of the room, couches and love seats hosted numerous couples and small groups, mostly half or completely naked, all engrossed in their partners.

  Abby stopped short. The woman at the front had said that watching was encouraged, but no one there was watching. Everyone was…participating. This didn’t feel as sexy as it had at the reunion, when they’d been hiding and trying not to get caught. Her stomach fluttered with a wave of uncertainty, and Sam touched her back once more, just as he had done in the other room.

  “You want to get a drink?” he asked.

  The bartender greeted them with a warm smile and a nod. He was a handsome guy rocking a full beard and the hipster look, complete with suspenders and bow tie. “First time?” he said loud enough to be heard over the music.

  “Is it that obvious?” Abby climbed onto one of the stools near the naked women, who were still there in conversation with each other. Sam sat beside her.

  “A little.” The bartender smiled. “But don’t worry. It’s everybody’s first time at some point.” He extended a hand. “I’m Bill. I own the place.”

  They introduced themselves as Abby’s jitters settled into a low background hum instead of intense quaking. They ordered drinks, and finally, Abby let herself look around in more detail. She couldn’t hear much over the music, and maybe that was the point. People could lose themselves in here, in the patterned lights and the throbbing bass line.

  Bill passed them their drinks across the counter. “You know, if you want something a bit less noisy, keep heading down the hall. The next room might be more your speed. Feel free to take your drinks.”

  Sam paid and tipped, sliding close enough to put an arm around Abby’s waist. “Let’s go check it out,” he said.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, leaving them in a short hallwa
y, the music sounds faded down to just the pulsing bass. This hallway had two doors on each side, each bearing a sign. The first door on both sides was labeled “to be watched,” and the second, “to watch.” At the end of the hallway, a single unlabeled door led into the room beyond, and that’s where Abby headed.

  The quiet sounds of sex hit her ears before anything else. Something about that noise thrummed a chord inside her, lighting fireworks along her nerves even with no one touching her. This room was as large as the previous one, lit by dim lights and candles, with two king-sized beds and a handful of couches. Caught up in the events happening in front of her, Abby edged over to an empty couch and sat. She took one sip of her drink and set it aside, drawn instead to this scene.

  On the bed closest to her, a woman lay stretched out, naked, her long brown hair loose across the pillow. A man lay alongside her, his mouth on her breast, his other hand gently tweaking her other nipple, completely focused on her body. They weren’t alone, though; another man knelt between her legs, holding her thighs apart, working her over with his mouth.

  Sam sank down beside Abby, also staring at the scene in front of them. Their couch faced the side of the bed, where they could see everything. The woman had her head turned toward them, eyes closed but lips parted, and in the quiet of the room, each of her breaths was audible. Abby was breathing in rhythm with her before she realized it, shallow, soft breaths, like she was the one being pleasured. The man between her legs was taking his time, wet noises intimate and nearly obscene.

  Sam’s body pressed warm against Abby’s side, turning toward her, one hand moving to her thigh and burning her skin through the fabric of her dress. “You like watching?” he murmured, so low no one else could hear. “Like the other night on the porch?”

  Abby nodded, not wanting to make a sound and disturb everything. She was wet. She pressed her legs more tightly together, a tiny shiver of intensity racing through her groin.

  Sam draped an arm over her shoulder and began to idly brush his fingertips across her breast. Her nipple poked against the fabric of the dress, and his touch barely registered, tiny ticklish brushes sending shivers all through her body. She was already sensitive, and his too-light touch was making her even more sensitive. Maybe he knew. Pressed against her like this, he could probably feel her response, the way her breath quickened, nipple tightening into a sharp peak. And still, gentle, endlessly gentle brushes.