Fisher of Men

by Phoebe Alexander

  At least I'll be able to tell her with a clear conscience that I went today, Leah sighed as she saw the Worship Team take their places on the stage. She glanced at the program and noticed that the sermon was covering the passage about the Woman at the Well in the book of John. Oh, great. Just want I need to hear is a lecture about how this slutty woman repents and follows Jesus. My dad always said that God will put the right message in your ears just when you need to hear it.

  She had spent a great deal of time the night before discussing the impending New Year's Eve house party with Cap. He'd smiled at her questions, did his best not to patronize, and tried to answer frankly. “Look, a house party is just like any party you went to in college. You know, people drinking and flirting and getting it on. It's just that these people are a little older, probably won't get as tanked and aren't likely to regret anything in the morning,” was the way he'd characterized swinger parties.

  “Does everyone participate? How many people will be there?” she'd asked. She felt like she was interviewing him for a position at The Pearl: trying to be objective, looking for all the pros and cons the prospective employee offered.

  “No, not everyone plays. It's fine if you don't. Sometimes people are just there for the socializing, and that's cool. No one is going to pressure you, especially since I'll be there to step in if there's any hint of trouble or pushiness. Not sure how many people John and Monica are expecting for this party but there were probably about thirty at their last one,” he said.

  “Are there rules? Etiquette? Things I need to know so I don't embarrass myself?” She was still envisioning walking through a room of writhing bodies piled up on the floor. “Do people just get it on out in the open? Is it like an orgy?”

  Cap put his arm around her and tried to keep his poker face, “No, no only the best parties turn into orgies!” Then he erupted in laughter at how wide her eyes grew. “Darlin', it's not like that, seriously.” She was exasperated by his teasing her when she was trying to be thoughtful and deliberate in her decision making.

  He cleared his throat and the playful, dimpled smile vanished. “Most vanilla people who walked into a swinger party wouldn't even know that's what's going on. You won't usually see a lot of stuff other than kissing or making out happening in the public areas of the house. Most of the time people go back to the bedrooms to play.”

  “You keep saying 'play.' And you said 'vanilla people.' I don't know what all that means! 'Playing' makes it sound like it's a sport or something,” she complained, still trying to wrap her head around all of the new vocabulary.

  She was surprised that now that his prior teasing was finished, he was able to be so patient. She was grateful for it, though. He seemed happy to impart his years of swinger knowledge. “Yeah, we call sex with others in the lifestyle 'playing.' If two couples get together and sex is on the agenda, they might call it a 'playdate.' And 'vanilla' is someone who isn't part of the lifestyle. Like you, right now.”

  “Ah, okay. So what about the rules?” It was starting to slowly crystallize.

  “Basic party rules are just to use common sense, courtesy and respect. If a door is closed, don't enter. If a door is open, you can watch but ask before trying to participate. I don't exactly see you jumping into a pile or offending anyone anyway. We try to clean up after ourselves, you know, respect the hosts. Pick up condoms and put down plastic or towels if you're a squirter.”

  “I'm sorry, what?!” Leah's eyes had returned to maximum shock size. Just when I thought this stuff was starting to make sense! she lamented.

  “Um, squirter?” Cap repeated. “Female ejaculation?” He watched Leah's head vigorously shake back and forth, revealing they were venturing into quite unfamiliar territory.

  “I thought that was a myth?” Her head was spinning. Maybe I'm not ready for this after all, she thought, wondering where her objectiveness from moments ago had run off to.

  He raked through her strawberry blonde waves with his fingertips, enjoying the feeling of the silky strands against his rough skin. “I've seen it. Trust me, it's no myth.”

  “Alright, so what else do I need to know?” She wanted him to just give it to her: the good, the bad, the ugly. So I can make an informed decision, she thought. Or at least semi-informed.

  He scratched his head as if trying to stimulate his brain to remember everything he should tell her. “Oh, well, every couple has their own rules. Soft swap, full swap, same room, separate rooms, kissing or no kissing, bi stuff or no bi stuff...you know, whatever floats their boats,” he rattled off.

  “Um, I pretty much didn't understand one word of that. Slow down and try it again, please?” Leah asked, resisting the temptation to become frustrated.

  “Soft swap means fooling around but intercourse only with your partner, full swap means intercourse – 'swapping partners' – is on the table. Same room means the couple plays only in the same room with each other; separate rooms means they are able to play in different rooms. Some couples will kiss other people; some reserve that just for each other. And bi stuff? Well, most of the women are bi to some degree. Bi males are kinda frowned upon. It's a double standard but that's just the way it is,” he explained.

  Bi stuff? she repeated in her own mind. Bisexual stuff? She hadn't even considered that would be part of the equation. The scene she'd viewed at Casey's Christmas party didn't include much interaction between the two women. She had honestly never thought of a woman sexually. I don't think I'm ready for that, she decided immediately.

  I can't believe I'm thinking about all this in church, she suddenly thought, jolting herself back into the present and looking around. She wondered if her expressions gave anyone seated around her even a vague inkling of what was running through her mind. The Worship Team had started the first song, a contemporary up-tempo piece, and the congregation was standing, clapping to the beat. The drummer was going crazy, wildly thrashing his head as he fervently banged his sticks on the snares and cymbals and stomped his foot on the bass pedal.

  She thought about how crazy this worship service might seem to a non-believer if they were to walk into the sanctuary and witness it. Not unlike a vanilla person stepping into a swinger party for the first time, I suppose. It's all in what you know; what you're used to, right?

  Leah had not admitted to Aimee that she was going through with attending the party. For two days, she'd kept her conversations with her best friend focused on the baby and how crazy Aimee's mom and sisters were driving her. Thus, she didn't feel like she could call Aimee at 7 PM on New Year's Eve to beg for advice about what to wear to her first swinger party. What was it Cap told me? she struggled to remember. He said to wear something sexy but comfortable. I don't even know if I own something conventionally sexy. And I sure as heck don't think I'm going to be comfortable no matter what I wear. She tossed a pile of clothes onto her bed and started sorting through them, throwing rejects back into her closet.

  Cap had given her a great deal of advice, not only about swinger party fashion, but also about how to interact with men in the lifestyle: be flirtatious, be yourself, be honest, be adventurous, don't judge a book by its cover. Keep an open mind. Don't be afraid to say no if you're not feeling it. He said that men would like me, that they'd think I was really hot. He kept reassuring me that I was desirable. Who would've ever thought I'd be listening to advice about how to get a man to fuck me from a man I'm already fucking?

  Leah had finally settled on a silver sequined tank top and a slinky black velour skirt when she remembered that she had tall black leather boots that she'd worn exactly once the prior winter because she didn't feel they were really “her.” They had shiny silver buckles up the side and came to just above her knees with a thick three inch heel. Maybe they weren't “me” last winter but this winter they are? It's completely crazy, she decided but slipped her feet into them up nonetheless. She threw a black cardigan over the tank top and zipped up the boots.

  She stepped in front of the mirror and put her hands
on her hips, jutting one out so she could exaggerate the feminine curve of her torso as it gently sloped into her thighs. So, this is what swinger chicks do, huh? Dress to impress. Bait their hooks to lure the men in? she smirked. And women too, I suppose, for the bi girls. But I'm sure that brings the guys in too.

  Cap was due to pick her up in fifteen minutes. Better take Glory out one more time before I leave, she decided. Cap had encouraged her to leave Glory at his house with Keeper indefinitely since she had been working so much, but she was leery of making such a leap. It's one thing to stash a toothbrush at the apartment of the man you're dating, quite another to keep your dog there, she determined. And is that right? Is that how we'd characterize our relationship? Dating? She shrugged at herself, still looking at her reflection in the mirror. I guess so.

  She watched the reverse-image Leah shrug back at her. Except I can't think of any other dating relationship where you go trolling for other partners on a...what is this...fifth date?

  She heard his truck rumbling into the parking lot before she saw it. She threw a kiss to Glory who was occupied with a new bone in her crate, locked the door and headed down to Cap. “I trust you look stunning under that long coat,” he said as she hoisted her leg into the cab of his truck and then pulled her body into the seat.

  “I look something,” Leah sighed, straightening her skirt under her wool coat. Even when she pulled it down, it remained several inches above her knees.

  Cap stopped the truck with a jolt in the middle of the parking lot, fifteen yards or so from the exit. “Tell me now if you don't want to go. We'll go back to my place, open a bottle of wine and ring in the new year, just the two of us,” he suggested, with no trace of bitterness.

  “I know how much you are looking forward to this,” Leah replied, looking down at her boots and the way the silver buckles gleamed in the ambient lighting from the street lamps.

  “I am looking forward to it,” Cap agreed. “I have a sexy date I can show off to my friends. What man wouldn't look forward to that?” He paused to see the corner of her lip curl up in response to his compliment. “And I know you would really have fun, if you just keep an open mind and get to know some of these people. I think you'd enjoy yourself.”

  “But?” Leah pressed, her lips returning to their formerly neutral position.

  “But I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret. And I don't want you to go just to make me happy.” He tossed the ball back into her court.

  “As long as you promise you won't leave me alone and I won't be pressured into anything, then I want to go,” she said decisively.

  “Oh, of course! That's a given,” he winked at her.

  “I have to admit I'm dying of curiosity...to see how people interact and react to me... Oh, one thing...this isn't going to cause me any problems at work, right? It won't get back to my boss? I mean, he's cool and all but it's just none of his business, you know?” she asked. She'd been meaning to broach that subject with him, but she kept her work and private lives so compartmentalized, when she was in Cap Mode, her mind wasn't anywhere near Work Mode.

  “It's the Swinger Code,” Cap promised. “We all want discretion; it's expected. If you were from around here and knew as many people as I do, you'd probably be surprised at some of the folks you run into at lifestyle meet and greets, parties and clubs. There's actually some pretty powerful people...well, Casey Fontaine for instance.”

  “I know she's a realtor but...there's something else about her?” Leah questioned, her curiosity even further piqued.

  “Her dad was a U.S. Congressman. Oh, he's retired from politics now but still serves on all sorts of boards and is in DC hobnobbing with famous types all the time. Everyone in the state knows who Casey Fontaine's dad is. But only a select few know that she swings or she's bisexual. By the way, you didn't hear that from me, if you know what I mean!” he winked again.

  “Wow, I had no idea!” Leah considered that if Casey could work in a field like real estate where her reputation was literally her lifeblood, she had much more at stake than Leah. “Okay, okay. You know I trust you, right?”

  “It makes me happy to hear you say that,” Cap said, reaching for her hand. He squeezed his thick fingers around hers and shifted his truck back into drive.

  Fifteen minutes later, Leah heard the heels of her black boots clicking against the brick path leading up to a town home on the bayside in North Ocean City, just south of the line separating Maryland from Delaware. She felt Cap's fingertips pressing against the small of her back as he guided her from the rear. Like he's steering a boat, she mused, trying to distract herself from the butterflies that were dancing in her stomach. Yeah, forget flitting about aimlessly and causing mild anxiety; they're having the freaking Olympic Opening Ceremonies in there.

  Before she could knock or ring the doorbell, a woman at the door pushed the glass storm door open and ushered them inside while she simultaneously shouting back into the kitchen to maintain whatever conversation she was having as they approached. “Well, Captain Chris Sheldon, it's been damn near forever since I saw you!” she gushed as soon as they were inside.

  “You didn't see me at the Christmas party?” he asked and she shook her head, still smiling. He gestured toward Leah. “Oh, Monica, this is my date, Leah. She's new to all this, so be gentle!”

  The hostess was in her mid-fifties with short dark hair that had frosty highlights interspersed among the spiky layers. She wore a purple halter-top A-line dress with fishnet stockings and black boots that didn't look too terribly different than the ones that Leah wore. She also remembered seeing a plethora of knee and thigh-high black boots at the first event Casey had organized at The Pearl. Must be a swinger thing, Leah decided. Guess I fit right in, then.

  Cap led her into the kitchen where he wasted no time in mixing them both a drink. “Guess this is a turn of events, huh?” Leah smirked. “When we first met, I was the one mixing the drinks.”

  “Good point. I think I make a better bartender, though!” he laughed. She fake-punched him on the triceps right about the same time that Rhonda slinked up to the kitchen counter. Leah watched her put her arm around Cap and squeeze his posterior while whispering something in his ear. He grinned, dimples exposed, but said nothing.

  “Not working tonight?” Rhonda said to Leah through her fake-looking grin. She appeared as though she had been spending a lot of time in the tanning booth recently; her skin was darker and her hair was lighter. And she wore a silvery iridescent gloss on her lips. It seemed as though Leah was looking at a negative image of her instead of a positive.

  “Nope, every once in a while, I'm allowed out to play!” Leah exclaimed, trying her best to appear relaxed and exude confidence, per Cap's advice, even though there was something about Rhonda that made her claws want to come out. But she was quickly distracted from Rhonda when she noticed there was a youngish looking man, maybe in his early or mid-thirties, staring at her from across the kitchen. He wore his thick, reddish brown hair in a conservative cut and his deep brown eyes were covered by trendy black-rimmed glasses. He looks like a teacher. Or accountant. Something like that, she decided. Definitely not like someone you'd expect to run into at a swinger party.

  A thought washed over her that was so ironic that she nearly spit out the delicious, not to mention strong, cocktail that Cap had concocted for her. What if I actually meet the man of my dreams at a swinger party?

  The Teacher/Accountant slowly made his way through the crowd toward her. Cap had noticed at this point and stepped in his path before he reached Leah. “Hey, Jeremy, what's new, brother?! Haven't seen you in ages!”

  “I've been so god-damned busy this year I haven't gotten out much. I was coaching girls’ volleyball this spring and I swear I didn't know if I was coming or going most days. This is a well-deserved reward for all my hard work!” Oh, definitely Teacher, Leah surmised, patting herself on the back for her superior observation skills.

  “I'll
drink to that!” Cap said, raising his glass. “Oh, Jeremy, I noticed you had your eyes on my date. This is Leah, and she's new to all this so be gentle, got it?”

  “Oh, I don't bite,” Jeremy promised. “Not too hard, anyway!” The two men laughed again and on that note, they both took another swig of their drinks.

  “It's nice to meet you, Jeremy,” Leah extended her hand politely. But he ignored her offering and moved in close enough to plant a soft, wet kiss directly on her lips. She grabbed the kitchen counter to steady herself in her high-heeled boots as a shock of electricity bolted through her. She doubted she had ever shared a first kiss while so many people watched. So this is how we're supposed to greet new people, she thought. Cap definitely neglected to share that little tidbit with me!

  She remembered the November party at which she'd bartended for Casey's Group and the ubiquitous kissing, groping and flirting were definitely on the list of things she noticed as being unusual. That party was semi-public, whereas this one was private. It did not surprise her that all of those behaviors were ramped up although she didn't see anyone openly performing sex acts.

  She looked out from the kitchen toward the living room and found a woman sitting on the sofa with her breasts exposed, pulled out of the top of her shirt and resting on her bra, squeezed together into two huge mounds. Two women flanked her, bending over her to each take a nipple into their mouths. Leah watched their tongues encircling the aureole, flicking the hardening nipples and then closing their lips around them. The woman in the middle rested her head back against the sofa cushions, her eyes closed and mouth gaping open as she sighed with pleasure, her fists beginning to clench and cheeks and chest flushing with arousal.

  Several drinks later, Leah was feeling giddy, free, and unencumbered by inhibitions. Cap had introduced her to so many people throughout the course of the night that she had started playing a “drinking game” in which she took a shot when she met someone new and then recited the names of everyone she had met thus far. The party guests were wildly amused. “Your girlfriend is a lot of fun,” one of the women, Tricia, told Cap. “Not to mention really cute. You've done well, Cap!”