Every Other Weekend

by Tia Winston

  Every Other Weekend

  Tia Winston

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2012 by Tia Winston

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  Chapter 1

  Every other Friday at 5:32pm, a slut was released into the streets of Pasadena, CA. Okay, maybe more like from the back of my closet where I keep my monkey rocker hidden under a pink striped ottoman, because God forbid the proper mother of three and ex-wife of the city’s next councilman should have her own fuck machine.

  It was the façade that led to our divorce. Pretending to be his perfect wife became impossible as the years of sexual neglect racked up. Every diner party resulted in my fantasizing about having a gang bang with his colleagues, or sucking off the young waiter in the coat closet. Now that I was single I intended to live out every one of those fantasies – that is, if I could ever get up the nerve to leave my house.

  I was especially amped this evening after bumping into my children’s principal, Mr. Mason (Please fuck me till it hurts) Zackary. He wasn’t model gorgeous or Fabio like, just a tall handsome man with dark hair and a killer smile. The thing that made me melt around him was his smooth radio voice and hands that I wanted all over me. I only saw him a couple of times a week, but each time we met I discovered something new about him. The standing room only in our PTA meetings meant that I wasn’t the only mom who noticed him.

  No one was clutching their pearls in shock at how shamelessly the married women flirted with him. He was sure to be the subject of many of their fuck fantasies while they rode their husbands later that night. Unfortunately, I didn’t have anyone to take my frustrations out on. Tommy, my ex, made it clear that he’d always be “available”, if I ever needed him, and I admit that I’d called on him more than a few times in the nine months we’d been divorced. But these ‘meetings’ were always followed by his pleas to come home, and I didn’t want to give him false hope. I’d been his wife for more than ten years. It was a life too lonely and deprived to ever willingly go back to.

  No, I was going to have to expel my energy elsewhere. But the thought of being with someone else, as horny as I was, was terrifying. What if I met some psycho or pervert? Would I tell them my real name? What if they knew Tommy or word got around my kid’s school that their mother was a closeted freak? The thought of a casual fuck carried the weight of my entire world and I’d eventually dropped the idea completely.

  It’d been four months and I’d worn out two massagers and killed at least a dozen vibrators. I thought my monkey rocker would provide me some relief, especially with the cyber skin cock I bought to go with it. Sure, it rammed deep and fast, but there was so much more to sex than cock. I missed the weight of a man on top of me, the feel of my thighs pressed into his oblique’s as I rode his cock to a glorious ending. I missed that firm grip of my ass cheeks and his morning stubble tickling my face.

  After thirty minutes of pounding that lackluster dildo into my cervix, I wasn’t anywhere close to a happy ending. There wasn’t a toy on the market that could fill what I really needed –a man. I rushed downstairs to my junk drawer, where I remembered tossing a card for a divorcee support group that my sister, Linda, wouldn’t stop hounding me about. She thought it would be a good idea to have a group of women to hang out with when the kids were with Tommy. The name of the group, Every Other Weekend, was crafty. I’d never thought of myself as a loner, but divorcing Tommy meant that I’d also divorced our friends. None of the other wives talked to me other than to invite my kids to their socials.

  ‘I was hoping Emma could make it to Taylor’s tea party.’ They were always so clever in their wording so that I’d know the invitation only extended to my children, which was perfectly fine with me. Ten years of snooty, gossiping, fake-boobed housewives was more than enough for one lifetime.

  “Bingo,” I said as I finally found the card in the drawer and read the back. “Never sit at home alone when the kids are gone, come hang out with us.” They sounded more like a social club than a support group, which actually sounded more up my alley.

  I grabbed my cell phone when I noticed the area code was 818. These people were in the valley. We were talking a thirty minute drive, maybe more if the freeway was still backed up. But the thought occurred to me that no one would know me there.

  Perhaps this was the best idea I’d had in months.

  Chapter 2

  The number was a recorded line that gave an address of where the group would be tonight. I had more than a couple panic attacks over what to wear, and I eventually settled on a modest LBD that gave my hips a nice hug. I pulled my auburn streaked hair up into a high ponytail and let the loosely curled ends rest at the nape of my neck. I liked my grey eyes better with the cat-like slant it gave me. My good looks were one thing I always took pride in, especially after having three children.

  Keeping everything tight was my life’s mission. I guess part of me knew that one day I’d be single again and had to keep my package in pristine condition. I was afraid enough about dating in my late thirties. Young girls never seemed as much of a threat as they did to me now. I bet Principal Zackary had his pick of twenty-something girls, which was why he never noticed any of us moms.

  Just thinking about him caused my clit to twitch. “Stop it, Quinn,” I whispered to myself as I turned off Ventura Boulevard and into a restaurant parking lot. What divorcee group would meet up at a restaurant on the national ‘Date Night’? These people needed some serious help with their event planning. My marketing degree always left me analyzing public perception and market appeal. I’d practically built Tommy’s image and campaign for city council the moment that he told me he had an interest in politics.

  The restaurant looked nice enough. I’d driven all this way, the least I could was check it out. I reapplied the lip gloss I’d gnawed off sitting in traffic and checked my teeth for smudges before I finally exited my SUV.

  I was weighing my drink options against my lengthy drive home when a gentleman, roughly two thirds the size of the door came out wearing all black and holding a clip board. “Good Evening,” he said in a very formal tone.

  “Hi,” I replied expecting for him to open the door or at least move out of my way, but he just stood there looking me up and down.

  “Are you here for tonight’s event?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m just here to meet up with some…people.” It wasn’t like I could say friends, I’d never even met these women.

  “Did you come alone?”

  “Yes, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Was he seriously giving me the third degree to get into a restaurant? “Is there a private party going on here or something?”

  It would be just my luck that this poorly organized group would pick a location that was closed on the night I decided to drive out.

  “Sorry, it’s club rules that I ask. Is this your first time?”

  “At a restaurant? No. And what club are you talking about?”

  “Every other weekend.”

  I was stunned. This group was big enough to shut down an entire restaurant on a Friday night. Impressive. “Yes, that’s the group I’m here to meet.”

  “All right, I’ll just need you to sign this release and I’ll need to see your driver’s license,” the man said as he handed me the clip board and a pin.

  “What is this for?”

  “Privacy, yours and our other me
mbers.”

  “Privacy?” What kind of group was this that involved paper work? I was starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Where the hell did my sister even find them? “I think I may have the wrong group,” I said handing him back the clipboard.

  “Look, you need to sign this to get in and I’m sure our other members would appreciate it if you’d stop holding up the line.”

  I looked behind me, “Am I missing something? There’s no one else here.”

  “Their waiting in their cars, and you cut in front of them, so please make a decision and quick.”

  I scanned the parking lot again and sure enough, I saw at least five women sitting in their cars with the engines off.

  “So are you coming in or not?”

  I knew what I was supposed to do, which was get in my car and leave, but I was curious to know what they were really about, so I signed the release and showed him my driver’s license.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, staring at my form.

  “Quinn.”

  “No, what is your name?” he asked looking up at me with a smirk.

  “Oh, um…Linda.” I felt like such an idiot, of all the names I blurt out, I had to use my sister’s.

  “Welcome, Linda,” he said before finally opening the door and removed something black from his pocket. “Enjoy.”

  He tucked a lace mask discreetly into my hand before closing the door behind him. I was left in a small foyer, in the total dark. My knees were shaking, my mouth watering, and I could hear my heart racing in my ears.

  I was honestly more excited than nervous as I put on the mask. Wearing it made me feel dirty and mysterious, like I’d stepped into one of my own fantasies.

  A narrow path illuminated on the floor. I took a deep breath before following it. I was absolutely out of my mind for doing this. What if these people abducted me and threw me into the back of a creeper van? Then again I did just sign a very lengthy and professionally worded release, so perhaps this wasn’t the creeper van crowd. The group obviously had money, given their swanky meeting place.

  The path ended at a large door covered in jewels and trimmed in what had to be brass that looked like gold. I didn’t know if I should knock or wait to be greeted, but a second later it swung open and I was hit with the sounds of a roaring party. Music, voices, and laughter. None of which I’d heard coming down the hall.

  “Welcome,” a man dressed in a butler’s suit said as held out his hand. Was he really looking for a tip?

  I opened my clutch and pulled out a dollar.

  “No, Miss. Your cell phone please.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I said handing over the phone.

  Wow, these people were thorough. The butler handed me a ticket for my phone and directed me towards the bar. I’d abandoned my earlier idea of a single white wine about the moment I put ink to the waiver.

  “Long Island iced tea,” I said to the bartender.

  “First time?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Relax, a beauty like you’s guaranteed a goodtime.”

  I took a quick scan of the crowd and noticed I was the only one wearing a mask. The group was pretty mixed in the looks department. The women’s dresses were cut low and rode high, while the men all wore black slacks and black collar shirts. The place was packed, except for the two empty seats beside mine.

  I turned back to the bartender just as he was topping off my drink with a cherry.

  “I made it a little light, incase you’ll need another,” he said.

  “Thank you. How much do I owe you?”

  “Newbie’s drink free. They often need a little courage.”

  “How could you tell I was new?”

  “For one, you’re wearing the mask. And two, I would certainly remember seeing you.”

  “That’s very sweet of you,” I said, handing him five dollars.

  “I can’t accept your money,” he replied, sliding it back to me as he leaned in. “But I’d love take you upstairs later, if you don’t see anything else you like tonight.”

  He was gone by the time my brain could communicate the gasp to my lips. I never felt so sexy in my life and, oh, how it felt good. I sucked down my drink, feeling like there were a dozen eyes on my back. The bartender sat another in front of me on his way back to the storage room. It was probably a good thing he didn’t proposition me again, I was way too horny to be hit on by someone so young and hot. I sucked down the second glass and was sloppily trying to retrieve the cherry from the bottom when I felt someone touch my shoulder.

  “Good Evening,” a man’s voice from behind me interrupted my wicked daydream of sucking the bartender’s cock as he pored drinks for the crowd.

  I slowly turned to face him, only not on purpose. The drinks were really starting to kick in. Apparently they were also causing hallucinations as well, because the man behind me looked exactly like Principal Mason Zackary.

  Chapter 3

  I wish I could say my reaction was mild or unnoticeable, but it was the furthest thing from it. I’m fairly certain I let out some god awful squeak just before my glass went tumbling off my bar stool, me with it. I also wish I could say that he caught me in the heroic romantic comedy way where my face press into his chest and his arm close in on my waist. His hands did end up around my waist, only I was upside down.

  “Hands down the best introduction ever,” he said and I could distinctly feel his breath on my exposed ass cheeks.

  “Please just let me fall,” I begged as I realize the fabric blocking my view was the hem of dress.

  I’d just flashed the entire restaurant and revealed my soaked thong to my children’s principal.

  He held me firmly with one hand and gripped back of my neck with the other, lifting me up until I was sitting on his bended knee.

  “There, right side up again.”

  And probably red faced too, I was so embarrassed.

  “Another long island,” he called to the bartender as I covered my face with both hands.

  “Please, I just wanna go home.”

  I tried to stand, but dropped right back onto his knee.

  “How many of those have you had?”

  “Two. I’ll be fine—once the room stops spinning.”

  “I think you need to lay down for a bit,” he said, throwing me over his shoulder.

  An upside down glance of the crowd didn’t look like anyone even noticed my mortifying blunder.

  Mason had my clutch in his hand as he carried me up a flight of stairs.

  “She conscious?” A man asked.

  “Yes,” I shouted.

  “Do you consent miss?”

  “To what?”

  “I’m just taking her to lay down a bit, she’s pretty wasted,” Mason whispered.

  “I am not!”

  “I still need her consent before I can let you two go.”

  “Okay, fine,” I said as my stomach flopped.

  Maybe downing those drinks on an empty stomach wasn’t such a good idea.

  “You two enjoy,” the man said.

  Mason continued up the stairs and I finally got a look at the tall man, also dressed in all black. He winked at me as we finally reached the top.

  “Good Evening,” a woman said as we entered a small room. “Is there anything I could get for you?”

  “Some bread and coffee for her. And I’ll have couple of beers,” Mason said as he sat me down on the bed.

  There was no denying that I was wasted when I couldn’t even sit up. I fell back onto the softest pillows with only one eye fully open.

  “You sure that was just two drinks?” he asked as he removed his coat and hung it on a hook attached to the outside of the door. “I can leave this open if you’d feel more comfortable.”

  “You can close it, if you want.”

  And he did.

  Was I really alone in a bedroom with Principal Zackary, or had the bartender slipped me something? It had to be the latter. There was no way this could
be happening. Mason sat beside me and reached for my mask.

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Yes!” I shouted covering my eyes. It was the only thing separating my real life from this fantasy and I wasn’t ready to combine the two.

  “All right, well at least let me introduce myself, I’m Sam.” He extended his hand, and I blanked on my own name.

  “I’m…Linda.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah…you too.”

  “So what brings you here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing?” I didn’t know he was divorced. A man as handsome and kind as him would be impossible to leave, unless he was a lousy lay, but I didn’t get that impression from him.

  “I came with a friend of mine a few months ago and I had a pretty good time. I haven’t been in a few weeks; though I’m sure glad I decided to come tonight.”

  “Sorry I interrupted your evening. You really don’t have to babysit me. I can just lay here until I’m all right to drive.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  “I just figure a guy coming to a place like this isn’t looking to chit chat all night.”

  “Is that what you came here for?”

  “No, I thought I was meeting up with a group for divorced women.” I’d forgotten how hard liquor deactivated my filter.

  “Well, if you’d prefer the company of a woman over me, I certainly wouldn’t be offended.”

  “Wait, no. I didn’t mean it like that,” I said feeling the panic rush up my throat. “I’m not a lesbian. I like men, only men. That’s why I had to leave my house tonight because I couldn’t stop thinking about how long it’s been since…” I slapped my hand over my mouth and crashed face down into the pillows.

  My kids were going to have to transfer schools. How could I be so stupid?

  “Been so long since what?” he asked, rubbing my back.

  My muscles melted under his touch and I accidentally let out a moan.

  “Wow, it really has been a long time if a back rub causes that kind of reaction.”

  “You have no idea.”