He kissed her again. “I’m not trying to put any pressure on you here.”
“I know,” she said, little more than a whisper.
“But I’m into you,” he said. “And I don’t think it’s a stretch to conclude that you’re into me as well.”
“It’s not,” she said.
“Good.” He smiled. “So what…” he kissed her forehead. “Are we…” he kissed the tip of her nose. “Doing here?” he finished his tour with another deep kiss on her lips, bringing his right hand up to caress her cheek. She felt her eyelids flutter and close as he began to kiss down her neck.
She heard herself say, “I don’t know,” and then immediately tried to replace it with, “I want to,” and found a “but…” at the end of her sentence.
He stopped and put his hands on hers, settled in her lap.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“Let me talk to Ryan?” she said, opening her eyes again, the world swimming hazily.
“Absolutely,” he said. “I’ll go upstairs and get some wine. Will you join, if all is well?”
She nodded, and after a last kiss, watched him go upstairs. A moment later, Julianne followed, carrying two martinis.
Jennifer turned to Ryan, who gave her a similar dazed look. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” he replied.
“How would you feel,” she began and paused, reaching out and putting her hands on his, “about me going upstairs with Glen?”
He blinked for a moment. “I think that’d be okay.”
“Yeah?” she asked, searching for more to read in his expression.
Ryan thought about it. The twinges of jealousy he’d felt toward Glen swam in his mind: the man’s physique, his confidence, his way with women, with Jennifer. Jennifer going off alone with him. The corners of Ryan’s mouth turned downward. Then his thoughts drifted to Julianne, and to what might follow those three words, “To be continued.”
How would he want Jennifer to respond, should he ask her that same question? He ran the scenario in his mind. Julianne had just asked him to come upstairs, and he asked Jennifer how she would feel about him going upstairs. In his mind, she smiled and kissed him, telling him that he should do whatever made him most happy.
This was a plunge, wasn’t it? The deep end’s seemingly endless fathoms stretched deeper and deeper ahead.
“Yeah,” he repeated. “I want you to do whatever makes you most happy.”
A look of serenity and love glowed across Jennifer’s face. “You’re wonderful,” she said.
“You’d do the same for me,” he replied.
She nodded and kissed him.
“Just check on me,” he said as she moved to the stairs. “Okay?”
“Of course,” she said, rushing back and kissing him again.
Then Ryan sat alone at the bar, feeling the throb of anticipation, the warmth of fantasy, imagining laying Julianne down right on the bar, kissing and licking her with wild abandon.
He hoped Jennifer would have a good time.
He hoped he would, too.
36
Two ten-foot-long buffet tables lined one side of the dining room. Jennifer looked down them. First twenty or so bottles of wine, then small hors d’oeuvres and finger foods, ending in row after row of bottles of water. She nodded, impressed by how well-appointed this play party buffet was.
Two couples and a single woman mingled in the room, picking up bottle after bottle of wine to read the label before deciding.
Jennifer nibbled her lip.
“What’s the verdict?” asked Glen, appearing behind her.
She turned to him and took a deep breath. “We’re, um, good.”
“Excellent,” said Glen with a grin.
Jennifer felt flustered, as though she didn’t belong. She had no idea how to start things here, or if she ought to. Should there be drinks first? Or did downstairs count? Would she be a whore if she just fucked this beautiful man on a sofa in the great room? She finally decided just to ask. “So, how does this work? Do we just go off into a room?”
“What would make you happy?” he replied.
Big question, that. What would make her happy? She realized how rarely she’d considered the question. What she wanted. What she needed. Ryan knew what she liked and so didn’t really ask. Bruce and Paige had known all the tricks, so they had suggested things, and she had jumped on the train. All that aside, since she’d first seen Glen, she’d wanted to jump him. Not in a sweet and loving way, no, this was a desire to really let loose and fuck him, the way she’d always wanted that quarterback. There again, she questioned the legitimacy of her interest in him, was this somehow unethical?
“You remind me of someone I knew in college,” she blurted out.
Glen smiled.
“He was also named Glen.”
“And did you ever… do anything with this Glen?”
She shook her head.
His grin widened. “Did you want to?”
After a moment, she nodded.
“Do you want to pretend I’m him?”
Amazing, she thought. He was entirely unfazed, willing to just go with it. Of course, she considered, just going with it might get him what he wanted, an opportunity to play with her. Did it matter, she wondered? Didn’t everyone have their own reasons and methods and plans? So what if two people were just using each other, if everybody was getting what they want out of it?
“That wouldn’t be weird for you?” she asked.
He shook his head, then leaned over so his mouth was right by her ear. The stubble on his cheek scratched against her and sent shivers down her spine. “You feel free to tell me if I’m overstepping here, but I always regretted not telling you that I wanted you back at school.”
That deep voice. Her eyelids fluttered.
“And I don’t care that we’re surrounded by people, I just want to take you upstairs, find someplace secluded, yank open that robe, and fuck you.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Let’s… do exactly that.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room.
When Ryan wandered upstairs to the buffet room, maybe twenty minutes later, he found it empty. He’d gone from alone at the basement bar to alone at the buffet. He nodded. Figures.
His head swam from the very heavy pour of the Highland Park 25 he’d helped himself to, after it had become apparent that no one would soon be coming downstairs to join him. After that, though, he’d decided he ought not have more of the Highland. Too good to waste when he was already… tipsy, right? This was tipsy. He’d decided to wander and explore.
He poked through the bottles of wine, wishing that someone was around, even Bruce, to tell him which bottle he should drink, what was good. He knew one thing, he hadn’t seen these labels at the grocery store. Could probably just close his eyes and grab. Whatever he chose would be exceptional. After a while, he grabbed a bottle from the reds and poured himself a very deep glass of Pinot Noir.
Jeff swept into the room, making a beeline right for a row of red bottles in the back. “I see you have taken advantage of the most comfortable robes. Excellent!” he said, noticing Ryan.
“Yes,” he said, “I hope that was alright.”
Jeff nodded. “Marty and Amanda are all about the amenities. Their casa es su casa!”
“Awesome. We had a lovely time in the hot tub with some new friends.” He realized he’d framed it as a brag. Perhaps he was hoping to impress Jeff, perhaps to make him jealous. Ryan didn’t quite know, but he gulped down some of his Pinot.