“Thank you for the party, and for the wine.” She smiled and watched him leave.
The hallway leading to the home theater was dimly lit, but Jennifer enjoyed dancing in and out of the light being cast by the low sconces. She heard muffled voices in the room and slowed as she approached the door.
“I’d like to kiss you,” said Julianne.
Jennifer watched the sultry woman lean in and kiss her husband. She felt relief well up in her chest. This was good. She and Ryan had fun together, and they could have some fun separately. We can do this. We really can!
“Thank you for that,” said Julianne.
Jennifer slipped back against the wall. If he saw her, he might think that she was checking up on him and get self-conscious, or feel obligated to invite her to join. He should have this to himself. Then, on their way home, they could go over all the wonderful things that had happened tonight.
She made her way up to the great room, empty save a couple making out on the sectional couch. She chose the overstuffed leather love seat and flopped directly in the center. After a moment of enjoying the comfort, she looked down at the belt of her robe. So many people naked around the house at this point, why be clothed? Clothing was for vanilla parties, wasn’t it?
She glanced around, not really sure what she was looking for. More people? Fewer? Regardless, she tugged the loose knot free and opened her body to the room. The firelight from the fireplace danced across her chest. She leaned back her head and closed her eyes.
The scent of the fireplace filled her nose, mingling with candles and the musky bouquet of sex. She’d always been a touch repulsed by the way the bedroom smelled after Ryan and she did it, but this scent was different. It radiated off her as well, like a note in a symphony of sex emitted from the house itself. Intoxicating.
“Since you seem to be basking with an empty glass,” said Bruce, “I thought I’d offer a refill.”
Jennifer opened her eyes and looked up at Bruce, standing next to the couch. His ruby red shirt hung unbuttoned, black undershirt exposed, curly chest hair poking out over the top. He was here and smiling at her. Maybe all was forgiven? She resisted the hope.
“Hey!” she said, and immediately regretted the eagerness in her voice.
“Hey, you,” he said. “It’s Sandeman Aged Tawney Porto. A wonderful addition to a late evening. An experience only improved by chocolate or cigars.” He handed the small glass to her. “Sadly I have neither to offer.”
She took it in both hands. “Thank you,” she said.
“And how are you doing?” he asked.
“Well, I’m doing lovely.”
Bruce smiled wide, a wistful expression on his face. “So it seems,” he told her. He looked down, and away, then sat and folded his hands over his knees. He stared at them for a moment. “So, listen. We, Paige and I, felt bad about how things—”
“No,” Jennifer said. She pressed her hand into his chest. “I should apologize.”
“It’s just… We were sorta surprised by our connection with you both, too. So that night—”
“We’re new at this,” she suggested, hoping he’d be willing to write it off with that.
“Yes,” he agreed. “And enthusiastic.”
She nodded, but tried not to do it enthusiastically.
“Just thought it best to pump the brakes, and then re-acquaint…” he drifted off when Jennifer put her hand high up on his thigh. He looked down and smiled. “Well, hey there, kiddo.”
“Do you have someplace to be?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Where’s Paige?”
“Paige is,” he smiled, “Otherwise occupied.”
Jennifer stared into Bruce’s smiling face. She felt the rush of the warmth and comfort that exemplified their time with the Shepards. She took a risk, leaned in, kissed him. After a moment, he kissed back.
“Do you play separately?” she asked when the kiss finished.
“Yes,” he replied, seeming surprised by the question. “Do you?”
The emphasis on “you” gave her pause, but the plan moved forward now. Just kick off the jitters and ask for what you want, Jen. “We are tonight.”
Bruce leaned back a bit and cocked his head. “So, Ryan is…”
“Downstairs,” she returned, “with a gorgeous woman named Julianne.”
“Julianne.” He smiled and looked off to the side, clearly enjoying a memory flash. “She’s something.”
“Yes, she is.” Jennifer realized that Bruce wouldn’t make the first move. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
She looked down, unsure she’d be able to say it with his eyes on her, but wanting to say it, needing to say it. Here went nothing. “I want you to take me in one of those rooms upstairs and fuck me.”
When she looked back up, she saw that Bruce’s eyes had narrowed, just a bit. A sly smile crept across his face as he stared into her, trying to read her. Jennifer felt exposed, she’d just thrown it out there, swung for the fences. Been honest about what she wanted for a change, no hiding behind pretense or anything else. Open.
“Do ya, now?” he asked, affecting a slight drawl.
She nodded. “Very much so.”
He pursed his lips. “And Ryan is—”
“Otherwise occupied,” she said.
Bruce’s eyes didn’t leave her as he took a long, slow sip of his wine. His tongue darted out to clean the purple port from his upper lip, just below his mustache.
Time to seal the deal? Jennifer slid her hand all the way up his thigh, cupping his cock, which seemed to strain against the fabric of his pants. She ran her fingers along its contorted shaft until she got to the spot just below the head and pressed harder, rubbing in a semicircle.
“Jesus,” he said.
“Just me,” she replied.
40
“Julianne left in quite a hurry,” Amanda said from behind the bar as Ryan shuffled in. She looked unhappy.
He waved his hand, blowing off the comment. “Misunderstanding,” he said as he tightened the tie on his robe.
Amanda stared at him for a moment, jaw set. She reached under the bar and produced a bottle of water, setting it down with a thud.
“What’s that for?” asked Ryan.
“Some agua fria,” she snapped at him. “Why don’t you drink it.”
Ryan looked from the bottle, to his host, to the bottle again, then begrudgingly sat at the bar in front of her. He twisted the top off the bottle and drank a third of it, staring at her as he did it.
“Good,” she said, keeping eye contact.
He knew that he should just keep his mouth shut. This had always been a problem, that moment with Jennifer, or with his boss or a coworker, where he had something he so desperately wanted to say, but shouldn’t. He always knew it, too. That there was no good in it. That saying whatever damn fool thing was on his mind wouldn’t help. Wouldn’t even make him feel better. Would just escalate the situation.
So he absolutely should not say, “That wasn’t right.” He sighed after he said it anyway.
“And what’s that?” asked Amanda.
“She lied to me,” he said, trying to jam his fist into his brain to stop himself from continuing. “Told me she wanted—”
“Okay, Ryan,” the polite terseness was over, now her voice was cutting. “Let me go ahead and stop you there.”
Good. Let it stop there. Let that be it. Don’t open your fucking— “Are you also going to lecture me about not having any expectations? ’Cuz she already played that song.”
“No,” said Amanda. “As a matter of fact I was going to tell you how off-putting someone is when they’re as clearly drunk as you are.”
“Oh, were you?” He boiled inside himself. The little voice that had been telling him to stop turned around and walked away. “Well, let me tell you—”