Transcontinental: Temporary Husbands, Temporary Wives
Copyright© 2025 by Wolf
Chapter 12: Christmas Parties
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 12: Christmas Parties - Young, smart, dedicated, career-oriented, highly sexed. She is youngest woman to get tenure at prestigious eastern university. He’s promoted to the ‘best job ever’ on the west coast. What do they do? One answer is swap with a couple with the reverse problem. Does it stop there? Hardly! Another book in the collection of 20+ that author Wolf offers as eBooks at Bookapy, which supports elderly writers like him seeking to supplement their social security. Every book < $6, vast majority under $5.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Humor Workplace Sharing Incest Group Sex Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Voyeurism
Two weeks before Christmas on a Friday and Saturday were the College President’s Christmas Party at the University, and then the Christmas party that Dirk’s company threw for their local employees. These were the first two social events where we were tacitly supposed to involve our ‘spouses’ or significant others. My SOP was on the other side of the country going to a similar party where Jo worked.
Long before, Dirk and I agreed that we’d go as a ‘close friend’ and let it go at that, explaining that our spouses were working on the other side of the country. There’s an old saying that everybody has three lives: public, private, and secret. What I realized for the first time is that excessive amounts of alcohol make one reveal more about their hidden and secret lives than the sober mind. The lines between even those lives blur.
Harvard’s party took place in the Widener Library, an august building named after Harry Elkins Widener, a young bibliophile who perished when the Titanic went down. About two-hundred-fifty faculty members and staff were there along with the President and various deans. Also present were another hundred of Harvard’s most generous donors and spouses, and another hundred of the most promising students, especially those whose parents had more money than God.
The whole academic event was invitation only except for the faculty. I felt privileged because this was the first social event of significance since I’d made tenure. Dirk and I wandered the ground floor of the beautiful building carrying our wine glasses and wandering in and out of the heavily wood-lined reading rooms, each with a fireplace and comfortable seating.
Dirk was on his best behavior, stayed by my side, although I didn’t require that of him, and was a brilliant conversationalist. His brilliance and mine got even better as we snacked on hors d’oeuvres and drank more of the fabulous free wines being served.
Morton Hershier was my department chair. The fatherly man latched onto me for one our rare talks that didn’t address work in some way. I think someone had told him he needed to schmooze with his minions, and so he was doing his duty but in a nice and sincere manner. Morton was three sheets to the wind although he had a reputation for being able to hold his liquor.
Things started to come a little unraveled when Morton asked how Dirk and I happened to know each other. It was an obvious enough question, but we hadn’t rehearsed any ‘standard’ answers ahead of time. Damn. Somewhat fogged by my own indulgence in the wine, it was my substitution of the words ‘lives with’ for ‘knows’ and my awkward sentence structure that made time stand still.
I said, “My husband ‘lives with’ Dirk’s wife out on the west coast ... so Dirk is ‘with’ me.”
Dirk nodded to confirm my statement, although he would have nodded to about anything I said at that point even if it were a blatantly absurd statement, like ‘The moon is made of silly putty.’ Even as the words rolled out of my mouth, I knew I had just spilled the beans on my secret life.
Morton’s brain was still active enough to connect the dots. He asked, “So, you two live together on this coast while your spouses are doing the same out there?” He waved one arm in roughly a western direction.
Dirk nodded again. I rolled my eyes, now realizing the error of my ways but there was no way to get Pandora back in her box – at least that I could conjure in my buzzed state.
Morton went on, “So, you swapped spouses? That’s nice. Do you see your spouses often?”
Dirk nodded again with an innocent ‘deer in the headlight’ look on his plastered face. He wisely kept his mouth shut. This was my circus, my tent, and my monkey.
“Morton, don’t go off halfcocked on this. Yes, we see our spouses every two or three weeks. Our frequent flyer miles are mounting up rapidly. This is an arrangement to ... to ... to...” Damn I couldn’t think what else this arrangement was for besides sex. That was the single word flashing in the cortex of my brain. Finally, I had a harebrained idea and added, “ ... to be sure Dirk’s wife and I were somewhat protected as single females and didn’t have to live alone. We are good friends.”
One of my teaching assistants had joined our conversation. He said, “Oh, I thought Dirk was your husband. You look at each other so lovingly. When you leave the office, you always seem so excited to go home and see him too.”
I think I rolled my eyes towards heaven. The muck and mire I’d made for myself was getting deeper, and I was sinking fast. I exclaimed, “Errrrr, yes, he’s a good friend too, and ... errrr ... we like to have dinner together.”
Damn, it wasn’t that what I was saying that was bad, it was the damn pauses to think of some politically-acceptable answer in between. Why had I had so much free wine? I looked at Morton, and he knew it too, even in his inebriated state. He gave me a lecherous grin, the lascivious old man.
Trying to recover, I jabbed my elbow into Dirk’s side, “Tell them about your father’s business, and what you’re doing to turn it around before selling it.” I thought the change of topic might save me from further embarrassment. It’d at least be a subject change.
Dirk expounded in a long, nonstop paragraph about his dad’s tool and die business, babbling about raw and finished stock inventories, production problems with dies, stamps, and presses, the economy, selling a small business, various human resource problems, taxes, and government intervention and reporting requirements. He mentioned his father’s health being the reason he’d had to come to the Boston area.
Morton’s eyes glazed over with boredom at Dirk’s report, but then he turned to me and said, “Don’t worry, your private life is of no concern to me. I think it’s nice that you could swap spouses – not everyone is as liberated these days.”
I smiled wanly at him. There was no upside to this. I knew Morton was likely the biggest gossip on the faculty, and I had just inadvertently provided him with the juiciest scandal-laden piece of news he’d probably ever had land in his lap over his whole long life. He’d be able to milk this for months.
I had never paid attention the gossip grapevine at the University, but now I knew I’d have to see what my awkward revelations turned into.
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