Chapter 9

Over the next three months the swapping continued. During the week the couples remained monogamous, except for a few holidays and special occasions (when Sandy and Jan got feisty and announced to their tired husbands that it was going to be a "fun" night). This happened infrequently enough to perk the guys up no matter how stressing their days had been. A few weekend nights they flirted with the idea of Jan being alone with Bob at her house and Stan with Sandy in theirs. The rule was for each of them to be back in their own beds before sunrise. The following days the girls would tell all and critique their husbands' performances. What they discussed never reached the ears of the hubbies.

Everything remained hunky-dory until the third week in January. The men announced they were going on a four day hunting trip the following weekend. The wives jumped at the chance to have swinging sex under the stars in the great outdoors. Not to be! It was strictly a stag affair. Six guys. Jan got the gleam in her eye, but relented.

The girls handled it well until late Wednesday afternoon soon after the guys had left. Stan's secretary, a temp since his regular assistant was out with the flu, called with a message for Stan. The "Girl's for You Modeling Agency" had called to inform Stan that they would only be able to supply three girls rather than four, but assured him the three had extensive experience and should perform well. "Yeah, hunting. Hunting to get a strange piece of ass," stormed Jan.

"How could they?" asked Sandy. "No telling what strange diseases they might bring home."

"Men are never satisfied. Look at our president. He has a bimbo stashed in every closet in the White House."

"It hasn't been proved."

"Get a brain. He orders kneepads by the gross. He probably snaps his fingers and points to his crotch and down the ladies drop."

"The economy's blasting along."

"And so is the financial success of our husbands, but I'm no Hilary. Getting even is twice the satisfaction of getting mad. But Hilary's most likely making things plenty uncomfortable in the Clinton household."

"What revenge is appropriate for those jerks?"

"Let's mix a couple of martinis and decide."

As they sipped, Sandy said, "We could cut them off for awhile."

"That cut's us off too. Unless..."

"That gleam in your eye always makes me nervous."

"I say we have a night on the town. I enjoyed that Rathskeller Restaurant. Do you... ?"

"How could I forget? Do you think they'll remember us?"

"I doubt it. But so what?"

"What would we wear?"

"As you always say, 'gotcha going, haven't I?'"

Sandy twisted her hands together as if trying to squeeze water from a rag. "I don't know. The thought excites me, but we could catch something."

"Who said anything about fucking?"

"Well, uh, I just... it crossed my mind, but..."

"Relax. It may happen. I was only joshing you."

"But only if the guys wear protection. That is, if anything happens."

"There's a problem with the Rathskeller. The guys are young, very young, and single. It's safer with someone older who's married. Young kids get crushes and have nothing to lose by blabbing. Let's hit some classy places. Mature men have more experience and aren't in such a rush to only please themselves."

"Good thinking. Sounds like you've done this before."

"Wishful thinking. It's five o'clock now. Let's bathe and spiffy up. The jackets we wore last time worked well, since we can button up or down to let guys know how much they diddle our fancy."

"That was in September. Not too swift for this weather. It's cold outside."

"Not too cold for those cheating husbands of ours."

"Bob said something about a cabin."

"A little whorehouse in the woods?"

Sandy set her jaw. "Sexy. We want to dress sexy but not freeze our tits off."

"I like my white lamb's wool mock turtleneck body suit, with the cut-away bare shoulder's. It has the skirt slit on one side to mid-thigh. It clings to my boobs and my nipples will stand out."

"Perfect. It covers everything but shows it too. How about me?"

"Your black sculptured tank dress with the triple straps on each side of that low scoop neckline is an attention getter. It's cut above your knees."

"My arms will be bare. Yours is long-sleeved."

"The white jeweled sweater!"

"Yeah. The dress is solid black. I won't be too-too. Conservative earrings and no necklace. You can wear your gold bracelet and the gold dangling earrings."

"Sophisticated ladies to attract distinguished gentleman. But where do we go?"

"The Beverly-Wilshire?"

"Maybe, but we might run into an acquaintance."

"So? We're having a drink before dinner. Our husbands are out of town."

"Let's eat before we go so we can hit several places and not take time for dinner."

"Okay. Be ready by 7:30."

They sat at a table for four in the bar at the Wilshire, basking in the elegant atmosphere. The pianist played show tunes and they sipped martinis. Several expensively dressed gentlemen made subtle inquires about joining them. The problem: old farts. "Those that can afford this place seem to be on the wrong side of sixty," said Jan.

"Let's move on."

By 10:15 and three chic lounges later they were dejected. Not for lack of proposals but for a lack of acceptable suave hunks. "I only had a sandwich earlier and with all our drinks I could use something to eat. How about you?"

"Sure. So, we struck out there's always tomorrow night. We ruled out the Rathskeller this afternoon, but it's close. The food's edible and who knows!"

"We're not dressed for cradle robbing. We should have worn jeans and t-shirts. I'm afraid the rope's broken on our swinging episode."

When they sat at the bar at the Rathskeller, the bartender asked, "The usual?"

"Huh?" said Sandy, "you remember us? It's been three months."

"Dry martinis with olives. I never forget a cleavage."

Sandy dropped her eyes and flushed.

"Hey, it was a compliment. You two reek of class. Didn't mean to embarrass."

"It's okay," said Jan. "That night was an unusual circumstance."

"Too bad, I'd love a repeat, although several patrons complained about their ophthalmology bills. Seems a lot of eyes popped out that night."

Jan and Sandy grinned while he mixed.

"Two martinis on the house. From me actually. I should have been more discreet."

"No, no. That's not necessary," said Sandy.

"What's not necessary?" came a voice with a face that leaned between the two of them.

Sandy and Jan turned to the person inches away and recognized the waiter, Greg, who asked, "Out slumming again?"

"This place isn't so bad," said Jan.

"The owner might pay you millions to repeat that on TV. It's great to see you again. Want something to eat?"

"Yeah, what's good tonight?'

Greg scratched his head and looked at Mark the bartender. Mark said, "Ask an easy question. Greg and I usually go down the block to Luigi's after work. The food's good and the drinks are cheap. We close here in half an hour. Want to go with us?"

Jan and Sandy looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

"It's set then, "said Greg. "This place is about empty. I'll play vulture beside my last remaining table and maybe they'll take the hint."

Greg returned with a bill and credit card. Mark rang it up. "I asked them if they wanted to see the breakfast menu," said Greg.

Jan and Sandy retired to the ladies room. "What are we thinking about?" asked Sandy.

"So we grab a bite and talk a little. What's the harm?"

"They're so young."

"And handsome, and well built, and seem to be educated."

"If anybody sees us with them, we're dead meat. We could never explain it."

"If you want, you can go on and I'll get a cab home. I'm on the payback warpath."

"Right. It slipped my mind. We've put away a bunch of martinis tonight."

"Slipped your mind? God how we've changed. Our husbands are out porking lord knows whom, and it's not a hanging offense. Powder your nose and anything else that seems appropriate. Nothing's going to happen anyway. They have girls their own age and we're pushing thirty."

"I don't know about this."

While the girls were away, Greg asked, "How do we play this, Mark? These chicks are out of our league."

"Maybe not. I watch a lot of human nature play out from behind this bar. When they were here before, I picked up on a bit of competition between them. I think we should play good stud, bad stud and concentrate more attention on one or the other."

"It might sell. We could ease into it and check the response. Which one gets the special treatment? They're both gorgeous."

"Sandy. Jan seems to take the lead. If she takes the bait, and feels Sandy is getting more attention and showing her up, I think her competitive juices will come oozing out. But we go slowly. Carefully. I might be wrong."

Long and narrow, it was dark and full of smoke with knee bumping tables. Checkered tablecloths with candles flickering on each table. Soft grand opera background music with several patrons scattered in groups at a few of the tables. Sporadic loud laughing filled the narrow space.

"I think we've stumbled onto a set of 'The Godfather," whispered Jan.

"Wait until you've tasted the pasta," said Greg, "it'll make you want to bend your nose and buy a shoulder holster."

The guys ordered Bud Lights and the gals stuck with martinis. "These are our last drinks tonight. We're both woozy. No matter how we beg and plead you mustn't let us have anymore. Okay?" asked Sandy.

"Scout's honor," said Greg, as he gave a three-fingered salute, "we love, honor and obey. Right, Mark?"

"Not necessarily in that order."

They all decided on the shrimp marinara after the gals insisted on Dutch treat.

"So what brought you two back to the Rathskeller? Do you enjoy slumming?" asked Greg.

"Girls night out. Our husbands are on safari, searching for wild things."

"They must be bonkers to ever leave you alone," said Mark, "especially you Sandy. You look so young and vulnerable."

"We're both the same age. Almost thirty," shot back Jan.

"Wow," said Greg, "you both look younger, but thirty isn't old."

"I said almost thirty."

"What do you guys do when you're not in the restaurant?" asked Sandy in a sweet voice.

"Both students. Mark is majoring in pre-law and I'm studying creative design."

"It figures," said Jan, "lawyers can be assholes at times."

"I think it's neat," said Sandy.

"You have the prettiest eyes, Sandy," said Greg, as he placed a hand on her thigh beneath the tablecloth. Her short skirt had ridden up so that half his hand rested on her stocking and half on her skirt.

"How sweet," said Sandy. She let her hand drop nonchalantly to cover Greg's and tried to push his hand away.

"Sure you two don't want another drink?" asked Mark, distracting Sandy momentarily so that her grip loosened enough for Greg's hand to slip completely beneath her skirt.

"We're sure," said Jan. "Are you two holding hands over there?" asked Jan.

"Oh, no," said Sandy, quickly bringing her hand back to the table top.

"I'd really like to though," said Greg, giving Sandy a wink, but not removing his hand.

What should I do, thought Sandy. It's harmless enough I guess. Nothing to cause a scene over. But how far up will I let him travel.

"Do you have careers?" asked Greg as he moved higher to touch Sandy's lace panties.

"No, we're only housewives," said Sandy, as she spread her thighs a little.

Greg's hand dipped between them to allow the heel of his palm to rub against her vaginal cleft.

Jan sulked.

"Oh my goodness," said Sandy.

"What is it?" asked Jan. "Get a splinter in your pussy?"

"Oh-o-o, no-o-o. I think our food is here."

Greg gave several small rubs before withdrawing his hand.

As they ate, Sandy asked, "Don't you have girlfriends or something?"

"It's mostly 'or something, '" said Mark. "It's a special treat to be sitting here with two beautiful women." He looked straight at Jan, when he said it. Better ease up on her a little, he thought. She relaxed somewhat and gave him a small smile.

"This food is as good as you promised," said Jan.

"Wait until we get their special cappuccino."

As the waiter cleared away the plates, he asked, "Four specials, Mark?"

"Four extra-specials, Mario."

As they sipped, Jan said, "This tastes alcoholic."

"A touch of brandy," said Mark.

Three-quarters brandy, thought Greg.

"But you promised..." started Sandy.

"And you shall get no more martinis," broke in Mark.

They all laughed.

They paid their individual bills and the ladies insisted on leaving the tip. Struggling college kids and all.

As they stood to leave, the gals had to grab the backs of their chairs to steady themselves. "Something's hit me like a sledge hammer," said Jan, "I felt all right sitting down, but now I'm seeing everything in pairs. I need someone's arm."

"Me too, I'm as dizzy as a roller coaster ride. My tummy's doing the shimmy-shake."

The boys held their arms and steered them out side. "The night air will fix you up."

The girls took deep breaths. "Let's just walk slowly, now. In a block or two you'll get your sea legs back," said Greg.

"I feel like I'm on a raft in a hurricane," said Sandy, "Whee! Look at the street lights swingin' around, and dancin' in circles."

The guys exchanged worried glances. "Maybe that cappuccino was a bit too much," said Greg, as they steered them toward their apartment.

After three blocks the women's steps became surer. "Looks like the walk is helping," said Mark, "but we couldn't let you drive like this. Our place is right around the corner. We'll make coffee and get you in shape to drive."

The girls didn't argue.

"Up this one flight of steps now and you can relax for awhile."

The steps were narrow and Mark put his arm around Jan's back and under her arm to help her. Greg helped Sandy. Both took the opportunity to cup the girls' left breasts as they steadied them. So firm and soft, thought Mark, and no bra. Greg's hand had the extra layer of sweater to separate him from her goodies, but still felt his pecker begin to twitch.

The boys took it slowly. Every two or three steps they would pause. Jan's head rested on Mark's shoulder and he began to gently massage her nipple each time they stopped to rest. It grew long and hard by the time they reached the landing. Before he put his key in the lock, he tilted Jan's head back and kissed her tenderly on the lips. She lacked response but let him have his way with her lips. When she finally parted her lips to allow his tongue to enter her mouth, Greg said, "C'mon Mark, Sandy's getting heavy. We still have a step to go."

Mark got the door open and led Jan to the couch. She tried to focus her eyes and barely succeeded as she sat down. Sandy plopped down on the other end of the couch.

"Thanks, guys," said Sandy, "We'd never have made it on our own." She let her eyes close.

Greg and Mark huddled in the kitchen. "What do you think?" asked Greg, "they're far enough gone to let us strip and fuck 'em. It's lucky they didn't get sick."

"This is tricky. The bimbo's we bang would wake up and want more, but these are classy bitches. They might cry rape."