Greetings all; in my stories my characters exist in my head, but there might be real life inspirations for some of them. Who knows?
I'm back again with another story. This time my character has heteroflexible sexuality. After years of a couple talking about the husband trying cock the wife convinces him to go to a mixer for bisexual swingers.
~
"So, what do you think?" asked a voice from behind me.
I looked around to see who was asking before I answered. As soon as I saw it was him I had to turn and look away or I surely would have told on myself. I'd spotted him shortly after my wife and I arrived and he made me feel butterflies in my stomach. "Think about...what? I asked in response, trying to sound completely indifferent.
"The crowd, there's an interesting mix of people," he commented dispassionately.
"Yeah, I guess so," I replied in the same dry monotone.
"Do you know anyone here?" he asked, now standing beside me.
"No. Actually my wife found out about this mixer online and thought that it might make for an interesting date night," I explained, then turned up my glass to finish the last of my drink.
"What are you drinking?" he asked.
"Gin and tonic," I replied.
One finger or two?" he asked
I glanced at him for a second, then said, "Two."
I waited until I was sure he was at the bar before tried to sneak a look at his body. However he was already on his way back in less than a minute and caught me checking him out. I looked away quickly, but in that second that I had to look at him I saw the bulge in his Speedo trunks. They weren't the tiny ones, I was wearing that style thanks to my wife. His were more like a pair of boxer briefs with short legs.
He brought back a clean glass with what turned out to be my ideal proportions of gin, tonic, and ice. "Thank you," I said, cautiously.
He stood there quietly for a couple of moments while sipping his own drink. I was scanning the pool deck and wondering if that was all there was from him. Just then he said, "Where is your wife?" He asked, in a lowered tone of voice.
"She's the one in the blue and white striped cover up," I replied, looking to my right.
He looked in her direction but he didn't make a comment, instead he pointed out his own wife as she chatted on another part of the pool deck. "My wife wanted to come here too," he said, before taking a couple of leisurely sips of his vodka and red bull.
I sipped my drink too, as I waited to see where he was going. I felt his eyes on me when he said, "Are you down, or just curious?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Hm," he said, then he paused again before adding, "I always wonder how people choose their swimsuits."
I wasn't sure how to respond to that because I'd honestly never thought about it, but once he mentioned it I looked a people's choices of swimwear with a critical eye. Finally I gave an answer that I hoped sounded smart. "I suspect that the people here are likely making a statement about the type of person they're trying to attract," I said without ever looking at him. I had no idea if that was true in general, but my wife had said that the pink bikini style swim trunks she'd chosen for me would send an unmistakable message to other men at the mixer
He chuckled softly but briefly before saying, "That's an interesting theory."
"Its the only one I could come up with on such short notice" I said with a laugh. "But there's some method to everyone's madness, don't you think?"
He finished his drink the sat his empty glass on a nearby table. "Should I return the favor and make a run to the bar for you this time?" I asked, hoping to keep him talking to me.
"Would you mind?" he replied. "I'd didn't want to go back to the bar so soon. It'd look like I'm trying to drink all their liquor." Then he laughed softly again.
"How many fingers?" I asked as I stood up.
"Two," he said. "Vodka."
I walked away fully expecting that he was watching me, and I tried to be as graceful as I could be without looking effeminate. It must have worked because when I returned a moment later and handed his fresh drink to him, our fingers touched and he looked at me for a long moment before saying, "Thank you."
We resumed our positions, with him standing and me sitting, which I do as much as I can due to my sometimes balky back. He took a sip, then smacked his lips before saying, "This tastes better than the one I made for myself.
After taking another sip he went back to our previous conversation. "So, who do you think is a top?"
