Abby Learns the Game

The most intriguing aspect about our encounters with Frank and Clemmy was my wife's reaction or lack thereof. I thought I would be dealing with some post-club anxiety, especially after Luther became involved but it only turned out to be minor. I knew it could have gone the other way, so all in all, I felt relieved. It did leave me wondering how well I knew my wife's inner desires and the location of her boundaries. Several months ago, I would have guessed a mere sensual embrace would have made her go ballistic but we had blown through that to passionate kissing and fondling.

I thought it might be best to let things calm for a while and perhaps softly probe her sexual psyche over time. In my mind, that would occur in bed as we held each other and exchanged soft words. However, what I hadn't considered was Clemmy pushing things with my wife and it took her less than a week to reach out.

"Clemmy's been texting me," she announced over breakfast.

"About going to Luther's again?" I asked.

"No, she wants to meet for lunch," she explained.

"Why?" I asked.

"She says we should get to know each other better," she replied.

"Hmmm..." I responded suspiciously.

"What? What's that mean?" Abby asked.

"I think she's sizing you up or trying to determine how you'd react to an invitation. Maybe both," I offered.

"About your swinging theory?" she clarified.

"Yes," I responded.

"So, I shouldn't go?" she asked.

The question was interesting and in truth, I had some curiosity about the woman's motivation, so I said, "I guess you could go if you want. Just be prepared so you don't get surprised or upset."

She returned my look for a moment and then said, "I'm not twelve."

Later that day, after running errands for several hours, I returned home and popped open a beer then went looking for my wife.

"Did you talk to Clemmy?" I asked, finding her primping in front of the mirror.

"Yes," she replied but failed to elaborate.

"And?" I asked with mild annoyance.

"We're meeting for a drink Tuesday," she said.

"I thought it was going to be a lunch date?" I replied.

"Neither of us is free for lunch. Besides, it's a nice place and she's buying," she laughed.

I tried to ask a few more questions but she quickly grew annoyed at my hovering so I retreated to the living room. Although their appointment was only two days out, I had mostly forgotten about it due to pressing issues at work. Thus, when I arrived home Tuesday and found it empty, I had my phone out when I recalled her plans. Now with it squarely at the forefront of my mind, I wandered impatiently through the house until she arrived home an hour and a half later, noticeably tipsy.

"We've been invited to a party at their house a week from Saturday," she replied nervously after flopping onto the sofa.

"What kind of party? I asked.

"She said we didn't have to do anything. We could just stay for a while and meet the people," she replied.

"Abby, is it that kind of party?" I pushed.

"Yes, you were right. Happy?" she responded, and before I could speak, she added, "God, it's so dirty. How would you look at someone knowing and they know you know?"

"Awkward for sure. You told her no, right?" I clarified.

"I did," she answered but without conviction.

"Meaning?" I asked.

"She wouldn't take no for an answer. She said we could just stop by for a drink and then leave. And she kept asking...I committed to her I would talk to you about it," she explained.

"Well, you did. Want to go?" I asked.

"No," she replied.

"There...then we're done," I said.

"Okay," she agreed and started walking away, and just as she was about to exit the room, she said, "Frank is going to call you."

"Why?" I asked, catching up with her in the bedroom.

"For the same reason, she met with me. Try to convince you," Abby replied.

"How did he get my number?" I asked suspiciously.

"I...I gave it to her," she admitted nervously.

"I think they're out of line pushing so hard," I said.

"Yes, I agree...it does seem too much," she replied.

That ended the immediate conversation although we returned to it several times over the next few days. Mostly, it involved me asking clarifying questions about her discussion with Clemmy. I expected Frank would call quickly and get it over with one way or the other. However, when the weekend arrived and he still hadn't reached out, I assumed they had decided to go with Abby's rejection. Thus, I was mildly surprised when I received a call from the older man on Saturday afternoon.

"By now you must be aware of the conversation our wives had earlier this week," he started after the normal preliminaries.

"Yes, she told me about the discussion," I concurred.

"Perfect. Then, let me be candid but at any point, if you want to end the call, feel free to say so," he started, and after I acknowledged his comment, he continued with, "We are a very select group of attractive, successful, and educated adults that have been in our...scene for many years. When we ran into you and your beautiful wife the first time at the restaurant, we thought y'all would make a great addition to the group and our other interactions have only reinforced that view. With each new couple, we've had to go through an introduction, a discussion like this, and of course, it's quite awkward. In every case, the results have fallen into two camps. First, there are the ones that do not want to consider participation in any way and are offended by the approach. They shut things down quickly. The second group are the curious people...intrigued by the thought but not prepared to do anything without learning more. Never have we met a couple that was instantly eager. I say this so you can understand where you and Abby are in the spectrum. Are you with me so far?"

"I am," I confirmed.

"May I proceed?" the older man asked.

"Sure, go ahead," I told him.

"When Clemmy spoke with your wife, she was clearly quite nervous, as was to be expected. Although she said y'all weren't interested, she did agree to let us talk," Frank explained, and I sensed he was alluding to something the older woman saw that he wanted me to know about. However, I didn't try to clarify and let him continue, "The purpose of this call is to offer you the opportunity to meet and socialize with our little group without any pressure to participate. The others will know you're only there to observe and may decide to leave at any moment."

"Where does all this occur?" I asked, unable to hold back my curiosity about the mechanics.

"Our home usually. It's a very tasteful residence and my wife has done an outstanding job decorating," he explained.

"I see...look, Frank. I...we know that you and Clemmy aren't lunatics but this is way past anything we have ever been confronted with, let alone considered. I think the answer, as we stand here today, is no but I'll talk it over again with Abby and if that changes, we'll reach out." I told the man.

"I can't ask for any more than that. Have a good day," he replied and hung up.

"Was that Frank?" my wife asked suddenly appearing in the room.

"Were you eavesdropping?" I asked with a chuckle.

"No, I was walking by and from the tone..." she replied, fighting back her smile and when I rolled my eyes, she asked, "What did he say?"

I went through the brief discussion and when I finished, she confirmed it was like the message she received from the man's wife. Clearly, the sales pitch strategy focused on getting us to take the next step and meet the group. For the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening, we discussed the bizarre situation and speculated on everything from the people's attractiveness to the process of partner selection. It seemed that each time we contemplated a question it would quickly lead to several more. We found the speculative discussion very entertaining and managed to kill a bottle of wine and part of a second.

"Should we feel honored?" Abby giggled as we discussed our selection.

"I think so. I bet they looked at a hundred couples before they decided to approach us," I replied.

"Why do you think that?" she laughed.

"Because you're so beautiful," I said as I pulled her close and after giving her a long kiss, I teased her by saying, "Frank clearly thinks so."

"Yeah, yeah...Clemmy was the same way with you," she countered.

Then, suddenly a thought hit me, and rather than holding it back, I blurted out, "Could you do it with him? With Frank?"

A shocked look appeared on her face but just for a moment, for a tiny millisecond, I swore I saw guilt in her eyes before she replied, "No, of course not."

Now, I wondered if she held something within her, harbored some inner desires that she hadn't shared with me. Had she fantasized about the older man and perhaps even masturbated to thoughts of him caressing her body? Strangely, the idea didn't terrify me. Instead, it further enflamed my curiosity as once again I contemplated the boundaries of her sexual psyche that I had never really challenged.

"Do you want to take them up on the offer? Check it out?" I asked.

Oddly, in all our hours of discussion, we had not broached the simple question deciding instead to entertain ourselves on the subject without first calling for a show of hands.

"No, do you?" she replied after only a brief hesitation.

"No, I don't want you to get upset," I said, instantly realizing I had chosen my words poorly.

"What does that mean? Why do you think I'd get upset? Why not you?" she fired back.

"That didn't come out right," I acknowledged.

She gave me a hard stare for several seconds, clearly unimpressed by my mea culpa, and then answered, "So, you'd go if you were sure I wouldn't get upset? That's what you're saying. You really want to go except you're worried about me?"

I had to admire the cleverness she showed after so much alcohol, and now on my heels, I replied, "That's not what I'm saying."

"Okay, I promise I won't get upset. What's your answer?" she pushed.

"You're already upset," I countered.

"At you. Not at the...the swingers. I'm upset because you won't give me a straight answer," she stated.

Knowing she had me trapped, I responded, "Okay, look. I've thought about seeing what it's all about...to get the answer to all the questions we've been talking about but I don't think it's worth the trouble."

"Trouble meaning me?" she demanded.

"No, Abby...not you. I mean you some if I'm honest but other things, too. The social awkwardness, the visual knowledge we'll carry...and I'm sure when we're there we'll be pressured," I explained.

"So, it is me," she replied and the fire in her eyes informed me that I was either being played or she was truly enjoying taking me down.

"Abby, every man there is going to look at you and want to fuck you," I said crudely.

Again, she gave me a strange look and then took my hand and said sarcastically, "Oh, I'm sorry you're so insecure, baby."

That launched another round of discussion and somehow every time I tried to dig out of the hole I had created, I found myself descending deeper. A half-hour later, somehow, we had concluded it would be safe to go to the party to check things out but leave at the first sign of weirdness. In the end, I'm not sure whether it was a decision we reached together or if it was just the path out of the argument. Even then, I thought it highly likely we would change our minds before the day arrived.

Abby had the task of contacting Clemmy which she did the following day. Amazingly, little was said about it for the rest of the week, and it was only on Friday when I inquired about the dress that she told me it was a casual gathering.

"Okay, show me what you're wearing," I said.

"I'll show you but you don't get a say," she replied.

I stood aside as she went to her closet and came back with a dark blue knee-length turtleneck wool dress. It seemed a bit more than casual but also a quite defensive offering as it provided no view of her sensual neck or lovely thighs. A few hours later, dressed in grey slacks, a blue shirt, and a navy blazer, I waited for her in the living room and stood as she entered.

"You look lovely," I told her.

"It's not too racy, is it?" she joked and then began laughing when I rolled my eyes.

"I guess we're really going," I said when she calmed.

"I guess but let's be ready to leave," she responded.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up in front of a handsome home set on a large piece of property in a fashionable section of the city. Frank met us at the door, giving my wife a simple kiss on the cheek, and soon we were sipping cocktails as the remaining guests arrived. In all, there were six couples including our hosts with Abby and I easily being the youngest. Everyone looked professional, and I was proud of the way my wife managed to interact with the group. An hour had gone by and people were on their second or third drink when Clemmy used a serving fork against her Champaign glass to get everyone's attention.

"We have something fun in store for this evening, but first everyone must change into the outfits we've arranged. They are on the table in the dining room with your name on them and there are plenty of places to change so get to it!" she announced in her normal bubbly way.

Instantly, people began moving towards the dining room like children receiving a present. Abby's eyes caught mine, and we lingered near the back nervous about what to do. I knew without speaking that we were both contemplating whether it was time to leave but we dutifully followed the others. When we entered the room, we could see that everyone had received the same outfit which looked like heavy pajamas with slippers. There was a long sleeve top that buttoned up the front and full pants with drawstrings. Both male and female sets came ornately embroidered with the only visible difference being an orangey-red for the women and gold for the men.

"This is a bit weird don't you think?" Abby said when the others had left to change.

"Yes, kind of, but these things aren't really...threatening. I mean... Do you want to go?" I asked.

"The longer we stay the harder it becomes to leave," she said.

I nodded to her and we prepared to go in search of our hosts when Clemmy appeared in the doorway.

"Don't panic. Still, plenty of time to leave," she said with a reassuring smile, and then quickly added, "Besides, you should see what Frank has created. It's amazing."

"Clemmy, we're nervous," my wife said.

"Honey, relax. Neither your husband nor Frank would ever let anything happen to you," she said in a soothing voice.

With a final smile, she turned and left leaving us once more to face the decision. I had to admit I still held a certain curiosity, so when Abby looked at me, I merely shrugged my shoulders. With a deep sigh, she grabbed her package, and together we left to find a place to change.

Fortunately, the first bedroom we came to was empty, although there were clothes there indicating a couple had already changed and left. I helped her pull the dress over her head and then started to remove my things. Abby was wearing a tiny thong and a very thin bra that seemed incongruent with her conservative outerwear and for a moment I wondered if they had been a subconscious selection.

"I don't think you're supposed to wear underwear with these," I said as she began to pull up the bottoms.

"If I have to run out of here, I want my panties," she replied which made us both laugh and broke the tension.

Now that she had set the precedent, I found myself pulling the pants up over my boxers. It took only a few minutes to finish, and we placed our clothes in a neat stack on the bed then joined the others. The odd clothing had created a buzz and now everyone seemed giddy which made me nervous about what might happen next.

Our hosts assembled everyone in the living room and dimmed the lights to a low level before illuminating the backyard with floodlights. Suddenly, a large tent appeared that seemed to be made from a very heavy material.

"Frank, is that a desert tent?" one of the male guests asked.

"Yes, it's a Bedouin tent to be precise. I ran across it by chance and the owner didn't realize what he had," he explained.

"Let's see it," a female voice spoke, and we all quickly moved towards the back door.

"Damn, Frank," I heard a male voice say ahead of me, as I waited to enter the tent.

Once inside, I realized what he had been referring to. It was one of the cleverest and most enticing set-ups I had ever seen. The tent could easily hold everyone and covering the floor were numerous overlapping oriental rugs. Also, arranged around the perimeter were six stations that consisted of a small mattress held within a nice cover, along with numerous pillows. There were several platters filled with fruits in the center and on either end was a hookah with multiple hoses. Middle Eastern music was playing through some unseen sound system and soft lighting filtered from around the bottom providing just enough illumination to see. Now, the outfits made sense as we realized our host's intentions.

For the next few minutes, Frank and Clemmy were inundated with words of admiration for their concept, and following that they answered questions. When the din died down, the couples were directed to pick a spot. Abby and I took one across from Frank and Clemmy and sat down cross-legged. Our hosts directed everyone's attention to the wine that was positioned in jugs around the tent and the goblets that went with each station. Dutifully, I poured some for my wife, and we joined the conversation while I occasionally fed Abby grapes from the tray.

"This is amazing," I whispered to her, as the others chatted.

"It is! Wow...not what I expected," she concurred.

Besides us and our hosts, the other couples included Steve and Sally, Craig and Diane, Jim and Mary, and Bob and Irene. Steve and Sally were just to our left and looked to be the next youngest couple to us at perhaps thirty-five. Steve was tall and in good shape with chiseled facial features, and his wife who also looked good was a honey blonde with deep blue eyes and a very nice smile. Craig and Diane were to their left, next to our hosts, and looked to be around forty. Craig was heavy without really looking fat which juxtaposed with his petite wife. Both had dark hair, although Craig's hairline was receding rapidly. Diane was full of life and jumped into the middle of every conversation, but her husband was quieter, almost brooding, at times.

To our immediate right were Bob and Irene who also looked to be around forty. Bob was a pretty average-looking guy, but his wife was very good-looking. She had light brown hair, a slender body, and a way of carrying herself that delivered the message that at one time she had been an absolute stunner. To their right were Jim and Mary that looked to be the oldest couple at what I guessed was around fifty. While showing some signs of age, they made up for it with their witty conversation that usually had the group laughing.

While the conversation continued, I noticed Bob pick up a small wooden box, extract something and place it in the hookah. Almost immediately, a sweet aroma filled the room and he reached for one of the hoses.

"Go easy, Bob. It's strong," Frank said, stopping the chatter for a moment.

The smell and his warning let me know that the substance being burned was very likely illegal. I had consumed my fair share of pot in college and Abby had admitted trying it several times, but it had been years and I knew the current strains were stronger. We watched as Bob sucked gently on the hose and after several seconds emitted a stream of smoke from his mouth. He offered the hose to his wife Irene while at the same time Jim took one of the other hoses. With my focus on the developments at our end of the tent, I didn't notice at first that Frank had fired up the other device, and now that there were two going, I knew it wouldn't be long before our turn came.