Introduction
The Guildford Court Supper Club is a group of neighbors who have been getting together, one Saturday night a month for going on twenty-five years. It all started out back in the early 90's when a group of us moved into the newly built cul-de-sac, as a way to get to know our new neighbors. There were initially three families in the club: Max and Yvette Miller (that's us), Greg and Tammy Barnes, and George and Betty Schmidt.
As more families moved into the street, we gradually added a few more. We originally capped the group at eight families, but it varied over the years from a low of around six to a peak of eleven couples, including a lesbian couple that lived on the street for a few years.
The idea was simple. Each month a different family would host a supper at their house. The host family would prepare the main dish and provide the beverages. Everybody else would bring an appetizer, side dish or dessert.
Sometimes there was a theme, but not always. Often, we would tie the dinner parties to holidays, like Mardi Gras or Halloween. There was usually some sort of game or activity to cap off the night. Members took great pride in trying to outdo the ones that came before them. And, there was always massive amounts of alcohol consumed.
I think it was because we could always walk, or stagger home. Over the years, we became closer than neighbors. We're like a big, hybrid multi-home family in many ways. We would come and go from each other's yards and homes regularly. The guys would golf or watch sports together, practically daily. The ladies would go shopping together or go to ladies lunches and girls nights out frequently.
The funny thing is, we never did the kind of typical things you hear about, like "going out with the boys." Other than golfing, the men all stayed home. Now, we would all go out to dinner with our wives or with other couples all the time. You could find a bunch of us hanging out in the front yards or occupying the cul-de-sac with barbecues and loungers. In colder weather, we broke out fire pits, and we would sit outside, drink and socialize.
The ladies, now they would go out fairly often. There was always a women's outing for one of their birthdays or a ladies' "paint and drink wine party," or bunko night, or just the generic "girl's night out." I think the men used to time to play poker, drink beer and chill out.
Now there were a lot of dynamics among the members of the GCSC. Some of the couples were older than us. Some of them were younger than us. Some were conservative Republicans, and others were liberal Democrats. Some were prudish in their behavior, while others were party maniacs. The big thing was, we all got along well. And when Saturday came for dinner club, we all partied pretty damn hard.
It seems the longer the club went on, the harder the partying became. As many of our kids grew up and went off to college and beyond, several of us became empty nesters. That combined with the arrival of a couple of newer, younger families introduced some new dynamics.
What follows are some of the more provocative stories from the past 25 years.
Chapter 1
Same Floor Plan, Different Husband
Now, our neighborhood is pretty big and reasonably affluent. We're on the upper side of the upper-middle class. We're a long way from wealthy, but we do pretty well. So, our homes are not precisely cookie-cutter, but they're not exactly custom homes. So, there's a fair amount of repetition on some of the floorplans. It just so happens that the house about five doors down from us has the same floor plan as our house.
There was a period of about three years where the people who lived in that house, Jake and Darla Rogers, were in our supper club. They moved away, and the people who came in after them were assholes, so we never invited them to join.
So, one time Jake and Darla were hosting supper club during February, so it had a Valentine's Day theme, with alleged aphrodisiac foods, me mixing up some special Lover's Punch and a lot of drunk people. I was sitting out back by the firepit drinking, and my wife was inside with most of the wives. Yvette was pretty hammered. Every time I went inside, she was working on a new glass of wine. It only took three to get her drunk as she was pretty petite. Before too long, she was curled up on the Rogers' couch sleeping.
As the evening waned, most people left until there were only about three couples left. Jake and I were out back, playing cornhole with Mark Meyers and Darla, Jake's wife. Mark's wife Cindy had just gone and said she would take Yvette home on her way. Mark was sticking around until we finished the game of cornhole.
If you don't know what cornhole is, I'll give you a quick overview. It's kind of like horseshoes, but instead of big, dangerous metal horseshoes, you toss bean bags. Instead of trying to get them around a pole, you try to get them into the hole on a large box. If you get a bag on top of the box, it's worth one point. If you get it in the hole, it's worth three points.
Now we'd been playing a game we called "shot in the hole." Anytime you threw your beanbag, and it went in the hole, you could designate a member of the other team who had to drink a shot. Darla and I were partners against Jake and Mark. Darla and I had won the first game and were way ahead in the second. Jake and Mark were both wasted. Mark couldn't even throw the bean bag, and Jake could barely stand. We finally decided to call it over.
I had to help Mark walk home, which was not unusual behavior for Mark. I'd had to help him home several times. I got him inside his front door and helped him collapse on his sofa. I went back by the Rogers to make sure everything was okay. Darla was in the kitchen cleaning up. Jake had been able to stagger to bed on his own. Her house was a mess, so I volunteered to help, but I told her I wanted to run home to check on Yvette then I'd come back.
So, I zipped down the street to my house. It was dark inside. I turned on a few lights and thought about how similar my home was to Darla's. We even had very same furniture. I went into the bedroom, but the bed was empty. That was odd.
I looked around the other side of the bed, in case Yvette had fallen asleep on the floor. She wasn't there. I checked the bathroom. Empty. I went back out and checked the kitchen and family room, nothing. The front bathroom, nope. Then as I stood there wondering, I got a weird thought. What if in her drunken state, Yvette had thought she was at home. She would have gone to bed in the wrong house.
I quickly made my way back to the Rogers and went inside. I didn't need to knock, we rarely did and especially not on Saturday. Darla was still in the kitchen. I told her that Yvette wasn't home and wondered if she might have gotten confused.
"Oh, well Jake went to bed twenty minutes ago," she said, her eyebrows raised, "you think she's in there with him?"
I laughed, thinking there was no way. Then, we both looked at each other and thought, "Oh shit!" and headed to the bedroom. As I opened the door, the sound hit me in the chest. Darla gasped.
The sound was a combination of the rhythmic squeaking of bed springs, the thumping of the headboard on the wall, and the high-pitched whimpers of my wife. I froze in my tracks. The bed was illuminated softly from the light coming out of the bathroom. They were both naked. Jake was on top of Yvette, and her legs were up in the air, her feet around his hips. He had his face buried in the space between her neck and shoulder. He was thrusting hard, steadily, making the bed bounce.
I started to yell, but Darla grabbed my arm and pulled me back out of the door. "Wait," she said, looking at me. "They're both drunk off their asses. I bet they don't even realize."
"What?" I said staring at her, "He's fucking my wife!"
Just then we heard Yvette loudly moan as she started cumming. "And she likes it," Darla said. "Let them finish."
