"You wanted to see me?" asked Sandy. She was a curvy woman with honey blonde hair, and she'd dressed up for the occasion, wearing a black rockabilly dress with white polka dots, and matching modest heels. She knew it was tame compared to what the Director saw every night at his club, but for her it was daring; form-fitting up top and showing cleavage.
"Yes," said the Director. "If you're willing to do me a favor." They sat in a private booth at Smythe and Weston, an expensive steakhouse.
"Can't you just make me?" Sandy asked.
"Possibly. It's rather important that I don't, however."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the one who I control least," said the Director.
"Will it get Julie Ann into trouble?" Julie Ann was her sister.
"No. I think it will help her. In fact, I'm acting for the benefit of all the women who have received my particular kind of help."
"You know you could make me help you, by threatening my sister."
"I'm not that kind of man."
Sandy nodded. "And that's why I'll help. What did you have in mind? Is there cum involved?"
"Yes, there is," said the Director. "And that's another reason I thought of you." He slid a driver's license across the table. It showed Sandy; in fact, it was identical to the picture on her real license. How he got it, she didn't know. She looked it over, and it was a perfect forgery. The name on it, however, was different. "Margo Cranston."
"So I'm Margo Cranston, now?"
The Director nodded. "And I'm Alfred Cranston. We've bought tickets to a very expensive swinger club called Night Moves. The kind of place where they serve caviar to the rich while they rich swap their wives. Kent is a multi-millionaire who runs a computer security company. You're his second wife, eighteen years younger. You have a voracious sexual appetite which Kent wants to see indulged."
Sandy smiled. "Sounds like an interesting scenario. Doesn't sound like we'll have any problems finding takers."
"No. But we're after one particular taker. He will be there as Dante Palermo, and I'm not sure who will accompany him, but I am hoping he will propose a swap."
"You want me to have sex with him?" Sandy asked. "That's not—I mean, I love cum, and you've gotten me to admit that, but I'm still saving intercourse for marriage."
The Director shook his head. "No. He might be interested. We might say yes. But you are always at liberty to stop at anytime, and my intention is for it not to get that far."
"So what's the plan, precisely?"
The Director filled her in.
They showed up at Night Moves on Friday night. It wasn't like a usual club, just a large room on the second floor of a gigantic town house downtown. There were nearly twenty people there. Waitresses in French Maid outfits offered hors d'oeuvres and put up with the occasional leer or grope from the patrons.
Sandy had done her research. Night Moves advertised on several Swinger social sites. Its main barrier to entry was its high cover charge. The wealthy preferred to associate with their own kind, but if you wanted to dress up and pay through the nose you could be one of them for the evening.
Al and Margo Cranston were real people. Sandy resembled Margo well enough, once made up, and she was wearing a dress identical to one Margo had been photographed in: a black cocktail dress with deep cleavage and a hem that came to mid-thigh. Her date was the spitting image of Al. He must have been wearing contacts because the Director's remarkable gray eyes were now blue. Even his accent was different. When he'd picked her up, even Julie Ann hadn't recognized him.
"There he is," whispered "Al." "Third guy on the left, with the platinum blonde."
"She's got a ring on, she's his wife?"
"She's someone's wife, but not his. But she's his date, not someone he just picked up. Her name is Flora. Make sure he sees you, but don't try to obviously flirt with him. Find an excuse to lean over and give him a good view, then join me at a table. I'll get drinks for both of us."
"I would think you'd want to keep your wits about you at a place like this," said Sandy.
"Most swingers drink to reduce their inhibitions, and to be able to say the alcohol made them do it. You should know something about needing help with inhibitions."
Sandy reflected on the Director's words as he went to the bar to buy cocktails. Only under the influence of the Director's power had she been able to admit her fantasies. That had resulted in a night whose memories she'd masturbated to ever since. Men had jerked off on her in the middle of the Director's club. She didn't even know how many, or who they all were. She knew that someday she'd want to do it again, but for now the memories of having done it once were enough.
Now, how to find a reason to bend over. She meandered a bit, looking around, trying not to let her gaze drift to Dante.
"Strawberry, madame?" said one of the Latina "maids." She had a small basket full. "Madame" seemed strange with a Mexican accent.
"Sure," Sandy said, and reached to the basket.
"Oh, madame, I feed it to you," said the girl, and hastily reached into the basket herself.
Perfect, thought Sandy. She didn't stop reaching until she had a strawberry. As the girl lifted a strawberry to her lips, she let their arms collide, and dropped hers.
For a moment, the girl froze, unsure whether to pick up the dropped strawberry or feed the one in her hand to Sandy first. Sandy leaned forward and bit into the succulent fruit, and the girl dutifully held it until Sandy had eaten all but the last bit around the leaves.
"Another one," Sandy said. Then Sandy leaned over and picked up the one that had fallen, before the girl could react.
There, that should give Dante a good view.
She straightened and let the girl feed her another strawberry from the basket.
I have to remember I'm a rich trophy wife. I can't run this over to the trash can myself.
She handed the dropped fruit to the girl and said, "You'll want to throw this away."
"Yes, madame." The girl took it from her.
Sandy looked around. She saw her "husband" heading to a table with drinks. She waited for him to sit down before heading that way, giving the room another scan. Hopefully she looked like she was looking for prospects, as a swinger might. Until she met the Director she'd been a conservative church-goer. She was out of her element, but excited by what might happen. At one table, two couples were talking excitedly about something. Their heads were bent forward and their eyes were flicking from one person to the other. Were they about to swap spouses? The idea would have seemed outrageous to her not long ago, but now she found the idea arousing.
She sat down with the Director and waited. He looked nothing like he had when she had met him at the club, or at the restaurant. Julie Ann had mentioned that he was a master of disguise, but she was surprised at how perfect it was. Still, it seemed unlikely that any particular person would come over and talk to them if they just waited at a table. Sandy didn't think she was the most attractive woman there, even though she'd never felt sexier. Well, except for that time she was covered with cum.
