It was February 14th, and I was reduced to attending my Aunt Catherine's annual Valentine's Day party. Two weeks prior, my boyfriend of two years had dumped me, so I had no one to celebrate with. It would have been humiliating to go to one of those Single on Valentine's Day nights that bars have. It would also have been too humiliating to stay home.
It wasn't a total loss since my Aunt had always been great at throwing parties. The booze flowed freely, and the food was always good. She drew about 200 people to her palatial eight-bedroom (not counting the pool house) beach house. I would call it a mansion, but she insisted it was just a beach house. She hired DJs (plural) and had professional lighting and sound.
Before heading over, I took extra time on my hair and makeup. I knew my Aunt would have lots of men in attendance. Hopefully, that meant some attractive young men. My wavy blonde hair was feathered and styled like a modernized version of Farrah Fawcett. I wanted my makeup to be radiant but not too heavy. For a fresh look, I used a hydrating primer, medium-coverage foundation, and brightening concealer. I added a creamy blush for a natural flush that accentuated my natural youthful look of a 21-year-old. I gave myself a shimmering eye. I topped it off with a pale pink matte lip gloss.
I wore a brown pleated leather mini skirt that showed off my toned legs from years of running. I paired that with an ivory sleeveless turtleneck crop top that showed off my toned abs from years of yoga and my jade belly button ring (the last gift my ex ever gave me). I topped that off with an oversized black bomber jacket to highlight my petite frame and combat the ocean breezes. I finished the look with knee-high leather boots. Cupid's arrow wouldn't be necessary with this outfit.
Underneath, I wore a sexy new set of lingerie I had bought as a gift for my boyfriend before he broke up with me. It was lacey green. The panties were a cheeky cut which I felt flattered my ass. The bra was a halter bralette that fit under my sleeveless crop top and provided the necessary support for my D-cup breasts. The thought of sharing his gift with another man tonight gave me more of a thrill than it should.
When I arrived, I was greeted by my Aunt and her husband in the foyer. My Aunt was stunning as usual. She wore a red corseted gown with lace sleeves that showed off her fake boobs and snatched waist. Her makeup and hair were flawless. I am sure a team of professionals did them.
Her husband, Javy, was handsome as ever. He wore a white dinner jacket and black tuxedo pants that fit flawlessly. They highlighted his broad shoulders and v-shaped physique. His thick thighs and muscular ass filled out his pants. His naturally olive skin was well-tanned. He was outrageously handsome, like a Cuban Jon Hamm.
The two of them made a stunning couple. They looked like they just walked out of a magazine. My Aunt was a former model and current fitness influencer/mommy blogger. She loved being the center of attention. Between her looks and her outgoing personality, she almost always was. She looked younger than her 36 years. I always wondered how much of it was the thousand she spent on skincare and how much was her access to cosmetic surgery.
Javy, at 39, was the youngest senior partner at the most successful law firm in South Florida. He was the perfect Ken to Catherine's Barbie. He was the perfect complement. Where she sought the spotlight, he avoided it. Not due to shyness or a lack of social skills but out of preference. He shined in one-on-one interactions. His natural curiosity and his disarming charm made him a great conversationalist. When you spoke with him, you felt like the only person in the world. Traits that served him well as one of the preeminent deal markers in the state.
"Candy, you came! I am so happy you are here," Catherine gushed as she hugged me and kissed my cheek.
"Thanks, Aunt Catherine. Thank you for inviting me."
"What have I told you about calling me 'Aunt Catherine?' Only your mother calls me that. Please, just 'Cat.'"
Cat thinks Catherine sounds old, which I am pretty sure is why my mom always calls her that. They don't have the best relationship. They are half-sisters separated by 13 years of age. Cat was the result of my grandfather knocking up the nanny. My grandmother and mother never forgave her despite it not being her fault.
"Sorry, Cat. Uncle Javy, thanks for having me," I said as I hugged Javy and kissed him on the cheek. I hugged Javy a beat too long. It felt so good to have his muscular body pressed against mine and his strong arms around me.
It was only two weeks since my break up, and I was already missing the touch of a man. Since I was a junior in high school, I hadn't gone more than a week without a boyfriend. I had two long-term boyfriends in high school with a week break in between. I broke up with my high school boyfriend the day before going to college. I had a new boyfriend four days later. I broke up with him a year later. Two days later my current ex asked me out on our first date.
Part of this was driven by my natural boy craziness. I was always getting crushes on boys growing up. The other part is my natural horniness. If I had my way, I'd probably have sex daily, twice on weekends. My ex had joked that I was the living embodiment of "be careful what you wish for." Pair that with my discomfort with hooking up with guys outside of a relationship, and you have a recipe for a serial monogamist. I've had sex thousands of times but all of it with just four boyfriends.
"Candy, you look fantastic. I can't get over your skinny little waist. Have you been using that skinny tea I gave you? If you need more, check the link on my Instagram," Cat gushed.
"Will do, Cat."
"Get yourself some champagne. I am so sorry to hear about your break-up, but we have lots of single men here," Cat insisted before turning to address the next guest arriving.
I walked into the party and was immediately greeted by a waiter dressed as Cupid with a tray of Krug Vintage Brut and another with caviar on toast. I walked around scanning the crowd for eligible men. Unfortunately, the only men without women on their arms were all old enough to be my father.
Over the next two hours, I listened to a 65-year-old divorced lawyer speak about his boat for 15 minutes straight. A recently separated 50-year-old banker lectured me on proper feminine behavior when in the presence of a "true alpha." I was given a full rundown of the benefits of a high-protein/high-fiber diet by a newly divorced 48-year-old stockbroker on coke. A "married but open to new experiences" 53-year-old accountant pitched me on crypto and asked if I could sell him some molly. It was hard to believe so many desirable men could be in one spot. Maybe I did need Cupid's arrow if these were my choices.
After giving the accountant directions to the coked-out stockbroker, I roamed the party for a new conversation partner. I heard my Aunt's loud laughter and saw her holding court in a circle of six other women.
As I entered the circle, my Aunt loudly introduced me: "Look, ladies, this is my beautiful niece Candy. Can you believe some college boy would dump such a beauty?"
All the hens clucked in astonishment.
"Candy, what reason did this boy give you?" slurred Aunt Cat as she finished her martini and signaled the waiter to bring another.
"He said he needed space, but apparently, space included hooking up with a freshman cheerleader three days after ending it with me."
"Oh, Candy, you poor girl. You're better off without him. Young boys can be so fickle..." Aunt Cat paused and a smile crept across her lips which usually meant she had discovered a way to segue the conversation back to her.
"You know what you need? A sugar daddy. When I was your age, I had an amazing affair with my poetry professor. He was a rugged Spaniard. So passionate. And no one takes care of a young woman better than an older man. He took me on trips to Spain and Argentina. He bought me jewelry and beautiful dresses. It was magical. No college boy could compare."
"Cat, if you have a single, rugged, Spanish poet around here that you haven't introduced me to, I will be furious," one of Cat's friends joked.
"Well, he wasn't exactly single when we had our affair," Cat said with a smirk.
"You dirty little slut. You had an affair with a married man?" her friend asked with faux shock.
"Of course, darling, I was young. It was the early aughts. 'Sex and the City' was at its peak. Married men were very trendy," Cat joked.
"As a woman who is now married to a handsome, charming man, do you look back on it any differently? I assume you wouldn't be happy with Javy having a sugar baby."
"Hmmm, you know what? I don't have any regrets. Raul, that was his name... Raul's wife didn't take care of his needs. If you aren't taking care of your man, you have to expect things to happen. This isn't to say all cheaters are justified. Just you have to take care of your man and Javy is well taken care of."
"Did you have any other affairs with married men or just Raul?" her friend asked with a little extra accent on "Raul."
"Oh, I had a few. My first boss after college. One of my dad's friends who had a really nice ski house. Maybe one or two others. But none were sugar daddies like Raul who took good care of me physically, emotionally, and financially. The day he went back to Spain was the saddest day of my young life. I thought my heart would never mend."
"How did you get over him?" I asked.
"I tried a few things, but the thing that really did it was finding a man with a big cock who knew how to use it," she said with a drunk giggle.
"Does Uncle Javy know about any of these guys?" I asked with a giggle.
"Know them?! Javy is the guy with a big cock. When you find a guy that good in the sack, you lock him down," Cat said with a flourish as the other women laughed. Sensing that she had hit a high note, she excused herself to attend to other guests.
I was shocked by my Aunt's stories. First, I was shocked that she would tell a group of other women that her husband was good in bed. I always downplayed my boyfriends to other girls. I didn't want them trying to steal my man.
My ex was pretty well endowed and had no performance issues, but if it came up in conversation with my friends, I tried to damn him with faint praise. If asked about his size, I'd say something like, "He's big enough, I guess." If asked about how often he had issues getting it up, I'd say, "It doesn't happen too often. No more than usual, I think."
Second, I was shocked by her open admission to sleeping with married men, especially her lack of guilt given she is a married woman now. I am not going to lie, I found the idea intriguing. I've had fantasies about married men in the past, but I never gave them much consideration. The idea of being with a guy with his shit together and sexual experience certainly has a draw. The idea of sneaking around has a draw, too.
I couldn't believe I was actually considering this, but I was a bit drunk and a lot horny.
