Take Me To Bed. Joan Elizabeth Lloyd. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Joan Elizabeth Lloyd
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Эротическая литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780758237200
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for first times in bed together. It’s the greatest kick in the world.”

      “Wow. That’s quite an attitude.”

      “I guess, but it’s one that Brian and I share completely. We have a deal that if something makes one of us uncomfortable, either about what we are doing ourself or what the other is doing, we talk about it and decide how to rearrange things, if necessary.”

      “Has he ever been jealous? Have you?”

      “Once in a while one of us becomes obsessed with someone for a short time. But it’s always hottest at the beginning and eventually it all cools.”

      Jessie hesitated. “Am I cramping your style?”

      “Of course not. There are a few couples in the neighborhood who get together for fun from time to time and we will, either with you or without, in the near future.”

      “Me?”

      “Yes, you. We’ve found quite a few honest, open kindred spirits.” She smiled. “You know, some people who claim to be open-minded have said to me, ‘Just don’t tell my wife the details. I don’t want her to know about….’ Honest my foot. They have more secrets than the FBI. We don’t find that type of person very congenial.”

      “Hey, girls, your lord and master is home,” a voice yelled from the front hall.

      “Hi lord and master,” Steph yelled back. “Bring a wineglass. We’re killing a bottle of chardonnay and need an accomplice.”

      “Let me change and I’ll be right in.”

      “You really found the best one,” Jessie said wistfully.

      “I know I did. But he didn’t make out badly in the deal.”

      Jessie’s head snapped up. “I didn’t mean….”

      Steph laughed. “Of course you didn’t. You know you could talk to Brian about all this too.”

      “Talk to Brian? I’d be too embarrassed.”

      “Nonsense. He can tell you better than I can how he feels about it all.”

      “I don’t think I’m up to discussing this with him just yet.”

      “Do you mind if I tell him that we talked?”

      “I guess not. It’s just so, I don’t know, so intimate.”

      “That it is. And try not to treat him differently because you know what’s going on.”

      “That will be a tall order. I never dreamed there was a tiger under that teddy bear.”

      At that moment, Brian walked in, wearing a pair of form-fitting swim trunks and carrying a wineglass. The two women burst out laughing. “Okay,” Brian said, filling his glass, “what’s the joke?”

      “We were just talking about what could be hiding under your teddy bear exterior.” Steph took a minute to control her laughter. “Then you walk in in those tight little nothings you’re wearing and we know you can’t hide a thing.”

      Brian looked down at his body with its heavy black hair. “Okay, ladies, now I’m insulted. Teddy bear indeed. I’ve always wanted to be a centerfold.” He posed with his arms flexed. “A sex symbol. Like Burt Reynolds.”

      “You’re my sex symbol darling,” Steph giggled.

      Brian walked over and gave his wife a kiss on the top of her head then started toward the pool. “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll just take this teddy bear body and go for a swim. Join me?”

      “Sure.” The two women followed Brian to the pool and while he swam laps, Jessie and Steph talked about gardening.

      As he swam, Jessie watched Brian’s shoulders. He always did have great shoulders, she thought. He fools around. With other women. She watched his huge hands cut through the water. Now stop that, she told herself as a warm flush spread through her body. That’s Stephanie’s husband you’re leering at. But, she said to herself, he fools around with Steph’s permission. Interesting.

      The following day was Wednesday, matinee day in Manhattan. Steph knocked on Jessie’s door and Jessie called, “Come on in.” She stood in her bra and panties, rummaging in the dresser drawers for a clean polo shirt.

      “Good,” Steph said, one hand buried in the pocket of her flowered terrycloth robe. “I caught you before you got dressed. Put on your best city duds, I’ve got a treasure.” She raised her hand and waved a small white envelope. “Phantom of the Opera. This very afternoon. Two tickets, row eight.”

      “Oh Steph. I’ve wanted to see that show for ages.” She slammed the dresser drawer and opened the closet door. “City duds. How’s the outfit I arrived in?”

      “Just fine,” Steph said, looking at her watch. “I’d like to make the ten o’clock train. We can lunch someplace nice, then go to the theater. I’ll give Brian a call and he can meet us for an outrageous dinner.”

      “Sounds terrific.”

      The day was perfect. The weather was unusually temperate for New York in late June, temperatures in the high seventies and low humidity. The two women window-shopped, ate a quick lunch at Twenty-One, and enjoyed the theater. Brian met them at Le Cirque and the three spent hours gorging themselves on fine food and memorable wine. After dinner, Jessie snuck out to the maitre d’ and secretly gave him her credit card. When Brian asked for the check, the waiter nodded toward Jessie. “The madam has already taken care of it.”

      “Jessie, you shouldn’t have.”

      “That’s to say thank you for everything. You’re the best friends anyone could ever have and I’m grateful.”

      Brian stood up, walked around to Jessie’s chair and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “You’re our best friend and we love you.” He slid the tip of his finger up the nape of Jessie’s neck, ending just below her tight French knot. A shiver slithered down Jessie’s spine.

      Thursday, Steph spent the day at the hospital and, since Brian had a business dinner, the two women ate in the kitchen, dressed in shorts and T-shirts. “Oh lord, Steph,” Jessie said as her friend pulled a casserole dish out of the oven. “Franks and beans. I haven’t had franks and beans in…gosh, since we were in high school. Rob always said that beans gave him gas and he always watched his fat intake so franks were out.”

      “So? You never made some just for you?”

      Ruefully, Jessie shook her head. “You don’t have any of that brown spiced bread we used to have, do you?”

      Steph pulled the cylinder of deep brown, spicy bread from the microwave. “Only ze best for ze madam,” she said in a bad, mock French accent.

      Over coffee, Steph said, “Jessie, I’d like to invite some friends over to meet you on Tuesday night. That’s the Fourth of July. Just a few couples we know and particularly like. I think you’ll like them too.”

      “Couples you and Brian fool around with?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jessie regretted them. “I’m sorry.”

      “That’s okay. And the answer is yes and no. I’d like to invite three couples, nice normal everyday folks, one of whom we’ve swapped with, two we haven’t. I challenge you to figure out which couple we’ve swapped with. I had intended to invite two single men so you wouldn’t find the evening so couples-oriented but one of them, a wonderful man named Gary, is out of town. You will get to meet him too, eventually. He’s a very long story, but suffice it to say that he gives the best parties. You’ll have to attend one with us some evening. I know you’ll like the other man I’ve invited. Eric Langden’s a doll, divorced and gorgeous. And no, I’ve never been with either Gary or Eric. Exactly.”

      Jessie let that final remark pass, for the moment. “Are you trying to fix me up?”

      “Frankly,