By
AdamGunn2
It was a fairly typical night at D.J.s Island, an early autumn evening. Mary and I hadn’t set anything up in advance, we’d decided to go almost at the last moment. From the second we entered the door our radar was beaming across the club, searching for a couple that might be searching for what we were also interested in - an enjoyable tryst.
Mary took a few minutes to change into what she called a ‘trolling outfit.’ As I remember, that night it was a black babydoll with a loose bodice, thong, low heels. Many men admired her legs as I checked the forty or so women, many as scantily clad as my wife. None of our regular playmates seemed to be in attendance that evening, but we had our customs, we weren’t concerned. Perhaps an hour and a half later, I sat at a table next to the dance floor, Mary was on her feet, on the parquet, moving her body, seeing if anyone would move in. A slow sequence of men approached her, danced with her. Some would take liberties such as moving their hands under her garment, feeling the small of her back, perhaps place their palm on the roundness of her ass.
I’d seen this many times before, I waited for one of two reactions.
The first was that she’d spin away from the man; it signified she wasn’t interested in what he had to offer.
The second was that she’d get closer, I’d watch her whisper in his ear. I knew the question, “Where’s your wife?” Some of them would shake their heads, they were attending as one of the few single men the club allowed, and when they received Mary’s response, they’d move away - that’s not what we were looking for at the moment.
But the man might indicate where his wife was dancing a few feet away. When this kind of thing happened, Mary would glance to me and give our special signal - she’d put one hand on the back of her head, one on her stomach. When I got the cue, I’d come out, we’d dance as a foursome.
As I approached, a man grasped the elbow of a tall attractive lady who was more modestly dressed, at least for the club. There was no conversation on the dance floor, the heavy volume of music and the thumping of the bass wouldn’t allow for speech. But I could tell the woman was interested in me, the four of us paired off and I often found myself facing this vixen. It was obvious they were as interested in us as I was in them, I could tell by the way Mary was rubbing against the man that she felt the same.
After a couple of songs, Mary led the way off the floor, holding his hand, leading us off into a corner away from the speakers. As we sat, the man said, “I’m Ed, this is my wife, Marilyn.”
Marilyn and I softly shook hands, I believe she raised the hem of her skirt to give me a view of her upper thighs. Ed had no problem seeing Mary’s legs, or where they met - she was sitting so that the babydoll was gathered to her side, leaning forward so her globes were exposed to his view.
“Do you come here often?” Ed asked.
“Every few weeks,” I responded, “you?”
“This is our first time here.” Mary gave him a look that asked for further info. “We’re just starting this,” he admitted.
Marilyn picked it up. “We’ve only had one time with a couple of friends. We liked it, heard about this place, decided to see if we could get into more trouble.”
“Trouble’s our middle name,” I joked.
Our conversation continued, where do you live, what movies have you seen lately, etc. It was a screen, of course, we were all calculating if the four of us would be pleasurable bedmates. I paid my attention to Marilyn, my wife had told me numerous times not to worry about her, she can take care of herself. My hand found Marilyn’s knee, she smiled at me, encouraged me to reach a tad higher. We bent towards each other, our mouths met.
Marilyn opened her lips to me, the kiss was ardent, her mouth moist. She licked at my upper lip, her hand fondled the back of my neck. Our tongues clashed, promising cupidity, mimicking what I presumed our bodies might be doing in a few scant moments.
We broke for a moment, Marilyn invited, “Would you guys want to go to one of the rooms?”
I, of course, was all for it, but then I heard Mary. “Uh, not right now. But thanks.”
We’ve always had the guideline that if one person doesn’t want to do something, she speaks for both of us. Regretfully, I pecked at Marilyn’s lips a last time, we stood, went separate ways.
“You’re not upset, are you?” Mary asked me.
“Of course not, not at all. You’re not in the mood?”
“Oh, I’m in the mood all right, just not with Ed.”
“Something wrong with him?” I asked.
“I tried to get him interested,” Mary revealed, “but his kiss was a little cold, indifferent. I put my hand on his leg, he was too busy watching you and Marilyn, he never responded. My guess is that if we went into a room, he’d be watching you two, I’m not even sure he’d get hard for me.” It was a reasonable thought, it had happened to us a couple times before. “Hope you don’t mind, bet she’d have been a firecracker.”
“Maybe. But you’re a firecracker too.”
We headed back to the dance floor, in search of another couple.
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