The Party Favor

by Robert Lubrican

zbookstore Edition

Copyright 2012 Robert Lubrican

Second Edition 2025

License Notes

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Rights to use cover art purchased at iStock.com

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Foreword

Authors often write "in the opposition to" accepted societal norms. Philosophers do the same thing. In fact, both have been killed by the powers that be, for speaking out in that manner. Thankfully, that's not so common any more. At least not where I come from.

And so, being an author, as well as a philosopher, I decided to try to imagine a situation in which marital cheating might end up being a good thing. I'm not talking about the cheater feeling justified, though that is usually what most cheaters try to do. Rather, I was thinking more along the lines of someone doing what was within their control, to live the best life they could, while understanding - eventually - that sometimes reality trumps morality. And that sometimes "the moral thing" isn't always as "good" as we want to claim it is.

Morality is always complicated - always. Black and white is easy, but nothing in life is actually black and white. Self defense is an excellent example. Everybody would say that killing a human being is wrong. That's from the black and white perspective. But most people would also say that killing the person who is threatening your life, or that of your loved ones, is acceptable ... maybe even laudable. That's how black and white gets complicated. That said, all I ask you to do is read without preconceived biases ... if you can.

 

Bob

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter One

Jennifer Windham was the picture of success and happiness. But as anyone who is familiar with Photoshop is aware, pictures should almost never be taken at face value. Such was the situation when it came to Jennifer.

She was thirty-five and in fabulous condition, thanks to having plenty of time to exercise. Said workouts involved Jazzercise, Pilates and other "fad" workouts, initially, until she figured out that running four miles a day took care of everything and was a lot cheaper. Not that money was a problem. Her husband, Roger, made plenty of that. Of course he spent half of every month out of town and when he was home he worked twelve hours a day, six days a week to make all that money. And, with a schedule like that, if he wasn't at work he was sleeping, or if it was Sunday, playing golf or networking in some other manner. Roger was an attorney and his specialty was real estate.

It hadn't been that frenetic when they were younger, which was probably why he was able to get her pregnant once. Her little bundle of joy turned out to be a girl who was the light of her life until she turned thirteen. Tiffany was her name, and it was prophetic, because she liked the kinds of things Tiffany and Company made. Of course Tiffany was aware that daddy was filthy rich, so she assumed she could have anything her heart desired. When Jennifer tried to correct that misunderstanding, Daddy came to Tiffany's rescue, actually telling her she could have anything she wanted. It wasn't long before daughter and father had teamed up against mother enough times that mother threw up the white flag and had to watch her daughter turn into a train wreck, waiting to happen.

Of course the public was never privy to that problem. Tiffany had lots of friends, most of whom also got pretty much whatever they wanted. As they say, birds of a feather flock together.

Jennifer was, therefore, left without a daughter to raise through her teenaged years. She compensated by volunteering. She volunteered at the Library, at the civic theater, and even at a homeless shelter in the soup kitchen, which turned out to be her most favorite volunteer job of all. Until Roger put his foot down and said it was too sordid and dangerous to "traffic with those bums and vagrants." She would have gone to church, but Roger only went on the obligatory days, Easter and Christmas, and he said it would look bad if she went alone. Eventually she put her college degree in accounting to good use by volunteering to do the books of various charities in town.

There were parties, of course, most of them related to Roger's job at the firm. She had her network of women she called "friends" who she caught up with at such parties. She kept herself busy enough during the week that she didn't hobnob with the other wealthy wives, except at parties, or awards dinners or things like that. It wasn't that she didn't like the other women. She would have liked to know some of them a lot better. But to be honest, she felt slightly out of her element when she was with these expensively dressed and elaborately coifed women.

She herself was one of the lucky women who had flawless skin that looked great without a speck of makeup on it. Her eyebrows rose to graceful tips that made her look slightly inquisitive. Her nose was strong and looked like it came from noble blood, somehow. Green eyes always mesmerized someone she was talking to, if she looked at them long enough for those eyes to register. She rarely did, though. She didn't understand why people stared into her eyes with such intensity and she felt like they could see into the place she kept her secrets.

Of course if it was a man she was talking to he wasn't looking into her eyes, most likely. Her figure was lush, well-toned and shapely. Her high, firm breasts had never fed her daughter. Roger was disgusted by women nursing and was of the opinion it should be against the law to be seen doing it. She had wanted her baby to have the best milk, but of course the idea of using a breast pump on her breasts wouldn't fly with her husband and she couldn't do it without him finding out about it. In the end, formula had been so much easier.

When she'd had Tiffany her hips had spread and then stayed that way. She literally had an hourglass figure which, unknown to her, a lot of the other wives were insanely jealous of. All in all, her simple, natural beauty was a magnet to the men, and the women's attitude toward her was reflected in that.

She was closer to a few women than the others, though, among them a woman named Brandi Templeton. Brandi was a few years older than Jennifer and came from old money. Why she had taken Jennifer under her wing was a surprise to both women, but she had. It wasn't a close friendship, exactly, but it was a warm one whenever they got together. That was usually for backyard cookouts, at which the men touted their knowledge of how to cook meat to perfection, tried to drink more beer than each other, and extolled on their immense worth to the world in general. The women usually sat around gossiping, watching the children swim in the back yard pool, and drank vibrantly colored mixed drinks with exotic names.

It was, in fact, at one such barbeque, that Jennifer Windham overheard something that would change her life forever, not to mention that of a number of other people, both present and absent from the gathering.

What she overheard was when Judy Denton leaned towards Kathy Nelson and said "Have you gotten your invitation yet?"

"No," pouted Kathy. "But Brandi promised it would be arriving soon."

"I got mine." Judy preened. "I'm going to try to lose five pounds. I'd just die of embarrassment if I had to show up at her birthday party like this."

Kathy waved a hand. "Don't be silly. It's not a contest, you know."

"It will be if I get fat," said Judy.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. We've been to how many of her birthday parties? Three? Did you ever fail to have a fabulous time?"

"Of course not," said Judy. She seemed to blush for some reason.

"Well you won't this time either. I'm so excited myself I can hardly wait!"

A minor disruption between children broke out, and the two women went to deal with that, leaving Jennifer to reflect on the fact that she had never been invited to even one of Brandi's birthday parties, while the two women she had just overheard talking had been to three. She felt both disillusioned and left out.

Her mood was ruined, but not enough that she was willing to confront Brandi about it.

Then things escalated when Tiffany waltzed up to her and said, "This is lame. Denise and I are going to the Mall."

"How are you getting there?" asked Jennifer automatically.

"Todd is going to take us," she said.

"I don't think so," said Jen. Todd was a twenty-one year old college boy with a reputation for being out of control. He had even propositioned her one time, saying he had something in his pants that would ruin her for all other men for the rest of her life.

"Daddy said we could go," said Tiffany in that singsong voice she so often used when she was trumping her mother's decision.

"You didn't tell your father how you were getting there, did you?" said Jen.

"He said we can go!" The girl actually stamped one foot.

"You're fifteen!" said Jen, her voice tight. "That boy is twenty-one."

"Are you calling him a rapist?" Tiffany's voice had risen to the point that people were beginning to look their way. Jen felt anger that her daughter was so selfish ... and stupid!

Brandi wandered over.

"Hi Jen. Hi, Tiffany," she said. Just her tone of voice suggested rebuke.

"I'm going to the mall!" yelled Tiffany, and, with her nose in the air, she marched off.

It was the utter frustration of trying to deal with her teenaged daughter that made Jennifer lash out at her friend.

"And why haven't you invited me to your birthday party?" she almost yelled.

A deep voice said, "Birthday party? I didn't know you were having a birthday party, dear."

Both women turned to see that they had been joined by Brad, Brandi's husband.

"It's just a little gathering of friends," said Brandi, her face smooth. "We're going to get together for drinks, that's all."

"Shall I send a gift?" asked the man. Jennifer stared at him. He was the woman's husband and he was asking if he should send her a birthday present to a party he wasn't going to be at. It was incredible. Jennifer looked around and the world she lived in seemed to sparkle, as if it weren't a real place but was instead a dream of some kind.

Her reverie was broken by Brandi's hand squeezing her elbow painfully as she was dragged to a place where no one could hear them.

"He doesn't know about the birthday parties!" hissed Brandi. "And you're not supposed to know either! How did you find out?"

Her face was angry, something Jennifer had never seen before. Brandi was always smiling, always happy and carefree.

"I just heard Kathy mention it to Judy."

"Those bitches!" said Brandi vehemently. "Talking about it in public? I should take them off the list!"

"What's going on?" asked Jennifer, frowning. She had never seen Brandi act like this. Never!

The woman's face smoothed over, and suddenly she was the same old Brandi, smiling and happy.

"It's nothing. It's just been a little secret, that's all. We get so few secrets in life, and if people ... if the men found out ... well it would be ruined, that's all. It's boring, really, come to think of it. That's why I never invited you. I knew you'd be bored to tears."

The whole speech rang false in Jennifer's ears. Now that she knew there was this other side to Brandi, the side that sounded almost vicious and vengeful, she listened with more than just her ears. She was astonished to find that it gave her a kind of power she'd never had. Emboldened, she spoke.

"Don't try to con me. What's going on, Brandi? If you're worried I'll go squeal to Brad, then don't. You know I wouldn't betray our friendship."

Brandi turned her eyes from the little groups of people she had been casually watching, and faced Jennifer. Her eyes were clear and there was no mirth on her face.

"You don't want to know," she said simply. "It's not your kind of thing, Jen. Trust me. I know you. You're a good girl, and these parties are where we let our bad girls out for a little while."

"I can be bad too," said Jennifer automatically. She was reminded of a time in grade school when she got into an argument with Ruth Ann Higgs over who could eat the most candy. Each one kept upping the quantities until it was ridiculous.

Brandi snorted. "You're a nice woman, Jen. Keep it that way. You don't want to come to my birthday party."

"Yes I do!" said Jennifer angrily. "Why does everybody always think they can tell me what I can and can't do? My own daughter won't listen to me! I want to come to your fucking party!" The last was said so loud that Brandi's hand came up, almost touching Jennifer's lips.

"Okay!" she hissed. "Okay," she said again, her voice lower. "But hear me now. You have to swear that you'll never mention what you see to anyone. Anyone! Not even me! Do you understand?"

"What do you mean?" asked Jennifer, confused. "You'll be there!"

Brandi put her face just inches from Jennifer's. "You must promise never to say a word to anyone. That's the deal. If you can't promise that, then you can't come, and I don't care who you complain to about it. If you talk about this to anyone, I'll just cancel the party. That's the deal, Jen."

"Okay," said Jennifer slowly. "I don't get it ... but okay."

"Oh, you'll get it," sighed Brandi. "But you may wish you hadn't browbeat me into letting you come."

Jennifer, with visions of truth or dare in her mind, suppressed a giggle. "When and where?" she asked.

"Brad and I have a hunting cabin up on at Silver Lake," she said. "The festivities start at seven, the Friday after this one. I'll send you directions in the mail. It's a sleepover. No cameras allowed, including your cell phone. If you bring a phone, it gets locked up until the party's over."

"What do I tell Roger?" asked Jen.

"That's your problem," said Brandi. "Just make sure it's good enough that he doesn't get suspicious and follow you or something."

"Why would he do that? I'm only going to a party."

"This isn't like any party you've ever been to, Jennifer. Trust me on that. Just remember you made me invite you."

"What should I wear?"

Brandi looked out at the crowd, and then back at Jen.

"It doesn't matter. Come as you are."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

For the next two weeks Jennifer was uncharacteristically excited. The directions Brandi had spoken of came tucked into a friendship card. Roger never even gave the lavender envelope a glance. Friday, while Tiffany was in school and Roger was at work, she packed a small overnight bag and put it in the trunk of her Mercedes. Then she tried to paint, setting up her easel on the patio and putting a pot full of pansies on the table to render on the canvas.

But her heart wasn't in it. She was even glad when Tiffany came home, because it gave her something to do.

"What would you like for dinner tonight?" she asked.

Tiffany waved a hand. "Nothing. I'm going over to Brenda's. It's a sleepover, so I'll eat there."

"Brenda's mother didn't call me," said Jennifer.

"You are so forties, Mom," sighed her daughter. "You don't have to have a formal invitation to sleepover these days."

"Still, it's only polite to let me know it's going to happen."

"Well I just did, Okay? Can't you ever let me do anything without coming down on me? Jeeze, you act like I'm ten!"

The phone rang then. It was Roger, telling her he had to work late, and that he'd order in. She told him she'd be gone overnight and he simply said "Okay. I'll see you when you get back."

She fumed, alone in the house, for hours. Slowly, the thought that she was going to go do something fun ... something sneaky ... something secret ... maybe even something mildly naughty ... lifted her spirits. Suddenly she couldn't wait to get there.

She was lucky she didn't get a speeding ticket on the way to the party.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Hunting cabin" seemed a little insufficient to describe what she saw when she rounded the last curve of the mile-long driveway. She had had to punch in a security code to get the big iron gates open. They stood between massive stone pillars that anchored a nine foot fence that went out of sight in both directions. Two hundred yards past the gate, however, there was no evidence of civilization other than the road, and it stressed the suspension of her Mercedes so much she had to keep it under twenty.

But when she finally saw the house, she didn't think of hunting at all. It was big, two stories, and looked like something entire families had been raised in for at least a hundred years. The lower level was made of stone, with logs forming the walls above that. A huge circular driveway serviced broad front steps that led up to a covered veranda. Oaken double doors, nine feet tall, gave entry into the "cabin."

The place blazed with light and there were cars everywhere, parked willy nilly, with no attempt at any organization. Some of them looked like they had simply been abandoned by someone in such a hurry that to find a proper parking spot was too much to bear. She pulled up beside Janice Hawkins' BMW and turned off her engine. She saw a young man approach the driver's door of one car. It was hanging open, and she could hear the insistent chiming that signaled the keys had been left in that car. As she watched, he casually closed the door, as if that was actually his job. He looked over at her as and walked towards her. She thought briefly of valet parking, but disregarded that immediately. The cars hadn't really been parked, per se.

"Just leave the keys in it," said the young man as he approached. "If it needs to be moved, one of us will take care of it. Go have fun."

One of "us" turned out to be a group of ten or twelve more young men. She noticed all were athletic and handsome, without really thinking about that much. What consumed her curiosity more than anything was who they were and why so many were needed for ... whatever it was they were there for. All of them were sitting in Adirondack chairs, or leaning against the railing on the veranda. A couple were smoking. Most of them were talking to each other. They looked like a college football team just resting and hanging around.

As she stepped up onto the porch, though, all of them turned to look at her. It was as if they expected her to say something. Suddenly one of them came toward her. He had Asian features, though they were blurred, suggesting he was of mixed heritage. He was a couple of inches taller than her five foot-eight, with medium length brown hair and broad shoulders. He was wearing a T shirt that displayed his firm young body to its best advantage.

"Are you, by chance, Jennifer?" he asked, his voice soft and mellow.

"Yes," she said, startled that someone she knew she had never seen in her life might recognize her. "How did you know that?"

"Brandi described you. Killer legs, dark red hair, all woman ..." His eyes slowly slid down her body as he said this, making it obvious he was examining her as a male examines a female on a biological level. He leaned closer and stared into her eyes. "And green eyes a man could fall into. She said you were the kind of beautiful woman that other beautiful women hate, because you put them to shame. There can't be two women in this part of the world who fit that description, and you fit it to a tee. Ergo, I decided you must be Jennifer."

"Who are you?" she asked, feeling light-headed.

He took her hand, lifted it to his lips and brushed them across the back.

"I'm Josh. And if I'm acceptable ... I'm your party favor."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jennifer suddenly had a fleeting sense that, when she left the highway, she had entered some kind of strange, possibly alternative universe.

"My what?" Jennifer blinked. "Did you say party favor? I don't understand!"

"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "Brandi picked me because she said it's your first time at one of these parties. It's my first time too. A number of my ... um ... associates are regulars, and I guess she asked them for a special kind of guy. They tell me I'm him, but I don't know why."

"What are you talking about?" moaned Jennifer. He was still holding her hand, and she felt hot. She remembered her mother complaining about hot flashes, and wondered if that's what was happening to her. But she was much too young for that kind of thing.

"I'm not doing this very well at all," said Josh. "Let's step over here for a minute. You can catch your breath and I'll try to do a better job of explaining." He tugged on her hand.

She tugged back, uncertainty in her eyes now. She wasn't used to gorgeous, hunky young men paying her outrageous compliments, or kissing her hand ... or even holding her hand for that matter!

"Calm down," he said, his voice soothing. "I won't hurt you. Nobody here will hurt you. I know this is confusing, but I'll answer all your questions. And if I can't, I'll find somebody who can, okay? Nothing is going to happen without your express permission."

"You kissed my hand," she said, her voice breathy.

"It's just a continental greeting," he said.

"You're not continental. You're Asian."

"Is that a problem? Would you rather have a white man ... black man ... Hispanic? I think Raul is Cuban. Jack is Australian. What kind of man did you have in mind?"

"I didn't have any man in mind. I don't need a man!" she gasped. "I'm married!"

He blinked. Then he held up one finger in the universal sign that meant "One moment please." He didn't take the entire moment though, before he spoke.

"Let me guess. Brandi didn't tell you anything at all about this party ... did she." It was a statement, rather than a question.

"She said the girls get a little wild," said Jennifer, not wanting to sound completely clueless. "And do naughty things," she added.

"A little wild," he said, his voice flat. "Naughty? She just said naughty?"

"Yes," Jennifer said, her voice high and young. "She said I shouldn't come, but I insisted."

"I see," he said. "Okay. Let's try this. You don't know me from Adam." He blinked. "There's actually a guy here named Adam, come to think of it." He grinned. "You don't know me, but you can trust me. You are under my protection as of this moment, and will remain under my protection until you tell me you don't want it any longer. Is that acceptable?"

"Why would I need protection?" she asked. "This is all very strange. This is just a birthday party ... isn't it?"

"Yes, it's a birthday party, but it obviously isn't like any birthday party you've ever been to. And the reason you need protection is because you are the most beautiful woman on the premises, bar none. Trust me on that. I saw all the others go in. And the guys get a little worked up. The way I understand it, Brandi only does this once a year, on her birthday. When she looked me over she said something about this being her birthday present to herself. And the men who are here only do this once a year too. We're not in that kind of business, normally. Close, once in a while, but nothing like this. I only came because after hearing all the stories, and the guys saying I was this special guy for this special woman ... Well, I just had to see it just once, and ... um ... see this special woman."

The feeling of being in that alternative universe persisted as Jennifer's mind tried to concentrate on several things at once. One part reflected on what she'd heard and seen thus far, evaluating that. The other part saw his eyes flick down and up her body again, after which he licked his lips in a way that seemed unconscious. She realized he had just looked her over again, but not so blatantly this time. And based on his most recent behavior, that lightning quick 'once over' didn't offend her. If anything, she felt the flush of meeting a handsome man's approval.

Then she quashed that flush with a mental shake of her head. She wasn't there to be flattered!

"Maybe you need to tell me about these stories you've heard," said Jennifer. She was still confused, but it was clear now that things went a lot farther than naughty truth or dare. To be honest, it sounded like Brandi had given her this young man as a ... toy of some sort. She had no plans to engage in anything with him, of course, but at least he was calm and willing to talk to her. She didn't believe she needed any protection, and his lines about how beautiful she was were just laughable, but he seemed like a nice guy. And she did have questions.

"I think the easiest thing to do would be to simply take you for a little walk," said Josh.

"Not alone," she said.

He smiled. "Oh, we won't be alone. Trust me on that." He offered her his arm, and she took it. She was aware of her breast touching his bicep ... his amazingly muscular bicep. She suddenly felt hot again.

"What you need to know before we go inside," said Josh as they walked slowly back toward the veranda, "is that this is, for all intents and purposes, a sex party."

She stopped. He did too. "You mean like a swap meet?" she asked.

"No, more like what I've heard called a hen party, except this one is on steroids."

"But nobody's getting married. Isn't that what a hen party is all about?"

"I guess so. We dance at a lot of them, but this one goes way beyond that."

"Dance?"

"All the men you see here tonight are employees at Christy's Puppet Palace. We're exotic dancers. Most of us are working our way through college. Normally, sex with the customers is a big no-no, but Brandi has some kind of special relationship with the owner and she rents us once a year for her birthday party."

"You're telling me that the women she invites to her birthday parties have sex with strangers? Dancers?"

"Some of them are strangers. Some of the women choose the same party favor each year, until he graduates or stops dancing because he got married or whatever. Dancing is actually a very tough job. If you get out of shape, you're a goner."

"You said you were my party favor," said Jennifer.

"That's what Brandi calls us. She says she got us for them to play with. Each woman gets to choose one when she arrives. If there are leftovers, and from what I hear there always are, then they can choose another."

"To have sex with," said Jennifer, her voice flat.

"To do whatever she wants to with," said Josh. "The way I understand it, sometimes it's conventional sex, sometimes it's something else. Brandi has some kinky friends, based on the stories I hear. The only rule is that if anyone objects to something, then it's off limits. That goes for both the women and us guys. Other than that, the woman gets to call the shots. If that includes sex ... it does. If it doesn't ... it doesn't."

Jennifer stared into his eyes. Then she looked around.

"Where's the camera? I'm being punked, aren't I?" She grinned, and her face flushed. "Come on out, Brandi! I know you're watching this! I'm not falling for it. You'll have to try it on somebody else!"

But no one came from behind a bush, or out of the building. Instead, she heard a high-pitched squeal from within the structure. She felt, rather than heard the thump of the bass track of some music being played.

Josh held lifted his arm again. Hers was still tucked through his.

"Remember, you're perfectly safe with me," he said. "Shall we?"

Then he led her to the front door.

Chapter Two

When the door opened sound hit Jennifer in the face like a hot, damp towel. There was at once the noise of voices, yells, music and even the occasional scream. Smells were also in that noise-heavy air, the smell of food and other odors she couldn't identify right away.

They hadn't gotten ten feet before Susan Abernathy ran right in front of them laughing and screaming, topless, her breasts bouncing up and down as she was chased by a man with dark skin and blond hair. He had on only the male equivalent of a thong. The term "cock sock" burst in Jennifer's mind. Just as it registered in her brain that the cock in that sock had been ragingly erect, they were gone.

The entryway opened up on what looked like a formal dining room, with a long table piled high with food. Beyond that, and down three steps, was a huge living room that contained four couches and half a dozen love seats. There was a huge flat screen TV on one wall that was playing what was obviously a pornographic movie.

But what captured Jennifer's attention were the women in the room ... women she knew ... women she saw at school functions, and awards dinners ... women she chatted with at the hair salon, or gym. There, across the room, was Blanch Howard, who was her own age and who had a daughter who was Tiffany's age. She was naked ... bare ass naked! And what was worse there were two men nursing her breasts like they were twin babies. One of them had his hand between her legs. Her head was thrown back, her mouth open in rapture. And off to the left was Janet Wharton, who was topless, like Susan had been, sitting on a naked man's lap, straddling him. Her skirt covered her lower half, but the way she was rising and falling made it clear she was having sex with the man.

Her eyes ranged across the room. Linda Abernathy was pressed against a wall by a big, black man, whose hands were up inside her shirt as he kissed her. Across the room she caught just a glimpse of LeAnne Jackson, stark naked, pulling an equally naked young man toward a hallway that had several doors along it. Bedrooms?

There were more, many more, and she knew almost all of them. Some were just sitting and talking to the men with them. Two were lying beside their "party favors" on the deep carpet, feeding each other tidbits from the spread on the table. Some of the women were still dressed, though most were in various stages of undress. None of the men had on more than shorts. A lot of them favored cock socks. At least half a dozen were stark naked. All of them she could see were erect.

She realized she was leaning against Josh, and his arm was around her. Her knees felt weak. How could they do this? How could all these women cheat on their husbands? It was insane! And how on earth had they kept it a secret all these years?

The answer to that came quickly. She realized that all of them were equally guilty. Josh had said some women didn't have sex, but to even be here, like she was, put the brand of slut on her. And if any of it came out it would all come out, and every woman here would suffer for it. Nobody would tell because everybody had the same exposure to harm if it ever got out. And she'd been hanging around these women long enough to know that if she just left, she'd be suspect ... especially if their little secret got out.

Which left her with the decision of what to do about it.

She wasn't interested in documenting the foibles of the women who, twenty-four hours ago she would have called her friends. But now she was quite sure she didn't know them well enough to classify them that way. That included Brandi, who Jennifer saw pouring drinks, her dress down around her waist while a hot young man who looked vaguely Latin stood behind her, cupping her breasts and playing with them. He was obviously grinding his cock into her butt. Jennifer looked away so that no eye contact could accidentally be made. In fact, she came to the conclusion she didn't want to meet anyone's eyes right now.

With the possible exception of Josh, whose hand lay negligently on her hip. She looked up at him, to find him looking at her, instead of the debauchery going on all around him.

"It's a lot to take in," he said, with a wan smile.

"You can say that again," she said. "I feel like I've entered a parallel universe."

"I'm used to it, I guess," he said. "Well ... not the orgiastic sort of thing going on here, but the atmosphere of estrogen and testosterone is familiar to me. I like dancing. I guess I like to tease, maybe. But this seems a bit much."

"Can I leave?" she asked.

"I wish you wouldn't." he said.

Suddenly, his arm around her felt hot ... possessive ... foreign. She pulled away from him.

"I won't have sex with you," she said.

"That's fine," he said. "That's not why I want you to stay."

"Why do you want me to stay?" she asked.

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain," he said. "You're an astonishingly beautiful woman. But you undoubtedly already know that. So I'll admit that's part of why I'd like to spend some time with you. But it's more than that. I'm used to women looking at me with a certain kind of look. I assume you've experienced men undressing you with their eyes?"

She nodded. "You did it when I got here," she said.

He grinned. "Guilty, as charged. You may punish me for that later, if you like. But my point is that women can do that to a man too. I'm used to that. I cultivate a look that invites women to look at me and lust after me. I try to fan those flames. And women react to me." He grinned again. "Except for a few ... like you."

"Me?" She looked at him askance. "Since you admitted to ogling me, I'll admit I looked you over too."

"Maybe, but you were circumspect about it ... polite, if you will. That's not the kind of woman I'm used to being around. I find you fascinating, and I'd love to spend some time with you, even if it's only chatting about things." He looked around. "Besides ... I think it would be politically advisable if you were seen going into some private place with me. These women need to see you as having the same ... weaknesses, shall we say ... as they have."

Jennifer was fully aware of the role of social politics in her world, and he was right about that. Since she was here, she needed to engineer it so that the others thought she was like-minded. If not, she'd have to watch her back like a hawk.

"I thought you came here for sex," said Jennifer.

"Mark is our unofficial leader, at least when it comes to these birthday parties. I guess he and Brandi go way back. That's him standing behind her over there at the table. Anyway, I gather she told him there was going to be a first-timer here tonight, and she was afraid this woman might freak out, or panic or something. She asked if any of the guys would be willing to baby-sit her if that happened. I guess none of them were, so he talked to me. He's asked me if I wanted to come in the past, but it didn't seem like the kind of thing I'd be interested in. While I like to tease, I'm sort of a one woman man when it comes to relationships. On the other hand, I like a challenge, so I said I'd give it a whirl."

"So you're my keeper," she said.

"We are all our brother's and sister's keeper," he replied.

"I don't think any of those people out there are thinking of each other as brothers or sisters," said Jennifer.

"Oh," he sighed. "You have much to learn about your friends. You just wouldn't believe some of the scenarios I've heard about being acted out at these parties."

"You're right," she said. "I don't even want to hear them." She looked him up and down again before she realized she was doing it, followed by both chagrin and guilt that she had done so. To distract herself, she seized on something he'd said. "So how does your girlfriend manage to live with the fact that you show off to other women?"

"She doesn't," he said calmly. "I haven't found one yet who was willing to share me like that. At least not one I was really interested in myself."

"So you're not cheating on anybody to be here ... with me," she said.

"And you're not cheating on anybody with me." His smile was wide and beautiful. He held up a finger. "We don't want anybody else to know that, though, now do we? Might I suggest that you allow me to kiss you, quite publicly? And then you should drag me to one of those rooms down that hallway. I think there are also some upstairs. We can lock ourselves in a room for a while and talk, and then you can make a graceful exit, kissing me goodbye ardently on the stairs, or at the door, or by your car, or all three, and drive back to your normal life, guilty only of a little subterfuge and a few meaningless kisses."

"This little plot of yours has me kissing you an awful lot," she said.

He smiled. "I said I didn't come here for the sex, and that's true. On the other hand, a man would have to be insane not to try to get some token of a broader fantasy from a woman like you. You're hot, Jennifer. What can I say?"

Again she felt a flush of heat in her face and, surprisingly, in her belly as well. His compliments were so smoothly delivered that it would have been easy to think them glib, but the look in his eyes told her there was nothing thoughtless about his comments. He meant them. What surprised her was that she enjoyed them as well. She felt a twinge of guilt.

"I bet you make good tips," she said.

"I do okay," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"I suppose you want to kiss me now."

"Well, we're not exactly in the center of things," he said. "Not that I'm turning you down, if you just want to try one to see if you can stand it or something. Otherwise, I think we should go get something to eat, and take it with us upstairs. Who knows how long we'll be up there, and food and drink might make things a lot more pleasant."

"Good point," said Jennifer. "And while we're doing that, we'll be more visible."

"Exactly," he said.

"I don't know if I can pull this off," she said softly.

"Hang with me, kid. You'll be fine. And don't freak out if I touch you a little bit while we're pulling this off."

"Touch me?"

"Nothing too personal," he said. "I'll just make it look like we're having a good time."

"I know where your balls are," she said, darkly.

"I don't think you should touch them yet," he said, his face showing no hint that he was joking. "Maybe you could give them a little caress as you get in your car. Don't want to overdo it."

"Ha - ha," she said.

"What say we not joke about my balls. Let's get something to eat. I can't wait to kiss you."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They were halfway to the table, threading between two dancing couples, when his hand slid from the small of her back down to cup her right buttock. He gave it a little squeeze. She controlled her instinctive jerk, and realized that no man had done that to her since she was in college. She almost laughed, and slid her hand to squeeze his ass too, just because it felt good to be taking some kind of action.

They heaped food on plates. The spread looked delicious. At the end of the table, Brandi was still serving drinks. Her dress was gone now, and all she had on were thong panties. Her party favor's hand was inside the front of the panties and he was kissing her neck.

"You stayed!" said Brandi, her eyes bright. "I wasn't sure you would."

"How does one admit to being fascinated by something like this, without sounding ..." Jennifer paused.

"Like a slut?" Brandi finished for her. "Honey, I got over that feeling years ago. It's only once a year. I get more attention from an attentive man here in twelve hours than I get from my husband the rest of the year. If he paid me a quarter of the attention Mark does, I'd stop having these parties. It's the same with the rest of them. That's why I never invited you before. I thought you and Roger were doing better than the rest of us. I see now that's not the case, and I'm delighted to be able to offer you this brief, but needed interlude in your marriage."

"Thank you," said Jennifer. She jumped a little as Josh's hand came to touch her breast. He wasn't overt about it. He didn't cup it, but his thumb caressed the side in a way that was very familiar and intimate. She saw Brandi's eyes go there, and saw something like relief in the woman's eyes. Picking up on his cue, she added to the act. "We're going to go ... um ... explore the possibilities ... upstairs."

"Be sure to lock the door if you don't want tourists," said Brandi. She shuddered as Mark's hands found and twisted her nipples.

"Tourists?" Jennifer wondered what fingers on her own nipples like that might feel like. Roger was a wham, bam, not-even-thank-you-ma'am kind of lover. He seemed to ascribe to the fundamentalist view of sex as a necessary evil in married life.

"Open or unlocked doors are an invitation to watch," panted Brandi.

"Oh my," said Jennifer.

"I need to go," said Brandi. "I'll catch up to you later, maybe. I'm glad you decided to stay."

With that she turned around and jumped, wrapping her legs around Mark, who caught her buttocks with his hands and, while kissing her, headed for a nearby love seat. The hand disappeared from her breast, and she glanced at Josh, who gave her a smile. For the first time in her life, she understood the phrase "inscrutable Oriental face."

"Are you sure I'm safe with you?" she asked, remembering the feel of his hand on both her ass and breast.

"You're as safe as you want to be," he said firmly.

She stood for a few seconds, pondering that. He was making it obvious he was interested. That made that heat come back to her belly, but she recognized it for what it was. It was just the pleasure of being paid an honest compliment, naughty as it might be.

"Who should lead?" she asked, as she balanced her plate of food on one hand, and her full glass in the other.

"Definitely you," he said.

"Oh? Why?" she asked, curiously.

"So I can watch that fabulous ass climb the stairs," he said, quite honestly.

She found that honesty refreshing, and laughed.

"That's the girl," he said. "If you have to be here, you might as well try to have a little fun."

"I know what kind of fun you want me to have," she said.

"Guilty, as charged," he said, grinning again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She didn't know whether it was the general atmosphere, or the fact that she'd gulped her champagne when Brandi had poured it and then gotten a refill, but she felt a little giddy as she climbed the stairs. Part of that was knowing where Josh's eyes were. She was absolutely certain he was watching her ass cheeks rise and fall as she mounted the stairs. Then, feeling foolish, her self-confidence fled. She looked over her shoulder and almost sobbed with relief as his eyes bounced from her bottom up to her face and he grinned.

A surge of naughtiness overcame her, and she stopped, bending forward so that her butt was sticking out. She watched as his eyes widened, but he was smooth as he leaned forward and kissed her skirt-clad cheek. She continued, exaggerating the swing of her hips.

"You're good at this," he said softly.

"I'm being foolish," she shot back.

"I wouldn't call it foolish," he said.

She didn't answer. She was too busy trying to figure out why she had done that. She had definitely not been thinking of it as part of their 'subterfuge' to fool the other women present. That indicated she'd done it for ... other reasons. The problem was there were no legitimate other reasons to do it for!

There was a delicate, slim, accent table on the second floor landing, where the banister met the wall. She set her plate and glass on it and turned to take his from him, adding them to hers. She turned to find him right there, eager to engage in this next step, which allegedly was part of the make-believe that was supposed to remove her as a perceived threat in the minds of the women. He scooped her into his arms, his lips coming to crush hers as his hands found her bottom again and lifted her a few inches off the floor.

She felt his erection plainly, pressing against her abdomen, and was shocked by it. When had that happened? Why had that happened? She had already told him she would not participate in this orgiastic behavior. One hand left her ass and swept up her back to her hair. His fingers slid into her long locks and his hand pressed her lips to his. She realized her arms were around his neck, and that she was pulling him toward her just as much as he was pulling her.

His tongue teased her teeth through barely open lips, and instinct caused her mouth to open. The kiss became a whirlwind of emotional response. She hadn't been kissed like this in years, maybe a decade or more! The memory of such kisses flooded her mind, and she writhed against his hard body. He had said "a few meaningless kisses," but this kiss felt anything but meaningless!

Then it was over, and he was standing back, gazing at her.

"That was very believable," he said, that quizzical smile on his fact again. "I'll take the food. You say something that suggests you're in a hurry, and head that way." He tossed his head toward the hallway.

"Come on!" she yipped, her fingers reaching for the buttons on her blouse. She turned and ran into the hallway.

Josh picked up the plates, arranged them on one arm, recovered the two wine glasses, and sauntered down the hall after her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *