Tryst

I try to withhold my gasp, or what Justice would call it—pearl clutching, but there’s just so much . . . sex. Like on every surface, every platform. Even against walls and from ceilings.

There are men and women on huge wooden crosses, naked and shackled, some with gags in their mouths. They moan and writhe as their lovers perform humiliating acts on them—whipping them, caning them, even pouring hot wax on them. And while many of them cry out, I find that they are not cries of distress, but cries of pleasure. They love it. Some even beg for more.

I spy at least three sex swings suspended from the ceiling as well as a half dozen oddly shaped lounge chairs that are being used for anything but lounging. There’s a scene merely feet away from where we stand, where a woman is being impaled from behind, her upper torso draped over the chair in a way that gives her lover maximum depth. I hate to admit it, but it looks incredibly hot. So hot that I’m mentally strategizing all the positions that chair would allow.

There’s not just hetero sex going on in here either, even with people I am positive lead hetero lifestyles. On one of the round beds, there seems to be some kind of conga line of sorts. A man is fucking a woman from behind while her face is pressed between a woman’s thighs. Another man fucks her mouth while he eats a man’s ass. And that guy is balls-deep in a young man who looks no older than eighteen. And that’s really not the most shocking scene around the room.

Reluctantly, I look over at Tucker and find his eyes fixated on the group sex scene. I can’t read his expression, and I so desperately need to know what he’s thinking. He’s never had an aversion to homosexuality—hello, we live in NYC—but he also has never made me think that he could be into other guys. That night with Ransom, as he watched with his dick in his hands, was as close to kink as he’s ever gotten. And maybe that’s what did it for him . . . not watching me get fucked, but watching another man. Maybe that’s why he came harder than I’ve ever seen him come. Maybe that’s why he seemed so buoyant and sexy. Justice said that one of the greatest sacrifices one can give their spouse is giving their partner what they need sexually. What if Tucker doesn’t need me? Maybe I can’t physically satisfy him? Would I be willing to let him experiment with another man?

Tucker must feel my hand tense as that realization gnaws at me, and looks down, a mixture of haughty desire and fear on his face. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head and return my gaze to the crowd. Now I realize why the music seemed so ridiculously sexual. It’s being remixed by real life moans and mewls.

“Any questions for me?” Justice asks. “And before you say No, I’m not buying it. Everyone should have questions. And I’m glad to answer them.”

I look up at the gorgeous man to see that he appears nonplussed. All this must not even phase him. I guess being around it day in and day out makes you pretty immune.

“These people are all married. So are these couples sleeping with other couples? Seems like it could get kinda messy.”

Justice nods and glances out into the crowd. “We bring in people who are willing to participate, people that are well versed with this lifestyle. Some are professionals. Some just want to guest star for fun. However, this is not sex for hire. All of my employees choose who they play with. Just because they are here, that doesn’t mean they are obligated to fuck you. We hold weekly mixers so the couples can get acquainted with our featured players. Sometimes they co

“Wait. So there are singles here too? Staying here on the compound?” I try and fail to keep the alarm out of my voice. That was my only saving grace—knowing that Ransom was surrounded by married couples. It would be much less likely for him to sleep with anyone while we’re here. And yeah, while I know he fucks other women and it is none of my business, I definitely don’t want to be sleeping a few doors down from it.

“They all go through a strict screening process,” Justice explains. “All STD free and bound under airtight contracts. If they even whisper about this place in their sleep, they forfeit every dime they’ve ever made and will ever make for life.”

I nod like he’s eased my reservations, though I feel even less confident. Ransom could fuck whomever he wanted, and there’d be no risk of it ending up in the tabloids. This would be like an all-you-can-eat buffet for him. And, of course, the women that I suspect are “guest stars” are all insanely gorgeous and youthful with their round, full breasts and high, perky asses. Perfect.

“Let’s take a look around. If we stumble upon something that intrigues you or confuses you, we can stop to dig deeper, no pun intended. Shall we?”

I look at Justice’s expectant guise and offered hand, then turn to my husband. Oddly enough, he looks as if he’s waiting for me to decide too. As if he’s already made up his mind.

I give each man a shaky palm and stiffen my spine, steeling every nerve within me. “Ok. Let’s do this.”

Chapter Twenty-three

I haven’t been able to sleep for two nights since the day we got a glimpse of Justice’s playground. I thought I was ready for it. Thought that it was just what we needed to open up the conversation for our marriage and our sex life. But all it’s done is leave me even more confused and obsessive about our issues.

I can’t get the look on Tucker’s face out of my mind. He looked so fascinated, so engrossed in every single devious act. Several times he would just stop and watch, chewing that full bottom lip with wolfish delight. It didn’t matter who was involved—men, women—it seemed oddly interesting to him.

We stopped to witness a couple masturbating on the bed. Their eyes stayed locked on each other as they pleasured themselves, and when they came, they did it together. It was as if they didn’t even notice us standing there watching. Like they didn’t give a damn. They were the only two people that existed in their world. Tucker gave them each his attention equally. I assumed most straight men would keep their eyes pi

There were several group sex scenes—threesomes, foursomes, and all-out orgies. Those seemed to be his favorite. And while I found them so hot that it left a wet spot in my panties, I couldn’t stop speculating why he seemed to find them so enticing.

After our tour of Oasis’s underground bedlam, Justice gave us homework—a series of questio

As awkward as it was, we did speak about our expectations . . . sorta. He talked, I listened. He asked questions, and I deflected. The process—which should have been informative and fun, even—was frustrating, and none of it was his fault. I brought him here. I asked him to have an open mind. Now I was being stubborn that he’s willing to try things my way. Be careful what you wish for, and all that jazz.