Twenty-Seven

Dinner was a succulent array of oysters, crab cakes, and salmon washed down with a crisp Chardonnay. Faith found herself giggling more and more as they talked across the table. Selby reached across and caressed the back of her hand as she rested it on the hunter green tablecloth. She couldn't take her eyes off him; his whole face seemed alight.

He had dressed her in three-inch heels, black, which matched her knee-length skirt. Her blouse was a silky lime, which he had her keep unbuttoned enough to allow her cleavage to turn several heads. She found herself blushing quite a bit, but had to admit, she loved the attention. He also laid out her black lace bra, but no panties. She loved the twists of her husband’s mind.

“You are beautiful.”

She felt the blush heat her cheeks. “You are blind.” She felt beautiful, though. There, with him, dressed as she was. She felt sexy. Alive. She never felt that way before Selby entered her life.

He grinned at her. “That means I get to read you like Braille and run my fingers all over you.”

“Now, that sounds promising.”

After dinner, Selby drove them over the bridge to the Downtown night life. Old-fashioned lamp posts lit that section of New Haven as streams of people flowed along the sidewalks and even into the street. It was one giant party with pit-stops for alcohol and dancing. The Upper Floor was a two-story pub with the band blaring from the top floor and an outside deck that filled up quickly. It was popular with the upper-twenties crowd with their jeans and untucked shirts and short skirts and cleavage down to the navel. Sexuality oozed from every pore of every patron. Everyone in the place was beautiful, even the ones who weren’t very pretty. Couples snuggled in the corner, groups of friends huddled over a two-foot by two-foot table, and men as well as ladies prowled for that night’s hook-up.

Faith had never been to a dance club before meeting Selby. Her mother thought them cesspools of sexual deviance, and so, Faith dutifully avoided them to keep her mother appeased. Of course, that never stopped Cherish from enjoying the smoke-filled dens of iniquity. She would go out two or three times a week, staying out until dawn and only then slinking back into her room, still intoxicated and smelling like yesterday’s ashtray. Their mother never quizzed her or scolded her. Cherish got away with everything. She still did.

But not Faith. The one time Faith even tried to taste a glass of wine with dinner, her mother went off on her as if she put Christ on the Cross herself. Faith never asked again. Of course, that didn’t stop her father from taking her to the garage and allowing her to have her first taste of everything. Wine. Beer. Bourbon. Coconut rum. Faith’s father had a locked tool cabinet that didn’t have any tools in it. He kept his secret fun stuff tucked safely away, out of reach of the long arm of Valerie Driscoll. He followed his wife to church and supported Dennis’ ministry ambitions but thought too much religion shrunk your smile as well as your heart.

Faith always wondered how her father stayed married to her mother for forty-four years. He’d always shrug and say, “I like her meat loaf.” Truth was, he thought everyone was quirky, and you just took people as they were. Her mom wasn't always so bitter, and Faith could remember some hilarious moments. Just none recently.

“Malibu and cranberry?” Selby asked as they found a table in the corner, and he helped her slide in.

“Please.” She smiled and knew his next comment.

“Predictable.”

“I’ll be more adventurous later,” she said.

“Now that sounds promising.” He wiggled his eyebrows as he disappeared into the mayhem for their drinks.

Selby was the one to take Faith to her first club. He had noticed her swaying beside the car to a Brittany Spears song and asked her if she liked to dance.

“Southern Baptists don’t dance,” she told him.

He just laughed. “Everyone dances, little lady. Some just never do it outside their homes. I promise you, the preacher who told you not to dance will grab his wife around the waist and grind against her in the kitchen while she’s trying not to burn the potatoes.”

Faith laughed at the image because the preacher at the time was a short, balding man in his late sixties while his wife was a plump, blue-haired lady. Not the grinding couple.

Selby took her that very weekend to a restaurant on the beach that turned night club after nine and helped her ease out onto the dance floor. The crowd was a mixture of gray-hairs all the way to barely drinking age, but everyone danced away as the live band rocked through the music that spanned four decades. She had loved the place and the freedom. No one knew her there, and she was able for the first time to cut loose and have fun. She danced to almost every song. Selby bought her drinks while he sipped on water, so she felt safe.

Faith glanced across the dance floor as Selby weaved his way among Upper Floor’s patrons, drink in each hand. She always felt safe with Selby—then and now. He was always her safety net for when she wanted to try some new stunt. She smiled as he slid up beside her, comforted in the knowledge of their love and strength.

Selby slid the drinks in front of her as he scooted into the booth. “And what’s brought a smile to your face?” He leaned in and nuzzled his nose against her neck before kissing her ear.

She squirmed a little, feeling the electricity shouting from her neck to the pinkness between her legs. “Just thinking of how much I love you.”

“And here I thought you were having dirty thoughts.”

“With you, always.” She giggled as she felt his hand caress her thigh, fingers just lightly brushing her skin. She sucked in a breath at his touch and braced for more of his pleasure.

He teased her flesh only slightly more as he sucked her earlobe. When he pulled away, he wore that Cheshire Cat grin that screamed mischief. “You, Mister, are bad,” she said.

His grin grew until it crinkled his eyes. “I know.” He sipped his Maker’s Mark and then said. “Let's dance.”

Lady Gaga gyrated from the house speakers as the people on the dance floor twisted and gyrated against whoever was next to them. It was a free-flowing groove with people just lost in the music. Faith draped her arms around Selby’s neck as his went to her hips, crotches sliding up and down, simulating what they both wanted to be doing instead of dancing. Soon Enrique took over for Gaga, but Faith never let go. She loved the tightness of his muscles when he danced and couldn't deny how sexy it made her feel.

After a couple more dances, Faith was ready for another drink, and Selby needed to hit the head. “You get them, gorgeous. Tab’s open. I’ll be back in a couple of shakes.”

“Gross.” Faith kissed him while she laughed at his attempt at humor. “Now, go.”

Selby squeezed her hand and then began the winding path to the men’s room. She watched him leave, her eyes enjoying the tightness of his ass until he disappeared through a bright orange door. Once he vanished from sight, Faith weaved her way to the bar where a young man dressed in black pants and a black dress shirt waited to take her order. As soon as she placed it, he turned to his bottles, and Faith leaned on the bar, fingers intertwined, waiting.

“Having fun?”

The feminine voice startled her out of her private reverie, and she turned to see Tracey perched on a barstool beside her, smiling and toying with a strand of red hair. Faith felt her cheeks flush as she thought of her fantasy from earlier while Nessa massaged her shoulders. The auburn-haired woman wore a simple blue dress, low-cut and at mid-thigh. Faith glanced at the tan flesh of her exposed breasts and felt the heat rush out of her even more. She quickly glanced away, hoping Tracey hadn't noticed.

She heard the other woman slide closer, felt the warm touch of Tracey’s hand on her thigh, grazing upward. Faith tried not to move, but her legs seemed to part of their own. The redhead’s fingers were cool and a little damp from where she held her own drink a moment before. She raised her eyebrows at Faith who forgot Tracey asked her a question.

“Y-yes. Yes, actually I am.” She tried to control her voice but found it difficult as Tracey’s hand inched upward.

“I saw you dancing with Selby earlier,” Tracey went on as if her fingers weren’t inches from Faith’s sweet passage. “You two looked great together out there.”

Faith glanced around, praying it wasn’t obvious what was happening. The place was dark, and everyone else was lost in their own pursuits. Turning her head back to the mirror behind the bar, Faith leaned in closer, trying to hide herself. The bartender returned with her drinks, and she gave him Selby’s name for the tab. As the man thanked her, she felt Tracey’s fingers brush against her bare pussy. She gasped at the touch, and even though she knew she should have pulled away, she felt her body push against the fingers lightly caressing her.

“Thank you,” she said, but she wasn’t sure if it was for the compliment or the fingers.

Tracey continued to talk, asking questions of Faith’s night, how she enjoyed dancing. The conversation was normal if anyone happened to be close enough to hear. Except, they would have noticed Faith had a hard time answering. Tracey’s fingers pressed against the standing woman’s sensitive pearl, pressing on it as she twirled in small circles. Faith could feel the moisture building, the orgasm cresting as a wave on the ocean. She struggled to hide what was happening. She opened her eyes and stared into the mirror.

And saw Selby staring at her with a confused look on his face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Selby washed his hands, tossing the Eco-friendly towel into the over-flowing trash bin as he pushed his way back out to the crowded bar. The place seemed to have doubled in occupancy since he had entered the restroom. Most of the tables were full while people lined the walls and crowded around the dance floor. First, he glanced at their table, assuming Faith had beaten him back, but it was empty. Glancing at the bar, he finally found her. He could see in the mirror behind the bar that she had their drinks, but she wasn’t moving. It was then that he spotted Tracey perched on a barstool beside his wife. A smile pushed his cheeks up seeing the two of them together. He was glad Tracey showed up since dancing was her idea.

He started to make his way to the girls and then stopped. Faith’s eyes were closed, and her facial expression was...different. He tried to get a better look at what was happening, but the crowded dance floor was between them, and people gyrated across his line of sight. Faith opened her eyes, and they saw each other.

He grinned. Selby knew that expression.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tracey could see Selby watching them through the crowd thanks to the mirror behind the bar. “Keep watching your husband, Faith,” Tracey whispered. “It was nice of you to leave the panties at home.”

“It was Selby’s idea.” She almost panted the words.

“Remind me to thank him.”

Faith started to groan and then bit her lower lip against it. She stared into Selby’s eyes, focusing on him as Tracey strummed her slit. Faith felt the other woman’s fingers slip inside her slick channel as a thumb replaced the fingers on her swollen clit, and she gasped before she could stop it. She wasn’t sure what had brought out this aggressive side of Tracey or if Selby had set it up, but she would have to thank him, as well.

“You’re such a good girl,” the other woman whispered. “And also a very naughty girl. Is this what you meant by taking risks? Think of it, Faith. A crowded bar, your husband watching, and I’m about to make you come. And Edwin’s not here. You want to come, don’t you? Right here? Right now?”

Faith kept her eyes locked onto Selby’s as she nodded. “Oh, god, yes.”

“Right here at the bar?” Tracey’s fingers worked faster, curled inside just enough to reach that sweet spot.

“Please.”

“Such a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I am. Please.”

Faith felt her knees weaken and held herself tighter to the bar. The bartender came over noticing that the two of them were still there. “Anything else I can get you ladies?”

“No!” Faith almost screamed. “No, thank you.”

She felt the thumb dig into her clit, and the wave crashed upon the shore of ecstasy. Her mouth opened in a silent “Oh” as her release sent tendrils of pleasure through her.

The bartender walked away, a confused smile on his face.

As Tracey’s fingers slid from Faith’s sex, she groaned with sensitive want. She felt the other woman wipe her fingers on the black skirt before bringing them up and grabbing her sweaty glass. With a smile, Tracey caught Faith’s eyes in the mirror. “Shall we join Selby now? Before his drink totally waters down.”

“I’ll buy him another.”