Authors: Astrid Lee Donovan
The doorbell rang, her heart stopped, and her mother seemed to pounce like a cat that had found a mouse. Thomas made train noises as he played with the wooden one with the red paint peeling. She was holding a cup of tea in her hands and gently placed it on the kitchen table as she took a deep breath. Then she traversed the space between her and the entranceway to the kitchen and smiled at Ethan as he said hello to her mother.
“Well, come on inside. It’s bitter cold out there and I’m sure your mother doesn’t like to be kept waiting, oh hello, Marjorie! I didn’t see you behind your tall, statuesque son!” Her mother never missed a beat, and Ethan was pushed to the side like a forgotten, old Christmas gift.
He was holding all the gifts in his arms as if he’d just been drug along on a shopping trip with a shopaholic.
“Good morning,” he whispered when he was finally able to get past Marjorie and Priscilla.
“Good morning,” Elaine whispered to him. She chanced a quick kiss before she led him into the living room to deposit the gifts. Thomas was ignoring the hubbub as he crashed his train into a dump truck. He made crunching noises and swooshing noises and flung the two into the air.
Then he grabbed the fire engine and began to make the alarm sounds. Ethan stepped up behind him with his hands in his pockets. He watched a moment before he squatted down beside the boy and smiled at him. “You know the police officers, come to the scene of an accident, too.” Thomas didn’t miss a beat as he grabbed the cop car; a tiny thing compared to the rest of his toys and handed it to Ethan.
He turned it over in his fingers a few times, glanced at Elaine to make sure she was okay, and then proceeded to introduce himself. “I’m Ethan,” he said as he held out his hand.
“Thomas,” her son responded, grasping the hand as if he were already a tiny man and shaking it. Then he released and went back to crashing his cars together. Ethan handed the police car back when Thomas held out his hand, and they proceeded to talk about what firemen and policemen did at the scene of an accident.
Marjorie and Priscilla were in the kitchen arguing over how long the turkey should be cooked, and Elaine found herself sitting down as she watched her son accept Ethan into his life as if he’d always been there. Her heart swelled with love for the two of them and she felt the worry and fear slowly easing out of her body. No matter what happened, she knew that Ethan wasn’t going to leave her intentionally. He would do the best he could to stick around, and she knew she would eventually accept that he was a firefighter. Every day he would put his life at risk for others, and every day she knew he would do his best to come back to her.
THE END
TRADING SPOUSES
Parts 1 & 2
Alpha Male Swinger Romance
Chapter One
Suddenly and with a marked jolt, Amanda Blair-Hopkins woke up.
She truly did not intend this insane and ill-conceived gesture; but, ah, it happened. And when it did, she wanted nothing better to go back to sleep, to return to some semblance of a relaxing, peaceful and even—fates forbid—happy dream state.
Oh, she supposed that her life in reality was happy enough. She had a kind, handsome husband and two magnificent kids who—in her opinion at least—could qualify equally for membership in MENSA, the Junior Olympics and for The Really Awesome and Well-Mannered Kids’ Club (if indeed there was such a preposterous organization in existence). She also worked a decidedly unglamorous but decidedly self-supporting position as an accountant at a major corporation (OK in reality she just wasn’t sure how major it was—she never bothered to check—but it paid her half of the household bills).
And about that household- well, this night had been earmarked as a very special date night for her and her husband Greg. Set to celebrate their 10
th
anniversary in grand style, the two had reserved a table at a four star restaurant followed by a romantic, sure to be passionate night at a five star hotel.
Amanda had bought a new dress for the occasion; a sleek pink silk number that she thought would flatter her full figured curves to glamorous effect.
She and Greg had spent the day exchanging flirty texts and stealing secretive phone calls at work; promising one another the night of their lives, one they would never forget.
“Well that prediction certainly came true,” she mused, rolling her eyes heavenward as she shifted in her bed.
Their daughter Emily had come home early with a nasty case of the flu; a situation that compelled the couple to cancel their plans and spend the evening immersed in thermometers, stomach relief bags, prescribed cold medications and other timeless symbols of romance.
Finally Emily and her brother Jerrod had fallen into a deep and merciful sleep, one that allowed their parents to collapse finally into one another’s arms.
“Well, if sleeping in the same bed with our hands barely touching qualifies as ‘collapsing into one another’s arms’,” she bit her lip, shifting in the cotton sheets of their basic four poster bed to regard her sleeping husband.
Immediately she received a reminder of the reason she married her handsome young husband; a striking man with thick, shoulder length hair that shone deep ebony in the dark of night, framing a face that featured chiseled cheekbones, a cleft chin, and full, warm lips she hadn’t kissed in far too long.
Eager to rectify this situation, she now leaned forward to touch those lips with a soft, coaxing kiss, one that immediately opened his azure blue eyes as he regarded her through a sleepy gaze.
“Hey, Handsome,” she whispered, seeking to charm him with a devilish grin as she reached forward to touch the surface of his lean muscled bare chest. “What ya doin’?”
She cringed as her husband met these words with a low, deep sigh.
“Making a lame attempt to get some sleep, dear,” he scoffed, adding as he shifted his body to turn his back to her, “An attempt that you, at the moment, are not facilitating.”
Amanda sighed.
“Come on honey, it’s still our anniversary,” she insisted, adding as she once again reached forth her hands to rub his muscled shoulders, “We can still find our own little way to celebrate.”
Greg shook his head.
“Our anniversary date expired, as of an hour ago,” he sniffed, sneaking a glance at the bedside clock that occupied his nightstand. “And I am going to expire, if I don’t get some friggin’ sleep.”
Amanda had heard enough.
“Well OK then, Romeo Reborn and Reincarnated,” she snapped, shifting her body so that she faced away from her rude, surly husband. “At least I—for one—am making an attempt to put some spark back into this marriage.”
She relaxed a bit as her husband reached forth his own hand to knead and stroke her back; adding in a deep, apologetic tone, “I’m so sorry, Hon. I love you so much, and I was so looking forward to spending a romantic evening with you.”
Amanda sighed.
“I know, I was too,” she allowed, adding as she turned her hand to engage him in a gaze that seemed to bespeak tender, mutual empathy. “Listen Greg, we always could reschedule for this weekend—that is, providing that our little one is on the mend. We could book another hotel suite, make another dinner reservation at La Coeur…”
“Nice idea, Hon,” her husband interrupted her, adding with a shrug, “Still and all, I don’t think it will work. After being married for 10 years, Amanda, and having two kids, I think we need something more than dinner and a hotel suite to spice things up again.”
Amanda pursed her lips.
“OK then, what would you like to try? A new fantasy? A new position?” she asked, adding with a cringe, “I’m willing to try pretty much anything, as long as it does not result in me hanging upside down from the ceiling, with my movement restricted and in copious amounts of pain. I tell ya, too many people are into the freaky stuff these days.”
Greg chuckled.
“Nah baby, it’s nothing like that,” he assured her, adding as he looked her directly in the eyes, “I’m just suggesting that, if we do make a dinner reservation at La Coeur this weekend, it should be a reservation for four.”
“What you talkin’ about, Greg?”
When faced with her husband’s baffling suggestion that they make their romantic anniversary dinner a double date, Amanda Blair-Hopkins honestly had no idea as to how to react or respond. Could it be that her hubby was sleep talking? Was he sipping the cooking cherry before bed?
Or, perish the thought, was he actually serious? At this point all she could do, she figured, was issue him a time honored 80s catch phrase from one of her favorite old TV shows.
“What you talkin’ about, Greg?” she repeated, fixing him with a loving look that nonetheless questioned his sanity.
Greg chuckled, but only briefly.
“I don’t want to freak you out, hon,” he assured her, holding his hands up before him in a defensive stance. “But I’ve been talking to a woman at work about our—um, dry spell—and she offered me a most novel suggestion.”
Amanda gaped.
“You’ve been talking about our marked recent lack of a sex life at work?” she gasped out, adding as she covered her face with her hands, “Why don’t you just compose a story about our situation for the company newsletter? Maybe even announce it over the loud speaker and encourage open discussion and suggestions in the strategy room?” she paused here, adding as she shot a suspicious glance through two gaping fingers, “And would your confidante happen to take the form of the anorexic blonde spinning teacher in the typing pool? Because if so you are so busted….”
Greg guffawed outright.
“That’s one of the reasons I love you babe—you never fail to make me laugh,” he told her, adding through gritted teeth, “I only hope that you’ll be just as open as you are good humored. The friend that I am referencing, Amanda, is a member of a swinging community. Pia, my friend, and her husband Emmanuel like to date other couples—intensely, and on a regular basis.”
Amanda had heard enough.
“OK, no. 1,” she spat out, holding up a firm finger for emphasis. “Pia and Emmanuel? Did these two just step out of a friggin’ erotica novel? No one actually has those names in real life. No. 2: When you say that they date other couples, and intensely—is that to say that they engage them in heated bowling and bocce matches on frequent double dates?”
This time Greg didn’t laugh; instead pinning her with an intense stare that seemed to gauge her reaction to his next words.
“No, they don’t bowl with these couples. They have sex with them,” he clarified, boldly and bluntly. “They swap partners, and have been doing so for the past two years. In that time they report that their relationship has become livelier, hotter and more intense—even more intense than a heated bowling match, I daresay,” he smiled, but only briefly. “In other words, Amanda, swinging has saved their marriage. And I do believe it just might do the same for us.”
He cringed as Amanda bounded from their bed, sending their sheets flying as she pointed an accusing finger straight in his direction.
“So in other words, Man of My Heart,” she spat out, tone dripping with venom. “You have the hots for a gal at work, and you want my official permission to cheat on me with her. And if I don’t agree, then I officially qualify as an unhip, behind the times wife who is not responsive to her husband’s needs—which, according to too many people, would give you permission to cheat anyway.”
Greg sighed.
“Listen, would you just hear me out on this?” he implored her, holding his hands out before her in what seemed a gesture of sheer desperation. “You and I need a boost in our love life, we both know this.”
Amanda nodded.
“Well seeing as how you haven’t touched me in a month, I’d say that’s a fair statement,” she snapped, adding with a deep sigh, “But don’t you think that maybe tango lessons, or—if you really wanna get wild—an evening spent at the Pussycat Theater, which hosts half price couples night every other Wednesday, not that I’ve noticed mind you, would best infidelity on the proposed list of things to do to spice up a marriage?”
Greg shook his head.
“How is it infidelity,” he queried, tone slow and cautious, “If we both participate and both enjoy it—and thoroughly?”
Amanda froze.
“Are you honestly suggesting that I join you and this sure to be irresistible frau for a three way roll in the hay?” she asked, tone tinged with complete and utter disbelief as she folded her arms before her.
Greg shook his head.
“Not a three way, no,” he amended, adding in a matter of fact tone, “A mate swap, apparently, is something of an even exchange. I get some quality time with the lovely Pia—and in return, you get some quality time with her handsome husband.”
Amanda gasped.
“You’d actually want me to have sex with another man?” she asked him, adding with a hurt look, “You mean to say you wouldn’t be the slightest bit jealous?”
Greg smiled.
“Of course I would, baby,” he cooed in a soothing tone, “but don’t you see? That’s part of the thrill. We both have fun. We both get some satisfaction and perhaps even learn some exciting new tricks to bring to the bedroom. And we both feel just a little bit guilty, and more than a bit jealous. That’s a potent mixture for some awesome make up sex, if you asked me.”
His wife thought a moment, and then nodded.
“OK well, I guess I could see the potential benefits to this little arrangement,” she pursed her lips, adding as she inclined her head in her husband’s direction, “One question, though. Is this Emmanuel as hot as his wife? I mean, not to be shamelessly, unforgivably stereotypical, but when I picture a male swinger, I picture some greasy, swarthy little guy bathed in cheap cologne with a name like Stud or Scoundrel—and copious amounts of gold chains. But I could be wrong. I direly, desperately hope so anyway.”
Greg said nothing, only reached for the briefcase that lay beside their bed and opened it to reveal a glossy photograph; one that revealed the most beautiful couple she’d ever seen.
The woman, who she assumed was the mysterious Pia, boasted a slender frame, inhumanly long legs and silky reams of long, coal black hair and wide dark eyes; features accentuated still further by her bronzed features and full, moist, ruby red lips.
“Oh hell no,” she burst out, shaking her head from side to side in a sharp, vigorous manner, “Ain’t no way I am letting you anywhere near that woman.”
Then she looked at Mr. Pia, otherwise known as Emmanuel. And, well, she couldn’t say much of anything at all in response to all that hotness.
Also tall and statuesque, Emmanuel was light in radiant contrast with his wife’s exotic bronzed beauty; himself an ebullient vision of long golden hair, bronzed skin, carved cheekbones, full, moist lips, and a strong, exquisitely muscled form.
“Amanda,” Greg said finally, voice laced with an all knowing tone as he declared, “Meet my co-worker and her husband.”
Amanda nodded.
“Must have missed ‘em at your office Christmas party,” she commented, adding as she inclined her head in the direction of her smirking mate, “Any chance we could do dinner? Maybe even bowling, mayhap?”
Greg guffawed outright.
“That’s the spirit, baby,” he praised her, adding as he held his hand out to her, “Now let’s put all this aside for the evening and act like old marrieds. Let us kiss good night. And fall asleep together, in one another’s arms.”
Nodding her agreement to this plan, Amanda walked slowly back to the bed and sank downward in her husband’s strong arms; sinking for just a moment against his muscled chest as her husband—her one and only lover in life—held her closer than close and claimed her lips in a passionate kiss.
His full, warm mouth massaged hers in a smooth, massaging motion, his tongue stealing inward to engage hers in a passionate tango. The couple’s hands joined between them as they kissed each other senseless, both leaning full and hard into their passion, before breaking their bond to pull back and stare deep into one another’s eyes.
“Just think about all of the excitement that awaits us, my lady,” he whispered in her ear. “Prepare for the ultimate thrill.”