The Pleasure Collection, Swingers Series Boxed Set: #1 House of Pleasure, #2 The Pleasure Party and #3 Possession of Pleasure

House of Pleasure

Part One of the Swingers Series

By Nicola Six

Cover design by Melody Simmons of eBookindiecovers

Copyright © 2013 Nicola Six

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

      Nicola looked at herself in the oval makeup mirror hanging above the polished wooden make up table. The surface of the table was strewn with perfumes and lipsticks and powders, which she usually loved to meticulously apply, enjoying watching herself transform from a naturally good looking woman to something else. Someone beautiful, someone other than who she really was. It was like donning a costume and playing a part that you don't get to play in everyday life. But on this particular evening her heart just wasn't in it.

      She picked up her brush and ran it savagely through her long, light auburn hair. She had just blown it dry and used her round curling brush to create the long, glossy red waves that Greg loved, but now she just wanted it up and out of her way.
What is wrong with you tonight?
she silently scolded her reflection in the mirror. It's your birthday, and your loving husband has been hinting at some big surprise all week.
Be grateful! Get into the spirit of it!
She sighed and reached for her hair pins. It was no use. She would have to fake excitement, as she had been faking it for quite some time. She wasn't sure when it started, but she had definitely turned a corner that could no longer be denied. There was a restlessness swirling low through every aspect of her life, that had spread to every fiber of her being until sometimes she found herself wanting to scream.

      She felt guilty for it. Guilty because her husband was a good man, he was Greg, he was her protector, her champion, and he was damn good looking too. He was well over six feet tall, had a thick head of sandy brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes that crinkled when he grinned, as he always did, always joking, in such a genuine way that women all around him melted. He was the hit of the parties, a generous lover, and he told her he loved her often. So why,
why
did she have these needs, lately, these smoldering desires when she just exchanged glances or words with other men? Hot strangers seemed to be everywhere, suddenly. They must have been around before, but she was noticing them now, and wanting to reach out and lay a hand on their chests to see how hard they were, or lean into their strong necks and inhale their different scents. It was maddening. Her guilt about this was only assuaged by the strong sense that Greg was also restless. Or perhaps just bored. She knew it couldn't be entirely in her imagination that he seemed to be chatting more and more with other women, lately, in social situations. His usual flirtatious nature seemed magnified. A pretty woman looking up at him with appreciation was nothing new for him, but lately he seemed to lean in a little, find an excuse to touch their arm, or to have to speak into their ear, even if the party was not that loud.

      They had only been married for three years, was it possible that they both needed something new?

      Greg walked into the bathroom and half smiled. His usual jovial appreciation of her done-up self was strangely absent this evening, she noticed. She glanced quickly back to her reflection and looked herself over. Sure, her hair wasn't done the way he preferred it, but her brown eyes appeared even larger than usual thanks to her practiced hand and taupe eyeliner. Her lashes were full and long, and her skin was flawless. She had a naturally heart-shaped, creamy face. Her normally milky moon-washed pale skin had been sun kissed golden and warmed thanks to hours of tennis that summer, that had also left her long, slender legs perfectly toned. Something else had been warming inside her. That restlessness, that slow burn...

      Greg's voice cut through her dazed thoughts. "Nicky, where did you go?"

      "Hm? What do you mean?" she murmured, pinning her hair up into a simple chignon.

      "I mean," her husband said, walking up behind her, "you seemed to be deep in thought. Or did you fall asleep for a minute with your eyes open?" He grinned, now, the familiar jocular Greg returning.

      She shrugged. "I don't know. So, where are we going tonight? What's the big surprise?"

      Greg's smile faded. He looked intently at her reflection in the mirror and she raised her eyebrows, surprised by how different he seemed again, all of a sudden. Serious, intense. It made her stomach flutter and her hand automatically rested over it.

      "Never mind where we're going. But," he slid a finger under the shoulder strap of her knee-length, cream colored silk shift dress, "you're going to have to change."

      Nicola stiffened. Greg never told her what to wear. He barely noticed what she wore, these days. "Why? You won't tell me where we're going, so I had to wear something that would be appropriate anywhere. Unless, of course, we're going to McDonalds, in which case let me go put on jeans and sneakers."

      Greg shook his head, still not smiling. He reached for the pins in her hair and picked them out, slowly, letting her hair drop and tumble down her back. "Leave your hair down, tonight," he said, simply.

      Nicola sighed. This was becoming annoying. "Okay, Greg, whatever you want. But what am I wearing if I must change?"

      He smiled, finally. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, his voice dropping low. He lifted her hand from her lap and pulled her up out of her chair. "Come with me."

      Greg led her into their bedroom. Nicola gasped when she saw what was laid out on the bed, and when Greg laughed at her reaction she whirled around, angrily. "Is this some sort of birthday
joke?"
She stared at her husband. His eyes were narrowed and a decidedly wicked smile was on his face.

      "It's no joke, babe," he said. He moved closer and reached around to slowly unzip her dress, his hands slipping between the pieces of fabric and running down her back. They spread outward and gave the conservative garment one last flick and it dropped to the floor and pooled around her ankles. He looked her up and down. "Yep, these have to go, too." He snapped her bra strap.

      Nicola was seething now. She stomped out of the dress on the floor and crossed her arms over her - okay, it was boring - plain white bra. But anything else would have shown through the silk dress, either because of the color or texture, and really...

      "Nic! Pay attention!" Greg grabbed her arms, a real smile breaking the tension in the room. "Now. Just put these things on and have a little fun with it, would you?" He flopped onto the bed and leaned back on his elbows to watch her.

      Nicola blew out a gusty sigh and turned to survey the outfit that was laid out on their bed beside him. Everything from undergarments to boots was there, so she slowly unhooked her bra and slid it off her shoulders, tossing it to the floor where her dress still lay. She glanced up, knowing Greg would be softening at this point. Well, his attitude would be softening, anyway. As she slowly slipped out of her panties she noticed that his eyes were indeed softening with desire, but something else was growing hard, and pushing up in his dark slacks like a tent pole. She cocked her head to one side, letting her long hair half fall across her face as she smiled seductively and ran a hand over her bare breasts. Greg grew visibly larger but he shook his head and pointed at the clothes on the bed. "Not yet, birthday girl," he said, his voice husky and deep.

      Nicola looked over the undergarments before her. She picked up the panties first. Black lace, all over. She slipped them on and turned toward the mirror. They were totally see-through, barely masking her. She turned back to reach for the bra. It too was black lace, demi-cup. She slipped it on and hooked it in the back. Nicola wasn't exactly voluptuous, but her breasts were enough to fill this unpadded, unlined piece of lace and softly swelled above the cup line. Greg knew her body well, she thought, watching him watch her, his lips slightly parted.

      She turned her attention back to the next piece, a black garter belt. Simple, unadorned, it looked more like a piece of bondage equipment, with the hanging straps, than flirty lingerie. She fastened it around her waist, shivering at the feel of the straps on her thighs as she lay down on the bed, lifted one knee to her chest and slowly drew on the first thigh-high fishnet stocking and clipped it to the straps of the belt. She reached for the matching stocking and turned to her husband. "Do you want to put this one on for me?" She asked, feeling powerful as he helplessly flipped over and crawled across the bed to oblige her.

      Her pulse quickened and she felt heat rush between her thighs as he slowly skimmed her leg with the mesh fabric and snapped the garter straps into place. he ran his fingers under the belt straps, up her thighs and paused as she shivered, wanting him to move to the center beneath her panties. Finally, after she felt herself grow wet and heat pulsed through her pussy in anticipation, he slipped one finger inside the black lace and pressed it into her. She sucked in her breath at the pressure that caused so much pleasure already, and she squirmed to cause some movement. Instantly he removed his finger.

      "Oh come on," she whined, her body tingling for more.

      He shook his head. "Nope. We have to get ready. I'm just making sure you're in the right mood."

      Nicola wasn't going to let him get away with that, not on her birthday, she thought. She reached for the bulge in his pants but he rolled away from her and sat up against the pillows. "Keep dressing."

      She sighed and picked up the boots. They were also black, made of shiny leather and very high heeled. "Mm. Hooker boots." She slipped her feet into them and zipped up the side, even more turned on than she was before at the feel of the leather hugging her calves. They reached her knees and in just the lingerie and these boots she knew she looked hotter and more aggressively sexual than her husband had ever seen her. She could feel his eyes on her back as she stepped into the short, A-line black skirt and the low cut white stretch tank top.          

      "Okay, Greg, I get it. We're staying in tonight and having some fun, right?"

      He shook his head. "Nope. We're going out, trust me."

      Nicola gestured to her outfit. "I can't go anywhere in public dressed like this!"

      "Shhh, you won't be in public. I promise."

      "Going out is public!"

      "Just trust me. Or not," he teased, throwing his feet over the edge of the bed and standing. "Now close your eyes. I'll be right back."

      After what felt like an eternity, Nicola heard Greg's footsteps in the room, approaching her. She felt his hands run up her arms, sending shivers through her. What was with him, today? He brushed his fingertips against her neck before she felt a silky fabric slipped over her eyes. He tied it in the back.

      "What is this?"

      "What do you think it is?" His tone was gently mocking. He didn't let her answer. "It's a blindfold. Come on, birthday girl. Just listen to my instructions and I'll get you to the car safely."

      It was a cool night for September, but Greg turned up the heat in the car and Nicola tried to relax in her seat. They drove in silence. Once or twice she tried to wheedle information out of him but he told her nothing. She could hear the sounds of city traffic and knew they were far from their quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. Finally she felt the car slow and turn, she assumed into a parking lot. Her deduction was confirmed when she felt the car swerve into a spot and park, rather than parallel parking on a city street.

      She felt Greg's hand work the knot at the back of her head and her blindfold fell to her lap. The car was parked up against a high wall, and she eagerly twisted to see what was behind them. The lot appeared to be in some kind of industrial area, other lots with warehouse-like buildings around the lot they were in, so you couldn't tell what part of the city you were in. Two security guards stood at the entrance to their lot, dressed in black cargo pants, black boots and black jackets.

      Greg got out of the car and came around to open her door for her. She opened her mouth to ask
where are we
but his look told her to remain quiet. He offered her an arm and she stepped out of the car and turned to see another couple, the woman dressed much like her, walking up a ramp along the side of the building that led to an unmarked door. They knocked on the door and another security guard, entirely in SWAT attire like the others, swung it open and beckoned them inside.