Turning the Tide (Eastern Shore Swingers, #5) Page 2

  No, came the resounding answer.

  But then, a tiny voice stood its ground: you deserve some fun too, Luke.

  “Cap said you moved here from California.” As soon as he said it, he remembered she’d been advised not to give out personal information. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Oh, it’s okay!” She leaned forward and rested her hand on his knee, the impact of which was immediately felt between his legs. “I did move from California to be closer to Casey. I figure we’re getting older, and she had breast cancer, so I want to spend as much time together as we can. I grew up on the Shore, just up by the Bay Bridge. We used to come down to OC all the time when I was growing up. I’m not surprised Casey wanted to put down roots here. It’s a really nice place.”

  “Yeah, my wife’s family always visited here when she was growing up as well. That’s how I ended up down here.”

  When the word “wife” came out of his mouth, he nearly fell off the barstool. It wasn’t that he wanted to lie about his status. That wasn’t his intention at all, but he was hoping to bring it up a little later, once Connie had fallen in love with him.

  Okay, not in love with him. In lust with him. After all, that was what he wanted...ultimately, right?

  Like he’d even dared dream. Just the possibility of it was a fantasy he wasn’t sure he deserved to have.

  But she didn’t bat an eyelash at the word. She just prattled on about moving from California. “My kids are older now, and they are a plane ride away whether I’m here or there, so I might as well be here with my sister. Cost of living is a hell of a lot cheaper too. I’m not retired yet—I start my new job Monday, as a matter of fact—but it will be a lot cheaper for me to retire here than out west, that is for damn sure.”

  Maybe she is nervous, he surmised by the way she capped off her speech with a huge gulp of her pink drink. She signaled to the bartender for another. He certainly didn’t mind if she did all the talking. It was nice to just sit with a woman and talk, especially when the talking wasn’t about sinus infections or deviated septa or post-nasal drip.

  They both finished two more drinks while they continued their pleasant small talk. It was almost all Connie sharing about her kids and grandkids, nothing about her work or ex-husband, though. Luke inserted the appropriate reactions: smiles, nods, and a few words of affirmation here and there. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

  Then she looked right into his eyes and asked, “Do you want to dance?”

  He didn’t even respond, just rose to his feet and offered her his arm to escort her onto the parquet floor. She smiled as she took it, and there was that electricity bolting through him again. It jolted into his heart and then straight down to his cock. It is getting late, he noticed when he stole a glance at his watch while guiding her to the far corner of the dance space.

  He knew he had very little chance of sealing the deal before he needed to leave, but at this point he didn’t care. Just meeting Connie and being asked to dance far surpassed his expectations for the evening. He took her into his arms as the DJ met his gaze and nodded. The upbeat music faded into a relaxed, swaying beat—a slow song. The dude in the booth was doing him a solid. He lifted his eyes to the short dark-skinned man and smiled his thanks. The DJ winked back.

  She pressed her body into his, and he was worried she could feel his arousal straining back. If she could feel it, she either liked it or didn’t mind, because she only seemed to nuzzle closer to him. The top of her head came just to his chin, and they fit together like puzzle pieces. Every once in a while her breath would fan his neck, and he thought he might explode from the pressure in his pants. But he somehow managed to keep swaying to the beat. The whiskey sours were likely the reason.

  “I feel bad,” she suddenly said, and he turned his gaze down to meet hers, lifting his eyebrows quizzically at her statement. “Yeah, I’ve totally monopolized you tonight, your first time at a swinger club.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I do not mind at all. I almost feel like I’m on a regular date, and that’s a good thing.” He smiled down at her.

  “So, you don’t want to go down the hall and see if we can spot some people doin’ the nasty?” She played serious at first then burst into laughter, unable to contain her joke.

  “Well, we can if that’s what you want to do.” He was pretty certain he’d go anywhere in the building, witness any scene if she were accompanying him.

  “Actually, I’m pretty comfortable right here.” She tightened her grip around his neck as if to emphasize her statement.

  He barely knew her or anything about her, but there was something that felt so incredibly right about having Connie in his arms, swaying back and forth to the slow, entrancing rhythm of the ballad the DJ had selected. When his eyes met hers, all of his earlier trepidation faded away, as did the swirling lights and the rest of the people on the dance floor around them. It was just him and this beautiful stranger.

  She craned her neck toward him as he instinctively began to lower his mouth toward her lips, and when her eyes fluttered closed, instinct took over. His mouth brushed against hers tentatively at first, a soft caress until a slight moan parted her lips. He pulled her closer yet as his tongue delved out to take his first taste of her. She was sweet like her pink drink and so delicious. The hunger inside him that had been ignored and pushed down for so long reawakened with a vengeance.

  He’d forgotten what this felt like, raw passion, every cell in his body sizzling with need. The hunger began to consume him as her fingers threaded through his thick hair and pulled him even closer. His hands ventured down to the curve of her ass, squeezing her two firm globes as he pressed her body to his. He knew the exact moment she felt his arousal because her moan deepened into something so erotic and primal, he very nearly whisked her off the dance floor and into one of the private rooms down the hall they’d just been joking about moments earlier.

  And just like that, a voice inside his head forced him to break away from her and steal another glance at his watch. Midnight had come and gone.

  He was going to be late.

  Apologies flew out of his mouth as the adrenaline coursed through his veins where desire had just raced. “I’ve gotta go, Connie. I’m so sorry.”

  “What? Why?” She nearly laughed, thinking it was a joke.

  “I’m so sorry...I...”

  He’d never had a chance to explain his situation.

  Because he knew the rejection would come shortly thereafter.

  At least he’d gotten a kiss. Not just any kiss. The kiss of a lifetime. Of his lifetime, anyway.

  Moments later, he was the male version of Cinderella scrambling for his pumpkin coach, throwing one furtive glance over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t left behind a glass slipper.

  Or anything else incriminating.

  TWO

  Marriage may often be a stormy lake, but celibacy is almost always a muddy horse pond. – Thomas Love Peacock

  Luke dreaded what awaited him at home. If I can beat her and get the dog out for a walk before she gets back, that would be for the best. Then she would never know I was out of the house.

  He felt a sharp stab to his gut when the garage door slowly opened to reveal his wife’s silver sedan parked under the dim light. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

  She had gone to Washington DC to see a play at the Kennedy Center with her sister, and he thought for sure she’d either be home after 1 AM—DC traffic was a bitch, sometimes even late at night—or she’d end up crashing at her sister’s place.

  No such luck, he thought. Not that he ever had good luck. If he were to have any type of luck, it was always bad luck.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Barbara’s shrill voice pounded against his skull. He’d felt completely fine in the car, still aflutter from his encounter with Connie. But as soon as he spotted that car in the garage, the blood vessels in his head constricted. His heart squeezed in his chest, making it harder for it to p
ump blood.

  “I was playing poker with Cap and the guys,” he lied. Well, he had been with Cap. And people had been playing. Not poker, but still. There were guys there.

  Who am I kidding? I’m a fucking liar.

  “Does that mean you haven’t taken Alfie out?” Her brows were furrowed, such a common expression that deep grooves had been etched into the space between her eyes. She wore a constant mask of anger and had been carving ever-deeper wrinkles into that real estate for so many years now, Luke had forgotten what she looked like before, when they were younger.

  Only it wasn’t a mask. It was just her. Resting bitch face? No. It was her permanent face. She rarely smiled.

  “I haven’t yet, but I will.” He brushed past her to retrieve the dog’s leash from the hook by the door to the garage. “Alfie?” Their bushy collie groggily wandered in from the living room where he had apparently been napping on the sofa, his favorite spot.

  “When you get back in, will you fold the laundry in the dryer? Oh, and the dishwasher needs to be unloaded.” Her face was stone cold as she glared at him. These weren’t questions. They were commands. “I’m exhausted, so I’m going to get some sleep. Goodnight.”

  He didn’t bother to answer her. He slipped the leash onto Alfie and guided the dog through the door and down the steps into the garage. The cool night air washed over him, helping to burn away some of the resentment desperately trying to bubble up inside him.

  There was a time, when he was a younger, more foolish man, that he would have told Barbara exactly where she could stick that laundry she wanted him to fold and the dishes she wanted him to put away. She was no longer capable of doing any housework, so she kept a running Honey Do List for him—which she reminded him of daily. Sometimes hourly. It didn’t take many arguments before he realized how futile arguing with her was.

  That was when the threats, accusations and guilt trips would fly into him as if she’d just launched an entire quiver full of arrows right at his heart.

  You don’t care that I’m sick and will never be well again.

  What kind of husband would demand his sick wife get out of bed to do his laundry?

  You vowed to love me in sickness and in health.

  I’m sure you’re out cheating on me, and that’s why you can’t get all your work done around here.

  If you can’t take care of me, then I’m going to take you for every penny you’re worth.

  The doctor told you I couldn’t handle your relentless attacks! He’s going to be so angry when he has to prescribe more anxiety medication.

  You don’t even TRY to understand what it’s like to be me!

  Well, I guess you’ll be sleeping on the sofa again tonight. Apparently you don’t love me enough to want to sleep in the same room with me.

  At least that last one was no longer valid. He had maintained his own bedroom, his refuge, for years now. That was after a month or two of being relegated to the couch. One morning he’d simply woken up and thought, I’m a doctor. I don’t have to deal with this bullshit. I’ll just buy another bed.

  When it was being delivered and set up in the room he used for a home office, Barbara carried on and on:

  You don’t even want to sleep with your wife anymore. What kind of husband chooses to sleep in another room?

  I can’t help it if I’m sick and need my space. Why do you have to constantly make me feel guilty for it?

  Good, I was hoping I would get our bedroom set in the divorce when you finally leave me for whatever whore you’re screwing. It’s much nicer than what you picked out.

  There were days he prayed she’d file for divorce. He wished there was a God of Marital Dissatisfaction he could lobby for a lucky break. Hell, even a trial separation would have been a godsend. But every time he tried to nudge her in that direction, she fought back more venomously than ever.

  Oh, sure, just abandon me with no health insurance and no one to take care of me. Never mind that you vowed to love me in sickness and in health, till death do us part.

  Go ahead and divorce me, Luke, because I swear to God I’m going to make your life a living hell! You think this is bad? Just wait until I take all your money.

  What would the kids think if they knew their father just up and left their mother with nothing? They would hate you forever, that’s what!

  At times, he believed having all of his wealth stripped away would be worth it—a justified price for freedom. He had a wild fantasy of buying an RV, and him and Alfie setting out across the US on a wild adventure.

  But then Barbara raised the stakes.

  As she always did.

  She threatened to try to get his medical license taken away from him.

  Now, that might seem farfetched. Even he realized that. But Barbara’s parents were both attorneys, and so were her brother and her sister. Her entire family was known for their vindictive lawsuits. When she was in high school, her father managed to get Barbara’s math teacher fired after he’d given her a poor grade—and that was back in the eighties.

  Alfie pulled on his leash, straining toward the tiny strip of beach that lined the bay where their home overlooked the calm, lapping waters that separated the mainland from the thin strip of land known as Ocean City, Maryland. It was a chilly late spring night, but Luke knew being down by the water would instill a sense of peace. Besides, he could already tell the moonlight spilling across the water’s silvery surface was breathtaking. It seemed like his good ole boy Alfie wanted to share the beautiful sight with him.

  Nights like this, he tried to dwell on the positive. Otherwise, he’d be so full of rage and misery he wasn’t sure what he would do. Maybe he’d step foot in the bay and just keep walking until he was buried underneath the tranquil waves—though he knew damn well the bay was probably too shallow for him to drown in.

  What are the positives? he asked himself as his eyes trailed over the highlighted ridges and shadowed valleys of the rolling water.

  I have a damn good job.

  I am pretty good at what I do.

  I have good friends like Cap and Jim (his partner at his ENT practice).

  I have this loyal canine companion.

  And I got to kiss a beautiful woman tonight.

  Compared to his usual survey of “the positives,” it seemed like a particularly good night. He had forgotten the last time his lips had touched a woman’s. Barbara hadn’t kissed him in nearly a decade.

  After getting his fill of the water and crisp moonlit air, he and Alfie headed back up the embankment and entered the house through the deck door. Then he did the chores Barbara had mentioned before he retired to his bedroom, which she always referred to as his “man cave.” Having a bedroom was too civilized for him. It had to be a man cave.

  Thoughts of the lovely blonde he’d spent the evening with filled his mind as he arranged his weary limbs under the sheets. The mere memory of her in his arms, the way she smelled and the softness of her lips raised his cock. He felt it straining against the sheet insistently, striving for his attention.

  It had been a while since he’d taken care of his needs. After Cap invited him to The Factory, he wondered if it was best to wait, let the tension build for a few days. He also worried it had been so long since he’d had the real thing, maybe he wouldn’t be able to perform with a partner.

  Use it or lose it.

  That was one of his greatest fears, but at forty-eight, he didn’t know if he would ever find out if that scary monster of a fear was even worth his attention. Maybe I will never have sex again. That was even scarier than the fear he could, in fact, lose it.

  He pictured Connie leaning against him, relaxed in his arms as they swayed to the beat of the music. Every once in a while she would look up at him and shoot a searing gaze of seduction straight into his eyes. It was that image of her he conjured up as his hand slipped down under the sheet and wrapped around his manhood.

  Even though it was his own touch, his breath hitched at first contact. He pretended
it was her; it was Connie taking hold of his cock, sizing him up. He never knew if he was an average size or bigger. He was fairly sure he wasn’t small. His high school girlfriend said he was huge, and Barbara had told him multiple times he was too thick for her comfort—back when they used to actually fuck.

  They did actually fuck at one point. I mean, we have a son and a daughter, for Chrissakes.

  No, he chided himself. I’m done thinking of Barbara tonight. I’m not going to let her ruin one of the few pleasures I have in my own damn house.

  Replacing his thoughts of Barbara with those of Connie, his cock sprang to attention again after slightly wilting. What if Connie didn’t just want to touch his cock? What if she wanted to taste it too? What if she brought it to her lips, savoring the feel of his velvety glans against her sensitive tongue? What if she stroked that tongue up and down his shaft, running over the veins and around the ridge underneath the crown? What if she sucked it into her mouth and plunged it deep into her throat?

  His hand was moving now, imagining all of this unfold. He felt a warm substance seep onto the edge of his hand. His desire was oozing out. His balls were drawing up hard and tight, ready to explode as he let his imagination run wild with the fantasy of the woman at the club.

  “Connie...” the name floated off his lips as he envisioned her cheeks hollowed out, bobbing up and down on his throbbing shaft until she stopped and glanced up at him with a glint of wickedness in her eyes.

  Do you want to come in my mouth or somewhere else? she asked him, her voice raspy with passion.

  I’ll come wherever you want, he gave the answer in his mind.

  But it was too late at that point. Thick, spurting strings of hot white spawn fired out the head of his cock as his body jerked with pleasure. It shot through him so fast and without warning, it felt like his undoing had been someone else’s doing.

  It had been hers.

  But it was too wild a fantasy to ever hope it would actually come true.