“Oh.” I shifted in the seat. “The sex club.”

“Yeah. Remember that I told you about their member website where you can chat with other people? It was an email about that. My membership ends pretty soon.”

“I told you I didn’t want to go to that club.” I moved my knee away, irritated by the conversation.

“I know. But what do you think about doing it again?” He rested his wrist on the steering wheel. Immediately, I missed his touch. “Elle?” he prodded.

“It? You mean, hooking up with Aaron? I thought we agreed not to do anything with him again. We can’t, E. It’s too—”

He wrapped a hand around my wrist and I fell silent as he pulled it to his mouth. As he kissed the back of my hand, I curled toward him, desperate for more. “Not with Aaron. Would you want to do something with someone else?”

I laced my fingers through his as I thought over the question. “Why? I mean… I don’t need that.” But I craved it. I wanted that look back in E’s eyes. That raw possession. The dominant way he had fucked me in front of Aaron. Maybe I did need it. Right now, my hips twisting into the seat, my body humming back to life… we had just had sex. Hot, filthy, scream-out-his-name-at-the-top-of-my-lungs sex. Yet I was already ready for more. Dirtier. Kinkier sex.

“I might need it.” Easton said the words so calmly I almost missed them. “I’ve been thinking about it, a lot. A lot more than I should be.”

“What part of it?”

“All of it. The visuals…” He ran a rough hand through his hair. “Fuck. You were so hot, Elle. So fucking hot. So wet and willing and horny. Which, you always are—but having someone else see that part of you and be blown away by that… I was so proud of you. So proud of us. So turned on to see how badly he wanted you. And I agree, we can’t meet with Aaron again. But, I do think we should find someone else. Someone new.”

Wow. I settled back in the seat and pulled at the belt, giving myself more breathing room. Maybe I didn’t need the real estate success. Maybe my contribution to our marriage could be my voracious sexual appetite. I smiled at the thought. “Where would we find someone? In that membership group?” I was part of nineteen Facebook groups, most focused on makeup, used item sales, and real estate marketing. I tried to imagine an online group centered around fucking, and envisioned it containing every creepy Instagram stalker I’d ever had.

“I don’t know. But I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do. Or push you into anything. When I said I need it, I just meant that it’s been stuck in my head. Constantly.”

I liked the idea of him thinking about it. Liked the idea of his dick growing hard, his visualization of the act, the way he’d described me. “Finding a stranger on an internet site… I don’t know. I’m worried we’ll become that couple.”

“What couple?”

“You know. Those creepy couples. Like cuckolds and stuff. And I’ll be that wife. Like, a swinger wife.” I had a horrific thought. “I guess I already am that wife.”

He chuckled. “We had one threesome, Elle. I don’t think it’s branded you into a category.”

“Well, I feel differently,” I shot back. “And I’m worried you’ll look at me differently. It’s like that cocksucker joke.”

He shot me a glance as he made a turn. “Which one?”

“You know, the one about the old couple.”

“I don’t know that one.”

I sighed. “Yes, you do. Aaron’s mom told it to us at his rehearsal dinner. Right before she did that ridiculous toast.”

“That was years ago, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. Tell it to me.”

There was road construction ahead, a group of men bent over a brightly-lit hole in the ground. Easton put on his blinker and slowed. I cleared my throat and started the joke. “This old couple was celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. The wife asked the husband what he wanted as a gift. And the man said he wanted a blowjob, that he’d never had one.”

“The guy was married fifty years and had never had a blowjob?”

“I think it’s a generational thing. I don’t think they gave blowjobs back in the fifties. That was when they slept in separate beds. Look, the guy wants you to turn right.”

“If I turn right, I have to go all the way around on Fulton. It’s a one-way.”

“Well, it’s blocked off.”

He turned with an irritated scowl and I grabbed the dash as the Range Rover bounced over a huge pothole.

“Okay, so what did she say?”

“She told him that she’d always been afraid to give him a blowjob because she thought he wouldn’t look at her the same way. When the man heard this, he gathered her in his arms and told her that they had been married for fifty years.” I warmed to the story, drawing out the vowels as I painted the picture of the joke. “She was the mother of his children. She’d nursed him through cancer treatments. There was nothing she could do to cause him to lose respect for her.”

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