Truly, someone needs to write a book on sex club etiquette, cause it feels like I have no clue what I’m doing. We’re not dating, we don’t owe each other our time, but it’s also so fucking good. Part of me almost wants to bypass the club itself. Not a full-blown relationship, but an agreement of sorts.
It would be so much easier if I could text him and ask him if he wanted to fuck and get an idea of what type of night it would be. Am I going to get bossy in charge Ben? Or am I going to get soft and sweet, compliant Ben? It’s unreal how he can bewhatever I need him to be, and I wonder if he feels the same about me.
God, now I sound like a girl with a crush, and I’m not a girl with a crush.
I’m a woman who’s getting the best sex of her life, and I won’t let feelings get in the mix. Nope, it’s simple, an agreement between our bodies and nothing else. Of course, there’s a level of trust in what we do, and small talk will happen, but friends small talk all the time.
Ben is my hot, very fucking hot, sex club friend, that’s it.
If I go to Avalon and he’s not there, am I willing to hook up with someone else? I’m honestly not sure. It would be the smart thing to do. We aren’t exclusive. Far from it, it would probably be a good idea to go and fuck someone else.
Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll go to Avalon and see what else the club has to offer.
There’s splashing to my right and a cute toddler is kicking her feet in the water.
“Mommy won’t let go of you, just keep kicking your feet,” the pretty blonde woman says to her toddler. I smile as I watch the sweet moment, until I glance next to them and I feel my heart sink into my ass.
It’s Ben.
It’s Ben holding a baby that looks exactly like him, and when I glance at the little girl, she doesn’t look too far off, either. She probably favors her mother.
Guilt drips through me, which is replaced by absolute rage.
Does his wife have any idea what he does at night? What he does at the bar he owns?
I lift myself over the edge, hating myself, hating men even more.
Why? Why do they have to look so good when they’re all fucking evil? How can he have that at home, a wife and two kids, and do what we did behind closed doors at Avalon?
There’s a chance they have an agreement, but I doubt it. He fucked me without a condom and then went home to his wife, his devastatingly beautiful wife.
Why couldn’t I be into women? I tried. Really, I gave it my best, but it just goes to prove that sexuality isn’t a choice. Cause as of right now, I want to swear off men. I thought going to Avalon would be a safe place to find like-minded people. That it was a sure thing, that I wouldn’t get hurt or have to deal with the ordeal of having feelings.
Well, I’m having feelings, big ones, and I fucking hate it.
He’s just some guy I fucked. I shouldn’t care. It’s not like I knew he had a wife. God, that poor woman. I know what that pain feels like and even if I was ignorant of what he was doing, this motherfucker made me cause harm.
I’m trying to get out of the pool so he doesn’t see me.
“Kate?”
Looks like I literally have zero luck.
“You’re her?” his wife asks in a shocked tone, making me shimmy out of the pool faster.
Did his wife find out what he’s been doing late at night, or do they have some sort of open relationship? Either way, I don’t like being lied to, and that’s how I feel right now.
“Fuck,” Ben hisses as I briskly walk to the locker room.
I’m about three feet from the door when a hand wraps around my bicep.
“Kate, give me a second,” he says, and I turn around to see a chunky, precious baby on his hip.
It isn’t that I didn’t like kids. In fact, I find them honest and sweet. It’s that I don’t have the desire to be a mother for many reasons. Seeing him hold his son makes me feel things, though.It makes me feel lied to. It makes me feel silly for romanticizing the nights we had together.
I feel used again, and I hate that I let someone do that to me again.
“He’s my nephew. That’s my niece, and that’s my sister-in-law,” he says quickly.
