I shake my head and keep staring at the scene in front of us when he walks away. I find myself taking a step forward, fascinated by everything they’re doing. Admittedly, my sexual experience is fairly limited, but even if I was experienced, I don’t think I’d be prepared for that. I watch the three closest to me. A guy with a porn-worthy penis is sucking a woman’s nipples while the man behind him kisses his neck. They’re both thrashing, begging for more. It’s intense.
“You can join,” Mallory says, her breath in my ear making me jolt. She laughs and sets a hand on my waist, pulling me toward her as she stands beside me. “There aren’t many rules, which is what I like, and they keep it simple with the different colored wristbands.”
I look at my bands—one white and one red. I hadn’t realized we weren’t all wearing the same ones. “What do these mean?”
“White means you need to ask about relationship status, so that’ll be the first question they ask you.” Her eyes sparkle as she brings her face closer to mine. “The red means safeword, so, well, do with that what you will. They used all of the questions you answered to pick the right colors for each of us.”
“Oh.”
I look at hers. One red, and the other white with black stripes. Then at Livie, who only has a red one. Devon’s is the same. I look around until I spot Tate at the bar, smiling at something the woman pouring drinks is saying. I can’t see his from here, but I think I remember what he had. I glance at Mal’s arm again.
“What does white with black stripes mean?”
“Threesome, or rather, multiples, but most people just go with threesomes.” She tears her gaze from me and looks at the scene in front of us. “Or this.”
“Oh.” I turn back to the orgy in front of us.
She’d told me recently that she liked to experiment, but I didn’t think she meant this. She’s Mallory Barlow, and while she may not have been born into that family, it doesn’t make her any less oneof them. They’re always so … proper. Mal is definitely the black sheep, but even still, she doesn’t publicly do anything that’ll bring shame to her family name.
A wave of heat sears through me when I glance at Tate again and get a glimpse of the white and black band on his arm. I bite my tongue for just a second. I don’t understand how someone can go from begging for me to give a serious relationship with him a real shot, and talking about marriage in the freaking lobby, to wanting a threesome and telling me to go “have fun.”
“What’s wrong?” Mal asks, gripping my waist.
I bite back a laugh and look around quickly to see if I spot Olivia. I don’t, but I know she would probably be laughing her ass off if she could see me. She swears Mallory has a crush on me—which is ridiculous—and told me I shouldn’t show her too much affection. Which is also ridiculous and not the easiest thing for me to do. I come from a long line of people whose love language is touch. For us, hugs, kisses on the cheek, and hand-holding are natural. With friends, with partners, with parents. It’s just how we are. And Mallory, well, she’s starved for affection.
“Joss?”
I blink. “Tate has a threesome band on.”
She drops her hand from my waist and pulls away, frowning as she looks at my bands again. “I thought you guys discussed tonight?”
“We did, and in the lobby, he all of a sudden decided he wanted me to ‘go have fun.’”
“Maybe you should then.”
I bite my tongue so I don’t say anything that might offend her. While this may not be my scene, it is Mallory’s, and it took her a while to admit that to herself and to us. The last thing I want is to shame her in any way. I take a deep breath and look at her.
“I respect that you like this. I think it’s super cool that you’re able to let yourself go and actually enjoy it,” I say. “But you know it’s not my thing.”
“I can’t imagine why. If I had a body like yours…” She shakes her head. “I would take full advantage.”
“What are you talking about? You’re perfect.”
She smiles sadly. “I went to therapy for years and was told that over and over, but you’re the only person who’s actually made me believe it.”
I grab her hand and squeeze it.
She sighs heavily. “There’s a bar down the hall. It’s beautiful and it’s fun. No one will be naked or doing anything in there that might make you uncomfortable. Go have a drink, or water, or whatever.” She pulls me into a tight hug, smothering me with her Chanel No. 5. “If you want to leave, I totally understand.”
“I’m not going to leave. We said we’d go for pizza after, remember? Besides, I want to be here,” I say, which isn’t a complete lie. “You go have fun. I’m going to head to the bar.”
She gives me one last long look before she leaves. I look down at my wristbands again and think about my conversation with Tate last night. He seemed curious, but not overzealous about coming, so I figured it would be perfect for us to check the place out and watch without actually participating.
Now that I know he only has a white and black wristband, I take a deep breath and step away from the partition, ready to tell Livie about this, but she’s gone. As are Devon and Tate. I look around as I head to the bar Tate was just at. The woman who had been there just moments before is gone, replaced by a man wearing a bow tie and the shortest and tightest black briefs I’ve ever seen. He smiles wide when he sees me.
“Cocktail of the night?” He points at the small digital board that displays a picture of the drink and its contents. “It’s included in the admission.”
“In that case, yes. I have a feeling I’m going to need a little liquid courage.”
