“Oh, he was just getting ready for tonight, you know?”
A lightbulb must go off in Erin’s mind because she nods in understanding. “Shaving his balls?” Her friend nods right back at her.
As I bounce my eyes across the group of women, I notice they’re all wearing a bracelet just like Erin’s—silver with small pineapple charms dangling from it.
And then it hits me.
Oh My God!I’ve read about this in a romance novel that Noelle shoved in my face. Pineapples are a universal symbol for swingers, and I suddenly realize that Damien and I got ourselves into way more mischief than either of us bargained for tonight.
Trying to keep my composure, but shaking from my revelation, I manage to squeak a few words out. “Uh, can you point me in the direction of the restroom, please? This wine is just running right through me,” I say through a nervous laugh.
“Oh, absolutely.” Erin guides me through the kitchen with her arm around my waist, resting her hand on my lower back. “It’s right down this hallway, third door on your right.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Charlotte. And just so you know, I think you’re absolutely stunning. And Damien is such a handsome man. It’s so nice to welcome a new couple into the group, and I think you two will fit right in with us.” With a wink, she spins on her heels and heads back into the kitchen as I scurry to the table by the front door where I left my purse, grab my phone, and then race down the hallway to the bathroom, locking myself inside. Now all of the undertones in their compliments suddenly make sense.
I pull up Damien’s number, press call, and wait for him to answer. But it rings a few times and then just goes to his voicemail.
“Dammit. Pick up!” I whisper shout, trying not to be loud but panicking.
I press call again, and this time he actually picks up. “Charlotte?”
“Damien,” I hiss into the phone. “We have a problem.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the bathroom.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No, everything is not okay, Damien. Do you have any idea what your boss invited you to this evening?”
He pauses, clearly confused. “Uh, a dinner so I could get in with my superiors—which was going really well until this phone call interrupted it.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, Damien, but that’s not the only reason we’re here.”
“It’s not? Fuck, Charlotte, what is going on?” I can sense the irritation in his voice, so I decide to go with the cold, hard truth.
“Dave, his wife, and their friends—they’re swingers, Damien.”
Silence fills the line until I hear muffled laughter. “Charlotte…are you stoned?”
“What? No!” I huff out a breath in frustration. “Damien, I’m serious.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What makes you think that?”
“First of all, there was a pineapple on the front porch. Then, Erin and her friends are all wearing bracelets with pineapples on them.”
“What? What do pineapples have anything to do with this?”
“Are you living under a rock? Pineapples are the universal symbol for swingers!”
“Wow. The fact that you know this is alarming.”
“It’s part of my job to be in touch with social norms and trends.”
“Knowing about other people’s sex lives is not something you should be concerned about.”
“It is if I’m going to be asked to participate,” I counter. “I’m telling you, Damien, you should have heard the conversation Erin and Deidra were having. Deidra’s husband apparently shaved his balls for tonight.”
Damien goes quiet, but then he sounds like he’s finally believing me. “That is something I could have lived my entire life without knowing, but okay, say you’re right. That doesn’t mean we have to participate. Hate to break it to you, but I’m not one that likes to share my women, fake girlfriend or not.”
Relief comes out in a harsh exhale, but that doesn’t solve the problem entirely. “I agree.”
“And I really hate you right now because all I’m thinking about is Hank’s balls.”
“I’m unfortunately in the same boat. So how do we get out of this?”
“Relax, Charlotte. I’ll think of something.”
“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.”
Damien laughs again. “Just trust me.”
“Damien, I’ve never trusted you in my life.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything, Charlotte. And you’re just going to have to have faith in me.”
“You owe me after this.”
“What? Why?”
“Because nowhere in our agreement did you mention that I would have to fight off swingers during this dinner.”
Damien is laughing at me again. “Hell, sweet pea, I didn’t know you’d have to either. But if I’m betting on anyone to win, it’s you.”
Somehow his back-handed compliment makes me smile. “Good. Okay, I’ve been in here for a while. I should probably go out there.”
“We could always just say you got the runs and that’s why we have to leave…”
“Fuck you, Damien. I’m not using diarrhea as an excuse to get out of this. Think of something else.”
“Yes, honey,” he quips, and then the line goes silent. I stare down at my phone in my hand. Did that dickhead just hang up on me?
Staring at myself in the mirror, I don’t know whether to be mortified or confident that a bunch of married people want to have sex with me. And hey, I’m not one to judge. There are plenty of people out there that do things in their relationships that I may never understand, but that doesn’t mean it’s something I’m interested in nor that I need to know about it.
However, fake relationship or not, there will be no swinging going on with Damien and me.
Apparently, I didn’t start drinking early enough in the evening for this.
* * *