Read Online Hot Dates: Becoming a Shared Wife by Kirsten McCurran - Free Book Online Page B

this?” He didn’t really need to answer. He looked eager to get to it. I don’t think I’d seen him so excited since that night with Shane and Lisa. He took both my hands and stared down at me like he was trying to memorize this moment.
    “Do you really want to do this?” he asked.
    I nodded, but didn’t feel as confident as I tried to appear. It wasn’t that I wanted to back out; I just felt so weird about what we were doing. It was something like how I felt before the first day of high school—scared and excited at the same time, unsure of what was going to happen. I knew this could be a disaster if Dave did not respond the way he thought he would. What if I enjoyed it too much ? It wasn’t like a man I met in a bar was going to get me to leave my husband, but I know extreme thrills can become addictive. I pushed all of my fears down.
    “I love you,” I said.
    “Love you too, babe.”
    We kissed.
    “See you downstairs,” I said.
    The plan was for me to go down and get comfortable at the bar and Dave would follow in about twenty minutes. We didn’t even want anyone to see us walk in there together, afraid that someone may put two and two together. That may sound paranoid, but we didn’t want to take any chances. If some bartender started smirking at me because he figured out what we were up to I would never be able to go through with it.
    There were several bars throughout the casino complex, and we’d scouted them all online before coming up there. We decided to avoid the club because it would be too crowded and too loud. There was another bar that overlooked the casino floor and would have a cover band later, but it looked like it would be a good fit for our little game.
    I had started to think of what we were doing as a game, albeit a dangerous one. At first I wasn’t sure how to think of what we were doing. Did it make us swingers? That felt like a label I didn’t want; it felt so 70s and called to mind key parties and fondue. Besides, if we were swingers didn’t that mean that Dave would be fucking another woman? I didn’t think either of us was interested in that. But thinking of it as a game made it seem light and fun and sexy. We weren’t really doing anything wrong—we were just playing a game.
    The bar was half-empty when I took a stool and ordered a white wine. I sat so anyone coming in the door would be able to see me with my legs crossed and my five-inch heel hooked on the footrest bar. Two other couples sat around the bar with me and there were two groups sitting out at the tables: several guys in their twenties in one, the other looked like a bachelorette party. I pretended not to notice the younger guys checking me out and a secret smile formed on my lips.
    My second glass of wine came and Dave had not come down yet. I did not think he would be so far behind me, but I guess he wanted to give me plenty of time to be approached before he came onto the scene. That seemed to be taking forever. I checked my phone, which sat out on the glass top of the bar, and only forty minutes had passed. It felt like I’d been sitting there all night. No men had tried to pick me up yet, but no single men had come into the bar either. A trio of businessmen had come in, but they just had one quick drink and left. None of them were appealing anyway. The group of younger guys was probably my best bet, but while some of them continued to look over at me, they did not make a move. As they talked amongst themselves I wondered if it was about me. Did they think I was some desperate divorcee out looking for a night of fun? If so, they also probably thought I was an easy lay. Sorry to disappoint, boys . Maybe they thought I was waiting for some kind of internet date who stood me up. That was embarrassing—not the vibe I wanted to put out at all. But then, I did not know how to put out any kind of vibe. I felt like I was being dangled on a line, sitting on that stool waiting to be picked up. We may have been