Read Online Turds in the Punch Bowl (A Story of No Ordinary Friendship) by Jen Ashton - Free Book Online

often, no pun intended.
    “One couple, one extra?” the clerk asked.
    We looked at each other in bewilderment and shrugged our shoulders.
    “Look, I don’t care if you’re together or not, it’s cheaper that way. I’m trying to save you money,” the lady added. She was older, wrinkled beyond her years and clearly didn’t give a damn.
    “Sure,” I agreed. “That’s fine. How much?”
    “One hundred and fifty dollars.”
    “One one hundred and fifty dollars?” I repeated. “Is that with the discount?”
    “Yep,” she scoffed. “It’s a hundred for him and twenty-five for each of you.” She pointed at Michele and me, staring at us with her beady little eyes.
    We all looked at each other again and, not wanting to look cheap, forked up the cash and paid our entry fee. Joe and I were given red wrist bands and Michele was slapped with a green one. We later found out this was a “green light” for singles and couples to recognize her as available. I’m just glad it wasn’t me.
    We walked in to the bar. It was a juice bar. They don’t serve alcohol in places like that. Someone might get drunk and lose their inhibitions, or worse, fuck a stranger. Michele ordered an apple juice. I was afraid and opted to remain parched. We found a table in the center of the room, surrounded by pool tables and stripper poles, and took a seat. It wasn’t your typical nightclub, but the place was jumpin’. Michele was in heaven, looking at both men and women. She’s been known to be bisexual. Joe made himself at home. And I tried not to touch anything, desperately wishing I had brought my hand sanitizer.
    There was a Jacuzzi room to our left. Joe had raved about it on the trip over. But when I looked through the steamed glass, all I saw were four fat people stuffed in it like Vienna sausages in those little cans. The hot tub was no more than three feet in diameter, and not even Joe’s scrawny ass was squishing into that thing unless one of them left for beverages.
    “It seemed bigger last time I was here,” Joe admitted. He must have seen me ogling it.
    “You went in that thing?” I asked. The only thing I could think of while watching the bubbles struggle to reach the top between the mountains of flesh was how much chlorine would be needed in order to convince me that it was safe to go in the water.
    Suddenly, one of the fatties rose from the caldron and flashed his tiny testicles and miniature Vienna to all of us. I wasn’t sure if they were actually small, or just looked small on his extremely large body. I have never been very good at ratios. Nevertheless, that was the first unsettling image burned into my retina that evening, but it surely wouldn’t be the last. We were off to the couple’s cove next.
    Upon entry, we were told that Michele would have to stay back. Her green bracelet restricted her from the couple’s area. She took it like a trooper and opted to mingle in the main room while we explored the cove. I might have worried about her had she not walked away with a shit-eating grin. It was obvious she was on the prowl. I feared what we might return to if gone too long, so I mentioned to Joe that we should take a peek inside and be quick about it. He agreed, took my hand in his and we disappeared into the dark.
    Aside from a few cubbies with curtains shrouding our view of the deeds going on behind them, we didn’t find much. There were a lot of other couples walking around looking for the same excitement we were. I was at a swinger’s club. I wanted to see people swinging. I wasn’t sure if that meant actual swinging, as in from the rafters, or if I truly wanted to see a couple sharing another human being like two cannibals hovering over a piece of steak, but there was definitely none of either going on. I was just about to say the place was lame when an older man and his hot, young wife passed by us, dragging a super hunk behind them. What was this about?
    The couple was the equivalent of Casey Kasem