Chapter 1
Day Of Discovery
Janet's casual remark started the ball rolling. Our husbands were at work, and we, being neighbors, were having our usual morning coffee together. Janet was regaling me with the trite details of an argument she and her husband had had the night before. Suddenly she sighed, looked at me rather enviously, and said:
"Why don't you let be borrow that husband of yours, Doris? Just for a little while? I promise I won't break him."
"It's a deal, Janet," I retorted jokingly, "but if you get mine, I get yours."
"You know ... all joking aside ... that might prove to be a smart move. John takes me pretty much for granted. And I've heard you say the same thing about Charles, Doris. A change now and then might be good for them ... might be good for all of us." Then, after a shrug and an apologetic smile: "Just a thought, Doris."
A close look at her told me she was more than half serious. "You know they've got a name for what you're suggesting, Janet," I replied.
"I know, I know. Wife swapping, husband swapping," she took a hurried gulp of her coffee. "Who cares what they call it, Doris? If it works ... if it makes the husband or wife return home with a greater appreciation and understanding ... then it's good. I don't care what the moralists say about it, Doris. If it succeeds ... oh, well ... nothing succeeds like success."
A curious lump rose in my throat as I felt an impulse to confess something to her. "Well, Janet. I'll have to admit ... I've often thought your husband would be ... sort of fun in bed."
"Me too!" her face lit up and she nodded eagerly. "I mean I've thought the same about your husband. I'll bet Charles is a passionate guy ... isn't he, Doris?"
I nodded and grinned. "He's wild. Sometimes he wants to go all night."
"John, too! And the crazy things he dreams up! I shouldn't be telling you this, Doris, but ... the other night ... while we were eating dinner ... he crawled under the table and...."
"No! While you were eating?" I looked her in the eye to see if she were bragging, exaggerating or lying, but no, she didn't blink or waver. I knew she'd told the truth.
"Yes, really! He said he wanted me to enjoy two things at once," she shrugged and rolled her eyes.
"And did you?" I smiled.
"And how! I was eating chicken, and just as I bit into a drumstick ... my favorite piece ... I began to ... you know. And I almost choked. I tried to swallow that damned drumstick in one bite."
Feeling a disturbing warmth beginning in unmentionable places, I took a gulp of my coffee, then said, just as casually as I could, "So John ... ah ... -likes to ... er ... do you that way, eh?"
"Oh, all the time!" she nodded. "Doesn't Charles?"
"Yes," I replied, "but somehow I've never thought of ... you know ... John doing you ... like that. He seems kind of reserved."
"Ha! Reserved! He's about as reserved as an Indian on the war path! Listen, kid. If I were to tell you all the screwy things he does ... really crazy, I mean ... it would take a book to fill'em!"
"Well ... , " I smiled at her, "I do write short stories, you know. And I'd like to try my hand at a book."
"Oh, no," she shook her head and grinned impishly. "Not from Janet Evans. Not about my sex-life do you write any book. Unless, of course ... , " she shrugged, sipped her coffee.
"Unless what, Janet?" I urged her on. (Janet was given to unfinished statements.)
"Well, unless we did go ahead and sort of ... swap around. Naturally I wouldn't care then if you wrote a dozen books about it, Doris."
I nodded. I was becoming definitely interested. I poured us another cup of coffee, and then, trying to appear rather blase, I said, "I wonder what our husbands would say if they knew what we've been discussing ... think they'd be insulted or mad?"
"Not mine," Janet made a wry face and shook her head slowly. "He'd be all for it, I'm almost sure of that."
"Really? John? What makes you say that, Janet? Has he ever hinted or...."
"No, he hasn't hinted. He's come right out and admitted he'd love to get in your pants."
"Janet! Please!" I scolded her smilingly. But even as I did I felt a pleasant little thrill at her admittance. I lit a cigarette and my fingers shook a little when I held up the match.
"Well, it's true, Doris. Of course he was loaded when he said it, and we were having an argument. But you know how men are when they're drinking ... the truth slips out."
"And he ... does you that way, too, eh, Janet?" I repeated this rather absent-mindedly, blowing smoke into her eyes.
"What way?" she looked at me curiously, (or was it suspiciously?)
"Oh, nothing, nothing. I was just mumbling to myself, Janet." (I'd alluded to that "under the table" thing. I'd lied to her when I'd told her that Charles had treated me that way. Though I'd always wanted him to, he never had. Charles was very reserved.)
"How d'you think Charles would react, Doris?" she fumbled for my cigarettes, extracted one, lit it, squinted as she exhaled a billow of smoke. "I mean, what d'you think he'd do, what would he say, if he knew we were seriously discussing husband and wife-swapping?"
"I really don't know, Janet," I replied. (I hadn't missed that "seriously" bit she'd thrown into her question; I recognized it as a sign that she was "seriously" considering the whole idea.)
"Is it possible he'd go along with it ... that he'd agree to at least give the thing a sporting try?" her eyes were anxious.
I took a deep pull on my cigarette and, as I exhaled, nodded. "He just might. Charles is unpredictable, Janet. But if I were to merely put it to him bluntly he'd refuse. I'd have to think up some very ingenious way of ... well ... persuading him."
She looked me in the eye and nodded slowly. "It's none of my business, Doris ... but, how's he ... built?"
"You mean ... ? ? " I halted and grinned.
"Yes, exactly," Janet replied.
"Well, he's ... I don't really know, Janet. How can I say? I mean, I can't compare him with anyone. We were married right after graduation and ... , " I stopped and stared at her; she was holding both hands up and a certain distance apart (in the fashion of a man showing another man the size of a fish he'd caught).
"No, bigger," I said. She moved her hands farther apart and looked at me ... hopefully.
"Still bigger," I repeated (and for the first time in five years of married life I began to get the drift that my husband was a great deal more than just average; I could read the surprise and approval in Janet's eyes).
"There, that's about it," I said, after she'd finally separated her hands the length that my husband's private property seemed in my mind's eye.
"Really? That's about John's heft too. Believe me, kid, we've got two very unusual husbands. Very unusual! For your information, Doris, my little one-man-gal, that's nearly twice the heft of the average John Doe."
"No kidding," I shrugged, not overly interested in such statistics (my mind was still lingering on that "under the table" business). "And that other bit, Janet. Does John ... you know ... does he do you that way every time you have sex?"
That did it. I'd goofed. My tone and expression, and my stubborn pursuance of the subject had given me away just as surely as an open confession. Janet knew, then, that she had the upper hand on me ... that John was supplying her with a special something that Charles was not supplying me. And that I very much wanted that special something.
"Yes. Every time, Doris. He simply loves it, too! He takes his time. He's awfully gentle at it. He has such a nice mouth, John has. And he's dreadfully proud of his ... abilities. He starts out ... you know. . just barely kissing you. Using just the tip of his tongue. Then, after a long while, he bears down a little more and ... well ... you simply can't lay still. And he-likes to take one finger and ... gosh, I shouldn't be telling you all this, Doris!" she affected a sheepish grin and snubbed out her cigarette in contrived exasperation.
"No, go ahead. It's interesting," I told her, forcing a grin.
"Well ... he sometimes sort of pushes his finger ... back there ... and wiggles it around while he's at me. Nasty, yes. But nasty nice."
I nodded and shifted restlessly in my chair. Her deliberately colored explanation had actually aroused me; I squeezed my thighs together hard and sort of trembled inwardly.
"I wonder, Janet, if we could get the boys interested in a ... you know ... trial switch? I'll admit, the prospect is terribly tempting to me. I've been faithful to Charles and all. But I've wondered many times about ... well ... how it would be to have someone else for a change."
"That's it, Doris. Change! Everyone needs a change. You go on, day after day, year after year, with the same man. You get in sort of a sexual rut."
"D'you think most women feel the same way?" I asked her.
She shrugged and nodded. "I think so. The ones that are honest with themselves anyway. I know I often find myself looking at some attractive man and wondering how he'd be. How he'd look naked. How big he is. How many times he could go. If he-likes to ... you know ... like John the other night under the table."
"That's what I want, Janet," I blurted, a little desperately.
"Oh! But doesn't Charles...?" she halted, pretending to be astonished. Playing it coy.
"No. He doesn't. I lied to you. But I wish he would. Oh, Damn, Janet, how I wish he would!"
She smiled and nodded a little condescendingly. "Well, I can't say that I blame you, kid. It is divine. Gosh, it's hard to believe that Charles hasn't went ahead and...."
"I know," I cut her off. "And I've done nearly everything except shove him there. I simply can't understand it, Janet. And I've ... done him that way ever since our wedding night. It's not fair. I don't know ... maybe he thinks I'd object to it or something."
"Doris."
"Yes?"
She gave me a strange look, wrinkled her brow, blinked several times. "You know, kid ... there are ... well ... certain women who'd be ... you know ... only too glad to oblige you."
"Please, Janet," I laughed, "I said I wished Charles would do it. I didn't say I was desperate or anything. A woman! No thanks!"
Janet looked me in the eye for several seconds before she spoke. "Don't knock it unless you've tried it, Doris."
"You mean you have?" I gazed at her in distaste and amazement.
"I'll never tell," she laughed her hard brittle forced laugh and added, "But I'd certainly never criticize anyone that had. When you come right down to it, Doris ... sex is sex. It's a physical act that's performed out of lust and tension. We all feel lust at times. We all grow tense. It doesn't, when you think about it, seem so awfully wrong for two women or two men to join forces for a mutual relief of tension. Does it?" She looked hard at me, and I saw the amusement in her clear green eyes.
"I don't know, Janet. I've never thought about it," I answered her. "But I would like to see if we could arrange to swap husbands. Let's work on it. There's no rush. And who knows? If it works out ... it might prove to be a real turning-point in our lives."
When Janet left I felt forced to give in to a desire that our heated talk had generated. I hurried to my bedroom, and, snatching up my hair-brush, I used it for a grooming that it had not been manufactured for. And moments later, writhing and twisting on our bed, I snorted once, then cried aloud:
"Oh, Charles! Please learn to use your head!"