SUMMER SWAP // Chapter 13 (seriously)

Up at the bedroom, Cheyenne went in ahead of him, and he closed the door behind them and leaned his back against it. Cheyenne moved to her purse and rummaged through it. His heart rate was through the roof. The beginnings of a headache worked in his temples. His neck and shoulders had gone tight. He rested his hand in the center of his rib cage, feeling the rapid thump of his beating heart. Cheyenne brought out a makeup clamshell and a tube of lipstick.

The prospect of watching his wife put on makeup so she was attractive to another man put his heart rate up to a higher gear. Holy shit.

He checked his watch. “God,” he said. “It’s only eleven-thirty.”

Cheyenne checked out her reflection in the small square mirror above the dresser. She checked the left side, the right side, said to him, “That’s good. Gives everybody a chance to get settled and get into their cabins.”

He muttered, “Then it’s the witching hour.”

He moved behind her, climbed up to put his butt on the bed. Now he lay there on his back, propped up on elbows, knees bent at the bed’s edge. Cheyenne stood and tidied herself in front of the small mirror, oblivious to her husband sitting and watching. All her mental acuity focused on her date tonight. Her date with another man. A date where she knew she was going to be putting out. Jesus, the whole point of the date was to put out.

He said, “Can you get up here, please?”

“I’m getting ready.”

“It’s killing me watching you get ready.”

“Then don’t watch,” she said and laughed.

“You look fucking beautiful.”

“You think he’ll like me?”

“Very funny. We already know he likes you.”

“It feels like a date.”

“It does feel like a date,” he said.

Cheyenne mushed her lips together, wound down her lipstick, threw all her makeup back in her purse. Now she turned and put a hand on her hip and looked at him. She frowned. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

He looked down at his shirt. “Sorry, my suit’s all the way at home. What do you mean, is this what I’m wearing?” He plucked at his own shirt. “Is this not good?”

“It’s fine,” she said.

“We can’t all look as good as you do right now.”

Cheyenne climbed up on the bed. She’d touched her mouth with a little gloss. Just a dab of color hidden in it, but her lips shone. And the makeup she wore only colored her cheeks. He could see she was already rosy underneath.

“I can’t believe I’m letting another man do this with you.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to let you sleep with crazy Carla.”

“Is it strange that I’m scared?”

“You should be scared. I’d be scared of Carla.”

“You’re not scared of Cody?”

She shook her head no and snuggled closer to him. He moved to kiss her, and she stopped him. “Don’t muss my lips.”

“Cody is going to muss them.”

“If you kiss me, I’ll have to reapply.”

“It makes me hard that I can’t kiss you because you’re saving your lips for another man.”

They both looked at each other with hesitant smiles, pupils darting over one another’s. He slipped a hand up her shirt, felt her warm stomach. Cody would feel her warm stomach tonight. He scooped his hand under the waist of her shorts, and she stopped him. “That’s also for Cody,” she said, soft and timid. Testing him.

“You’re so fucking hot, Chey. This is so crazy—I’m more in love with you now. I feel it so strong. It feels like we just started dating.”

“I like it too,” she said. “Just hold me, okay. We have like twenty minutes.”

That was fine. And Cheyenne snuggled tighter to him and he held her in his arm. Everything was on track. This was going to happen.

And then a thought lurched up at him. Like a hand burst from a grave at the end of a horror movie. Something he’d forgotten.

“Hey, Chey, can you set up a second?”

He helped her to sit up, and they both faced each other, sitting and leaning back on one hand, looking at each other. Cheyenne looked worried. Worried he was going to cancel.

He said, “I want to tell you something that’s going to sound like a big deal, but it’s not. And though it’s not a big deal, I have to tell you before we . . .”

Her brow furrowed, one eyebrow staying high. She chewed the inside of her lower lip.

“It’s not bad,” he said. “But I have to tell you.”

“Well just tell me already.”

“It’s not a big deal, I swear.”

“The more you say that, Byron . . .” Her voice had gotten thin and tight and now he regretted bringing this up. Should’ve just told her tomorrow. Why would you do this now?—Because it would be wrong not to.

He said, “When I woke up today around lunch?”

“Yeah.”

“You were gone. You went swimming. Carla was next to me, sunbathing.”

“I remember.”

“I rubbed— I put lotion on her back.”

“That’s not great.”

“It wasn’t anything. It really wasn’t.”

“That’s it?”

“No. I went to watch you for a bit, and Carla told me that you went naked. I saw you out there with those guys, swimming around. You weren’t wearing anything.”

“We were just having fun.”

“I know— And Carla told me that everybody was going naked, so I got naked.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I told you it’s not bad. Please don’t fret.”

“I’m not fretting.”

Cheyenne was fretting. “While I was rubbing lotion on Carla—”

“And she was naked too?”

“It was no big deal.”

“It’s kind of— It’s kind of a big deal.”

“Look, she . . . She may have put her hand on me.”

“Where? On your penis?”

“Right. But it wasn’t—”

“Why would she do that?”

“It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t sensual. She was being controlling, Chey.”

Cheyenne thought about it for a moment. Pictured it. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “And that’s all that happened?”

He said, “That’s all that she wanted to happen.”

“What does that mean?”

“Carla was just being sly. You know, putting me in my place. I didn’t want her to do it, and I was going to stop her . . .”

“But you didn’t.”

“I was about to. And then . . .” He rubbed a knuckle against an eyebrow, wincing. Embarrassed now. This was truthful, but it wasn’t exactly a proud and virile moment. “I accidentally . . .”

“What are you saying?”

“She touched me once, I swear, and then . . . I accidentally . . .”

Cheyenne scowled. “Put it in her?”

“What?” he said, incredulous. “Put it in her? No. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“Jesus, this is embarrassing. I may have, you know . . .” He pointed a finger up in the air, indicating . . .

Cheyenne hesitated. “Ejaculated?”

He looked away.

What he hoped for was maybe a little chuckle. Laughter. Oh Byron. Good old Byron.

But when he looked back, Cheyenne was palming her forehead, eyes lowered in deep thought.

He said, “Are you mad?—I hope you’re not thinking that this is why I wanted to do this. I mean, I did kind of want to. You know, after that, but . . .”

“I was the one who asked,” she murmured.

“Yeah. And I’m so glad you did,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said, and put her hand over his.

She said, “I should tell you something, too.”

Now he stiffened. He hadn’t seen this coming.

She said, “While we were out in the water, when we were swimming . . .”

“You and Philippe and Cody. Naked.”

“Yeah. We were kind of horsing around.”

“And what happened?”

“I grabbed his . . .”

“Why? Why— wait, who?”

“Cody. And . . .”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What?”

“It was under the water and I didn’t realize . . .”

“What?”

“He was hard.”

“Wow,” he said and clutched his heart—grabbed a bunch of the fabric over his chest.

Cheyenne said, “I mean, I shouldn’t have grabbed it at all, Byron, I know. But we were just horsing around in the water, you know, like playing . . . And he wouldn’t let me go, so I was trying to . . . grab his”—now she whispered—“balls. And I got—”

“You got a shock.”

Cheyenne smiled. “Boy, did I.”

That response got him frowning. Aroused again, too. What was shocking? That he was hard? That he was big? He’d actually never seen Cody’s penis. He’d imagined it wasn’t small. At least Cheyenne had said she didn’t want Philippe’s enormous package near her privates.

He said, “Why was it shocking?”

“Because it was erect.”

“That’s all?”

“I didn’t . . . I could’ve let go sooner.”

He gave her the response he would like to have heard from her. He chuckled.

She said, “You’re not mad?”

He touched her cheek, then held her chin with a thumb and finger. “You are so cute.”

Cheyenne rolled her eyes, the natural blush of her cheek overpowering her makeup. “It wasn’t a big moment or anything, but our eyes met . . .”

“I don’t really like that. His dick was in your hand.”

“It’s better than what happened with you and . . .”

“I guess.”

“And then later, Cody told me . . .”

“Told you what?”

“About how they do . . . this . . .” She wagged a finger back and forth from them toward where Carla and Cody’s room was. Swapping.

“So Cody told you and Carla told me?”

She said, “I think we’re prey.”

“I think you might be right.”

Cheyenne’s phone dinged. She sighed, scooted to sit at the bed’s edge, leaned to the counter top and got her phone. Read the text.

“They’re ready.”

He nodded, said, “Are we?”

***

With the cabin door cracked open, Byron spied down the hall toward Carla and Cody’s room. It was 11:58. Cheyenne was cozied right up next to him, the two of them crammed in the narrow space in their cabin’s foyer.

“Is he coming?”

“Not yet,” he said.

Then there was movement. Light reflecting on Carla’s cabin door as it was levered from inside and pulled slightly inward.

“Okay,” Byron said, their door opening as well.

He turned, looked into his wife’s eyes. His hands were trembling. He held her waist, stroked up her ribs, said, “You’re going to be okay?”

Cheyenne nodded. Her lips were slightly parted, and she breathed deeply, eyes wide. She said, “You’re going to be okay?”

He said, “I only worry about you,” and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “You be good,” he said, caressed her hair, and held her neck. “I have to kiss you.”

“Careful,” she said, and jutted her chin toward him.

He delicately placed his lips on hers, then pulled them back. “You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful and I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay? It’s go time. You have fun—not too much fun—and I’ll see you in an hour.”

“You have fun, too,” she said, her hands touching his waist, then spanking his bottom. “Okay, go.”

“I’m going,” he said. “I love you.”

He stepped into the open door’s space and poked his head out. He looked up and down the hall. Cody stuck his head out. Cody all smiles still. Couldn’t wait to get his hands on Cheyenne.

Then both of them were slipping out, closing the doors behind, but not latching them. Cheyenne held the door levered open on the other side. They both now strolled casually, Cody putting on an act. They came nearer, and Cody put up a fist.

They fist bumped.

Cody said, “Keys are in the ignition. Full tank of gas, put her pedal to the metal and ride that bitch all the way to Mexico,” and kept walking.

With the feel of Cody’s big manly knuckles still pinging against his own smaller hand, he continued on to the door, looking over his shoulder. Cody strutted. Athletic, lean, good looking. Cheyenne wanted to sleep with him. And she was going to.

A sudden shade cast across him. Feeling tricked. Like he’d just been manipulated into allowing his wife to cheat on him.

Only that wasn’t true. They were in this together.

It was just jealousy twisting at him.

Cody wore a snug fitting T-shirt that hugged the muscles of his shoulders and arms, then grew baggy at his waist. A pair of black cargo shorts that came to his knee. Bare calves showing. Tanned, hairy. Blonde hair. Cheyenne was going to find out what it was like to sleep with a guy with blonde hair and muscles. Blonde hair on his calves.

That urge came again to call this off.

It was pretty cool that they’d come this far.

Maybe he could just say, “Hey wait up, Cody. It’s all good. I know I can do it now. But I think what I’m going to do is, you know, sit it out.”

But his cabin door opened up. Cheyenne swinging wide to allow her visitor, her booty call, Cody making a sly chuckling sound before slipping into the cabin. The door closed behind him. Cody was in there with Cheyenne.

Now he smoothed hands over his chest, stroking down multiple times, preparing himself, staring at the closed door to Carla’s cabin. Carla on the other side, waiting for him.

He prepared himself . . .

The door creaked, swung inward. Carla looked out, cross. “Did you get lost?—get the fuck in here. What part don’t you understand about being sneaky?”