Unknown: The swap club

"Another drink, Jimmy?"

"Yeah, okay, Jerry," I said. I walked with Jerry over to the bar, where he refilled my glass. We took our glasses out to his back deck and settled down to watch the sun set.

Debby and I had gotten to Jerry and Carol's a few minutes late, but not too bad. I had completely forgotten the invitation, and worked late that day. I was surprised to find Debby talking to Jenny, the teenager from across the street, in our front yard when I got home.

Debby turned to me, and asked, "Did you forget we're having dinner tonight with Jerry and Carol?"

My mouth dropped open, and then I quickly shut it. "Oh shit!" I threw my briefcase back in the car and trotted inside. "I'll be right down."

Debby laughed and led Jenny inside, as I heard Brian say: "Mommy, Daddy said a bad word!"

"We'll just have to spank him," she told our eight-year old.

Brian took off after me up the stairs, yelling how he was going to spank me. I grabbed him up and returned him to his mother, who deposited him, in turn, with Jenny. Jenny was obviously going to be the babysitter. After a quick shower, I changed into some khakis and a pullover. Debby was ready to go, in slacks and a blouse.

At the front door, Debby kissed the boys good-bye and we left. Looking at my watch, I told her we had time to walk. The weather was perfect, and we walked the two blocks holding hands. When we got to the front door, I rang the bell several times to no response, but then we heard a yell and walked to the side fence.

"Come on around, Jerry's going to barbecue!" called out Carol from the deck.

Debby and I entered the back yard and climbed the stairs to the deck. Jerry came out the patio door with a plate of steaks, which he set on the picnic table. He and I shook hands, as Carol and Debby hugged.

Jerry and I have known each other for more than ten years, going back to when we roomed in college. He was best man at Debby's and my wedding, and I was an usher at his and Carol's. When she first met Carol, Debby couldn't figure out what she saw in him. "They're so different! I mean, it's like Mutt and Jeff!"

I suppose she was right. I mean, Jerry is maybe five-two, if he's stretching, has lost most of his hair, and only a religiously kept schedule of poorly played racquetball keeps his weight in check. An accountant. They have no kids. Carol is five-ten in her stocking feet, dark haired, dark eyed, a drop dead knockout. She used to be a model. I saw some of her work in a lingerie catalogue. Long legs, huge tits. In heels she towered over him. At his bachelor party, somebody gave him a scuba snorkel for when they danced. God knows she could smother him with those tits.

Actually, I had seen more of those tits than Jerry knew. Once, a few years ago, Debby and I had been over for dinner, and the main bathroom was being rebuilt. If you wanted to piss, you used the bath in the master bedroom. And I needed to piss.

Along several walls of the bedroom were photographs of Carol from her modeling days. All were tastefully and exquisitely done blowups of several of her more risque shots – teddies, gowns, garter sets, and the like. After finishing my business, I had stood there and looked them over. And I noticed an open photo album on a nightstand. Sneaking over, feeling guilty, I had looked at the Polaroids inside. Obviously done by Jerry himself, these pictures showed Carol, still in lingerie, but considerably more exposed. Her gorgeous tits pointed at the lens, and in several shots her pussy was exposed. It was shaved smooth, and had a large dildo inserted.

The sight definitely got me worked up, and I really gave Debby a good fucking that night. Later that summer, we took the kids to Disney World, and rented a video camera. When we came home, before I returned the camera, I rigged a tripod up and we made a dirty movie. It was pretty standard, I suppose, and of course, no changing angles. Basically, I was a handyman working on an electrical outlet. Debby wore nothing but a very sheer blouse, a tiny wrap skirt, long stockings, and high heels. While I was turned away from her, working at the baseboard, she unbuttoned her blouse and lifted her skirt and played with herself. As I finished she tugged her skirt down and put her tits back in her blouse and left it unbuttoned. Then I asked if anything else needed fixing. She responded by removing my toolbelt and unzipping me. You get the idea. I worked on her. She still gets turned on when we watch it occasionally.

I laughed and said, "Well, it's one of two things. Either it's because he's a genuinely nice guy or it's because he's hung like a horse."

Debby stared. "No. You don't mean… Jerry…!"

"Honey I roomed with the guy three years. Secretariat should be so lucky."

Debby and Carol got to be real close. Later, she told Debby she quit modeling because it was a "… rat-race meat market…" God knows Jerry was about as far from that as the moon.

The steaks and veggies were great. Carol tapped Debby, and the two cleared the table and headed for the kitchen for cleaning and girl talk. Jerry refreshed his and my glass, and we lazed back on the lawn furniture. After a moment, he turned towards me.

"Jimmy, one of the reasons we asked you and Debby over tonight was to make an invitation to join a small club Carol and I are part of."

"One of the reasons?"

"Hey, having dinner with friends is another reason. Anyway, as I was saying, the club members thought that maybe you and Debby might want to join, so they asked me and Carol to talk to you two."

"Should we go get Carol and Debby?" I looked around, the women were still inside out of sight. "What club?"

"Carol's talking to Debby about it inside," said Jerry, somewhat opaquely. "The club really doesn't have a name, Jimmy."

He continued. "Just hold your questions for a moment, Jim. It's a small group, made up of people here in the development. You and Debby meet all the qualifications, you're both young, healthy, attractive, and in a stable relationship…"

"So how'd you qualify?" I asked. What the fuck was he talking about? What the hell kind of club was this?

Jerry made a face at me and continued. "Carol and I assured the group that you and Debby were quite discrete. Discretion is an important aspect to membership in the club."

Discrete? "What is this club, Jerry? The Weathermen? The Nazis?"

"Of course not. It's a, er, social club. We get together roughly once a month for a small meeting. There's normally twelve members, six couples, but recently a couple moved away. So now there's an opening."

"Okay, so why the secrecy?"

"You have to promise you won't divulge anything about the group to anybody. Or else I stop now and we talk about the weather."

"Yeah, okay. Sure. Cross my heart and hope you die. Now what gives?!"

"Well, it's a swing club."

"Huh?" If I had heard Jerry correctly, I was going into major shock. But I couldn't have heard him correctly.

"A swing club. You know, a little swap party, that sort of thing. You know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I do." A crash from the kitchen indicated that Carol had also gotten to the heart of the matter. But no screams of indignation followed, no bellows of "We're leaving!" Maybe Debby could take this kind of news better than me. "Jerry, I think you would have surprised me less if you were a Nazi."

"It's surprisingly common, Jimmy."

"Not to me it isn't. And besides, you're my best friend! How the hell do you keep something like that to yourself. I had no idea. All this time you've been leading a secret life!"

"Oh, bullshit. We're the same people you've known for years. It's just that every few weeks we do something a little out of the ordinary. I mean, we go to a cocktail party. This one just gets a little more personal."