Various Various - The Swap

Contents

Cover

Title Page THE SWAP Explicit Stories from the World of Swinging A Mischief Collection of Erotica

Playdar Lisette Ashton

Four for the Seesaw Charlotte Stein

Dirty Reunion Scarlet Rush

Club Night Monica Belle

Sauce for the Gander Terri Pray

Risk Reduction Madeline Moore

A Trip to the Woodshed A Lucy Salisbury Story by Penny Birch

Careful What You Wish For Willow Sears

Loser Takes All Amber Leigh

More from Mischief

About Mischief

Copyright

About the Publisher

These two aren’t players. You’re wasting your time with them.

Sophie read Rob’s text message, struggling not to reveal any telltale sign in her facial expression. The effort of maintaining a poker face, she knew, made her features appear haughty and long. It was not an attractive look and she tried to lose it as quickly as possible. But the expression was clearly there long enough for Philip and Angela to notice.

‘Is there a problem?’

She glanced up from her mobile towards Philip as he raised the concerned question. He had a shaved head and a smile that suggested mischief and danger. His muscular physique was squeezed into a pale casual suit. His whole image was the stylish and exciting persona of a relaxed Englishman abroad.

Beside him, his Barbie-blonde wife, Angela, tilted her head. ‘Is everything OK?’ she asked. ‘You were frowning.’

‘Everything’s fine,’ Sophie assured them both. ‘I was just trying to think of the right way to respond to this idiot I’m dealing with.’ She waggled the phone to indicate the idiot she was referring to, and then comforted them with a reassuring grin before typing and sending her text message response.

These two swing like a shithouse door in a thunderstorm. I’ll put money on it.

‘You must be quite the businesswoman back in the UK,’ Angela observed.

Sophie shrugged. ‘I do all right. What about you two?’

Her phone gave two beeps. An incoming text message. She held up an apologetic finger to silence Philip and Angela while she read Rob’s response.

£500 says you don’t get to screw Philip before the end of the day. These two don’t swing. They’re too straitlaced.

As usual, it was a perfectly punctuated text from her husband. It included apostrophes of omission and a postgraduate vocabulary. Sophie felt confident the word ‘straitlaced’ was not included in the predictive text package on his Nokia. She thought most men who weren’t Rob would try to put a hyphen in the word. His correctness with language was an essential part of his character.

She typed her reply with the practised ease of a veteran texter.

Call it £1K if I can get you with Angela . I say these two swing.

Rob’s response came back in seconds.

It’s a bet .

‘I’m sorry,’ Philip said. ‘We’re distracting you from your business.’ He made as though he was about to get up and leave.

Sophie put out a reassuring hand. ‘No. Please. That’s the last text I’m sending this evening. I’m all yours now.’ She was delighted to see Angela flush on hearing the comment. Sophie flashed her most disarming smile for the couple, as though the statement had been made in all innocence.

Her playdar, she knew, was 99.9% accurate. Maybe higher. It had never failed her so far and taking the money on this bet with Rob was almost guaranteed. Angela and Philip, she felt certain, both lived the lifestyle. They were both players.

‘Rob should be back with our drinks in a moment and I promise you I won’t be talking business for the rest of the night.’ She met Philip’s eye and said, ‘If I go back on my word, you can take me over your knee and spank my bare backside as punishment.’

Angela stiffened.

Sophie could see the woman’s hand fall to Philip’s thigh and squeeze. Philip’s smile widened. Angela’s nails were painted a wanton scarlet. Her hand was so close to Philip’s groin that Sophie could almost feel his excitement.

‘With that sort of assurance,’ Philip told Sophie, ‘I’d be a fool to leave.’

Rob returned with a tray of drinks. He didn’t bother making eye contact with Sophie. The bet was on and there was no point in either of them labouring the point or running the risk of spoiling the evening’s fun. And, it was clear to Sophie, Rob was desperate to have Angela.

He complimented Philip’s wife on her necklace: a series of princess-cut diamonds on white gold. His fingers lingered dangerously close to her cleavage as he boldly examined the piece. He leaned closer and Sophie saw his fingertips brush against the blonde’s décolletage. She could imagine the heat of his breath was warming the blush of Angela’s cleavage.

Sophie smiled.

She had always enjoyed watching Rob interact with other women. There was something satisfying about the way he was able to tease, please and excite them. It was particularly thrilling for her to know that he had the ability to excite and arouse so many women. And yet he always chose to return to her at the end of an evening. It reminded her that the openness of their relationship was something special and not to be taken for granted.

Used to watching such casual adult play, and barely listening as Angela told Rob the necklace was a gift from Philip to commemorate their fifth wedding anniversary, she saw the woman’s nipples stiffening. Angela was wearing a thin cotton dress. In the balmy heat of this African summer evening it was probably the most sensible fabric to wear, Sophie thought practically. Even though it was now early evening, and the sun’s most ferocious hours had long since passed, the humidity remained cloying and interminable.

The white cotton fitted tight against Angela’s chest. It was so tight Sophie had already noticed the woman wasn’t wearing a bra. And, as Rob continued to examine the diamond necklace, Sophie could see that Angela’s nipples were growing hard and swelling against the fabric. Her chest had been rising and falling regularly before. Now it looked like each inward breath was laboured by swelling passion. The pulse beneath Angela’s ear seemed to throb with heightened expectation.

‘You’ll have to forgive my husband,’ Sophie told Philip. ‘He works as a jeweller and he never seems to take a break from his occupation.’

‘I’ve got nothing against a man admiring my wife’s jewels,’ Philip admitted.

He gave Sophie his easy smile. It was a smile that she longed to kiss. She could picture Philip wearing that smile, and nothing else, while he lay back on a bed and allowed her to suck on his length. The idea made the crotch of her panties warm and damp.

She wondered if, when Philip said he had nothing against a man admiring his wife’s jewels, he was talking about the diamonds. Or if he had used the word ‘jewels’ as a euphemism for her breasts.

Had Philip just admitted that he and Angela were players?

She tried to think how she could surreptitiously raise the question so that Philip or Angela would answer honestly.

‘I do like well-made jewellery,’ Rob admitted. He spoke in a low voice, as though he was sharing a secret with Angela. ‘I was thinking of giving Sophie a pearl necklace this morning. But that’s got nothing to do with our talk about jewellery, has it?’