Cobwebs

Transcript

Speaker1: Good morning, good afternoon, good evening. Wherever you are, I hope you have blue skies, a breeze on your back, and sand between your toes. Welcome to the Of The Lifestyle Podcast. I'm your host, Jason. Leave vanilla behind as I do another short story. This show is for adults only. We will talk about sex, relationships, lifestyle, and ethical non-monogamy in an honest way with lots of real talk. If you are under 18, this is not the place for you and you need to go away. Around here on the beaches of sexual freedom, consent, education, and good times, everyone is welcome. Lifestyle, vanilla, or the curious. Whatever your gender identity, expression, truth, flavor, you are welcome here. I will do my best to use inclusive language, though you may hear words like husband or wife, or man or woman to keep things simple. You want to connect? You can send me an email at host at thatotherlifestyle.com. Go to my website, thatotherlifestyle.com. And hey, while you're at it, go to STDHero.com. Use my promo code TOL15 for 15% off your order. That helps out the show. For the best lifestyle parties, check out RiskeLifestyleParties.com. We love their vibe, attitude, and the next one is actually March 13th through the 15th in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, so come party with us. I'm doing a short story again. People seem to have liked the last one. I need to tell you, I don't personally know anyone named Brenda or Sam, and that this is Not based on anyone that I know, okay? If you think it is based on someone that you know, remember that we don't know the same people. 7.40 p.m. Honey, have you seen my hat? Sam asks of his wife Brenda as she stands in the living room, confused and searching, sliding keys and a wallet into his shorts. Which one? Brenda answers, her voice carrying through the house straight to the neighbors. Sam has many hats for many different occasions, though they are all baseball caps. The red one. Sam is specific on which hat he needs tonight to cover his bald spot. There's nothing inherently wrong with a bald spot nor anyone who may be balding, but Sam has decided it is better to hide his lack of hair going so far as to leave his hat on during sex and the socks. Check the kitchen, Brenda yells back, entering the living room fumbling with her earring. Sam retrieves his lucky emotional support hat emblazoned with the F1 racing logo and smiles at the sight of his wife. Brenda looks amazing to him in his eyes after all these years together. After the kids growing up, the grandkids showing up, they are still in love as much as the day they got married. Her green sundress hugs her body, a body Sam loves to show off and picks to others, barely containing her fake tits, an anniversary present she got a few years ago, brunette hair and waves down her back. Sam, on the other hand, lost the tightness of youth, trading it for the gut of experience. Not unattractive, he does feel his years, though, in the lifestyle when standing next to the 30-year-old men that Brenda is so fond of. Sam has opted for his golf shorts and a t-shirt with the words, Plays Well With Others, and the image of a happy pineapple on a swing tonight. Stubble across his face that Brenda swears makes him look dashing, though it scrapes like a cheese grater against soft thighs. Are you ready now? Sam pleads with his wife, blaming their tardiness for the meetup on her. It's a local meetup tonight, a gathering of lifestyle folks on a Saturday in a small tourist town on the coast. The community here is small and tight-knit. Everyone knows everyone and has known them for years. The spiderweb of connections and sexual engagements looks like cowboys at this point. Yes, asshole, Brenda smiles at the sudden rush from Sam, checking her makeup one last time in her mirror by the front door. popping her lips and smoothing out her hair. Good. Let's go. I'll text Dana. Sam adds. Dana, the organizer of the meetup, sees the messages from Sam. Each sentence is a different message causing Dana's phone to chime like a symphony. Hey, D. On our way. You owe me shots. Order Brenda, White Claw, and a shot of tequila for me. Should be there in 27 minutes. How many people are coming tonight? Invite Lydia and Todd? Haven't seen them in Brenda says hi Sam's excitement is dripping in the barrage of messages that Dana replies back with a simple okay her phone has been chiming non-stop for the past two hours coordinating answering questions that were already covered in the invite judging outfits for appropriateness the group chat she put together for the invite has steadily increased in messages until there was a strange lull about an hour ago as everyone started to get ready and head towards the bar now her phone dings with private messages from to either bombastic fighting in parking lots or dishing each other or Brenda's favorite move, furious sobbing in the bathroom surrounded by a pack of women attempting to comfort her. They're not the only ones who do this by a long shot. Dana knows all the couples in her orbit that do this, and she knows the lifestyle would be worse without them. Dana sighs, unsure what to expect from tonight. She invited 30 couples, and then the responses grew, and the whole thing spread like wildfire. she can do is prepare the staff of the bar. 8.09 p.m. Park out there, Brenda orders Sam, wanting to be discreet. I don't want people to know what we're doing. We aren't doing nothing except parking, Sam responds. I know, but I don't want people to talk. Don't want them to know we're swingers. Brenda retorts. Sam parks his lifted F4x4 truck in the line of spots at the end of the parking lot, far away from the bar. Fuck, we're barely swingers at this point, Sam corrects her. The lack of dates or sex or action in months weighing on his mind. A wise man would evaluate their tactics and approach, but Sam is not a wise man. Sam is the kind of man who believes enough fireball shots would make any woman want him. Sam is the kind of man who believes that the sight of his wife's vagina is enough to make any man want his wife. Don't worry, I'm getting dicked tonight, Brenda promises her husband, sliding out of the truck with his wife. the grunt, her dress sliding up with her body, revealing her lack of underwear and vagina to the world, though no men come running. She hurries to drop the fabric back down, no one around to notice, causing her a sigh of relief. Not from me, Sam throws out playfully. Fuck you, motherfucker, if you don't want this pussy, I will find somebody who does, Brenda smiles back. The little beachside bar is not crowded this time of year. The walls are decorated with a collection of nautical decor, fake fish, and multiple televisions of differing sizes, all playing the same sports game. The menus are always sticky, the drinks are way too strong, and the ocean breeze feels really nice on a night like this. The walls are painted in bright pastels popping against the dark wood floor. During the day, this bar serves deep-fried seafood to families on vacation, and at night, it entertains the snowbirds and tourists looking for fun. Springtime in this town means less tourists, less families, less people around to question appear to know each other, have gathered on a random Saturday night in March. 30 normal-looking couples brought together by Dana, looking to have a fun night out. 60 normal-looking men and women standing around doing normal things, having abnormal conversations. Life is returning to this lifestyle community after the chill of winter and the holidays. As Sam and Brenda make their way up the sidewalk, they see another couple they don't recognize, heading towards the front door as well. Sam leans over to his wife and says, Think they're swingers? Oh, definitely. She is kind of cute, Brenda responds. This game is well-practiced and well-played anytime they're out in public. They will guess who around them might be lifestyle, might be interested, might be curious, and who would never. Not really my type, too tall, Sam clarifies, adjusting his hat. I would climb her, Brenda whispers back as they walk behind the couple. Inside the bar, they find half the space packed tight with a cluster of horny, nervous, talkative people, leaving the other side of the bar oddly empty. A couple they do not recognize lingers on the far empty side of the room, taking in the others from the safety of darkness. Brenda makes a snap assessment that they are not their type either. The man is too old and the wife looks stuck up. Sam flies Dana by the bar, with Brenda announcing their arrival loudly, grabbing Dana for a hug. Hey, girl, you look good. Where's David? Brenda asked the question, knowing the answer that Dana gave her yesterday when they texted back and forth. Brenda was trying to figure out an appropriate outfit for tonight and gather intelligence on who's coming. Dana had to shoot down four outfits that Brenda proposed, finally settling on this green dress she was wearing, the most tame of the options. Though Dana did wince when she saw Sam's shirt with a pineapple. Oh, out of town. I didn't want to spend another Saturday night at home, to get people together tonight. Dana answers as Sam moves in for his own hug, bending down, arms wide, then enveloping Dana's body, tight, with a hand sliding down her back to grab her ass. She nervously laughs off his touch as she pulls away from him, taking a step back to add distance. Sam does not notice the laugh or the step, for what it is, preferring his own interpretation of what it means. Damn, you're looking good tonight. Since Dave is out of town, you can come home with us. Sam offers bluntly with a chuckle. Sam, stop it. Brenda is now the one to nervously laugh, slightly hoping Dana would agree, then giving Sam a playful tap on his chest to stop it. I'll let you know how my night goes, Dana chuckles in reply. Sorry we didn't see you at Matt's house party. Brenda drops a line with a questioning tilt at the end, curious where Dana was instead. Wait, did they have another one? Are you talking about the party last year? His birthday party where he put on that concert with his band? Yeah, we didn't go to that one. We heard about it. Dana replies. Yeah, last summer. Oh, it was great. Everyone was DTF. You remember that cute guy with a beard? Brenda asks, Dana nodding in agreement. Brenda smirks through it. Finally got to fuck him, trapped him in the kitchen, girl, and I got it. It was great. But this fucker couldn't get his dick hard. Brenda gives Sam another small pop on his chest. I keep telling him to get the dick shot. Can't get hard when he needs to, Brenda shares with Dana. I heard Matt throws really good parties. Dana wants to divert the topic away from Sam's dick. Brenda continues, the best. Their house is perfect for an orgy. Big pool and couches everywhere. Sam adjusts his hat and he wants to clarify, I forgot my Viagra that night. It happens, Sam. Not a big deal. Those kind of parties. Not really our vibe. The orgies and all that. Dana wants to clarify that right now. Brenda seems confused by the sentence, but before she can question further, another couple walks up, wanting Dana's attention. Brenda squeezes out the question, Are Lydia and Todd coming tonight? As they are socially pushed away. I think so, Dana shares, yelling the words over the shoulder of the man now hugging her. Brenda and Sam float around the periphery of the crowd while Brenda greets and smiles and hugs every person she meets, logging snarky comments about her associates to share with Sam later. Sam greets the assembled men warmly, big handshake, pat on the back, big smiles. He is also logging his snarky comments for later. Brenda's gaze tracks people in pairs, two humans at a time, clocking fast who is who. There's that couple that Brenda and Sam had sex with three years ago that one time. They don't talk to them anymore They were too stuck up There's another couple They have a reputation for being a little weird Brenda doesn't want to talk to them Sam hugs a lady who is known for being very bisexual With no interest in men outside of her husband Another couple Who never swap or fuck around with anyone They're just kind of here Brenda doesn't spend too much time talking to them Voices and faces blur as they weave through the crowd A hundred separate conversations overlapping together the lifestyle that Brenda loves. Couples shift and move positions, avoiding those they have fucked before, gravitating towards those they want to fuck, and rolling past those they have no interest in. The awkward notes of life, sharing stories and memories, planning dates, and feeling each other out through words and tone. Sam and Brenda weave through this electric crowd, taking mental notes of who's here, who's not here, who could be potential partners for the night on their way to the bar. The bartender is a cute 22-year-old, She is a master at pulling tips out of the drunk old men that frequent this place. And she lights up with a smile when she sees Sam. Well, hi there, I'm Kelsey. She offers her name in a napkin to Sam, the high inflection of youth and expectations of tips. Hi, Kelsey, I'm Sam, and this is my wife, Brenda. Sam pulls Brenda away from the conversation she was having, holding her by the shoulders to show her off to Kelsey. Brenda blinks and resets her brain for this new interaction nice to meet you sam and brenda what can i get you kelsey ask i want one of those pineapple margaritas and a white claw sam orders coming right up kelsey responds becoming suddenly busy making the drink sam takes advantage of the moment of relative privacy to ask brenda see anybody you like brenda answers well tom and mike are over there but they got a newbie couple with them i don't recognize them and i I don't know where Micah finds them. I saw Cindy and Kyle. We haven't talked to them in forever. Oh, and I saw Lydia and Todd here, over there. She points in a direction with her chin. Anybody new out here tonight? Sam peers over the heads in the crowd, weary of the same people and the same faces and the same stories. Just that couple Tom and Micah are latched on to for now, Brenda answers. Give it time, though. She offers the words as consolation to Sam. 9.30 PM Sam has been posted up at a table by the entrance of the bar for an hour, leaning and nodding hello to everyone who walks past, his post offering the best vantage point for any stragglers or the fashionably late crowd, and giving him a view of Dana when she breaks through the human congestion. Brenda has been making her rounds, chatting with friends, joining other women for bathroom conversations. She returns to Sam with the intelligence she's gathered. Come on, I found some people we need to meet. They might be DTF tonight. Brenda tells Sam, pushing his collected empty cups out of the way to lean on the table. Oh, yeah, Sam exclaims, pushing off of the table and scooping up his drink. They weave their way through the crowd, Sam shrugging off a greeting from another man with a simple wave. No distractions as they are on a mission. Brenda found Cindy and Kyle, and she is very interested in who they are talking to. for years, though they've never played with Sam and Brenda. They know of each other, sharing some of the same social orbits. Brenda says Cindy is not Sam's type. Brenda thinks she talks too much. Cindy and Kyle are with a couple Sam does not recognize in the empty side of the bar, looking for some calm in the storm. Barging into the conversation, Brenda announces themselves loudly to Cindy and Kyle. Hey guys, you were asking about Sam, so I brought him over to say hi. Kyle did ask in passing, where was Sam when Brenda made her first pass? Then that prompted Brenda to go find her husband. Sam wanted to come over and say hi to you guys. Sam wipes the condensation off his hand and extends it to Kyle. Oh, hi, good to see you again. Sam grips Kyle's hand firmly, then places his other hand on top with one final shake. He looks at Cindy, smiles, and adjusts his hat. Brenda asks of Cindy who are your friends? Noticing the new couple standing next to them. Cindy smiles and says this is Ashley and Tanner. This is their first meetup. Well nice to meet you guys. I'm Brenda and this is Sam. Sam nods his head again to the mention of his name. Brenda positions herself to block Cindy out of the conversation they were having. Checking Cindy's face for a reaction for just a split second. know Cindy and Kyle. Brenda focuses her attention and questions on Ashley. Oh, we met them through one of the sites actually. We saw their profile and they seemed like cool people. Ashley answers over the discordant noise at the bar. Oh, they are awesome people. We have been knowing them for years. Brenda takes a few steps forward, causing Ashley to step back and create more distance from Cindy. Sam closes in to block out Kyle. Cindy taps her husband on the shoulder indicating she needs another drink she gives a simple wave and smiles towards ashley who reciprocates with her own little wave around brenda how long have you guys been in the lifestyle brenda asks of tanner noting the definition in his arms tanner answers we just started i guess a few months ago dipping our toes in then he takes a sip of his drink brenda is now closer to him with sam closing ranks with ashley oh you're new me and brenda have been in this for years, Sam adds, wanting to be included in the conversation, and he says, more than happy to show you guys the ropes. His words directed straight towards Ashley. Tanner chuckles nervously at the implication of Sam's voice. Brenda asks of Ashley, so what is you guys' dynamic? Ashley looks to Tanner for confirmation, and then she shares, well, I guess we are soft-swap right now. We've only been with one couple. Really, Brenda lights up at the confirmation of their freshness. I gotta ask Ashley, are you bi? Cause Brenda here loves licking pussy. Sam yells this out, slapping his wife on the shoulder. Still figuring that one out for me, but Tanner might be open to it. We want to try this out so that he could explore sexuality more. Ashley smirks and nudges her husband, who grins and blushes in response, Oh, shit. Sam exclaims. I'm not into that. He stays flatly, then sips his drink and touches his hat. Brenda, picking on the shift in tone, decides to make a graceful exit. Okay, it was nice meeting you guys. We're gonna go make some rounds. Brenda hugs Ashley and Tanner. Sam gives Ashley a faint side hug, and then a quick head nod to Tanner before they dash away into the crowd. Sam and Brenda return to the bar. Do you think Kyle is bisexual too? Brenda whispers into Sam's ear. He never tried anything with me. I gotta watch him now. Sam answers defiantly, proud that he has protected himself from a man's touch tonight. 10.27 p.m. Sam heads back to the bar to get another White Claw for Brenda, leaving her in a conversation with two other women. Kelsey delivers Sam's pineapple margarita and Brenda's White Claw. He grabs the drinks and turns, and when he does, he bumps into a woman who was walking behind him. They collide, spilling her drink onto her arms. She yelps, and Sam reflexively says, Oh no, sorry, oop. This woman thankfully laughs it off. She's a tall blonde, big blue eyes, wearing a red F1 racing shirt. Sam smiles when they meet eyes, then he remembers this sticky mixture now covering her arms. Oop, I'm so sorry. Sam grabs a stack of paper napkins from the bar and fumbles, dabbing at the liquid. I'll get you another one, he adds. No, no, it's fine. I didn't want it, and it's not the first thing that has spilled on me in a bar. The woman laughs. I'm so sorry about your shirt. Sam now fumbles the words and then smiles. It's fine. Ferrari fan? She asked, noticing his hat. What? Sam is lost now. Red, F1, that's Ferrari colors. Oh, yeah, my grandson got some F1 cars for Christmas. We start watching the races together. He likes red and I like red, so my daughter got me this hat, Sam says and adjusts the hat, making sure that it's still there, worried attention may have dislodged it. Honestly, that's half the reason people get into it, the toys. The woman laughs. There are a lot of rules, and man, they go fast. My grandson really likes it. Sam adds, he doesn't catch her name, but she does educate him on F1 racing. Until Brenda notices the conversation from across the bar. Notices Sam laughing and blushing talking to this woman. Notices that the woman probably doesn't have grandkids. Notices the woman wearing an F1 shirt covering up her perky breast. Brenda approaches like a panther, silent with focus. The woman in the red shirt does not notice Brenda behind her, but Sam does. He stops talking mid-sentence at the sight of his wife, looming and the look in her eyes. Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Brenda. Her voice loud over the den of the bar. There's a hint of shock on the woman's face at the proximity of Brenda's voice, the proximity of Brenda's body. She turns. Oh, hi. No, we haven't met yet. The woman extends a friendly hand. My name is. She's cut off by Brenda stepping beside Sam, putting her arm around him. Sam, are you going to introduce us? Brenda asked, her voice pointed and direct. Oh, yeah, I'm so sorry, I didn't catch your name. We've been talking about F1. Brenda, did you know that most of the races are in the early morning? That's why they're never on TV. Sam shares his knowledge with his wife like a proud toddler with a shiny rock. Sam, did you get my white claw? Brenda's focus is now totally on her husband. Shutting out the other woman. Yeah, and then I made her spill her drink. Again, sorry for that. Sam laughs it off. The other woman laughs. Brenda does not laugh. Well, it was nice to meet you. We need to go talk to somebody. Brenda turns her husband without him having a chance to say goodbye. She escorts her husband to the quiet side of the bar. of Brenda, steering Sam to a table like he is a piece of luggage missing a wheel. Sam takes off his hat, slides his hand over his head that suddenly feels very hot, and replaces the hat. And then he says, I thought you said we needed to talk to people. Oh, we need to talk, alright. What the fuck was that? Brenda's anger is building into something. What do you mean? I was talking to her about F1 racing. Sam isn't sure what to say next. I leave you alone for one minute and you pull this shit just like when we were on the cruise. Brenda's anger is near boiling. She knows bringing up that night will sting Sam. A night on a cruise years ago when he ran off with a woman for a few minutes of fun without Brenda's knowledge. It's not like that. We were talking about F1 racing. Sam wants to settle her down. No you weren't. I'm watching you motherfucker. I need to throw that fucking hat away. She snashes the White Claw out of his hands. 10.45 PM. Brenda is still angry when she goes to the bathroom, declining Sam's offer to escort her, but leaving him with orders to stay in that spot. She opens the door to the bathroom, mumbling a disparaging comment about Sam, and sees a woman standing by the sink crying. Her mascara running down her cheeks, gripping her phone for dear life. Brenda's eyes narrow at the woman. She's seen her around tonight, not really her type, more curves than Brenda prefers. Her name might be Stephanie or Rachel or Beth. Brenda is unsure, and she has had way too many white claws to figure it out right now. Care is replacing anger. Fix yourself. Brenda hands the woman a wet paper towel. The woman accepts it with a loud sniffle. What the fuck's wrong? Brenda asks of this crying woman. the story in broken bits. This woman came to the meetup with her husband. They drove over an hour to get here. When they got here, her husband just up and disappeared and left her. And she doesn't know anyone here. And then some of the ladies were not nice to her. And she doesn't like her outfit. And she doesn't even enjoy swinging like this. And it's a lot. Brenda smiles through it all. Hon, what is your name? Brenda asked her, forcing the woman to focus on something else. Stephanie, the crying woman answers. Ha! I knew it! Okay, Stephanie, you're okay. Brenda pulls the woman in for a tight two-arm hug. Stop crying right now. It is not worth crying over. Men go crazy in this shit. They chase anything that smiles back at them, and you don't have to put up with it. Brenda hands the woman a pink hair tie that magically showed up from nowhere. Stephanie accepts it, pulling her hair back to dab the lines of mascara on her face in the mirror. You go tell that motherfucker he upset you and make him take you home right now. There is no reason to treat you this way. If you're not having fun, just go home. It's a rule I live by. Brenda hands the woman another paper towel. Look, I've been in this for a long time. People are fucking assholes all the time. Fuck them dumb bitches. Clicky assholes, okay? Honey, you need to go home. This is not church. You do not get credit for suffering. The woman stops crying She pulls herself back together with a long sniff and wipes her nose Okay, yeah, okay, go home Brenda wipes away a tear from the corner of Stephanie's eye with a finger and gives her a final order Wipe your face, go find your husband, and go home Brenda gives her one last squeeze Now, I gotta pee, keep the hair tight, darling Brenda returns to Sam, still nursing his drink in his pride Brenda gives a half-hearted smile to her husband and then adjusts her dress. She sees Stephanie heading towards the door. Head up, shoulders back, walking with a fucking purpose. A man following her, walking a little too quickly, trying to catch up. Good for her, Brenda thinks, a smile spreading across her face that she immediately wipes away when she turns back to Sam. The meetup is in full swing, and the crowd size has peaked at around 80-ish people. More than Dana expected, but it's a really good turnout. Sam has been nursing his wounded prize, his eyes locked with the Ferrari woman once or twice, and he immediately looked away, maybe ashamed. Brenda has been silent, deciding that it was the time of the night to switch to Long Island Life's Tees, two of them. The only words she has shared were a simple motherfucker when he looked up and smiled at her about seven minutes ago. They linger by a high-top table, Brenda in search mode looking for distraction and stimulation. And she finds it. Brenda jumps up from her chair. Sam, it's Lydia. Her excitement is palpable. Oh, where? Sam welcomes the words and the distraction and the break from the silent treatment. Over there in line for the bathroom. Brenda slides off the chair and heads towards Lydia. Her feet unsure on the ground, Sam catches her, and she shrugs him off with a nasty look. Sam adjusts his hat as they walk past Dana. Dana notes they're stumbling, as do the other people gathered around her. Lydia sees Brenda coming and sucks her teeth, mentally preparing herself for the conversation, dreading the fact that her husband, Todd, was in the bathroom. She tries to send him a telepathic message to please hurry up. Well, hey there, fancy seeing you. It's been a while. Brenda goes in for a big hug, which Lydia returns with one arm and a half-smile. Hi, Brenda, where's Sam? Oh, yep, there he is. Lydia sees Sam come in for an even bigger hug that ends with a hand on her ass and a gentle squeeze. Sam steps back, proud of himself for giving such a good hug that clearly communicates his interest in her. Brenda's presence allowing him to linger physically a little bit longer with that hug he steps back and adjusts his hat it's been so long since we've seen you how have you been Brenda asks Lydia answers good busy you know life just gets in the way always something with the kids you know we want to hang out we want to hang out with you sometime it's been so long how about next weekend Brenda repeats the fact that it has been a long time The last time was last year. Months ago. Their first and only date that ended with only dinner. Their repeated attempts at setting up another date have been met with excuses, simple platitudes, and vague time frames. Oh, sorry, we got soccer games, Lydia replies, not looking at them, staring towards the men's bathroom door. Well, we can find a free weekend sometime, and hey, hey, we got tonight. You're looking so sexy. Brenda compliments Lydia and adds in another hug for good measure when did you guys get here we didn't see you sneak in about an hour or so I guess actually we've been in the parking lot talking to Matt Lydia answers and sends another telepathic message to her husband to please hurry the fuck up Sam feels a mixture of emotions at the mention of Matt and the fact that Lydia was talking to him Matt younger full head of hair tattoos through that parking lot that did not go well for Sam. He adjusts his hat and throws out, Matt, that skinny motherfucker. What did he want to talk about, his band? Lydia hears the tone of his voice and decides to ignore it when she answers, yeah, they're going on tour soon. Brenda wants to pull this back. We need to get together soon. What are you guys doing after this? We can get a hotel room if you want to keep hanging out. Brenda offers her courage and friendliness amped up by those Long Island I don't really know. We might just go home and sleep. Todd has to get up early in the morning. Lydia deflects the offer. Well, fuck Todd. We don't need him. Sam decided to no longer be subtle. Little bit brave. Yeah, we could just hang out with you and have fun. Brenda steps closer to Lydia. Sorry, guys. You know we don't play separately. Lydia drops the words like a lead weight and right on cue, thankfully, Todd comes back from the bathroom. Oh, hey, you guys, good to see you. Todd stands next to Lydia, places an arm around her. Feeling the vibe in the air, shields his wife. It was really good catching up. Lydia shakes Sam's hand and gives Brenda a smile. We're gonna go get drinks. It was good seeing you. She takes Todd's hand and escorts him, walks with him, leads him away. Well, fuck. at Lydia slipping through her fingers again. 12.20 a.m. Sam and Brenda have been hanging out at a high-top table since the conversation with Lydia and Todd. They watch people mingle and talk, though they have no social energy left. The crowd is thinning now, the din of conversation lowering, allowing the sounds of those televisions to bubble up. Guess no one is DTF tonight. Sam finally breaks the silence. This knocks back the rest of his margarita and starts crunching the ice. He watches some sports show on the television, mentally checking the fuck out. Will you shut the fuck up? I tried. I didn't see you out there talking to people. Brenda chastises her husband for his opinion. Loudly. I tried. Sam clarifies, his eyes locked on Dana moving through the shrieking crowd. Get me a drink. Brenda orders him in a huff. This would be her. Fourth, Long Island Iced Tea. Sam briefly ponders which one of them would be driving home, then dismisses the thought as a future problem. Sam heads towards the bar and mumbles a dumb bitch under his breath. He flags down Kelsey, the bartender. He notes how cute she looks right now. A single strand of hair just popped out and escaped from her bun, her pink fingernails popping in the bar lights. Somewhere deep inside Sam, the last ember of his charm, Flares to life. Kelsey, come here, Kelsey. Sam's volume increases with every word. Kelsey bounces over to him, slipping on a perfectly crafted mask to deal with men like him. Hi, honey, you need some water? She can tell this man is beyond the point of safely serving him alcohol. No, I need to talk to you, come here. Sam beckons her closer and she leans in with hesitation, knowing the nature of his words before he even fucking says them. Look, me and my wife, we're swingers, okay? Need to tell you that so you know I'm not some creep hitting on you like every other man. It's okay. We both think you are fine as hell. Sam slurs towards the woman. Okay. Kelsey knew ahead of time what this group was and who they are and was mentally prepared for this exact fucking moment. My wife over there, she thinks you are so fucking sexy. Sam adds, and Kelsey nods with indifference on her face. He turns back to Brenda and waves for permission to continue. Brenda is unsure why Sam is waving at her and gives him a half-hearted wave back, her attention focused now on Lydia and Todd, leaving the bar with another couple at the same time, all four of them laughing together as they go. Brenda mumbles a simple motherfucker under her breath. the rejection stinging her pride so uh what time do you get off you want to go get a drink with us sam doesn't realize the absurdity of asking a bartender to go get a drink in this moment but he continues just saying i know i might look old okay but i can still get down and my wife over there is the best at licking pussy the absurdity of these words are shocking to kelsey and she laughs unsure how to respond to Properly? What's so funny? I didn't say anything funny. I'm being honest right now. Let me get your number. Sam is now getting flustered because nothing's working. I'm sorry. I can't do that. How about a water? Kelsey wants to end this conversation in the kindest way possible. She grabs a plastic cup and scoops ice into it. Look here. Look here. Everybody in here. We are all swingers, okay? And me and my wife are looking to swing, baby. I could fuck you so good. I got eight inches of dick with your name on it. I promise you ain't never seen a dick as big as mine. For clarity, this was a flat-out lie that Sam would often parade out whenever he had had too many drinks, secretly hoping that no woman would call him out on it after her eventual disappointment in seeing his not-eight-inch dick. All right, I'm fucking done. Kelsey stays calmly turning and walking away leaving the plastic cup full of ice and no water well fuck you then Sam mumbles into his cup Brenda catches the sight of Kelsey leaving in a huff she stumble marches to the bar confronting Sam what the fuck did you do she yells at Sam loudly her voice cracking the air neither one of them notices the woman in the red shirt heading around the bar in their direction the fucking thing you couldn't do Try to find us some pussy tonight. Sam answers loudly his voice booming in the air. You drunk motherfucker you've been drinking all night your dick ain't gonna work anyway. Brenda corrects him. As they argue Kelsey talks to her manager who then flags down Dana. Dana winces at the story she is told and sighs. The woman in the red Ferrari shirt sees Brenda and Sam now arguing and slows her approach. Breaking her stride. She stops. They don't. She decides that she does not want to finish the conversation with Sam or get his contact information. The woman in the red Ferrari shirt heads towards the front door to call it a night. 1230 AM. Their tirade ends when Dana taps Brenda on the shoulder. Brenda turns to face Dana, nearly falls, caught by the equally unsteady Sam. Hey girl, where have you been? Brenda loudly asked, broken out of the spiral of anger, throwing her arms wide for a hug. Stop. Outside. Now. We need to talk. Dana's tone is stern as she slithers out of Brenda's grasp. Sam misreads the tone as well and goes in for a hug. Did you change your mind? We could get a hotel room. No. Dana answers. I need you to go outside. Now. Dana's tone does not change it does not soften. What? Brenda doesn't understand the request confused on why Dana wants to go outside when everyone is inside having fun. The manager asks that we talk I need you to step outside right now. Dana is no longer asking and turns both of them towards the door physically. Brenda and Sam make a scene despite Dana's attempts to not draw attention to them maybe out of kindness. Sam stumbles over a chair. out. We're going to be right back, everybody. Dana corrects her. No, you won't. But Brenda does not hear that. Sam does, though. And his face drops. Aha! I did another story. Thank you for listening and tuning in every week. Make sure you tell a friend about the show. Thank you to the love of my life, my wife, who is on this wonderful lifestyle journey with me. All right. Look, I did my best at reading this thing. I hope it made fucking sense. Just go listen to it again. I promise it'll make more sense on the second read-through. My personal disclaimer, I'm not a medical professional, nor a trained and certified educator of any kind in any way. I'm a guy with a microphone sharing my personal experiences with you. This podcast is for entertainment purposes only, and please join us for the next episode. Go to stthehero.com, use my promo code TOL15 for 15% off your order, and get tested. And just a reminder, Risqué Lifestyle Party's Mardi Gras Party, March 13th to the 15th in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 2026 this year, coming up in like a week. Two weeks? Eight days? Go to RiskeLifestyleParties.com for more information. What even you may do today or tonight, I hope you do it with enthusiasm, consent, curiosity, and a little bit of spice. You are appreciated, loved, and I will see you for the next episode.