Master of the Mountain

When his eyes released her, she almost fell backward.

Chapter Three

After supper, the club members took over the big lodge room, shoving chairs and couches into the center of the room. When Matt took a seat on one couch and tugged Rebecca down beside him, she frowned at him. Although he'd been attentive enough on the hike down the mountain and since then, resentment still burned inside her chest.

Get over it, girl. He hasn't done anything wrong, after all. Swinging, remember? They'd come to screw other people, and she needed to get with the program. She gave him a sidelong look. Maybe she'd just screw everything and everyone in sight. Plastering a sweet smile on her face, she asked, “So what happens now?”

He patted her hand. “This is a 'meet and greet,' where we play games to break the ice.”

She settled back on the couch and sipped her wine. Fine. God knew she'd done enough of this sort of thing during team-building exercises. They'd probably start with a stand-up-and-tell-

“Rebecca,” Mel said, interrupting her thoughts. His T-shirt curved over his round belly as he pointed at her. “Stand up and tell us something about you.”

As everyone turned to look at her, she stood. Just like giving a presentation to a client. “My name is Rebecca, and I'm an artist in an advertising firm. This is the first time I've been out of the city, and the first time I've done… swinging stuff…so I'm feeling somewhat lost.”

The expressions of sympathy and welcome comforted her. These were nice people. Really. So maybe she was just too uptight, like Matt said, and she should give them a chance. She'd come here for exactly that, right? To explore her sexuality and get in touch with her inner vamp. To keep her perfect relationship intact.

After the formalities, the couples split apart, joining different groups to play games. Matt chose the group playing Twister, and Rebecca watched for a few minutes. Whoever fell over had to take off clothing, and one petite brunette deliberately lost her balance at least twice.

“Rebecca, join us.” Brandon grabbed her hand and pulled her off the couch. On the other side of the room, Ginger sat beside Paul, the college professor, and Christopher by Serena. Rebecca took a seat beside Brandon.

Motioning toward the coffee table set up with dice, a board game, and a pile of cards, Ginger said, “Okay, gang. Roll the dice and move your marker. Do whatever the space you land on says. If you win a card, you give it to someone, and that person has to do what it says. If you roll doubles, you have to remove an article of clothing.” She assumed a severe expression. “Jewelry doesn't count as clothing.”

“Wahoo,” Brandon said, rubbing his hands together. “Let's get started.”

Rebecca sucked in a breath. She could do this.

As the game progressed, Ginger had to remove her shirt and bra. Christopher lost his shoes. Paul, his socks.

Rebecca landed on a square and read the command. “Oh God.” Paul laughed and filled her wineglass. She drank it down and took her shirt off. For the second time today.

On his turn, Brandon drew a card and then handed it to her. “Read it aloud.”

“Stand up and give the person a French kiss. All body parts should touch.” Good grief.

He rose to his feet and waggled his fingers in a come-here gesture.

I can do this-her own personal mantra, at least in this place. Rebecca put her hands on his shoulders. Not very muscular. Nice cologne. His hands spread over her bare back as he pulled her closer, until her breasts squashed against his chest. She kissed him. His mouth was wet, his mustache tickled, and his tongue technique lacked finesse. She wrapped her arms around him tighter, trying to feel something erotic. Surely she shouldn't be critiquing during a hot kiss.

But it just wasn't that hot. In the past, she'd occasionally stuck out as the only sober one in a drunken crowd; this time, she was the only frigid one in a horny crowd.

She drank more wine.

Faces became flushed. Voices louder and sillier. One couple moved to a couch farther away to make out. Michelle and Greg quit playing Twister and stripped down in front of the fire. Within a minute, Greg lay flat, Michelle straddling him and guiding his penis into her.

Good grief. Rebecca turned her eyes away. The patterns of the room had changed. And she didn't see Matt anywhere.

Her turn with the dice. She rolled a double. Ginger giggled, and the three men leaned forward expectantly, waiting for her to choose what she'd take off.

“Take your bra off, honey.” Brandon put his hand on her breast as if she didn't understand.

Was this passion she felt? Hardly. Rebecca's inner vamp has left the building. She set her wine down, picked up her shirt, and rose. “Sorry, folks, but I guess I'm just not a swinger. I'm heading to bed.” When Brandon stood up eagerly, she withered him with a cold stare. “Alone.”

Others headed out in twos and threes, making their way to the cabins. As Rebecca went out the lodge door, she looked back. Three more had joined the two in front of the fire. Whoa, lots of naked body parts there. God, she so should not have come here. But how would she know unless she gave it a try, right? Obviously some people- including Matt-really enjoyed this…stuff.

A splatter of rain hit her naked shoulders as she stepped off the porch. Wind whipping at her hair, she tugged on her shirt, hurrying down the trail to the cabin. With a sigh of relief, she unlocked the door and flicked on the light.

“Hey!” Matt's voice. He reclined on the bed, naked; Ashley knelt between his legs, her mouth fastened to his cock.

Rebecca gasped. A sick wail ballooned inside her head, ringing in her ears, although nothing escaped her throat.

Ashley didn't release him, just looked over and smirked. Her head slowly bobbed up and down.

“C'mere, babe,” Matt said, motioning with his free hand. The other massaged Ashley's breast. “You can join us. I like getting it on with two women.”

Rebecca took a step back and found her voice from wherever it had gone. “I don't think I'd enjoy it. Sorry, Matt. And sorry for the interruption.” She backed up, telling herself not to be petty by slamming the door.

She slammed the door so hard that pinecones pattered onto the ground from the closest trees.

Petty is as petty does. But that was her perfect boyfriend in their cabin. With Ashley and her fat lips around his cock. The porch step blurred, and Rebecca tripped, landing on her hands and knees. Grit burned into her hands, and her eyes stung with tears. She blinked furiously. Damned if she'd cry.

She staggered to her feet, her head spinning. She'd drank too much alcohol trying to fit in. Hadn't worked, had it? Standing in the rain, she wiped the tears from her eyes and water from her face. “Damn, damn, damn.” Where could she find a bed tonight? Feeling like she was stuck on a merry-go-round, she headed back to the lodge. Once there, she peeked inside. In front of the fire, people roiled together like a massive animal with way too many arms and legs. She backed out quickly.

She sure couldn't sleep in there. Maybe the kitchen? No. The moron who built the oversize doorways for the dining room and kitchen had somehow neglected to include actual doors. With her luck, some male idiot looking for wine would trip over her instead. No way.

Staring down the trails, she saw people coming and going from the cabins in a raunchy version of musical chairs. Musical cabins? But she was the loser, the one left without a chair. Or bed. Fine. Who needs a bed anyway?

Scowling, she walked over to the porch swing. Pulling her wet shirt tighter, she curled up on the damp cushions. In the shadows, no one would see her, and she might be cold, but at least she'd be free of wandering hands and wet lips. She shuddered, cutting off that train of thought. Had she really wanted a relationship with Matt so badly?

Her mother's psychiatrist husband would probably call it a life lesson. And how.