SUMMER SWAP // Chapter 7

Scarlet made fruit punch from frozen concentrate, crushed four cups of ice in the refrigerator’s built-in ice machine, put it all in the blender, added half a bottle of vodka and turned it slushy. She sliced oranges and put them like pinwheels on the lip of the glasses. She texted Cheyenne, asking her where the heck she was.

While she waited for Chey to get back to her, she shimmied and danced on the slippery kitchen floor, winging open the fridge door, grabbing three tubes of rolled imported sausage from last night’s leftover charcuterie tray, popped them into her mouth, shifting from hip to hip and fanning the refrigerator door open and closed, blasting some cold air on her still-sweaty chest. She’d put clothes on.

Her session with Sully had doused her fire. She couldn’t even believe she was the same person who stripped in front of everyone this morning. She was in a swimsuit now and a light, see-through caftan. Her phone dinged, and she moonwalked her way backwards to the counter. The text was from Cheyenne, saying she was sitting out back above the swimming deck.

“I was looking all over for you,” she muttered, picked up the two frosty glasses and headed out of the kitchen, through the dining room, into the back of the yacht. She passed by the glass walls of the swimming pool where she’d cavorted with Philippe, taunting her husband. She snickered, looking up at the pool surface to see if her big-dick lover-boy was still hanging around poolside, waiting for her to come back. No sign of him.

Then she was outside, under the shade of the level above her, but in the fresh outdoors. Cheyenne sat at the top of the stairs with her elbows on her knees, chin in her palms, admiring the Caribbean Sea.

“Peekaboo,” Scarlet said and toe-poked Cheyenne’s side as she came up beside her and sat down.

Chey jumped and tucked back an elbow protectively. “Don’t,” she said.

Scarlet could tell from her face that anxious Cheyenne had returned. “Oh, come on, grumpy,” she said, and passed over the big 24-ounce tumbler of frozen vodka and fruit punch with an orange slice.

Cheyenne’s expression changed into one of relief and joy, and she took the offering with two hands, put the straw between her lips and sucked a long steady draw. She hummed the sound of exquisite satisfaction.

“That will fix whatever ails you,” Scarlet said, adjusting her caftan, putting her own straw in her mouth and taking a drink.

They sat saying nothing for a while, and Scarlet waited for Cheyenne to divulge what was bothering her now. Chey had also put clothes on: jean shorts, Birkenstocks, and a T-shirt.

When Chey didn’t say anything and they were almost halfway down their tumblers of alcoholic fruit punch, Scarlet said, “All bundled up again?”

Cheyenne tugged at Scarlet’s caftan. “Your dressed, too.”

“And I had a shower as well.”

When Chey looked over, Scarlet wriggled her eyebrows in a salacious manner. “All that labor flirting with Philippe paid off. Sully couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

Cheyenne scrunched her nose. “Oh. Okay. Good for you guys.”

Scarlet still wanted to cheer up her friend, wanted to tell her everything that had just happened, but it was kind of personal. She said, “I think Sully had ‘an accident.’”

Cheyenne frowned, not getting it. “Pooped?”

“What? No, not pooped. I wouldn’t tell you that.” Then she cocked her head. “No, maybe I would. But no, not that. All my teasing drove Sully a little too crazy, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” Cheyenne said, “I got it. He was pretty horned up.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was walking around naked like it was no big deal, you know?” She made a fist and put up her forearm at the angle of an erection.

Scarlet chuckled. “I think he was too proud not to strip down when everyone else did—then, you know, things happened.”

“Things definitely happened,” Chey said, poked the straw into her drink and stirred it around, then slugged some more back, bypassing the straw and slurping right from the glass’s lip.

Scarlet stirred her drink around, too, wondering what Cheyenne was getting at. Sully was strutting around with an erection? And then she thought about her uncomfortable supposition about her husband’s nefarious thoughts after conversing with Byron. Sully thought he was a candidate to sleep with Chey while Byron watched. Without looking at Cheyenne, she said, “What, did he put it in your face or something?”

Chey shook her head, upended her tumbler, drinking until it was dry. Scarlet said, “You were thirsty.”

Cheyenne said, “Is there any more?”

She nodded. “Half a blender. He didn’t stick his dick in your face, did he?”

“No. He was just out and proud, walking around with that thing like he was dowsing for water. But it was pointing in the wrong direction, up instead of down.”

Scarlet nodded. “Is everything okay?”

Chey had been waiting for it. She instantly slumped against Scarlet’s side, and Scarlet hooped an arm around Chey’s shoulder. “What is it now?” she said with support, but also comical acknowledgment that Chey always added drama even when they were all full up with it.

Chey said, “It’s me. I almost let you-know-who fuck me over the kitchen counter.”

“Who, Cody?”

Chey pushed away. “Who else?”

“So what happened?”

“I’m standing there naked, making a salad, and he comes into the kitchen, he’s pretending to be”—she looked behind her to make sure no one was sneaking up on them, then got close, whispering, “you know, pretending he’s a cowboy again.”

“And you are Susan.”

“At first I was like playing along with it because I didn’t want him to feel rejected or something, and the next thing you know…”

“You’re really going along with it.”

Chey rubbed her brow, setting her empty glass down behind her. “That guy knows all my buttons.”

“But you didn’t do anything?”

“No,” she said adamantly, shaking her head, her chestnut hair glistening in the sun. She swept it back from her face, wound it behind her neck, and let it hang over her shoulder. “No, I wouldn’t do that. But I almost did.” She bit on her lower lip.

“But you didn’t, Chey.”

Cheyenne put a hand over her stomach like she ate too much and said, “Cody just really gets me going.”

“Are you guys going to do it again?”

Chey shook her head and tucked her mouth to one side, looking down at the swimming deck at the bottom of the stairs. “I think we are. But it’s like I don’t want to bring it up to Byron because I’m afraid he’s going to change his mind and say no, and I don’t want to be disappointed. But, at the same time, I want to get something happening. You know?”

“So, don’t sweat it. Just be cool about it. Try not to trip and fall onto his dick or anything until you guys work it out.”

Chey rubbed her brow like she had a headache. “He was wearing these little tiny swimming trunks.”

“He is hot,” Scarlet said, then looked over her own shoulder, knowing if Sully caught her saying that, there might be a blowup.

“I was making fun of him, making fun of the trunks, but then the next thing you know, I’m like grabbing his package.”

Scarlet stifled a laugh. “He really horns you up.”

“I really want it to happen again, Scarlet.”

“And you want Byron to watch.”

Chey nodded. “I think— I think Byron might be okay with it.”

Scarlet chewed her cheek a moment, then said, “Yeah, he tried to talk to Sully about it.”

Cheyenne’s went eyes went wide as saucers like she couldn’t believe it. “He did? What did he say? What did Sully say? Did Byron say—”

Scarlet put up a hand to slow her down. “He didn’t really say much about it. Sully was off in his own world because I was doing you-know-what with you-know-who.” She made a big-penis gesture with both hands. “Driving Sully crazy. I don’t think he was really paying attention, but then again…”

Cheyenne grabbed her arm. “But then again what?”

“I don’t know. I think he got some idea in his head, but he was all mixed up.”

“Byron?”

“No. My dolt. Sully.” Her features pinched as she worried about it. She’d been quite pleased with herself thinking that her teasing had sent her husband running upstairs where he could ejaculate alone and no one would see him, but maybe there was more to it.

“What is it?” Cheyenne stroked her arm.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Well, tell me what he said.”

Scarlet shrugged, finished her drink, and then set it down behind her. She paused a second and pressed a thumb to her eyebrow, trying to squish away a sudden head freeze. “That’s a damn good drink. We need to get more.”

“We’ll get more,” Chey said, and gripped her arm. “Just tell me what Sully said.”

“Byron told Sully you want him to watch you…”

“Watch me with Cody.”

“No, he just said you wanted him to watch you have sex with another guy.”

“And how did he sound?”

“I wasn’t there, Chey. You want to talk to Sully?”

Chey huffed. “This is so brutal.” She planted her elbows on her skinny knees and covered her face with her hands. Scarlet rubbed her back. Chey said, “I want to do it, but I’m so worried about Carla.”

“Carla doesn’t want it to happen?”

“No,” Chey said, thrusting her hands out and gesturing at the sea. “I’m worried about Carla with Byron.”

“Oh, this again.”

Chey shot her a funny look, lips thinned and squirmed into an indignant squiggle. “Don’t act like you don’t get it.”

“I do,” Scarlet admitted, eyes rolling up. “I know what you’re saying.”

“If only there was a way around that part, this would be so much easier.”

“Yeah,” Scarlet agreed. “If only there was a way.”

Chey kept her head facing Scarlet. “Like, if he could sleep with someone else or something. Not Carla.”

“Wow, you’re really getting into the scene, really passing Byron around now.”

Chey shook her head and looked away. “That’s not what I mean,” she said.

She’d known Chey a long time, and knew when Chey spoke with was subtext. Knew when there was a time to read between the lines. If only there was a way. If only Byron could sleep with someone else.

She said, “Like who?”

“Not Carla,” Cheyenne said, laughing it off, but her laugh too high-pitched and nervous to be convincing.

“With who, Chey?”

“Nobody,” she said, and waved her hand away like it was all stupid.

“Wait a second,” Scarlet said. “Say it.”

“It’s nothing,” Chey said, but wouldn’t look Scarlet’s way

Scarlet’s eyebrows rose high. “That’s how bad you want to sleep with Cody?”

Now Chey looked over, wounded. “What, do you think that’s bad?”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That’s how bad you want to sleep with Cody, you’d ask somebody that?”

Chey’s eyes widened, defensive and looking to take the implication back. “Somebody who?”

Scarlet stopped and rolled her eyes, but then broke out laughing. After all her terrible surmising this morning, saving Cheyenne as some dumb back-pocket play if she actually wanted to fool around with Philippe’s magical dong, and here was Cheyenne back-pocketing her buddy Scarlet the whole time. She laughed into her hands, then swept her hair back.

Chey said, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” she said. “I’m laughing. We’re more alike than I remembered, even.”

“Why do you say that?”

“So how do you picture it, Chey? The four of us have a fancy bottle of champagne and get in the hot tub? Is Byron going to wear one of those Hugh Hefner robes, you know, velvet with a tasseled belt?”

“Who’s that?”

“You’re in design—what the heck? You have to know Playboy.”

Cheyenne’s head sagged on her neck. “Oh, yeah, that guy. I know Playboy.”

Scarlet said, “So, is that how you see it?”

“I don’t picture it at all, Scarlet.” Cheyenne’s mouth shifted around, going from side to side, her sad eyes turned down. “I hope you know that.”

Scarlet put her arm around her again and kissed her shoulder. “I’m not mad at all. It was something I wondered about, too.”

“About Byron?”

She laughed. “No, not Byron specifically. I just mean if I ever did want to, you know, swing, I wouldn’t want Sully inside Carla’s bedroom.”

“He could flub it,” Chey said hopefully.

“Nah, Sully wouldn’t,” she said.

“Yeah,” Cheyenne said, stroking her own forearm and looking off to the horizon.

“But I thought of the same thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want Sully going to Carla, and I couldn’t just get what I want…” She waited for Cheyenne to catch on.

“So you wondered about me and Sully?”

Scarlet shrugged. She hadn’t really thought about it very much, but the sinuous path to get what she wanted revealed a few milestones along the way, and Sully being with Cheyenne had been one of those possible milestones.

Chey cocked her head. “Hey, did you tell Sully this?”

“Did I tell Sully this? No way. Why?”

“Because he was walking around with that thing. He sat down next to me at the pool and he leaned back, you know, like to give me a good look at it.”

“He is such an idiot. Did he really do that?”

“I wasn’t offended or anything. Shit, I was sitting there naked. Maybe I should be offended if he didn’t have it, you know...” Chey made the forearm-fist erection again.

Scarlet sighed. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be mad at him or not.”

“Don’t be mad at him. He’s just not shy.”

“I gotta tell you something. I worked him over with that whole Philippe charade thing, and it set him on fire.”

“It set Byron on fire, too, me being with Cody. Me just talking about it. He was practically dancing out of his pants. Carla told me when he was in the bedroom with her he kept talking about me and Cody rather than doing what he was supposed to be doing.”

“Wow,” she muttered, feeling that heat down below again. Wondering where Sully was. Might have to go for round three pretty soon. “It’d be so weird, though. Could you do it? The four of us like that?”

“I know Sully. Like I see him, we go out for dinner. He’s your husband.”

“I’m fine with it. I always liked Byron.”

“He’s a little afraid of you.”

“Good.”

“Not as afraid of you as he is of Carla. Maybe he’d be more relaxed.”

“Well,” Scarlet sighed, “I don’t think Sully would have any problem with it if I said he could go ahead. And you wanted it, too, of course.”

Cheyenne grimaced. “Are we really talking about this? Like me and Sully?”

“This is like ‘Strangers On A Train.’”

Cheyenne slapped her thigh, proud of herself. “I know that one. Hitchcock. Two strangers get to talking on a train and arrange to murder each other’s wives so they can get away with it.”

“You think we’re a couple of murderers?”

Cheyenne’s expression slackened to timid. “We’re not really doing it, are we?”

Scarlet shrugged, thinking about it. “I don’t think I can be in the same room.”

“As Byron?”

“No, you and Sully. I have to be in the same room as Byron.”

“It’s so complicated,” Cheyenne said.

“All so we can get what we want, and they can’t.”

“Hey,” Cheyenne said, bothered. “We’re doing something for them, too.”

“You’re right,” Scarlet said. She hadn’t even thought of it that way.

“I think I could do it,” Chey said. “But how would I ever see you guys again?”

“I know,” Scarlet said.

But then she sat in silence, the two of them looking at the sunlight dance on the Caribbean Sea, and she thought instead of what would happen after her time with Byron. What would happen after she and Byron did whatever she and Byron might do?

She would be with Philippe.

And it started to work on her, started to get her thighs rubbing together, thinking about it. Wondering where it would happen. Wondering how far she might go. Sully sure had responded to it. But it was just play, just fantasy. What would he do if it was for real?

She looked over her shoulder, nudged Cheyenne with her elbow. “That’s where you should get Byron to watch you.”

“Where?” Chey said, looking back.

“The swimming pool. There are chairs there. He sits and watches you through the window wall as you two swim around and do stuff under the water.”

Cheyenne turned her nose up. “I hate underwater sex.”

Scarlet admitted it, too. “Feels too squeaky.”

They both laughed, and Scarlet hugged her again.