The fluorescent lights in the hotel lobby buzzed like a trapped fly, casting a sterile glow over the fake marble counter where Tara and Nate checked in. Tara’s fingers drummed on her purse, her nails chipped from a week of nervous picking. Nate stood beside her, his jaw tight, scrolling through his phone with a thumb that moved too fast to be reading anything. They’d driven three hours to get here, to this nondescript chain hotel off the highway, the kind of place where nobody asked questions. The swinger club was a ten-minute Uber ride away, tucked in an industrial park, according to the website’s vague directions.
“Room 312,” the clerk said, sliding two keycards across the counter. His eyes didn’t lift from the computer screen. Tara muttered a thanks, her voice barely audible. Nate grabbed the cards and their overnight bag, his sneakers squeaking on the polished floor as they headed for the elevator.
Inside the room, the air smelled of bleach and stale air conditioning. Tara dropped her purse on the bed and stared at the beige curtains, her stomach churning. This was her idea, not Nate’s. She’d brought it up six months ago, half-joking over a bottle of cheap merlot, when their sex life had started feeling like a chore. “What if we tried something wild?” she’d said, her words slurring. “Like, a sex club or something.” Nate had laughed, his eyes crinkling, thinking she was kidding. But she wasn’t. The idea had rooted itself in her mind, growing through late-night Google searches and Reddit threads. She was 32, a paralegal who spent her days sorting case files, her nights scrolling through TikTok. She wanted something to shake her awake, to feel alive in her skin again.
Nate, though, wasn’t sold. He was 35, a high school math teacher with a habit of overthinking everything. “What if we see someone we know?” he’d asked when she finally pushed the idea seriously. “What if it’s weird? What if you hate it?” His questions piled up, each one a brick in the wall of his anxiety. But Tara wore him down, her persistence fueled by a mix of desperation and curiosity. “It’s just one night,” she’d said. “If it sucks, we leave. No harm done.” He’d agreed, reluctantly, because he loved her and because he couldn’t stand the thought of her thinking he was boring.
Now, standing in the hotel room, Nate tossed the bag on the floor and flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice flat, like he was asking about dinner plans.
Tara kicked off her flats and sat on the edge of the bed, her hands twisting in her lap. “Yeah,” she lied. Her heart was pounding, and her mouth felt dry. She’d spent weeks imagining this , strangers’ hands, dim lights, the thrill of breaking rules. But now, faced with the reality, she felt like she might throw up. “It’s gonna be fun,” she added, more to convince herself than him.
Nate sat up, running a hand through his sandy hair. “Fun,” he repeated, skeptical. “What if it’s, like, a bunch of creepy old dudes in bathrobes? Or what if everyone’s super hot and we’re the awkward ones?” He laughed, but it was sharp, nervous. Tara knew that laugh , it was the one he used when he was spiraling.
“Stop it,” she said, swatting his knee. “It’s not gonna be like that. The website said it’s classy. There’s a bar, a dance floor, even a buffet. It’s not some shady basement orgy.”
Nate raised an eyebrow. “A buffet? What, like shrimp cocktail next to the lube station?”
Tara snorted, the tension in her chest loosening a fraction. “Gross. But yeah, probably.” She leaned back, her shoulder brushing his. “Look, we don’t have to do anything. We can just watch, have a drink, see what it’s like. No pressure.”
He nodded, but his eyes were distant, like he was calculating the odds of disaster. Tara knew he was thinking about the what-ifs again. What if they got separated? What if someone pushed them into something they didn’t want? What if this changed them, cracked something in their relationship they couldn’t fix? She felt a pang of guilt for dragging him into this, but she shoved it down. This was her chance to feel something new, to step out of the box she’d built around herself.
They showered separately, the bathroom steam carrying the scent of hotel soap. Tara stood under the hot water, her mind racing. She’d packed a black dress, tight but not too revealing, and heels she could barely walk in. She wanted to look confident, like she belonged, even if she felt like an impostor. Nate had packed jeans and a button-down, his usual “nice” outfit, because he refused to “dress like a porn star.” She smiled at the memory of him saying that, his face red with embarrassment.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, Nate was already dressed, sitting on the bed with his phone. He looked up, and for a second, his eyes softened. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile. “You?”
He shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
She laughed, but it came out shaky. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, babe. At least pretend you’re excited.”
He grinned, a real one this time. “Fine. I’m thrilled. Can’t wait to see what kind of weirdos we’re about to meet.”
Tara rolled her eyes and started getting dressed. The black dress hugged her hips, and she tugged at the hem, suddenly self-conscious. She wasn’t model-thin, and her thighs jiggled when she walked. What if nobody there found her attractive? What if they laughed? She pushed the thoughts away and slipped on her heels, wobbling as she stood.
Nate whistled, low and teasing. “Damn, you clean up nice.”
“Shut up,” she said, but she was smiling. His approval steadied her, a small anchor in the storm of her nerves.
They called an Uber, and the ride to the club was quiet, the driver’s radio playing soft jazz that did nothing to calm Tara’s racing pulse. Nate held her hand, his palm sweaty, and she squeezed it, grateful for the contact. The industrial park was dark, lined with warehouses and empty lots. The club was in a low, unmarked building with a neon sign that just said “Lounge.” It looked like a dive bar, not a den of debauchery, and Tara wasn’t sure if that was comforting or disappointing.
At the door, a bouncer checked their IDs and handed them a wristband with a number. “First time?” he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.
“Yeah,” Nate said, too quickly.
The bouncer nodded, like he’d heard it a thousand times. “Bar’s to the left, playrooms are in the back. No phones, no pictures. Have fun.”
Inside, the air was warm, thick with the scent of perfume and alcohol. The lighting was low, red-tinted, and a bass-heavy song pulsed through the speakers. Tara’s eyes adjusted slowly, taking in the scene. A bar ran along one wall, where a mix of people , some in cocktail dresses, others in leather , chatted over drinks. A dance floor was half-full, bodies moving with a casual confidence Tara envied. In the corner, a couple was making out, their hands roaming with no trace of shame. Tara’s throat tightened, and she gripped Nate’s arm.
“Holy shit,” Nate muttered, his eyes wide. “This is… a lot.”
“Yeah,” Tara whispered. Her heart was hammering, but there was a spark of excitement now, cutting through the fear. This was real. They were here. She scanned the room, wondering who they’d meet, what they’d do. Her skin prickled with anticipation, and for the first time all night, she felt a flicker of power, like she could choose what happened next.
Nate leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. “You wanna get a drink first? Or just dive into the deep end?”
Tara laughed, the sound surprising her. “Drink,” she said. “Definitely a drink.”
As they moved toward the bar, Tara’s eyes kept darting to the people around them, her mind buzzing with questions. Who were these people? What did they want? And most importantly, what did she want? The night stretched out ahead, full of possibilities, and for the first time, she felt ready to find out.
Swing Shift: Part 2
Tara’s second gin and tonic was half-gone, the ice melting into a watery puddle at the bottom of the glass. She leaned against the bar, her heel tapping to the thumping music, trying to look relaxed. Nate stood beside her, nursing a beer, his eyes scanning the room like he was waiting for a jump scare. The club was louder now, the dance floor packed with bodies grinding under the red lights. Tara’s pulse hadn’t slowed since they walked in, but the alcohol was starting to blur the edges of her anxiety, making everything feel a little less like a fever dream.
“You see that guy in the cowboy hat?” Nate muttered, nodding toward a man in tight jeans and a Stetson, chatting up a woman in a sequined dress. “He’s been circling the room like he’s auditioning for a Western.”
Tara snorted, nearly choking on her drink. “Stop it. He’s probably nice.”
“Yeah, sure. Nice like a used car salesman.” Nate grinned, but his shoulders were still tense, his fingers peeling the label off his bottle. Tara knew he was trying to keep things light, to anchor them both, but she could see the wheels turning in his head. He was still waiting for this to go wrong.
She nudged him with her elbow. “You gonna stand here all night judging people, or are we actually doing this?”
He raised an eyebrow, his grin fading. “Doing this? Like, what, picking someone out of the crowd like it’s a buffet?”
“Exactly like a buffet,” she said, her voice bolder than she felt. “Come on, Nate. We didn’t drive three hours to hide at the bar.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. But I’m not making the first move. You’re the one who wanted this.”
Tara’s stomach flipped, but she nodded. She’d been stealing glances at the crowd, trying to figure out who looked approachable. Most people seemed too confident, too in their element, like they’d been coming here for years. But then she spotted a woman standing near the dance floor, alone, sipping a drink. She was maybe late thirties, with short dark hair and a simple red dress that hugged her curves. She didn’t look like she was trying too hard, which Tara liked. The woman caught Tara’s eye and smiled, a small, curious tilt of her lips. Tara’s heart skipped, and she turned back to Nate, her voice low.
“That woman over there. Red dress. She smiled at me.”
Nate followed her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Okay. So… what, you just go talk to her?”
“Yeah,” Tara said, her mouth dry. “Or we both do. Come on.”
Nate hesitated, then set his beer down. “Alright. Lead the way, boss.”
Tara took a deep breath and started across the room, her heels clicking on the floor. She felt Nate behind her, his presence steadying her even as her nerves screamed. The woman in the red dress watched them approach, her smile widening. Up close, she had a scattering of freckles across her nose and a relaxed posture that put Tara at ease.
“Hi,” Tara said, her voice louder than she meant. “I’m Tara. This is Nate.”
“Hey,” the woman said, her voice warm, with a slight Southern drawl. “I’m Lauren. First time here?”
Nate let out a short laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
Lauren grinned, her eyes crinkling. “A little. You’ve got that deer-in-headlights look. It’s cute.”
Tara felt her face heat up, but she laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in her chest. “Yeah, we’re newbies. Just… checking it out.”
Lauren nodded, taking a sip of her drink. “No pressure. This place is chill. You can do as much or as little as you want.” She paused, her gaze flicking between them. “You two together?”
“Yeah,” Nate said, his hand brushing Tara’s back. “We’re a package deal.”
“Got it,” Lauren said, her tone easy. “You want to dance? Or just talk for a bit?”
Tara glanced at Nate, who gave a small nod. “Talk,” she said. “For now.”
They moved to a quieter corner, where a low couch sat against the wall. Lauren settled in, crossing her legs, and Tara sat beside her, Nate on Tara’s other side. The conversation started slow , Lauren was a nurse, divorced, came to the club a few times a year for “fun without strings.” She was direct but not pushy, which Tara appreciated. Nate mostly listened, chiming in with dry jokes that made Lauren laugh. Tara felt a spark of pride at that , Nate was good at making people comfortable, even when he was freaking out inside.
As they talked, Tara’s eyes kept drifting to Lauren’s hands, the way they moved when she spoke, confident but not aggressive. She wondered what those hands would feel like on her skin, and the thought sent a jolt through her. She’d never been with a woman before, but the idea had always lingered in the back of her mind, a curiosity she’d never acted on. Now, sitting here, it felt possible. Real.
Lauren seemed to sense the shift in Tara’s energy. She leaned closer, her voice low. “So, what are you two looking for tonight? Just curious, or… something more?”
Tara’s throat tightened. She glanced at Nate, who was watching her, his expression a mix of nerves and trust. “Something more,” she said, her voice steady despite the pounding in her chest. “But, like… nothing crazy. Just… us, and maybe someone else. If it feels right.”
Lauren nodded, her eyes warm. “Sounds good. I’m game if you are. No rush, though. We can take it slow.”
Nate cleared his throat, his voice a little rough. “What’s slow look like?”
Lauren smiled, setting her drink down. “Maybe we head to one of the private rooms. Talk more, see where it goes. You can stop anytime.”
Tara’s heart was racing now, but it wasn’t just fear anymore. There was a heat building in her, a hunger she hadn’t felt in years. She looked at Nate, searching his face for hesitation, but he gave her a small, crooked smile. “Your call,” he said.
“Let’s do it,” Tara said, the words spilling out before she could overthink them.
Lauren led them through a hallway lined with curtained doorways, the music fading to a dull throb. Tara’s hand was sweaty in Nate’s, but she didn’t let go. The private room was small, with a king-sized bed covered in black sheets, a dim lamp casting soft light. It smelled faintly of lavender, which Tara found oddly calming. Lauren closed the curtain behind them, and the sounds of the club muffled further, leaving just the three of them.
“Okay,” Lauren said, kicking off her shoes and sitting on the bed. “Ground rules. You say stop, we stop. You want me to leave, I leave. Cool?”
“Cool,” Nate said, his voice steadier now. Tara nodded, her mouth too dry to speak.
Lauren patted the bed beside her. “Come sit. Both of you.”
Tara sat first, her dress riding up her thighs. Nate hesitated, then joined her, his knee brushing hers. Lauren reached out, her hand resting lightly on Tara’s arm. “You’re nervous,” she said, not a question.
“Yeah,” Tara admitted, laughing shakily. “Is it obvious?”
“A little,” Lauren said, her thumb tracing a slow circle on Tara’s skin. “But that’s okay. Nervous is hot. Means you’re feeling it.”
Tara’s breath hitched, and she felt Nate shift beside her, his hand finding her knee. Lauren’s touch was electric, waking up parts of Tara she’d forgotten existed. She leaned into it, her body making the decision before her brain caught up. Lauren’s hand slid up her arm, to her shoulder, then her neck, pulling her gently closer. Tara didn’t resist. Their lips met, soft at first, then firmer, Lauren’s tongue teasing hers. Tara’s head spun, her body humming with a mix of fear and want.
Nate’s hand tightened on her knee, and she broke the kiss, turning to him. His eyes were wide, his breath uneven, but there was no anger, just heat. She kissed him, hard, tasting the beer on his lips, grounding herself in the familiarity. When she pulled back, Lauren was watching them, her lips parted.
“Damn,” Lauren said, her voice low. “You two are something.”
Tara laughed, the sound raw. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Lauren grinned and reached for Nate, her hand resting on his chest. “You okay with this?” she asked, her tone serious.
Nate swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Lauren’s hand slid down his chest, to his belt, and Tara felt a surge of adrenaline. This was happening. She watched as Lauren unbuckled Nate’s belt, her movements slow, deliberate. Tara’s own hands moved to Lauren’s dress, tugging at the zipper, her fingers clumsy with nerves. Lauren helped, shrugging the dress off, revealing a black bra and panties. Tara’s breath caught , she was gorgeous, not in a magazine way, but in a real, human way, with stretch marks and a soft curve to her stomach.
Nate’s shirt was off now, his chest pale in the dim light. Tara reached for him, her hands roaming his familiar skin, anchoring herself as Lauren’s hands found her thighs, pushing her dress up. The air was thick with tension, with possibility. Tara’s fear was still there, but it was drowning in a wave of desire, of freedom. She wanted this, wanted them, wanted to let go.
As Lauren’s fingers slipped under her panties, Tara gasped, her body arching. Nate’s hands were on her now, too, unclasping her bra, his touch steady but urgent. The room felt smaller, hotter, the world narrowing to the three of them, to the sounds of their breathing, the rustle of clothes hitting the floor. Tara’s mind was a blur, but one thought cut through the haze: this was what she’d been chasing, this raw, unfiltered moment, where nothing else mattered but what she felt.
Swing Shift: Part 3
The bed creaked under their weight, the black sheets cool against Tara’s bare skin. Her dress was a crumpled heap on the floor, along with Nate’s jeans and Lauren’s underwear. The air in the private room was heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and lavender, the muffled bass from the club outside a distant pulse. Tara’s heart was a jackhammer, her body alive in a way it hadn’t been in years. Lauren’s fingers were still on her, tracing slow, deliberate paths along her inner thighs, while Nate’s hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples with a familiarity that grounded her.
Tara’s breath came in short gasps, her mind caught between panic and a wild, reckless want. She’d never felt so exposed, so seen, and it was terrifying but exhilarating, like standing at the edge of a cliff and choosing to jump. Lauren leaned in, her lips brushing Tara’s ear. “You good?” she whispered, her voice low, steady.
“Yeah,” Tara managed, her voice hoarse. “Really good.”
Lauren smiled, her hand sliding higher, finding Tara’s wetness. Tara’s hips bucked involuntarily, a soft moan escaping her lips. She felt Nate tense beside her, his grip tightening, and she reached for him, her fingers digging into his arm. “You okay?” she asked, turning to meet his eyes. They were dark, intense, but not with fear anymore , there was a hunger there, a mirror to her own.
“Fuck, yeah,” Nate said, his voice rough. He kissed her, hard, his tongue claiming her mouth, and Tara melted into it, her body humming with the dual sensations of Lauren’s touch and Nate’s need.
Lauren’s fingers moved with purpose now, slipping inside Tara, slow at first, then faster, her thumb circling Tara’s clit with a rhythm that made Tara’s vision blur. “Goddamn,” Lauren murmured, her eyes locked on Tara’s face. “You’re so responsive.”
Tara laughed, the sound shaky, almost delirious. “Is that a nurse thing? Analyzing me?”
Lauren grinned, her free hand brushing Tara’s hair back. “Maybe. But it’s also a ‘you’re fucking hot’ thing.”
Nate chuckled, the sound low in his throat, and Tara felt a surge of affection for him, for his ability to stay himself even in this surreal moment. She pulled him closer, her hand sliding down his chest, past his stomach, to his erection. He groaned as she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking slowly, matching the rhythm of Lauren’s fingers inside her. The connection between the three of them felt electric, a circuit completed, each touch amplifying the others.
“Lie back,” Lauren said, her voice gentle but firm. Tara obeyed, her head hitting the pillow, her legs spreading wider. Lauren shifted, positioning herself between Tara’s thighs, her mouth replacing her fingers. Tara’s back arched, a sharp cry escaping her as Lauren’s tongue flicked against her, precise and unrelenting. Nate moved to kneel beside her, his hands roaming her body, his eyes flicking between Tara’s face and Lauren’s head buried between her legs.
“Holy shit,” Nate muttered, his voice thick with awe. Tara reached for him again, pulling him closer, guiding him to her mouth. She took him in, her lips and tongue working in a way she knew he loved, her mind splitting between the pleasure Lauren was giving her and the power she felt giving it to Nate. His hands tangled in her hair, his breaths ragged, and she could tell he was fighting to hold back, to make this last.
The room spun, the sensations overwhelming , Lauren’s mouth, Nate’s taste, the sounds of their moans mixing with her own. Tara’s anxiety, her self-consciousness, all the what-ifs that had plagued her earlier were gone, burned away by the raw intensity of the moment. She felt free, untethered, like she’d shed a skin she hadn’t known she was wearing.
Lauren’s tongue pushed her closer to the edge, each stroke building a pressure that was almost unbearable. Tara’s hips moved on their own, chasing the release, her moans muffled around Nate. She felt him tense, his grip tightening, and she knew he was close too. “Tara,” he gasped, his voice a warning, but she didn’t stop, didn’t want to. She wanted all of it, all of them, right now.
Lauren seemed to sense it, her movements growing faster, more insistent. Tara’s body coiled tight, her breath hitching, and then it hit , a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful, ripping through her like a shockwave. She cried out, her voice raw, her body shuddering as the orgasm tore through her. Nate followed seconds later, his groan low and guttural, his release spilling into her mouth. Tara swallowed, her mind blank, her body trembling with aftershocks.
Lauren slowed, her tongue gentle now, easing Tara down. She sat back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a satisfied smile on her face. “Well, damn,” she said, her drawl thicker now. “That was fun.”
Tara laughed, the sound weak but genuine, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Nate collapsed beside her, his arm draped across her stomach, his face flushed. “Jesus,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t… I mean, wow.”
Tara turned to him, her hand finding his, their fingers interlocking. She felt a rush of gratitude for him, for his willingness to step into this with her, to trust her even when he was scared. She looked at Lauren, who was stretching lazily, her body relaxed, like this was just another Tuesday. “You’re… really good at that,” Tara said, her voice still shaky.
Lauren winked. “Practice. You’re not bad yourself.”
They lay there for a moment, the three of them catching their breath, the air settling around them. Tara’s body felt heavy, sated, but her mind was buzzing with a clarity she hadn’t expected. She’d done it , she’d stepped into the unknown, faced her fears, and come out the other side feeling… powerful. Not in a cliched, movie-star way, but in a quiet, real way. She’d chosen this, and it hadn’t broken her. It had set her free.
Lauren sat up, reaching for her dress. “You two want me to stick around, or you need some time?”
Tara glanced at Nate, who gave a small nod. “We’re good,” Tara said, her voice soft but sure. “Thanks, Lauren. Really.”
Lauren smiled, slipping her dress on. “Anytime. You two take care.” She slipped out, the curtain swaying behind her, leaving Tara and Nate alone.
They didn’t speak for a minute, just lay there, their hands still linked. Tara’s mind replayed the night , the nerves, the thrill, the release. She felt different, not changed in some dramatic way, but lighter, like she’d let go of something she’d been carrying too long.
“You okay?” Nate asked, his voice quiet.
“Yeah,” Tara said, turning to face him. “You?”
He nodded, his lips twitching into a smile. “Yeah. That was… insane. But good insane.”
She laughed, squeezing his hand. “Good insane. I like that.”
They got dressed slowly, their movements sluggish, like they were waking from a dream. The club was still alive outside, music and voices filtering through the curtain, but Tara felt done, complete. They’d come here looking for something, and they’d found it , not just the sex, but the courage to want it, to take it.
As they stepped back into the main room, the lights and sounds hit them again, but Tara didn’t feel overwhelmed anymore. She felt steady, grounded, her hand in Nate’s as they made their way to the exit. The night air was cool outside, the industrial park quiet, and Tara took a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs. She didn’t know if they’d come back here, didn’t need to decide that now. What mattered was this moment, this feeling , like she could do anything, be anything, and it wouldn’t break her. It would only make her more herself.