Chapter 2: Ancient History
Synopsis: Experienced swingers Jim and Louise have succeeded in seducing a younger couple. Louise has just taken the young man into the bedroom "to talk things over."
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As I watched them leave the room, I congratulated myself yet again on my great good fortune being married to a woman like Louise. She had found Sandra at a Welcome Wagon tea for new neighbors. Their meeting was not accidental. The swinging scene in a small town is very limited, and we had been looking for an appealing couple to replace our previous swinging companions, the Johnsons, who had been transferred to his home office in Oklahoma.
Jeff and Sandra Morrison had recently moved into an apartment in our building. Louise had invited them to a Sunday brunch. After our first meeting, Louise had predicted, with that mischievous glint in her eye I knew so well, that given a suitable opportunity, or even a plausible excuse, the young couple definitely would swing. She had given them her picture test, just to make sure.
"Here they are," Louise had said triumphantly, as she returned to the living room, a sheaf of Polaroid prints in her hand. She smiled at me across the room as she resumed her seat on the couch between Sandra and Jeff. Then she handed some prints to Jeff, and the remainder to Sandra. "These are the shots we told you about, of our trip to the Zion National Monument last summer," she added.
The two slowly examined and exchanged the pictures while I studied the young couple, particularly Sandra. I saw a very young slender blonde, with carefully coifed hair, dressed in a loose print blouse and knee length plaid skirt which she carefully arranged to cover her knees. She was a quietly attractive woman with classic features and a ready, friendly smile.
Her husband, Jeff, was a big man who looked as if he might have played college football, if his slightly crooked nose and slight limp were any indicator. He, too, exuded warm friendliness. I hoped I sensed an especially warm friendliness in his part toward Louise who was acting as a tour guide and conduit through whom the pictures were passed back and forth.
Suddenly, Jeff whistled. Grinning, he handed a shot directly to his wife who glanced briefly at the image, quickly dropped it on the coffee table, and blushed a bright crimson.
I wasn't surprised. I knew Jeff had discovered a test photo, most likely a nude of Louise that she had deliberately inserted into the stack just to see how our guests would react.
"Oh, I'm very sorry," Louise said contritely. "I can't imagine how that picture got mixed in with the others." She made a half-hearted effort to recover the photo, but Jeff was too quick for her. He had scooped it off the table and was openly admiring it. Score one for him.
Unfortunately, Sandra evidently didn't share her husband's open minded attitude. She frowned at her erring husband who ignored her.
"Are there any more like this?" he asked.
It was Louise's turn to look confused. "Well, yes," she said hesitantly, "but not in that pile, I hope." She looked earnestly at the young man.
"You see, Jim and I are naturists, among other things, and we enjoy the freedom of being totally exposed to the sun and gentle summer breezes. And I'll be honest. It's always a pleasure to see beautiful bodies. The invention of Polaroid photography was a blessing for people like us."
"Is a naturist the same as a nudist, then?" Sandra asked.
I smiled inwardly. Evidently, all was not yet lost. "Yes," I said. "It's a term for a person who enjoys nature and natural things, often including nudism."
Sandra looked at her husband. "Let me see that photo again, please," she said, extending her hand.
Louise stood while Sandra studied the picture, and quietly left the room. I knew she was going after more pictures. She returned in less than a minute, holding several pictures in her left hand, and the wine decanter in her right. Jeff eagerly held his glass up for a refill. Then he reached for the new pictures.
I stood, holding my empty glass, and looked at Sandra. "They've freshened their drinks. How about you? Ready for another?"
Sandra was still flushed. She nodded. "I think I could use one," she said, her face strangely solemn.
I went into the kitchen, and poured a generous slug of bourbon over crushed ice in my glass, and a smaller quantity of Scotch and water into Sandra's. As I walked through the doorway into the living room, I heard Jeff exclaim, "Jesus Christ! Who's that?!"
Without looking, I knew that Jeff had found one of Stan (The Man) Stevens' pictures. Briefly, I wondered which one Louise had selected.
Sandra's face was a bright pink again as she gingerly accepted the photo from her husband. I glanced at it over her shoulder as I set her drink on her coaster. I was a little surprised that she would have offered this particular shot to relative strangers so early.
The picture showed two nude figures sitting on a straight chair in a paneled room. The woman was unmistakably a grinning Louise. She was perched sideways on one knee of a particularly hirsute man -- a man so covered with body hair that he seemed almost to be wearing a fur coat -- holding with both hands what appeared to be a short length of flesh colored fire hose that seemingly extended from his groin halfway to his chin. On closer examination, the fire hose, of course, became a huge erected penis.
Louise appeared flustered again. "Damn, I'm sorry," she said, "you weren't supposed to see that! But now that you have, well, I guess I'd better explain."
I listened attentively. I had seen Louise test people with that photo a dozen times, and I knew from experience that if they stayed after seeing that picture there was a good chance they would be willing to go further. The curious thing was that she invented a new explanation every time she showed it to a new couple.
Louise stared blankly at the coffee table as if gathering her thoughts. Then she looked brightly at our guests and said, "I know this is going to sound just awful, but it was a perfectly innocent bet. We were at the club. It was raining and windy outside, so we were forced to spend the day in the lounge. Some of the men, Stan here among them, were shooting pool. Several of us women were sitting in the corner talking about this and that, when Stan made a difficult shot that required him to contort his body in a way that unavoidably drew our eyes to his extraordinary equipment, which, even when it was flaccid, probably measured at least eight inches.
"One of the women wondered aloud how big it was when it was erect. Well, you know how women are. Once someone dared broach the subject, we could talk of nothing else. When the game was over and the men rejoined us, we were too embarrassed to continue the conversation, but they sensed that we had been talking about them, and began teasing us into sharing our conversation with them.
"Eventually, of course, it came out. Stan was very embarrassed of course, and was on the point of leaving when Jim, here, suggested that purely in the interest of science, I take him in the cloak room and see if I could find out."
Jeff seemed interested but Sandra was scandalized. "Tell me you didn't do that!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, but I did," Louise replied. "Believe me, it wasn't easy. In those circumstances, many men would have been totally incapacitated, and they wouldn't have had nearly the burden to lift that he did. But he came through like a trooper."
