Filthy Sluts Read online

  The interior of Trinity Christian Fellowship rang with the voices of happy people. The atmosphere was electric with faith and joy.

  Minutes later, with the blessing of Pastor Truscott, the doors were opened. People, smiling and laughing, began to file out. Some went the other way to talk to the assistant pastors and request prayers.

  Chris Redenbaugh, smiling despite his usual frowning legal demeanor, clapped a hand on my husband’s shoulder. Normally, he wore an expression that suggested everything was a legal issue to him and he was weighing aspects of legality. In this case, at this moment, he was absent the lawyer look. “Hey Tommy…”

  My husband shook his hand and clasped his shoulder. “Chris. I understand our wives are getting close?”

  Chris lifted his eyebrows and dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “I hope Gwen isn’t a bad influence.”

  I fretted that he might hint at more or even reveal a truth I wanted hidden.

  My husband winked at Gwen and said to Chris, “I’m glad. Andrea needs it. I’m really a stay at home type. This,” he indicated the church around him, “is as much as I get out.”

  Chris deadpanned with gravity, “I hear ya. Same here, same here. I spend enough time in court to want to just curl into a ball at home all weekend.”

  Gwen burst out laughing. “You in a ball? Right.”

  “Yeah, not really, but I do like staying home. Unless it’s a vacation, I’ve got enough to do around the house.” His expression deepened at my husband. “You, uh, work appliances, right?”

  “Five days a week.” Tommy’s expression was guarded. “You got something that needs looking at?”

  I knew he hated working weekends, but if he was offering, then he must like Chris enough to make the opening.

  “I do, actually. I’m sure it’s nothing. Our water heater isn’t really heating the water like it used to.”

  “How old is it?”

  “I don’t know,” he looked at Gwen, “fifteen years?”

  Tommy grunted. “Gas?”

  “Yes.”

  “Probably at the end of its life, but…”

  “Yes?”

  We were walking to the door.

  My husband asked, “Do you ever drain it?”

  Chris looked confused. “Drain it?”

  Tommy nodded to himself. “I could take a look at it for you. It might just need to be drained. They get all built-up inside with sediment.”

  “Huh…”

  “We can come over now if you want?”

  Chris brightened. “Sure! We can make a little party of it. It doesn’t take long, does it?”

  My husband shook his head. “Nah, ten, fifteen minutes, maybe.”

  “Awesome. I’ll put some steaks on the barbecue.”

  My husband smiled. “Sounds like a deal.”

  I saw Branden talking to Joel. I hid my face.

  Gwen waved at them brightly.

  Oh god.

  They didn’t come over to us and we escaped outside.

  Their house was so sparse that I felt an emptiness inside of it. With him being a lawyer, their furniture was nice. With her being a cosmetologist at the morgue, I felt the absence of cheer. The house was clean, neat, and spare. No extra knick-knacks cluttered the place anywhere. The walls were conspicuous with the absence of family pictures. There was no area immediately identifiable as the place where they met together: no worn easy chair; no soft spot on the couch; no entertainment detritus lying within reach.

  When Gwen said she liked to get out, I understood it now. She obviously didn’t like spending any time here other than cleaning it or sleeping.

  While the men went into the garage to work their masculine magic with the water heater, I sat with Gwen out back and watched the barbecue.

  She said, “I hate it here.”

  Alarmed, I asked, “Are you and Chris—”

  She slapped a hand to her mouth. Her blue eyes were large and her freckles and frizzy hair made her look adorably comical. “Oh no! No. I didn’t mean it that way. I absolutely adore my husband.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “Except when he’s talking law. Gosh, everything has to be a contract or an agreement. No, I meant that I hate sitting at home. I mean, it’s all right and stuff, but I’d much rather be dancing.”

  “And Chris is all right with what you do? I mean, he knows everything? Like Branden?”

  She waved a hand. “Oh yeah, I told him. He loved it. He especially loved what I did for you.”

  “At least one husband does.” I pouted.

  Gwen leaned forward on the patio chair. “Tommy doesn’t? What happened?”

  “Well, I don’t know that he does or doesn’t. I didn’t tell him. Well, I didn’t tell him everything. I just told him I got kissed.”

  “Huh…” She studied me for a moment. “And you feel bad keeping secrets?”

  I nodded with resolution.

  “I understand. I mean, I think I do. I was always open with Chris.” She tapped her finger on the arm of her chair. “How did he take the kissing thing?”

  “At first it seemed like he was going to be mad, but when I told him you kissed me first and Branden forced a kiss on me after, he seemed to relax.”

  “Hmmph.”

  “I had told him you liked to dance and he didn’t seem to have too much of a problem with me dancing…”

  “No?”

  “I just don’t want to go on without telling him—”

  “Well, you have to tell him.”

  I shook my head. “Not with Tommy. I know him.”

  “Sure, but tell him in the right way. Ease him into it. No one just jumps into… headfirst.”

  Jumps into what? I must have looked confused.

  She asked, “Have you liked our two get-togethers?”

  I pursed my lips and looked down. But I nodded.

  Gwen was silent for a long time. I risked a look and found her smiling at me, her eyes sparkling with inner thought. She said, “Okay, then, I have a plan.”

  “What?”

  “Just follow my lead when the time comes.”

  “Follow your lead?”

  She laughed. “Just act natural. Be yourself. I’m certain you’ll say exactly the right thing.”

  I frowned at her. Was she making fun of me?

  The men came out a little later and hovered over the barbecue. Chris said, “Looks ready.”

  Tommy grunted, “Need help?”

  “Nah, I’ll be right out with the meat. Tri-tip okay?”

  “Yeah, great.”

  “Thanks for the water heater.”

  “Yeah, not a problem.” Tommy watched him enter the house and then sat next to me.

  Gwen clapped her hands together. “Andrea…?”

  “Hmm?”

  “There’s a dance club I’ve been wanting to try but haven’t had the courage to try alone. Want to go Friday night?”

  I was caught off guard. “I… uh… I don’t know, I’d have to ask…” My eyes shifted to my husband with all the uncertainty I felt.

  Gwen sparkled at him. “Your husband? What do you think, Tommy. Do you think your wife could chaperone me dancing?”

  He cleared his throat, a little stiff. “Yeah, I think she could.”

  I was at a loss for words.

  Gwen dove right ahead. “You don’t mind her dancing, do you? I mean, are you the clingy jealous type?”

  I paled.

  Tommy said defensively, “No, I don’t think I am, no.”

  “So she can come with me?”

  He pulled his head back in consideration. “I don’t see why not…”

  She clapped her hands together again. Then she got up, leaned over to him and pecked his cheek. “You’re so sweet.”

  My husband blushed and looked at me with a quick flick of his eyes. “Aw, it’s no big deal; you’re good for her.”

  “Andrea, we’ll have to talk about dresses.”

  I blinked, still stunned at how easily she had
maneuvered my husband.

  But she wasn’t done.

  Not by a long shot.

  CHAPTER 10

  I let Dan take me to lunch Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. After the initial lunch date, he didn’t dwell on Star Trek any more – having said all he could about it.

  I liked Star Trek; but I really loved Star Wars. When I told him that, it sort of ended all of the sci-fi talk when he muttered about how he hated what Disney was doing to the franchise.

  Oh well, can’t please everyone.

  I asked him Friday, “Have you told your wife about our lunches?”

  His eyes got large for a second. “No… I don’t think she’d understand that we’re just friends.”

  “Jealous type, huh?”

  “Yes, but she goes out to places with her guy friends.”

  “She has guy friends?”

  “Yeah, you know, friend-zone gay guys?”

  I joked, “Are you sure they’re gay?”

  He frowned, not getting it. Or rather, taking me too seriously. “Well, I don’t know. She says they’re gay.”

  I don’t think I left him feeling very good about it.

  At home, I dressed as Gwen had instructed. It was my best dress, but we had secretly bought another. She rang the doorbell right about when she said she would.

  I let Tommy answer the door, pretending to be busy with make-up. I walked out a second later to a stunned husband, mouth agape, and at a loss for words.

  Gwen stood there, fist on cocked hip, dressed in a flimsy minidress that had slashes all up the sides. It was obvious from the slashes that she could not be wearing bra or panties. She held up a box balanced on her palm.

  She shook her head at me. “No, no, no. I knew you would dress like an old maid. The Strobelight would probably turn you away at the door. I took the liberty of buying you a dress. Here.”

  Tommy gulped and backed up. He fidgeted and kept glancing at her dress.

  Gwen leaned over to him. “If she dresses like that, we’ll get laughed out of the place. I bought her something a little more… Well, not like this!” She indicated her dress. “But maybe better for her.”

  I said, “Um…”

  Tommy cleared his throat. “Well, go try it on, whatever it is.” He pulled at his collar.

  Gwen clapped her hands, bounced on the balls of her feet, and kissed my husband on the cheek.

  Tommy blushed.

  I took the box and dressed in the bedroom. It was a perfect fit, of course, because I had already tried it on. I came out and looked sheepishly at my husband. It was a short dance dress that came to mid-thigh. It had a very deep plunging neckline that went almost down to my belly button, but kept everything securely covered.

  It was definitely more demure than Gwen’s dress, but far more risqué than anything Tommy would expect me to wear. That was the plan.

  And it worked.

  My husband almost sighed with relief that I didn’t have slashes and that my hemline wasn’t dangerously close to exposing anything. Neither were my boobs in any danger of swaying out of my dress – the material was close and broad enough to keep them firmly in place. He nodded at me, although his eyebrows rose and his expression took on a look of amazement.

  He said, “I wish I liked to dance…”

  Gwen giggled. “You could always learn.”

  Instantly, he was shaking his head as if he had taken a squirt of lemon juice up his nose. “Nah, not me. No way.” He patted his torso. “I’m a little bigger than I used to be. You two go have a little fun.” He gave me a kiss on the lips and glanced down at my dress with another dazed expression.

  Then we were on our way.

  I said to her in the car, “I need to take lessons from you.”

  “You already are. Men are so easy to handle.”

  I laughed. “Not my Tommy. He’s very difficult to budge and he often doesn’t care if his ideas hurt anyone else.”

  “Pshh, easy. Just like we did there.”

  I looked at her dubiously. “You could get him to unload the dishwasher?”

  She made big eyes at me and pressed her lips together comically. “Mm hmm.”

  I shook my head.

  She elaborated. “Look, men are bull-headed—”

  “Ha, you got that right.”

  “They don’t listen to reason. Well, they don’t listen to feminine reason. They have a masculine prejudice that precludes any kind of real reason. So you have to control them through their most easily controlled aspect.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Sex, of course. You control him through his dick. That’s really all it takes.”

  I laughed.

  She gave me a pointed look with a raised eyebrow.

  My laughter faltered and I went silent. Certainly, she had artfully and effortlessly controlled my husband at the door, turning a rejection of my dress into approval. If he had seen my dress first, he would have rejected it and then dug in his heels to buttress his masculine pride.

  Gwen had turned all that right around on him. I had to admit, she had been right, and I marveled at the possibilities of control.

  The Strobelight was a loud place. Housed in a blocky building that was insulated enough to drown the music to a dull thump on the outside, it was a cacophony of loud voices competing over the too-loud music. We had to yell at each other to be heard.

  I wasn’t impressed.

  Almost immediately, we were accosted by two men and I gave Gwen a hard look that accused her of tricking me. I had thought we were coming to dance. Instead, we were met by none other than Branden and Joel from church. Branden took Gwen’s arm. Joel pecked my cheek.

  I glared at her.

  Gwen noticed and expertly shifted everything around my irritation. She yelled to the guys, “Can we start off with some drinks?” She grabbed my arm. “Andrea and I need to use the restroom first. Where should we meet you?”

  Joel was the more direct of the two. He pointed behind him to a bank of tables set above the dance floor. “We’ll grab one of those empties.”

  Gwen smiled and bounced, then hauled me away. In the relative lesser crescendo of noise in the hallway of the restrooms, she said, “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought we were here to dance?”

  “We are. And so are Joel and Branden.”

  “You didn’t tell me we were meeting them.”

  She sniffed, and it was drowned out in the noise. “Look, Andrea, you never know what you’re going to get. It’s dangerous for a girl with a strange guy. He could be a murderer or someone who beats and tortures women. Or they could be nice but have diseases. We don’t want any of that.”

  I lifted my eyebrows in consideration. “Right, right.”

  “So we dance and mingle with people we know. I knew Joel circulates with the right guys, which is why Branden has been added to… my little circle.”

  “So you wouldn’t have blown him in the parking lot if he was a total stranger?”

  “Hell no.”

  I nodded quietly.

  “Come on, let’s go out there and dance.”

  I had thought we were going to just dance with whoever asked, but this seemed… better. Safer. I had to admit, Gwen was looking out for us. I grabbed her arm on the way to the table. “So you’ve done things with Joel before?”

  She nodded and leaned into my ear. “He’s one of several guys at the church, and some gals, too, that I hang around with.”

  On the one hand, that made me feel better. On the other, more self-conscious.

  She poked me. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit right in.”

  “Me?”

  “Being a hotwife is much more fun.”

  I wasn’t so sure, but I could not deny the allure of what we had done so far. Despite my guilt and uncertainty, I had liked it all. My sex life with Tommy had vastly improved over the past week – we had done it four times where we usually did it once a week.

  Excitement and possibilities burgeoned in me in ways
I had never felt before.

  Whether or not Gwen could read my mind, she added before we reached the table, “Let go, Andrea. Fly free as the woman you could be.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The dancing had been fun. I sat beside Joel in his car on the way to his place and watched the lights pass by.

  I felt a little embarrassed that the night had went by so cleanly but that we were now driving to his place for maybe… other activities.

  Was I ready for this? More kissing? Or even… sucking? How would I handle it? Could I do it? Or could I stop him?

  I noticed him studying me while driving. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Just wondering about you.”

  “Like what?” Our voices seemed too loud and harsh outside of the dance club, despite our reserved tones.

  “I’ve seen you and your husband at church…”

  “Right?”

  “You’re aware some of us are into a more liberated lifestyle?”

  I fidgeted with my fingers. “I’ve heard things…”

  “And you’re friends with Gwen. She doesn’t just befriend anybody.”

  “Are you saying she chose me?” Like I didn’t have anything to do with it?

  “In a way, sure. But you’re the first new one she has brought to the circle.”

  “The circle? Sounds ominous.”

  He laughed. “No, not like we wear capes and cowls. I just mean our circle of friends within the church. People who think like we do.”

  “Which is?”

  “That love can be polyamorous like it was in the Bible.”

  “Men should only be married to one woman—”

  He was shaking his head. “No, no, no it’s not in there. You’re thinking of Paul’s suggestion that bishops of the church should only be married to one woman. Are you a bishop?”

  “No…”

  “It’s hard to break the traditions you’ve been taught, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve all been there.”

  “What about my husband?”

  “Ideally, he should be included and aware. Consent is the cornerstone of being guilt-free. How much does he know?”

  “Only that I’m out dancing and that Gwen is a little wild.”

  He pursed his lips. “At some point soon, you need to get with him on this.”