Chapter Two #2
Gwen’s eyes went round with shock. “He’s your ex.”
“We haven’t been together since college. We’re just friends, and at least I know you’d be safe with him. Plus, I know he’s done threesomes before.”
“With you?”
“I’d tell you, but it’s probably TMI.”
Gwen stuck out her tongue.
Bailey returned the gesture, then turned to Chloe. “Want me to call him?”
Chloe hesitated. Nash was a good guy, attractive and appealing in a bad-boy kind of way.
But she’d always felt there was unfinished business between him and Bailey, something more than the simple friendship they both claimed, and the last thing she wanted to do was end up in the middle of a mess.
She glanced at Gwen, saw the oh-hell-no reflected in her friend’s wide brown eyes.
“I appreciate the thought, but it would just be too weird.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, the offer stands.”
“Maybe you should try a swingers club,” Gwen suggested. “Those places have pretty strict rules about who they let in, consent, that kind of thing.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Bailey picked up her phone. “Are there any swingers clubs in Braxton?”
“I have no idea.” Gwen scooted over to look over Bailey’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t swingers have an apostrophe?”
“No. It’s a club for people who swing, not a club that belongs to a swinger. And stop breathing on me.”
“Don’t click that, it’s a sponsored link. See, it’s in Vegas.”
“Dammit.”
Gwen made a grab for the phone. “Here, let me.”
Bailey elbowed her back. “I’m doing it.”
“You’re doing it wrong.”
Chloe rolled to her hands and knees, then planted a hand on the coffee table and pushed to her feet. “Since you two don’t need me for this, I’m going to go check out the water pressure in the shower.”
Leaving them to their bickering, she weaved her way down the hall and into the bathroom.
Bailey had packed away the tools of her trade, leaving the marble countertops clear but for the fluffy white towels and the silver basket of complimentary toiletries.
She poked through it, plucking out the little bottles of body wash and bubble bath, then turned to the tub.
Screw the shower, she was going for a swim.
She pushed the plug into the drain then turned on the taps. While the water gushed, she unscrewed the bubble bath and gave it a sniff. According to the label it smelled like orange blossoms and vanilla. “Works for me,” she decided and dumped it in.
The champagne and Kahlúa were making her head spin, so she hung onto the countertop to undress, then used the wall to guide her to the toilet room.
By the time she emptied her bladder and used the bidet—and wasn’t that a trip—the tub was already half full, a pile of fragrant bubbles floating on the water.
Since she didn’t want to drown she turned off the taps, and was just sinking into the bubbles when Bailey and Gwen came walking in.
“I thought you were going to take a shower,” Bailey accused.
“Changed my mind.” The water was hot, almost too hot to stand, and it felt amazing. “Does this bubble bath smell like orange blossoms and vanilla?”
Gwen leaned over and took a sniff. “I don’t know. What are orange blossoms supposed to smell like?”
“Beats me.” Chloe scooped up a palm full of bubbles and brought them to her nose. “I like it, though.”
“I called dibs on this tub,” Bailey reminded them.
Chloe blew the bubbles on her hand at Bailey’s scowling face. “Snooze, lose. Besides, it’s my birthday.”
Bailey swiped bubbles off her shirt. “Bitch.”
“Oh, get over it and tell her what we found.”
Chloe looked at Gwen. “What did you find?”
Gwen nudged Bailey. “Tell her.”
Bailey grumbled, then sighed. “Fine. There are no swingers clubs in Braxton, but there’s one in Kenning.”
Chloe blinked. “In Michigan?”
“About ten miles over the border,” Bailey confirmed.
“The website is pretty comprehensive,” Gwen added and started to pass over the phone.
Bailey laid a restraining hand on Gwen’s arm. “Don’t give her that while she’s in the tub.”
Chloe frowned. “I’m not going to drop it.”
“You’ve killed two e-readers in the tub,” Bailey reminded her. “And that was when you were sober.”
Gwen shoved the phone in her pocket. “You can look when you get out.”
Chloe sank deeper into the tub. “I have to drive to Michigan for my threesome?”
“Looks like it,” Bailey said, then turned her head when bells rang out. “That’s room service.”
“I’ll get it,” Gwen offered.
“I don’t want to drive to Michigan,” Chloe complained as Gwen jogged out.
“I don’t blame you.” Bailey bent to rummage in the bag of hair-styling supplies she’d left on the floor. “If you’re going to drive that far for sex, you want some kind of an orgasm guarantee.”
“What’s the farthest you’ve ever driven for sex?” Chloe asked.
“Chicago.” Coming up with a hair clip, Bailey started gathering her hair. “But that was a special occasion, and at least when the sex was over, I was in Chicago.”
“What was special about it?”
“Nash’s twenty-first birthday.” Twisting her hair on top of her head, she secured it with the clip. “He was playing in a tournament, had to sneak me into his hotel room. Good times.”
“I bet,” Chloe said, then blinked when Bailey pulled her shirt off over her head. “What are you doing?”
Bailey unhooked her bra, tossed it aside, and began to wiggle out of her jeans. “Getting naked.”
Chloe watched the jeans follow the bra. “Why are you getting naked?”
“Because I called dibs,” Bailey said and, kicking her panties off, climbed into the tub at Chloe’s feet.
Chloe could only stare. “Did you dye your pubic hair blue?”
“Uh-huh,” Bailey said. “Put your feet together so I can get my legs on the outside of yours.”
Doing as she was told, Chloe continued to stare at the triangle of blue hair. “Isn’t that dangerous? Getting those chemicals so close to your vagina?”
“Nah. It’s a special dye for pubic hair.” Bailey sank into the tub, sending water and bubbles cascading to the floor. “God, that feels good.”
“We’re getting water on the floor,” Chloe said, watching the small river snake across the tile.
“There’s a drain.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Move your feet, they’re poking my pussy,” Bailey said.
Chloe drew her knees up. “My toes aren’t going to turn blue, are they?”
Bailey snorted, making her breasts bounce in the bubbles. “No. Are you going to drive to Michigan?”
“I don’t know. Your boobs are floating.”
“They’re very buoyant.”
Chloe looked down at her chest, still submerged in the water, and frowned. “My boobs don’t float.”
“That’s because your boobs are firm. Mine are…what’s a nice word for not firm breasts?”
Chloe thought for a minute. “Squishy?”
Bailey glared. “I said nice.”
“I think squishy is nice,” Chloe protested. “I like things that are squishy. Squishy makes me happy.”
Bailey flicked her fingers over the water, sending bubbles flying at Chloe. “Stop saying squishy. Soft. My boobs are soft. Ergo, they float.”
Chloe raised her hands to her breasts, testing. Yes, they were firm, but they were also soft. “I think it’s ’cuz yours are so big and mine are so small.”
“That too.”
“Food’s here,” Gwen announced, pitching her voice over the clatter of the room service cart, then stopped dead. “What the hell is this?”
“She called dibs,” Chloe explained.
Gwen hurried to the stack of towels on the counter. “For God’s sake, there’s water all over the floor.”
“There’s a drain,” Bailey said, but Gwen was already mopping it up. “Did they bring my oysters?”
“Yes, and your club sandwich,” Gwen told Chloe and grabbed another towel. “You couldn’t have let some water out before she climbed in?”
“She didn’t exactly warn me.” Chloe reached for the room service cart only to have her hand slapped away. “Hey.”
“Don’t reach, you’ll spill more water.” Tossing the towels aside, Gwen grabbed the cart to drag it closer. “Here, this is yours.”
“Yum.” Chloe reached for a sandwich triangle and bit in. “Ouch.”
“Take the toothpick out first, genius.”
“Where are my lemons?” Bailey wanted to know. “I can’t eat oysters without lemons.”
“They’re right here, your highness.” Gwen passed over a bowl covered in plastic wrap, then sat cross-legged on the floor. “Dammit, this is still wet.”
“Just take your pants off,” Chloe suggested. “That’s what we did.”
Gwen got up, put down a towel, and sat again. “So? What’s the word?”
Chloe plucked a piece of bacon out of her sandwich. “Squishy.”
“Huh?”
“Stop saying that,” Bailey ordered. “She means what’s the word on the swingers club in Kenning.”
“Oh. I don’t know. It feels weird to drive to another state just for sex.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Gwen agreed and bit into her grilled cheese.
Bailey picked up an oyster and a lemon wedge. “It’s really too bad Hammer and Ink aren’t a possibility. Those guys are hot.”
“So hot,” Gwen agreed and dipped a French fry into the fancy little saucer of ketchup room service had provided. “I might have a threesome if it were with those two.”
“Maybe you’re not a prude after all,” Bailey said approvingly.
“Thank you,” Gwen said solemnly. “You’re still a libertine.”
“Thank you,” Bailey said, equally somber, and squeezed lemon juice over her oyster.
“Shit,” Chloe said. “I dropped my sandwich in the water.”
“Told you,” Bailey said and sucked down the oyster.