10. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Elsie
I closed my laptop around noon for lunch, and with all of our things ready to go, Marshall loaded us up in his truck shortly after to drive out to The Playground.
The resort is a beautiful structure that flows seamlessly with the Texas landscape of tall grasses and sprawling trees. Every facet of the campus was carefully thought out for the benefit of its patrons. Knowing the owners—the Morgan polycule—is all very deliberate.
The staff quickly checked us in, and soon enough, we are entering the rooms I had booked for Marshall and me.
As you enter the top-floor suite, you pass a small kitchen with all the amenities you would need to stay for long periods of time, as some people do. The room then opens to plush couches placed in a U shape in front of a massive television screen. Beyond the media area is a balcony looking out across the whole resort, including the club, which is situated directly across from us.
Knowing I wasn’t quite ready for the intimacy that comes with sharing a bed, I booked us a suite with two bedrooms, each with California king beds. The suites are intended for guests with larger groups like those in polycules, but I thought it was necessary for us to have separate sleeping accommodations.
When I finished work today, I was too tired to think, much less pack a bag.
Pregnancy is a bitch on your energy levels like that.
So, I was so glad that, at the time, Marshall already did everything for me, but I’m now severely regretting that decision.
“Marshall!” I yell from the primary bedroom of our suite.
“What! What?” He asks frantically as he enters the bedroom.
I’m frowning in front of the suitcase he packed for me.
“What in the hell did you pack?” I snap.
“What are you talking about?” He says, stopping in his tracks in the doorway.
“Marshall,” I growl. “There’s nothing here but skimpy lingerie and bikini bathing suits!”
“I’m failing to see the problem here.” He questions, looking around at the items I’ve pulled out of the bag.
“The problem is I’m fat, Marshall. I can’t wear any of this!” I say, frustrated beyond measure. “Where did you even find this stuff?”
I love my fat body, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have insecurities or that I don’t dress to my level of comfort, even in body-positive spaces like the club .
“First off, your body is fucking incredible, and I don’t want you ever talking negatively about it like that again.” He says with a slight growl in his voice.
“Fat isn’t a bad word, Marshall. It’s just an accurate description of my body.” I say a little too curtly. “I’m not using it to talk down about myself. I’m reclaiming the word. Got it?”
“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.” He grumbles before getting back to my original question. “Second. Some came from your closet, but I went out and got the rest because I couldn’t find anything that worked for the club.”
I groan, holding up a sheer, stretchy mesh bodycon dress with rhinestones. “And you didn’t bother to ask where I keep all my club wear in the apartment?”
“I was just trying to be helpful.” He says before taking the dress from me and setting it back on the bed. He takes my hand and stroking the inside of my wrist. “And you’re going to look fucking incredible in all of it.”
I take in a deep breath, unprepared for the fire of desire in his eyes.
But this is my fault, after all.
I should know better than to depend on other people for anything.
Including something as simple as packing a suitcase.
“It was very sweet of you to pack everything for me this morning.” I sigh, knowing he was only trying to help. “It’s on me for not checking to see what you packed before we left.”
He sits down on the only empty portion of the bed, then curls our fingers together before tugging me between his legs.
“I’m sorry.” He says softly .
“Goddess. You’re too hard to stay mad at when you look at me like that.” I say when I look up at him. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just... not used to dressing like this.”
He looks around at the bikinis, lingerie, and dresses I’ve thrown out on the bed as though trying to find a solution to the problem he created.
“Do you not like them?” He asks, giving my hand a squeeze.
“They’re pretty,” I say slowly. “I just don’t normally wear such revealing or form-fitting clothes when I come out here.”
“Isn’t that kind of the point?”
I shrug. “For some people, probably.”
He hesitates. “Elsie, why do you come to the club?”
“What?” I ask, not sure where he’s going with this.
“Why do you come to The Playground? Why’d you start coming last year?” He asks, more confident in his question now.
I start to pull back but soften when he shifts his hold on my hand to rub small circles on my inner wrist.
Thinking it through, I try to decide how honest I want to be with him.
Do I tell him everything?
After a moment, I figure the man is going to be around for the next eighteen years for this kid. He might as well know how fucked up I am.
“My father and I went no-contact four years ago.” I start.
“The club only opened three years ago, though.” He questions.
“If you would let me finish…” I say impatiently.
“I dove into work when I stopped talking to him. He’s really the only family I have—my mom was gone shortly after I was born.” I say.
“Elsie, I’m so sorry.” He says, true sadness in his eyes.
“It’s okay. I’ve had a long time to adjust to that loss.” I shrug. “But Father was different. He was always working his agenda. We never had a good relationship, but it was nice to have someone . You know?”
He nods but doesn’t interrupt me again.
“I kind of lost it after a while and threw myself into dating, thinking that I could just replace the emptiness with someone else rather than dealing with my issues.” I continue. “One of the girls I dated for a while invited me to an event downtown. It was one of the brunches that happens every month.”
I think back to how out of place I felt at first when I was there, but how everything changed when I started talking to people.
It wasn’t like my work relationships, where everyone wanted something from you. It all felt genuine. People were actually interested in me as a person.
“I didn’t know it was a lifestyle event. I didn’t even know what the lifestyle was then, but everyone kept talking about this club that just opened up.”
I pull away, taking each of the garments I’d thrown onto the bed, and begin folding them to go back into the packing cubes Marshall put everything in.
“It sounded almost magical. A place where I was free from judgment. Some place where I could let go and not worry about what others thought of me or my interests.”
“You wanted the freedom.” He adds.
I turn to him, remembering the lightness I felt the first time I walked into the club. “Yes. I wanted the weight off my shoulders for once.”
“Did you find it? ”
“Kind of? I came as a lurker for the longest time.” She looks at me with a smirk on her face. “I found Selene and Bex and the rest of the group a year ago, but actually, I’d been going to the club as a patron for a little over two years.”
“Really?” He says, genuinely shocked.
“Yeah. For the longest time, I would come and grab a soda at the bar and watch.” I shrug, pulling out my toiletries and unzipping the bag. “I just wanted to see what it was like... and for a little bit, I got to let go and lose myself in the club atmosphere and the energy of everyone around me.”
“So, what brought you into the group?” He asks.
“Selene.” I smile. “She found me in a corner watching a scene between Alvie and Bex. Next thing I know, I’m being tied in a rope harness.”
I can’t help but notice how Marshall shifts at the mention of me tied up and how he blocks off my body so I can’t see but instead can feel his hard cock.
“I spent the rest of the night with the group and then just never really left. Finding the group felt like… Well, I found my community, my people, with them.” I shrug before reaching to move the suitcase off the bed, but he immediately pushes my hands aside.
“Tell me where you want it,” he says, and I point to the bench across from the bed.
“I can do things on my own, you know,” I say quietly.
“You shouldn’t have to.” He smirks, placing the nearly empty suitcase down and turning around to face me. “You’re a princess, remember?”
A laugh escapes from my lips, and his grin only grows at the sound.
“No.” I remind him. “I’m a fucking queen.”