Menage with the Dragon Shifters by Celia Styles

Author:Celia Styles [Styles, Celia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-09-29T22:00:00+00:00

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2 Hot Guys – 2 Hot Girls – One Woman’s Pleasure - Enough Said

By Celia Styles

Once a month, Janet Cleary hosts a “Martini Morning”, where all of the bored suburban housewives get together, gossip, and drink. We tell our husbands that it’s a book club, but in reality the only book that gets discussed is Fifty Shades, mostly because it’s the only book that makes more sense the more drunk you get.

Janet’s house is the biggest in the neighborhood: the neighborhood being the suburban paradise of Wild Flower Meadows, full of nice large lush green lots, McMansions with faux-Tudor exteriors and earth-tone interiors, where the smallest car is a Nissan crossover and the status is determined by who crafts the most elaborate bento box for their child. Well, maybe not the last—after all, I wasn’t the only childless one in the group—but there was definitely a certain degree of oohing and ahhing over what you posted on Pinterest. Janet, with her pixie haircut and Julia-Roberts smile, was thankfully not into bento boxes but she did decorate her house every Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and made all of her baked goods from scratch.

On this particular morning, I was one of six other women there, sitting on the plushy soft couches of what was called the “rec room”. The ottoman held a large, clear plastic tray, which held the martini mix and vodka, in case martinis at noon wasn’t strong enough for you. Another bowl held pimento-stuffed olives, while yet another contained little pickled onions. The room was large and spacious, airy and kissed with sunlight—and despite it all I felt cramped. I’d somehow gotten stuck with Jessica Riley as a conversation partner. Jessica and I were complete, polar opposites—she was blockbuster, I was art house; she was a vegan, I liked my steaks rare and bloody. She had the body of a walking stick; my curves were the definition of "luscious". We were friendly enough—she, at least, wasn’t obnoxious about being a vegan or about her pet causes (she volunteered at the SPCA)—but having a conversation was like trying to talk to the dead.

Marley Hennig, my best friend, was across the room chatting with Gary, the only guy in the group—not gay, alas. Gary was a new stay-at-home dad who’d been invited to our group by Sarah Jacobson; we felt bad for him, mostly. Their newborn cried all night and slept all day, to hear him tell it, and indeed, the little worm-faced creature was asleep in the carrier, while Gary, wearing a five o’clock shadow the way most women wear eyeliner, seemed relieved to be having a conversation that wasn’t about diaper blowouts or spit up. Marley

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