The party is in full swing. Well, as full swing as this kind of swinger's house party is likely to get, you think to yourself. You take another swig of your vodka and coke, and survey the room with your eyes, noticing everything, missing nothing. It is lively enough. Just the usual imbalance - as usual - of men and women. Many more single men than anyone else, prowling around, or hanging back shyly at the edges of the large main room. You clock the host, a well-dressed, attractive man who offers you a smile and a raise of his glass, to which you offer one in return.
You smile to yourself when you think about how most people perceive a 'swinging' party, how they are portrayed in films: a full on sex rave, in a gorgeous house that's packed with sexy young thangs and muscle-bound studs, with seductive happenings at every turn, in every corner, in every room... kinky suggestions being whispered into receptive ears, and hands all over other bodies, limbs interlinked, couples aroused, as others watch in the shadows.
You have done a few of these parties now, and know how to dress for the occasion. Your long, dark hair is tied back in a bun which would probably look severe if your face wasn't so pretty and your eyes large and expressive. The skirt suit you are wearing sits snug to your slim frame, yet to emphasise your femininity your bust is pushed upwards in a tiny, black push-up bra. No underwear beneath your skirt, of course. You want to be... accommodating. And, of course, you wear flats too because you are tall for a woman, and you don't want to appear intimidating, or stand out too much.
The crowd tonight is fairly conservative, though the night is still young; most people are sipping their drinks shyly and looking about nervously. Couples stay close together, talking quietly, trying to eye up interesting prospects without seeming too brash or obvious. You are certainly catching people's eyes tonight; male and female, as you move constantly amongst them, like a snake. It's always interesting to you how usually-straight women can be persuaded to... partake in some flirtation and more besides, after a few warming drinks and a bit of sensual encouragement. Of course, this often makes the husband's day too...
Just as interestingly, many more couples are also open to the idea of a second man joining their club of two, for a few hours or an entire night. You find this situation fascinating because of what happens with the balance of power. If another woman joins a couple, then generally all three will play; that may be the fantasy. Or maybe the husband likes to watch. You have two feminine energies plus one male energy. But with two men and a woman, generally (unless one man or both are bi) both men will want to dominate and penetrate the woman. Or maybe he likes to watch his woman be taken by another man. It takes all sorts, and there is a scenario for every fantasy.
You ponder these scenarios as you move about the room to refresh your drink and watch everyone interact. To many of these party-goers, of course, these sexual scenarios are hardcore. To you - they are soft-core. Especially when you think about your goal tonight; to get things 'going,' in a specialist way. You have initiated a few gentle - what they call 'soft' advances - a smile here, a flirtatious touch of an arm there - so that you can blend in and not feel like an outsider; also to start encouraging a friendly atmosphere amongst these swingers.
It works. Two of the couples, previously unknown to each other, are seeming closer and are getting touchy-feely, the women tucking their hair behind an ear and giggling lots, their men looking pleased. You make an appearance; "Can I refresh anyone's drinks?" The women both nod, looking flushed. The men are okay for drinks, you notice. You delicately take their glasses and refill from the large, colourful punch bowl on the main table. You add a few drops of a clear substance from a small bottle nestled inside your upper jacket pocket, replace it, then swill the drinks around slightly. Coming back to the party of four, you hand both women their drinks. "So, is everybody getting along okay?" you ask with a knowing smirk, to which more giggles are released and the men are beaming, looking you up and down, as well as eyeing their women.
You lean in, as you have done so many times before, and every one of them leans in slightly, conspiratorially, as you whisper loudly, "Shall we go somewhere a little more private and all get to know each other?" You take the redhead's hand and they all follow on as you wind a merry conga through the crowds, past envious faces, into the small, private room which has been especially allocated for this very purpose. The room is small and cosy and clean, everything cream, filled with large cream beanbags and with luxurious pale, silky fabrics draped everywhere. Several mood lamps are lit, as are several lava lamps, your personal favourite touch. You discreetly lock the door behind the last guy and pocket the key, as everyone collapses onto cushions, the two women together, starting to kiss, giggling, while their men happily watch. More alcohol is in this room, and so, drinks are downed, and topped up, as sensual Jimi Hendrix music is played and clothes are removed; the room is warm and seductive.
You sit between the men, and drink, and watch, as the LSD and the ecstasy that you spiked the women's drinks with begins to take hold. Soon they are tearing at each other's clothes, and mouths are beginning to find forbidden body parts, as the men watch, literally awe-struck. They couldn't wished for a better night so far, and cannot believe what they are seeing. You feel a hand on your leg, stroking lustfully... let's see what we can incite here shall we..? You think to yourself. You stand astride the husband who touched your thigh, slowly hike up your skirt to reveal your lack of panties, and lick your lips, meeting his eyes directly. He is gazing up at you, half in fear of getting into trouble, half in drunken desire. Before he can argue you take the hand that is already reaching for you, and place it against your bare moistness, gleefully grinding your hips against him. His eyes are closed and he just can't think of the consequences anymore; he is lost in sexual desire.
You can feel the other husband reaching for you also, his hands caressing your behind, and you embrace both of them, one in front, one behind...
You can hear the women getting crazed with desire for each other, and you look over your shoulder at them, making eye contact, hoping that jealousy is making its way into the equation, because that could result in a more... interesting result. You are taking both of their husbands right in front of them, and this, for them, you are reckoning, was not part of the original deal they all agreed on. The drugs are making them crazed, losing any inhibitions, and blood is now being drawn as nails drag across sweating skin. They are both howling, animal-like, clawing at each other. Thank goodness for expensive soundproofing...
Both women are into each other but now starting to watch you, watch their husbands give you pleasure without so much of a consideration towards their wives' feelings. Both men are penetrating you with fingers and tongues, and you yell out your orgasm loudly as pleasure overwhelms you.
The silence afterwards speaks volumes; both women are now stood, covered in blood over fingers and bodies and mouths. They tower over their cowering men with murderous intent. They have reacted strongly to the cocktail of drugs, as you predicted they would. You always have an instinct for who is prone to mental health issues and violent jealousy. You collect your jacket and exit the room, locking the door softly behind you. The last sight you see as you leave the room is the two women crawling across the floor towards the men...
You ponder the variety of sharp implements situated in that room, which the women have no doubt found. You ponder, also, the amount of pale fabric in that room, pale cushions, pale sheeting, pale walls; all chosen as such by the host because he likes to see blood - so much blood.