The next party was in three weeks. Claire was already counting the days.
“So glad you came,” Lena purred. “The bowl is in the library.”
Mark squeezed Claire’s hand. “Last chance to bail.”
By ten, the wine had loosened everyone. The librarian—a stern woman with kind eyes—collected keys on a silver tray. Claire watched Mark drop his Porsche fob next to a Ford key, a BMW, a Volvo. The clink of metal against crystal felt like a starting pistol. Swingers Wife Swap 2 - The Key Party
Claire took the key. Then she took his hand. “Let’s go home first.”
Claire reached in without looking, her fingers closing around a cold metal shaft. She pulled it out—a simple silver key with a blue rubber grip. She held it up. Across the room, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a rugby shirt raised his glass. Tom. She’d noticed him earlier. Quiet. Married to the redhead in the black dress.
Then the men drew. Mark’s turn. He fumbled a moment, then lifted a brass key—identical to the one from their invitation. Claire felt her stomach drop. Lena Harrison’s key. The next party was in three weeks
Claire should have felt exposed. Instead, she felt seen. She unzipped her dress and let it pool at her feet. Tom’s breath caught. He didn’t move until she crossed to him and guided his hand to her hip.
They’d heard the rumors. In the upscale suburbs, behind the gated driveways and landscaped hedges, certain couples played a different game. Everyone put their car keys into a crystal bowl. The women drew first—her key meant her husband for the night. Then the men drew. No names. No faces until the bedroom door clicked shut.
The couples dispersed down separate hallways. Claire watched Mark disappear through a door that closed without a sound. “The bowl is in the library
But Claire shook her head. “We came here to play.”
Lena held the bowl. “Ladies first.”
“She picked it out.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Rachel likes to watch. Through the monitor.” He pointed to a small camera on the bookshelf, a red light glowing.
She found Mark in the main hallway, leaning against the wall, shirt untucked, looking younger than she’d seen him in years. He held out the brass key.