Chapter 40: Meal Time

After hearing an explanation from Bernice, I’m a little miffed. “So… this place is a gigantic anonymous swingers meet-up?”

Bernice responds, “Mostly, yeah. There are non-swingers here but I’d wager two-thirds of the people here are looking for partners.”

“That wasn’t exactly on the website.”

“They don’t really advertise it. It’s more of an informal thing. Honestly, though, even a Google search would’ve warned you.”

I did a Google search and all I got was a load of history about the place; There was nothing about it being a fucking swinger clubhouse! If I’d known that I wouldn’t have planned a date here! It’s a little hypocritical, but nobody else is touching Laura. Fuck that.

I let out a sigh, “It’s not like we’re expected to participate or anything, right?”

She nods, “You should be fine. You might get some people acting flirty but everyone’s pretty respectful of boundaries here.”

I lean over to Laura, and whisper in her ear, “Are you alright with that?.”

“It’s fine. When she said this place was for swingers I was a little worried that… you wanted to… y’know.”

I snake my hand between her back and the chair, and place it possessively around her hips “You know I’m not the kind to share.”

I’m not happy with the revelation that we’ve stepped into a swinger-den. I’m not worried about Laura at all, as she’s a deeply loyal partner, and… well, she’s not really interested in anybody who isn’t me. I am, however, a little peeved that things are slowly sliding further and further away from the idyllic date I had planned with Laura.

Plus, Tadeas and Sofia are here! They might have info on Anna, but how the hell am I going to bring that up? I’m not even supposed to know who they are. If I just start interrogating them I might even find myself getting kicked out. Hell, maybe they’re even involved in the kidnappings, in which case bringing it up seems like an even shittier idea.

For now, I think the best option is to hold my cards close to my chest and play this slow. I’m here to have a nice night, and there’s no reason to rush things.

After the shock of this sudden revelation wears off, the conversation settles back on how each couple met each other.

Sofia gestures to Laura and me, “So, how did you two meet?”

I turn to Laura who returns my eye contact. There’s a moment of staring at each other silently debating who should answer before Laura starts. “We’re a pretty new couple actually!”

Bernice interjects, “I wouldn’ta guessed. You seem pretty comfortable with each other.”

Laura lets out a polite laugh, “It feels like we’ve known each other a lot longer than we have. He just has this… calming presence. I love it. It’s like we’re soulmates!”

Bernice gives a little nod, and Sofia chimes back in, “So, how did it all start?”

Laura takes a moment to compose herself, “I was still getting over a pretty bad breakup and it was… rough, to put it lightly. I genuinely thought my life was over, and I was in a pretty bad spot. Then, suddenly, Tim came into my life! We’d known each other before, but it was like he was a completely different person. When he stayed with me while I was at my lowest…  That’s really where it all began. I’ll never forget it. Ever.”

She grabs my hand under the table and gives it a squeeze, meaningfully looking into my eyes. Is she talking about when she tackled me and then broke down in her classroom? I didn’t know it was that big of a deal to her.

I give her hand a gentle squeeze, returning the gesture.

Their curiosity sated, Sofia and Bernice turn their attention to Miranda.

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At their questioning, Miranda responds “How we met? Well, it was quite a long time ago, and it wasn’t really a big romantic affair. We met in school, dated for a bit, then got married. There’s no ‘tea to spill,’ as the kids would say.”

Her husband tenses up at what she says but relaxes a few moments later. He didn’t seem to like that.

I get the feeling that the two of them have some problems just from the short time we’ve sat next to each other. I’m a little curious, honestly, but not enough to pry into their relationship.

That answer doesn’t seem to satisfy Sofia, who sits back in her chair, pauses contemplatively for a moment, then springs back forward, “Then just tell us any story about you two!”

Miranda curtly responds, “I don’t see how our relationship is any of your concern.”

Sofia answers, “We just want to get to know you and your husband.”

“We’re two curmudgeons who don’t very much like being cajoled into disclosing our personal life. Now we’re on the same page.”

At those words, Sofia’s mask can’t keep the incredulity on her face from showing through. Her look portrays exactly what she’s thinking. That was sooo rude!?

Honestly, it was a little rude. Sofia was prying more than she should have, but Miranda didn’t even try to be polite.

After Miranda’s brusque answer, the table falls into silence. It’s a perfect time to start in on the salad we were all served.

I reach to the right to grab my fork but run into an obstacle. There are two forks. One’s smaller and has shorter prongs, while the other is a bit larger. Is there some kind of etiquette here that I’m unfamiliar with? In my experience, a fork is a fork, so maybe they just gave me two in case I dropped one or something?

I glance at Laura who grabs her own short fork, glances at my outstretched hand hovering over my own utensils, and leans to whisper in my ear, “The short one is the salad fork.”

Well, at least one of us isn’t a troglodyte.

I grab the salad fork and start stabbing at the leafy greens in front of me. It’s a fancy Caesar salad, and to put it simply, it’s fucking delicious. I make Caesar salads fairly regularly at home because they’re quick, cheap, and we normally have the ingredients for them, and this blows those out of the water.

There’s a loud, sharp sound that pierces through the din of people talking. A short man, wearing a fitted suit and a plain white mask, as is standard for employees, is standing on the stage at the front of the room. He just rang a small bell that put out quite a bit more sound than its small size would indicate.

“Good evening partygoers, how’s the salad?” He doesn’t have a microphone, but his voice is naturally loud and resonant, carrying throughout the hall.

He waits for a few scattered people to respond with varying synonyms of “good,” then continues, “I won’t distract from your evening too much, but allow me to explain tonight’s schedule!”

To summarize what he’s saying, The live music is running a little late but will be on stage by the time entrees come out, which should be in about ten minutes. After the music starts, the fun will really begin. There’ll be dancing and intermingling as the meal winds down and the masquerade ball proper begins.

As much as I want to say tonight is gonna be smooth sailing, I don't think that's gonna be the case. I can't explain why, but I have a feeling things are gonna get pretty interesting.

 

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