Chapter Six: The Conversation
Two weeks before the party, Rider invited Leena to lunch.
He texted her at work: Free for lunch today? Want to talk about the party.
Leena hesitated. This felt like crossing a line. But it was just lunch. Just talking. Nothing wrong with that.
Sure. Where?
That Italian place downtown. 12:30?
See you there.
She told herself it was innocent. Just two friends discussing plans. But as she touched up her makeup in the bathroom mirror, she knew she was lying to herself.
Rider was already at the restaurant when she arrived, sitting at a corner table with a glass of wine. He stood when he saw her, kissing her cheek in greeting.
"You look beautiful," he said.
"Thank you." Leena sat, her heart racing. "So. The party."
"Right. The party." Rider poured her a glass of wine. "I wanted to give you a heads up about something."
"What?"
"This party is a little different from what you're used to. It's not just about pleasure—though there will be plenty of that. It's also about business."
Leena frowned. "Business?"
"I use these parties to cultivate relationships with potential clients. High-value targets. People who can help advance my career." Rider leaned forward. "And I was hoping you might help me with that."
"Help you how?"
"There's a man who'll be at the party. Ronald Chen. He's a senior executive at TechCore, and his company is looking for a new insurance provider. If I can land that contract, it would be huge for me."
"Okay..."
"Ronald is married, but he and his wife are in the lifestyle. They're looking for new experiences. New people." Rider's eyes locked on hers. "I think you could make a strong impression on him."
Leena's stomach flipped. "You want me to sleep with him."
"I want you to connect with him. Show him a good time. Make him remember this party—and by extension, remember me—when it comes time to choose an insurance provider."
"That's... that's prostitution, Rider."
"No, it's networking. It's using the resources at your disposal to achieve a goal." He reached across the table, taking her hand. "You're beautiful, Leena. Charismatic. Men are drawn to you. Why not use that to help someone you care about?"
"Someone I care about?"
"We're friends, aren't we? And friends help each other."
Leena pulled her hand away. "I don't know about this."
"Think about it. That's all I'm asking." Rider sat back. "And Leena? This is how the lifestyle works at higher levels. It's not just about pleasure. It's about power. Influence. Using sex as a tool to get what you want."
"Is that what you do? Use Hela as a tool?"
"Hela and I have an understanding. She knows what I do, and she's fine with it. More than fine—she enjoys it." Rider smiled. "And I think, deep down, you would too."
Leena didn't respond. But as they finished lunch and said goodbye, Rider's words echoed in her mind.
Using sex as a tool to get what you want.
It was wrong. Manipulative. Everything she'd been raised to believe was immoral.
But God, it was also thrilling.
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That night, Jack noticed Leena was distracted at dinner.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Fine. Just thinking about work."
"Anything you want to talk about?"
"No, it's boring stuff. You wouldn't be interested." She pushed her food around her plate. "Hey, I had lunch with Rider today."
Jack's fork clattered against his plate. "What?"
"He wanted to talk about the party. Give me some details."
"Why didn't he include me in that conversation?"
"I don't know. Maybe he thought it would be easier to talk to just one of us first?" Leena shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal, Jack. Just lunch."
"Just lunch." Jack set down his fork. "Leena, are you... are you attracted to him?"
"What? No. I mean—" She paused. "He's attractive, obviously. But I'm not attracted to him. Not like that."
"Not like what?"
"Not in a way that threatens us. You and me." She reached for his hand. "Jack, you're my husband. I love you. Rider is just... a friend. Someone we're exploring this lifestyle with. That's all."
Jack wanted to believe her. But the way she'd hesitated, the way she wouldn't quite meet his eyes—it all felt wrong.
"I don't like you meeting him alone," Jack said.
"Why not?"
"Because it feels like you're hiding something."
"I'm not hiding anything." Leena's voice took on an edge. "You're being paranoid."
"Am I? Because from where I'm sitting, you're spending a lot of time thinking about Rider. Texting him. Meeting him for lunch. And I'm starting to wonder if this whole swinging thing was ever really about us, or if it was just an excuse for you to get close to him."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?"
They stared at each other across the table, the tension thick enough to cut.
Finally, Leena stood. "I'm going to bed. We can talk about this when you're being rational."
She left, and Jack sat alone in the kitchen, his dinner growing cold, wondering if he was crazy or if his marriage was falling apart.
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By Friday night, Jack had been drinking.
Not heavily—not yet—but enough that the edges of his anxiety had softened into something darker. Something bitter.
He sat at the kitchen table, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, watching Leena prepare dinner. She moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, chopping vegetables, stirring sauce, humming softly to herself.
She looked happy. Content.
And that made Jack's stomach twist.
"You seem cheerful," he said, his voice sharper than he intended.
Leena glanced at him, her smile faltering slightly. "I'm making your favorite. Chicken marsala."
"I know." Jack took another drink. "You've been in a good mood all week."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No. Just... interesting."
Leena set down her knife and turned to face him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." Jack swirled the whiskey in his glass. "Just making an observation."
"It sounds like you're implying something."
"Am I?" He met her eyes. "You tell me."
Leena's jaw tightened. "If you have something to say, Jack, just say it."
Jack stood, refilling his glass from the bottle on the counter. "I'm just wondering if you're thinking about him. About what happened."
"We talked about this. I told you—"
"You told me you think about him sometimes. About how different it felt." Jack's voice was rising now, fueled by alcohol and frustration. "What does that mean, Leena? Different how?"
"Jack—"
"Better? Is that what you mean? That fucking Rider felt better than fucking me?"
Leena's face flushed. "That's not what I said."
"But it's what you meant." Jack laughed bitterly. "I can see it in your face. The way you've been all week. Lighter. Happier. Like you finally got what you needed."
"You're being ridiculous."
"Am I?" Jack moved closer, his eyes searching hers. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you enjoyed yourself a little too much. Like maybe our rules aren't enough for you anymore."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" Jack took another drink. "You know what I think? I think you're holding back. I think you want more but you're too afraid to admit it."
Leena's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fact that we set all these boundaries, all these rules, but maybe they're just... limiting us." Jack gestured vaguely with his glass. "Other couples don't have all these restrictions. Rider and Hela certainly don't."
"We agreed on those rules together."
"Did we? Or did I just go along with what you wanted because I was trying to save our marriage?" Jack's voice was harsh now, the alcohol loosening his tongue. "Maybe if you weren't so afraid, we could actually explore this properly."
"I'm not afraid."
"Really? Because it seems like you're terrified of admitting what you really want." Jack moved closer, his breath hot with whiskey. "You want to fuck Rider again. You want to do it without me there. You want to break every rule we made."
"Stop it."
"Why? Because I'm right?" Jack laughed. "You think I don't see it? The way you light up when his name comes up? The way you check your phone constantly, hoping he'll text?"
"You're drunk."
"I'm honest." Jack set down his glass hard enough that it cracked against the counter. "And you know what? Maybe I'm tired of pretending. Maybe I'm tired of being the boring husband who can't satisfy his wife."
Tears sprang to Leena's eyes. "That's not true."
"Isn't it? Then why do you need him? Why isn't what we have enough?"
The words hung in the air between them, sharp and cutting.
Leena's face crumpled. "Fuck you, Jack."
"That's not an answer."
"I don't owe you an answer." Leena grabbed her purse from the counter. "I'm leaving."
"Where are you going?"
"Anywhere but here." She headed for the door, her hands shaking.
"Leena—"
She left, slamming the door behind her.
Jack stood in the kitchen, alone, the sound of her car starting echoing through the house. He picked up his glass and drained it, the whiskey burning down his throat.
What the fuck had he just done?