Page 6 of The Swap Masquerade

They looked at each other and I could feel their excitement. “Would you like to tell him, or do you want me to?”

“You do it.” They turned to me, matching smiles tugging at their lips.

Curtis was practically jumping up and down as he announced, “We’re having a baby!”

“What? How? When?” I didn’t even bother to wait for a response. I threw my arms around both of them, not stopping to think what it might look like to see three grown men hugging in a parking lot. Let people think whatever they wanted; I didn’t care. They had been talking about wanting kids for as long as I could remember, and I was unbelievably happy that it was finally going to happen for them.

John chuckled as we pulled apart, but I saw him swipe a few tears from his eyes. Curtis was beaming as he explained. “The adoption agency set us up with a nineteen-year-old girl who’s five months pregnant. She’s decided to sign over the rights to her baby once it’s born, but she wants to have a say in who the baby goes to.”

“We emailed back and forth with her a few times and talked on the phone twice. She’s really sweet and seems like a smart girl, she simply got in over her head. But she knows she isn’t in a position to take care of this baby and so she wants it to go to a loving home,” John added.

“The agency called this morning and confirmed that she wants us to have her baby. We’re going to meet her in person next week and if everything goes well, we’ll have a new little addition to our family soon.”

John wrapped a sturdy arm around his husband. “It’ll go well. I have no doubts. Besides, the agent told us this was just a formality. It’s already done, but they have to make sure they’ve dotted all their I’s and crossed all their T’s.”

“He’s right. You guys are amazing, and this baby will be so lucky to have you both as their parents. Plus, they will have me, and I plan on being the best uncle in the entire world. This kid is going to be so spoiled, the only thing we’ll have to worry about is not turning it into a brat.”

We talked for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. I was smiling as I drove home, thinking about everything they’d told me and praying the adoption process went smoothly. The closer I got to my townhouse, however, the more my smile began to fade.

I was deliriously happy for my friends. They deserved this and so much more, but I couldn’t help but compare their lives to my own. Sure, I found my work fulfilling, but beyond that, what did I have? John and Curtis had careers they loved too, but they also had each other to come home to at the end of the day. They had someone that loved them and together, they were building a family, a future.

I slowed down as I pulled into my subdivision. It was a fairly new development with new homes being built all the time. The houses all tended to look alike, but it was a nice, safe neighborhood. The type of neighborhood where casseroles were delivered when someone moved in and neighbors waved to one another as they were out mowing their lawns.

After living in a shoebox sized apartment all through college and then again when I got my first job, I was thrilled when I was finally able to buy my own house. I chose a new home that didn’t require much in the way of repairs, but sometimes, I regretted not buying more of a fixer upper. I enjoyed working with my hands and had learned a lot of useful skills through my volunteer work at Habitat.

Given the late hour, I wasn’t surprised to see that most of the houses I passed already had their lights turned off. The street was quiet as I pulled into my driveway and walked inside. I flipped on the light and dropped my keys in the bowl by the door then headed straight to my study. I wanted to check my emails before going to bed to make sure none of the organization directors needed to cancel or change their appointments with me the next day.

I sat down at my desk with a sigh and logged onto my computer. After confirming that there was nothing that needed my immediate attention on my work email, I switched accounts, logging into my personal email. I hadn’t checked it in a day or two and already, I had around two hundred and fifty unopened messages waiting for me. “Spam, spam, spam,” I mumbled to myself as I scrolled through the list. Nothing but junk. I was getting ready to hit delete all when something captured my attention. I held my breath as I clicked on the email and it opened across my screen.

My pulse raced as I read over the words. I’d first learned about swap parties when I’d joined an online chat group for single gay men. I’d been surprised how many of them were in similar situations to mine, where—for various reasons—they were unable to be completely open about their sexuality. One day, someone posted in the group asking for ideas on how to meet other gay men outside of the usual nightclubs and hookup apps. A man commented that he liked attending local swap parties because of the discretion involved and the freedom to explore a variety of pleasures.

I had no idea what a swap party was, but I was intrigued by his description. I immediately googled swap parties, but the only thing I found was clothing or food swaps. Something told me that wasn’t what he’d been talking about, so I decided to message him privately. Thankfully, he was happy to talk with me.

He told me swap parties were held all around the world, in nearly every town and city. However, people rarely talked about them because no one was allowed to discuss who they’d seen there. Exposing other participants was grounds for permanent removal from the invitation list. According to him, each party was different, depending on who was hosting. Some guest lists included both men and women, catering to straight or bisexually oriented people while others were specifically for other groups in the rainbow.

I listened intently as he went on to explain how it worked. By the time he’d finished describing some of the things he’d seen and actually participated in at the parties he’d attended, I was rock hard and ready to sign up.

With the information he’d provided, I did a bit of digging and was able to find a swap community in my own area. I was still a bit nervous about anyone being there who might recognize me. If the college frowned on having an openly gay professor, they certainly wouldn’t like knowing I was going to wild gay sex parties where anything goes was written plainly on the invitation. Discovering I had the option of attending swap masquerade parties was like an answer to my prayers and two weeks later, I attended my first party.

Just as the guy from my group had described, everything was handled with the utmost discretion, but having the added security of wearing a mask, made the experience even better. There, I was free to do whatever I wanted without fear of repercussion. It was freeing in a way that no random back-alley hookup or quick blowjob in a nightclub bathroom stall would ever be.

I had frequented the parties often at first, scratching an itch that had been living inside me for years. I’d had fun trying things I’d never even dreamed of before and exploring those things I hadn’t been bold enough to try with any of my partners when I was in college.

Over the past couple of years, however, my workload started to expand. Instead of teaching three classes a week each semester, I’d begun teaching four, plus a few summer courses. This year had gotten even busier with the dean adding two more classes to my list.

I loved my job, but sometimes it felt like that’s all I did anymore. Other than an occasional night out with Curtis and John, and the volunteer work I did, I never went out. My only other friends were fellow professors who had spouses and lives of their own. My days had become routine. Work, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat.

My thoughts turned once again to my two best friends and how happy they were to be adopting a little baby. Their lives were moving forward while mine seemed to be stuck in a rut. I looked at my computer screen, reading over the invitation again. It had been several months since I’d attended a swap masquerade. Months since I’d felt the touch of another man, the warmth of another person’s skin against mine. Loneliness surged through me with a swiftness that took my breath away. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to carve out a little time for myself. The more I thought about it, the more I realized, a swap party might be exactly what I needed.

Chapter 3

ELLIOTT

I pulled my car into the driveway of my parents’ home and killed the engine but didn’t bother to get out right away. My head dropped back against the headrest and I closed my eyes. It had been a long week and I was exhausted. Baseball conditioning was always brutal, but that combined with a full schedule of classes had been enough to kick my butt.

Three more months and it would all be over, I reminded myself. Three months and it would no longer matter what the rest of the team thought of me. Three months and I could finally be honest about who I was while saying to hell with the rest of the world. In theory, it seemed simple enough, but as I opened my eyes and stared at the two-story brick home I’d grown up in, I knew it would be much more complicated than that. With a sigh, I climbed out of my car and made my way up the driveway.

Movement to the side of the house caught my eye and I smiled as I saw my mom. She was dressed in an old pair of denim overalls with a faded pink t-shirt underneath. A large, wide-brimmed straw hat was perched on top of her head and she wore a funky pair of sunglasses that took up half of her face. I turned and headed in that direction. On her knees with her hands in the dirt, she didn’t notice me until I was almost right next to her.

---