Page 61 of Once a Month

I turn around and see my kind of friends. They’re also standing there holding hands, but it makes sense for them to do it because they’re a married couple that attends these things to liven up their sex life.

“Hi,” I reply.

“Are you in line for a drink?” one of them asks.

“Oh, no,” I say, not really sure why I’m standing here at all.

“Can we–”

“Oh, sure. Yeah,” I say as I move out of their way.

“Thanks,” the other one says.

“No problem,” I say, certain I’m being very awkward right now for whatever reason.

“So, are you looking for someone new?” one of them asks.

“What?”

“I saw you checking out those two,” she says, pointing to the two women who were now walking away from the bar.

“Oh, I was just looking,” I say.

“But not touching?” the other asks.

“What?” I ask.

“They have people join them sometimes. You’re not interested?”

“I’m not here for them,” I say. “I think you know that.”

“She’s upstairs,” one of them tells me. “Waiting for you.”

“She’s here?”

“Yes. She’s in a room with the door closed; third one on the left.”

“Thank you,” I say.

They nod in unison, and I turn to leave. It’s been two months since I’ve seen her, and while I’d love for us to finally get to touch one another again, I need to know she’s okay first. I hated only sending her flowers, and I’m still not sure if signing them with my safe word was the right call. She’d just lost someone important to her, and I’m writing something like that, but I needed her to know that they were from me. Maybe that was wrong, too. I don’t know. I just hope she doesn’t hate me. More than anything, I just want her to be okay. I breeze past a couple of women fucking against a wall, and I don’t even stop to take in the sexy sight. I’m happy that the women-only event is going to continue because I do like the fact that it’s just us gals, so to speak. I arrive at the third door, double-checking that I’m at the right one, and knock twice and then again. I hope she remembers our secret knock. The door opens, and there she is.

“Hi, baby,” I say softly.

“Hi,” she says, smiling warmly at me.

I walk into her arms and pull her in for a hug. I hear the door close behind me, but I don’t pull away to look.

“Thank you for the flowers,” she says.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I reply, breathing her in.

“You didn’t have to,” she says, squeezing me tighter.

“I wanted to. I didn’t know what else to do. Your friends wouldn’t tell me much. I understand why. I just wanted to do something.”

She kisses my neck and pulls out of the hug.

“Thanks,” she says, looking at the floor.

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