A Taste of A Life Less Monogamous – Chapter 17

A Taste of A Life Less Monogamous – Chapter 17

Welcome to A Life Less Monogamous, the first novel in my Books of the Swingularity series (behind the recently released Approaching the Swingularity). We're releasing the first 20 chapters both in print (below) and in audiobook form (above), read by myself and Kat Stark. Enjoy these chapters however feels right to you! Read a chapter per day, read them all at once, mainline the audiobook, support this humble author by picking up a copy of the book. Whatever rocks your world. No matter how you read it, I appreciate your eyes and hope you share A Life Less Monogamous with others! You can find other chapters from the book here.

Chapter 17

The pile of clothes on the bed intimidated Jennifer. They were all decent options, so she couldn’t rightly say that she had nothing to wear, but she certainly felt that way. Ryan changed his shirt for the fourth time, this one midnight blue.

“Is this okay?” he asked her.

She didn’t give it more than a glance. “It’s fine.”

Jennifer disappeared back into her closet, sliding a blouse, a dress, a shirt, down the rack. Why hadn’t she ever organized in here? Every year she made a deal with herself that she’d only buy more clothes if she organized, or donated the ones she wasn’t wearing. She saw a few of those “not wearing” offenders at the back and pulled them down, looking around for a box to stuff them into, finally start the donation pile.

She stopped. “What the hell am I doing?” she exclaimed to herself, tossing the donation possibilities on the floor in the back corner of the closet.

“You’re getting ready for a date,” Ryan offered from outside the closet.

Jennifer sat on the closet floor. I’m getting ready for a date, she thought. A date with swingers, a date with the intention of learning about swinging, a date with the intention of maybe having sex with other people, a date with her husband and other people. She realized she hadn’t taken a breath since she sat down and gasped, grabbing for the dresser at the back of the closet.

“How about this one?” Ryan appeared in the door, now wearing a charcoal button down. He’d also redone his hair, back instead of to the side. When he noticed her on the floor he rushed to her. “Are you okay?” He knelt in front of her, between her legs.

“Yeah,” she said, “Overwhelmed.”

He took her hand. “Me too.”

“You look good.”


She gave him a once-over and smiled. He did look good. His wardrobe for non-formal things was decidedly business casual, but emphasized the business. His dark slacks went well with the shirt. “Very nice. Sexy.”

“Sexy.” He grinned. “Really?”

“Definitely.” She looked, distraught, at her two racks full of clothes. “Will you please help me?”

He glanced at the clothes, too. “Of course. What do you need?”

“I’ve got nothing. It’s like I’ve forgotten what’s sexy.”

“You haven’t forgotten what’s sexy, you looked sexy at the party!”

Jennifer smiled, a warm and fuzzy feeling descending on her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, and Bruce must’ve thought so too.”

The warm fuzziness became a pulse, and she knew she’d better keep looking before she got distracted by other things.

“How about this?” he asked, pulling a red sweater dress off the rack.

Jennifer went pffft!

“Well, I’m sorry, okay.” He replaced it and slid his fingers down her hanging clothes, stopping on one toward the back. “This?”

She looked at it. She’d be cold for sure, the material was thin, a jersey knit. But that made it soft. The scoop neck was also a plus, since she fully intended to get some mileage out of that old push-up bra that she’d been saving for…well, she wasn’t sure what she’d been saving it for. Simple black, so she could go with anything on her legs. Ryan loved her in tights.

“Sold,” she said.

Ryan looked surprised. He laughed. “Really?”

“What color tights?” She yanked off her t-shirt and kicked off her yoga pants. Ryan stared. “Ryan?” She smiled and ran her index finger over her left nipple. “Please focus,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Or what about the thigh-high socks?”

“Yes,” he said, “Purple. The striped ones.”

She stepped closer to him, pressing her breasts against his shirt. She reached into the top drawer of her dresser and grabbed the woolen purple and black-striped socks he liked so much. “I’m going to look young in these,” she pointed out.

“You’re going to look sexy in those,” he countered, his hand finding the cleft where her legs met. She rapidly drew a breath and he smiled, making an mmmm sound.

“Do you think we have time?” she asked him.

“I don’t know what time it is,” he told her.

They looked at each other for a moment, then she reached forward and unzipped his fly.

When he left the closet roughly fifteen minutes later, Ryan’s shirt hung untucked, his dick protruded from his fly, and his hair was mussed. “Well shit,” he said, “how’s ten minutes late to leave strike you?”

Jennifer emerged from the closet, bra on, pulling the dress over her head, socks clamped in her teeth. The clock read quarter ‘till eight. She dropped the socks onto the bed. “You’re driving?”


“I’ll do makeup in the car. Check your hair.”

They were out of the house by ten ‘till.

Ryan drove the twenty minutes to the restaurant, a steakhouse called the Horn Lodge, in the next suburb over. His right hand rested on Jennifer’s purple and black-clad knee as she applied her makeup.

As she finished adding mascara to her lashes, she stared at her eyes in the mirror, blinking at the wide eyes staring back at her. “Jumping into the deep end, aren’t we?”

“So it would seem,” he replied.



“Can we really do this?” asked Ryan, as he pulled into a parking spot in front of The Horn Lodge, the red neon sign lighting up their faces in a distinctly Amsterdammy way.

“It’s not illegal.” She laughed, then her face changed. “Wait, it’s not, right?”

“No,” said Ryan. He was sure. Well. Not sure. “Pretty sure.”

“Are we being rash?”

He thought about it. Rash? No. They’d spent the last twelve years being so conservative with their expectations and desires, playing their feelings so close to the vest. That had been the poor decision, he was sure of it.

“No. No, I don’t think we are.”

“Are we ready for this?”

Ryan wasn’t sure, so he squeezed her knee. An image swam before his eyes, the two of them in a small beige room with a balding man in a short sleeve shirt and tie. “It’s not like we’re buying a time share here, we’re just meeting a couple friends for dinner.” He laughed to himself.

“A couple friends.”

“Yes,” he smiled, “I don’t feel we’ve made any decision we can’t walk back, do you?”

She snapped the mirror closed but still didn’t look at him. She looked at his hand, then placed hers on top. She took a deep breath. “No. No, we haven’t.”

“So if this all gets…” he searched for the word.

“Too real?” she offered.

“Exactly. If it gets too real, we can always thank them for a lovely evening and head home for the night.” Ryan nodded to himself to reinforce this potential course of action. “And, I don’t know, I guess I feel…optimistic? Like, they seem really well put together to me.”

“Like they know what they’re doing.”

“Exactly.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed each of her fingers. “Today is the day we change our lives.” He sucked on the very tip of her pinky for a brief moment.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Let’s go.”

Thanks for reading this chapter of my novel A Life Less Monogamous! If you enjoyed it, I'd love it if you picked up a copy of either the ebook, paperback, or audiobook now, and shared it with your friends using the links below! You can find other chapters from the book here.

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