“Not a chance.” She grinned.
By ten, the wine had loosened everyone. The librarian—a stern woman with kind eyes—collected keys on a silver tray. Claire watched Mark drop his Porsche fob next to a Ford key, a BMW, a Volvo. The clink of metal against crystal felt like a starting pistol.
Mark squeezed Claire’s hand. “Last chance to bail.”
Claire took the key. Then she took his hand. “Let’s go home first.” Swingers Wife Swap 2 - The Key Party
Later—much later—Claire lay in the dark, Tom’s arm draped over her, the camera’s red eye unblinking. She wondered if Mark was holding Lena the same way. If the redhead—Rachel—was watching her husband with another woman, or if she’d drawn someone else entirely.
Claire took the key, her fingers brushing his. “We’ve talked about it for a year. The last swap at the beach house was… fine. But this,” she tapped the card, “is the real thing. The Key Party.”
But as they pulled into their own driveway, Claire looked at the brass key still in her palm. She slipped it onto her key ring, next to her house key and her office fob. “Not a chance
In the car, Mark drove one-handed, the other resting on her knee. He didn’t ask what she’d done. She didn’t ask about Lena. The rules were clear: what happened at the key party stayed there.
She found Mark in the main hallway, leaning against the wall, shirt untucked, looking younger than she’d seen him in years. He held out the brass key.
But Claire shook her head. “We came here to play.” Claire watched Mark drop his Porsche fob next
Lena smiled, slow and deliberate. “Well then.” She took Mark’s arm. “Shall we?”
Mark turned it over in his palm. “You sure about this?” he asked, though his voice had an edge of thrill, not hesitation.
Then the men drew. Mark’s turn. He fumbled a moment, then lifted a brass key—identical to the one from their invitation. Claire felt her stomach drop. Lena Harrison’s key.
