Scheherazade Nights Ch. 01

Heather held up the complicated contraption: wires, tubes, what looked like a motor. "What the hell is this?" she asked.

Margery, the representative from Cupid's Gifts, said, "That, my dear, is what we call the 'Handyman's Tool Kit'...

"...It's a motorized penis pump."

"A what?!?" shrieked Mary.

"Well, you slide that red tube over..."

Debbie's mind wandered a bit as she looked around at the group of women. Three of them were her good friends: Anne, whose house they were in, Mary, and her best friend, Claire. Maggie worked at the hair salon she and Claire used and was becoming a friend. Laura was a paralegal in the same company as her husband, John, and had become friends with Mary since they lived in the same condo complex. Heather and Vi, were neighborhood acquaintances who lived down the block and she saw them in out their yards or at the store once in a while. Tracy and Jackie she had just met today. And, of course, Margery, who was running the Fuckerware party they were having.

"This is going well," she thought, "much more fun than the Bunco party would have been."

"Earth to Debbie, come in Debbie!" Debbie's mind came back to what was going on. "It's your turn to open a box."

Each of the women had nondescript, cardboard boxes on their laps, taking turns opening them and displaying the contents to the others as Margery answered any questions. The initial shyness at the start of the party had turned to plenty of ribald joking and laughter as they got comfortable under Margery's easy guidance and a few strawberry daiquiris.

Debbie popped hers open.

"Oh, perfect!" she exclaimed, pulling out a collar and leather manacles that all snapped together.

Claire arched her eyebrow, "And just what do you mean by that, young lady?"

Debbie laughed in confusion, "Oh, nothing, just that they look kind of daring and sexy."

Claire gave her an exaggerated, "Suuuurrrreeee!" and winked.

Jackie picked up her box, drew out a blister pack with 'The Love Bug' in big letters on it, and the attention moved on around the room.

...

Finally, the boxes had all been opened; all the lingerie, lotions and toys had been examined and speculated upon. Margery started packing up, "Just put the order forms in the envelopes and I'll take them with me. No need to mail them in."

The party had been Claire's idea.

About two years ago, Anne's husband, Sam, had been killed in a car accident. The three friends had rallied round her once the funeral was over, not letting her sit around by herself being lonely.

The four of them went back years. Debbie and Claire had been assigned as roommates their freshman year in college and had hit it off, rooming together all four years. Anne and Mary had split an apartment with them once out of school and the four had become fast friends, sharing vacations, clothes, and stories about sex...commiserating on jobs, delighting as men came into each other's lives, easing each other through the heartbreaks when they left.

Though all had married over the intervening years, they were still close, in and out of each other's homes on a weekly basis, the four men brought comfortably into the circle...each accepted as a good choice by the other women.

When Sam died, they started weekly get-togethers, just the four women at first. It wasn't that the three friends wanted to exclude their husbands--there were still barbecues, dinners and beach outings that they all did together. But, they knew that Anne sometimes felt like the odd person out at those things, the only single person, so what started as some impromptu gatherings became a regular Wednesday ritual of Girls Night--sometimes Out, sometimes In.

In the beginning, they just ordered pizza or Chinese and sat around talking, but they soon realized that Anne needed something to distract her a bit more.

They tried going out dancing, but fending off drunk and horny guys week after week was more work than it was worth, so they took turns thinking of things to do: movies one week, dinner at some new restaurant another, trips into the city for museums, a bowling outing one time. The last was kind of fun because the bartender at the bowling alley was an amiable fellow and the shots and beers, combined with truly atrocious play, turned into a bit of a drinking game. They ended up having to take a cab home, laughing the entire time. But, you can't do that every week.

Ideas ran out a bit, so they went back to meeting for drinks and dinner, just talking. As the months slipped by, Anne's mood lightened up a bit and the four resumed their talks from those early, single years, often about men and sex.

"So, do you think you want to start seeing someone, Anne?" Debbie had asked after about a year. They had debated fixing her up with some nice guys, but were hesitant, unsure of Anne's reaction.

"I don't know," Anne replied, "maybe someday but I don't think just yet."

"It would give you some company at the movies," Mary said.

"It would give you some company between the sheets!" Debbie teased.

"Oh, I have the ol' rabbit for that," Anne laughed.

"Rabbit?" asked Mary.

"You know, the vibrator thingy," Anne said, watching Mary out of the corner of her eyes.

Debbie and Anne burst out laughing at Mary's reaction. She had always been a bit of the, well, not a prude...more of an innocent in all their discussions.

Later, Debbie said to Mary, "All kidding aside, if she's joking about sex a little, that's good."

"Yes," Mary agreed.

...

They tried putting together a book club but it only lasted a couple of meetings because they couldn't agree on what to read: Mary wanted mysteries, while Claire wanted Nora Roberts; Anne wanted to dive into the new Ishiguro novel, and so on. It fell apart good-humoredly. Maggie, an avid reader, had joined them for that.

The previous thing they had tried was a girls' poker night. It was fun, but the poker wasn't what they hoped. None of them had the nerve to play for real money and, when playing nickel/dime/quarter, there was no incentive to fold...everyone just stuck out every hand. Where was the fun in that?

However, it did bring a couple more women into their group. Laura had been invited to make the table bigger, and Heather and Vi joined them a few weeks later. The men had offered to come "help" but were laughingly rebuffed.

It has been unfortunate that those poker games hadn't really worked out, given the timing. Anne could have used the distraction. Her wedding anniversary had been a month ago. The first year, it had been a terrible time. This year had been a little better, but they had been surprised at how quickly she had slipped back into a melancholy mood. Her friends were worried about the coming week. Sam's death had been a month after their anniversary...in fact, Saturday would be two years...and they needed to figure out something to keep her spirits up in the coming days.

So, there they had been, the eight women, casting around for something else to do each week. Laura suggested playing Bunco; she had tried it at a party and said it was kind of fun if you had a couple of drinks along with it. But, "You need at least twelve to play, and they have to be in multiples of four."

"I guess we could look around for some more people," Mary said doubtfully.

"Wednesday night is Bingo night at the Rec Center," Maggie said--everyone had to scurry to clean up the spilled drinks from the pillows being thrown across the room.

"How about we try a gourmet group?" asked Mary.

Anne wasn't keen, "I wasn't much of a cook when Sam was around; I don't really think I'd like that."

The silence was awkward for a moment or two.

Suddenly, Claire said, "I have something. Let me make a call."

"What?"

Claire smiled. "Let me make a call," and walked out of the room, ignoring the questions.

She came back a few minutes later. "Okay, everyone be here at 6:00 next week; don't be late. If you want to invite girl friends, that's okay. Bring an hors d'oeuvre and a sense of humor."

"Claire, what is it?"

"Well, girls, next week, a woman I know is going to come over to help coordinate the party Anne's going to be hosting..."

"Party?" Anne didn't look particularly happy at the thought.

"Yep. Seems like Anne has just signed up to give a Fuckerware party!"

"No shit!"

"Oh my God!"

...

The order forms were all gathered and Margery had left amidst laughter and good wishes. "I'll drop everything with Anne during the week, ladies."

The women sat back, joking about what had just gone on; comfortable with each other after an hour and a half of hilarity. Anne held up the lacy lingerie she had received as a gift for hosting the party with a wry, "Hmmm, not much use for this right now."

"Wear it just to feel good about yourself," Laura said.

"Hell, yes. I wear sexy stuff all the time. Makes me feel good," Maggie put in. "Plus, whenever Peter gets a peek, I like the thoughts going through his head," she added.

"Which head?" asked Claire, with a deadpan expression.

Anne got a mischievous look on her face. "So, this four year old is being give a bath by his mother. He looks between his legs, then up at her and says, 'Mommy, are these my brains?'"

Anne paused for a beat, "'Not yet,' said the mother."

More jokes followed, mostly about men, but nothing ill-natured. Finally, Tracy said she had to leave. The others milled about, grabbing another daiquiri and nibbling at the cheese and crackers out on the porch, chatting.

"Okay, girl, spill!" said Claire turning to Debbie.

"Spill what?"

"Don't you dare play innocent with me! I want to know what you meant by 'perfect'. I saw your order form; you checked that collar off."

"I can't believe you peeked! Those forms were supposed to be private!" Debbie said indignantly.

"Oh, no, no, no you don't! Don't make this about me." Claire laughed. "Either you tell us all or...well, I don't know what I'll do, but I'll make sure you don't like it."

"It's nothing."

"Then you won't mind telling us, will you?" Anne added sweetly.

"No, seriously, it's nothing."

"Luuccy, I think you got some 'splainin to do," mimicked Heather in her best Ricky Ricardo voice.

Anne looked at Debbie, putting on a face all innocent, "I'm just wondering why your cheeks are a bit pink, Debbie?"

That definitely caused some color in Debbie's cheeks. "Umm, it's just... well, I've got a fantasy night coming up with John."

"Oh, you slut, you!" laughed Anne. "Tell me more!"

"Wait, wait, a minute," said Claire, "You have one coming up? Like...you schedule them?"

"Well, sort of."

"Okay, this I've got to hear. You're not going anywhere, girlfriend. Anne, pour her another one. Hey everyone! Grab a seat. Debbie is going to tell us a story," she said with an evil little twinkle.

"Claire, I don't...," Debbie started.

"Come on, Debbie, it's too early to end the evening," pleaded Anne.

...

"It started last year. John and I weren't agreeing about a vacation. I was tired of that rainy spring, really dying for some sun--I wanted to go to Aruba. The problem is, John's not a big fan of beaches. He gets bored just sitting anywhere; he absolutely hates sitting in the sun. He wanted to go hiking in Scotland. In my mind, that was just going to be mist and rain.

"We could only afford one because we had gone skiing with the family the preceding Christmas. We weren't fighting about it, but neither of us was budging, either. Somehow the idea came up to have a contest, winner got their vacation. We danced around trying to find something that we both felt we had a chance to win, but which wasn't as totally random as flipping a coin. Turns out we couldn't agree on that, either.

"Finally--remember that night we all went out to Estella's Restaurant? John and I were a bit tipsy and we were sitting around in the living room and he said that, if I would go to Scotland, he'd do any fantasy of mine I wanted."

"Whoo, girl," Maggie hooted, "I hope you took him up on that!"

Debbie hesitated and then said in a rush, "Actually, I said, how about I would do any fantasy of his if we went to Aruba."

"You didn't!" Mary said.

"Well, he countered and said he'd do three of mine for Scotland and then I said five for Aruba...as I said, we had had too much to drink.

"Anyway, he started thinking about it at that point, and I got nervous about what I was getting myself into. I asked him did he even have five fantasies and what kind of things would I have to do, 'cause there were limits. He laughed and said, 'Hon, I've got more than five, believe me'.

"Of course, then I wanted to know about them.

"He told me some of them--I could tell he was censoring them a bit, but they were interesting to hear. Then he asked me about mine. I wouldn't normally have talked about that but I was feeling good and the mood had gotten kind of sexy, so I did.

"We ended up realizing that both of us had some fantasies that we had been too embarrassed or too nervous to talk to the other person about them. We didn't want to seem perverted to each other. The funny thing is, when we started talking about them, we found out that the other person rarely thought the fantasies were that strange. Some of them we'd even have been glad to do with each other...a couple maybe not so much...", she laughed nervously, "...but it wasn't that they bothered us, just that they weren't that interesting.

"I don't know who thought of it first. Somehow the original idea of a contest and the topic of fantasies got put together and, when we were done, we had The Game. When we woke up the next morning, we were both kind of bashful about it, but finally John said, 'So, it is on?' and I said 'I guess so' and there we were."

"So, come on, what is it?"

"About every month or so, each of us gets to ask the other to perform any fantasy they want. If the other completes the fantasy successfully, they get points. At the end of the game, the person with the most points gets to choose their vacation."

"Holy shit!" breathed more than one of the women.

"Any fantasy?" Heather asked.

"Umm, pretty much. I mean, we have rules to make sure we stay married, but there's still a lot of room for creativity. Just because something isn't interesting for him doesn't mean I shouldn't get my kicks from it."

"Whew, girl, I like your style!" exclaimed Claire.

"But," Heather persisted, "weren't you worried that he'd want you to do something that you thought was really bad?"

"In a word? No, not really," Debbie said. "John's a pretty decent guy. He's not a pedophile or some kind of rapist; he's not looking to hurt me. On the other side, I'm not the kind that wants to turn her husband into an emasculated cuckold. If either of us were really twisted in some way, I think our marriage would have bigger problems than where to go on vacation. But, we aren't.

"Honestly," she continued, "I suspect our desires are probably pretty much like anyone else's, if the truth were being told."

"Don't get me wrong. There are definitely fantasies that the other person isn't really interested in, maybe doesn't even really like so much...but they don't make that person want to gag or run away. They just aren't exciting or maybe are a bit uncomfortable. There's nothing wrong with that. The point is that the person choosing what we do is really excited by it. I can endure a little boredom if I know he's having the time of his life. My turn will come later."

"And the winner picks the vacation?" asked Vi, joining the conversation for the first time.

"Yep."

"What happens if you have the same number of points?"

Heather interrupted, her mind still back on her original topic, "But, for someone to win, that means that someone didn't do a fantasy, right? And that means they didn't like what they had to do. How do you stop that? I mean, I know you say that you're nice people...and you are, Debbie, really, I don't mean anything bad...but what if it's just something you're not comfortable with?

"We have safe words, Heather. Everything stops instantly when those are used and we talk it over to see where things go from there. Maybe they mean 'stop what you're doing at this moment' or maybe they mean 'stop this entire fantasy, I can't do this'. Either way, we never, ever, ever have to do anything we really object to doing."

"Have you ever used them?" Mary wanted to know.

"Yes. We both have. My calf got a charley horse one time when I...umm...well, I was tied up." Debbie looked incredibly self-conscious as the rest broke into laughter. "It hurt so badly, I just had to get him to stop and help me stretch it, so I used the safe word. It was so sore after the cramp passed, I couldn't let him tie that leg back up."

"Poor boy!" said Claire...more laughter.

"What about when he used it?" asked Anne.

Debbie's face got pensive for a moment. "Let's just say I mismanaged something kind of badly and put him in a situation he wasn't prepared to deal with."

"Are you guys okay?" asked Claire.

"Oh, yes, we stopped the whole thing and talked it out. We're good."

She brightened a bit. "I'm certain that someday the shoe will be on the other foot and, anyway, the rules also explicitly say I don't have to feel guilty," she laughed. "Maybe someday I'll do a better job of it and we'll get that one."

Vi jumped back in with her question, "So, what happens in a tie?"

"John was a sweetie. He agreed I could win a tie. I think he was so excited at the prospect of the next few months that I really missed my chance," Debbie smiled. "Note to self: hit husband up for a couple of other things next time he's dreaming about sex."

"And was there a tie? Who won?" Vi continued.

"I did, by a few points. John's going to win this time. It's set up so we'll more or less alternate unless someone really wimps out. I'm already looking for waterproof hiking shoes."

"So, so tell us how Aruba was." said Mary.

"Mary...fuck Aruba!" shouted Claire. "I want to know more about the damn game!"

....

"What is it you're dying to hear, Claire?" asked Debbie.

"I don't know! Everything?"

Everyone laughed. "Start with the schedule. How often do you do it?...The fantasies, I mean!" as Anne began to make the obvious joke.

"About once a month we each get a day. We skip around the holidays because we're so busy, so maybe ten times a year."

"A whole day?"

"Yep, 6 a.m. to 6 a.m...though they rarely last the long."

"And how does the person do it? Do they just tell you what to do?"

"There's no set format. Sometimes you get instructions before hand, sometimes you just get told what to do as the day goes on, sort of 'Now you do this' kind of thing."

"You mean like a slave?" breathed Heather.

Debbie laughed. "Well, it can be, but not necessarily. What if the person whose turn it is has a fantasy about being submissive? They can tell the other person to be the dominatrix or dominator or whatever the word is. It's happened," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"God, that's kinky!" said Heather.

"Oh, I don't know," said Anne. "I think fantasies about being tied up are pretty common. Maybe most people don't do them, but I think they're there."

Debbie continued, "Anyway, yes, Heather, you can have a slave, if that's what you want. You can also have an equal partner who just happens to be doing something you really want them to do. Whatever you choose."

Claire went back to her questions. "You said you had rules?"

"The rules are what make it all work. Without them, I think there's too much risk someone might go too far and hurt things between us before they realized what they were doing. And that's something neither of us is willing to risk. We want to stay married more than we want to play The Game."

"Give us a fer instance," Claire pressed.

"Well, you already know one. The safe words. Rule #2: There are always safe words no matter what. If the partner cannot speak, a signal must be agreed upon beforehand."