Fourplay | The Mostly True Story of a Lusty Librarian's Swinging Sexcapades

Naughty or Nice List?

Three days dripped by with DMV slowness. I keep getting and ignoring texts from Nick.

Nick: Morning Morgan (with a little sun) ☀️.

Nick: Night Morgan 😘.

Damn him! Something nags at me though, and I know I'm trying to push it back down, away from the surface of my conscience. Here it is again: What if Morgan? I've left my school job and am heading into the mall for an evening of design work. Feeling very guilty or, at the least, conflicted, my shoulder devil and angel are arguing again.

Angel "The guy only wants a sexual relationship. As if! This is not you, Morgan Reynolds. Remember band camp in high school, Sunday school, volunteering at the senior center?" She teeters to whisper in my ear.

My little devil grabs my earlobe and whispers so only I can hear, "Hey scoop of vanilla. Don't you want to at least get laid with Nick?"

Gossamer Angel, stamping her foot because she can't hear, "You'd regret this forever, Morgan the Good Girl. He only wants one thing, and you want so much more! A real and loving relationship."

My Devil shoots a flame with his pitchfork, but she dodges with a flutter of her wings as he hisses, "Raw, primal sex. With the lights on. One time. Remember your vibrator and sexy visions a few nights ago?"

Angel, "That was so bad of you," she flings a handful of fairy dust at him, then apologizes, "Go away. She's a good girl."

Devil leaning close, "You've never been spanked, Morgan. But you want to be."

My Angel is actually blushing too as my nipples are like hard pebbles (again!) I almost walk into a pole. How about Nick, but not all the sex party stuff? I shoo them both off my shoulders and swing the glass doors open to the Pottery Barn. Oh good, there's Taylor. He'll know what to do! Somehow I bet the Devil has the Angel over his knee with a gravelly whisper, "You know you want this." I imagine she's not resisting much. I would laugh but I know they embody my inner struggle.

We're swamped with the pre-Christmas madness tonight. People will buy almost anything as a gift. We have an entire Elf-themed line of pillows and placemats... and crap. No, really it is! I cringe at putting yet another coaster set in a bag for a middle-aged, mall-frustrated, guy with cheap clothes. This is probably an upscale gift for his sister as he snatches the bag. "Like she needs Will Ferrell to put her boxed wine on," he grunts and makes for the doors.

Between customers I'm telling Taylor the abbreviated story of Nick Chandler and the 'Proposition from Hell'. Taylor is totally into Nick, Googling pics and almost drooling. Seriously though, I've kind of lived vicariously through Taylor these last few years. Tall, blonde, good-looking, fun, with a bit of a Southern drawl, his sales go up when he says Ma'am to the mall-crazed women. I watch him with two women elbowing each other to be closest to him. "And here we have our exclusive Elf-themed Christmas extravaganza!" He does Extravaganza like Oprah, and they titter and squeal. He's so upbeat and sincerely happy with himself and life. Okay, he went to Las Vegas with his mom to see Adele. Full stop. Is it the gay guy thing, or is it Taylor? Or both? Why are gay guys generally cheery and fun, and gay women are usually sullen and a bit bitter? Better not share THAT with anyone!

"Oh hell yes, Morgan!" Taylor pinches my ass behind the counter, "Look girl, you're almost like a nun." "MERRY CHRISTMAS," he waves a soccer mom goodbye. She almost crumbles from the weight of an entire serving set. He does the Christmas! thing then snaps back to me, "This is like Cosmo, urban legend shit MorRey," he whispers using his nickname for me (Love it!). "I've been to some pretty slutty raves and parties." I roll my eyes at him and he laughs. "And you've shut him down and he keeps texting. Wake up, girl. He wants you." He pokes a finger in my chest. "Have him over, hump his brains out, or vice versa, see what he means with all this. Then... reassess!" He drags out the Then for suspense.

He gets a faraway look and peers at the ceiling fan, "Are there clubs and parties like that around here?" Coming back to earth, he grabs my arm, "You MUST tell me everything."

Later, before closing, I text him the link to the SCNTM video. I see him across the store acting like he's looking up a distressed bronze lamp for a couple. But I can tell by the way he's stopped in his tracks that he's glued to the sexy, masquerade orgy video. The couple moves to lampshades as Taylor spins to me, eyes wide, his hand clamped over his mouth, and gives me a thumbs up. OMG, his enthusiasm makes me laugh out loud.

I mutter driving home, squinting at my neighborhood's overzealous use of Christmas lights. Some of the houses could seriously compete with The Griswolds.

I hear my phone ding in my handbag. Go away Nick!

On my bed, restless, I scribble at the top of a piece of paper, 'Nick's Naughty or Nice List.' Yes, I'm at that point!

NICE:

He's hot as hell

Has a devilish grin

Witty

Very intelligent

Rich (I ask myself, "Is that really a 'NICE'? Can't hurt!")

He's a winker

Tall and strong with big hands (I bite my lip)

Adventurous - Oh hell yeah, he is!

He sent me flowers at work

NAUGHTY:

He only wants a sexual relationship

He might have a big prick (that might be a 'NICE'!)

I laugh out loud, struggling to add to the 'NAUGHTY' list. It's late. Turning to Hello Kitty, I ask, "What do you think I should do?" I swear she was about to answer when my phone dings. It's Nick. Again.

Nick: Night Morgan, with the kissy face. 😘

Damn him!

Then, I see my hand take my phone. It's like a horror movie when the disembodied hand crawls across the floor all on its own, in slow motion. I'm not actually in control. I picture the Devil on my shoulder concentrating hard. He's sitting on the Angel whose mouth is duct-taped shut. I slide up on my screen and see Nick's message in what seems like 60-point font. Holding my breath and biting my lip, my renegade fingers type:

Nick: Night Nick.

Send.

Instantly, there are three dots, and his reply pops up.

Nick: I can breathe now. Thanks Morgan.

I bet he intuitively knows not to push too hard. My mind wanders without much effort, "When should he push hard?"

I text back.

Me: About those etchings Naughty Nick... I took them down for my Christmas tree.

Nick: I would love to see it! BTW I leave tomorrow evening for Europe. Just saying...

I'm taking deep breaths trying to psych myself up. There's no denying that I want this man. Not all that other stuff... but him, at least once. Right? Totally flushed, lip biting, eyes wide open (in terror?), my fingers grip my phone, thumbs slowly moving...

Me: Why don't you come over?

Three dots right away.

Nick: See you in 30 minutes Morgan.