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Never a Bride: Kat McKinney, Marital Aid (Wedding Slut, Pt 3)

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Meet Kat McKinney: Marital Aid

Kat doesn’t envy her married and to-be-married friends. Really. Well, maybe she envies them the party. And their ability to be sure of someone. Maybe that.

But if some of those married and to-be-married friends want to include her as a third from time to time (Kat McKinney, Marital Aid!)…

Well, who is she to disappoint them?

Insightful, funny, sometimes sad, but always sexy, Never a Bride  is the third story in the Kat McKinney, Wedding Slut series:

  1. Wedded Bliss
  2. Plus One
  3. Never a Bride
  4. Cold Feet (Available now!)

Now available in the collection The Bridesmaid Always Comes Twice

READ “SARAH & HARRY,” A STEAMY EXCERPT FROM NEVER A BRIDE!

(F/F/M ménage à trois/infidelity romance. Adult readers only.)
Never a Bride: Kat McKinney, Marital Aid - Available through KindleUnlimited/KOLL

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Description

Meet Kat McKinney: Marital Aid

Kat doesn’t envy her married and to-be-married friends. Really. Well, maybe she envies them the party. And their ability to be sure of someone. Maybe that. But if some of those married and to-be-married friends want to include her as a third from time to time (Kat McKinney, Marital Aid!)… Well, who is she to disappoint them? Insightful, funny, sometimes sad, but always sexy, Never a Bride  is the third story in the Kat McKinney, Wedding Slut series:

  1. Wedded Bliss*
  2. Plus One*
  3. Never a Bride
  4. Cold Feet  (Available now!)

Now available in the collection The Bridesmaid Always Comes Twice

READ “SARAH & HARRY,” A STEAMY EXCERPT FROM NEVER A BRIDE!

(F/F/M ménage à trois romance. Adult readers only.)

[goodreviews isbn=”B00M8PM00S” bookinfo=”off” buyinfo=”off” grstars=”ed5944″ grlinks=”ed5944″]

Additional information

author

Mary Cyn

format

ebook (ePub 2), ebook (mobi/Kindle), ebook bundle

length

Short Story (2,000–10,000 words)

Preview

It’s two months ago and I am in Henry and Sarah’s livingroom and Henry is pouring me my fourth? Fifth? Eighth? Drink of the night. Sarah’s out of town on business and I ran into Henry on the street. You’d be surprised just how often that happens in New York. The both of us were out running errands and didn’t have plans for the rest of the night. You’d be surprised how rarely that happens. He invited me over for dinner.

“I make too much food when Sarah’s gone,” he told me, putting down a plate of gnocci and balsamic strawberry pork chops.

Henry is the kind of guy who makes this for dinner. He’s not a chef, he just actually cooks. Like a grown up. Henry and Sarah are the most grown up friends I have. They both have real jobs, they cook real food. They live in a nice neighborhood in an apartment I’d stab someone for. They have a great marriage, one of those bulletproof partnerships of equals. The kind I’ve always wanted. I feel like I’m in a movie when I’m with them, or a tv show. Because who actually has a life like this?

Henry is a solidly attractive man. A classic feroda of a man. Manly but not butch. Loose but not crass. With his thick, dark, hair and sharp, dark, eyes, he would be totally at home in a black and white film. He is a man who will age well. It occurs to me that Sarah is surprisingly fun for someone so sturdily practical. She has made sound choices in her life, all around. She speaks of marrying Henry as if it was inevitable but I imagine her choosing to marry him, looking at him on display in Bed Bath and Beyond, saying ‘Yes, that one will age well. That is a classic. I’ll take him.’

We’ve never been alone before, I realize. I’m friends with Sarah. Henry is her husband. We’re friends by association. But why should that matter? The conversation flows as easily as the booze and I trot out an old line that made Nick laugh so I use it in conversation when appropriate.

“I just don’t think I could get a tattoo,” I say. “I mean, this is me we’re talking about. What on earth am I going to commit to for the rest of my life?”

Henry quirks a smile in his charmingly sardonic way.

“I feel like I’m picking up on a not so subtle metaphor here.” There’s something strange in the way that he’s hot. Not hot, maybe, but attractive. He is solidly attractive in a slightly strange way. Like he could be the romantic lead in a Spike Jonze movie.

“The thing is,” he continues “a tattoo isn’t going to snore. It isn’t going to change. You’re not going to wake up one morning and realized that you’ve got a totally different tattoo than you meant to have.”

Oh. I guess nothing is perfect. I know it seems like I’m jealous of Sarah, because I am, but I am genuinely sad to realize this. I might feel a little smug if I found out that her job wasn’t as great as I thought it was, or her apartment wasn’t as perfect it seems. But I never once thought or hoped that this marriage had cracks.

“I mean, you’re not going to get bored having sex with the same tattoo for the rest of your life.” He finishes and takes a sip of his drink.

Oh. The problem is sex. The problem is always sex.

People say that infidelity is a symptom of some other problem in a relationship but I don’t really believe that. I think there are plenty of people who are in really great relationships that just like fucking other people. Or, hell, just want to fuck other people. Because fucking other people is fun and people like having fun.

And then I realize that I am alone with my friend’s husband and he is telling me he wants to fuck other women. And the only good reason to tell someone that is if you want to be fucking them.

I should leave. But I can’t leave now. I mean I can’t leave right now. Because I don’t want him to think I think he’s hitting on me. Or that I’m shocked that he would admit to the drawbacks of marriage and I must call Sarah at once. I don’t want him to feel guilty or weird or embarrassed. I might also just be too drunk and lazy to get up an go home right now. I will admit that it’s a factor. And maybe I’m just making this up. Maybe he’s just telling me this because this is what you tell your slutty friend. This is my role in the friendship ecosystem: The Slutty Friend, the friend of no judgment. I’ll just steer the conversation elsewhere. I have a brown belt in flirting aikedo.

“You have this thing,” Nick later told me, as I related this story, “you want to be assured that you’re the hottest girl in the room. That’s probably what he picked up on. Thought you were flirting with him.”

I don’t really like this revelation about myself. I don’t want it to be true. But if Nick says it, he’s probably right. Still, it’s weird to think that I put something out there without knowing it. I didn’t say I have a black belt.

I get up to leave, finally, and I think I’m in the clear. There have been a few more close shaves, flirting wise, but I think it’ll be ok. I just have to get my coat on, bundle up, and… and he’s standing very close to me. Dangerously close.

He’s very, very, tall. At this close range, with the light behind him, he is a 2001 Monolith of a man. If I touch him there could be some freaky psychedelic light show, or… I’ll learn how to use tools or something, whatever, I never saw the whole movie. He’s so close I’d have to fake right and juke like a running back to get out of this. I’m trying to be good. I’m trying to not hook up with my friend’s husband. But not hooking up with people isn’t exactly my strong suit. I’m the slutty girl, that’s my whole deal, I’ve put a fair amount of work into figuring out who get people into bed and not much thought into how to avoid it. And, I kinda hate this about myself, but a small part of me feels like I have a reputation to uphold. He pus his arms on my shoulders and says

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Oh, God, here it comes.

“Do you think you could get me and Sarah into one of those sex parties you go to?”

Oh. Oh! Thank fucking god.

“Oh, uh, I think so. I mean, if Sarah wants to go.” I fumble a little while my mind switches tracks. “I… did she say she wants to?”

“No, but she seemed like she might be interested.” He takes a step back and sits back down again. “What’s involved exactly?”

“Oh, well, it’s not, like, a free for all. It’s just, uh, couples mostly, having sex in a place where other people are also having sex. I mean, sometimes they meet someone and swap or, like, add a third or whatever.”

“And would you — ” He looks at the floor but raises an eyebrow as though he’s looking at me. “ — maybe, want to be our third?”

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I know this role: Kat McKinney, Marital Aid.

“Yeah, sure.” I smile softly, welcoming in a no big deal way. It’s important to seem interested but not eager, just on the friendly side of neutral, and always, always, equally interested in both parties. It’s actually a shame that it’s illegal to make a job of this, because I’m really good at it. And I’ve had the practice.

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