The Wives Club, Erotica for the Average Woman

Vegas

It had been a long time since John and Rye could get away. When soccer schedules weren't dominating their life, it was dance, or high school band concerts, or tutoring appointments.

Tucked in between all of that, they ran a fairly successful company making apps for schools and small nonprofits who did a lot of kid-driven fundraising, like car washes. 

John was the practical one, good with numbers and spreadsheets, while Rye was creative and charismatic — tasked with coming up with great ideas and selling those ideas to customers. 

They would need both of their skills during this week-long Vegas convention for software developers if they hoped to land some big contracts. 

With their suitcases laid out on the bed, Rye sorted suits and matching ties, socks, swimsuits, and made sure they each had plenty of underwear. Ticking off a list in her head she gathered her own clothes. She would need formal wear for the black-tie dinner, business casual for the daily lectures, something for the poolside, something comfortable for the flight and sight-seeing, and something a little sexy for John.

They had a decent sex life, but sometimes between late-night projects and a house full of teens they didn't have the time nor energy, or space to get creative. Rye hoped this trip would give them all the space and energy they needed to have the kind of sex they had in their early twenties when they were still dating. Besides her nightie she bought just for this, she threw in her "back massager" — you know for the stiff muscles that come after a long flight. As an afterthought, she threw in a tube of lubricant, just in case things got really creative.

Packed and ready to go, John and Rye gave kisses to the kids, thanked John's parents for coming to stay at the house, and rattled off every number they would ever need for every emergency they could imagine.

"Go, go on. Git. I've raised enough damn children in my life, I can handle these," John's mom laughed as she shooed them out the door. There was a chaotic chorus of 'thank you' 'love you' 'goodbye' 'have fun' 'be good' as everyone said their last piece at the same time.

It was hot in vegas when they arrived. All the sidewalks and buildings radiated a bright heat that felt claustrophobic. Stepping up to the curb, John waved down a shuttle to take them to their hotel. 

"Hopefully it has air conditioning," John said as he watched the old conversion van come to a screeching halt at the curb. The driver jumped out gathered all their luggage and stacked it full-on Tetris style in a tiny space at the back of the van, and then waved to the fifteen people standing there, hurrying them to get in.

John looked at Rye, who was looking back and forth between the sweaty travelers and the too few seats in the van.

John got in first sliding over the bench seat, wedging himself next to a window. Rye followed but instead of sitting next to him, she sat on his lap to make room for the others. Many couples followed their lead, doubling up so they could all fit. Once all fifteen people had crammed into eight seats, the driver jumped into the driver's seat and shot out into traffic without even looking — flipping off the honking cars. He drove fast, weaving in and out of traffic, alternating between full stop and full gas. 

Rye had to hold on to the seat in front of her to avoid falling over into the laps of the people sitting next to her. They were packed so tightly and being thrown from one side to the other, they couldn't help but ram shoulders from time to time. At first, there were a lot of "sorry" and "excuse me" but soon it seemed silly to just keep saying it.

Rye moved further back onto John's lap, thinking she could find more stability if she were closer to him. After a minute she could feel the distinct outline of his erection pressing into her low back. Smiling to herself, and acting like she hadn't noticed, she intentionally rocked her hips back and forth with small motions.