What?

We're about to have s.e.x, and all he could spare me was ten measly seconds. We're about to be intimate, to see each other naked, for crying out loud.

This is a big deal.

Well, maybe not for him-he's done this before. This isn't a big deal at all for him, I finally realize.

And I almost want to call him again and call the whole thing off.

We meet at an upscale steak house on the following Thursday night.

"This place is impressive," Gabe says, as we wait on the banquette. The restaurant is very cla.s.sy-high cathedral ceilings with dark wood beams stretching over us, mahogany wood paneling and rustic brick lining the walls.

Gabe is drawn by the cla.s.sic details, the fine carpentry. "Apparently, the brick is repurposed from an old bank tower," he comments.

Gabe and I have dressed conservatively. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror lining the wall across from us and adjust my jacket. I'm happy with my outfit-it is very Jackie-O and cla.s.sy. I've even brought along my sleek mini briefcase.

I really don't know what the dress protocol is for such an occasion. How do you dress for a meeting going over the fine details of a "couple swap?" Do you dress conservatively or s.e.xy?

When Weston and Bridget come in, all eyes are on them. He's decked out in his usual tailored suit, and she's wearing a clingy red dress and black A-line jacket.

d.a.m.n, I think, I should have gone with "s.e.xy"-that's how you dress for such a meeting.

Well, you live, you learn.

These two really stand out in a room, and I suddenly feel a little unworthy.

Bridget greets us with a wide grin and hugs, and for some reason, it doesn't feel strange at all.

Weston gives us both a tight-lipped smile. And his gaze holds mine for a second-this is where it gets strange. He seems to have a way of making me feel very odd.

"You look very nice," he offers with a hint of a smile.

I smile at him, not able to form words. And I wonder why he makes me so nervous.

We follow the hostess to a small room off the main dining area-it's dark, it's cozy and most importantly...private.

The server pours water, and we order drinks. I order a martini, and boy, do I need it. I almost want to order two. And I don't even usually drink.

Bridget hangs her chic purse on the table with some kind of fancy purse hook contraption. "How hungry are you two?"

"Not at all," I say. I am so nervous...I really couldn't eat a thing.

"I'm not too hungry either," Gabe says. It's shocking-Gabe is always hungry, especially when it comes to steak.

"We thought we would discuss the details before dinner and get all the formalities out of the way," Bridget suggests.

That's a great idea. Yes, let's get this out of the way, and I might be able to breathe again.

"We could order some appetizers if you wish," Weston offers.

"No thanks, we're fine," I say, looking over at Gabe who nods in agreement.

We seem to all want to get this over with. I hadn't imagined this would feel so strange. Suddenly, I want to make a break for it. I don't want to do this anymore. This is just too d.a.m.n weird. I lace my trembling hand in Gabe's, hoping he'll look at me and be able to read my mind and get us the h.e.l.l out of here.

Drinks are served, and Weston asks the server to give us a long moment. "We'll need about twenty minutes," he tells her.

"Yes, Mr. Hanson," the server replies with complete obedience. I have a feeling he's been here before. Who knows...maybe he owns the place?

"Come and get me when you're ready to order. I'll be out there," the server adds before leaving us.

The click of the door shutting leaves us in complete silence. And I just want to disappear.

I can still change my mind.

Weston clears his throat. "Well," he says, his voice soft, "where to start..." he trails off, not saying a word for what seems like a week.

"First, we'd like to tell you how much we appreciate you," Bridget chimes in. "You two are fabulous...smart, lovely, and so down to earth."

"The feeling is mutual," Gabe says, looking over at me.

I've yet to utter a word.

"And we don't take this lightly. We don't do this type of thing every day," he adds. "You were chosen with great consideration."

Wow, we were chosen.

I can't help but stifle a little laugh.

"What's so amusing?" Weston asks, his eyes curious-I guess he's caught me chuckling.

"I'm sorry. It's just that...you're so formal about it all."

"I know," Bridget chimes in. "He always speaks like that. Always. It's his way."

"Well, it does have a certain charm," I offer, looking up at Weston who smiles.

Flirting...now that's more like it.

"Well, essentially, I want to go over the basics." His tone has not lightened-it seems Mr. Hanson is not in the mood to play-he's all business.

He loosens his collar and clears his throat. "The ground rules."

The ground rules.

Sounds so serious.

I reach for my briefcase. "Should I be writing these down?"

Both Weston and Bridget laugh. And I feel like such a nerd. Geez, why don't I just whip out a PowerPoint presentation while I'm at it?

Weston still smiles at me. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Mirella."

Well, at the very least, I've managed to lighten the mood.

"There are five basic rules we like to follow. Sticking to those makes everything run smoothly." Bridget says.

"Yes," Weston echoes. "Five basic rules."

Gabe and I nod but don't say a word, perhaps trying to recover from shock-this is all so formal, so absurd.

"First off, we'll talk about monogamy," Weston starts.

I can't peel my eyes off him-he's so yummy in his sleek charcoal suit. His sterling silver cufflinks sparkle. I study his manicured hands and long fingers, and imagine what they could do to me.

"Within this arrangement, the four of us must be monogamous at all times," he explains. I watch him as he speaks. I notice his words are precise and deliberate, his palms are pressed together, fingers pointing toward us. I imagine this is what he looks like when he heads his work meetings.

"I can only have relations with Bridget and Mirella...no other woman. And conversely, Bridget can only be intimate with myself and Gabe...and so on." I notice he has difficulty keeping eye contact. His gaze often falls to the table, and back up again, looking at mostly me and rarely at Gabe.

"If one of us enters into a s.e.xual relationship with someone outside our group," he continues, his words slow, "this person should inform us immediately of that fact, and an appropriate direction will be considered." His eyes fix on me. "It should be said...Bridget and I have no interest in such external relationships."

"Us either," I quickly add. And Gabe nods in agreement. "I mean, I've only ever been with him..." I trail off, my voice shaky.

"Good, that makes things simpler." And after a beat, he adds, "But nevertheless, we will insist on full STD screenings from both of you."

Bridget gives us a small "I'm sorry about all this...he's such a hard-nose" smile.

"And Bridget and I will both be subject to these screenings as well."

As I listen to his words, I realize this meeting is not at all what I expected.

It is not very s.e.xy.

"I will wear a prophylactic at all times when with Mirella, no exceptions, as will Gabe when he is with Bridget."

A what?

"And in addition to this, both Bridget and Mirella will be on a form of birth control," he informs us, his words monotone. "I a.s.sume you're taking the birth control pill or a similar contraceptive, Mirella."

Oops.

"Um...no," I say, feeling like a third grader at the princ.i.p.al's office who has done something very naughty.

Weston studies me with a curious look.

"I got the old snip-snip last year," Gabe clarifies.

His gaze travels from me to Gabe, and back again. "Oh...I see," he says. "Well, in that case, you'll have to make arrangements. I hope that's not a problem."

"No," I say. It really isn't. I'll probably gain five pounds...but on the plus side, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s will be a little bigger. I just have to remember to take the darn things-I can be a little flaky sometimes.

I am officially no longer turned on. I was a little at the start of this meeting, but he's made everything so d.a.m.ned technical.

G.o.d, I hope he's not like this in bed.

Weston pauses for a moment and takes a drink, and it seems we all mimic him and down a sip-I think we all need it.

"We know this is a lot to take in," Bridget tells us, her expression warm. I get the impression she would rather approach the whole thing a little less formally.

"Secondly," Weston starts again, "we'll discuss discretion. Discretion is of utmost importance. For example, my relations with Mirella will be completely private." I find myself unexpectedly aroused by his words and looking into his eyes-they're so serious and intense. His gaze falls from mine again.

"I will not discuss our relations with Bridget, under any circ.u.mstances, nor will I discuss them with anyone else."

Good.

"Conversely, Mirella will not discuss our relations with Gabe or anyone else."

d.a.m.n, I can't even talk to Gwen about this. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I tell Gwen everything.

"Trust us. Talking only leads to jealousy. I really don't want to know what you two are up to," Bridget comments.

It makes sense. It makes a lot of sense. I wouldn't want to hear the details concerning Gabe and Bridget. And I really don't want Weston telling Bridget what my b.r.e.a.s.t.s look like.

"Number three is simple," Weston continues. "We treat each other with kindness and respect at all times. I do not speak ill of Bridget or Mirella or Gabe. And likewise, Mirella does not speak ill of Bridget or Gabe or myself and so on. This isn't about judging or complaining about our spouses. There needs to be a positive, respectful energy at all times."

Seems simple enough, I think. I like this rule. I glance over at Gabe who seems to be stifling a smirk. I know this because I know him too well. He's doing a rather impressive job looking attentive and serious, when all he probably wants to do is laugh. I glare at him and nudge him with my foot, just to keep him in his place.

"And of course, we respect each other's boundaries and do not force or coerce our partners into doing, or performing any act they don't want to do. Partic.i.p.ation, desire, and gratification must be mutual at all times," Weston goes on.

I'm happy about this rule because, the truth is, I don't know Weston very well. I study him-the intense green eyes, the dark thick brows, the hard line of his jaw, the strong nose, and I wonder what he's like in bed, what he likes, whether he's kinky or domineering. The scary thing is...I don't know what to expect at all.

"Another rule we like to adhere to concerns the contact we have with each other," Weston adds.

I'm confused. I guess he can tell because he leans in and clarifies. "What I mean is," he explains, his words deliberately measured, "we cannot see each other outside the scheduled dates, in any other circ.u.mstances," he says, addressing Gabe. "For example, Mirella and I cannot contact or see each other any other time. We cannot call or text, or e-mail each other for any reason."

Gabe nods.

"And likewise, you and Bridget cannot contact or see each other outside of these agreed upon dates."

"I get it," Gabe says.

I'm confused by this rule. "How are we supposed to get together if we can't even contact each other?"

"Basically, all communication and correspondence will be done through a third party, my a.s.sistant in this case."

The woman sure has a lot on her shoulders.

"Poor Kathryn...does she ever go on vacation?" I can't help but ask. Everyone laughs. I really wasn't trying to be funny.