My wife was standing in the middle of the room. She was naked. She looked-up from her phone as I came in.

“I’ve been texting you,” She said.

I pulled-out my phone and looked at it. I hadn’t received anything. I held it up to show her I’d not received anything.

She huffed impatiently.

“This room is partially underground,” I said, “May not have gone through.”

She rolled her eyes and moved over and kissed me perfunctorily.  

I looked around. The room stank of sex - jizz and cunt, sweat and lube. Faint odors of incense and dope. Clothes were scattered about in wadded piles. The sofa cushions were all messed-up, some tossed on the floor. The coffee table had been pushed way over to the side and there was a three foot bong on it next to a large thing of lube and an open box of condoms.

“You said pick you up at ten. It’s ten til… I’m early.”

“Well… I’m ready to go,” Daisy said. 

“Did you have fun?” I asked.

She shrugged, “It was a lotta butt stuff.”

“You okay?” I asked, "I warned you last time."

“I'm okay," Daisy said dismissively, "I just need to fart or I feel like I'm gonna explode,” She said - making a face and putting her hand on her abdomen above her pubic hair, “I’m full of air.”

“And jizz,” I said.

“Not so much... but there was a lotta lube,” She said, “And I can’t find my underwear,” She said, looking at the tangle of clothes on the floor.

“You take them off in here?” I asked.

“I don’t remember,” She said.

"Maybe somebody took them," I said.

She looked at me, "Why would somebody take my underwear?"

I shrugged, "Souvenir."

"Souvenir? What the fuck... is this high school?"

I laughed.

"It's not like they're fancy or anything," Daisy said, stepping back and looking around, "They're black cotton panties from The Gap."

I looked around indifferently. I noticed that most of the clothes were men's - boxers and briefs, shorts and jeans.

"Was it just you?" I asked.

"Um... mostly. Yeah." She said, stooping to pick-up her tank top. She farted wetly and stood-up with a startled look on her face, “I gotta go to the bathroom,” And she walked-out.

A moment later a young guy with a man bun came in. He was thin and wiry, wearing a sarong. “Oh… uh… hey,” He said, looking at me.

“Hello,” I said.

“She leave?” He asked.

“Who?”

“The old gal that was in here,” He said.

“Daisy? She went to the bathroom.”

“She coming back?”

“Yes, she’s coming back.”

“Oh good,” He said, untying the sarong and tossing it over a chair, “I haven’t had a chance to fuck her yet.”

We looked at each other. His gaze traveled from my face down to my feet and back - taking note of my t-shirt and jeans and flip-flops.

He smirked and took hold of his limp prick and began to wank it, “You just get here?”

“Few minutes ago. Yeah.”

“Well... you’re late to the party, man.” He spat into the palm of his hand and continued to wank his prick, “You don’t mind I go first? I’ve been waiting.”

I said, “Uh…”

That’s when Daisy returned, “Oh!” She said, “Hello.” 

She was wearing her tank top, but hadn’t found her underwear yet. She looked from man bun to me, then back to man bun.

Man bun, still wanking his prick - but slower now, said, “Hey.”

My wife looked at me. I said, “He wants to go first... if that’s okay. He’s been waiting for a turn.”