Hello, strange people!

Paraphrasing, of course. I sauntered my way over to the group. It looked as though I had a shot with the brunette woman on the end, there, who had yet to show signs of courting another. Something... felt off, as I ingratiated myself, however. I stood on the trim of the carpet like a wooden plank. How the hell do I stand normally, again?

"I didn't get your name from before," the blonde speaks up.

My name! "John."

"Well, John, have a seat, your company is always appreciated."
Something about the way she said that felt off too. I take a seat adjacent to the blonde, still keeping a respectable border marked by the line of each cushion.
"I'm Becca - this is my husband, Anthony." She gestures to the man who gave her a drink earlier, who gives me a wry smile.

"Nice to meet you, John." Anthony winks.

Becca quickly swerves her head to her friends across from her, "Jordan and Melanie," gesturing to the raven-haired woman, and the brunette, respectively.

"-and this is Bob, the quiet one," Jordan quips, pointing to the man currently biting her neck, buried deep into her jugular. He and I share a glance, letting out a low, resonant chuckle to my arrival before returning to his... sport.

For the most part, everyone else was carrying the conversation. I can't fathom a more surreal introduction to a group of strangers - well, maybe I could, but this is the only time that it's actually happened. I was suddenly ingrained into their group, and I'm not sure how, exactly. Was Becca smitten with me? More so, was her husband privy to the idea that she was smitten - again, with me...?

"Forgive me if this sounds strange," I blurt out, "You have me at a disadvantage. Do we know each other?"

The group falls silence, replaced by the chattering crowd in the background. Becca is the first to rectify the confusion.

"No, I don't believe so?" Noted. "I just saw you staring, thought I'd... we'd invite you over." Becca places a hand on her husband's thigh, who, as he notices the situation, perks up and looks at you with something much more than a friendly grin.

The entire interaction feeling off started to manifest into a more coherent description; this felt wrong...
I turned my head over to their friends. Jordan too, gave a strange, friendly stare toward me, as if I had something I was withholding from her and Bob, trying to get on my good side. Melanie wasn't ignorant to what was happening, but she also didn't seem uncomfortable - or at least as uncomfortable as I was.

This whole group felt wrong, what was going on here? A swingers orgy of five?

No, no no no. I'm getting carried away here. Besides the ass-swaying, and the... friendly banter, there was nothing here that warranted the thought that this was heading anywhere sexual. I was just a stranger amongst a group... that...

I feel a hand on my rear. Becca, with hands of an angel I can tell through the fabric of my pants. At the same time I catch a glimpse of her husband shuttering in his seat. In fact, Becca's inappropriate touching had set off a chain reaction, and I was being eyed by the other couple, swooning over my presence.

"I'll get us some drinks!" I jump to my feet, hurriedly rushing to the bar as a temporary escape for the situation I'd found myself in. In hindsight, Becca making the uncomfortable situation more tenuous could have easily been a ruse for me to buy them drinks, something I continue to entertain within my brain as I stand by the counter, waving the bartender down.

"Six, drinks! Make one of them 200 proof, please."

The bartender woefully obliges, placing a tray on the counter as he begins to stack the drinks.

"I saw what was going on there," the bartender surmises, "...saw you chicken out like a lil' shrimp, too."

Shrimp? I turn red at the accusation, "It's not..."

Was it what it looked like - I mean... what else could it be? I turn back, to the party I shared a seat with. Mere strangers no more than ten minutes ago, and their acceptance of me as part of the group was, well, otherworldly. Becca notices me first, an excited smile rebounding on my vision. Her husband, as well, shares a look of contentment at my arrival, a flicker of some fantasy playing in the back of his mind. No... it can't be...

"She's married!" I exclaim, trying to keep my varied gesturing to a minimum.

"So what?!" the bartender bemoans.

I let out a laugh, interpreting the bartender's words as a joke, "No offense, but the women I date, their husbands aren't usually in the picture. Let alone, sitting across from me."

"What kind of husband would let his wife grope a stranger in front of him? It's your business, but if it goes anywhere, keep it in the bedroom, capiche?"

The barman's words made a lot of sense. So were the actions - or rather, inaction of Becca's husband. It was finally dawning on me, after having it drilled into my head, that, if I wanted to, I too had a shot with Becca, maybe even Jordan, however confusing the ramifications of that were. I began to shake in my boots at the prospect, and all of a sudden, my doubts were on whether I myself could carry out the deed.

"Throwing caution to the wind is pretty shit advice, barman. You'd like it if I fucked your wife, too?"

"Hah!" the bartender's attitude shifts, almost like he understood I was joking, before actually mulling the prospect over internally. His eyes narrow on the drinks in hand, steadily placing them onto the tray in a hexagonal pattern. He glances up, giving me a wide-eyed suspicion that I may have been serious after all. "Do... do you want to?"

"What?"

"If-if you're at all serious," he shakily reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out a small card, secondly retrieving a pen to scribble down a name - and number, "If you're at all serious, I-I'm sure we can arrange it."

I incredulously stare at the card handed to me. I hadn't even known that... Maurice - from the bar - was married, how could I with his unbanded ring finger. I look back up at him, his entire face fidgeting with... an ineffable desire. What universe have I found myself in, where so far every couple I've met displays interest in having themselves/their partner fucked by me, a nobody.

"Hey, just think about it - and these drinks are on me," the bartender chips in, placing the receipt into his own pocket. I just got free drinks for suggesting I fuck their wife. Lucky me...

I pick up the tray of drinks and walk like a zombie back to the group, the bartender's card pinned between my palm and the tray.

"Ha-hey, John, you look like you've seen a ghost," Anthony gibes, playfully punching your arm as if you'd known each other for years, "What were you doing over there for so long?"

"I offered to fuck his wife..."

"Oh, nice!"