by Elia Winters
“I’m not the jealous type.” Jo shrugged. “I never really have been.”
“I can understand the guilt.” Abby played with the napkin in her lap. “I sometimes feel like…” She let her voice trail off. The others waited, no one pressuring her to continue, eating while she gathered her thoughts. “I feel so worried about doing something wrong. I don’t want Sam to think he’s okay with something and then change his mind and I hurt him.”
Sam squeezed her hand this time, closing his fingers over hers. “You’re not going to hurt me. I love you.”
Abby rolled her eyes, exaggerated. “Ugh. Gross.”
They all laughed, the tension fading. Sam squeezed her hand again and held on for a long moment, reassuring her with his touch. “So where else do you folks like to go on vacation?” he asked.
Abby let out a breath. This was a much better topic. She could sit here and talk about normal things, and all would be right with the world.
Eventually.
Chapter Nine
“Thanks for meeting me.” Sam stretched his tense muscles, shaking out his legs, breath puffing in the gray light of early morning.
Mitchell nodded, kneeling down to tie his car key onto the laces of one sneaker. “Nobody ever wants to come running with me at this hour. It’s nice to have some company.”
“Well, it’s cold as fuck out here, so that makes sense.”
They settled into an easy jog, figuring out each other’s pace. Sam generally preferred CrossFit to running, but he still tried to switch things up now and then, and his body settled easily into the familiar rhythms. Somebody kept the rail trail treated all winter, and salt crunched beneath their feet as they jogged along. The morning was otherwise crisp and quiet.
Mitchell broke the silence, glancing over to Sam and then back at the trail in front of them. “I assume this is about you and Abby.”
“Things have escalated.” That was putting it mildly. Last time he’d talked to Mitchell about this was before Zach. He’d only been trying to wrestle with power exchange back then. He tried to put his thoughts into words, and Mitchell just waited, jogging alongside him without pushing him. “It started with that vibrator I bought. So, we went to this dance club.” Slowly, the story trickled out, without the salacious bits, the overview about Zach and then Stephan, as much as he felt like he could share about Abby’s uncertainties without betraying her secrets. “And now, she’s going to Stephan’s glassblowing studio tonight.”
Silence next to him made Sam look over, surprised to see Mitchell grinning. “What?”
Mitchell chuckled. “You’re right. Things have escalated. How do you feel about all of it?”
He’d been asking that question to himself over and over. “Good. It feels big. And fast. And a little overwhelming. But I feel good about it.”
Mitchell nodded. “I know those feelings.”
“Does it ever stop?”
“It gets more normal over time.” Mitchell smiled. “It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. We’re building this life together, and there aren’t roadmaps. Even other polyam people, everybody does it differently.” He caught his breath for a few steps before continuing. “Open relationships, hotwifing, triads, quads, intimate networks, there’s so much out there. All these paths, all just trying to find our own way.”
“It’s good to know people. To have friends I can talk to.” Without them, Sam would probably just be Googling things on the internet to no end.
“Same.” Mitchell nodded. “You and Abby should come over sometime. Meet the family.” He smiled. “It’s still weird to call them the family.”
“Definitely.” He’d met them all separately, now, but it would be great to see them all together.
“Tell Abby she can’t fuck any of us, though. We’re a closed triad.”
Sam whipped his head around toward Mitchell, stumbling before catching himself, while Mitchell guffawed. “I’m giving you shit,” Mitchell said, clapping Sam on the back.
Sam smiled in return, regaining his footing. “I’m starting to think you’re kind of an asshole sometimes.”
Mitchell nodded. “That’s how you know we’re friends. You still coming out for drinks with us tomorrow after CrossFit?”
Strange that some things could still be normal, when everything else was turning upside down. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
…
All studios kind of looked the same. Walking into Stephan’s glassblowing studio, Abby immediately noticed all the similarities to her own pottery studio: the urban-industrial vibe with metal lockers and steel tables, the wooden crates filled with tools, the lighting that never seemed bright enough. The only real difference, aside from the equipment, was the smell. The pottery studio smelled like clay, the faint tinge of glaze, and the light electrical burn of too many pottery wheels; the glassblowing studio smelled like fire.
Stephan didn’t notice her come in at first. Hard at work at his bench, turning a small piece she couldn’t really see over a glowing flame, he wore tinted safety goggles and a look of pure concentration. The room was a mixture of temperatures: cold winter air poured through the open windows, but the air closer to the tables was warm, and Stephan wore short sleeves. Not far from where he was sitting, a glassblowing oven flamed in the darkness, casting an eerie red light into the room and blasting heat in a very small area.
Her movement made him look up, and he smiled. “Just give me a second to finish this.”
“Take your time.” Abby took her own time looking at him. There was no harm in looking, after all, especially when the subject of her gaze was absolutely gorgeous. Sam had been encouraging her to set her guilt aside about these feelings, and maybe she could. Looking wasn’t touching. It was harmless. Eventually, he stopped his work and set the piece he was crafting aside.
Stephan turned off the torch, allowing him to push his safety goggles up into his hair. A faint sooty smudge marred his cheek, and she had to put her hands in her pockets to resist the urge to reach up and smooth it away. “Have you ever been inside a glassblowing studio?” he asked.
“Nope.” She glanced around, which was safer than getting caught looking into his beautiful eyes. “Reminds me a lot of the pottery studio. Just with more fire.”
Stephan grinned, and she caught his gaze. That was a mistake: he looked at her like she was the only woman in the universe. Sam could do that, too, make the world dissolve around them. She steadied herself against a wave of dizziness. Damn, he was handsome.
He pulled off his gloves. “You can hang up your coat over here.”
Abby hung her jacket on the coat hook, then her sweater as well, since it was really warm in the studio. She was left in a cotton T-shirt and jeans.
“Natural fibers, just like I said.” He smiled approvingly.
There was no real reason to feel proud, since all she’d done was literally follow the instructions in his text from yesterday, but his approval settled on her like a balm.
“I can do what I’m told,” she said. Once the words were out of her mouth, she gasped. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She covered her eyes as they both started laughing. At least it broke some of the tension.
“It’s okay.” Stephan beckoned her closer. “I knew what you meant. Come on.”
His hand burned hot through the thin fabric of her shirt as he touched the small of her back. He was too close, too intimate, suffocating her with his presence. This could easily be a platonic touch; his hand was closer to the middle of her back than the curve of her ass, but that small point of contact provided a constant distraction as he guided her through the stations. She forced herself to focus as he explained the types of tools, the difference between glassblowing and lamp work, then showed her the piece he was working on, a small curlicue for what would become a larger showpiece.
The oven was last, blazing heat forward out of the glory hole—which would never not be a funny word—and washing over her like it wasn’t the middle of winter outside.
> “I’m blowing a piece next.” Stephan showed her the equipment he had set out for the task. “You want to watch?”
“Of course.”
He smiled, warm and inviting, and Abby tried to ignore the rush of arousal. Moving away from him helped. Leaning back against the counter helped as well, as the cold steel pressed against her arms. God, why was it so fucking hot in here? It was freezing next to the door, but the heat from the oven pressed against her like a physical force. Stephan’s hair was damp, a few curls wet against his forehead, and it looked…really fucking sexy.
Shit.
Trying to set her ridiculous hormones aside, she focused on Stephan’s work. It was easy to become mesmerized. She watched in wordless, rapt enthrallment as he shaped the glass, spinning it in the flames in the oven, removing it, adding additional embellishments, eventually blowing it into a shape through a steel pipe. Watching someone do something they were really good at was its own kind of erotic.
Eventually, Stephan broke the piece away from its support, hitting hard enough that it seemed like the glass must shatter, but instead it separated perfectly. He set the piece to cool, so close that she could, if she wanted, reach out and touch it.
Stephan smiled at her. “Don’t touch it.”
He meant the piece, but he might as well have been talking to her about himself. “I won’t touch it. I’m not an idiot.” She tucked her hands into her jeans pockets.
“Sometimes it’s tempting. Looking like it does right now.”
She side-eyed his physique, attractive in the casual, beat-up clothes he was currently wearing, probably irresistible in a suit. “Yeah.”
Stephan sat down on a stool next to her. “You ever think about trying it?”
With her attention split as it was, she had to pause to catch his meaning. “Glassblowing?”
His grin widened. “Yeah, glassblowing.”
“I don’t know. I like pottery. This is gorgeous, but I’m not sure I could create anything like that.”
“Nobody does, at first. I have a whole shelf of terrible first drafts of things, and those are just the ones I kept instead of smashing and melting down.” His smile invited her in, welcoming her. “You know, Jo is really hoping you’ll go climbing with her.”
Suddenly shy under his gaze, Abby ran a hand through her hair. “It seems like it could be fun. You ever do it?”
Stephan chuckled. “Once. I got halfway up the wall and swore never again. I really am deathly afraid of heights.”
“Aren’t you wearing a harness, though?”
Stephan shook his head. “This fear is not logical. The body wants what it wants, and my body wants to be firmly on the ground.”
Abby studied those dark eyes, the line of his nose, the fullness of his lips. So many fears weren’t logical…and so many were. The body wants what it wants. She could so easily kiss him, right here, in this glassblowing studio, with no one else around to see.
“I’m gonna step outside.” Abby gestured toward the door. “I think I heard my phone.” She was already hopping off the stool and grabbing her coat. She had to distance herself, escape from the heat of his body in this tiny, intimate, sweltering space.
The cold air outside hit her superheated skin like a slap as she stepped outside. With shaking hands, she dialed Sam. The steel door of the studio separated her from Stephan, and around her, snow fell on the gravel walkway. She walked a few feet away, back into the parking lot, out from under the overhang of the building. As the phone rang in her ear, she looked out at the emptiness of the space, their cars the only ones in sight. This studio sat on the outskirts of Mapleton, off a side street, the sounds of traffic too distant to hear.
“Hey, hon. What’s up?” Sam’s voice grounded her, anchoring her in this moment, even though her head was swimming.
“Why did you and Jo tell me to come to this studio tonight?”
A long silence from his end of the phone. “What happened?”
So much happened, and nothing happened. “Nothing. Nothing happened. I took a break to come out here in the parking lot and call you.”
Sam sounded guarded. “I don’t know why you’re calling.”
“Why did you tell me to come see Stephan here alone?”
Another long silence, his soft breathing the only sign that he hadn’t hung up. “Stephan’s a good guy.”
Suddenly dizzy, Abby walked over to her car and leaned against it. After the heat of the studio, the temperature difference overwhelmed her senses. “Did you want something to happen? Did you think I was just going to cheat on you?”
“Of course not.” He sounded impossibly calm, even a bit cautious. “I thought you might call.”
What? He thought she was just going to call him and… “And what? And ask about fooling around with him?” Words started tumbling out. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. Or what I’m supposed to do. Are you setting me up with him? Does he think I’m coming here to get laid or something?”
“No!” Sam sounded surprised, almost offended. “I thought…”
“Is Jo in on this? Is Stephan?” She didn’t say it like a question, but like a fact.
A long pause. “Jo overheard us at the party. She approached me afterward to see if we might want something more.”
Abby buried her face in her hands, embarrassment bubbling hot inside her. “So Stephan knows?” Is this why he had been touching her, working her over with those bedroom eyes?
“Yes.”
Her stomach dropped. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t think you’d go. I thought, maybe once you were there in person…” His voice trailed off.
“I’d what? I’d just get overwhelmed? I’d let my hormones take over? I’d turn into some kind of raging slut who doesn’t believe in her marriage anymore?” Her voice had gotten louder, echoing into the empty space around her. She was on the verge of hysteria and tried to tamp down the emotions.
“Abby. Abby, listen.” Sam’s voice was firm and steady in her ear, and if she closed her eyes, she could picture him next to her. “I love you. I know you love me. I know that you would do anything for our relationship. Right?”
“Yes.”
“And I also know that you’re attracted to other men. That you’ve ignored your attraction for years, that you would ignore it forever for the sake of our marriage.”
Her throat was too tight to respond, but he didn’t wait for her confirmation to keep talking. “I don’t want you to ignore it,” he said. “I don’t want you to ignore your feelings for Zach, or for Stephan, or anyone else that you’re attracted to.”
“It’s just…” She waved her arm around, even though they were on the phone and he couldn’t see her. “I feel guilty. I needed to come out here and call you before I did something I would regret.”
Another pause. “What if you didn’t have to regret it?”
How could she not regret it? “I don’t want you to encourage this out of some sacrifice for me. I don’t want you to send me off to…to…” She forced the word out. “To sleep with other men, while you’re sitting at home wondering.”
He paused. “What if I find it really hot to think about you with someone else?”
She sagged against the car. “You’re not here to watch.”
“I know. But you could tell me about it after. That actually…” He paused, then started to chuckle, and his next words came out like a question. “It actually really turns me on? Like, really turns me on. At least as much as being there.”
“Fuck, Sam.” Abby sank down to the gravel. “I don’t want to push you. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”
“Do you want to go back to the way things were?” he asked.
Did she? Did she want to just leave, and pretend this whole escalating experiment had never happened? “I don’t think we could.”
“But if we could. Would you want to undo it all?”
They’d done so much since New Year’s, when they’
d first tumbled headfirst into their mutual kinks. The new direction was uncertain.
But at the same time, she’d never felt so alive.
“No,” she said at last. “I wouldn’t want to undo it.”
“Me neither.”
Abby let out a shaky breath. “You really want me to go through with this? With Stephan?”
“If you’re okay with it, yes. I want that.” He sounded so sure, so confident.
“And Jo is okay with it, too?”
“You know she is.”
“But what about after? What will this mean for us, and for the future?”
“Whatever we want. It could mean nothing at all.” She heard the sounds of shuffling, as though Sam were getting into a different position or adjusting his phone or something. Picturing him in her head, sitting there, talking to her, was almost like having him here. He cared about her. He loved her. And he wanted this. “You don’t have to do anything, Abby. But you could. It’s okay. It’s more than okay. I trust you.”
“Okay. I… I don’t know. I’ll think about it.” She paused. “I love you.”
“I know.” He sounded like he was smiling as he spoke. “I love you, too.”
With the phone back in her jacket pocket, she stayed seated in the gravel and tilted her head back to look up at the sky. Tiny pinpricks of cold landed on her skin like icy reminders of her body, her sense of self. She knew what she was going to do. She knew it from before she hung up the phone with Sam.
Stephan was working in front of the ovens when Abby went back inside. He still had the same focused look, turning a glass ornament in the oven, spinning it while staring into the light through his glasses. He was so beautiful. Being attracted to Stephan didn’t mean she wasn’t attracted to Sam as well. Maybe this was okay. Maybe none of this was as serious as she wanted to make it out to be. That thought remained in her mind as she took off her jacket and hung it up once more.
Stephan had to know she was standing there, but he was in the middle of a task, and he completed it as she walked closer to the table between them. He moved with precision, and when he finally detached the piece from the rod and set the equipment aside, he did so with the same laser focus he had showed through the entire process. Then, setting his glasses on the table, he locked eyes with Abby. They stood staring at each other across the width of the long steel work table.