by Elia Winters
“I tell you about the people I find hot all the time.” They had always checked out strangers together, ever since the beginning of their relationship. “It’s not like I’m going to leave you to go fuck some random.”
Geoff leaned his head on his hand, slowly rolling one of the tight curls beneath his thumb. “You’d just let yourself want someone, but not do anything about it?”
This whole conversation was feeling more bizarre by the minute. Someone on the TV said something funny, and a laugh track echoed in the silence of their living room. Patrick picked up the remote and muted it. “Is this all hypothetical?”
“Of course.”
Hypothetical questions about fidelity and polyamory were not a good idea, and Patrick knew that, but he’d been with Geoff a while. He could probably be open. “If I had someone I really wanted to sleep with, I would tell you about it. And that would be it.”
“It wouldn’t have to be a big deal.” Geoff said it like he was trying to convince himself. “Sex doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
Patrick agreed, but also knew this wasn’t so cut-and-dry with Geoff. “It can be as big a deal as we want it to be,” he said.
It had been weird at first for Patrick, knowing he was Geoff’s only serious relationship, after the other man had prioritized school above all else well into his twenties. Geoff had graduated from Harvard, for Christ’s sake, and near the top of his class. Not that his delayed sexual experiences reflected any aversion, though. Sex had always been something Patrick enjoyed, but he’d been unprepared for the intensity of having sex with Geoff.
Geoff smiled to himself, something hidden and mischievous and wholly unexpected after this conversation, and Patrick really did wish he could read the other man’s mind. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
Geoff shrugged. “Thinking about how you look sometimes when I hold you down and make you take my cock.”
“Holy shit.” Patrick’s cock twitched, and he was a goner if Geoff kept talking dirty. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
Geoff chuckled. “That would be mean. Come on. Let’s watch a movie.”
Geoff settled back in against Patrick’s side again, and Patrick unmuted the television and flipped to their streaming service menu before handing the remote over to Geoff to pick. He’d missed something in this conversation, and damn, it felt significant.
3
Lori didn’t hear the tapping at her open office door at first. Whenever she dug into work, she easily lost track of where she was and what was happening around her. The louder knock caught her attention and, shit, he might have been knocking for a while. Geoffrey Robinson stood in the doorway, looking curious, holding a printout of some kind.
“Oh, hey, come on in and have a seat.” She gestured to an empty chair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I get pretty into my work.”
“You’re here late.” He sat in the chair, glancing around her office. He’d never been in here before. She seldom saw him in this building at all, actually; he was in the history department, headquartered two buildings over.
She spun in her chair and leaned back, rocking slightly. “I was getting things set up for the Bridge Program, and then I got into cleaning up my laptop. And time got away from me, I guess.” She glanced at the clock; it was after seven.
“This has to be the cleanest office I’ve ever been in. With most of the history department, you could do an archaeological dig right in the building and never have to travel.” He smiled. He had a nice smile, warm and friendly.
She returned the smile. “I like a neat office. It helps me think. I can’t get anything done when things are a mess.” She eyed him up and down, trying to gauge his purpose for being here. Not that a visit wasn’t nice, but they weren’t that close, and he’d never come to her office. “So, what are you doing here so late?”
“I often stay late on Wednesdays, catch up on things in the middle of the week.” He looked down at the flyer he was still holding, which she couldn’t see from her vantage point. “I was cleaning off the bulletin boards on my floor for the end of the semester, and I found this. Thought I’d slip it in your mailbox, but the light was on at the end of the hall, and I figured, what the hell.” He handed it over.
Lori skimmed it. Shit, she’d forgotten about these. Back when she’d been searching for research subjects to interview for her polyamory dissertation, she’d hung them up on the various campus bulletin boards, and like anything hung on a campus bulletin board, they were promptly buried under other flyers and slipped her mind. This sheet was indistinguishable from the other flyers from psychology postgrads looking for research subjects, all neutral font and bulleted details, but her subject definitely set her apart.
“Sorry, I forgot to take these down. They’re probably everywhere.” Lori folded it in half and tossed it into the paper recycling. “You could have thrown it away.”
“Didn’t know if you were sentimental and wanted to keep one for old times’ sake.” Geoff adjusted his glasses. While he didn’t seem to pay much attention to fashion overall, tending toward the same relaxed tweed jacket and button-down shirts for most of the year, he did wear these awesome Warby Parker-style glasses, the kind with the crisp dark frames. She’d never been much for glasses one way or another, but Geoff made them look good.
“Nah, that’s okay. I’ve got the paper that matters, now.” She glanced up to the wall, where she’d already had her new degree framed and mounted alongside her master’s and bachelor’s.
“Congratulations again. I remember being so relieved when I finally finished.”
“Did you go straight through?”
“Kindergarten to PhD, one right after another.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I put literally everything else in my life on hold for school. When I finally got a terminal degree, I didn’t know what to do with myself.”
“You went into teaching, of course.” Lori knew others who had done the same. “A career academic.”
Geoff inclined his head. “Guilty as charged. What about you? You go straight through?”
Lori smiled, letting a little of her normal flirtation into that smile. “I’m flattered you think I look young enough to have gone straight through. But, no, I took some time off in my midtwenties, did a little traveling. Wanted to make sure this was what I really wanted before I committed to more school. It’s not cheap.”
“It sure isn’t.”
“Then I came back, went for my master’s and then my doctorate. And now I’m done. The world is my oyster, they tell me. And I do like oysters.”
Geoff joined her in another laugh. “I hope you aren’t leaving us right away.”
What an interesting thing for him to say. Lori checked him out again, surreptitiously. Why hadn’t they hung out before? They certainly saw each other enough, on overlapping committees and working on the same branch of campus, but they never sat and talked like this.
“We’ll see,” she said, letting her reply be noncommittal. Lots of things were up in the air right now about her future, and she wasn’t about to divulge anything.
“Tell me about your dissertation. The flyer had me surprised. I didn’t know you were studying sexuality for your PhD.” He curled his fingers over the armrests of the chair, and she watched the motion without consciously choosing to do so.
“Relationship structures, more than sexuality itself,” she corrected. “The sex is secondary.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then stopped and shook his head, laughing to himself.
“What?” she pressed, smiling despite herself. “What were you going to say?”
“It’s inappropriate.” He was still grinning to himself, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
She gestured at the empty office. “Go on. I won’t tell.”
“I was going to say that if sex is secondary, maybe you’re doing something wrong.”
Lori laughed. “Touché.” She crossed her legs a
t the knee, one over the other, and Geoff’s gaze followed the motion. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t look embarrassed. He leaned back slightly, studying her through those glasses. He had that contemplative, thoughtful look, common to many people in academia, like he was analyzing her piece by piece and trying to figure her out.
Instead, he brought the conversation back on topic. “And you studied these relationship structures for your doctorate?”
“Extensively.” She glanced to her left where a bound copy of her dissertation still sat, the copy she hadn’t submitted to the library’s records. She reached over and rested her hand on it, the glossy cover slick beneath her fingers. “My main thesis was about the way polyamory enriches certain relationships, and I wanted to understand why it works for some and not others. The goal wasn’t just to understand polyamory better, but to serve my future work as a relationship therapist.”
“Interesting.” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you think it served that purpose?”
“I hope so.” She stroked her thumb along the edge of the binding. “Nothing groundbreaking, but I did some cross-cultural analysis, studying polyamory in conjunction with underrepresented populations. Different races and genders. I wanted to reach beyond cis white triads, which seem to be the default in current research.”
“Cis white is the default in everything, it seems.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Lori would have raised a glass if she had one. “What about you? What did you study for your dissertation?”
“A comparative analysis of a couple of the African dynasties precolonialism.” He adjusted his glasses. “It’s been a favorite topic of mine since I was a kid.”
Geoff must have been an adorable little kid, and she could see him sitting in a library armchair reading books about precolonial Africa, glasses too large for his face. She smiled at the imagined memory. “And now you get to teach it.”
“Among other things, yes.” He looked up at her bookshelves, scanning the titles in what seemed like an absentminded way. “It seeps into my other classes, even when that’s not the topic. Imperialism is such a fundamental shaping factor in history, it’s easy to treat it as inevitable instead of interrogating that assumption.” He got to his feet to look more closely at some of the spines on her full bookcase. “When you study something in depth, don’t you notice it everywhere?”
Lori watched his body language, the way he leaned forward to read her shelves, his hands clasped behind his back. His body was all lean angles. He was probably thinking about his own research, but in the context of hers, the comment carried different weight.
“All the time,” she answered. “Which, in my line of study, has some serious ramifications.”
One corner of Geoff’s mouth twitched, and he shifted his attention from the bookshelves to her. “Do you want to go get a drink?”
Lori sized him up. He was handsome and brilliant, definitely the type of guy she liked to date. He was also married…but he’d been asking her about her polyamory research. Curiosity alone enticed her to let this play out.
“Were you an undergrad here?” Geoff asked her as they slid into a booth.
“Smith,” she said. “Not far. What about you?”
“Harvard.” He learned to just say it matter-of-factly, rather than like he was apologizing for his Ivy League education.
Lori cracked a grin, which wasn’t the response he was expecting, her white teeth flashing against her deep-red lipstick. “Of course you went to Harvard.” She seemed to be laughing at a joke he didn’t get.
He frowned, trying to parse her response, but she waved a hand and explained, “You’re a bundle of complexity, you know that? I feel like I’m just scratching the surface. What else don’t I know about you? You’ve been teaching here on a PhD since I started my PhD, maybe earlier, and you’re not that much older than I am, so I’m starting to think you’re some supergenius whiz kid. But you also seem to be pretty socially comfortable, so you didn’t live your life inside a library.”
Geoff adjusted his glasses. “I did, in a way. Both my parents are academics. I spent more of my childhood in the library than playing sports.” He headed her off by adding, “I know that’s pretty obvious to look at me.”
She sized him up, leaning back to appraise him, that cheeky smile still teasing at the corners of her lips. “I wasn’t gonna say that. You look like you work out.”
“I do. Thank you,” he answered. She was flirting with him.
A server came to their table to take drink orders. He got a glass of their house red and, to his surprise, Lori ordered chilled sipping tequila, neat.
He must have raised his eyebrows, because she shrugged. “I know it’s a weeknight, but I don’t have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Cheers to that.” He was also in the in-between period when his spring semester responsibilities were done but he hadn’t yet begun to prep for the Bridge Program.
Lori tipped her head to the side, considering him. “Where’s your husband tonight?”
It wasn’t an accusation, but it was valid, especially considering he was sitting in this bar with a beautiful woman when they both knew he was married.
“Patrick has music every Wednesday night. He plays in a band.”
“Cool. What’s he play?”
“Rock violin. He’s a classically trained violinist, and he plays with a folk-classical fusion group.”
Her eyebrows went up more. “Wow. That’s amazing, actually. I love music, especially unusual types.”
“You’d like Patrick. We should all get together sometime, have you two meet up. I’ll bet you would get along great.” He wasn’t really thinking about the ramifications of anything he was saying, just offering it out there, but a tiny voice in the back of his mind was trying to remind him to take things slowly, that he couldn’t know where any of this would lead.
The server returned with their drinks, and Lori took a tiny sip of her cold tequila before sighing. She closed her eyes briefly, lashes black against the golden-brown glow of her cheek. Those lashes would feel like a featherlight touch against his skin, if they were close enough… Geoff dragged himself back to the present and turned his attention to his wineglass.
The wine warmed from his stomach outward, casting a light haze over everything. He didn’t drink much, and the alcohol softened his edges a bit. “If you’re willing,” he began cautiously, “I’d love to hear what interests you about polyamory. At least enough to devote your dissertation to it.”
Lori made a soft contemplative noise and ran her tongue across her top lip, chasing a spare drop of tequila. She swirled the glass in lazy spirals, watching the clear-silver liquid glisten in the low light. “The way people choose to be together has always fascinated me. My mom never remarried after my dad died, but she surrounded herself with a group of women who became like aunts to me and my brother.”
The question rose to Geoff’s lips, but it would be rude and invasive to ask. She answered anyway, as if anticipating. “I don’t know the intimate details of their relationships, nor do I want to, but I know she loves them, maybe as much as she loved my dad. Still loves them. They’re like the Golden Girls down in DC, although a lot younger and, you know, Black. And possibly sleeping together.”
Geoff laughed.
“I learned my experience wasn’t unusual,” she continued. “Most people have ‘found families,’ but they aren’t usually sexual or romantic. So, I started reading up on romantic relationships and family structures, gender identity, sexuality, the whole spectrum. It started as a hobby while I was still at Smith, and I picked up a gender studies minor alongside my double major in English and psychology.”
“You went the academic route, then.” He drank a little more wine. “The intellectual approach.”
“It’s how I’ve always confronted things I want to understand. I read about them, rather than doing them.” Lori smiled, that cheeky, flirtatious grin again. “Although I have to admit, I think a practical
approach would have saved me a little more time, and a lot of money.”
Geoff raised his eyebrows. “You’re not with anyone right now?”
“Totally single.” Lori sipped the tequila again, a tiny bit, savoring the drink. “It’s ironic.”
“And would you get into a relationship like that, after all your studies?”
“I don’t know.” She tipped back a bit more tequila and hissed slightly. “Too much. It’s smooth, but it’s got a burn on the back end.” She set the glass on the table. “The more I talk about it, the more I feel like it’s inevitable for me in some ways. I can’t see myself settling down with one person forever. I’ve never seen that. Multiple partners, multiple relationships, I’m drawn to that. But I’ve studied it so long, I don’t know if I’m drawn to it because of sample bias, or because it’s my natural inclination. Or,” she hesitated before continuing, “I’m drawn to it because I feel like it’s less commitment somehow.”
“It seems like more, to me.” Geoff couldn’t see how being in a relationship with more than one person would protect one’s heart; wasn’t there more potential for heartbreak?
“I know, that’s what the studies show, but maybe it’s just because it’s still in the abstract, for me.” She made a face. “I talk, and I talk, and I don’t get invested. It’s all academic. I provide a sounding board for all kinds of relationships, helping them communicate and get through their problems, and then I detach and go home alone.” Her laugh sounded bitter. “Listen to me. I’m rambling on. What about you?” Raising her glass, she gestured toward him. “You’re married. How long? How did you decide this was for you?”
There were so many ways to tell this story. Geoff sped through the timeline, dates and key moments flashing through his mind. “We met almost ten years ago. I was doing my master’s degree here at the university, and Patrick was going for his bachelor’s. He was actually a little older than me, got started in school late. We were roommates, and then we started dating, and we fell in love. We’ve been married for six years now. Just had our anniversary last month.” That was the shortest version he could imagine, the one that left out the details but covered the gist.