by Elia Winters
“And he’s the one for you. You for him. The two of you for each other.” She waved her hand back and forth, like drawing a line between him and imaginary Patrick.
“Yes,” he said, but it came out more hesitant than he had expected. And then the words tumbled out as though he’d been planning to say them. “Patrick is polyamorous.”
“Oh.” Lori blinked, then narrowed her eyes in scrutiny. “And you’re not.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“I don’t know.” He tried the words out, leaning forward to fold his arms on the table. “I haven’t been.” While he was opening up, he might as well open up a bit more. “I’ve known I was bi since high school, but Patrick was my first real relationship. Pretty focused on school and school alone until well into my twenties.”
A little more tequila, another swirl of the glass. Something like suspicion darkened Lori’s eyes. “Is he asking you to open your marriage?”
“Definitely not.” Geoff knew he was the one pushing, but it was for both their own good. “But I think maybe we’d be better off. If he’s polyamorous, I shouldn’t be forcing him to be monogamous, right? I should let him be how he is.”
Lori let out a long sigh, a little louder than she probably would have without the tequila. “This isn’t like keeping a wild tiger in a cage, Geoff. I don’t know if polyamory is socialized or innate, people are still debating it, but that wasn’t my research focus. The point is, if he’s happy with you, then he’s happy with you. If nothing’s broken, why change it?”
Because there must be something else.
The curiosity, the intangible itch beneath his skin, inside his mind, pushed him in that direction. He didn’t understand it, but he knew, looking at Lori across the table, that he wanted something else. He could envision Patrick with her, kissing his way down the long, soft stretch of her stomach, and his body burned hot all over at the mere thought.
“Can’t I want something different without anything being broken?”
Lori rested her chin on her hand again. As she sipped the tequila, her movements became lazier, more fluid, and maybe she was a little buzzed by now. “Why did you ask me for this drink, Geoff?”
Geoff didn’t shy away. He studied her, from her cloud of black spiral curls to the curve of her cheekbones, her full red lips, her eyes dark and gold-flecked and too smart for him to think he was fooling her one bit. “I think my husband would like you.”
Lori smiled, first a thin sliver, and then an openmouthed laugh that echoed in the quiet bar. “Geoffrey Robinson, you goddamned matchmaker.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Not even a matchmaker. You’re a pimp, is that it? Finding some beautiful woman for your husband to fuck?” She tossed back the last of the tequila and set her glass down hard. Her eyes were sharp, but she was still smiling. “Is that what you’re doing? Does he know you’re doing this?”
“I’m not.” His protest sounded hollow, and he didn’t even really understand what he was doing here, but her laughter and irritation combined into something smooth and rich and intoxicating, more of a drug than the wine in his hand. “I’m not doing anything. I would never—I’m not making decisions for you, I just thought maybe, if you were interested in meeting, you might hit it off, get to know each other…” He didn’t know where to go with that sentence.
Lori snorted. “Well, if anyone wants to ‘get to know’ me, in the biblical sense or otherwise, it’s going to take more than some tequila in the U-Bar.” She tossed some cash on the table and slid out of the booth, steady on her feet. Maybe she wasn’t affected by the tequila at all and had just let her guard down, because she seemed completely sober right now. She turned to go, then paused, hovering near the table while her expression flicked from amused to contemplative. Then she turned back, put one hand flat on the table’s surface and leaned into him. He leaned back reflexively as she invaded his space.
“It would take at least dinner.” With a wink, she turned and left the bar.
4
Oh, fuck, what had she done? Lori staggered back to her office in a daze, any residual buzz from the tequila wearing off in the coolness of the spring night and the realization of her own actions. She’d done more than flirt; she’d practically propositioned Geoff in the bar. No, that wasn’t right. He had propositioned her. Hadn’t he? Her mind was still swimming, and it wasn’t the booze. She climbed the darkened stairs to the second floor. The building’s emptiness echoed around her the way her thoughts echoed in her head. With the air-conditioning system already off for the night, the stale air pressed against her overheated skin like an itchy blanket. Shoes clicking on the floor, she made her way down the hall to her office at the far end, still trying to make sense of everything.
Geoff definitely wanted to either take her to bed, or have his husband take her to bed. This might be a hotwife thing… Well, except with husbands, but she wasn’t sure if there was a specific term for that. The way he looked at her, without any shyness or hesitation, was like he was examining a particularly interesting history book. She did not mind that whatsoever.
She flicked on the light to her office and closed the door behind her, isolating herself even further. The campus was mostly dark outside her window, the lights turned off in most of the buildings she could see, only amber streetlights illuminating bare sidewalk. Maybe Geoff was still sitting there in the booth, contemplating what she’d said as she left. Maybe he’d gone back to his own office to finish up his work. Maybe he was driving home now to fuck his husband.
A twitch of something like envy closed her throat for a moment as she sank into her desk chair. Was it envy for Patrick, Geoff, or both of them? Or maybe this was something else, that curiosity that always drove her into new adventures, the curiosity that sometimes got her into trouble. After all, what would it hurt?
A lot, her logical brain reminded her, the part of her brain that wasn’t suffused with low-grade lust like smoldering coals. It was true. She’d talked to enough people, both in her initial research and through the polyamory discussion group she’d founded, to know that shaking up an established relationship was fraught with complications.
This wasn’t necessarily about a relationship, though. For every detailed discussion of polyamory, there was also a happily married couple taking a third person to bed for everyone’s fun. Threesomes, foursomes, moresomes, none of these had to involve feelings, the same way two people could fuck for fun without the world coming to an end. And damn, she had certainly gone a long time without having anyone to fuck, for fun or otherwise. Her ridiculous schedule of doctoral research, teaching, writing for the newspaper, and doing clinical hours with a relationship therapist didn’t leave much time for anything other than light socializing with friends. But now, she’d earned her degree and quit the newspaper. Maybe she had time for a fling.
She didn’t know anything about Patrick, Geoff’s husband. Geoff was a stone-cold fox, so Patrick was probably equally beautiful. There was something so appealing about Geoff, that quiet confidence and unashamed nerdiness. Damn, she wanted to see what kind of body lay beneath those unassuming dress shirts and slacks.
Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, letting her hands rub slow circles on her thighs through the light fabric of her dress. Geoff had said Patrick was his first real relationship, and that could mean any number of things. It might mean he’d never taken anyone else to bed before. The thought tantalized, settling into her brain like a small spark of something deliciously dirty. He might never have fucked a woman before, at least. She might be the first.
It wasn’t like he was a virgin; he had likely been having some very filthy sex with his husband for a decade now, and virginity was a ridiculous concept anyway. Regardless, virgins weren’t normally Lori’s kink—someone’s past sexual experience was far less interesting than the attention they paid to her and to making sure they had a good time together. However, she could not deny the appeal of teaching someone something new in bed. Geo
ff would be an eager student. He would want to learn her body, all its unique folds and dips and angles, learn them with his hands and—oh—with his mouth as well.
Her breath came faster. She shouldn’t even be thinking this. If anything, this was about Geoff’s husband, who was apparently the source of Geoff’s questioning. But her thoughts circled back to Geoff, always Geoff. How could he not be involved, if they were headed in this direction? Geoff was an intellectual, an academic for his entire life, and he would want to learn to take her apart with precision. He would approach sex like deciphering an obscure primary source, methodical and meticulous and breathtakingly thorough.
She bit her lip, forcing her eyes open. She was in her office. This was her desk chair, the place where she worked, her perfectly organized sanctuary. Having these kinds of thoughts here was a terrible idea—and a decadent one.
But no one was here. Whatever adrenaline pumped through her system at the idea of getting caught, her logical mind knew no one else was in the building, and the temptation was safe enough for her to reach into her purse and pull out the cloth case she always kept in there. Having a best friend who owned a sex toy shop came in handy when she wanted only the highest quality devices. The Tango was a small, powerful vibrator, quiet and discreet and perfect for moments like this. Lori tucked it up beneath her dress, beneath her panties, nestling the angled tip against her clit. Then, she closed her legs to hold the vibe snugly in place, and pressed the button at the base to turn it on.
Sensation raced through her nerves at the contact, and she gripped the arms of her chair, exhaling hard. Shit, she had forgotten how strong that tiny vibe was. Maybe the whole situation was adding to her arousal, chasing an orgasm in her office at work and hoping no one came by to catch her. Adrenaline was a powerful aphrodisiac. She closed her eyes again, letting her attention drift to the current of pleasure and then back to thoughts of Geoff. His hands, his mouth, his dick pressing inside her. She clenched around nothing, muscles fluttering. Fuck, she was going to come, just like this, the tiny vibe carrying her over the edge. Lori put her head back, throat closing even as her mouth fell open, and gave in to the spasms of climax.
She fumbled the vibe off with shaky hands and looked around in reflex. No one was there. No one had seen her, nor would anyone see her; she was alone with a weirdly pleasant undercurrent of having done something “wrong” and gotten away with it. In the clear light after her arousal, the thoughts of why she should absolutely not pursue anything with Geoff and Patrick came seeping back into her mind. This train of thought was ridiculous. She didn’t know them, didn’t know their marriage stability, didn’t know what a threesome—or partner swapping, or whatever this proposition was—would do to their dynamic. She was not about to be the woman who broke hearts over a few moments of pleasure and an orgasm. With a collection of vibrators at her disposal and no shortage of men available if she wanted to start swiping right, she could get off without heartbreak.
Her curiosity, though, would not be sated that way, and she’d never been one to deny her curiosity.
Maybe their marriage really was solid. Maybe she could dip her toe into this pond without anyone getting hurt. People had threesomes all the time, right? Perhaps she could just…see what happened. And maybe these wonderings were moot. Geoff might never bring it up again after their interaction tonight.
Lori shifted in her chair and looked back out her window at the darkened campus. Somewhere out there, Geoff was likely headed home by now. She should head home as well.
Sitting in the expansive front window, morning light spilling across the hardwood floors of their condo, Patrick rested his chin on his violin. He drew his bow across the open strings, long, smooth strokes as he always did to warm up before playing. The fluid movements settled something in his mind, notes vibrating through his body like he was a struck tuning fork. From here, he transitioned into one of his favorite pieces, “Lark Ascending,” the notes ringing from memory due to the hundreds—thousands?—of times he’d played it. His gaze went soft, letting muscle memory carry him through the opening sequence that climbed aloft like the bird for which it was named.
Geoff joined him, taking a seat in the corner armchair of their breakfast nook. He carried a cup of coffee and his morning bowl of granola and yogurt. Patrick continued to play, working his way from the solo through the rest of the piece, enjoying their contemplative silence together. Geoff would never interrupt his music for anything short of an emergency, just like Patrick would never interrupt Geoff when he was deep into one of his history podcasts. Their condo filled with warm violin music, notes resonating and lingering in the air. For a moment, he was back at Juilliard, sitting on the steps outside Lincoln Center, playing violin on the first warm day of spring. His heart ached for it sometimes, the youthful exuberance and optimism of his late teens, when he was going to make a living on music and dreams.
He let the final notes fade away along with the memory. Time marched on.
“Good morning.” Patrick set the violin down in his lap. “How’d you sleep last night?” Geoff had been out later than usual and had mentioned getting a drink with a colleague but had been pretty quiet on the subject altogether before bed.
“Restless.” Geoff nodded to his violin. “How did rehearsal go?”
“Good. We’ve got a gig coming up soon, so we’re mostly focusing on that. It’s nice to get some classical in after all folk last night.”
Geoff made a thoughtful noise and sipped his coffee. “What’s on your schedule for today?”
Patrick listed it off. “I’m giving a lesson at eleven and another at one, then I was going to pick up groceries. What about you?”
“I’ve got a team meeting at noon, and I’m probably going to go in a little before that and get some work done for my Bridge Program classes. I’m also trying to finish up this paper…” He went on, describing the paper, and Patrick watched his mannerisms as much as he listened to his words. Geoff was more agitated than usual. Something was sharper about his movements, his posture more upright, a tension radiating through his body. Patrick set his violin down in its case with the bow and got to his feet, walking around behind Geoff, who paused midsentence as Patrick began to rub his shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Geoff asked, interrupting himself.
“I’m giving you a massage. You look tense.”
Geoff stopped his story and eased into the contact, relaxing only minutely. Patrick brushed a thumb across the back of his husband’s neck and then kissed the top of his head gently in his nest of tight curls. “You’re good to me,” Geoff said at last, as Patrick went back to his chair.
“It’s why you keep me around.” Patrick gave him a broad smile. “Is there more of that coffee in the kitchen?”
“I’m keeping it warm for you.”
Patrick returned a few minutes later to see Geoff still sitting in his chair, staring out the window. Normally, he’d have moved onto technology of some kind by now: he would either be surfing a website or reading a book on his Kindle, not just sitting and staring.
“What’s really going on with you?” Patrick asked. Better to approach these things directly.
Geoff licked his lips. “You know how back when we were at the pub last week, I was telling you about that woman I worked with, who was having a party upstairs? Lori?” When Patrick nodded, he continued. “I went for a drink with her last night.”
“Oh, yeah, you said you had a good time.” Patrick leaned back in his chair.
“I think you should meet her.” Geoff looked over at him. “I think we should have her over for dinner this weekend.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Okay.” There was more to this story, probably. “Is this me not having enough friends or something? Because we both know that’s not true.”
“No, you have tons of friends. Way more than me. I just think you would like her. You should get to know her.” Geoff hesitated, and then pushed forward. “She did her doctoral dissertation on po
lyamory.”
“So, you think we’d have some things to talk about because I used to be polyam?” Patrick stroked his beard, trying to figure out what was behind these comments. Geoff averted his eyes once, like he did when he felt guilty, and Patrick suddenly understood. “Oh. No.” Patrick folded his arms. “Not like that, Geoff.”
“Why not?” Geoff turned to face him. “It’s perfect. She’s your type. She’s crazy smart, she’s into music, and she’s bold, with a great sense of humor. And she’s…well, she’s gorgeous, she’s got this beautiful soft brown skin and these dark eyes…” He smiled to himself like he was picturing her.
Patrick had to smile as well. “Geoff, I’m happy with you. I don’t need to sleep with someone else. I don’t need to meet anyone else. Is that why you went out for drinks with her last night? You sizing her up for me? I don’t need a pimp, babe.”
Geoff set his lips in a thin line. “I don’t know why people keep saying that. She accused me of the same thing last night.”
“You fucking told her?” He probably shouldn’t laugh, but there were only two ways to respond to this: laughter and anger. “What did she say? I’m surprised she didn’t punch you in the face.”
“No, she kind of reacted like you did, but then she…” He squinted, like he was trying to reason through something. “She said basically if I wanted to get her into bed, I had to buy her dinner first.”
Patrick snorted. He didn’t know Lori yet, but secretly, he kind of liked her a little just from that. “I can’t believe you. What’s gotten into you lately? Haven’t I been showing you I love you enough? Have I been acting like I want more?”
“It’s not that. You’ve been great. You’re always great to me.” Geoff pressed his hands down onto his slacks, rubbing them in small arcs back and forth. “I feel like there should be more for you. It doesn’t have to be her, I don’t even know if she’d want to, but maybe someone? You shouldn’t have to settle for just me.”