by Kris Ripper
They stood outside the door. Holding Chinese food containers.
Keith slipped past me. “Sorry. We called in the order, but they were closing so we had to go fast.”
“It’s entirely all right.” I felt myself start to slip into detachment, and fought to stay present. Chinese on my dishes. They’d think I was a fool for setting everything up like that, of course. It would be awkward and we’d all pretend it wasn’t. They’d probably imagined us hanging out in a comfy living room, with a movie on the television.
I didn’t have a television. I had a monitor set up with a cable I could plug into my laptop when I wished to watch something. I could do that. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it.
With a growing sense of dread and disillusionment, I led them up the stairs and, with only the slightest hesitation, into the apartment.
“Oh damn,” Josh said. “This place is perfectly you. I love it.”
“I love this couch.” Keith ran a hand along the rounded wood scrollwork at the top edge. “I would so rock this, except it’d clash with all Josh’s minimalist stuff.”
“I’m not into minimalism, I just like clean lines.”
Keith laughed. “That’s kind of what minimalism is, right? Oh, you have a dining room table.”
My shame on display; now they would, in a flummoxed-but-polite sort of way, realize I had completely gone in the wrong direction for this dinner.
They didn’t.
They set the food on the table and turned to look at me, where I stood, frozen, right inside the front door.
“You haven’t lit the candles yet?” Josh asked. “May I?”
I’d put out my mother’s old silver candle holders on a whim, thinking they’d like the story of the wedding gift, and how once during an argument my parents had been so serious about divorcing that they’d begun dividing their possessions and snagged on the candlesticks. Dad had demanded they split them evenly, and Mom had told him he was an idiot, that there was no use having only two candle holders for an entire table.
“I’ll light them.” It bought me a minute to turn away, rustle for a lighter in the kitchen, compose myself.
“This is really nice, Cameron,” Keith said. “Thank you. Thanks for letting us come over.”
I forced my voice to be relaxed, casual. “Of course. Though there’s a terrible imbalance. You’ve now bought me dinner twice.”
“You did a nice thing for QYP. We appreciate it.”
Josh cleared his throat. “Among other things we’ll get to in a little while. We’re not here tonight because of the center. And we didn’t buy you dinner for any reason other than we wanted to.”
It couldn’t stand. I’d be thinking about how ridiculous I was all night. I turned back to them, lighter in hand, prepared to fall on my sword. Or, as it happened, my good china. “I apologize if I—if all this seems terribly formal. It’s really the only method I have for entertaining besides standing in the kitchen, eating over the counter.”
“Aw, Cam, this is perfect,” Josh said. “You have no idea how perfect.”
He wasn’t making fun of me. He was serious. I glanced at Keith, who nodded, blushing faintly. “You’ll see,” he added. “Let’s eat something.”
Serving take-away Chinese on good dishes seemed suddenly less ludicrous. The restaurant was a few blocks away, and I ate there often enough to find its food comforting and familiar, which steadied my nerves some. We talked some about the movie. I asked after Merin, who had apparently decided to go back to his parents’ house after spending the summer with various friends. But that topic seemed to make Josh angry and Keith sad, so we steered away.
“That was damn good.” Josh pushed away from the table a little, surveying our empty containers and plates. “We forgot dessert.”
Keith shook his head. “God, I doubt I could eat dessert. I’m stuffed. What about you, Cam?”
“I’m stuffed too. Thank you again, both of you. That was delicious.” I began to gather our garbage. Keith rose to take our dishes to the sink.
Josh remained seated, clearly deep in thought.
Since I wasn’t sure what else to do, I returned to my own seat while Keith was still in the kitchen. Josh looked at me, somewhat unnervingly, and I could only blink back at him.
He glanced over at the sink. “Keith.”
“I know. I’m coming. I just started freaking out.”
“Babe. Don’t freak out.”
“I’m trying not to.”
Clearly I didn’t know whatever they were talking about, so I arranged my expression into something suitably bland and waited.
“I’m totally blaming you if this fucks everything up,” Keith mumbled, taking his seat again.
Rectangular table; I sat on one short end, and they sat across from each other closest to me, leaving part of the table empty. I wasn’t sure which one of them I should be looking at, so instead I studied the candles and kept both of them at the edges of my vision.
After a hesitation, Josh said, “No, you’re right. This is pretty hard. Which is why we did it drunk last time.”
“Don’t remind me about last time.”
“Sorry.” Josh cleared his throat. “Okay. It’s fine. So, Cam, uh, we wanted to talk to you. And if anything I say makes you uncomfortable or you want to end the discussion, you can tell us, and we’ll talk about something else. It’s important that you understand your comfort is really important. At all stages.”
I raised my eyebrows a little, hoping I appeared detached and intrigued, ignoring my heart, which had kicked up into a jig.
He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat again. “And, uh, so, yeah. Man. Seriously, this was so much easier when I was drunk.”
“We want you to play with us,” Keith said. “In a kinky way. You don’t have to have sex with us, like that’s not really what we’re asking. But we like you, and trust you, and you seem to like us, and I feel safe with you, and I have no idea how to stop talking now that I’ve started except please don’t laugh.” He swallowed, Adam’s apple jumping in his throat. “Please.”
“I’m not laughing.” I could say that much. With all the certainty in the world. Nothing here was funny. We want you to play with us. In a kinky way.
I forced myself to inhale. Then exhale. The candles flickered, then stilled.
Josh laughed. Then covered his mouth. “Oh shit. Sorry. Keith’s right.”
Keith threw a cloth napkin at him. “Oh my god, you’re freaking out! You said you wouldn’t freak out!”
“Only a little, I swear.” He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “I’m back.”
“Ha. I love that you’re the one who’s wigging right now.”
“Hush, babe. I’m not wigging.” Josh leaned his forearms on the table, looking at me. “We’re kinky. Keith likes to be dominated and I love dominating him. He’s always wanted to have two guys at once—”
“What, I’m the only one?”
“We’ve always wanted to include a third guy,” Josh continued in the next breath, “but the one time we tried backfired on us pretty hard.”
Keith shuddered. “So embarrassing. And we didn’t even get to the embarrassing stuff.”
“How did it backfire?” I asked, and my voice sounded totally and completely normal. I was impressed. They probably couldn’t tell my brain was rapidly trying to reconcile this conversation with my projections about dinner and failing. And my heart, my heart was pounding.
Everything was still in color. These were the kinds of anticipatory nerves I never felt. No dread attached. No feelings of inadequacy.
“We were drunk,” Keith said. “Really drunk. We tried to make it into kind of a joke so we wouldn’t scare away the guy we were hitting on, but he freaked.”
Josh shook his head. “And he was a stranger. We thought it would be easier if we picked someone up and proposed a scene, like it’d be less risk, but it turns out asking strangers if they want to have a kinky three-way isn’t exactly s
imple as A-B-C.”
“Surely you picked the wrong stranger,” I said.
He grinned. “Right?”
Keith wasn’t smiling. He sat rigidly in his chair as if braced for a blow. “You can tell us if you’re not interested.”
“Don’t put him on the spot, babe. Give him a minute.”
“I really need this resolved. Also, I’m sweating through my clothes right now.”
Silence. It was my turn to speak, on the spot or not. “I’m a little shocked. But not— I’m not laughing at you. And I . . . have no idea what we’re really talking about, but I like both of you very much.” There. That sounded neutral. Somewhat.
Keith exhaled. “Okay. He’s not kicking us out, Josh.”
“I never thought he would. You worry too much.”
“Last time the guy ran for the door like we were going to kill him.”
“This is nothing like last time. Though I could seriously use a drink.”
“I have wine,” I offered.
They looked at each other.
“I’m not saying we get sloshed.” Keith shrugged. “But we already decided we’re not doing anything tonight, and as long as we’re just talking . . .”
“Wine would be really welcome,” Josh said.
“Red okay?”
“Sure.”
I brought down a bottle of pinot noir, relatively local vintage (Carneros region, which I mentally placed in Napa, or possibly Sonoma), and three glasses.
“Thanks.” Keith took his as if it were Communion wine and he were praying.
Josh nodded, holding my gaze until I sat down again. “On a scale of totally calm to freaking out, where are you right now?”
“Somewhere in the middle. I’m not freaking out. I’m also not entirely sure what we’re discussing.”
“Right. Keith?”
“Yeah. Uh. I’m going to drink and you’re going to talk.”
“Got it.” Josh didn’t even sip his wine. “Sometimes I tie Keith to the bed and whip him. Or I have him bend over for my belt. We have a cane, but we don’t use it. He likes paddles, but he’s not huge into crops. We use a belt and my hands more than anything.”
“Oh my god, Josh.” Keith rubbed his eyes. “I need way more wine than this.”
Josh’s gaze remained unrelentingly on me. “He’s a little ashamed, but I’m not. If you played with us, you’d have to understand that your role would be to do everything Keith wants exactly how he wants it. Sometimes I push him, and you might see that, but we’ve been together for a long time, so I can take him places he’s not sure he wants to go. But you would do whatever he wants, exactly how he wants it.”
“Unless you were uncomfortable,” Keith added.
“Right, yeah. Obviously not if you were uncomfortable. I forgot that part.”
“It’s the most important part, though.” Keith drained most of his glass and put it down before turning to me. “It’s the most important part. If you’re uncomfortable—I mean, not because it’s weird, but like really uncomfortable—I can’t feel safe, and then the scene doesn’t work.”
Josh nodded. “Everyone needs to feel safe.”
They looked at me.
My turn. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. I couldn’t run any of what they were saying like a sequence of scenes, something I could understand. Right now their words had no context, no pictures. “And the role you’d want me to play is what, exactly?”
“We’re not talking about sex,” Josh said. “At least, not right now. We’d have you over, and I’d probably demonstrate some things, and have you practice if you’ve never done it before. And if we all wanted to try it for real, you’d probably get to practice on Keith after that.”
Practice on Keith. Josh was the only person sitting at my table who wasn’t blushing.
“I see.”
“You don’t have to,” Keith murmured. “I know this is weird, and we totally blindsided you, but you don’t have to. Just—will you stay friends with us anyway?”
The candles flickered again, attracting my attention. For a moment I imagined them flickering across many frames, a candlelit montage tying this night to a succession of future nights, other times the three of us would sit around my table. I could hardly believe there was anything they could ever say that would jeopardize our friendship, surely strengthened by this night.
I swallowed. “I didn’t say no. I’m not even close to saying no. If—if both of you want this, I’d like to try, though you should be aware I don’t have any experience with this sort of thing.”
“Oh.” Keith exhaled and drained the rest of his wine. “Oh good.”
Josh shot him a look across the table, then said, “Can we sit on the couch? I’d like to stretch my legs.”
“Of course.” I brought the wine down to the living room and took the armchair. It seemed obvious after a moment that Josh didn’t really need to stretch his legs; he put both of their glasses on the coffee table, then sat down beside Keith, pulling him until his head was pillowed on one of Josh’s thighs.
Josh looked down at him. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah. I mean yeah, of course, this is the best outcome. But I got so ready for all the other outcomes that I’m having trouble adjusting.” He curled in a little more, and Josh rested a hand on his side. “Thanks, Cam. For not laughing at me.”
“Us,” Josh murmured.
“I know, but it feels a lot like me. It was definitely me last time.”
I couldn’t tell, looking at Josh’s face, if he agreed or disagreed.
“We thought this would be hard to say to someone we knew, to a friend,” Josh explained. “But the flip side is that when you say it to someone who doesn’t know you, or care, they don’t necessarily take it seriously. We only tried once, and it was over a year ago, but the sting lasted a long time.”
Keith shuddered. “You say that like I don’t still feel it.”
“I’m sorry. That was my fault.”
“It was both of our faults, but that doesn’t actually help anything.”
“Can you tell me more?” I asked, watching the way Josh’s fingers dragged over Keith’s arm. The way Keith seemed so at home lying beside him. “I don’t think I’ve ever done anything kinky in my whole life.”
“I always knew I was into it,” Josh said. “Like every now and then there’d be an episode of a TV show that had a dominatrix or something, and I’d watch like there was gonna be a test later, sitting there trying not to let anyone know that I was picturing myself standing over some tied-up man.”
“I avoided those episodes.” Keith turned, so I could see his face. “Because I knew that was the sort of thing I wanted, and I couldn’t let myself think about it. I thought it was weak, you know? I do better now. Josh was right, before. You’d be pretty much at my mercy, Cam.” He flashed a smile, not full up with cheekiness, but at least I could see it peeking through.
“I don’t object to that.” Far from it. My body was thrumming, as if my blood were a rising tide.
His mouth opened, almost a silent “Hah,” I considered encouraging.
“We talked about it before we started dating, though,” Josh said.
“Yeah, I went over to Josh’s place one time and kind of . . . stumbled onto a flogger he’d left out.”
Josh held up his hands. “‘Left out’ in the sense that it was in my bedroom and you were snooping.”
“Maybe a little. Anyway, it completely freaked me out and totally turned me on and I couldn’t even put words together to ask him about it.”
“Which he didn’t need to, because I saw that he’d seen. And I guess I hoped he was interested, though at first I thought the sheltered white boy was disgusted instead.”
Keith caressed Josh’s knee. “I could never be disgusted by you. Anyway, we started talking, and Josh had done all these things I’d only imagined doing, but he didn’t treat them like they were sick and wrong.”
“I hadn’t done that much stuff. An
d it wasn’t—” Josh paused. “There’s stuff you do with people for fun. Like I’d had the flogger out because I’d been with a guy who wanted to try it. But he hadn’t been into it that much. We tried it, he shrugged, we fucked, he left. It’s a whole different thing when it’s not casual.”
“Would it be casual with me?” I asked.
Keith shook his head, drawing Josh’s attention, making him swallow whatever he was about to say. “It would have been casual with the guy who laughed when he thought we were joking and ran like hell when he realized we were serious. But I don’t think casual really does it for me that much.”
The room felt heavy all of a sudden. Not oppressive, just dense.
I waved a hand in the direction of the dining table. “If it helps, I don’t think I’m all that into casual myself.”
“It helps,” he said, without any levity at all.
All of this was interesting. But none of it was giving me anything I could sink my teeth into. Nothing I could see. “So what . . . what are we really talking about? Can I ask that? I have a— I like to be able to picture things before they happen. It helps when I’m doing something new or different. Not that— I mean, if you didn’t want to say—”
“All right, you’re never negotiating on your own, Cam.” Josh ran his fingers through Keith’s hair. “You should always demand specifics if you want them. Especially in the beginning.”
“I only meant I didn’t want to impose—”
“We don’t do the same thing all the time, but your role would be to defer to me, and obey Keith, though sometimes you’ll do that through me.”
“But we’re not into, like, silent, unchallenged dominance,” Keith added. “Like at all. We talk about everything new a lot. The first time you come over—if you want to—we might just talk and look at stuff, if that’s what worked for us. And Josh was right, before. He, uh, he sometimes pushes me more than I think I want to be pushed, but that’s not what we’re asking from you.”
I had so many questions. But I didn’t know if I could ask them. Or even if I wanted to, really. I hated feeling interrogated, and the volume of questions I had seemed to lend itself to interrogation.