It was about three months after I ended my relationship with Hannah that I found myself on her couch, nibbling pizza and sipping drinks while we caught up, a football game quietly playing on the tv, the home team losing immensely. A cold, freezing rain fell outside; it was that rain that convinced us to change our plan to go out to dinner, and it was that rain that offered me the convenient excuse to not flee.
You see, Hannah and I had been engaged in an amazing affair. The sex was amazing, but more than that, we got along incredibly well. We were compatible in every important way, talking every day when we couldn't see each other, and unable to keep our hands off each other when we were together. We openly and freely shared our most deviant, perverted fantasies without judgement, and were both eager to make every fantasy come true.
Perhaps my wife was sensing the strength of our connection when she started talking about ending our arrangement... perhaps she sensed a threat. Our open marriage, successfully implemented and enjoyed for years, had come with stipulations, one of which was that other relationships were to be physical only, and not emotional, not romantic. That had never been a problem before.
So I was faced with a tough choice: go behind my wife's back, which I'd never done before, or end things with Hannah. I chose the latter, which wasn't well received, and months went by without any contact. On more than one occasion I had a message typed out to her ready to be sent, only to delete it, not wanting to lead her on or cause conflict.
After nearly three months of silence, she reached out to me, sending a tentative, chaste message. We gradually started talking as friends, both missing that daily communication. We decided together that a friendship wouldn't be inappropriate, that we could keep each other from crossing any lines. No sex... no naughtiness... definitely no genital contact; nothing that I wouldn't do with my other friends. If we could keep that separation, then we could rekindle that friendship. To be safe, we would get together in public, not giving us the chance to give into temptation. But then the weather forecast changed, forcing us to cancel our plans and stay in, and here we were, sitting on the couch in her apartment, doing our best to keep a buffer between us.
I was relieved when she opened the door modestly dressed in jeans and a sweater, her long, curly brown hair pulled back. The v-neck did show a good amount of cleavage, but that was to be expected with her; if her intent was really to seduce, she'd likely be wearing just a little black dress and no bra. When she moved or tugged at the sweater, the edges of the orange lace bra underneath became impossible not to notice. I'm sure she caught me peeking, in spite of myself.
We did our best to limit physical contact; there was the hug at the door, and a few friendly arm touches. But the devil on my shoulder screaming at me to jump on her was ignored, with some difficulty. A few times she was distracted by the beeping of her phone, needing to pause the conversation while she typed out a response. At one point, she excused herself to the other room, needing to take a call. I heard faint conversation, but couldn't make out any words. After a few minutes of quiet, I started to wonder if she was going to come back to me naked, or wearing something from her lingerie drawer that I had enjoyed in the past. I started to think about how I would respond. Could I resist? The bulge growing in my pants told me that I couldn't...
But she came back to the couch dressed as before, sitting next to me (albeit a little closer than before) slightly flushed and with a familiar smile on her face. Our conversation continued as before, catching up on work and life and relationships in general. We both flirted until we caught ourselves and pulled back. I'm sure she noticed my arousal, and I certainly noticed her squirming a few times.
The conversation was finally interrupted by a buzz at the door. She quickly got up and, without using the intercom, pushed the button to open the door downstairs and let who ever it was into the building. She stood at the door and silently smiled. I looked back over my shoulder toward her, puzzled.
"Expecting someone?" I asked.
She didn't respond, just held up a hand to signal me that an answer would come soon.
There was a knock at the door and she opened it. A man and woman were let in, both still shaking water off their coats. She let them in and closed the door behind them, greeting them warmly. Turning toward me, she said "Amy and John, that's Jason." They both nodded or waived toward me, and I quietly stood from the couch and did the same for them. "You two can go to the bedroom," she added to them, motioning down the hall in the opposite direction. "I'll be there in a minute."
They hung up their coats by the door and disappeared down the hall. Hannah made her way over to me, standing in front of me and taking both of my hands in hers. She intertwined her fingers in mine and gently, nervously massaged my hands with her thumbs.
"So, sorry to put you on the spot like this, but I'm going to go to my bedroom and have sex with them. You have three options. You can say goodnight to me now, go home, and we can try to get together again soon. Or, you can get comfortable in the chair in the corner of my bedroom and watch. Or you can join us. Amy and John are ok with whatever you decide. I don't want to pressure you to do anything your wife wouldn't approve of, so no matter what you choose, no worries."
