In my early twenties, as an emerging self-sufficient being, I had two warring proclivities: I wanted to have detached, adventurous sex of a variety of natures and partners; and I wanted to date my friend Max, who was a friendly but sardonic boy-next-door type with a tendency to wade in the role of brother-figure. We first got close while at university after knowing each other peripherally as kids. The appeal of him might have been that I always felt safe in his presence, but I so detested craving that safety. I wanted to fuck, not cozy up with my buddy. I wanted my cake and to eat it too, to use a pointedly sexual phrase.
For much of my early adulthood, I resolved to suss out my instincts, and I dated around while assuming Max and I would connect organically at some point. The problem was having to watch him fall in and out of love with other girls, while also gauging his reactions to my own romps. We had few secrets between us, but the spark we both felt remained unspoken. What I hadn't yet learned is that an organic connection can be coaxed. Rachel taught me that. It's almost like she came back into my life with the express purpose of sharing that crucial lesson.
I dated a string of hot men, most of whom were idiots or assholes or both. Max was always intent to find the easiest reason to loathe them openly, and even in the rare case of a decent man, he dug deep and aired his misgivings. This got to be exhausting and so I grew to withhold details of my personal involvements.
Especially Richard, who began as a reliable office fuck-buddy and became my boss. At that point, our meet-ups only occurred when he texted me first. It didn't feel like there was a power imbalance at play because when we first hooked up we were peers. But of course there was. And when I was passed up for a promotion in favour of a restructuring that put Richard at the executive level and netted him a seven-figure salary, it was suddenly clear.
I got a bit depressed then, but because I'd kept Max in the dark about that relationship (and especially didn't need his I told you so now), I couldn't turn to my friend for support.
So for a while I gave in to the accepted treatment of me. I showed up, on call, to fuck Richard at his showy new mansion. He was a good lay, granted - a rugged, muscular physique and a cock like a cricket bat. Plus he actually loved to eat pussy, which might have been about his need to impress, but whatever, I benefited.
Gradually the imbalance showed during my visits. Foolishly, I would offer to cook for him, and that evolved into me keeping his house tidy. Before I knew it, I was acting as his personal open-legged assistant. And without Max to comfort me, I only sank lower. A particularly low point was when Richard asked me to make his bed and myself scarce because he had a date coming over. He texted me to come back over later that night - and I went.
Not to make this a sob story. I broke free from Richard and that hopeless job soon enough. Rachel helped with that too. I'd known her years before at camp and we hadn't talked in ages, but I stumbled onto her while investigating the mystery girl Max had recently been seeing.
First you have to know about this cam couple I liked to watch. Jesse and Craig. For a while my routine was to leave Richard's, having felt so used and objectified that I'd been unable to orgasm, and return home and get myself off watching this gorgeous married couple fuck online. God, they were hot, and really really raunchy - lots of hardcore play, with nothing off-limits, including third parties. What turned me on most was their equal willingness. I got the sense they were both enjoying it. And that's what I craved.
I was out to lunch with Max and things were quite ordinary. We always had a flirtation, but it stayed ever-safe, and so it did feel boundary-crossing when I found myself talking about my tastes in porn. And I only had myself to blame. I spotted Jesse and Craig across the pub and, totally starstruck, I couldn't help pointing them out to Max. I'd outed myself, and he gave me a requisite ribbing about it, but not in an unfair way. I was shocked when he revealed that he knew them personally. They were friends of a girl he'd gotten to know, and though it was against our unspoken pact to not discuss such things, there we were discussing it.
"It's not serious," he said, adding, "At least, I don't think it's serious. Not in an attached way. She's a total free-spirit."
"What's her name?" I asked.
"Rachel," was all he said, leaving the door open for me to do a more thorough probing on my own time.
Of course I couldn't do that before visiting Jesse and Craig's profile for the millionth time. Seeing them in person had charged me to peak-need. I called up a video I'd revisited many times. It begins with Craig asleep, naked with sunlight shining over him. Jesse enters in white lingerie, hand in hand with a petite little redhead, also in white lingerie and a matching masquerade mask. Jesse gestures to the redhead that she can climb onto to the bed, which she does, and before Craig even stirs, she has his cock in her mouth. The video finishes with a gleeful covering of cum. Even after I've gotten myself to where I need to be, I always scroll ahead to see their happy faces.
Then I set about discovering this Rachel. There was nothing to be found within Max's Facebook friends, so I decided I'd have to take my investigation on the road. Max said he met her at the shop where she worked. He didn't say where the store was, but I did have a birthday card from Max I could trace rather easily. This led me to the Rachel I knew. I recognized her right away, as she did me. She had a cute, angelic face, a tiny nose piercing and a chic dye job.
"Oh my god, what a small world," I said. I just meant running into her made the world small, not the Max if it all, which actually didn't click right away. I almost said, 'Does another Rachel work here?' when I realized she was the one I'd been searching for. Instead I said, "I think we have someone in common."
"Of course it's you," she grinned. "A smaller world never there was."
She was about to finish her shift anyway and the two of us rounded the corner for a cocktail and to catch up. Rachel had an effervescent ease, and she touched my arm a lot when I talked, as if my most benign comments were fascinating.
After a drink and a half, I gave in to the suspense. "So you and Max."
"Is that okay, by the way? The last thing I want is to get in your way."
"No no," I denied. "You're both free to do whatever you like."
"But it does get in the way, doesn't it?"
I hesitated to respond, eventually saying, "Well..."
"So you're not a couple, but you'd like to be?"
"I don't even know if that's what I want."
"If it helps, Max and I are not doing the feelings thing. It's just..."
"Physical."
"I enjoy platonic connections. Having fun with friends. I've always been like that."
"That reminds me, do you remember..."
"Oh I remember."
"Holy fuck, that night. Did you ever figure out who your partner was?"
"No, you?"
"No," I said.
"I always wondered..."
"What?"
[See my previous story "Camp Friends" to better understand this reference. In short, Jane and Rachel participated in a blindfolded lesbian orgy with the other camp employees]
"I don't want to say." Rachel was being coy, not bashful.
"Say what?"
"I just always had a hunch maybe you were my partner."
