Sharing

Editor’s note: Shelby’s accounts of Memorial Day may be found here and here. Madeline’s accounts of the Memorial Day weekend begin here.

Shelby and Todd had made tentative plans to watch a movie.

She had the DVD, he has the killer entertainment center. But alas, she could not connect to confirm the plans, so she assumed things had changed.

Turned out that Todd had decided to spend the afternoon in Central Park, and had left home without his cell phone. As the sun set, he thought he may as well stroll over to my place.

He knew Shelby would be there. He knew what we would be up to.

We missed his knocks at the door.

He returned downstairs to call up from the entry.

“Hello, Jefferson. It’s Todd.”

“Hi Todd. You’re here?”

She took my cock from her mouth and raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged. She nodded.

“Sure, come on up!” I buzzed him in.

“I thought we were going to his place?” I asked, pulling on pajama bottoms.

“Yeah, but that was supposed to be a few hours ago,” Shelby said, sitting up on the bed.

“Best laid plans, right?”

Todd knocked. I kissed Shelby. “Be right back, baby.”

Todd kissed me at the door. He was wearing a black Glengarry Glen Ross t-shirt, and carrying his bag of sex accouterments.

He walked to the bedroom.

“Hey Shelby!” He kissed her hello.

“Hey Todd.” She hugged his neck.

She hadn’t bothered to dress.

They went back and forth over their missed plans, trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

The movie to have been screened was The Life Aquatic (With Steve Zissou), which neither Todd nor I had seen. Their discussion about failed plans evolved into a critique of the Wes Anderson oeuvre.

I followed quietly.

My cell rang. Shelby passed it to me.

Madeline’s number flashed on the screen.

“I’ll be back, guys.” I stood to take the call elsewhere.

“You, answering a phone call?” Shelby teased, knowing my aversion to telephones. “Must be important!”

It was, actually.

A few days ago, late on Thursday, my best friend Marcus had written an email inviting me to join him and my online girlfriend Madeline in Louisville, Kentucky, on a road trip for Memorial Day weekend.

They had made the plans just a few hours earlier.

They were each driving ten hours—she to the east, he to the west—to share their second weekend together in a month, after I introduced them at my place in April.

This time, they were each bringing their kids.

I appreciated the offer, but I could not just drop everything on twenty-four hours notice to hang out in Louisville for the weekend.

I wished them well.

Now it was late on Memorial Day. I knew Madeline would be in her car, driving west to get back home.

Marcus was presumably in his car with his kids, driving east.

I sat on my terrace as we talked, taking in the final moments of daylight.

Jefferson: Hey baby.

Madeline: Hey!

Jefferson: Well, how was it? Did things go well?

Madeline: Yes, it was a great weekend. And I think I have the boys asleep, or nearly there. How was your weekend?

Jefferson: It went very well. Actually, I guess it is continuing to go well . . .

Madeline: Oh . . . do you need to go?

Jefferson: No, I can talk for a bit. Tell me about your weekend.

Madeline shared a few anecdotes about taking this first road trip with her kids, ages two and four. She talked about meeting Marcus’s two boys, ages nine and twelve.

How did the kids get along? I asked.

Pretty well, she said. They had arranged for a hotel suite. Marcus’s boys had one room, her boys shared a fold out, and she and Marcus slept in the “grown up room.”

Jefferson: The “grown up room?” I asked. You slept together?

Madeline: Well, yes.

Jefferson: How did that work?

Marcus explained to his sons on the drive over that they would be spending the weekend with his new girlfriend and her kids. And Dad would be sharing a room with his girlfriend.

Madeline’s kids, being younger, did not require quite as much clarification about the arrangement. But it was clear that Marcus was someone special in Mom’s life.

And so the grown ups had shared the “grown up room.” Dad’s girlfriend and Mom’s boyfriend slept there and had sex there.

Hearing that, I lost a few regrets about missing the weekend.

This was just not my speed.

Bringing kids into play was much, much too fast for me.

Sex would have been really unlikely for me under these circumstances, with kids in the next room.

Impossible if any of the kids had been my own.

In his invitation on Thursday, Marcus had asked if I could bring my kids to Louisville the next day.

No way I would have sprung such a trip on my kids, even if I had them that weekend.

I alluded to my misgivings with Madeline, and expressed them to Marcus when we spoke the next day.

Jefferson: God, Marcus, I don’t know. I couldn’t have done it that way in a million years.

Marcus: Why? Why would you have a problem?

Jefferson: Well, if I travel with the kids, it is all about the kids. Having my kids in the next room is a huge soft on for me. I can’t imagine all-out sex in those circumstances.

Not to mention that anything that happens with the kids gets a direct line to my ex’s ears. I am not ready to answer to her about anyone who might be identified as my “girlfriend,” or how I may choose to handle their relationship with her.

Marcus: Yeah, this is newer for you than for me. I’m a year ahead of you on the divorce thing. I don’t really care what my ex thinks.

Jefferson: I don’t know if I care or don’t care. I just don’t want her involved, you know? It’s my life. The kids are my life, but also our life. Too close to the bone on too many fronts.

Marcus: Yeah, we do see things differently. Like you say, my ex heard through the kids that Madeline is my girlfriend, and I’m okay with that. That is all over.

Our conversations were long and detailed, much having to do with stories that aren’t my tales to tell.

On Memorial Day, I chatted with Madeline for a while as she drove, then said I should get back to my guests.

Madeline: Okay baby, have fun.

Jefferson: I will. Drive safely.

We savored our familiar pregnant pause before hanging up.

I sat on my terrace, watching traffic, thinking.

I had asked Madeline about the weekend, expecting only nice stories about the music festivals they saw.

She volunteered details about sleeping arrangements and sex.

Madeline doesn't gloat.

She took a risk in telling me details.

She wants honesty to work.

Same as me.

I went into the kitchen.

I poured a bourbon and returned to the bedroom.

Todd had lost his pants.

He wore only his Glengarry Glen Ross t-shirt as he ate Shelby’s pussy.

She smiled at me. I nodded and sat in a chair to watch.

A friend asked me recently: What is the wisdom in this? You meet women you come to care about, she said, and then introduce them to your boyfriends. Then you share them all with one another.

You risk being left out.

That is a risk, I thought, sipping bourbon in my chair.

And it kind of sucks when things take to their own path, whatever I might prefer otherwise.

If you let the genie out of the bottle, you accept that the genie may have many wishes to grant—not just your own.

So why take that risk of being cut out, when you can possess the genie?

Shelby patted the bed next to her.

I set my bourbon on the nightstand, and stripped.

I lay next to her, my hand wrapped around her face as Todd licked her clit.

She kissed my cheek.

Todd slipped his fingers into her, and took my cock in his mouth.

sex
sexblogs
bisexuality
threesome
oral sex
polyamory
jealousy
Central Park
The Life Aquatic
Glengarry Glen Ross