Authors: Helena Maeve
They didn’t talk about what they were doing and Tony hadn’t brought up the D/s thing after that infamous Saturday afternoon. Jackie didn’t begrudge him his silence and she told herself she wasn’t in any rush to qualify what they had. Except sometimes, when Tony would be kneeling at her feet with Marten stroking his hand into Tony’s pants, and he’d look so goddamn peaceful that it made her insides clench with something more than just desire, she wondered, despite herself.
She knew Marten was aware of it, too, mostly from the way he’d glance up at her, or nudge Tony just so as to give her a good look at his face when he was trapped between them. The first time Tony had bent over the kitchen table and let Marten swat his ass, he’d looked
gone
. Jackie had no other word for it. She’d watched, enraptured, as her boyfriend had taken his pleasure from a beautiful man who seemed to have become their plaything and their friend, and afterwards she‘d helped Tony clean the cum off the table. It wasn’t particularly hygienic, but she didn’t give a damn.
The only trouble, as far as she could see, was that her sex life played a much bigger role in her daily preoccupations than it used to. More importantly, her thoughts kept drifting to the sex she was having—rather than the sex she could be having—at all hours of the day. Clara caught her daydreaming more than a couple of times and nudged and hinted until Jackie confessed, eventually, to things getting interesting with her hypothetical Other Man. She kept the details slim and used no names, but Clara was too sharp not to pick up on what was going on.
“And what does Marten have to say about all of this?” she asked on the way home one sunny afternoon, as the weather seemed to be turning uncharacteristically mild for mid-March.
“He’s fine with it,” Jackie said. It was the truth. Marten was fine with sharing his bed with another man. If anything, when it was just the two of them, he seemed that much more eager to have sex with Jackie without her prompting. He called her at work sometimes, too, to say he was thinking of her. That hadn’t happened before.
“I don’t know how you guys do it,” Clara admitted, smiling tightly. “I’d be so jealous if my boyfriend was sleeping around.”
Jackie felt affronted despite herself. “I’m not sleeping around.”
“You know what I mean,” scoffed Clara. “An open relationship just seems so… You know. Weird.”
“Are you seeing anyone?” Jackie shot back, intentionally acerbic.
“I am, actually.” Something in Clara’s smile seemed like that piece of news had been cooking for some time. It had the desired effect, leaving Jackie momentarily speechless. Her throat worked, but no sound came out. It was just as well, because Clara had more to say about it. “We’ve been together since sixth form. You’d call it high school, I think. Travelled around together, saw the world…”
“Really,” Jackie deadpanned. She wanted to say something supportive, but a ‘well done’ might have come across as sarcastic and anything else—questions, for example—risked being indiscreet.
Clara nodded. “We broke up a few weeks back, but we’re back together now. You could say I disagreed with his profession.” She eased the Renault to a stop as they reached Jackie’s apartment building. “He’s an actor.”
“And you didn’t like that?”
“He’s an
adult film
actor,” Clara clarified with a mock shudder. “I don’t understand why, but he’s never been very good about finding a paying job so I guess that’s the only thing he felt he’d be good at, you know? He has some self-esteem issues.”
With a girlfriend like you
, Jackie thought,
I can’t imagine why
that could be
. What came out of her mouth was more along the lines of “That’s interesting.” Her hands found the lever that opened the door. “Anyway, thanks for the ride home.”
“No problem,” Clara beamed through the open door. “And, Jackie? Just so you know I’m not making him up—his name is Tony.”
Jackie had opened her mouth to say that Clara shouldn’t worry so much about what other people thought of her—a platitude offered with the best intentions—when the sentiment died promptly in her throat. She echoed Clara’s “Goodnight” by rote, barely hearing the words coming out of her mouth. The Renault pulled away from the kerb, sliding smoothly into traffic until its tail lights became two red eyes in a sea of many others.
It had to be a coincidence. Tony wasn’t an uncommon name and the Dutch porn industry wasn’t so minuscule that there couldn’t be two men with similar stories making the rounds. It was purely accidental. A fluke, nothing more. Yet as she closed the apartment door behind her and kicked off her shoes, Jackie began to wonder.
Neither she nor Marten knew a whole lot about the man who not so occasionally shared their bed. His profession exposed a part of him to scrutiny, but ironically concealed everything else that could be relevant. Jackie had never even seen the inside of his apartment. She knew he could afford to take them out for dinner, having squabbled over the bill and lost on more than one occasion. She also knew he was fastidious about his clothes. It was impossible to sleep with a man and not become attuned to the labels on his shirt and underwear. His were all brand name, but worn and a little faded from too many rolls inside the tumble-dryer. Not new by any shred of imagination. His watch was a knock-off, his Converse shoes scuffed from walking everywhere. He didn’t have a car and he only rarely took the bus or the subway. He had intimated a couple of times that he enjoyed cycling, but Jackie hadn’t seen him bike anywhere yet.
As she flopped down onto the couch and opened her laptop, she hesitated to check his website for the first time in months. The work he did went through a couple of production companies, but he advertised it freely on his own dime, which made it easier for his more dedicated fans to keep track of any new films. Jackie had been such a fan for a long time. With Tony in her bed, though, she hadn’t felt much need to check what he was doing for work. She loaded up the address of the website in the browser but hesitated when it came to clicking through. It felt too much like checking up on him. An invasion of privacy.
Even if she checked his website, it wouldn’t tell her if he was double-timing them with a girl called Clara who talked too much and pried into matters that were none of her business.
“Are we still on for tonight?” Marten asked in lieu of hello when she picked up his call.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” It was the second whammy of the night and Jackie was suddenly glad to be sitting down.
Luckily, Marten’s bombshell didn’t involve any talk of cheating. “I might be a little late. New boss wants to take us out for a drink after work and, technically speaking, I could get out of it, but—”
“You shouldn’t,” Jackie finished for him. She knew how these things worked and how fine the balance was between a capricious boss and one actively working to undermine you because he or she felt slighted. She sighed. “I can give Tony a call and tell him we’ll see him tomorrow instead, if you want.” There was no good way to say she didn’t feel entirely comfortable seeing him on her own.
There was no cause to say it, either, unless she wanted to open a can of worms she was only half sure she could close back up again.
“Nah,” Marten said, sounding tired. “No reason you two shouldn’t have a nice evening together just because I can’t join you.”
Typical, Marten was so damn laid-back that sometimes Jackie wanted to throttle him and his unflappable Dutch disposition. “Are you sure?” she asked, biting her tongue. The tab was still blank on her browser screen, waiting for her click to load Tony’s website.
Marten nodded. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be there as soon as it’s polite to take my leave.” He didn’t have to say that he’d probably end up coming home by cab. He wasn’t a teetotaller, but he respected some laws with scrupulous fidelity and driving while under the influence was one of them. Jackie wondered, sometimes, how the two of them had ever found anything in common—they couldn’t be more different.
Once she had hung up under the promise not to cancel their date with Tony, she found it even harder to go back on her word. A shower and a hastily thrown together dinner comprising largely leftover Chinese and a yogurt did nothing to calm her nerves. Despite the thoughts running riot through her head, she still felt pleased to see Tony at nine-fifteen, particularly since he had brought a more respectable dinner along.
“I thought Greek,” he said, bending to peck her on the cheek. “No Marten?”
“Not yet.” Jackie explained about the work thing and his having to stay after to make nice with the new boss. Excuses were unnecessary—Tony was a pretty understanding guy by nature. If he picked up on her slight awkwardness and the swiftness with which she slammed shut the laptop screen, he was too nice to mention it. Perhaps he only figured she was stumped by the takeout—and that wasn’t far from the truth. In all her years of sampling takeout, Greek food had somehow remained a mystery, unexamined until this evening. Unpacking the plastic boxes didn’t help her any. “Okay, I have no idea what this is.”
“Spinach pie,” Tony clarified, peering at the container. “They call it
spanakopita
. It’s good, try it.”
“I’m not sure if I should…”
“Chicken.”
Jackie rolled her eyes and took the layered pastry in hand. It didn’t taste awful, she discovered after the first bite, but it wasn’t easy to eat without getting bits of spinach and cheese everywhere. Tony reached out a hand to brush the crumbs from her shirt, his fingers painfully, delightfully familiar with the curve of her breast. Jackie started a little, surprised. The vivid image of Clara’s smiling face as she had pulled away from the kerb flared up like a bruise.
His name is Tony
.
There was no way he could miss the startled jump, sitting as close as he was. He was too sweet not to take the fall for it. “Sorry. You just had—sorry.”
“It’s fine. Want to see what’s on TV?”
She caught him stealing glances at her all through dinner, over the sound of the
Real Housewives
of Some City or Other and the beginnings of a soccer game that Tony and Marten would have sat down to watch together whether they’d known anything about the teams or not. With Marten still being detained by his boss, Tony didn’t insist. Jackie changed the channel to an old-timey episode of
The Addams Family,
blissfully black and white and harmlessly camp.
It gave them something to stare at while they ate, but neither of them seemed to be paying much attention once they’d finished.
“Bad day at work?” Tony asked.
Jackie darted a look his way, feigning distraction. “Hmm? Oh, no… I’m just a little tired.” The thought of citing PMS shot through her mind, as uncharitable and selfish as the magazine articles she helped print.
“You want to head to bed?”
At some point in the weeks since they’d started seeing Tony, sleeping together had become a real thing. It wasn’t just a matter of getting together to have sex anymore, but to share their bed for sleeping. She wasn’t sure how that had entered the realm of normality or why it felt right to have Tony between the sheets with them. It did, though, even if he snored and slept too lightly, even if he insisted on kissing Jackie before brushing his teeth in the morning particularly because he knew she’d make a face.
It was a thing and saying no seemed somehow unkind.
“I’m going to grab a shower first,” Jackie said, temporising. She could have come up with a better excuse. Her hair was still a little damp from the first shower she’d had that evening and Tony could probably smell the vanilla and almond fragrance of her body wash.
But Tony was also all about giving her space and taking things in his stride, so of course he said nothing to spoil the fiction. “Okay… I’ll tidy up, if that’s all right.”
Jackie nodded. She wondered where the guy from the coffee shop had gone, if being at their disposal had somehow neutered that part of Tony that was vivacious and free with his words. She didn’t lock the bathroom door behind her. What was the point?
This
Tony would never follow her in without permission. And maybe she was supposed to like that—and she did, God help her—but what if he was here because he thought he had to be? What if he’d entered a relationship, of sorts, with them and was neglecting his real girlfriend for their sake?
Did Clara wonder about him when he didn’t come home at night?
Jackie stared at her own reflection on the mirror. The shower was running, but she hadn’t stepped into the cubicle yet. She wanted to rewind the evening to before she’d bullied Clara into over-sharing. For the longest time she had wondered if the PA had anyone. Now she knew. She couldn’t help think she would’ve been happier labouring under a misapprehension, thinking that Clara was so indiscreet and gossipy because she was making up for her own lack of romantic escapades.
Of course, it didn’t have to be the same Tony. It could be a coincidence.
Travelled the world
, Clara had said, like it was nothing. Jackie hung her head. If Tony had shared more about his life, perhaps she wouldn’t have latched onto that one conversation they’d had about the ex-girlfriend who had broken up with him in Minsk. He did say he had followed her to Rotterdam. What if—?
A knock on the bathroom door startled Jackie from her thoughts.
“Hey, do you mind if I use your computer?” Tony asked, his voice small and muffled over the sound of the running spray. “I need to send a quick email and I’ve maxed out my data subscription for the month.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. Go ahead.” What could she say?
“Okay.” Tony seemed far away, as if more than the bathroom door stood between them.
Jackie closed her eyes. She was starting to regret ever bringing Tony into their lives. It had seemed harmless at first, a play-date for adults and a memorable way to celebrate her boyfriend’s thirtieth. Then they’d got attached. She should have known that could happen and thought ahead. There was no possible way this three-way thing could work for long, anyway. Even if Clara wasn’t an issue, how long before Marten decided he liked being with Tony better than he did Jackie?