by Elia Winters
“I think it’s my thesis.” Lori played with the fringe of the couch pillow. “I want to go into relationship coaching, not journalism. I started working at the paper back in undergrad, and I was good at it, so I stuck with it. But it’s not what I want to do forever.”
“Can you do that sort of thing here in Mapleton?” Suddenly, the thought of losing Lori loomed on the horizon. Hannah had never conceived of life in Mapleton without her best friend.
“I’m doing some volunteer work with the relationship therapy associates on Main Street, but it’s not quite what I want.” Lori shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a long shot. I’m just now starting to think about it.”
“It’s weird that this would come on you so suddenly. No warning. Just, bam, I want to change jobs and move.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to change jobs and move. Don’t put words in my mouth. Drink your tequila.” Lori gestured with her glass, then took her own advice for a long, slow sip. “Our new boss is kind of an ass.”
“Oh, right.” Lori had told her about the new editor in chief who had taken over for the retiring one. “He’s only been there a few weeks, right? Maybe he’s just getting used to it. Give him some time.”
“I know. I’m impatient.” Lori grimaced. “You know me. I like a challenge. I like change. But I also like things to make sense. And I don’t know if what this guy’s doing is going to make sense for the paper in the long run. Plus, I’ve got my defense next spring, and that’s a big turning point. I finish the defense, maybe I publish, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I have friendships, like this one, and I’ll miss them, miss you, but I don’t know if Mapleton was ever meant to be my forever home. Come spring, I think I might start to look for opportunities elsewhere.” She gave Hannah a hesitant smile. “You’ll visit.”
Hannah’s world had upended just at the thought of losing Lori, but she had time to get used to the idea. Lori wasn’t going to leave until after her thesis defense in late spring, at least. And Hannah could surely find some other friends. “Shit, Lori, I don’t have a lot of friends.”
Lori pursed her lips. “Yeah, so, that’s another reason I think you should come to the polyam workshop. You should meet some people.”
“Ouch.” Hannah laughed, but it felt a little forced.
“I’m just saying.” Lori shrugged. “You can never have too many friends. It’s good to get different perspectives on things. Make connections. Network.” She waggled her fingers back and forth like a little person running around. “You never know. Maybe find someone to help you with your business.”
Oh, so that was part of it. “I don’t need help with my business.” Best to shut that down right away. “And if I do, I’ll get help on my terms.”
Lori sighed. “Right. I forget. Miss ‘I have to do it myself or it doesn’t count.’”
Hannah didn’t really have a good response to that, but it stung. She sipped her tequila with a sour expression.
Lori’s next words were gentle. “I’m sorry. I know I can be kind of harsh. I just hate to see you struggling when I can’t do anything about it.”
She really did mean well, and Hannah softened. “I know. But I don’t need you picking on me. And I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“You’re right. You’re right.” Lori swirled the little bit of tequila left in her glass. “I think I’m kind of nervous, thinking about changing things up. But I think it would be good for me, you know? I never put down as many roots here as I wanted.”
“I love it here.” Mapleton felt like home: the small-town vibe, the Chamber of Commerce meetings, the shops and students and hippie atmosphere, her own business. Well, one of those might not be around forever. “I don’t want to leave.”
“So don’t leave. Nobody’s telling you to leave. This is a good place for you.” Lori raised her glass in a toast and drank. She looked down at her glass in hand while she swallowed, brow furrowed. “Are you pissed at me for thinking of moving?”
“Of course not.” How could Hannah begrudge Lori her happiness? Thinking about their friendship having a time limit, though, made her uneasy. Although it didn’t have to have a time limit. They could still be friends even after Lori moved away. “Are you looking far from here?” Please don’t let it be far.
“Probably Boston or New York. I think I want to be in the city.” Lori licked her lips. “Change of pace. Also, the chance to help more people.”
“Neither of those is too far away.” Hannah shifted on the chair.
“Oh, yeah, piece of cake. You can take the Metro North down out of New Haven into New York. It’s only a few hours. Practically a day trip.” Lori smiled. “What, you think I’m gonna head out west or something? Fuck that. I hate California. It’s a fucking desert.”
“California’s a big state. The north is really pretty, I hear.”
“So now you want me to move to California?”
“No! I’m just saying.” Hannah found herself laughing. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. She had survived worse.
Unless she lost her business.
With that sobering thought, she picked up her glass of tequila again.
Lori left later that night, a few hours after they had finished the tequila and most of a large pizza between them. In the silence of her house, Hannah stared at her computer for a while. She could call Ben and talk to him about this, and Mitchell, but calling had an air of “this is a big deal,” and phone calls were terrible. Nobody liked getting them or making them. Instead, she went into the group chat.
Hey. Weird question. What are the odds I could get you guys to go with me to a polyamory workshop my friend Lori is hosting?
…
Ben flipped the switch at the top of the stairs in the restaurant, flooding the room with light. Although they didn’t rent out the event space as often as they thought they would back when they were renovating the place, it still brought in a steady stream of income through the occasional gatherings. This place had hosted some corporate mixers, rehearsal dinners, and bachelor/ette parties, but this polyamory workshop would be a first for both the restaurant and for him.
He was pushing a broom when Mitchell’s footfall sounded on the stairs. Already, his heart quickened. He and Mitchell hadn’t spoken of what happened the night of the Fall Festival. He wasn’t sure if Mitchell remembered his drunken confession, but neither of them had brought it up in the intervening time. They had instead settled into the comfortable intimacy that had developed since the threesome with Hannah, closer and more affectionate than before, but with zero conversation about it. Probably not the healthiest system. Now they were only a few hours away from this polyamory workshop and probably some uncomfortable conversations, and Ben couldn’t stop his brain from running away with him.
Mitchell looked around at the room. “Hey. You’re getting started early.”
“Lots to do.” Ben gestured around at the cobwebs. “Clean some shit. Don’t just stand there.”
Mitchell snorted. “You’re telling me to clean? Did hell freeze over?”
“Shaddup. Lori wants rounds of six with a presentation space up front.” He waved his hand. “Move some tables. And then we’ve gotta check the taps. Lori paid for an open bar.”
“You and Hannah both, just keeping me around to move heavy shit.” Mitchell threw his head back and gave a mighty martyred sigh.
“And your back muscles look really good doing it.” Ben brushed his hair back from his forehead. Ugh, gross. The skin under his palm felt gritty. “I’m covered in dust. Think I have time to run home and shower before tonight?”
“I’m gonna.” Mitchell wrinkled his nose. “Don’t want to go into tonight smelling like the grill.”
After they’d set up the room, Mitchell checked the glassware, frowning meticulously at each pint glass and re-rinsing it in the sink even though each one was perfectly clean. It was a tiny moment, but so clearly Mitchell, who wouldn’t accept less than perfection.
Jesus, he w
as pretty far gone on the guy, wasn’t he?
Facing those emotions felt a little daunting right now, though. “I’m going home to catch a shower.”
Mitchell nodded without looking up. “Don’t use all the hot water. I’ll be along soon.”
Twenty minutes later, Ben was in the shower when he heard the door to the bathroom open. He stuck his head out. “Dude, you couldn’t wait?”
Mitchell started to pull off his chef jacket. “No. I smell like food, and there isn’t time. And I didn’t want to wait anymore.” He ripped back the curtain and stepped into the shower with Ben.
Ben spluttered, lifting his head out from under the stream of water. What the hell? He did this to Mitchell all the time, but not recently, and Mitchell hadn’t done this to him in…damn, such a long time, but there he was, naked and determined, and he backed Ben up against the wall and kissed him.
Ben froze up for a moment, surprised at Mitchell’s intensity, before yielding and kissing him back. Fuck. With the steamy water, and Mitchell’s warm, tight body against him, Ben’s senses flooded with heat and desire. Kisses didn’t usually make him feel so dizzy, but he couldn’t catch his breath, thoughts dissolving down into the press of Mitchell’s lips on his. This wasn’t like any kisses they’d shared before. And…yeah, this was the first time they’d done this since Mitchell said he loved him. Those words, said affectionately and drunkenly at two in the morning, were framing everything.
Maybe reading something in Ben’s response, Mitchell broke away and took a half step back. There wasn’t room in this shower to do much else. With his damp hair plastered to his forehead, he looked so lost all of a sudden.
“I don’t…” he began, then shook his head.
He kept opening his mouth a bit and closing it again, wanting to talk, obviously, but not saying anything. God, he was vulnerable and sweet and gorgeous, and this swelling emotion in his chest would not, could not be denied, so he stepped Mitchell back up against the cold shower wall and kissed him again.
This wasn’t just an “I want to fuck you” kiss, or an “I think you’re hot” kiss. This was so many different kinds of kisses, hurt and comfort and need and longing, fulfillment in the space between their lips where they slanted and tasted and sipped. He cupped Mitchell’s jaw, framing it with one hand while the other reached between them and found Mitchell’s cock, half hard, stroking it all the way into hardness while the other man moaned into his mouth. He wanted so much here, and there weren’t words for all of the need pulsing in his blood. Mitchell reached for him as well, fumbling between their bodies, until they were awkwardly jerking each other off while kissing hard like teenagers. Something desperate laced these motions, not like the fun and flirtatious sex they’d shared in the past, but something deeper and raw.
Something like love.
Ben’s orgasm hit like a punch to the gut, sucking the wind out of him with rapturous pleasure. He succumbed to Mitchell’s fast, sure strokes, grip faltering on Mitchell’s cock as he spasmed in release. Fuck. He broke the endless kiss to rest his head against the tile wall, boxing Mitchell in with his larger body, breathing through the climax that swept over him with the suddenness and intensity of an earthquake.
Recovered, he stroked at Mitchell with renewed fervor, their slickness mingling with the water, and ducked back in to kiss him again. Kissing during sex, that came naturally, but kissing in the aftermath felt like comfort, and he sought out the sweetness, to hell with what that might mean.
Mitchell threw his head back when he came, crying out like he was in pain, a noise of intense pleasure that hit straight in the heart. Ben kept stroking while Mitchell spilled over his fist, hot and wet, washed away immediately in the water pounding down on them.
In the aftermath, they stayed close, even though there was no physical need to do so. The need ran deeper. It felt so good to stand pressed against Mitchell under the heavy fall of water and take this kind of comfort. Tonight they were going to talk about polyamory, about feelings and relationships and all those things he had avoided since the end of his marriage. It might be terrible. But it might also be wonderful.
Both possibilities were terrifying.
Mitchell touched his arm. “The water’s getting cold.”
“You didn’t wash.”
“I’m clean enough.” He smiled. “We’ve got places to be.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mitchell wasn’t sure who he expected to be running a polyamory workshop, but it wasn’t the over-sixty couple who exited the elevator with Lori. They were like the cover of an AARP magazine, full of exuberant energy, smiling and laughing at some conversation that had started earlier and continued into the room. Lori called all of them over to make introductions.
The older woman, Kate, wore a brown pantsuit with a yellow silk scarf, and when she took off her smart blazer, the blouse underneath was tan and decorated with delicate flowers. She had that polished look—pants creased, shoes sensible but dressy. She was even wearing pearl earrings. Perfect. Her silver hair was neatly bobbed, not a stray strand out of place, her whole persona bubbling with composed sensuality.
Walter, her husband, had a similar air of confidence and decorum. He looked every bit the college professor, complete with tweed jacket and elbow patches. His gray hair was trimmed quite short, and even though it was getting thin on top, he still had most of it, and his small beard and mustache matched the ensemble. In his pocket were wire-rimmed glasses, the kind that had flexible arms on the sides to hook over his ears, because of course he wore glasses like that.
Ben started chatting with them immediately, walking them around to show them the place and answer whatever questions they had about the venue, leaving Mitchell alone with Hannah for a minute. Even though he hadn’t seen her in days, her proximity brought up a whole wave of longing. He had missed her, and told her so.
She blinked in surprise, then smiled shyly, averting her gaze. “Thanks. I missed you, too.” Clearing her throat, she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “Anyway. Thanks again for coming.” She bit her lip, looking over at Ben giving the tour. “I know Lori’s grateful, and so am I.”
“You’re welcome. I gotta admit, this isn’t really my thing.”
“Polyamory?”
“Group events.” He grimaced.
“But you go to all those Chamber of Commerce meetings. You take notes.” She raised an eyebrow. “You were amazing at the Fall Festival.”
“That’s different. That’s connected to my business. I’m very good with stuff about my business.”
Hannah frowned. “Right.” She looked around. “This room is nice. I’m glad you could host it here.”
“I’m glad there’s beer.” Beer would make the evening go much more smoothly.
“Definitely.” She smoothed her skirt down her thighs. The action made him look her up and down. She wore a black pencil skirt over purple-and-black-striped tights. The sweater paired with that outfit was the same shade of purple, a nice eggplant color. He always paired appearances with food, but then again, that was how he saw the world.
“Damn, you look good enough to eat.”
She grinned and blushed at once, fucking adorable. “Thank you.”
People were starting to arrive, the steady thumping up the stairs like a harbinger of social interaction, the dinging elevator carrying others, and then Ben’s hand at his elbow steered him away to meet the couple running the workshop.
“So you must be Mitchell.” Kate extended a hand, and Mitchell shook it. “Ben says you two own this pub. What brings you here tonight?”
Ben was just smiling with an earnest expression, like he was just dying to hear what Mitchell had to say. What a fucker. He should have known Ben wasn’t rescuing him from social interaction but dragging him into more.
“I, uh…” He probably couldn’t pawn this off on just owning the business. “We’ve been…sort of trying it recently. Polyamory. Not real polyamory. But something like it. I’m not sur
e.”
“Oh, good, good.” Walter nodded. “Lots of stuff to unpack with that, isn’t there?”
“Yeah.” Some of the tension in Mitchell’s chest eased at their casual tone. Nobody was even judging his inability to talk. Maybe this wouldn’t be terrible.
“Walter and I are psychologists specializing in relationship therapy,” Kate said, putting a hand on her husband’s arm. “It’s easy for us to get carried away with the therapy part of things sometimes.” They smiled warmly at each other. God, they were clearly so in love. When Mitchell thought about polyamory, he didn’t think about a happy older couple in an open relationship. Already he was having to shift his expectations.
At his elbow, Lori suddenly joined the conversation, addressing Kate and Walter. “I want to give people about five more minutes to come in, and then we can get started, if that’s all right. I’ll introduce you?”
“Sure, sure, sounds good.” Walter nodded. He turned back to Mitchell and Ben. “Well, I hope you gentlemen get something out of tonight. There’s a lot to talk about, and I know it can get a little overwhelming at times.” Nodding sagely at his own comment, he then turned to Kate. “Let’s get unpacked, hon.”
People had started to mingle and make small talk, taking the beer that Mitchell and Ben had poured, until Kate and Walter called everyone to seats.
“If you’re here with any partners or friends, please sit with them at one of the tables,” Kate directed.
Kate and Walter introduced themselves first. They had been together since high school, and they began experimenting with open relationships when they were in their early thirties, which if Mitchell’s math was correct was a bit past the actual free-love era. Kate spoke confidently, with the soothing voice of one comfortable with public speaking.
“We were already psychologists and relationship therapists together, and we both felt the need to get more information about this type of relationship. That has become our calling, to the point where it’s taken over most of our regular practice.”
