Roped Back In

September 2021

Several times a month, indeed. 

Ned and Tarah met us at the pool over Labor Day weekend, then came back to our house for another night of good vibes and ganja. I loved how happy our kids were to play with theirs. I loved the ease with which we moved our group of ten from pool to pizza party. I loved how Tarah and I retreated to my bathroom together to play with our hair and examine our faces, all while sharing secrets like sisters. 

See, I told myself, true friends are even better than fuck buddies. 

Tarah seemed to share this sentiment. “Come over tomorrow!” she said. “I’ll cut your hair. I could stand to see you two days in a row.” 

I loved that request, too, but I deferred to another day. 

I couldn’t forget about my family, after all.

~

Something shifted between Ned and I over the week that followed. He invited me to eat lunch with him in his room, alone, every day, and this became our standard. The innuendos increased and the eye contact wasn’t always accompanied by words. 

We started texting after work again. One night he wrote, “I used to be afraid of love, but not anymore.” 

On Friday, at lunch, he invited me and the family over for Saturday night. “It’s been so long since you came over,” he said. Again, he held eye contact for a beat too long. 

He’s just a friend, I reminded myself, but another part of me chimed in. People change their minds…

I tried to talk to Veronica, but she just rolled her eyes.

~

Tarah trimmed my hair almost immediately upon my arrival. “We want to do this before we drink or smoke,” she said. 

Ned had already whisked Jack away to his workshop to brag about his latest project, so Jack missed us playing salon. He was beyond disappointed; girls touching each other’s hair is one of his biggest turn-ons. 

Can’t say I blame him. I love having my hair gently touched, and so I was quiet as Tarah worked. It was a comfortable silence.

After taco takeout and wine, we all gathered in Ned and Tarah’s bedroom. Just friends, getting a little high while the kids played video games together in the basement. No biggie.

Jack and Tarah weren’t there when the shibari started. They were probably checking on the kids or had offered to clean the kitchen, I don’t know. 

I do know that it was just me and Ned. I was standing at the foot of the bed, and he was sitting on the side. 

He reached down and pulled out several bundles of colored rope. “Can I practice on you?” he asked.

I hesitated. 

Veronica would later ask me what the fuck shibari is, so let me define it for you here. Shibari is form of bondage originating in Japan, using ropes to create all sorts of fancy ties around a person. Like the most intricate, creative hogtie you can imagine. Ned and I had been talking about this practice recently, as Ned had taken a class in it and had been practicing the basics at home. He and I shared an interest in BDSM, but shibari isn’t always about sex. It’s also considered an art.

I knew all of this, but… “I thought we weren’t doing the bodies?” 

He had a quick answer. “We’ll do it over your clothes.” 

I watched his eyes scan my gray halter top, no bra, and little jean shorts. I didn’t think Ned did this for the art. 

He patted the bed in front of him. “It’s just playing.” He shrugged.

When I nodded, he studied the colors in front of him, then looked at my legs. “For you, pink,” he said.

I sat on the bed, facing him. He gently grabbed my ankle and pulled my leg straight, my foot into his lap. He did the first tie, his hands gently caressing my skin as he worked his way up my leg, criss-crossing the rope and tying knot after knot. 

Jack and Tarah burst back in moments later, giggling about who knows what, but stopped short when they saw us. I saw Jack flinch for a second, and Tarah’s eyes grew wide as her eyebrows shot up. She shot Jack a side-eye glance. 

I could see surprise on Jack, but not annoyance or betrayal. Actually, I knew he would be annoyed to be on kid-duty while I was indisposed — they were getting a little rowdy in the basement. I also saw confusion on Jack’s face, which, to be fair, I shared with him. He was probably also wondering if he was now allowed to get flirty with Tarah — scratch that, he’s always a bit flirty…but I’m sure renewed visions of handjobs floated through his brain.

I mumbled something about “just practicing” to them, but I know I was probably slightly incoherent. I was already entering my submissive mindset, where I shut off the anxious part of my brain. I was in the zone, in the moment, absorbing what the dominant in front of me was doing, and doing my best to please him. I wasn’t in the same world as Jack and Tarah, and they could both surely read that on my face. 

They took their tokes and then left us alone.

Ned binds my legs together and laces them up to my mid-thigh. I watch his hands on my legs, in between them, my feet in his lap. He smiles, smirks. “Pink looks amazing on you.” This tie is the quickest, and he explains that this is the easy one. 

“Now, untying is half the fun,” he says. Then he unties me, and it feels just as erotic, maybe more, as he slides each knot undone, his hands constantly brushing against my skin, slowly. 

Next, he binds my leg so that my heel meets my butt, explaining to me that typically, he’d tie up my other leg just like this, and then maybe rope the legs to the bed or bind them in a way so that my legs were spread wide. He pushes me back against the bed and rolls me around by my bound leg to demonstrate. Exposed.

He asks if he can take a picture of my leg. “Just the leg,” he says. “No faces.” 

I allow it, if he’ll send it to me.

He makes me scoot close to him so that he can untie the top part. When he’s not looking at the ropes on my body, he looks into my eyes. He’s quiet through most of this, so the words he did say — they stuck.

“Imagine what people at work would think,” he says.

I smile, but I’m not sure what to say. Am I reading too much into his words?

“I think Ralph knows,” he says. Knows what? “He actually kind of gave me his blessing,” he adds. “He told me that you and Jack are ‘good people.’” Yes, that sounds like something Ralph would say, but I still don’t know what Ned means. I think I do, but why isn’t he just saying it? I didn’t want to break the spell by asking him to clarify. 

He continues to untie me. The air is thick with that same tension that existed between us back in March. I feel a swell in my chest, and then tingles of pleasure on my legs as he caresses me out of the bondage. 

He keeps talking, slowly, softly. “I talked to Tarah about us eating lunch together every day, and she gave us her blessing, too,” he says.

I start stammering, ready to beg for clarity, but then Jack and Tarah burst into the room again.

They were ready to party, so the mood shifted. It was a group hangout now. They wanted to watch Ned do another tie. He chose to make a harness around me, starting around my neck, not too tight, and then down around my breasts, though they stayed covered by my top. Jack and Tarah oohed and ahhed and complimented the pink against my skin. They watched as Ned took a picture of this creation, and then they left us alone to untie.

Ned had me sit in front of him again. He leaned me forward, my forehead resting on his chest, so that he could untie my back. Why not just turn around, I thought, but I obliged, inhaling his scent as he worked. 

When he finished, he beamed at me. I stood up by the door, knowing we had to be done — the kids had reached obnoxious-level rowdy. Jack would surely lose his shit at Holden if I didn’t intervene soon. 

Ned jumped up next to me and said, “Hey, come here.” He pulled me close to him. “Now we hug,” he said, and we embraced for more than a moment. 

As he pulled away, he locked his eyes on mine. “You’re a beautiful model,” he whispered. Then he left to join the others.

~

We started a movie for the kids, and then the four of us adults gathered around the firepit on their patio. Ned and Jack sat in chairs while Tarah and I danced in front of them, bathing in the fire’s heat and the guys’ gazes. Ned put his bare foot over mine, stopping me from rotating like a rotisserie chicken, instead holding my body in front of his, in place, while he stared. 

I felt wanted. Desired.

Later, in the kitchen, cleaning up, he put his hand on the small of my back and held it there. He winked at me, a warm smile on his face.

This is not friends without the bodies, I thought.

~

I gave Veronica the full report on our Monday morning walk. After I explained shibari to her…well, the look she gave me, to match the words that blurted out of her mouth. “Oh, no, Eliza.” 

She wasn’t wrong.

~

That same Monday at lunch, Ned gushed about The Ethical Slut, which I’d recommended months ago. He’d finally gotten around to reading it now that I was sharing my Audible account with him. That evening, he texted me something flirty, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to scratch that damn itch for clarification. He’d tied me up two days before, so come on. 

Me: Are you flirting with intention?

Ned: I like to flirt with my friends. It’s fun.

Me: I guess I just want some clarity on things…after last weekend and all.

Ned: I don’t think we’re at the point to mess around just yet, but maybe we’ll get there someday.

Why did my cheeks grow hot reading that? I was so embarrassed. I had assumed too much of our rope session. I had assumed too much of his flirting, and I felt stupid. Why couldn’t I just be cool?

I reminded myself that Ned and Tarah had other partners, and that he had said they couldn’t have anyone else. I reminded myself that we were trying to cultivate a deep, meaningful, long-term friendship. Ned and Tarah were special. We’d even been talking about future events, like going on spring break together as a giant group of ten, and then just the four of us adults going to Vegas for our fortieth birthdays the next summer. I wanted this. I wanted to keep them in my life. 

I wanted to stop being so damn clingy and let things be.

But he had said maybe and someday. That wasn’t no, and that fucked with me.

~

I wanted to get over this strange anxiety that flared up after I spent time with Ned. Something felt so good, but something else felt so off. I was always questioning, overthinking. He was like a riddle to crack. I felt that if I could somehow craft my phrases using just the right words, perhaps he would understand my question, and then provide me with clarity…because my God, it was clarity that I so deeply desired. 

How did I think that the cure for this anxiety was to spend more time with him, text him more, make him a bigger part of my life? That’s what I felt compelled to do, and it made absolutely no sense. 

I had a Plan B, though, and that was Distraction. I threw myself into other aspects of life wherever I could — perfecting a new system at work, apple picking with the family on the weekends, yoga headstands and crow challenges against Jack, walks with Jack, sex with Jack. BDSM, new sex toys, lots of sex. 

Sex with other people.

Andrew and Laine had reached back out, and I didn’t see any reason to say no. Jack and I had genuinely enjoyed our time with them. 

This was how an open relationship worked, right? There was no shame in having multiple partners. Ned and Tarah had quite a few, as we came to learn. They had their Kentucky couple, when they were in town. They’d had a “unicorn” that past summer — a friend with benefits for both of them. And Tarah also occasionally spent the night with Sutton the Single Guy, a friend with benefits just for her.

I had also spotted both Ned and Tarah on Feeld, still. I thought they didn’t want any additional partners…and yet there they were. 

At one point that month, I asked Ned, “How many people do you date at a time?” I was genuinely curious how many people I might actually be able to handle, but also, I suspected that his story wasn’t adding up. 

Did he take it as an accusation? I didn’t get an answer; I got a shrug. It was another emotional stab — either I’ve crossed a boundary and it’s none of my business, or perhaps it’s just me. I was annoyed with myself for feeling so angsty over his flippant answer. 

Anyways, back to distraction.

~

The next weekend marked our second rendezvous with Andrew and Laine. It was much like the first one, to be honest and yet gloss over the details. 

We sent the kids to the grandparents’ so that we could host. We had snacks and smoked weed and used the hot tub, then showered and fucked on our bed. The pattern had worked last time, so like an old married couple we did the exact same thing, not really exploring each others’ bodies, not communicating quite as well. Still, it was pleasurable, and probably kinky by most standards. 

My only regret is that I let Andrew fuck me harder than I should have. His cock is longer than Jack’s — a little too long for my tastes, if I’m being honest. He was such a sweet guy, but I didn’t really want to kiss him. He had a perfectly hot body, but I didn’t feel compelled to explore it. He fucked like he meant it, but it just wasn’t for me. 

My favorite parts were with Laine. She’s my type more than Jack’s, and when I wasn’t being fucked or fingered, I wanted to be touching her. Her flat stomach, her small tits, her long legs, her long blonde hair, her slit of a pussy, her tiny ass. I wanted to lick her everywhere in a way that made her squeak out that little moan. 

I enjoy sex with Jack the most, as I hope I’ve made clear here. But that fall, I was beginning to see another side of myself. I realized that, generally speaking, I preferred women to other men.

We kissed Andrew and Laine goodnight on our driveway, and Jack got a rush imagining that some neighbors might have witnessed this. As they drove away, we mused that they still had potential. Then we headed upstairs to continue fucking.

~

Holly and I went out to dinner the Monday after that. We sat adjacent to each other at a Mexican restaurant, leaning in to talk over the din. I noted the way she spoke with our waiter, her voice strong, self-assured, and her tone so kind and real.  It made me proud to be with her. 

I was elated when, at the end of our hours-long meal, the waiter asked about one check or two — hinting that he knew our status. My pride swelled.

Driving home, we texted each other at traffic lights. We agreed that our next meetup should take place at a hotel, for the entire night. 

I couldn’t stop smiling whenever her face popped into my mind. She wanted to see me again. Her. Beautiful, bold, sweet Holly. My grin was likely accompanied by my shoulders scrunching up in twitterpation. 

Did I bite my lip, too?

~

Meanwhile, my friendship with Ned felt like it required great care and thought. That entire month, I ate lunch with Ned every day. We’d chat before school, and sometimes after. We’d text right after work, and sometimes well into the evening. 

What did we talk about? Work, sometimes — but also a great deal about dating and relationships. Our kinks. Our sex lives, our preferences. I’d never talked with a friend quite like this before.

We had a banter, which he adored. One lunch, he dropped a pen under the desk that divided us, then dove down to get it. “Damn, the one day you’re not wearing a skirt,” he said. I burst out laughing, and when I calmed down he said, “This,” with his hands waving between us. “I love this. This is what I want. It’s so easy.”

I was flattered at first, but then a nagging thought crept in. This? What is “this?” 

What the fuck do you mean, Ned?

~

Over text one evening, he brought up The Ethical Slut.

Ned: The book says in like five places not to date coworkers, you know.

Yes, I had read it. Twice. 

I was annoyed. I suppose I thought I was above that advice, and that Ned was more than just a coworker. I thought he was a true friend. Plus, hadn’t we talked about this in March?

Me: It also says it’s best to have sex with friends.

He didn’t answer.

So I brought it up again at work the following day. “So, did you want to talk about what the book says, sex with friends versus coworkers…and where you feel we stand?”

Ned shrugged. “The book also says not to have sex with your neighbors.”

I told him my fantasy about the bisexual neighbor mom. “It would be so convenient,” I said, and we laughed. I thought about Holly and grinned. “Holly does live pretty close…”

He took this as his invitation to bring up something else that he’d clearly wanted to talk about. “Hey, so it’s cool if we talk about our other partners, right?” 

Hadn’t we been doing that already? I nodded. I was always quite curious about how they did things with their other partners. I wanted in on this game, after all. 

I thought I knew all of their partners — Kentucky Couple and Unicorn and Single Guy. 

I didn’t know they were still on the market in a serious way, in a way that would have Ned going out alone to fuck some chick he met up with for drinks that very night. In a way that would make him stumble into work red-eyed the next morning, having never went home. In a way that would cause him to tell me, icily, that he couldn’t talk to me about his date until he talked to Tarah. 

I wondered why I stayed sitting there that day, my pureed soup too thick to swallow, as he told me he was so tired.  “I’ll go,” I said, but he insisted that I sit back down, please, it’s fine. As if he was gracious to endure my presence. Then he constantly darted between his phone and computer as I faltered in leading the conversation. 

Days like these clouded my evenings. My body was home with Jack, but my mind was replaying the scenes with Ned, the words he’d said, trying to make sense of it all. 

I found a therapist who specialized in polyamory, and on the last Monday of September, Jack and I met her via Zoom while sitting in the comfort of our marital bed. In May, the other therapist had told us we were one of the most secure couples she’s ever met. She’d asked us, “So what’s the problem?” When we told her our worries, she practically waved them away. “Just be picky. Oh, and keep communicating how you do.” This time, the problems seemed bigger, and there wasn’t an easy answer.