A Tiroir is a Drawer

"I want a Tiroir."

My brain went, "Wut?!"

I had No Fucking Clue what she meant. I ran the word through my head. Once upon a time, I'd learned some French, it meant, 'drawer'. It sounded like a big ask, whatever it was. She thought it was, at least. All I could say was, "Uh..."

"We're going to do this, Kev, or we're going back to sleep, we can talk about it in the morning, but if we do this, I want a Tiroir."

Still, I was drawing a blank, totally. I had to cover, so I said, "I'm not sure what to say."

"You want to make love with me tonight. I want it, too, really desperately, but... this isn't the dark ages. This isn't Blue Brigade's land, this isn't a Kyrgyz Ala Kachuu, or even a Jabaria Shaadi. You have rights, I have rights, too. If we do this and gain progeny, boy or girl I don't care, or if we marry - I want to be in the first circle. I want a Tiroir."

The words and references were mysterious, but I didn't need to know them to know what the tone of the conversation was: This sounded like a negotiation.

She wanted something from me. I had no idea what it was. This multiverse was different from my own, and there was a social structure in place that I was clueless about. I had the feeling this was something that I shouldn't agree to easily, or she'd have rattled it off like it wasn't a big deal. It had to be a big deal, by the way she said it. Yet, I knew her. She wouldn't be unfair.

I had to get more info.

I could stall for time. I could use a dictionary, or an encyclopedia. I could just say I was tired and go to sleep. Still, it wouldn't do. I had to find out more first. I echoed what I'd heard earlier: "This sounds like a negotiation."

"Of course it's a negotiation! You started it when you almost-proposed to Jane, and then told me about it, and adding to that, almost-proposed to me. Not something a girl forgets."

"So, you want a Tiroir, and I get to ask for something in return. Are there more specifics on your request you'd like to add? Any caveats, limits on it? Can I ask for anything else?"

"You told me earlier. Should I quote you?"

I sat down on the side of the bed.

Counting on her fingers, she said, "You said, nanny, pediatrician, keep being athletic, best moral version of myself, blowjob machine, buttsex handmaiden, baby factory, and 'whatever else', in quotes."

"I'm not actually into anal, I ... don't think."

"Named and answered, preponderance carries. I can recite your list."

I squinted, thinking she had to be right. "Seems like it?"

Her tone was frank. "I'm okay with 'whatever else' as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, and it's not intentionally humiliating, uh...in front of anyone else, at least."

Was this going to be a dating thing? Baby factory - that meant sharing a house. I wondered about gender roles being different, but I liked the ones I had. I remembered what happened with gender roles in the early 2010's.

With this in mind, I clarified, "Cooking, cleaning, maybe shared with Jane, something fair?"

"Fair how? You get the income, we're housemaids?"

"How does the 'traditional roles' thing fit in, with keeping a house, loving and raising kids, that stuff?"

She smiled, "Kev, I see how your family works. You've seen mine. I know I can be a pediatrician, OR I can be a homemaker. I think you want a pediatrician more - that'd bring in money and we can hire the help."

"After med school..."

"Exactly. After med school."

What the hell was I negotiating? I had ZERO idea. The 'first circle' obviously meant primary wife, or wives. Tiroir was a right or something, part of being in that circle. She'd said that word when she said she didn't want to be 'second wife'.

"I think this is a negotiation, Amy, that we should have when we're rested?"

"Bullshit. Everyone knows this stuff, they have ideas. You may be clueless, but not a female in this country, probably the world, over the age of 14 has any uncertainty in the basic requirements they want in a Tiroir."

"Okay. So, your demands are, you want Tiroir, you want financial support for our kids, you want to not be humiliated. You're willing to do any sexual thing I ask, more or less. You are willing to give me as many children as we can possibly have together - at least to not actively prevent any pregnancies or births. You're willing to be a nanny and share child-raising for your kids and Jane's kids."

"That's about it."

"Special things about the Tiroir? Specifics?" Is there any subtlety here?"

"Just the official position, the notice of Family Intent, and... yeah, the income ratification. It won't mean anything if I'm a pediatrician, I'll make enough, but the guarantee for the kids is good."

"How will this affect Jane?"

"Duh. Jane's First Circle, with me. We both get Tiroir. Literally, I want a dresser in your most-often bedroom. I want naming rights of at least half my kids, standard stuff. She gets rights on her kids, we're not sharing that - those people are odd."

I had to agree even though I didn't know jack shit about 'those people'.

(honestly, it was kind of funny how every context in every multiverse has 'those people')

"It's a small but very definite request, Kevin. It's a verbal thing, but your honor is at stake if you deny or renounce, and I would not be silent, you know me... It's not that hard. Your Dad did it - only one wife, though - my dad did, too, but same for him. You have options, or ideas, about more, fine. I get that. Really, I'm not sure how this will play out. But, even though it's optional for most couples, formalities or whatever, yeah, it's gotta be clear, for us."

"Clear is good." I thought about this. I wasn't sure I had anything more I wanted to add. She was giving me what I wanted. It sounded like I just had to make sure she had an underwear drawer in my room.

She waited.

I was nervous, but it sounded like I had a lot of power, and if I didn't ask for something in the moment, I might not be able to, later. "Where were you on giving oral sex to Jane, or getting it, or doing threeway stuff?"

Her half-smile did an, 'oh, really?' at me. "Duh. First Circle is First Circle. If we are directed, you are responsible. I'll go down on any girl you name, or any guy, and I'll even bend over for another guy if we have Safety, condom or health certificate. I'm not trying to get out of anything. I just want to ... not get screwed. I've known you forever, Kevin, you're a stand-up guy. I'm not worried about this.... I mean, I'm worried, My God, but, sorta, I'm not worried, too."

I sat there a minute, thinking.

She continued, "Honestly, I didn't think it'd take this long, but you're bringing up good points. Better to have it stated nicely. Kind of inspiring me to do the long form."

Summing up things, I said simply, looking her in the eyes, "Given that I talked with Jane _first_ about marriage and haven't discussed this with her yet, all of us will have to ensure rights are balanced. Subject to that, I agree to Tiroir, First Circle."

I was worried she'd take that badly (giving me an out in case I said the wrong thing, too!), but the fact that I was concerned about Jane apparently was a good thing for Amy. She smiled in a way that lit me up and I saw tears forming. I really did love her, all through high school, and when we ended up going different directions, it left an emotional hole in me.

"I love you, Kevin."

"I love you, too, Amy." I thought for a moment and asked, "I don't know if I have any condoms."

She rolled her eyes and said, "No need, not a factor. In my 2nd week." Turning to the nightstand, she reached up to turn off the light.

I stopped her, "NO, wait - I want to watch you."

"Now? Even for my first?"

"Gonna be my first, too!" I laughed at the delightfulness of that. Really, it was and it wasn't. I'd made love ... lots of times in my life. But, not in this body, not in this place. I was happy to be getting to do what I came there to do - have a life-based do-over, and this was a hell of a great do-over!

She asked me, "Do you have a towel?"

"Uh...?"

She looked around and spotted my normal bath-towel, got it from my closet hook and spread it on the mattress. She said quietly (we were mostly talking in low tones), "...in case."

"Oh." It made sense - she was thinking ahead. Smart girl - but then again, I knew that part.

Laying down on it, she opened her arms to me and I climbed in, then on top of her. Her legs opened and I could feel I wasn't erect, so this wasn't quite right yet, but we were starting in the right place.

We kissed, and kissed, and kissed. I reached down and used my fingers on her to start with, getting her gasping, but then I changed my mind and sank down to get her going a second time.

Her reactions were even more full than the last time, and she put the pillow over her face to scream into it as she came.

I loved to make her twitch!

Panting, I let her relax her legs and crawled up her body. I was soooo turned on, my cock was ready and set to go.

Her face was a wide-open eyed, open-mouthed loving wanton desire-fueled mix of emotions, but she pulled me up and held my face in both hands, instructing me clearly: "SLOW. When I say so, start at the edge and push in as a jerk, but then stop. Mom said to give me two minutes, two full minutes, no moving. Just stay there. Don't rush me. I'll say okay, then we can go, it'll be better."

She'd talked with her mother about this.

It actually made sense, but even after my ex wife mentioned what she talked about with her mother, it surprised me how many intimate details women share.

Moving my cock-head to be between her folds, I positioned right and waited. I was almost-there. I could feel some resistance. She had to steel herself.

I got the go-ahead. I pushed, as she'd said, sharp and stop.

She screamed.

It was loud, granted, in the quiet house, and I hadn't thought about that at all. I was an idiot. I wasn't even sure if the door was locked again after going to the bathroom.

She was breathing hard, and tears immediately filled her eyes.

I just waited. My cock was surrounded by the tightest fit I'd ever experienced, or at least that I remembered, tighter than if I was gripping myself with a closed fist, maybe.

Bending down and kissing her face, I smiled at her, and her biting of her lower lip turned into a smile back at me.

Profoundly, this was a woman I knew, but who I didn't really know. In turn, she knew me, but had no way of knowing who the real me was. I was, and wasn't, the Kevin she knew.

I didn't count seconds or anything, but I knew what 2 minutes felt like.

Eventually she said, "Good, now, go ahead, but go slowly. You're the biggest thing that's ever been in there."

Shifting to slide out slightly, then in slightly, we moved against each other, and I felt the joyous gripping-happy of my cock in a hot, wet pussy. I could tell the heat was there - and the wetness, some of which had to be blood from a broken hymen. It didn't matter. The feeling was amazing, and so was she.

About a minute, maybe two, into the movement, she was grunting in satisfaction and whimpering a little with plaintive little half-cries, still looking in my eyes, and me into hers.

My hearing was attuned to the night-silence, so when I caught some small bit of noise from outside my door (the floorboard maybe?). Maybe. Could be someone was up.

It didn't matter. I wasn't going to stop. Amy and I were doing The Right Thing, and wow was it the right thing.

I kept looking at her face, waiting for her to start to get closer to an orgasm, but somehow I realized she wasn't worrying about that. She wasn't trying to get there. It didn't matter to her. I could tell, but at the same time, as much as I wanted her to orgasm, I REALLY wanted to, so I kept moving, up and IN, deep-buried, and relax and out some, then...

Yeah. Good Sex!

I built up, and got to be going faster, and eventually I came, not worrying that I was in her, I filled her, and pushed INNNNNN, Hard, Yesssss! Loved that sensation.

She kissed my cheeks as I came. Tenderness visited upon me. I gave what I had, with jerking happiness, a spastic YES to the universe.

Eventually, the fireworks behind my eyes gave way to normal darkness, then the light and happiness of her face below me. I collapsed, letting her warm arms still caress my back and pull me into her.

There wasn't much else to do except be happy, and I was happy.

She whispered (obviously happy, too, by her voice), "I need to clean up, I think."

I nodded, accepting that I had to move, and rolled carefully to the side so I didn't fall off the bed.

She shifted, and I handed her the tissue box from my bedside table. She held one in place, wiped and dabbed the way my ex-wife had, and I could see some deep red.

There was red on my cock, too, and she handed me a tissue as well.

I cleaned myself up, as did she, and we pulled up the covers again. Settling over on my side, she turned and I spooned her, the light out, the covers back up, cozy and warm.

My sense of the universe was Larger: Life was Good!

== Chapter: Sunday Morning ==

Not having a cellphone alarm is an adjustment to 1986 I wasn't ready for yet. The annoying ring of an electric motor analog alarm clock ringing is not a happy noise.

I reached up and turned it off. It said 8:00, a different time than I'd had it set for.

I was alone!

No one in the room with me?!?!

Amy's shoes were on the floor by my desk. She was still in the house, at least.

Remembering, then, I realized I had something of vital importance to learn about. Getting up and looking through my bookshelves (no internet yet!) I found a one-volume encyclopedia.

"Tiroir: A relationship agreement specifying certain culturally-defined rights between a man and a woman. A single tiroir is a single pairing of two, though frequently men have multiple simultaneous active Tiroirs. Tiroirs are negotiated, agreed, and then formalized in a ceremony with a Fair Witness. Most negotiations include stereotypical barters of childcare and householding, assurances of fealty, lifelong or defined-term monetary security, and (more typically in Europe and the Middle East) priority among wives for affection and (including their shared progeny) inheritances. See also: firstcircle, prime sisterhood, honor-binding, cane expulsion, progenical dominion, klamidem, Secondary, Secondaries, Fair Witness,"

I looked up some of those. It turned out cane expulsion is awful, but (it was good to see) limited to some southeast Asian ethnic groups.

"Klamidem: noun, a lace necklace or neck-band, sometimes with elastic, worn about the neck of the female in a tiroir. From Latin, clam (private), idem (same). Translates directly as, 'To be privately joined, one to another.' Commonly perceived as an empowerment. Asserts active pursuit of pregnancy and childbirth. Most cultures accord great deference to those wearing klamidems in the (frequently fervent) hope that this pursuit is successful. See also:..."

Moving on, I was hungry, so I got the towel from the bed - and found a bloodstain. Figuring that Mom or Amy would know how to handle that, I grabbed another and jumped in the shower. I was good at fast-showers (I wanted to know what was happening downstairs).

A clean pair of jeans and a button down shirt was good enough for Mass. I wasn't in the suit-crowd, though I remembered liking the idea of putting on a tie just to prove I knew how to tie a half-windsor.

Downstairs, I came into the kitchen to see Mom and Amy talking as Mom made hash browns.

My plate (already at the table) had two (Yes!) slices of bacon and 2 eggs over-easy (always), OJ, and a canned pear in a small dish. Pancakes and syrup were next to the stove where Mom was cooking more.

Mom greeted me first (handing the turner to Amy), and threw her arms around me like I'd been missing for days, a giant Mom-Hug. Yet, all she said was, "Good morning."

I hugged her back.

As she let go she said, "I love you, son."

I said, "I love you, too, Mom."

Amy handed the spatula back to her and gave me a hug, too, and a kiss (with my mom's back turned, almost) that reached my esophagus, and hers.

Mom saw we'd finished and continued, "Your father went to the hardware store for some more painting supplies. We decided, once the garage is drywalled, we'll need it painted, too. The trade off is, we'll ask the Clarks' to host the Basketball Fervor party this year. It's soooo expensive to get all that barbecue, it's just about even."

She was happy. I could see that. It was a contrast with the previous day where she'd been worried, almost certainly about money. I wanted to help that - but that would mean buying stocks, and I couldn't do that until Monday afternoon, at the earliest.

Amy was wearing a long flannel skirt and a white blouse that looked kind of like one that once belonged to my sister, but then I saw a strange green overnight suitcase in the corner of the kitchen.

Amy saw my eyes moving and said her mom had dropped it off that morning, with a huge red-paper note taped on the outside of the front door so we wouldn't miss it being on the front porch.

The thing was, Amy's blouse didn't hide her assets, so to speak. It was a great shirt, it had some lace and a few frills, but normally I didn't see Amy wear that kind of thing. I told her how beautiful it looked on her, then added that wasn't so much a compliment as much as it was just the truth spilling out of my mouth.

She laughed, and I loved to hear that laugh. And, seeing her smile.

Mom said, "It's a good thing, too. None of your sister's tops would fit Amy. Lane doesn't quite have the bosom that Amy does."

Amy laughed. I thought about making a joke in the voice of Bevis and Butthead, 'she said bosom!', but that cartoon pair hadn't happened yet, I was pretty sure. And, given the massive surprise of Tiroir, I figured out I'd better keep my mouth shut about cultural references until I figured out whether something was or wasn't in the history books.

We ate our breakfast, and mom told some funny family stories that I'd heard before but somehow Amy hadn't, including how my dad's father was an alcoholic who used to do woodworking and get seriously drunk in the back shed. The lesson for me, in previous tellings of this, was that it was okay to drink, but if I found I had a weakness for it, give it up altogether and I'd be saving future relatives a lot of heartache.

The fact that she was airing what was sort-of dirty laundry around Amy was surprising to me. I wasn't embarrassed by it, it was just something one of my old relatives did. Mom and Dad were sensitive, though. The idea she'd tell Amy meant, to her, that Amy was now much more included in the family and could be trusted, somehow.

I complimented the breakfast and thanked them both, and said it probably took a long time.

Mom said, "Oh, no problem. I woke up super-early, there was some loud noise in the house or outside or something. I think it was about 4:30? I couldn't go back to sleep. It was fine; I just came downstairs and read my novel for a while."

This was said with an air of utter innocence, like we weren't supposed to know what exactly she heard, that she didn't know what she heard, and that was fine. I knew perfectly well. I was 95% sure she knew what she heard, and she wasn't going to say anything so Amy wasn't embarrassed.

It might have been a message to me to keep the volume down, I wasn't sure.

Amy just kept eating, like it was nothing.

Mom just kept chewing, too, nonchalant.

I think maybe a full minute passed, I'm not sure. I might have gotten two bites in. No one said anything

Finally, Amy said calmly, "You know, Mrs. Cooper, I think that was Kevin and I having sex, about 4:30."

I almost spit out my food, and froze.