Atlantea Ch. 06

A blissful two weeks passed by; Calista and I were inhabiting a little universe all our own. At her behest, I brought over several changes of clothes, as well as my toiletries, all but abandoning my own apartment.

We went dancing several times each week. Still obsessed with "Strictly Ballroom", she wanted to try that style, which I was more than happy to facilitate. In years past I had been conscripted to be one of my sister's ballroom dance partners, so I was already proficient at the Tango, Cha-Cha, and Waltz.

Calista also enjoyed going to bookstores, movie theaters, the gym, post-gym massages, and early-morning hikes in the nearby state parks. We even had fun doing chores together, such as washing dishes, or going to the pharmacy. We fell out of contact with the outside world, beyond showing up at our respective places of work.

Of the many odd aspects of our nascent relationship, perhaps the most singular was our ability to fall sleep together, into what I can only describe as a sort of cocoon-like state. We noticed this phenomenon on the second night that the two of us slept in her bed. It was late, and after hours of passionate intercourse, Calista was about to get up, or rather have me carry her, to go take a shower, as she had on the previous night. My flaccid penis was fully lodged inside her. She was drenched in sweat, more so than I'd ever witnessed on another person.

"Um, this might seem kinda weird," I said, "But could you wait until morning to shower?"

"Jason, I am covered in perspiration!"

"I know, and if you're too uncomfortable to give it a try, of course that's fine. But there is something kinda flower-like about how you smell right now."

"That is unexpected; growing up, another of the derisive nicknames my cousins bestowed upon me was related to my bodily odor after exercise."

"All I can say is it smells and tastes sweet to me; the thought of you washing it all off seems, I dunno, sad."

"Tell me, male, what precisely do I smell like to you?"

"It's hard to say ... roses, maybe?"

Calista laughed.

"'That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet; So Jason would, were he not Jason call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes, without that title. Jason, doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee, take all myself.'"

I only dimly realized she was riffing on a line from a Shakespeare play; I could not recall which one.

"Is there anything you don't know?" I asked, marveling.

"It is merely a lucky coincidence," she said modestly, "I played the part of Juliet in a school production, during what you would call high school."

"Who played Romeo?"

Excited by her display of intellectual prowess, I had begun to nibble and kiss her left earlobe.

"A girl named Athena, as it was. Suitably 'wrapped', shall we say, as she was heavy in the bust, even by local standards. Now stop that, male," she said, referring to my ear-play, "or you will roust my libido again."

A few beats went by, then Calista continued.

"In any case. I am willing to attempt to sleep in this position. But if I become too uncomfortable, and it keeps me awake, I shall request that you carry me to the bathroom to wash myself."

"Deal!"

Calista slid her long legs back between mine, and snaked her ankles around, such that I was locked in place. She then gathered my hands in front of her, intertwined her fingers in mine, and pulled me forward, plastering my chest into her soaking wet back.

"If you like my perspiration so much, the least you can do is to keep me warm, male."

Within three minutes she was softly snoring. Every so often, her pussy contracted around me, in its unique, front-to-back rolling fashion. I lay away for about ten minutes, certain that I would have to disengage from her before being able to fall asleep myself. Under normal circumstances, I thrash around a lot before falling asleep, something my former partners pointed out often. But I was unsure how to actually accomplish that. Her powerful legs would be impossible to break free from, unless I woke her up, and furthermore, my penis was too long to withdraw fully from within her vagina; I lacked the range of motion to move my hips back far enough.

As I lay there, I unconsciously began to take deeper and deeper breaths, sucking in from my diaphragm. With each inhalation, I took in more of the heady, rose-like scent of her perspiration, until, eventually, all I could think about was an image of a light red rosebud.

I awoke with a start, certain that only a few minutes had passed since the rose dream, but daylight was streaming around the blinds. Impossibly, we were in the same position that we had been in the night before. Calista was snoring softly, and her vagina was still pulsing from time to time. My cock felt like it was coated with something slimy, and I wondered if I had somehow ejaculated inside her during the night. A small puddle of cum had gathered on the sheet under her left hip.

Calista proved difficult to wake up. I could only move a little, and as I levered my chest back, I found that our skin had adhered overnight. Separating our bodies felt like pulling off a strip of medical tape, and I was thankful that I had no chest hairs to rip out. Still breathing heavily, Calista whined faintly and snuggled back against me.

"Calista," I said, at last, "I think it might be time to get up."

She responded with a purring sound, and only after a few more attempts did she finally open her left eye.

"Bad male, let me sleep," she said, closing her eye again.

"I think we'll be late for work," I chided.

"As you wish, then, cruel taskmaster!" she said, pouting.

She untangled her legs from mine, and it felt like she was pulling off an enormous adhesive bandage when our skin disengaged.

"I believe our sexual organs copulated of their own accord, overnight," Calista observed, as she levered her pussy off of my cock.

Sure enough, as the tip of my penis exited her vaginal opening, a torrent of sperm flooded out after it.

"Perhaps twice, I think," she added.

Calista was sitting, cross-legged, on the bed, spreading her outer vagina lips with her fingers, and bending forward to observe. Both of our sex organs were crusted with dried semen.

"Are you normally such a good sleeper?" I asked. "Because I'm definitely not. I think that's the first time I've woken up in the same position I went to sleep in, maybe in my entire life. Except this one night I had the flu real bad."

"I have always suffered from insomnia, myself," Calista said. "There is something about your proximity that appears to have a soporific effect on me. When we are not engaging in vaginal intercourse, that is."

* * *

Neither of us had spent so much time with any one person before, at least not a comparative stranger. Thinking back to my time with Meg, my most serious partner, I could not recall a period where we were together every possible moment, as Calista and I had been for nearly fourteen days.

Each evening, we went to bed in the same position as we had on that second night, and every morning we woke up with cum-covered sex organs. If anything, the effects of sleeping together in this manner became more extreme as the days went by. I found that after she wrapped her legs behind mine, and I began to inhale her scent more deeply, I was no longer able to stay awake for anywhere close to ten minutes, even if I tried. The rosebud dream would come to me moments after I closed my eyes. In the morning, likewise, we both noticed that the volume of cum to leak from her pussy was increasing, as was the side of the puddle that would inevitably accumulate around her hip.

"It would appear our bodies are adapting to each other," Calista mused. "We do not need to be awake to have vaginal intercourse. I believe the volume of semen leaking from my canal indicates three, or possibly four, ejaculations took place last night."

Similarly, the adhesive effect that her perspiration caused between our skin had grown stronger. Separating our bodies in the morning became almost painful, after the first week, although fortunately the effect did not continue to get any worse from there.

Even during working hours, we texted each other frequently, resulting in nearly round-the-clock contact. Both of us brought up the concern that we might be taking things too far, too fast, in our relationship, but, somehow, whenever there came a natural opportunity to part for a while, neither felt like it.

As the third week of our relationship began, I detected a slight change in Calista's demeanor. One of the many factors behind our mutual appeal was the degree to which, despite being so new to each other, we could read each other's moods and intentions. I could tell she was worrying about something, but she deflected whenever I asked. Since she was not forthcoming, I developed the theory that she did, after all, feel a need to take a break from me, and was simply being reluctant to hurt my feelings.

"I need to take my car to the shop," I said one day. "You're welcome to come with me, but it's going to be pretty dull, so I won't be offended if you wanna do something else."

The old car needed an oil and brake fluid change, but I could have put these items off. My true intention was to give Calista a plausible excuse to take time for herself.

"I would rather join you," she said. "It sounds interesting."

On the ride to the shop, we fell into a long, meandering conversation. It ranged from discussing grad student life, to a debate about whether Donovan Sargeant, the UFC fighter, was underrated, to talking about sex, and then, strangely, talking about Australian mammals and marsupials. This was typical for us.

Once at the shop, Calista asked if she could see the area where the automobiles were repaired. Although there was a clearly posted sign marked "Employees Only Beyond This Point" next to the door to the work bays, the burly man behind the counter was only too happy to let my gorgeous companion through. He pointedly checked out her curvy ass as she disappeared thru the doorway. Once inside, she seemed fascinated by the tools hanging on the wall, the hydraulic lifts, and the half-assembled vehicles. Several mechanics gathered around her, more than happy to satisfy her curiosity.

* * *

In the evening, after we had returned to her apartment, I finally found out what was bothering her. When I did, it felt like I had been hit on the forehead by a two-by-four.

We were sitting on couch watching Netflix on the large flat-screen TV, Calista lying with her head resting on my chest, with her legs extended out in front of her, between my own. My phone, which I had neglected to silence earlier, emitted a meowing ringtone that indicated the Twins just texted me.

"What is that?"

"Whoops, I forgot to silence it," I said, pausing the show.

We were watching "The Witcher", and the hero, Geralt, was presently naked, with his lover and sometime nemesis Yennefer having cast a spell of control on him. I picked up my phone from the cushion next to me to check out their message. Of course, both of us could read it.

"What does 'booty call' mean?" Calista asked.

I was not worried that she would be upset; I had already explained what the Twins and I had gotten up to in the past, without leaving out any particulars. I am sure she also had a rough idea what "booty call" signified, and was, instead, curious about the etymology of the term.

"Oh, it's just slang, maybe African-American? For getting together for sex," I explained. "I'll say 'no', of course."

I felt her body go rigid. My heart began to race.

"Why would you say 'no'?" she said, her voice taking on an edge I had never heard before.

"You and I seem pretty serious, so, I guess I don't want to mess anything up?"

"Why would that 'mess up' our relationship?" she asked, frostily.

I knew, from experience, when a fight was about to start, but I was still mystified about what the underlying problem might be.

"Y'know, when people get serious, they usually, y'know, don't see other people," I explained.

"Is that what this is about?"

"Yeah, I mean, we are having such a good time together, I don't wanna ruin it."

"So you are ignoring your friends? Does that seem healthy, to you?"

"I think they would understand."

"Perhaps. But I, for one, do not understand. Where I come from, the idea of exclusive relationships is considered exceedingly ... undesirable, bordering on immoral."

She lifted off of me, then sat back down, next to me, so that she could make eye contact.

"I think this is as good a time as any will be," she said. "You have been asking me if something is wrong, and your perceptions are correct. I have a date with a man from work in a few days. I do not feel serious about him the way I do with you, but he is beautiful, and I am curious what it will be like to have vaginal intercourse with him. Of course, unlike with you, we will use prophylaxis. I suspected this would upset you, and was unsure how broach the subject."

"What?" I said, unable to keep rising anger from my voice, even as I knew I was being ridiculous; what right did I have to expect someone to be exclusive to me after only a few weeks?

She took my hands.

"Jason, I am not seeking your permission in any way."

"I never said you needed to!" I interrupted, voice now fiery.

"It is obvious that it is upsetting you, and the implication of ignoring your friends' call for sexual activity is that you consider it immoral for a serious couple to have other sexual partners."

"I..." I began, but was not actually sure what I thought, I simply felt an iron grip around my heart.

"Jason," she began again. "I would not be saying any of this if I did not feel ... strongly about you. I have never experienced anything of this nature before."

"I haven't either!" I interrupted, hoping to justify my anger.

She smiled wanly, but continued before I could launch into my own exposition.

"For this reason, I believe the question of polyamory must be settled now. As painful as it would be to part from you now, that is nothing compared to the trauma it would cause both of us to split up after becoming yet closer."

"Who even is this guy?" I could not help but blurt out.

"That is my business," she said curtly, "although I will be happy to inform you about our activities afterwards."

I did not know what to say, I simply felt anger coursing through my veins. The smarter part of me knew this to be irrational, but the best these better angels of mine could do was to get me to shut up.

"Jason," she continued, "much as I do not wish it, I believe the best course of action is for us to separate until Friday. By that time, I will have copulated with my colleague. I strongly urge you to see your friends and have sexual relations with them. If our relationship is to blossom, it will not be sufficient for you to simply tolerate my polyamorous nature without taking part yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"If you do not embrace polyamory for yourself, it will create ... toxicity between us. You will become a sort of, what is the word?" she thought for a moment. "You will become a martyr."

Wordlessly, I got up and walked to the front door.

"I truly hope to see you on Friday," she called to my retreating back, unable to keep sadness out of her voice.

As I exited the parking garage of Calista's building, I felt a mixture of loneliness, rage, depression and self-pity. Being apart from her was already eating away at me, akin to having a limb removed. Yet at the same time, images of some virile hunk of a man pounding away at my beloved, flashed unbidden in front of my mind's eye, and nothing I could do could get them to go away. It seemed so unfair, her springing this on me, before our relationship had a chance to deepen.

I texted the Twins back, deciding at last to accept their offer. It seemed like if things were going to work out between Calista and me, I would be doing this anyway. And if our relationship was doomed, I might as well at least enjoy myself. We agreed to meet at their condo the following evening, a Tuesday.

That night, alone in my bed for the first time in weeks, I thrashed around for hours, not falling asleep until after 3AM, when utter exhaustion finally overtook me. Not only was I endlessly cycling through the events of the day, I found it hard to relax at all without being near Calista. My room smelled stale, compared to the flower scent she gave off when sweaty, and I felt oddly unsettled, like all of my muscles were slightly sore, and no position felt comfortable for long.

* * *

Even with nearly twenty-four hours to recover from my argument with Calista, I was still upset and emotional when ushered in through the Twins' front door. The beautiful, fully naked women had decided to dye their delta-shaped bushes a vibrant blond color. Just looking at them gave me a raging erection. I began to take off my pants, but by the time I'd gotten them down below my knees, my penis sticking straight out, Alicia held out an arm, palm facing me, indicating I should stop.

"Ooh, he's vibin', Rube!" she said.

"Negative energy central," Ruby confirmed.

"What's goin' on, Tee?" Alicia continued, "You get in a fight with KGB Girl?"

"KGB... What?" I asked.

"Your new lady friend," Ruby clarified.

I explained the nature of my argument with Calista. Both women put their arms down by their sides, which had formerly been on their hips, and their faces adopted a serious mien.

"And you thought you could come here for a sympathy fuck?" Ruby said.

"No, I--", I stammered.

"Don't lie, Tee. And next time, don't bring your martyr ass here just 'cuz you think you own some woman's vagina."

There was that word again, "martyr".

"I--", I tried again to interject, now angrier than ever.

"Zzt zzt zzt!" Alicia said, imitating a bee. "Stop talking. And get out. We ain't your fucking therapists!"

Storming out of someone's residence can be difficult to pull off, with dignity, even at the best of times. It is nearly impossible to do with your pants down below your knees and your dick hanging out in front of you. Humiliated, I got myself dressed, turned around, and left. I felt too lame, by this point, even to slam the door behind me.

I drove home but elected not to climb the stairs back up to my cheap, lonely apartment. Instead, I wandered the city on foot for hours. I was paying little attention to my surroundings, replaying endlessly, in my mind, the argument with the Twins, the argument with Calista, and what seemed like a personal, internal sex tape of her having sex with her new fuck buddy.

Sometime around midnight, I found myself in front of a warehouse, looking out over a major waterway that ran thru the city. A thick fog had rolled in, lending a surreal air to my surroundings. I took a deep, cool breath, and for the first time since leaving Calista's apartment, felt a semblance of rationality. I needed to talk to Phoebe.

"P," I wrote on my phone, "Calista and I had a fight. I'm struggling -- do you have time to meet after work tomorrow or something?"

Phoebe must have been asleep, or unsure how to respond, because I did not hear from her until the next morning. Being in bed before midnight was unusual for her; my best guess was that being pregnant was making her too tired to indulge her night-owl ways.

* * *

"Sure," read the text I received the next morning, "swing by after eight if ya want."

When I arrived that evening, Phoebe led me to the woodworking room, which had once been a garage. I tried to talk on the way there, but she held up a hand. Once we entered the shop, I again tried to open my mouth, and again she stopped me. Instead, she started to disrobe. To my surprise, she took off every article of clothing. Normally, except when her wife made her, she only removed her top.