The Monogamists Ch. 05

[Recap: Henry, Jen and Anya met at work and are now an item. The story opened with Jen on her wedding day and now we're about to find out who she marries. No sex in this chapter: think of it as abstinence before the honeymoon...!]

PLAYING FOR KEEPS

We left Anya back in our apartment. In the entire year we'd all lived together, she hadn't once shown any interest in running and would probably still be in bed; the gym was more her thing. We ran the usual route, heading into the forest but then Jen ducked left onto a dirt track and we began to pick our way steadily uphill. She was fitter that I was, and I struggled to keep up and began to drop back. Jen slowed the pace but there was no witty wisecrack, which told me something was up. I puffed and panted up the last scramble until we emerged on a thin track running along the ridge. Jen slowed and then stopped.

"Let's check out the view," she said, and led the way through bushes onto a rocky outcrop. The view was breathtaking in the early morning sun. Mist still clung in the hollows, but we could see for miles across the trees all the way to the high-rise apartment blocks in the distance.

"I love it up here," Jen said. "It's so peaceful, and no-one hardly ever takes this track. You can just sit up here and think."

I moved in close to her, my hands caressing the small of her back and working down to the snug material of her skin-tight running shorts.

"We could think all day and no-one would find us," I said, caressing her bottom casually.

"Are you happy?" Jen asked, out of the blue. I felt a twinge of warning.

"Of course. Happier than I've ever been."

"I mean, sharing me with Anya." Jen looked serious now.

"I'm good," I replied, "I love you." Jen looked into my eyes, seeming to be searching, working out how to express what she needed to say. I wanted to reassure her.

"I love Anya as well," I said, "I love the both of you."

I meant it. Anya and I had certain boundaries: I understood that she wasn't bisexual and that threesomes were not on the cards, though Jen shocked me late one night when we were a couple of bottles of red wine down and after Anya had retired to bed by admitting she'd fantasised about it. Jen was excited at the thought of being made love to by both of us, explicitly mentioning that she had imagined the feeling of me thrusting deep into her pussy while she buried her tongue in Anya's folds. Fuelled by wine, Jen had gone into surprising detail as to how it would occur, what positions we would all take, and how Jen would make sure that we all came. In the end, I had no option but to strip her naked on our living room carpet and give her a concrete example of how I would hold up my end in such an arrangement.

Whenever we did make love, or when she and Anya made love, the rule was that it was not behind closed doors. This could mean Anya giving Jen a quickie on the breakfast counter or Jen and I rolling under the covers in bed with the bedroom door open. It was left up to the third person to choose to be present or not, but it meant there were no secrets.

And it was making love, not just fucking. Jen and I had established a deep connection in our lovemaking. She liked to be taken care of, which could vary from delicate oral teasing to being tied to the bed and pounded while helpless. Anya seemed to accept that the way Jen was with me was different to how she was with her. I was able to provide the tease and control games that Jen enjoyed, while Anya provided delicate, sensual, mutual explorations of each other's bodies. Sometimes Anya would join us on the bed, not participating but remaining close. Other times they would play with each other on the couch while I looked on, and then snuggle up the three of us afterwards.

So yes, I came to realise although it was in a different way to how I loved Jen that I also loved Anya, but in a way that we all knew would never be consummated.

Jen sat motionless on the rock. I watched the breeze play with her dirty blonde hair, secured by a small black hair tie into an unkempt ponytail. I sat down next to her and waited for her to compose her thoughts. I had a feeling that what she was about to say would be momentous.

"I'm not getting out of this alive," Jen said, at last.

"What?" I asked, unsettled by her ominous tone.

"I mean, this is it for me. With you. With both of you. Until death do us part."

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and drew her towards me. Jen reclined into my body easily, casually.

"But how do you feel?" Jen asked.

I took a long while to answer, aware that my next words would be life-changing.

"This is it for me too," I replied. Jen paused for a moment to contemplate then kissed me with sudden passion. She nestled further into me.

"I can't tell you how happy that makes me," she said at last. We stayed like that for a while, enjoying the early morning sunshine and the warmth of our bodies entwined. Eventually, Jen pulled back a little and propped herself up on an elbow. I could tell that there was more to come.

"It's hard though, right?" said Jen, "I mean you only have to take Lillith as an example."

Jen was convinced that Lily was still circling me, looking for a chance. Lily was inside what Anya called the circle of trust, a small group of people we all worked with who knew the full extent of our arrangement. Jen had mentioned on a few occasions that Lily would jump at the opportunity to comfort me if our three-way ever imploded, as Lily called it. Jen hated the term three-way so in private she always referred to her as Lillith, named after the demon wife of Adam, she explained.

"I can handle that," I said teasingly, to try and lighten the tone. "After all it has its benefits. I get to share my life with the two hottest women in the building."

"Don't," said Jen. I realised that there was still more to come.

She nestled her face close to mine so that she could watch my expression, and said, "What I'm about to say is going to hurt you."

My levity evaporated as I felt something deep inside give way. I braced myself.

"I...," she began, but then broke off, composed herself, continued: "I want to marry Anya."

She must have seen the shock on my face and she stuttered, "Wait! Wait. Hold on."

"What the fuck, Jen?" I pulled away from her and stood up, blindsided.

"Listen. I can explain. Please."

I looked down at her kneeling on the rock, her eyes filling with tears. I felt betrayed and humiliated. My hands clenched into fists and unclenched, seemingly of their own volition.

"Please listen," she begged. "I love you, I really love you."

"But you want to marry someone else," I spat, surprising myself with the vitriol.

"I want to marry you!" she cried.

That statement was so unexpected that I froze, trying to work through the contradictions.

"Just let me explain, please," she said, "Please just sit down and let me tell you."

Anger burned in me; I walked away a few paces then forced myself to stop, my mind still reeling. She had asked me to listen. I took a deep breath, and then another.

"Fuck!" I spat.

I forced myself to calm down and turned back to face her. Jen was by now crying freely, her face reddened, pathetic and suffering. I stared at her for what felt like an age until I felt my pounding pulse slow, and went back over to her and knelt down on the rock. I waited for her to pull her thoughts together.

"We need to think about the future," Jen began, and as she talked her voice became less strained.

I nodded for her to continue.

"You know Anya's sister is pregnant?"

"No," I replied.

"Well, she is," Jen continued, "And, like, it really hit Anya hard. She really wants kids."

I wondered at this new information. "I didn't know that," I said, "Since when?"

"Since her sister. She says she saw the bump and the clock just started ticking."

"And you've both been talking about this while I'm, I dunno, cleaning the dishes or some fucking thing? Didn't you think I'd like to know?" I felt the rage building up again. "What the fuck happened to no secrets?"

"She needs to find a father. She wants you to be the father."

I struggled to find words.

"She can't think of anyone who would make a better Daddy. And neither can I. But."

Here comes the But, I thought. Brace for impact.

"But it means things like parents' names on birth certificates, sorting life insurance, getting mortgages, all that shit. I looked into it. Anya would be the kid's mother, you would be the father and I would be nothing. I'd have no rights at all."

I could suddenly see her logic, and I could not fault it.

"If I marry her, and you're the father, we can still all have a life together with no-one on the outside. Do you see?"

My mind was racing through the implications, still reeling from the seismic shift in our relationship. I laid down on the bare rock and slowly rubbed my face with my hands. Jen waited patiently, letting me get my head around it. I should have seen this coming. I should have been thinking ahead. But Jen had already done that I realised: not just a few months, but years. Of course, there would be kids and mortgages and, I don't know, fucking pipes and slippers all the way down the line. I just hadn't expected it to arrive now. I hadn't expected to have to deal with it.

Eventually I sat up. Jen was watching me closely with a fragile energy that I had rarely ever seen, waiting for my answer.

"Okay," I said, taking her hands in mine, "I get it."

"If I could marry two people I would. But I can't," said Jen, distraught.

"Yeah," I replied, "It's pretty fucked up."

She drew a long shuddering breath. "It means that someone has to get hurt," she said, "And I knew you could take it. Anya can't."

It was cruel, but it was also true, I conceded to myself. "So you're saying I just need to harden the fuck up."

Jen's eyes were still bright with tears but her mouth twitched into the beginning of a smile.

"There are some countries where I could take both of you as wives," I said, trying to lighten the mood and disperse the awful adrenaline surge that I was now coming down from.

Through the tears, Jen's face brightened. "You mean you'd fold me into your harem," she joked.

She bent forward to kiss me.

"I fucking love you," she whispered.

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