The Ties that Bind

Hey, all. Life has been kicking my ass the last year and more, including the loss of a considerable number of my files--among that number being, alas, everything pertaining to Rob Andrews and his story. I have a general sense of where I was going, but I no longer know anything more than you do; I'll have to recreate/replace the work I'd done before I can move forward with that particular story. In the meantime, as proof of my continued existence, here's a quickie. It is at least tangentially connected to Rob, so maybe we'll see these characters again at some point.

I stared down at my phone and struggled hard to wrestle down my temper. The message from my roommate read: I won't be home tonight--working late ;) with Nissa. Maybe u can use the space to get laid for once.

Fuming, I put my phone away and managed not to scream. I could strangle Ted right now... I tried to derail my revenge fantasy by telling myself he wasn't worth going to jail for, but myself had an unanswerable rejoinder: No jury in the world would convict me.

Ted shared my apartment, but not because I'd planned it that way. When my fiancée and I finished our respective grad programs, we both had job offers from various places around the country. The best one for me was from a counseling practice back in Clarksburg, where we had done our undergrad; she had a strong offer in Clarksburg as well from an environmental engineering firm there, and we made the decision together to accept those offers and move back.

--At least, I thought we did. I went ahead to go apartment-hunting, and found one I liked well enough that she encouraged me to go ahead and sign a lease. I signed the lease, started work, and waited for her to join me... and got a letter breaking off our engagement. Apparently she'd started having second thoughts after accepting my proposal, but instead of facing me with them, she decided to wait until I was locked in place somewhere and just--not go with me.

I was stunned and hurting, but I was also in trouble. I was indeed locked in, having signed a two-year lease to keep the rent down, but it was still a lot more than I could manage on my income. Plus, I really liked that apartment. Not only was I unable to give it up, I didn't want to. I didn't want that to be one last thing my ex had taken away from me.

(It's an interesting building. The bottom two floors are a rectangle, which includes the lobby for the apartment complex but is mostly given over to shops and offices; an underground parking garage has a keycard-secured section for the apartments, with the rest providing parking for the businesses in the building. The apartment tower is diamond-shaped, with a large bank of elevators near the northwestern tip--where, as a side note, my apartment is. There are apartments around the outside of each floor, of course, but there's also a circle of apartments on the inside which surround a central atrium--an atrium which goes all the way down to greenspace on the ground floor of the building. I'm not sure exactly how they keep it thriving, but the Opryland Hotel has been doing something on a much larger scale for a long time now, so it's not a new accomplishment.)

I asked my new colleagues, and one of them had a friend who had a friend who had money and was looking for a place. I met with Ted Vavros, he seemed fine, so we came to an agreement. It was under the table, I didn't go to all the trouble of adding him to the lease, but I knew the landlords wouldn't mind as long as they got their money.

After a while, though, I was regretting the bargain. I gradually realized--well, if you're familiar with the enneagram, Ted is a classic Three, and not one of the admirable examples of the type. He's almost preternatually good at reading a person or a room and being whoever he needs to be to get the results he wants; unfortunately, he's not unduly burdened by scruples or any perceived need for authenticity. Equally unfortunately, alas, I was unduly burdened by financial realities, at least when it came to the possibility of kicking him out. Legally, I could do it--especially since he was usually behind on his share of the rent--but I needed the money, even if he was laggard in providing it.

While I didn't like Ted, that's not the biggest reason I regretted living with him--that would be his girlfriend Shayna Reeves. That's not because I didn't like Shay, though... it's because I was smitten with her from about the first moment I saw her, and my feelings for her only deepened over time. Part of that was physical, as she's a tall, beautiful redhead with curves that could stop traffic, but there was far, far more to it than that. Shay is intelligent and funny--she's kind and gentle, but has a caustic sense of humor and an unsparing way of going right to the point. Her field is financial analysis, and I don't understand half of what she says, but when she says something is going to happen, it usually does. More importantly (to me, at least), she's one of the most loving people I've ever met. It physically hurt to see her with Ted.

I could understand why she was, as he's an impressive physical specimen himself. He's a few inches above six feet and built like a basketball player, with olive skin and Greek-god features. I knew I couldn't compete; I'm pale and bespectacled, and while I'm in good shape, I'm built like the rower I am: slender in the arms and torso, thick through my hips and thighs. Strong back, good power in the legs, good core strength to hold me through the stroke, but not the classic trapezoid or whatever it is. Why would Shay look twice at me when she could look at Ted? All the same, I wished desperately that she would.

Shay had her own place, but she spent a lot of time at ours (I think because it was nicer). I loved having her around, but I also hated it. I wanted all the time with her I could get, and at the same time it was torture. It's a very good thing for me that I didn't have to listen to them fucking. I don't know if Ted would have been considerate enough to confine that to his room, but she was, and the apartment is V-shaped; though the bedrooms are obviously connected, on a straight line, they're separated by two hallways and part of the bank of elevators.

No, I didn't have to listen to them fucking... but I did have to live with the knowledge that Ted was fucking around on Shay. He hadn't said so explicitly, but I knew, and he'd figured out that I wasn't going to tell on him. I doubt he had any idea why I hadn't, and couldn't bring myself to do so, but he was clear on the fact, at any rate. If I'd had proof he was cheating on her, it would have been another matter, but I didn't; and if I told Shay I knew he was cheating when I had no solid basis for saying so, the logical question would be, why was I telling her? And at least part of the reason would be that I wanted her to be with me instead. It would have been self-serving, and I couldn't do it.

That sense of honor was probably stupid. My friends would have laughed at me if I'd ever tried to articulate it to any of them, and they would have had reason. They would have told me I should do what our friend Amy did when she declared, "All's fair in love and war, and this is war!" She was right that the girl Geoff had just asked to marry him was really bad for him, and she was definitely right that he and Amy made a far better couple; Geoff and Amy married about a month after we graduated, and they have the strongest, truest marriage I know. I was certainly right that Ted was bad for Shay, and I thought I could fairly say that I would be much better for her--but I wanted that to be true so badly, I couldn't trust it, and I couldn't upend her life for my own selfish desires.

With all that, there were two things about Ted's text that completely infuriated me. One was his evident assumption that I wasn't getting laid regularly because I couldn't find anyone willing. No, you idiot, I wanted to say, I'm not getting laid because the only girl I want to fuck is dating your worthless ass. I obviously couldn't say that, though, and there was nothing else to be said. The other was the fact that Ted had clearly decided it was safe to come out and tell me he was going to go fuck a coworker (he'd talked about Nissa before, in terms which were flattering from a certain point of view) rather than his wonderful girlfriend, and what did that say about me? But what was I going to do, track Shay down and show her the text?

Needless to say, I was in a foul mood when I pulled into the parking garage. Ted's space was empty, of course, but to my surprise, Shay's car was there. When he moved in with me, Ted had talked me into signing up for a third parking spot for his girlfriend, promising he would pay for it--a promise he hadn't kept with any sort of faithfulness, of course. I'd never had the heart to complain because Shay used it often, and I wouldn't have wanted her parking on the street instead. I couldn't imagine why she would be over, though, when Ted was elsewhere. I'd agreed to give her her own keycard, so she could come and go as she would, but it's not like she ever showed up just to see me when he wasn't home.

I walked into the apartment to see a hand-lettered sign reading, I'm waiting for you in bed. Come get your surprise. My heart sank. What the fuck was Ted pulling here? I kicked off my shoes, not bothering to put them in the closet, and turned left into the kitchen. I went through into the little hallway and knocked on the door. "Shay?" I called.

"Ben?" she asked, sounding panicked. "Don't come in! I'm waiting for Ted!"

I sighed, feeling a ten-ton weight on my chest. "Shay, that's what I have to tell you--he's not coming home tonight. He texted me earlier to tell me."

"What?" she wailed. "But I told him--" Her voice cut off abruptly. After a very long moment, she asked, "What happened? Is he hurt? Is it an emergency?"

"No, I­--" I began, then cut myself off. "I don't want to get into it," I began again, "but he's fine, I promise."

"But I told him I would be waiting for him!" Shay cried. "I told him I had a special surprise for him!"

I leaned against the door, my forehead resting on the wood. "Oh, Shay," I groaned, "I'm so sorry."

"Call my friend Laney!" she yelled in return. "Please?"

"Shay, I don't know her number," I shot back, emotion making me exasperated. "I don't have any of your contacts!"

"Look it up on my phone--" she said urgently, then caught her breath. "Fuck. It's in here with me..."

"Shay, is there any way I can help you?" I asked.

A long, pregnant silence followed. Finally, I heard her say, "This is so fucking embarrassing... but Ben, I know I can trust you, and I don't have any other choice. Please... come get me out of this..."

I opened the door, and whatever I might have expected, it wasn't what I saw: Shay on her back, completely naked, with a blindfold covering her eyes, tied to the bed. She had soft cuffs around her wrists and ankles, with cords binding her in a spreadeagled position. I'm male, I couldn't help noticing she was even more spectacular than I had imagined; her tits were huge, crowned with rosy-pink nipples surrounded by oval areolae, and her glistening pussy was capped with a neatly-trimmed triangle of red fur. Any urge to arousal, however, was quashed by the tormented, embarrassed expression on her beautiful face. "I wanted to surprise him," she lamented. "The sex hasn't been so great lately--I didn't seem to be holding his interest--I thought maybe I wasn't doing enough... I wanted to do this for him... where is he?"

"Oh, love," I said, my heart breaking for her--then I froze when I realized what I had said. I need to fight my way through this before she realizes it too, I thought. "I'm so sorry... Ted is spending the night with his coworker Nissa. I've suspected he was cheating on you with her--and a few other girls--but I wasn't sure... but he pretty much told me so when he texted me. I'm sorry..."

Shay froze solid for a long moment, then started weeping softly. I longed to comfort her, but I couldn't imagine how. Then suddenly the weeping transmuted into a furious, hissing question, "Why didn't you tell me?"

I managed to throttle myself down enough to keep from yelling at her, but I could hear the intensity in my voice as I shot back, "And what the fuck would I have said, Shay? 'I know your boyfriend is cheating on you. No, I can't prove it, but just trust me, I know what I'm talking about. How do I know? Well, I just do, that's all.' Would you have believed me? Fuck no, you wouldn't have! And why should you have? Your next question would have been, why was I saying that if I had no evidence--and what would I have said to that?"

She heaved a deep sigh and was quiet for what seemed like hours. Then she floored me by saying, "Ben? You called me 'love.'"

My heart dropped through my stomach. "I'm sorry, Shay," I started gabbling, but she cut me off.

"I trust you, Ben," she said quietly. "Tell me the truth."

Fuck, I thought. Nothing for it. "All right," I gave in with a sigh. "Please don't feel any pressure or anything, I don't want anything at all to threaten our friendship--but yes... Shay, I've been smitten with you since I first met you, and all I've done since is fall steadily in love with you. If you had asked me that question, I would have been scared to death that the real reason was, 'Because I want it to be true because I want you to love me instead of Ted.' And if that was really the case, it would have made me no better than him."

"No," Shay disagreed softly, "that's not true at all. But that's not what I meant--though you did answer what I meant. I wanted to know if you really love me, and if that's why you did everything you did." I had nothing to say to that, so I didn't say it. After a moment, a small smile quirked at the corner of her mouth and she continued, "I think all this time, I've been sleeping in the wrong bedroom."

"I've certainly thought so," I muttered. I thought I was quiet enough she wouldn't hear me, but when she smirked, I knew I'd been wrong. I blushed furiously, grateful Shay couldn't see it through the blindfold. I fell silent, part of me wishing I could sink into the floor--and part of me wishing I had the guts to sink my cock into her wet pussy.

"Ben?" Shay asked, her voice low. "Could you let me out so I can get dressed? I think we have more to talk about."

I felt a sudden urge, and without stopping to think, I went with it. "I want to do something else first--something I should have done a long time ago."

I got on the bed and bent down to kiss her. It started off soft, but Shay responded almost immediately, kissing me back with a passion that stunned me. When I pulled away to catch my breath, she said urgently, "Touch me, Ben. Touch me everywhere. Kiss me everywhere."

My cock was already achingly hard, but Shay's words were nearly enough to rip my pants. I was perilously close to losing it--I needed to master myself if I wanted to treat her as well as she deserved. An idea flashed into my mind, and once again I just went with it. "I need to get something for you, love," I said. "I'll be right back."

She looked frustrated, but also intrigued. "Only if you do something for me first," she said.

"Anything," I promised.

"Strip," Shay commanded. "If you want to leave me, you have to leave your clothes here." She didn't need eyes to tell her how quickly I got naked; her renewed smirk told me that.

On my desk in the living room was an old-fashioned glass inkwell on a metal stand with a quill. I'm a family therapist trained in Bowen theory, also known as family systems theory. Not long after I joined the counseling practice here in Clarksburg, I was introduced to Rob Andrews, who had an amateur interest in Bowen theory--he wasn't a practitioner, but he had studied it a fair bit. We hit it off and got to be pretty good friends. When I found out he was a published author, I commented wistfully that I had always wanted to write a book. A few weeks later, he gave me the inkwell with the declaration, "This is to inspire you." It mostly sat on the back corner doing nothing of the sort, but that day, it inspired me, alright... though not in the way Rob had in mind.

I grabbed the quill and returned quickly to the bedroom. I began teasing the soles of Shay's feet with the tip of the feather. She writhed and twisted and giggled, but of course she couldn't get away. "You're evil," she accused me, barely able to get the words out. I didn't say anything, just trailed the feather up the inside of one leg. She started really squirming when I got close to her quim, which was starting to leak; I moved the feather down to the other ankle and trailed it back up that leg, and she groaned. This time when I reached the top of her leg, I traced a line up over the curve of her pelvis to the outside of her hip, and then up her side.

I drew the feather all over Shay's big melons, watching the tip trace out her opulent curves. She giggled and squealed at the touch, then moaned when I brushed it across a turgid nipple. I flicked it over to the other one, and she moaned louder. Her nipples had elongated into pegs which looked deliciously suckable; when I circled them with the feather, they grew a little more yet.

"Hmmm," I said judiciously. "I think your nipples need painting."

"What?" Shay asked, sounding dazed and confused. I answered her by dipping the feather into her glistening sex, tickling her clit to make her gasp and then trailing it through her nectar. I coated her nipples with her juices, then bent my head to lap them clean. She moaned loudly and begged me to suckle her, but I kept to just the tongue at first, swirling it around her rosy peaks. I couldn't hold myself back for long, however; soon the feather was on the bed and my mouth was full of her soft, springy titflesh. I caressed the other tit, thumbing her nipple, and started fucking her with my fingers--gently at first, but not for long. She moaned and cried out my name, begging for more.

When I shifted down to eat her out, Shay cried out, "Ben, wait!" I froze, briefly panicked, and looked up at her face. "Take off the blindfold," she said urgently. "Please, baby, take it off."

Confused, I sat back on my heels. "Why?" I asked.

"Because--" she began. "When I asked you to help me--I couldn't have done it without the blindfold. I couldn't see you, so it could be--impersonal, somehow. I could make believe you couldn't see me either; I didn't have to see the fact that I was naked, or the look in your eyes. I just stuffed down my emotions and tried to get through it.

"But I don't want that anymore. I don't want this to be impersonal. I want to see you; I want to see how you look at me, I want to watch you eat my pussy. I want to look into your eyes. I can't tell you I love you, but you've already said that to me, and I want to see it. Ted never loved me--I have to face that, and really, I know I never saw that look in his eyes. I want to see it in yours. I want to feel what that looks like. I want to be with you. Please, baby, let me see you."

I brushed the water roughly from my eyes and moved up, reaching down tenderly to take off the blindfold. I looked deep into Shay's beautiful sea-green eyes, seeing them wet as well, and bent down to kiss her tears away. I put another pillow under her head, raising her up so she could better watch what I was about to do. She whispered her thanks. "No matter what, I will always love you," I murmured in her ear; as I slid back down her body to bury my face in her cleft, I heard her weeping softly. At the touch of my lips and tongue, the tears quickly gave way to shuddering breaths and a long "Ooooooh..."