Frankie put her hand on my bare leg and left it there. I was on my fifth or sixth beer and it was easier for me to open into the warmth of her palm. I wanted more of her hand caressing my upper thigh. I wanted more beer, and to let go deeper into the warmth of her skin against mine.
Frankie leaned in to kiss me. I closed my eyes. At first, I felt the same emptiness. There was a sense that I was kissing a person, and there was an excitement about our mouths touching, but my mind understood that the feeling was only physical. I reached out to touch her neck and leaned in to kiss her harder. I had seen this in movies, and while it looked very romantic and passionate, mostly I felt her teeth beneath her lips. She moved her hands around my body and then there was another pair of hands. These hands were larger, rougher, and there was a firmness in them like they were corded with muscle. It gave me the distinct feeling of being worshipped. It was more comforting than any I had felt before—sleeping in on Sunday morning in a mess of blankets, snorting Percocet and watching PBS, eating a whole bag of Doritos without having to share. More comforting than memories of my dad. Matt was behind me, and I felt encased, like the yolk of an egg.
Frankie moved her hand to reach inside of me. The sharp point of her fingers was uncomfortable at first. After that first feeling, I seemed to pour into her hands. I attempted to move my hips in a circular motion, to find a pace where things felt good, but her hands were clumsy and it was like she didn’t understand what she was touching.
I began to perform for them. I gave moans that seemed believable, and kept rocking my hips in a circular motion. The repetitive motion of sex that sounded like it felt good but felt only half decent reverberated through my mind. The sex became an absurd echo in which I was a caricature of myself.
I focused on the parts that did feel good, like Frankie’s lips against mine at that same time as the warmth of Matt’s hands enveloped my body, or the feel of his lips and teeth against my neck while he heaved his clothed body against my skin..
That they were both clothed and I was not seemed an obvious barrier, an indication of what my place would be in this relationship. But my performance worked. Frankie’s hands were inside me like she wanted to leave something there. I thought about the way Matt’s eyes looked up at me when he tattooed me, the needles going in and out of my skin. As he rubbed his hands down my body, I made a high-pitched noise like something in a piano snapping. I didn’t say anything. I thought about the tattoo, the needles, his hands stretching and unstretching my skin.
I slowly sobered. I felt cold, and colder still looking at Matt and Frankie fully dressed. When it seemed that Matt and Frankie were not going to remove their own clothes, I eventually pulled away from kissing Frankie. I told them it was getting late.
They seemed surprised that it ended so abruptly. The momentum decayed, and their lack of expectation left me wanting. I no longer knew if I should move the action forward or halt it, or what they had planned for the evening. It seemed ending it would be the right step so they could continue on their own without me.
I stood up from the couch and grabbed my clothes. Frankie smiled at me. I mirrored her warmth because I didn’t know what else to do.
“Are you okay?” Frankie asked.
“Yeah—no, I’m good,” I said. “It’s just I’m tired, I have to work tomorrow, and my mom is probably wondering where I am.” The last sentence was a lie, but it sounded plausible.
“Do you need a ride?” Matt asked.
“No, I’ll be good,” I said.
I pulled on my jeans and buttoned them, and then put on my bra. I lamented the awkward way I always fastened the back of the bra at the front of my chest, before twisting the bra around the right way and then putting on the straps. I wasn’t sure if it said anything about my lack of femininity or finesse.
“I appreciate it so much,” I added. “I love how warm you guys are. I want to see you again soon.”
I paused after putting on my bra, and moved my fingers through my hair, shaking it out.
“God, you’re like a wild demon woman,” Frankie said.
I did not feel like a wild demon woman at all, but I wanted to come back. I liked the comforting feeling of them on either side of me, but wondered how these two people could find me attractive when I felt such an intense dislike for myself. I questioned it, but I didn’t let it hold me back.
When I left, Frankie kissed me on the mouth and Matt hugged me. I thought perhaps me leaving was a good thing, since in a way the evening felt incomplete and it would make them want to see me again.
THE THING ABOUT BOUNDARY ISSUES IS THAT YOU END UP FUCKING YOUR FRIENDS OR MAYBE EVERYONE YOU KNOW
ALTHOUGH I HAD ALREADY been sleeping with Sam for a few months, I still felt an intense need for his continuous approval. It got worse when I noticed he had also been flirting with Jenny, which I couldn’t get mad about since no one really knew about our arrangement. One night he invited both of us to a midnight pool party at his apartment complex. I showed up alone, in the hopes that everyone else might go home early so Sam and I could have sex.
I recognized a couple
