Twenty-four hours after our conversation about the pleasures of symmetrical sex, Tea and I are on the roof of my boyfriend’s apartment building, taking each other’s clothes off. As we make out I re-explain the importance of synchrony to the group. He takes off his belt and uses it to tie our wrists together–my left, her right–then fastens the belt to the chain link fence that runs along the perimeter of the expansive rooftop. He pauses to glance over at the small garden of potted plants to our left. Tea and I kneel at his feet with our bound arms raised above our heads, staring up at him expectantly. “Wait,” he says, thinking. “Hold on, I’ll be right back,” then disappears down the cement stairwell into the building. We look at each other, confused.
“Uh… what if someone comes up here?” asks Tea after nearly a minute of silence. “Don’t like a million people live in this apartment building? How would we explain this?”
“It’s 3am on a Wednesday,” I say. “I think most people are sleeping.”
“Or maybe this is part of it,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“Like maybe he left us here as a test. Realistically, if we wanted to get this belt undone, we could. This could be a test to see how long we’ll actually wait here for him. This kind of stuff is common in power play relationships.”
“Uh… he probably just had to pee.”
“Like the last guy I dated–he used to leave me tied up naked in his shower for hours at a time. He would always push it to see how long I would sit there, just waiting for him to come and fuck me or give me attention or whatever. In theory I would have waited forever, except once he left me for like 4 hours and I started crying. He felt bad after though.”
“It’s sweet that he cared I guess.”
“Or this other time he invited me over to his house for dinner, and I was expecting him to cook me a nice meal or something, but then he just tied me up under his kitchen table and made me wait there while he ate.” I nod my head slowly, making a face that says I Can Relate, but really I’m just thinking about Tea’s short black hair and how shiny it is and how I wonder what conditioner she uses and if I should get the same one.
Suddenly his emaciated frame appears in the stairwell. “Sorry, was thirsty,” he says all casual, and I say, “You’re so beautiful I could puke,” and really mean it.
We spend the next however much time stumbling and crawling around the roof, performing a weird synchronized swim of sexual twister and double blow-jobs. At some point Tea lies on top of me, and for a moment we breathe together, in-out-in-out. “It’s like we’re Siamese twins,” she smiles.
“Yeah,” I say, and suck her finger as it slides in and out of my mouth. I have a sudden, overwhelming sensation of deja vu. And I’m spiraling away into myself.
Twelve hours later he and I are discussing the previous night at a nearby Venezuelan restaurant. “I just really like the dynamic of me and two women,” he says, a half chewed piece of tofu in his mouth. “It just makes for a very origamic sexual experience, in my opinion.” And I reply, “Yeah duh you idiot. Please don’t try to intellectualize it by using thesaurus words–you just like fucking two girls at once.” But he doesn’t respond so I continue, “Did you know that sometimes when you’re asleep I very lightly press the palm of my hand to every visible part of your body–so lightly that you don’t wake up–just because I can. I feel so lucky that I get to touch you.”
He looks freaked out.