Kinky Confessions

On Friday we packed our things for a weekend in Snowshoe. I wasn’t entirely looking forward to it, but that was mostly because I was going to spend a pile of money on new skis and boots when the ones I had worked fine. I could afford it, easily, but that wasn’t the point. I was still brooding when we took off, but Christy was in her own little world. She finally said something around the time we crossed the West Virginia border, but it wasn’t even close to what I expected.

“Okay, so how exactly does this girlfriend thing work? I mean, you said Wren’s my girlfriend, just like you’re my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to decide if I can do something or not? I don’t need Wren’s permission if I

want to do anything with you. So why should I need your permission to do things with her? That hardly seems fair. You’re always preaching about a double standard for men and women. So, Mr. Equal Rights, how’s it work when I want to do something with Wren? And for the record, I’m talking about sex.”

I blinked and completely forgot my funk. Then I spent a long moment simply replaying the question in my head and working through the Christy-logic.

“Well?” she said when I still hadn’t answered. “Do I need your permission or not?”

“To have sex with Wren?”

“Yes.”

“Um… no.”

“You make it sound like a question,” she accused.

“I just thought the answer was obvious.”

“Well, it isn’t to me!”

“Fair enough. But… is there a reason you’re looking for an argument?”

“’Cause we’re going to have one if you tell me I need to ask you every time I want to fool around with Wren.”

“Oh, okay. The answer’s still no.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We aren’t going to have an argument because you don’t need my permission to have sex with Wren.”

She narrowed her eyes and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Really,” I said. “That’s it.”

“Just like that?” she said, still primed to argue.

“Just like that.”

“So… I can do anything I want with her? And you won’t say no?”

“You don’t need my permission, remember?”

“Oh, right! Sorry. Hold on, why’m I apologizing?”

I shrugged and tried to look virtuous.

“This isn’t funny.”

“No. But it sort of is.”

She answered with a glare that eventually turned uncertain. “I thought we were going to have a fight.”

“I could tell.”

“Sorry.”

“Me too. We probably should’ve talked about it sooner, but… I guess I take my lifestyle for gran—”

“Our lifestyle.”

“Right, sorry. Our lifestyle.” I glanced at her sideways. “I need to remind myself that you’re still learning. What seems obvious to me might not be to you.”

“Okay, now that you mention it… What if I find something I don’t like?

About our lifestyle?”

“Then we’ll do things differently.”

“Ugh! You’re really messing with my head. You aren’t supposed to give me straight answers like that. Besides, you’re the man. We’re supposed to do things your way.”

“Why? Because that’s the way your parents do it?”

“As a matter of fact, yes! What my father says goes. Don’t give me that look, Mr. Skeptical Eyebrow! He’s in charge.”

“Oh?” I said blandly.

“Don’t ‘oh’ me! He is.”

“Like when Rich had to take Home Ec… because your father made him?”

“No, my mother did. You know—”

“Or when you hung out at Lani and Peter’s house… because your father said it was okay?”

“Fine! I get it. My mother runs things, but only behind the scenes.” She crossed her arms and scowled. “I suppose you expect me to stay behind the scenes too.”

I gave her a long, calm look. “What’s gotten into you? Why’re you spoiling for a fight? Did I do something? Did Wren?”

She started to snap a reply but swallowed it instead. Then she took a deep breath and visibly tried to calm down. “No,” she said at last. “I don’t know why— No, I do. I just don’t want to admit it.” She uncrossed her arms and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her jeans. “I’m scared. And maybe a little guilty.”

I waited for her to explain.

“I never in a million years thought I’d have a relationship like ours. I didn’t even know they existed. I thought I’d meet a guy, get married, hide my past, and live like my parents. Like Harry and Marianne. Like James and Lynne. Like pretty much everyone else I’ve ever known. I’d stay home and raise kids while my husband went off and had a career. And that’s… just the

way it would be.

“In a weird way, that would’ve made sense. I grew up thinking that was normal. But then I met you, and my life hasn’t been the same since. I like the way it’s changed, but… what if you and I don’t…?”

“Make it work?”

She nodded glumly.

“I think we will.”

“Yeah, but you’re an optimist about everything.”

“Not everything, but as far as you and I are concerned…? Yeah, pretty much.”

She ventured a smile. “Thanks. But that’s part of the reason I feel guilty.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t want to go back to my old life. I like doing things with you. But it goes against everything I grew up believing.”

I thought for a moment and automatically scanned the airspace and instruments. Christy didn’t fidget, but she visibly relaxed when I returned my attention to her.