felt hearing the stories about her swinging lifestyle. We couldn’t talk about it at great length with our four kids running around nearby the entire day, but whenever they were out of hearing range, she’d give me a little tidbit about her escapades.
I listened intently and Jill reveled in my enthrallment. Maybe it was because I had been exposed to sexuality at an early age, or maybe it was just my personality, but my close friendships had always involved sharing graphic details about sexual encounters. It all started when my aunt Jamie taught me how to give a blow job on a cucumber while showing me pictures of how it was done in magazines. I couldn’t be sure, but whenever I reflected back on those lessons, I estimated that they started when I was about ten.
Reliving some of my childhood experiences during my sessions with Carly was opening up wounds I thought had healed long ago. I tried to tell her that I was grateful I had never actually been sexually assaulted, as so many of my friends had. She tried to tell me that my early exposure to sexuality and the overt sexual invitations I received from family members, though I managed to be strong enough to reject them, likely had adverse effects that we should explore.
I removed a shimmery black floral top and pulled the bright blue fitted shirt out of the pile again. But this time when I put it on, a sweat ring began to develop and I knew anything cotton was out of the question.
Jack started singing and banging on toy drums in his room next door, which bought me a few more minutes before I needed to check on him.
Sifting through the mound of clothes, I was totally uninspired by every item, even though each was new and significantly smaller than everything else in my closet. My mind drifted to the scenarios Jill described, as it had so many times since the day we spent together.
I pictured Jill and Connor swapping partners with another couple as they all watched each other and took breaks to kiss and touch their own spouse. Then I imagined Jill’s husband watching as she and another woman pleasured each other with fingertips and mouths. And I didn’t know whether to think their goal of having encounters with as many different cultural groups as possible was racist or enlightened. Part of me was grateful that Jill hadn’t made any contact since that day and another part wanted to hear more, a lot more.
Time was running out. I had to make a choice, so I settled on a sleeveless, multicolored blouse that would camouflage my body’s reaction to the three-digit degree temperature. At least the pattern had a little black in it to match my Capri pants and simple ballet flats. My heart raced with anxiety.
Jack sat on the bathroom floor playing a Little People game on my iPad while I applied my makeup with a small fan blowing on my face. I decided to go for a more natural look than usual, fearing the embarrassment of melting eyeliner in front of my new students. I checked the time on my phone again and spoke a text message to Rick.
“Almost here? I need to leave in ten.”
No response. My responsible husband was good about not texting and driving, even hands-free. At least that confirmed he must be in the car.
In the kitchen, I sat Jack at the table with a bowl of blueberries as I packed up my own snacks for the four-hour shift, which included an office hour from 3:00-4:00 and class from 4:00-7:00.
“Mama, where you going?” He seemed to know that whenever Mom was busy packing up things like almonds, a granola bar, and a banana, she’d be gone for a while.
“Mama’s going back to work today, sweetie.”
“I wanna go with you.” I turned to see the entire area around his mouth as well as his teeth smeared with purple stains and felt the corners of my mouth turn up. Rick’s going to have quite the time cleaning that up, I thought.
I brushed the silky blond curls on Jack’s forehead to the side and kissed him right between the eyebrows.
“I’m sorry,
I listened intently and Jill reveled in my enthrallment. Maybe it was because I had been exposed to sexuality at an early age, or maybe it was just my personality, but my close friendships had always involved sharing graphic details about sexual encounters. It all started when my aunt Jamie taught me how to give a blow job on a cucumber while showing me pictures of how it was done in magazines. I couldn’t be sure, but whenever I reflected back on those lessons, I estimated that they started when I was about ten.
Reliving some of my childhood experiences during my sessions with Carly was opening up wounds I thought had healed long ago. I tried to tell her that I was grateful I had never actually been sexually assaulted, as so many of my friends had. She tried to tell me that my early exposure to sexuality and the overt sexual invitations I received from family members, though I managed to be strong enough to reject them, likely had adverse effects that we should explore.
I removed a shimmery black floral top and pulled the bright blue fitted shirt out of the pile again. But this time when I put it on, a sweat ring began to develop and I knew anything cotton was out of the question.
Jack started singing and banging on toy drums in his room next door, which bought me a few more minutes before I needed to check on him.
Sifting through the mound of clothes, I was totally uninspired by every item, even though each was new and significantly smaller than everything else in my closet. My mind drifted to the scenarios Jill described, as it had so many times since the day we spent together.
I pictured Jill and Connor swapping partners with another couple as they all watched each other and took breaks to kiss and touch their own spouse. Then I imagined Jill’s husband watching as she and another woman pleasured each other with fingertips and mouths. And I didn’t know whether to think their goal of having encounters with as many different cultural groups as possible was racist or enlightened. Part of me was grateful that Jill hadn’t made any contact since that day and another part wanted to hear more, a lot more.
Time was running out. I had to make a choice, so I settled on a sleeveless, multicolored blouse that would camouflage my body’s reaction to the three-digit degree temperature. At least the pattern had a little black in it to match my Capri pants and simple ballet flats. My heart raced with anxiety.
Jack sat on the bathroom floor playing a Little People game on my iPad while I applied my makeup with a small fan blowing on my face. I decided to go for a more natural look than usual, fearing the embarrassment of melting eyeliner in front of my new students. I checked the time on my phone again and spoke a text message to Rick.
“Almost here? I need to leave in ten.”
No response. My responsible husband was good about not texting and driving, even hands-free. At least that confirmed he must be in the car.
In the kitchen, I sat Jack at the table with a bowl of blueberries as I packed up my own snacks for the four-hour shift, which included an office hour from 3:00-4:00 and class from 4:00-7:00.
“Mama, where you going?” He seemed to know that whenever Mom was busy packing up things like almonds, a granola bar, and a banana, she’d be gone for a while.
“Mama’s going back to work today, sweetie.”
“I wanna go with you.” I turned to see the entire area around his mouth as well as his teeth smeared with purple stains and felt the corners of my mouth turn up. Rick’s going to have quite the time cleaning that up, I thought.
I brushed the silky blond curls on Jack’s forehead to the side and kissed him right between the eyebrows.
“I’m sorry,
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