Let me rephrase that. My girlfriend was cheating on me, and she was on the other side of the continent, and I loved her too much to break up with her.
I cried on the train on the way to work. I drank an entire six pack in the tub, then spent the next hour sobbing on my kitchen floor. I was a pathetic mess, and the girl clearly wasn’t worth it.
The logical thing would have been to dump her and save myself some pain. Instead, I decided that maybe if I cheated on her, I would feel better. Maybe I could fuck our relationship problems away.
I was a genius.
Being a modern young woman, I turned to Tinder. Although I was interested in both women and men, I only looked at women — I didn’t feel like justice would be served if I slept with a man, and I knew a woman would hurt her more. Yes, for those of you keeping track at homes, I was terrible at relationships and kind of a terrible human being at this point in my life.
Then I swiped right on Sakshi.
She was gorgeous, and she made me think that it might be worth sleeping with someone else simply because I wanted to sleep with someone else. I didn’t want to use her to hurt my girlfriend. I just wanted her.
She had long black hair, and in her only profile picture, she stretched her arms above her head and wore red lipstick that matched her tank top.
The moment we started talking is the moment my plan moved from purely stupid to completely idiotic.
I talked to her because she was the only one I matched with who clearly wanted to hook up immediately, with no real care for dates or personalities. I knew this because when I asked her what she was looking for, she sent me a bizarre, semi-pornographic YouTube video that showed two girls bouncing on the bed together until, overcome by lust, they stripped off their clothes and began making out.
At the end of the video, it’s revealed that a man has been watching them on camera the entire time.
He comes out of hiding, and the video ends with the implication that he has sex with both of them.
“Fewer boys, fewer clothes, and that sounds great,” I texted her. But I didn’t find anything too abnormal about the video. It was clear by this point that English was not her first language — maybe she thought this was the clearest way to communicate. Anyway, it seemed like she was interested in getting naked and having fun. So was I.
We made plans to meet in a bar. I showed up a few minutes late, but she didn’t get there till half an hour later. I texted her a description of what I was wearing — a brown and tan dress — and sipped at a beer. I was so annoyed I almost left.
It was a Wednesday night, and the last call came in before she arrived. I texted her to see if she would like me to order her something — no, she was good.
Odd, I thought.
“You look different than your picture,” she said when she arrived. “And you look tense. “Let me relax you.” I stared at her, and she grabbed my hand and started massaging it until I worried that my fingers might break.
“There, does that feel good?” I nodded and gulped down the rest of my beer.
We chatted for a while about her family, our lives, how long she had been in the States. Finally, when there were only a few people left in the bar, she hopped off her stool, walked to mine, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and smashed our mouths together.
“You are so beautiful,” she said, so loudly I was sure the rest of the bar could hear. “All I want right now is to make you come.”
Even though the bar was almost completely empty, I’m pretty sure people were watching us.
“Um.” I said. “OK.”
On the way back to her house, she told me about her first time. “It was a man who taught me to have sex,” she said. “He gave me all the skills I have. In fact, he’s visiting me this week.”
We held hands, and she squeezed mine as she spoke. It didn’t occur to me to ask where her sex friend was that particular night. I was still thinking about the fact that she had proclaimed, in front of the entire bar, that she wanted to make me come. I certainly wasn’t going to stop her.
I guess I vaguely imagined that he was out of the apartment, and she was taking advantage of the time alone.
She wanted to know if I had ever had a threesome. “Not yet,” I said. “But I guess I’m not totally opposed.”
“I’ve had sex with nine people at the same time,” she said. “It was so cozy.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Take your dress off,” she told me the moment we arrived in her apartment. An entire wall of her window was made of glass, and the lights were on, so it felt like the entire city could watch us. But I complied. And I complied with her until I was lying naked on her living room floor, my eyes on the ceiling, wondering what my girlfriend would think if she saw me.
I must have seemed distracted, because Sakshi sighed and pulled her dripping wet fingers out of me.
“This isn’t working,” she said. “Arjun?” she called — to no one, as far as I knew — ”I need your help fingering this girl.”
I remember those exact words. Help? Fingering? This girl? None of it seemed to add up. And yet — there was a moment’s pause, and a door down the hall opened, and out strode a short man in business wear.
“This girl?” he asked. “Very well. I will help you.”
He would?
Part of me was thinking that if Sakshi had ended up with another girl — if I’d been a little farther over on the Kinsey scale, or a little less sad and confused, or a little less stupidly angry — the situation could have gone very badly. I could have screamed bloody murder, pulled on all my clothes, and gone sprinting out of the apartment.
After all, I had explicitly told her that I wasn’t interested in the male in the video she had sent me. But if I were that kind of girl, if it was that kind of situation, I would have been gone long ago.
Instead, I fucked them.
The entire time, I kept an ongoing chant in my head: This isn’t real, what the hell am I doing, what is this? At one point, she ordered him to spank me because I was a naughty girl. They slammed me between their bodies. They liked it when I was loud.
Afterward, I laid between them, both of their arms draped over my body. “This is my favorite part,” said Sakshi. “I love being cozy like this.”
“Yes,” I said. Inside, I thought, Ha! Take that, girlfriend! Bet you haven’t tried this.
They both kissed me goodbye, and asked me to come again. Arjun waited with me for a taxi to get home. I’d stayed out well past time when the trains were running.
And I thought that might be the end of it. But it wasn’t.
I probably should have been more direct with her.
Sakshi kept texting me. She called me her darling, and wrote about how she longed to hold me sweetly in her arms. She said she loved me. It was all such a bizarre contrast to what we’d done that I wasn’t sure how to respond — and the more I thought about it, the angrier I was that she had invited a man to have sex with me without asking me first.
When I first knew that Arjun was going to be involved, I was already naked on the floor, outnumbered by them, away from my home.
And it hadn’t made me feel better about things with my girlfriend. We broke up. And of course I still think of her far more than I think of the threesome. For something on a lot of people’s bucket lists, having a threesome is fairly low on my list of memorable sexual moments.
Maybe someday I will want a threesome again. But not to get back at anyone. And definitely with plenty of advance warning.
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