Chapter 26: Come Back

A few weeks after my first date with Viktor, Jack and I booked a room for my birthday at a fancy hotel an hour from our house. Asher was staying with my mom while we went wine tasting and out to dinner. And we’d left plenty of time for what I hoped would be lots of epic fucking.

I’d had two dates with Viktor by then. The second was similar to the first—an afternoon at his house between conference calls. Except on our second date he had an orgasm, then held me close to him, and still, for the longest time. It felt profound, like there was something unspoken emerging between us. In those moments, being held, I felt absolved of all suffering. I didn’t want to be anywhere else ever again.

Viktor had mentioned that afternoon that he was “borderline Asperger’s.” Among the common characteristics of some neurodivergent folks that also described him: profound intelligence, demonstrating little to no empathy, particular area/s of interest, and unusual capacity to focus intensely on one thing. These, and others, described him to a T. The one criterion he didn’t meet was an inability to maintain relationships over a period of time. That, he explained, he was good at, and it seemed true. He and Marin had been together five years, and he had friends and lovers he’d been close with for even longer.

In the same way a person who loves an instrument might practice for hours to become very skilled, Viktor had trained himself to be an exemplary lover. Not only had he mastered what to do and how to do it, but he was remarkably good at controlling the energy of the space. In every other aspect of his life, his lack of empathy was evident. But in the bedroom, he was incredibly sensitive and aware.

Eventually I would ask him how he got so good at sex.

“People tend to be good at what they love.”

Pressed to explain the way Viktor affected me, I might have supposed it was his skillfulness, or his fascinating mind. The other explanation I might have given for what was quickly becoming a borderline obsession with Viktor—his sex, at least—was that mystical alchemy I was determined to call forth with Jack. Chemistry.

This was precisely my goal when we scheduled our hotel date, to cultivate wild attraction. To that end, we’d brought a vast supply of equipment that we hoped would help us to expand our repertoire and stimulate some hot, dirty passion: a pre-rolled joint, bubble bath, massage oil, a bottle of wine, lube, sexy snacks (grapes, chocolate, raspberries), nipple clamps, a vibrator, a paddle, a dildo, and a strap-on harness. I kind of hoped it didn’t come to that because pegging was not especially my favorite thing to do. But if it was requested, I would oblige. Jack and I considered ourselves GGG—Good, Giving, and Game. It only seemed fair that I should offer tit for tat.

We checked in at 3PM. Our dinner reservations weren’t until 7, which gave us plenty of time to fuck first. Why do people wait to have sex until after they’ve gone out to eat, when they’re full, maybe a little drunk, and likely bloated? If your intention is to get laid, fuck first—a bit of wisdom that, like the phrase GGG, we gleaned from listening to sex columnist Dan Savage’s Savage Love podcasts on road trips while Asher was asleep in his car seat (well before he ever parroted the word fuck). 

We smoked a little pot and got in the bath. We talked comfortably and rubbed each other’s feet. After a while the water had cooled and the bubbles all burst, so we got out and dried our bodies. Jack turned on the fireplace and laid down on the king bed. I returned to the bathroom and put on a black lace bodysuit I bought for the occasion (while thinking about Viktor) and a pair of black heels.

It was rare that I dressed up like this for Jack. Lingerie felt contrived with him—I didn’t know how to wear it without feeling self-conscious. But I loved the notion of wearing something specifically to create a feeling of sensuality and sumptuousness. It made me feel beautiful, luxuriant, and sexy. I imagined as I was dressing that I was showing up to a lover’s house, instead of my husband in the next room. It was easier to try and relate in a new way if I imagined we were different people.