The Opposite of Love (12 page)

“Fine,” Melanie said into her hands. “Tell me what happened.”

Catherine told her about her first pregnancy, how deep down she’d known what he was doing—women’s intuition—but she’d blamed her suspicions on her hormones. She hadn’t wanted to know for sure because then she would’ve had to act on it.

The second pregnancy brought more infidelity, only this time the hairs on his jacket were blond instead of brunette. It was during the third pregnancy that she’d had enough. She hadn’t found any evidence, but she knew his pattern by then.

“We’re all just trying to get our needs met in this life,” Catherine explained. “And some needs are bigger than others. Your father and I had a very healthy sex life—”

“Ok, you know what? I don’t need to know all this.” Melanie stormed back into the house and grabbed her purse and keys from the dining table.

“Yes you do,” Catherine said, closing the slider against the Las Vegas heat. “It’s important.”

Melanie pictured her parents as products of the seventies: the vibe, the drugs, the hippie folk music, her father twisting ridiculously and Catherine spinning herself in circles as they danced on LSD wearing the flowing floral uniforms of free love—and of course, the sex. Her parents in their early twenties was not something she’d ever envisioned before, and it was unsettling to know that there could be other sides of them too, maybe more complicated, or even sinister.

Or maybe they’d just had lots of sex.

She stood next to the dining table and waited, but she didn’t put her things down.

“When I was pregnant I had no libido. In fact, sex was a little uncomfortable, so I just opted out. I didn’t think about how that would affect your father. Just because my needs had changed didn’t mean his had.”

“Mother, you were
pregnant
.”

“That’s no excuse. There are still plenty of things we could’ve done.”

“Oh god…” Melanie tilted her head back and covered her eyes with one hand.

“The point is, it wasn’t until the third pregnancy that I confronted him and we talked about it. With the other women, it was always just sex. He loved our family and he loved me. Very much. He was just getting his needs met when I wasn’t able.”

“Just sex?” Melanie asked. “So that made it ok?”

“Not ok, but not as bad as a full-blown affair. And it was something I could wrap my mind around without being devastated. Haven’t you ever had ‘just sex,’ dear?”

Melanie thought of Derek, but she wasn’t sure if that was the ‘just sex’ her mother was referring to. They confided in each other, and they’d been friends with benefits for four years, so surely that made it more than ‘just sex.’

“Do friends with benefits count?” Melanie asked.

“No, they don’t. Just sex is exactly that.
Just
sex.”

“But you know what friends with benefits are?”

“I’m sixty-two, darling. Not ninety-two.”

Melanie slumped into a dining chair. “So you’re saying that if I’m sick or on my period that it should be ok with me if the person I’m with cheats, as long as it’s just sex.”

“I’m not saying that it should ever be ok if the person you’re with cheats. What’s important to understand is
why
a person cheats. Your father had an expectation of me based on how things had always been between us. It wasn’t unreasonable for him to expect intimacy when I was pregnant. But I didn’t offer him any. That’s why he cheated. If we had talked about it, we probably could’ve worked something out, but we didn’t know how. We were practically kids, you know.”

Melanie nodded. Twenty years old when she had her first child. Such grown-up problems for a young woman. Marriage, babies, a cheating husband. Her view of her mother’s life was melting like a stalled strip of film. Her father and mother had not had the “you-and-me-against-the-world” mentality either, not ubiquitously or from the beginning as Melanie had thought. But it had been there at the end. She had seen it, so it had been real, hadn’t it? Or was there more her mother was hiding? She thought she might ask someday, but for today, she’d reached her limit.

“Look, it’s not that
I don’t care about you. It’s just that there are things I like that we don’t do. That’s all.”

Melanie leaned against the breakfast bar with her arms crossed, unable to hide her disgust completely, but keeping her conversation with her mother in the front of her mind. She had called James and told him what she’d seen in the back of his truck. He came straight from work and immediately started damage control. He hadn’t denied it, so that was a relief. You could skip half the argument if a man would just accept that a woman knew what she knew. But as expected, he’d cited their lack of clear definition of the relationship as his loophole.

“What things?” she asked.

“Just things… sexual things. I don’t think they’re things you’d be comfortable with.” He was sitting on the arm of a wingback chair with his legs extended toward her, perched, ready, she felt, to spring on her at the first sign of acquiescence.

“We went to the Green Door didn’t we?”

“And that was great, really. I’d love to go again. But it’s not just that, it’s other things too.”

She stayed silent and waited for him to explain.

“Babe, it’s just stuff I like to do sometimes. It’s not a big deal. You’re just different from the kind of girls I usually like.”

Girls?
Melanie thought. But rather belaboring semantics, she forced a deep breath and tried to remain open.

“Tell me,” she said, fighting to soften her tone.

“Well, anal sex, for one.”

At this, she flinched.

“Ok, what else?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing you with another woman.”

Melanie raised her eyebrows at this. “Seeing me with another woman?” she asked. “Or having sex with me
and
another woman.”

James shrugged. “Either one,” he said. “As long as everyone is enjoying themselves, what’s the difference?”

I just want to know the precise nature of your depravity
, Melanie thought.

James stood and approached her. Melanie still had her arms crossed and he rubbed her shoulders. “Look, I know these things aren’t you,” he said. “And that’s ok.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me who I am or what’s ok,” she said.

Derek put his hands up and backed away a few steps, as though he was afraid she’d combust at any moment. She found the gesture ridiculous and insulting.

“So what do you want to do?” she asked. And a part of her prayed to a god she’d long forgotten that James would say they just weren’t compatible. That they should just go their separate ways.

“I like you a lot,” he said. Hope soared. It sounded like the prelude to a kiss-off.

“If it’s up to me, we keep seeing each other, see how things go. But maybe we should have an open relationship. See other people too.”

She eyed him warily, mostly annoyed that if she agreed with his proposal it would only complicate their relationship further.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “If you agree to take some time off from having sex with other people, I will agree to try some of the things you like. If it doesn’t work, or if I hate the things that you like, we go our separate ways. But this half-in thing isn’t going to work for me. I don’t want to see you out on dates with people or find panties in your truck.” At this he laughed. She didn’t. “It’s all-in or not at all.”

“Say no more,” he said. He gently pried her arms from their protective place across her chest and draped them over each of his shoulders. “Let’s give it a shot,” he said. “I’m in.”

‘I’m sorry’ never goes without saying.

—Melanie Leon

Chapter Seven

Sarah had Braden, the baby, perched on her hip while five-year-old Stella sat in the middle of the living room floor and played games on an iPad. There had been a mild uproar when Melanie arrived, during which Stella had almost peed herself with excitement, crossing her legs suddenly and galloping off to the bathroom. Braden had shrieked in confusion like a dog that doesn’t know who’s knocking at the door and therefore can’t decide how he feels about it. Melanie didn’t visit often enough to satisfy the five-year-old or to be recognized by the baby.

“Coffee?” Sarah asked.

“Sure,” said Melanie, rising from the kitchen table. “I can make it.”

“I got it.”

“You want me to take the baby?” asked Melanie.

Sarah pulled the coffee cups from the cabinet. “No, I got it.”

Melanie sat back down, relieved. She loved her niece and nephew, she really did. She just didn’t understand them.

After filling Sarah in on the basics over the phone, Melanie had agreed to come by for a visit and some psychological profiling on her new beau. Part of her was also tempted to tell Sarah about their mother’s revelation about their father, but at the same time, there was no reason to taint her memories.

“Have you ever thought about what it must be like to be a guy?” Sarah asked.

“God no. What would I want with all that power?” Melanie winked at Sarah.

“No, really. Think about it.” Sarah sat at the kitchen table while she waited for the coffee to brew. “From the time that you’re preadolescent—say eleven or twelve years old—all you can think about is sex. Your penis gets hard if you so much as think about a female, and your life is consumed by your constant need to masturbate.”

“Ok. That would suck. What’s your point?”

The coffee maker beeped and Sarah rose and poured them both a cup, Braden still on her hip. “If you think about it, that’s a big part of a man’s life, from the time he’s able to get an erection until he dies. Men are driven by sex. In a way, it defines them.”

Melanie took her cup from Sarah and spooned sugar into it. “So you’re saying all men are perverts?” Melanie found herself being deliberately obtuse. She was frustrated by the conversations she kept having with her sister, her mother, Derek—all about James. She doubted he was putting this much analysis into their relationship.

“Now you’re judging. They’re not perverts, they just have different needs and desires than we do, generally speaking. Give me a minute…”

Sarah went into the living room and put Braden in his playpen. “You’re in charge, honey,” she said to Stella, even though Sarah could see them just fine from the kitchen table. Stella grunted without looking up from her game.

When she returned, Melanie asked, “So Richard is a pervert too?”

“Richard is not a pervert. And we’re not talking about him. We’re talking about your guy. How did he grow up?”

“Well, he lived with his parents in California, that’s really all I know.”

“Ok, so imagine you’re this boy who’s masturbating all the time—like daily—and you have to hide it from your mother because in your mind she’s this nonsexual creature who would never understand. If she caught you she’d think you were abnormal, disgusting and, well, a pervert. The showers are getting longer, the lotion is being depleted at alarming speed, the socks are all standing up on their own, the bedsheets are crusty from wet dreams and you start doing your own laundry to cover it up, which is suspicious in itself. You can’t win.”

“But that’s how all boys are. They all masturbate like crazy once they discover their dicks.”

“True, but they can’t help it. They are at mercy to their budding little libidos and conflicted about what this says about them. Their sexual appetites and the inability to control them feels like something foreign, and shameful. Even if they don’t necessarily feel bad about the act itself, the process of hiding it can create shame over an otherwise natural act.”

Melanie finished her coffee and got up to pour another cup. “What does this have to do with James?”

“Well, you said he likes doing kinky things and he’s been doing them with other women.”

“Yep.” Melanie leaned on the kitchen counter and tilted her head side to side, trying to release the tension in her shoulders.

“Well this has to do with the shame that boys are prone to at the time that they’re discovering sex and women for the first time. Then add to that desires that are uncommon or perceived as perverse. As you know, some men have very fragile egos, and rejection is something that they avoid at all costs. The mere idea of sexual rejection would be too painful to endure. There’s too much history of shame and self-loathing. In order to feel loved, to feel safe in a relationship, a man needs to feel accepted completely. He needs to be accepted sexually for who he is, kinky habits and all.”

“So by not wanting to have butt sex I’m hurting his fragile little male ego?”

“Worse than that. By rejecting him because he wants to have butt sex, you’re telling him that his sexual desires are unacceptable. Our desires can’t be changed, so he’s trapped with that. You’d do less damage by telling him you don’t want to see him anymore because he’s a cop.”

“So what if I don’t want to have sex in public? I’m supposed to do it anyway to protect his feelings?”

“Do you
want
to have sex in public?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

Sarah laughed. “Just consider it. You never know what you’ll like and what you won’t ’til you try it. I’ve found that butt sex isn’t all that bad if you do it right. And if he’s an aficionado, chances are he knows what he’s doing.”

Melanie just stared at her sister. While Sarah had always been blunt about sex, Mel had no idea she was so… experienced.

Sarah smiled conspiratorially and looked toward the living room where Braden was chewing on a toy in his playpen and Stella was chatting to him through the mesh, trying to gain his attention. “You can’t imagine how happy it makes a man when you give him what he needs. He’ll do anything.”

Melanie laughed. “Even change diapers?”

“Mel, he’ll paint your house if that’s what you want. And call you sweetheart and baby the whole time.”

“Can you really tell me that’s not something you’ve considered doing with me?” Melanie asked.

“Woman, when you show up and take your clothes off, I’m a happy man. The rest is gravy,” said Derek.

“So we don’t even need to have sex?”

“Nope.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love it. You’re what every man dreams of in bed. But there are other things I like about you too. You’re funny. You’re smart. A good conversationalist. So do we
need
to have sex? No.”

“So next time I come over here and take off my clothes, we can just talk?”

Derek was quiet.

“Never mind,” she said. “Back to the original question. Do you want to try anal with me or not?”

“I’m willing to do whatever you want. I’ll paint my balls so they glow in the dark if it flips your switch. What brought this on though? You’ve never expressed an interest in that before.”

“James.”

“Oh yeah? He’s a back-door guy, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say that to his face.”

Derek chuckled. “Ok, so why do you want to do it with me instead of him?”

“Because I’ve never done it before.”

“Ok, but why do you want to practice with me? You’re worried about your performance… anally?”

“No, not my performance…”

“What then?”

Melanie hadn’t expected an interrogation and she would’ve preferred to be doing it rather than talking about it. The delay was only intensifying her nervousness. She got up and went to the kitchen to get some water.

She hadn’t found it hard to get Derek into bed. She’d told him about the footprint on the window and her conversation with her mother. Explaining that she’d decided to give it another shot, she also reasoned that James was one up on her as far as sex outside the relationship and that she needed to even the score before she could get over it and move on. He’d disagreed, but not vehemently enough to keep them out of his bed. Now she had to entice him to try something other than “vanilla” sex, as James comprehensively referred to every sexual encounter she’d had up until she met him.

When she came back, Derek was still looking at her expectantly. “Why are you asking so many questions?” she asked. “I would think you’d just jump at the opportunity.”

“I want to know more about the opportunity is all. And why do you suddenly have an aversion to my questions?”

“Look, I’m taking the advice both you and my mother so graciously pounded into my head. I’m making a conscious effort and putting real work into it. I’m making compromises and sacrifices. Isn’t it obvious that’s the reason I’m trying anal sex with him?”

“Yes. But what’s not obvious is why you’re trying anal sex with
me
.”

Melanie climbed back into bed and curled up at his side with her arm over his chest. “Maybe I just want to try it out with someone else first.”

“But why? To break the seal? You can use toys for that. Don’t you want it to be special with him? If you end up together forever, it could be something that you’ve only ever shared with him.”

Melanie cringed at the word
forever
.

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal,” she said.

“Clearly it is, or you would have done it with him by now.”

Melanie ignored this. She reached down and stroked him until he was half hard again. Then she rolled on top of him and just lay there with her chin on his chest, looking him in the eyes. Derek pushed a lock of hair away from her face.

“Is he pressuring you into it?” Derek asked.

“Please. I’m a grown woman.”

“I don’t think you should do anything you’re not ready for. And if he’s pressuring you, maybe he’s not the right guy after all.”

“Holy shit, Derek. Where’s this ‘Father Knows Best’ crap coming from?”

“Yeah, I know how it sounds. But it’s true.”

Melanie wiggled herself up a little bit so that her vagina was pressed against his penis. She felt it twitch against her.

“Has he asked you to do anything else you haven’t done before?”

Melanie considered telling him about the trip to the Green Door. About the sex in front of strangers. How it felt terrifying and exhilarating all at once. She knew Derek wouldn’t judge her, that he’d probably be fascinated by it. But she didn’t want him to think she was turning into a freak overnight, so she kept it to herself.

“You’re the one who said I needed to do things differently, and that’s what I’m doing. What’s the problem?”

“I just don’t know if he’s the right guy is all.”

“You never
really
know. Your words.”

Derek ran his hands up and down Melanie’s back. She still had her chin propped on his chest, watching his face as he stared at the ceiling.

He looked down at her, then rolled her over so that he was on top. He kissed her lips, over and over. Then he moved to her breasts.

She moaned and arched her back and he slipped a hand between her legs and two fingers into her wetness. Then he slid one out and rubbed it against her anus while the other continued to stroke her inside. She unintentionally tensed a little and he stopped, returning both fingers to her pussy. He waited until she was moaning and then tried again. This time Melanie didn’t tense up.

Derek pushed until he was in up to his first knuckle. Melanie’s head went back and her hips stopped moving. He waited, sucking on her nipple.

Melanie wasn’t sure how she felt. There was a definite discomfort, but she couldn’t quite call it pain. It simply felt unnatural, as if her ass was being used improperly. She couldn’t help but think this must be how a cat felt when you rubbed its fur backwards.

Derek withdrew his hand from between her thighs and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. He mounted her and slid into her pussy with slow strokes, his head in the pillow next to hers. She felt him pressing harder on the down-stroke, but he backed off when her orgasm got close. He pushed a hand underneath her ass and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him.

“Try not to come,” he said. “Just keep yourself right on the edge.”

“Ok,” she whispered.

She rode him slowly, leaning forward and kissing his neck, his cheek. He reached to her ass and put his finger in again. She stopped moving and waited, bracing herself for more, but he wasn’t pushing, so she started riding him again. As she did, he let a little more of his finger slide into her on each down-stroke. She could feel it getting deeper, until finally he was letting it slide all the way in and out, the rhythm matching her momentum. Again, Melanie couldn’t say that it hurt exactly, it just didn’t feel at all comfortable. But there was something else. There was a sense of being filled in a different way, in a way that couldn’t be accomplished with just a penis in her vagina, no matter the size. It was new, and, she was surprised to find, delicious. And she was getting close to coming.