Free Open: Love, Sex and Life in an Open Marriage by Jenny Block

But I was also insanely turned on. My sex life with Christopher had been good, yes, but it had already become a bit predictable, even that early on. And now here was this woman: gorgeous body, insatiable drive, and an

    attitude about sex that I remembered having had myself, pre-Christopher. She reminded me of the me I was seriously contemplating giving up. She also made me remember how voracious a woman’s sexual appetite can be. Her desiring me made my own longings seem all the more normal—and she was so unapologetic. I wanted her, without question, and I gave in more than willingly.
    At that moment, I didn’t care what the consequences might be as far as Christopher was concerned. The next morning, of course, I did. But I reminded myself that Christopher and I had been together only a few months, and that we had never even addressed monogamy or exclusivity. For all I knew, he was sleeping with someone else, too—at least that’s what I told myself. Truth was, I felt like Leila would be the last girl I would ever be with—and I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. Even then, I was thinking Christopher would be the man I’d marry someday. Justification? Perhaps. But it was one amazing night.
    In Leila’s room, I could feel myself getting wet at the sound of her voice.
    “Take your clothes off,” she commanded. “All of them. Now.” I obeyed, and every inch of my body suddenly remembered how much it liked something more than what Christopher and I had going on. As I undressed, Leila untied Tim and ordered him to stand at the side of the bed. She tied me down, straddled me, and dripped the wax from the candle she’d been using on Tim onto my skin, leaving

    thick, waxy trails down the length of my torso and across my breasts.
    “It hurts,” I said, pulling against the restraints.
    “You don’t think that’s going to make me stop, do you?” she countered.
    “No,” I said. And I didn’t want her to stop.
    “Good girl,” she said, removing the restraints and kissing me. Tim watched silently while we had sex. He knew better than to join in without Leila’s invitation. She was in charge. When I heard him sigh, I looked up, expecting to see that he’d come. Instead I saw his disappointment, maybe mixed with a bit of fear.
    “You girls don’t need me at all, do you?” he said.
    “No,” Leila replied bluntly. “Want, maybe, but definitely not need.”
    “I’m gonna go,” he said, pulling on his jeans and black Aerosmith T-shirt.
    “Suit yourself,” she said, without missing a beat.
    I slept with Leila several times that summer. I also slept with Christopher when he came to visit me. She was manipulative and exhausting. He was sweet and smart and loving. By the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Christopher. Leila and I had had fun together, but I was ready to swear off being tied down with velvet ropes, splayed at someone else’s mercy. I was twenty- five years old, and it was time to move on to a serious, committed relationship. It was time to be a grownup and

    settle down. All of this experimenting and sleeping around was kid stuff, I told myself. It had nothing to do with who I was. It was a phase. And it was over.

    one year after Christopher and I met,
    we were engaged, and one year after that, we were married. We lived in a rented condo for the first year, and then bought a cute little brick house in a fashionable part of town. I took to the role of wife quite naturally. I baked bread and kept a garden. I wore Lilly Pulitzer dresses and went to scrapbooking parties. Christopher and I had sex occasionally, far less than when we were dating. And it wasn’t long before I got tired of always being the one to start the fire. Instead of constantly initiating, I got used to “taking care of business” myself— and it was fine. That’s what happens when you get married, I told myself. I talked myself out of feeling discontented. Besides, it was just a