Losing Track of Time
Tara Pelvig and John Mercer’s bliss showed no signs of slowing down, much less stopping. Everyone who saw them who didn’t know otherwise thought they were married, despite the absence of wedding rings. This conclusion was often reinforced when someone would speak of “your husband” or “your wife” to either or both of them and receive no correction.
Weekend days were a balanced mix of sex and related intimacy, bigger/longer “chores” which felt too fun doing them together to deserve the burdensome connotations of that word, and alternating between chilling at home and going out to do fun things together. John truly had lost contact with his friends during his years of depression, and hers were almost always also lovers and that situation still vexed her, meaning that nearly all the time it was just them, or making new friends amongst strangers when they were out.
Weekdays were work days, consistently. John hadn’t enjoyed going to work every day so much since early in the life of Model Magicians. Tara hadn’t enjoyed work this much ever, though years ago when she was over the hump of the initial full digitization of the front office and modernization of the corporate telecommunications system it was close. Employee morale kept creeping closer to historic highs as issues with equipment, supplies, and the building itself faded into memories of a bad period now in the past. Word amongst those who routinely utilized modeling company services spread that Model Magicians was back as a serious contender.
Depending on the day, weekday evenings might be centered more around shorter-duration “chores”, perhaps some grocery shopping. Other evenings were for relaxation and rest, to be fresh and ready for the subsequent work day. Sex was usually involved at some point, usually less intense than on weekends.
Tara got her widened doorway with automated sliding pocket doors between her outer office and John’s inner office, albeit operating at a speed far more reminiscent of a big retail store than Star Trek. She also got a second set at the front hall door to the outer office, which John rationalized as reasonable given the number of people who needed to pass through those doors carrying sizable models or other large objects which had traditionally made it difficult to work the legacy door knob. Ironically due to their new relationship (intimate and otherwise), the inter-office door remained parked wide open nearly always during business hours. Longer-term plans to widen other doorways for newer equipment and/or Tara’s passage awaited a stronger balance sheet for the firm before implementation.
There wasn’t a day of the week they didn’t like, which may have been related to their paying less attention to them swiftly passing by. Others noticed and counted, Barb Bloom at the forefront amongst them.
“Heee hee hee ha ha!” Tara laughed as John kissed one of the ticklish spots on her naked belly.
It was all Saturday morning sexy time fun and games, until her device sounded off with the ringtone for Barb.
“Want me to go to another room to give you privacy?”
“No. Want you to come up here and sit down, so I can sit Furry side on your lap and you can wrap your arms around me to soothe me.”
Once he did, she answered the call. “Hey.”
“It’s been a full month since you last contacted me, when you and the man who now owns you came over here for your whirlwind and might I add ineffectual move-out. What is the deal?!”
No sound from Tara, beyond noisy breathing as she scrambled to form her own answer in her mind, then speak it.
“Emergencies lasting over a month are no longer emergencies, notwithstanding what the Feds claim about illegal U.S. wars and ineffectual authoritarian public health clampdown overreach. You’ve had a month to reconcile your poly past with your apparent monog emergency detour. So what is it? Do you have room for me in your life? Or do I have to force you to sit down with me to work out whether I’ll be the ongoing sole occupant of this now-lonely house and precisely how that will work?”
She felt John getting upset and emotionally pulling away before she could feel his shallow-breath chest heaving. She pushed herself back more firmly against his chest, moving first one then the other of his hands to her hip fat. This had become a silent commitment/love bond renewal signal between them, letting him know that she remained committed to him first and foremost in situations where she couldn’t immediately verbalize that commitment. Into the phone mic she went on the offensive, “So much of what happens going forward depends where you are in the evolution of your outlook.”
“You heard me! A month ago you couldn’t even be civil to the man who yes indeed does have the number 1 slot in my heart, soul, and mind. Both he especially and I are good at planning, which requires forecasts and projections out into the future. We agree that we need each other now through as far into the future as we can forecast—and don’t give me shit about the use of the word ‘need’, because if you’re not living it, you don’t know. Are you with me?”
“I think you’re brainwashed!”
“I think you haven’t yet experienced true love! Like me, before this happened.”
Barb resisted the urge to slam her device down onto the bed. “So you’re not coming home.”
“Not unless it’s with John and you at least tolerate him, because I want to be with him nearly every moment of every day and night from here to as far in the direction of eternity as my human mind can fathom.”
“That doesn’t leave any room for anyone else!”
“Sure it does! Me and John as a couple, the way Lou and Linda are!”
“You dumped me!” she whined.
“I saved his life and then within under sixteen hours discovered he has compelling intimate interpersonal abilities I want and need in my life! Accidental! Unexpected!” She caressed and squeezed John’s hand with her free hand, to better feel his supportive love.
This wasn’t going well, as far as Barb was concerned. She shifted tactics, “It’s time to scrub the kitchen and bathroom floors again, which we know works better with your special third foot rag shoe technique than the sponge mop, which in any case no longer has a viable mop head. Please advise.”
With a conversation this loud, John was able to hear most of what Barb had to say without trying. He whispered into Tara’s free ear, “Can we do that together some evening or weekend day? Sometime when she’s out, if she doesn’t want to deal with me?”
She smiled and nodded, covering the device mic and whispering, “Thanks.” Then she told Barb, “John and I will take care of that, this weekend or next. It can be any daytime time that works for you if you’re ready to meet him and be nice to him, otherwise we need to schedule 2 to 3 hours when you’re not there.”
“Not sure if I can be nice to either of you, since you left me for him, so I’ll need to get back to you on scheduling.”
So basically ended the intense call. Tara reassured John (and herself) that being with him all the time was the choice she most preferred. He reassured her that he would do whatever he could to help keep things smooth between her and everyone she cared about from her past.
Barb made arrangements to visit the communal houses later that same Saturday, allowing Tara and John to come over and clean the floors. While they were there, they did some other cleaning, she paid the property tax bill (still on paper), and loaded out another grouping of clothes and sundries she wanted to have over at his house.
One month became two months, then three, then four.
Things were booming at Model Magicians: at another company-wide meeting, they started to discuss what would be the best strategic major equipment purchase to bring them back to the forefront of their field. There was general agreement that some flavor of metal additive manufacturing system was needed, but no agreement on a specific variant.
There was no time for Tara and John to share outright sex at the office, but that was OK given that both of them were energized and excited about the work they were doing, there were plenty of gropes, rubs, caresses, kisses, and hugs throughout the day, and they always left together for evenings and overnights where sex most of the time and physical intimacy all of the time were givens.
Everyone in Tara’s life amongst her friends wondered what happened to her. Given that almost every single good friend was also a lover in the poly group, get-togethers (whether just a few of them or nearly everyone, and whether at the group homes or elsewhere) were a natural place to discuss the situation.
One Sunday the Licks, Barb, and George were sharing afterglow restful conversation in the family room of the smaller of the two group homes, while others milled about enjoying nudism and general low-level arousal seeing one another as they went about otherwise-normal home life.
“So what’s the story with Tara?” asked George, a somewhat thick middle-aged balding man with very much of a chunky “dad bod”, average-sized unshaved circumcised genitals, and a strong sex drive.
“She and her monog de-facto husband come by roughly once a month if and only if I remind them to deal with household upkeep” Barb sullenly explained. “They work the interior together, then he mows the lawn and does other light yard work. She goes through her huge bag of paper mail, packs up another load of her belongings to move over to his house, then they’re non-entities in my and her house’s life until next month.”
Gretchen came over, taking a seat next to Barb, putting her arm around her (with Barb reciprocating) and sharing a deep kiss. She and Barb weren’t into each other on a deep romantic level, both preferring enjoyable sex-based love, and both really getting off on working together and having no one else at work know of their poly lifestyle nor physical love of each other. When no one else was in the room at work and they were out of view of the security cameras, they had a game where they’d see who could grope the other first. Or other times they merely felt each other up because they felt like it, maybe maybe not shared a kiss, then got back to work.
“What is it about the dude that has her all so deeply into him?”
“Fuck if I know. Haven’t wanted to meet him.”
“We saw them walking together at Bodorgel Plaza” (a local shopping center) said Linda. “Cuddled as close as anyone can get to Tara, truly hips grinding together with each step. Arms around each other, with her looking up at him like he’s the dreamiest love god who’s ever inhabited a human body, and him looking back at her similarly. They didn’t even see us.”
“We weren’t that close, there were a number of other people, and it’s not like we called out to them” Lou clarified.
Still seeking an answer, George rephrased his question and directed it at Lou, “What’s he look like?”
“Kinda average for older middle age. About 6 feet tall and maybe 200 pounds if that. Medium to slender build. Mostly-white thick hair. Dresses and projects businessman.”
“It was a weekday early evening when we saw them” noted Linda.
“He’s all of the founder, owner, and head of the place where Tara works” said Barb.
“Oh alright” George grinned, feeling he’d finally found the true answer he sought. “She’s into the Provider and Resources thing.”
“Don’t understand why” said Lou. “She’s at least as much of a self-made woman as anyone in our group.”
“It’s as deeply hardwired into female human genetics as the need of you men to spread your seed” Gretchen observed, leaning over and woggling Lou’s toggle, then George’s. “Just like you and George and the rest of the cis males in our group, that drive is there even when there is zero intent to procreate and indeed significant desires for the opposite as we all share. Unless someone knows otherwise I doubt Tara has suddenly decided to start a family, but especially having two fully functional wombs as I understand it, her body may be teeming with biochemicals pushing urges to latch onto an alpha provider, despite having no need for one.”
Barb lolled her head on Gretchen’s shoulder, saying, “Given that this all started when she interrupted his suicide attempt and kept telling me in the first week that ‘I can’t leave because he needs me’, I’m thinking it’s more of a fixing broken people drive. He’s the abandoned feral kitten she saved and nurtured, who now depends on her. She made him, bonded with him, and now needs that love and validation she made possible.”
“Whatever the case, it’s a loss of one of our star family group members if she doesn’t come back.”
Alain swayed out from the kitchen with a plate of cut rectangles of fresh homemade lemon cake, holding the plate out for Gretchen first. A slightly thick conventionally attractive woman with long dark brown hair and today wearing big hoopy gold earrings, she was gifted with archetypal exaggerated womanly curves (“child-bearing hips” and all that), arousing all of them as she leaned over to let her full, pendulous 36E breasts hang and swing and let her curvy hips show off their bending-over splay.
Gretchen happily claimed a piece.
“Watch out for those” George warned, “You’ll get fat.”
The group laughed as Gretchen first pretended to feed the piece she’d claimed to Barb, then at the last moment stuffed it all into her mouth and claimed a second piece, glaring at George for daring to judge what she did with her own body.