Chapter 2
player one
Savannah
present day
When I was a little girl, I didn’t dream of being a princess, mother, or wife. I wanted to be someone important. I wished to be seen, heard, and stand out. So much that I couldn’t be under someone’s shadow.
To some, love means sacrifice. I disagree. I grew up witnessing sacrificial love and the resentment that follows it. My parents did their best with what they knew and showed up for us, but not each other.
Even today, they’re still tolerating each other. Mom and Dad believed raising us in a two parent household was best, but we would’ve rather seen them both happy with other people than miserable together.
Dad was content with Mom giving up on her dreams so he could live out his while she cared for us at home. He got everything he wanted, because of her sacrifices. My mother lost herself in his shadow because it’s what she was raised to do.
My auntie, Dawn, was the opposite, breaking the cycle, while inspiring me to do the same.
She’s created the life she wanted to live by prioritizing her education and career.
While the women in our family projected their beliefs onto her about settling down, she was firm about decentering men, and not having children.
She is the happiest woman I’ve ever known.
Maybe that was my dream, after all. To be important and happy. Genuinely happy. I achieved that long before I met my husband and thankfully, the well hasn’t run dry.
I believe that love is a story of universal truths, translated and rewritten in every language. While it’s subjective, the act is supposed to feel good, safe, and secure. Honest and free of judgement. Whether it’s platonic or romantic, that’s the baseline. Regardless of its form.
I’m distracted when my husband comes into view. Water droplets shine off his deep brown skin while he stands behind me with a towel wrapped around his waist. My stomach flutters at the sight of him, even after all this time.
I smirk at his reflection staring back at me in the mirror as I flat iron my hair, bumping the ends on my copper bob. Making sure not a hair is out of place, knowing damn well it won’t last through tonight’s plans.
“Savvy,” he warns, using a nickname he gave me when we started dating. “You’re thinking about messing up that makeup you just put on. Ain’t you?”
“You don’t know me.” I scoff.
He knows me too well.
“Oh, but I do. I love you,” he says, leaning down to kiss my cheek.
“I love you too.”
“I’m trying not to get you wet,” he whispers while backing away slowly.
“Too late,” I tease.
“I walked right into that one. Let me go get ready for our date,” he quips, chuckling as he exits the room.
Tonight, I’m celebrating eight years of being married to my best friend, Amir. I’m childless by choice and while married, I’m still important. He has always challenged me while respecting my space. Finding a man who centered me and encouraged my individuality as a woman is what did me in.
I had boyfriends off and on growing up—like we all do—but I noticed I was also attracted to girls while I was pretty young. The constant conversations about motherhood and marriage within our family further deterred me from acting on any of those feelings.
I hadn’t allowed myself to explore my sexuality until college, and while it was exhausting that I spent so much time hiding a part of myself, I don’t regret waiting to rewrite my story. There’s something about no longer being under your parents’ roof that sets you free.
I relished in that freedom and found a community doing so.
It encouraged me so much that I built up the courage to come out to my parents.
They assured me that they still loved me and just wanted for me to be happy.
My mom later shared that she always had a feeling, but never wanted to bring it up in fear of pushing me away.
Love looks differently to my parents than it does for us, and that’s okay.
We haven’t given up our personal identities to be together and are actually more similar than we thought.
I’d happily dated women and men before I met Amir, who wasn’t out at the time, but I’m grateful that he felt safe enough to let me in.
My husband and I are proudly bisexual and monogamous, but on days like this, we make exceptions.
We’re members of Lilith’s Lounge, a local kink club that has an app to connect members who share similar interests.
Our traditions are far from normal, but tonight we’re indulging in one that happens to be our best-kept secret.
For the past five years, on our anniversary, we’ve invited someone to join us for a threesome.
We must always be compatible with and agree on the person, only meet in public, and there are no repeat guests.
One night of fun and no contact beyond that.
We chat with them prior to the big night and they meet us at the lounge.
A safe space where we can indulge in our every fantasy. That’s also where we met.
Tonight, we’re meeting Nova, a beautiful woman we matched with on the app.
Anyone we match with, we usually contact first to set the tone, but she beat us to it.
Her boldness was a turn-on and we have similar interests in the bedroom, so it wasn’t a hard choice.
It’s an added plus that she’s no stranger to playing with couples.
She likes to read romance novels and is interested in bringing some of her favorite scenes to life with us. Even assigned us book recommendations as homework to prepare. It’s safe to say it piqued our curiosity while inspiring us to try some new things too, like the FaceTime call and voice notes.
Amir’s footsteps approach, dragging me from my thoughts, and I call for him, eager to see what outfit he decided on.
“You almost ready, babe?” he asks.
He leans against the doorframe with a devious smirk on his face before tucking his phone in his pocket.
“Yeah. Can you zip me, please?”
His fresh cut and neatly trimmed beard has me considering if we could be a little late. I love the little hint of salt and pepper in his waves that has become more prominent. I’m so glad he listened when I begged him not to color it.
Our coordinated outfits weren’t planned, but you can never go wrong with all black. The gold chain he wears faithfully captures the light and my mind flits to it dangling in my face as he drills into me.
I wonder if Nova would like it as much as I do.
He enters the room, assessing me as if he knows exactly what I’m imagining. Still wearing that smirk that drives me wild.
“Who got you smiling like that?” I ask, applying my earrings.
“My fine ass wife. Turn around for me.”
I turn my back to him and he drags my zipper up slowly, placing soft kisses up my spine. I bite back a smile as goosebumps erupt across my skin.
I love this man.
“Don’t start,” I warn with a giggle. “We’ve got all night.”
“You’re lucky I like to share my toys,” he growls, nipping at my neck. “Did you see the picture Nova just sent?”
I shake my head, grabbing my phone off the dresser.
“You need to,” he suggests with a knowing look while adjusting his wristwatch.
1 attachment from Nova.
I swipe to unlock my phone and open the thread. There she is, posing in a mirror selfie with a red latex dress that looks painted on her hourglass frame.
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
“Told you. All ours tonight,” he reminds, slipping on his green bracelet.
A signal for being down for whatever with whoever at the lounge.
“I intend to peel that dress off with my teeth. Care to join me?” he asks, staring expectantly.
“Not if I get to her first,” I say, adjusting the matching bracelet on my wrist.
My husband’s competitive streak is nothing compared to mine.
“That’s my girl. I'll be waiting downstairs. We still got time.”
I take one last look at myself in the mirror—my cleavage is on full display and the cutout on my hip reveals the result of the work I’ve put in at pilates recently. Before I start to overthink my outfit and make us late by changing, I shut the bathroom door and head downstairs.
I hope she likes my dress.
“Are you sure about this, baby?” he asks, grabbing the keys from the entryway table.
“Always. You?”
“Absolutely,” he says, taking my hand.
I hope she likes us.