ASL2: Chapter 87 "Obligation"

-- CHAPTER 87: Obligation --

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-- SUNDAY, JULY 5, 2009 --

“Ohhh… fuuuuck… meeee… Masterrrr…” Summer crooned, pinned to the blankets with her right leg hooked over my shoulder.

I straddled her left leg, a position that let me get extremely deep as I repeatedly pounded her pussy. My right hand also had easy access to her perfect breasts, and I presently tweaked the barbell in her nipple before palming a round globe and giving it a firm squeeze.

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Ohhhwwwaaauuuggghhh!!!” Summer howled as I slipped my fingers down through her pink heart-shaped landing strip to buzz her clit and maximize her pleasure. A moment later I slammed forward one final time and filled her up.

Dawn and Adrienne were right beside us: naked and sixty-nining. I had a lot of fond memories of the very first time I’d ever seen them sixty-nining here in the special clearing. And as it turned out, I wasn’t the only one reminiscing.

Mere seconds after I’d nutted my load into Summer’s saturated snatch, Dawn and Adrienne managed to tense up and scream simultaneous orgasms into each other’s pussies. And when they came down from their respective highs, Dawn rolled off of Adrienne onto her back and started giggling. She reached out to tap the sexy supermodel’s shoulder and said, “You remember the first time we did that?”

Adrienne giggled and nodded. “That was exactly what I was just thinking of. Oh, you shoulda been there, Tiger. It was SPECTACULAR.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groaned, having already pulled out of Summer as I rested on my back. Rubbing my forehead, I complained, “How many years have you two been rubbing that one in my face?”

The girls both giggled and then sighed, seemingly satisfied with their most recent “spectacular” session, smirking and shaking their heads. The four of us were now lined up side-by-side(-by-side-by-side), with me at one end, and then Summer, and then Dawn, and finally Adrienne on the far end but reversed in her sixty-nining position.

Summer rolled up onto one elbow and nudged Dawn. “Tell me about that first time, if it was really so memorable.”

“Well let’s start with the fact that Miss Supermodel here is the most gorgeous thing on the planet,” Dawn drawled. “First day I met her I wanted to shove my face into her massive hooters, kiss my way down her belly, and find out if she tasted as amazing as she looked.”

“Me?” Adrienne chuckled as she now sat up in a cross-legged position at the end of the clearing closest to the tree that gave us plenty of shade. “Dawn, you’re more beautiful than an angel. Your photos gave me an idea, but they were a little out of date. The second I first saw you in-person? You were even more stunning than I’d expected. Instant attraction.” My Tigress snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Summer started giggled. “So how long did it take you two to hook up with each other? A matter of minutes?”

Dawn and Adrienne frowned at each other, and as Dawn sat up as well, she ventured, “About a week and a half?”

“A week and a half?!?” Summer exclaimed in surprise. Sitting up herself.

“Something like that,” Adrienne confirmed. “Felt like an eternity. So awkward.”

“So much angst,” Dawn agreed.

“Angst?” Summer looked confused. “Why?”

Dawn and Adrienne glanced at each other, perhaps trying to decide between them which one of them would tell the story. Adrienne shrugged and leaned back on both hands, a position that thrust her big bare breasts forward, and I felt my gaze waver for a few seconds before I managed to bring my attention back to her face.

“It was my fault, really,” Adrienne explained to Summer. “You only saw the very beginnings of my relationship with Ben, and we weren’t even together when you left.”

“Still, I could tell even back then how much he meant to you,” Summer declared.

“That was nothing compared to how important he was to me by the end of the next year.” Adrienne gave me a wistful look before returning her attention to Summer. “Thing is: he actually started our senior year in a long-distance relationship with Dawn.”

“Oh, I remember.” Summer glanced at Dawn. “That was your first attempt at being in a romantic relationship. But the distance wasn’t working and you ended up with Ryan.”

“And he ended up with Adrienne,” Dawn pointed out. “So you can start to see where the conflict might come up.”

Summer narrowed her eyes. “When you two finally met, A.D. naturally feared her new boyfriend reconnecting with his ex-girlfriend, given that the only reason the two of them broke up was distance, not incompatibility.”

“And Adrienne tries to claim it was her fault,” Dawn added, “but really it was me feeling jealous about them having the intimacy I’d given up. For years and years, Ben and I were inseparable partners here at camp. It was the only time we had together year after year, and we were pretty much joined at the hip from sunup to sundown, even before the sex stuff started happening. He was my best friend, and then all of a sudden he showed up to camp with a girlfriend. First day I met her I wanted to shove my face into her massive hooters, yes. But before that all I could see was the bitch stealing my Ben away from me, and I didn’t handle it very well.”

“No, you didn’t,” Adrienne remarked a little bitterly. But she caught herself a moment later before sighing and adding, “But I didn’t make it easy on you, either. Ben had tried to make clear to me how important you were to him but that it wouldn’t change the way he felt about me, but I didn’t believe him.”

“In all fairness,” I interjected, “I wouldn’t have believed me. I had a horrible track record of fidelity at that point.”

Adrienne snorted. “Well that’s true enough.”

“Your fear was justified,” I continued, “and on top of all that, Felicia tried to seduce me. Tried to blackmail me about Brooke, actually.”

“Aww, I miss Felicia,” Dawn sighed.

I chuckled. “A sentence I never would’ve predicted you might someday say back when we were sixteen.”

“Me, neither. But she proved to be the catalyst that brought me and Adrienne together. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that. If she hadn’t tried to seduce you, I’m not sure when we would’ve realized how much we were hurting you with our little cold war.” Dawn then turned back to Adrienne, asking, “How is Felicia?”

“Married, happy, pregnant,” the blonde explained.

“Really?” the pink-haired girl exclaimed in surprise.

“Maybe next year she and James will bring the baby here and start a new tradition.”

I smiled. “Would be nice to see them again.”

“Nice?” Summer looked a little confused. “I thought Felicia was the enemy. She tried to blackmail you about Brooke, didn’t she?”

“It’s a long story,” Dawn said with a laugh. “The short version is that she was feeling lonely and horny. Adrienne and I got together and came up with a little plan of revenge. We had Ben fuck her pretty little brains out, handcuffed her, put a leash around her neck, and then told her the gateway to Ben’s cock was through our pussies. We had a LOT of fun for the rest of camp.”

“And Felicia turned out to be a pretty good friend,” Adrienne added. “She’s the one who got me into modeling, actually. Set me up with my first gigs, taught me about the industry, and we spent some time living together before I moved to New York. But eventually she met a really great guy, got tired of the grind, and retired. Now she’s in LA working on the production side of things with her husband.”

“Nice.” Summer smiled. “And then after that special summer, the two of you became fast friends.”

Adrienne and Dawn looked at each other for a moment. Dawn smirked. “Uh… not exactly.”

“I think the need to be Number One in Ben’s life never really went away,” Adrienne explained. “That first Morris Camp trip we had a truce, for his sake. I wouldn’t have called Dawn a friend at that point - more like a sister-in-law I had no choice but to accept because she was family. It was clear how much she meant to him, and I realized that any attempt to keep him away from her would only make him suffer and cause him to resent me. I was just as much of an attention-whore back then as I am now, probably worse, and it ate away at me inside that I always felt she was more important to him than I was, even though I was his girlfriend. And that was something that continued to bother me up until and even after our engagement.”

By now the four of us had shifted into a loose circle with Summer on my left, Dawn on my right, and Adrienne across from me. Seated with my ankles crossed and my knees up, I frowned as I hugged my legs. “You never told me that.”

“Dawn was your constant, your best friend,” Adrienne said matter-of-factly. “I told you before that I hoped she and I could become close friends the way I was with Candy, but then I realized it would never happen because she was already your best friend. Even though she was still with Ryan, everybody knew that if push came to shove and she had to pick him or you, she’d pick you.”

“Ryan, most especially, knew that,” Dawn sighed.

“Just like everybody knew that if push came to shove and you had to pick me or her,” Adrienne continued, gesturing at Dawn, “you’d pick her.”

I shook my head. “That wasn’t the case at all.”

“Wasn’t it?” Adrienne shrugged. “In the end, you and I broke up. And by the time I left for New York, you were in a new romantic relationship with her.”

“First of all, you broke up with me specifically because I picked you over Dawn,” I countered. “I chose you, and I gave you a promise ring, and you freaked the fuck out and moved out of the house. Second of all, Dawn and I didn’t get together until a year later, starting a relationship in part because you pushed us together.”

“Because I knew you two belonged together. I told Dawn that flat out even while we were still dating. You still do belong together, by the way.” Adrienne shrugged. “Best friends since birth. Husband and wife in spirit, even if never on paper. So interconnected that I honestly believe there IS some kind of metaphysical link joining you two together. And if push comes to shove--”

“We are NOT getting into those hypothetical arguments again,” I cut her off.

Adrienne shrugged again, continuing, “If you had to pick just one of the three of us here--”

“We are NOT. Doing that!” I cut her off again. “Hypothetical arguments accomplish nothing and only make you all doubt yourselves. Didn’t we cover this already on Thursday night? No more Plan A’s, B’s, or C’s. I’m not ranking you or choosing Number Ones. The new plan is that I’m not marrying anyone. I thought we all agreed on that, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Summer agreed. “We’re in a polyamorous relationship now. Nobody tries to push out any of the others. Even if we don’t formalize any of these bonds with marriage certificates, we all have a place by his side. We all fill different needs in his life, just as he fills a need for each of us. The four of us are committed to making this work, aren’t we?”

“Of course, of course,” Adrienne agreed with a nod, although her tone was less than certain.

Noticing that, I sat up straighter and gave her a questioning look. “What’s wrong? Here we are: the four of us together and all on the same page, right? We got our cards on the table and everyone seems comfortable and happy with our roles in each other’s life. You, Dawn, Summer, me: we’re a team. We made it past all the drama of a few days ago. It’s time for us to let go of the angst, relax, and enjoy ourselves without worry so much about the future, right?”

“I know, I know…”

I frowned. “You say those words like you don’t know.”

“It’s just…” Adrienne sighed, letting her head fall back and look up into the tree above us as if it might have the answers. “The status quo never remains the same, right? Maybe I’ve just been conditioned to believe that every time I feel happy, there’s a trap door waiting beneath my feet. I want to believe we’re on our way to Happily Ever After, but I’m scared at the same time.”

“‘Maybe expecting the bottom to fall out from beneath you becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy’,” I quoted. “Those were your words to me in New York.”

“I know, I know…”

“How can I help reassure you?” I spread my arms and took in the other two. “How can WE help reassure you?”

“I don’t know that you can. Reminding me of New York reminds me that you wanted Dawn to be your wife and you made her your Plan A.” Adrienne looked around for a moment. “And being here right now reminds me…”

Her voice trailed off as she continued to glance around from the babbling brook to the wind-rustled leaves and back down to Summer, and then Dawn, and finally back to me.

Adrienne gestured around us. “This is yours and Dawn’s special clearing. This is yours and Dawn’s special camp.”

Dawn sat up straighter as she came to a sudden epiphany. “This is where Ben and I had sex against your explicit orders not to two years ago.”

Adrienne pursed her lips and made a face. Wincing at me, she added, “This is where you proved to me that when push comes to shove, you’ll always choose Dawn over me.”

I shook my head. “I thought I made that clear: I’ll always choose BOTH of you. If Dawn ever demanded I cut you out of my life, I’d refuse her demand too. You and I got engaged right after that, remember?”

“And as you’ve pointed out to me, you never actually asked me to marry you.” Adrienne grimaced. “I just said, ‘Yes, I will marry you’ and you sorta went with it. You didn’t really want to ask.”

I didn’t have an immediate response to that. The statement itself was true. But just when Adrienne started to shake her head and scowl, I sat up straight and stated, “Forever and Always: that’s the promise we made to each other, is it not? And not just as each other’s Rock, but as my girlfriend. You and Summer are both my official girlfriends, and Dawn would be too if not for her preference not to have a formal title. I thought we covered this on Thursday, and are you really having fresh doubts again so soon?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Adrienne sighed. “I’m being needy and afraid. It’s just… It’s been a rough couple of years since then, full of rollercoaster up and downs, hasn’t it?”

“Feels like it’s been a rough ten years,” I said ruefully. “Pretty much from the first time I had sex, come to think of it. Life was so much simpler when all I wanted to do was procrastinate my homework and play video games.”

“Life hasn’t always been easy, that’s for sure,” Summer sighed.

Adrienne looked thoughtful for a moment and then gave me a sad look. “You and me getting engaged was the high point of my life. Everything was going great: you, Sasha, my career. I was in love, I was having fun, I had no real worries, and I felt secure in who I was.”

“But then I happened,” Dawn muttered glumly.

Adrienne frowned. “Wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” Dawn blushed and shrugged. “Kinda seemed to me that from the moment I reentered Ben’s life, your perfect little world started going downhill.”

“Through no fault of your own.” Adrienne shook her head. “Your presence doesn’t excuse my lack of attention to Ben. You reentering Ben’s life shone a spotlight on the flaws in my relationships with him; it didn’t cause those flaws. My engagement was a house of cards waiting to fall down on its own. And seeing the way he was with you just showed me how badly I was failing at being a true wife to him and didn’t deserve him in the first place.”

“Wait, what?”

“You were his constant. You were his best friend.”

“We only saw each other on weekends back then.”

“Physically or in-person, maybe. But you shared your day with him, got into each other’s heads, and bared your souls to each other.” Adrienne shook her head and looked defeated. “I shared all that stuff with Sasha. Even before you came along, Ben and I barely interacted with each other except to have sex. That wasn’t the foundation for a marriage. I looked at your relationship and realized I needed to be more like you, but by the time I figured that out it was too late. I tried to do better, to be more like you for Sasha, but even that relationship failed. But hey, third time’s the charm, right? Maybe this time I can be more like Dawn.” That last part she directed at me.

But I frowned. “I don’t want you to be more like Dawn.”

“Of course you do. She’s the ideal wife against which everyone else is measured, and what we all aspire to be. Tell him, Summer.”

My girlfriend glanced at me, shrugged, and said, “I hate to use the term ‘Perfect Dawn’ given everyone’s history with it, but yeah… I think we all aspire to be ‘Perfect Dawn’.”

Dawn herself chuckled and shook her head. “Even Dawn can’t successfully be ‘Perfect Dawn’.”

“Doesn’t stop you from aspiring towards that goal,” Summer pointed out.

Dawn frowned and looked down at her feet, shaking her head. “I’ve accepted that is a goal that can never be achieved. One of those ‘aim for a hundred percent but be willing to settle for ninety-two’ kind of things. Still an ‘A’, right?”

I shook my head. “But I don’t want any of you chasing some Perfect Dawn ideal. Each of you is different and unique. Each of you fills a different role in my life. Adrienne: I never wanted you to be like Dawn for me; I’ve only ever wanted you to be you. You’re my Tigress, not a Dawn-clone. I want you fiery and passionate and fun-loving, with an appetite for mowing down pretty little things and sharing them with me. I never needed you asking me about the mundane parts of my day.”

“Because you have Dawn to share that stuff with.”

“Well… kinda yeah. But like I said: different roles. We’re a team of multiple people, not a regular two-person partnership. We’re a Yin-Yang symbol but with four parts instead of two, with individual strengths and weaknesses that complement each other. I want you doing what you’re good at.”

“If I only focus on what I’m good at and never address my weaknesses, I can never improve. I want to be better at sharing your day with you the way I saw you do with Dawn.” Adrienne gestured at the purple-haired girl. “I look at Summer’s selflessness and want to be more like her.”

Summer snorted. “I look at your confidence and charisma and want to be more like YOU.”

“First of all,” I cut in, focusing on Adrienne, “you keep overblowing this idea of selfishness and selflessness. You’re not selfish. Just… you’re not. You like to have fun, and you want everyone else to have fun too. That’s NOT being selfish. I KNOW how much you value my happiness and the happiness of everyone else around you. Do you get misguided on occasion? Sure, but nobody’s perfect.”

“But I WANT to be perfect for you,” Adrienne insisted. “I want to be the complete package for you.”

I smirked. “And you’re gonna suddenly claim I’m the complete package for you?”

“YES. Absolutely.”

I shook my head. “For one thing, I’ve seen how much happier you’ve been since Sasha came back. I may be your boyfriend, your romantic love, but Sasha’s your constant, true enough? She’s your partner in crime and your daily companion, especially while I’m at work. Even when Sasha was gone, Dawn was a decent stand-in for a couple of months, and maybe a bit of Eden as well. The point is: don’t overblow my role in your life.”

“You’re the critical role in my life. I’m happier with Sasha back in my life, yes. But if she left again, I could handle it.”

“In part because of everyone else in our lives: Dawn, Summer, Eden, Emma, Kim… even June.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Adrienne agreed. “If Sasha left again, the others could help step up and replace her. You’re the only irreplaceable one in my life.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Because I’ve got a penis?”

“Because you’re my Tiger. Because you’re the Great Love of My Life (sorry for stealing that, Summer). Because you’re the only husband I’ll ever want to have, because I want you to be the father of my children, and because I want to spend the rest of my life by your side and I’m terrified you’ll realize that I’m replaceable because you’ve got everyone else, especially these two right here.” Adrienne gestured out with both hands, one each for Dawn and Summer. “Best friend. Perfect Pet.”

“You’re absolutely irreplaceable to him,” Summer countered. “The two of you are the pillars of his existence, something he’s already told me before. Something he’s already told Iris before.”

Adrienne blinked. “You told Iris I was irreplaceable?”

I nodded and confirmed, “You ARE irreplaceable.”

Adrienne smiled.

But Summer continued, “I’m the one who’s expendable, really.”

I rubbed my forehead and groaned. “Not this again.”

“The Air You Breathe. Your Tigress Forever and Always.” Summer gestured out with both hands, one each for Dawn and Adrienne before pointing at herself. “Plastic house plant.”

“Iris thinks you’re an idiot,” I muttered.

“Iris would never say the word ‘idiot’,” Summer countered.

“And neither should you,” Dawn pointed out.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry, Summer. I’m the last one who should be calling anyone names.”

“Actually, I rather like that you felt comfortable enough to use the word,” Summer said brightly. “I told you before I didn’t want you acting like you were walking on eggshells around me.”

I blinked. “Uh, I suppose. But then I’ve also told you before I don’t like you or anyone else calling you a house plant or otherwise belittling your place in my life.”

“Yes, you have,” she conceded. “But you’ve also told Iris you feel an obligation to never abandon me now that my mom is gone.”

Adrienne frowned. “Wait, he actually said that during a session?”

I rubbed my forehead again and groaned defensively, “I don’t feel obligated to never abandon you.”

“Our last couples’ session before this trip,” Summer explained to Adrienne. “Like somebody dropped a stray puppy on his doorstep with a note saying she would be euthanized at the pound if he didn’t keep her. He might love the puppy, but every time she tracked paw prints into the house or chewed up his favorite slippers, he would always resent her extra hard knowing he didn’t ask for the damn dog in the first place.”

“You’re not a puppy, and I specifically said I don’t want to feel obligated to never abandon you now that your mom is gone,” I added in the same defensive tone. “There’s a difference.”

“Saying you don’t want to feel something kinda implies that you do feel something,” Dawn pointed out.

I shot her a look that silently grumped, ‘Not helping.’

“Ben doesn’t love you because he’s obligated to love you,” Adrienne insisted seriously, her full attention on Summer. “Ben loved you before your mom died, and he’s loved you after your mom died. And to flip this around, do you feel obligated to love him because your mom died and he’s been supporting you so much?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” Summer stated plainly. “I’ve told you all before that every time someone does something for me, I credit that to the mental account I keep running for how much I need to repay.”

Adrienne rubbed her forehead. “Has it ever occurred to you that you don’t need to do that?”

Summer smirked. “Not really.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that Ben doesn’t want you doing that? That by making him aware that you carry that kind of mental debt actually reduces his happiness?”

Summer blinked and frowned, and for a moment it looked like Adrienne’s question had broken her brain. “Uhhh…”

“Real love isn’t about obligation,” Adrienne continued. “Love is a choice born of the way we feel about each other because we want to, not because we have to or we’re supposed to. Believe me: I’ve been through the obligation game myself. Ben was my boyfriend when my dad died. When his family took me in, I did feel obligated to love him and not break up with him. Fuck, Tiger, Mom flatly told me I was obligated to never leave you and owed it to her to take care of you.”

I winced. “And I’ve always said I don’t want you marrying me because you promised Mom you’d never leave me.”

“And I wouldn’t. Not for Mom’s sake. Fuck, when we DID break up, my first thought was to leave the family entirely. Because real love isn’t about obligation. If you’re only staying out of obligation, that’s when you know it’s time to get up and get the hell outta there. Sasha went through the exact same thing when she lost her parents. Rod’s family took her in, and she stayed with him out of obligation, but she never truly loved him and eventually she had to leave. I never left, because I’m NOT with you out of obligation. I’m with you because I WANT to be, because you’re my Tiger, and because I’m your Tigress Forever and Always.” Adrienne then turned back to Summer. “Ben seems to have had a run of collecting girls that lost their parents. He’s taken you in, but it’s important that we figure out whether you’re more like me in my relationship with him, or if you’re more like Sasha in her relationship with Rod.”

“I’m like you, and not least because Ben is Ben for both of us,” Summer insisted. “He’s incredible and amazing.”

“But then thirty seconds ago when I asked if you felt obligated to love him after losing your mom, you said ‘yes’.”

“It’s both. I love Ben for Ben and would love him regardless of what happened to my mom. But Mom did die, and he and you and everyone else took me in, and I DO feel obligated to him for taking care of me, and I feel obligated to you… and to Dawn… and to everyone else as well. I don’t see love and obligation as being mutually exclusive. When she was alive, Mom loved me, but she was also obligated to love me because she was my mom. It CAN be both.”

Now it was Adrienne’s turn to blink and frown, and for a moment it looked like Summer’s statement had broken her brain.

But Adrienne shook her head and recovered quickly, stating, “Okay I’ll concede that obligation and love don’t have to be mutually exclusive. If nothing else, I do feel obligated not only to Ben, but to our entire family, to do whatever I can for them after they took me in. And yet that obligation is not the source of my love for them like it seems to be the source of your love for Ben.”

Summer frowned. “My obligation to Ben isn’t the source of my love for him.”

“Did you or did you not say you keep crediting your mental debt account every time he does something nice for you and feel obligated to settle those debts?”

Summer shrugged like it was no big deal. “I did say that, and I meant every word.”

“That’s not love, Summer,” Adrienne stated with a sigh. “It’s not.”

“There’s no one single definition of love. You get to love Ben in your way; I get to love him in mine,” Summer insisted. “Some people think of relationships as two separate individuals who do their own thing and come together every now and again for mutual benefit. Neither wants to be dependent on the other or be a burden on anyone else. That’s clearly not how I do relationships. We were just talking about Yin and Yang, about give and take and finding ways to complement each other, not a pie chart cut into four perfectly even parts at ninety-degree angles. Now maybe by phrasing things as a mental debt account was the wrong way to put it. Rather, I see Ben as doing everything he can to love and support me, and so I want to do everything I can to love and support him in return.”

“But you’re making it a conditional, a cause and effect,” Adrienne argued. “You’re saying, ‘Because Ben loves me, therefore I love him.’ You’re implying that if he were to stop loving you, then you would love him less.”

“No, you’re implying that if he were to stop loving me, then I would love him less,” Summer argued. “I love Ben because I love him, period. I don’t love him because he treats me well. My problem is that I’ve stayed in love with guys who didn’t treat me very well at all. But we’re not talking about Toby or any of my other asshole ex-boyfriends.”

“Yes, please let’s not talk about Toby or any of your other asshole ex-boyfriends,” I muttered, holding my head and grimacing.

Summer winced. “I’m sorry. We’re upsetting you.”

I shrugged. “I’d rather focus on the four of us here together right now than waste a single neuron on the fucking waste of oxygen that used to be the man that killed your mom.”

Dawn slipped her hand into mine and gave it a squeeze, her voice asking, You alright?

‘I’ll be fine,’ I thought back to her.

She arched her eyebrow. I’ve never liked this word ‘fine’. It--

‘Yeah-yeah-yeah,’ I cut her off, squeezing her hand once and then letting go of it to re-wrap my arms around my knees. And after taking a deep breath, I fixed Summer with a stare and said plainly, “You and I already went over this with Iris before we came to camp. You’ve been diagnosed with a dependent personality, and Iris said I’ve shown some tendencies that correlate with ‘White Knight Syndrome’, although she wouldn’t go so far as to diagnose me with it. Bottom line: I like taking care of you, and you like me taking care of you. In that sense, we’re a perfect fit.”

“But there are inherent dangers in both DPD and White Knight Syndrome,” Adrienne said warily.

“I realize that, and Iris cautioned us to be mindful of them,” I replied. “But at the same time, those are core parts of who we are and don’t necessarily need to be changed. Summer finding a sense of motivation in appreciating what others do for her and then doing what she can for others in return is not inherently a bad thing. It only becomes a problem when she fails to properly take care of herself at the same time.”

“And Ben made clear that he wants me speaking up for myself to ensure that doesn’t happen,” Summer piped up. “I understand that I’d be failing him if I didn’t.”

“Iris still wants you thinking of your own self-interest and self-preservation as a better motivator than ‘failing me’.”

Summer smiled. “Baby steps.”

I chuckled and reached out to squeeze her hand.

“And Iris said that you feeling a sense of purpose and fulfillment by taking care of me is not inherently a bad thing either,” Summer continued. “But likewise, you need to ensure you properly take care of yourself as well.”

“But even if he doesn’t, WE will,” Adrienne insisted, reaching over and patting the top of Dawn’s knee. “We’re a team, right? And we look out for each other.”

Summer fixed Adrienne with a look. “You’re only proving my point: we all want to take care of him. He wants to take care of all of us. That’s not obligation - that’s love.”

“And I love YOU,” I interjected, squeezing Summer’s hand again, “PLUS I feel a cosmic obligation to take care of you now that your mom is gone. Love and obligation aren’t mutually exclusive, and I can feel both at the same time without it being a bad thing. I feel obligated to take care of both BJ and Kim, as I think any father or husband would feel, and I think we can all agree there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

Turning my attention to both Dawn and Adrienne, I spread my hands out to both of them as well.

“Quite frankly,” I continued, “I feel obligated to take care of both of you. I feel obligated to take care of Sasha and June and Eden and Emma. Penny, Dayna, Brandi, Brooke, and DJ. Even Lynne and Bert to an extent.  These are the important people in my life, my family, and there’s a sense of responsibility inherent in family. We all take care of each other, and we’re  obliged  to take care of each other, but that’s not a negative.”

“As long as obligation is not the source of our love for each other,” Adrienne clarified.

“Agreed.” I gave her a firm nod. “You’re not still in a romantic relationship with me because of an obligation to my family, but you do love and appreciate everyone in our family because we’re your family. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to feel both for me. I’m allowed to feel both for you. Because I do. I love you, my Tigress, AND I feel obliged to take care of you. I LOVE taking care of you. When Sasha broke up with you and you spent ten straight days in my arms, I adored being there for you.”

Adrienne smirked. “You really do have a White Knight Syndrome.”

“Maybe I do. But I’m okay with that too. Because if having a White Knight Syndrome means that I’m driven to take care of the three of you - my girlfriend, my Tigress, my Dawn - then so be it. You keep calling me the great love of your lives. Well, the three of you are the great loves of MY life. And I’m going to do everything I can to keep us ALL together.”

“We’re a team,” Summer said happily.

“We’re the Furious Five!” Adrienne enthused.

I blinked in surprise and chuckled. “I take it you’ve been talking to Brandi.”

Adrienne snorted. “Of course I’ve been talking to Brandi; I talk to everybody. I’m quite flattered to be Tigress, actually. She’s badass.”

“And I’m rather happy for you to think of me as Crane,” Dawn said quietly. “I really will be loyal to you for the rest of my life.”

“I wasn’t so sure about Viper, though,” Summer sighed with a skeptical expression. “Brandi did try to explain that a Chinese snake is romantic and spiritual, but it’s hard to shake the American definition of a snake.”

“Would you rather pick Monkey or Mantis?” I asked with a grin.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Summer then scooted over and wrapped her arms around me. “All that matters to me is that you’re my Po: warm and snuggly and good-hearted.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Now it was my turn to make a face. “I’m not sure I like the idea of being a fat panda.”

“You’re the hero of the story,” Adrienne stated grandly, opening her arms. “No matter how much anyone else tries to hurt you, you never give up. You push through. You keep fighting. There is no secret ingredient: your power was inside you all along.”

“Well, it’s inside him until he pumps and pumps and pumps and then sprays all that power inside ME,” Summer giggled.

Dawn arched an eyebrow. “If I’m not mistaken, he already sprayed all that power inside you.”

“He sprayed that power inside one hole.” Summer smiled up at me. “I still need two more to get a trifecta, and I think you’re obligated to satisfy me, right, boyfriend?”

I grinned and held her close. “Coming right up.”

****

Summer did eventually get her trifecta of “power” in the clearing, although by no means did that mean I skimped out on my obligations to service the other two girls as well. Let’s just say that by the end of the morning, all four of us were sweaty and satisfied.

My trio of girls and I cleaned up and hiked back to camp in time for lunch. We had some unstructured time off in the afternoon, and we spent a couple of hours relaxing by the lake together so I could get some BJ/Daddy sand time.

After that, we went on a family horse ride (except for BJ and June: BJ because he was too little to ride, and June because she’d tried it the one time and decided that was enough). The girls all wore their riding chaps, plaid shirts, and cowboy hats and boots, which of course immediately reminded me of our Fourth of July barn activities. Yes, they also wore jeans beneath those chaps, but still: fond memories.

Dawn reintroduced me to Aurora, who was actually old enough to ride on now (and Dawn certainly did). Our guide took us on a scenic route that included two river crossings, which were highlights. And everyone certainly enjoyed themselves.

But everyone felt quite saddle sore afterwards. For anyone who’s never been on horseback for more than an hour, having one’s legs stretched to the sides around a barrel-shaped mule or mare for that long makes even walking rather… uncomfortable… for a little while.

Suffice to say: sex was not at the forefront of anyone’s mind. We all returned to our respective cabins to change into clothes that didn’t smell like horse and then met back up for dinner.

After the meal, I discreetly told Adrienne and Summer both that I wanted to talk to Dawn alone for a bit. I noticed she’d been fairly quiet all day dating back to the morning foursome. While Adrienne and Summer had debated the meaning of “obligation”, Dawn had been conspicuously silent. And she’d remained a bit moody and thoughtful ever since.

Even now, she’d finished bussing her tray and waited outside on the porch by the railing, just sort of staring out at nowhere in particular. I wordlessly moved alongside my best friend, slipped an arm around her waist, and hugged her close to my side. She didn’t startle at all, as if she’d anticipated and felt my approach the entire way, and merely set the side of her head against my shoulder.

“Balcony?” I suggested. “Just you and me?”

Dawn turned to look up into my face, her sky-blue eyes warm and liquid. “I’ll always go anywhere with you.”

I grinned and hugged her closely. And then I slipped my hand into hers to lead her off the porch and start down the trail.

With dinner having just finished, there was still about an hour to go before sunset, so the lookout point figured to be unoccupied. We held hands and walked in companionable silence, neither of us feeling the need to speak just yet. I wanted to simply enjoy her presence for now, feeling her energy flow through our joined hands and pass back and forth between us.

But she let go of my hand once we reached the lookout point, a short bluff in the shadow of the larger “Ridge” with a decent view, if not quite as expansive as the much more popular sunset spot. I took a spot on the bench carved from a downed log while Dawn went a bit closer to the edge, folding her arms over her chest and gazing outward.

The weather was still warm, and she’d gone with a collared yellow North Face hiking shirt with the sleeves rolled up above her elbows, unbuttoned low enough to expose some of her cleavage without necessarily calling for attention to it. Navy blue shorts gave me a pleasant view of her sculpted booty atop the creamy skin of her perfect legs all the way down to low-top hiking shoes. And her hair was in a simple ponytail.

For some reason, I found myself thinking of that summer when she turned sixteen and gave me her virginity. I remembered being young, dumb, and full of hormones. But I also remembered just how completely natural it felt to be with her, as if she had always been meant to be by my side. Back then, she’d had a boyfriend and I’d been dating Megan. We were dating other people, and despite knowing full well that our parents had kidded-not-kidded about me and Dawn eventually getting married and uniting our two families, back then neither of us felt any pressure to actually do so. We were high schoolers living five hundred miles apart with our whole lives ahead of us. Concerns about settling down and getting married had not yet entered our heads and neither of us even thought about trying to do a long-distance romance. We had been best friends - intimate best friends, yes - but still just best friends.

She was still my best friend.

But she was also my soulmate.

And she was also my wife in spirit.

But she would never be my wife on paper.

“It’s complicated,” she said quietly.

I blinked and looked up at her. I was so used to hearing her voice in my head that I only belatedly realized that she’d actually spoken the words out loud.

“My feelings for you are complicated,” she added, as if that really clarified anything. “Best friend, soulmate, wife… At this point they’re all just words - labels that fail to properly describe the way I feel about you. We’re romantic and yet sometimes not. I’m your constant sometimes but then don’t see you at all during the week. I love you like a wife but I don’t want to move into your room or share your bed every night.”

“You’re a bundle of contradictions,” I said quietly.

Dawn shrugged and went back to staring out across the landscape. “It’s complicated.”

“Story of our lives.”

Neither of us spoke for a long while. I got the impression that Dawn had been doing a lot of thinking today - a LOT of thinking - and she wasn’t done processing yet. Perhaps she’d meant to come talk to me later after she was done. Perhaps (more likely) she’d meant to process on her own, never come talk to me, and then smile and deflect me if I probed her about it. Maybe she was about to smile and deflect me if I probed her about it right now.

But I didn’t probe her about it.

I waited.

I still remembered what she’d said to me when I’d suggested she come with me to the Balcony: ‘I’ll always go anywhere with you.’

Maybe ‘anywhere’ meant more than just the Balcony itself. Maybe ‘anywhere’, today, meant going to a place in her heart and mind where she could openly share with me.

Maybe.

I wanted to find out.

But I also got the distinct sense that if I tried to push her at all - even a little bit - she’d react defensively and turtle up again.

So I waited.

And I waited.

“How long have we been best friends?” she asked quietly, out of the blue, still not even looking at me.

“Our entire lives. Your birthday is on Thursday, so… twenty-four years and 361 days?”

Dawn nodded slowly. “If I asked you to marry me, would you still say ‘no’?”

“I’d still say ‘no’,” I confirmed without hesitation.

“What if I asked to have the unofficial ceremony in the living room with just the four of us so we could recite our vows that way?”

I took a deep breath and sighed, already knowing the answer. “No.”

Dawn pursed her lips and nodded slowly, already expecting that answer as well. “I figured.”

“I know you,” I said quietly. “When you offered the living room ceremony, you meant it for me, to make ME feel better about the status of our relationship. But in the same way you don’t want a bracelet or a ring or a government piece of paper announcing to the world that you love me, you don’t even want an unofficial ceremony binding us together.”

“Because we’re already bound together.”

“We are.”

“If you wanna get technical, we DID exchange the wedding vows on Thursday. ‘To have and to hold’, ‘From this day forward’, et cetera.”

I smiled. “’Til death do us part.”

“I do,” she said quietly, her voice a ghostlike whisper.

And then she started crying.

As if a dam had burst, a wave of psychic anguish flooded forth so hard that it shocked me. I felt like I’d been physically stabbed - in my brain, no less. And if there hadn’t been a backrest on this long bench I would’ve fallen over.

I’d instinctively clenched my eyes shut against the pain, and even when I opened them it felt like the whole world was spinning. It took several seconds for my eyes to swim back into focus, and when I shook my head to clear it and finally faced forward, I saw that Dawn was on her hands and knees, bawling her eyes out.

OF COURSE I WANT TO MARRY YOU.

The words floated in visible form before me, neon pink and in ALL CAPS.

But as I watched, the words themselves dissolved into tiny grains of neon pink sand before being scattered into nothingness by the wind.

Quickly, I slid off the bench and crouched next to my Dawn. I wrapped her up in my arms while she shuddered and sobbed against me. My presence only seemed to make her sob even harder, and after a moment I simply scooped her up in my arms and carried her back to the bench with her seated sideways in my lap.

‘Talk to me,’ I pleaded silently. ‘Talk to me.’

It took another minute for Dawn to calm down. Eventually she got her breathing under control and wiped her eyes against the fabric of my shirt.

‘Talk to me,’ I pleaded silently again. ‘Please.’

At last Dawn let out a long exhalation. Her arms were wrapped around me, her face buried into the crook of my neck. She relaxed her grip as she calmed, and after another minute she finally picked up her head and gazed down at me through bleary eyes. And in the back of my mind I heard her say, Alright.

I smiled, but rather than say anything, once again I waited her out.

No pressure.

No probing.

Nothing that would make her get defensive and turtle up. This was a time for me to let her tell me whatever she wanted to tell me. So I simply held her, willed her to understand that I wanted to be here to support her in any way I could, and prepared myself to wait however long was necessary.

Fortunately, she didn’t make me wait that long.

“I’m scared,” she said quietly.

I nodded silently.

“I can’t live without you. You’re The Air I Breathe, remember?”

I nodded and smiled.

“And that’s a bad thing, I think.”

I frowned and furrowed my eyebrows.

“Option Three didn’t work,” she said quietly. “At least, I didn’t let it work the way it was supposed to. You told me that the only way we could move forward would be if we both understood that the probability of us getting back together as an official couple was zero percent, and that only then could we move forward.”

I nodded my agreement.

Dawn pursed her lips and shook her head. And then with a sigh, she shrugged and gave me a helpless look. “I didn’t get off the hamster wheel.”

I pursed my lips and winced. The memory of those neon pink letters hanging in the air stuck with me, tangible evidence that she still wanted to marry me, even if the letters themselves weren’t actually tangible.

“I’m always scared. I don’t like being scared, but I’m ALWAYS scared. I still live in fear of losing you. We were supposed to be ‘unafraid’ and believe that nothing could ever separate us, and yet I’m still afraid. You told me about Option Three. You told me that only by making absolutely clear that our relationship going forward was going to be as best friends - but never as titled wife - could we stop being caught in the purgatory of uncertainty about our relationship. But Option Three didn’t work. I still think about marrying you fifteen times a day.”

I sighed wearily and gave her an apologetic look.

“I thought I’d be okay after Summer’s cards on the table talk. I thought I’d be okay with the resolution that you’d never marry any of us, but that you, me, Adrienne, and Summer could be a polyamorous quad. Having all three of us on equal footing - all three of us committed to you but no one girl taking the crown and agreeing not to chase the crown - I thought that would give me peace.”

“But it didn’t.”

“I still want the crown.”

I sighed.

“But I don’t deserve the crown.”

“It’s not that you don’t deserve the--”

“I don’t deserve the crown,” she repeated, cutting me off. “I don’t. I don’t want to want it, but I do. I don’t want to think about what I need to change in myself to deserve it, but I do. And as long as we’re together, I…”

Her voice trailed off, and she set her forehead against mine with her eyes closed.

“DJ was right.” Dawn sighed. “Being in a romantic relationship with you makes me worse, not better. I try to be Perfect Dawn. I crave being Perfect Dawn. I… I covet being Perfect Dawn, and I mean that very much in the sense of wanting something I can’t have. And even though we’re NOT together right now, well… we’re together. I started calling you ‘husband’ and you started calling me ‘wife’. I thought that by drawing a hard line between ‘wife in spirit’ and ‘actual wife’ I could get away with it, but that’s utter bullshit. It’s why we can’t even have an unofficial ceremony in the living room. It’s why saying those wedding vows to each other on Thursday made me dream of saying those vows for real in a proper ceremony with all our friends and family around us… and feel all the more crushed for knowing it wasn’t real.”

“It was real enough to me,” I said quietly, speaking for the first time in a long while.

“I know it was. It was real enough to me too. I vowed to always love you, to always be yours, and I plan to uphold that vow. And yet…” Dawn’s tears started flowing again. “I can’t help but realize that it wasn’t real.”

“Then let’s MAKE it real. You, me, let’s…” I felt my throat catch and my breath stop before I finished that sentence, my heart seizing as it realized the futility of my words.

“Let’s get married for real?” she finished for me. “You know we can’t do that.”

I sighed.

“Being your wife would make me worse, not better. Not to mention Summer and Adrienne. They’re your girlfriends now. Both of them. All three of us agreed to not chase the crown, and I couldn’t do that to them. I won’t be that bitch trying to become Number One.”

“Then don’t. Let me help you. Talk to me about your anxieties. Talk to me about your fears. You promised to let me in and help me understand what’s going on inside your pretty little head. Let Adrienne and Summer in. We can do this together. The four of us are a team now.”

Dawn shook her head. “I can’t be part of the team anymore. Not like that. They can both be your official girlfriends. Not me.”

“Because of your fear.”

“I can’t take the pressure. I WANT to be your wife, but I can’t. I just…” Dawn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She shook her head sadly, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m not strong enough.”

“You don’t have to be. Let me help you.”

Dawn shook her head again. “Perfect Dawn wants to believe she’s strong enough for anything. Perfect Dawn wants to believe that if she just fights harder, buckles down more, she can be better through sheer force of will. But I’m not Perfect Dawn, and part of accepting my imperfections is accepting that perfection itself is unattainable. Setting standards that are too high for any human being to achieve isn’t healthy and will only lead to more disappointment and doubt. This is all in my head, you see. I’ve created a cardboard cutout of what it means to be ‘Ben’s Wife’ and for some gawdfuckingdamn reason I CANNOT stop trying to make myself conform to that cutout down to the fucking millimeter! I tell myself that I’m not actually your wife, just your ‘wife in spirit’, and so that makes it good enough that I’m not a perfect fit. I tell myself you never asked me for perfection and would be perfectly happy with ‘good enough’. But nothing’s ever good enough for me. Even ‘Pretty Fucking Good Dawn’ isn’t satisfied with ‘Pretty Fucking Good’.”

I sighed. “I think you should talk to Iris, or even if not Iris, at least some other therapist.”

“I think you’re right.” Dawn sighed. “Perfect Dawn wants to believe she can figure this out on her own. Perfect Dawn is a Perfectly Stupid Fucking Moron.”

“You’re not supposed to say those words anymore.”

“I didn’t call you an SFM.”

“And you think I want you calling yourself an SFM either?” I took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. The fact that we’re back to the name-calling bit just proves that I haven’t done enough to support you lately.”

Dawn snorted. “It’s not your fault.”

“Sure it is. It’s my job to help you, and all I’ve managed to do lately is take a hands-off approach.”

“You always try to shoulder more of the blame than you deserve, but this one isn’t on you. I asked you to take a hands-off approach and let me handle my own shit. I asked you to trust me, to have faith in me.”

I shook my head. “I left you alone.”

“Because I asked you to leave me alone. Just like I’m asking you to leave me alone now.”

That pulled my head back. “Wait, what?”

“You had the right idea, about us taking a break from each other. Not a break up, to be clear, but… I mean…” Her voice trailed off as she sighed. “Like until the end of my Apple internship. The fall semester starts August 20th. I think… I think until then I should move in with my parents and just stay there.”

“Wait-wait-wait. Hold on a sec--”

“It’s less than two months,” she said reasonably. “A month and a half. Summer’s in much better shape now, and she’s got you and Adrienne and everyone else with her. You were right that we needed some time apart to find our balance again, much like you and Eden took a break from each other. It doesn’t mean we don’t love each other. It doesn’t mean you don’t still mean the world to me. It doesn’t mean I have ANY interest in being with another man. But I need some time apart from you to wrap my head around the idea that while we’ll always be best friends, we really aren’t ever getting married.”

“Dawn, I can’t just sit back and--”

“I still think about marrying you fifteen times a day. It’s painful. The only times I manage to bring that down to like… three times a day… have been days when I’m busy at work during the weekdays and don’t see you.”

“You’re running away again.”

“I’m giving us space. I’m giving myself space. This isn’t like when I took a sabbatical from school and became a ranch hand for a year.”

“This is exactly like you taking a year off to become a ranch hand.”

“And even if it is, as painful as it was while we were apart, didn’t that turn out to be the best thing for our relationship? We missed each other. We reset. In the end, we built our relationship back to the best place it ever was: as best friends. C’mon, you were the one saying we were better off last year and that ever since then, our relationship has gone to shit.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead.

By now, Dawn’s tears had dried up. She now looked at me with an expression of resolve, and after taking a deep breath, she slipped off my lap and stood up.

“This isn’t a break up, it’s just ‘taking a break’. It was your idea in the first place,” she continued, folding her arms across her chest and doing her best to look reassuring. “The nice thing about having almost twenty-five years of history behind us is that a month and a half won’t be a really big deal. We can handle it. You want me to be unafraid? I have faith that we’ll find our balance again. I have faith that we’ll still be together again. You know I’m right. You came to this decision on your own and would’ve gone through with it on Thursday had I not insisted that I wouldn’t let you break up with me. This IS what we need.”

I sighed and sagged back against the bench. Nodding slowly, I muttered, “I know it is.”

“I’ll love you for all eternity. ‘Til death do us part.”

I snorted. “’Til an Apple internship do us part.”

“Only for a little while, and only in physical distance. Not in my heart. Never in my heart. I love you… AND I’m obligated to you. It can be both, because we’ll always be family. If anything serious comes up, you know I’ll drop everything in a heartbeat to rush back to you.”

“And vice versa.”

Dawn smiled, and then she circled around the bench to move behind me. I already knew what she was going to do next, and felt a tingle of nostalgic reassurance.

From behind, she wrapped her arms around me in a warm hug. Then, she gently kissed the back of my neck. “I do love you, my Ben. I’ll always love you. Never doubt that.”

“I don’t,” I replied softly, without looking back.

And then she was gone.

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