An Open World: Off the Clock

The house was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the soft click of Bailey’s nails on the hardwood as our golden retriever came to greet me, tail thumping like I’d been gone a year instead of just going to the bathroom.

I crouched down, buried my face in his warm fur, and tried to steady the self inflicting spiral of sadness in my chest with a glass of dry white wine.

Jake’s text was still open on my phone.

Jake: Hey, i'm staying over at the hotel tonight. They have rooms so people dont drink drive. Alice is here, hope thats okay. Love you x

I’d read it at 11:17 p.m. while staring at the ceiling in our bedroom. I’d typed back:

Sophie: Okay. Have fun. Come home tomorrow. We’ll talk. Love you.

and then thrown the phone across the bed like it was overheating.

Bailey nudged my hand, demanding pets. I gave them, but my mind was picturing Jake’s hands on Alice’s golden skin and the sounds she made. I imagined their bodies pressed together, in a silhouette, painted by moonlight. I never trusted her. There was a fakeness to her that wasn't lost on me.

I wasn’t angry though. Not exactly. I’d told him he could. I’d even tried to sound generous about it. But Alice? The woman who’d been circling him for years. He would play it off like they were friends but I knew that as soon as they could, in a hypothetical world, they would.

Ugh.

My stomach twisted in that familiar, nauseating way. Then why did it turn me on? Was this my form of sado masichism? Is that all this was? I hated myself for how much it turned me on. I hated that I’d touched myself to the thought of him choking her. What was happening to me?

I needed help before this tore me apart. Tore us apart

The next evening, after Jake had come home looking equal parts guilty and glowing, I waited until we were on the sofa, Bailey stretched across both our laps.

“I think we should see someone,” I said quietly.

Jake’s hand stilled on my thigh. “Like, sexually? Together?” He looked as excited as he did perplexed.

“A sex counselor, Jake. Or a therapist. Whatever they’re called. Someone who deals with this stuff. Open relationships, non-monogamy, the whole… mess.”

I looked at him and kept my eyes locked onto his. “Look, I never vetoed Alice. I said you could. But I’m not okay. Not really. And I don’t want to fake it until it breaks us, you know?”

He nodded, slow. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do that.” His words hollow but supportive.

In two weeks we had an appointment. Dr. Hannah Bennett was exactly what I needed. A strong thirty-four-year-old, around 5'3", and dressed immaculately. She had these calm brown eyes that never judged, never flickered with surprise no matter what we laid on her table.

She was composed like she’d already heard every version of this story and still believed we could still improve.

Our first session was brutal. I cried. Jake held my hand and looked guilty.

I told her how much I loved the high of it. The texts, the intimacy, the sex, the way Jake came home smelling like someone else and still fucked me like I was the only one who mattered.

But I also told her how the thought of Alice made my chest feel too small. How I didn’t trust her. How I didn’t want to control who he did and didn’t sleep with but also that I felt invisible when he was at work because of her. How I was starting to wonder if I could keep doing this without losing the version of us we both wanted.

Hannah listened. She asked gentle questions. She gave us structure. She gave us rules we could actually live with.

She mediated when Jake got defensive and when I got quiet and sharp. For four months we saw her every two weeks, and it helped. The fights got smaller. The sex got hotter because we were actually talking. I even started feeling steadier about Alice.

Then, around month five, something shifted inside me.

I started waking up with this cold, heavy dread. The open-relationship high I’d chased since the conference felt… cheap. Like I was performing desire instead of feeling it. Every time Jake’s phone lit up with her name, my stomach dropped. I stopped asking for details. I started making excuses to stay home when he went out. I was getting cold feet, but at the same time I hated myself for it because I felt equally complicit.

In our last session Hannah noticed. She leaned forward, voice steady and kind.

“Sophie, it’s okay if this isn’t the shape your relationship needs anymore. Non-monogamy isn’t a finish line. It’s a tool. If it’s no longer serving you, we can talk about closing it again, and that is always an option.”

Jake looked at me across the room like I’d just punched him. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I just nodded.

Six months after our final session with Hannah, things had settled. As far as I was aware, Jake had joined me in ethically closing our relationship for the sake of my mental health. He tried not to show me his resentment but I could sense it. It was there.

I tried to creare moments to my self a lot more, which varied from watching porn in bed to getting out the house.

It just so happened that I was in the park with Bailey on a Saturday morning. The air was still crisp and the grass wet from overnight rain. Bailey was doing his usual chaotic zoomies when another golden retriever came barreling toward him. The same goofy grin, same fluffy tail.

“Bailey, no—oh my god, sorry—” I started, then froze.

Hannah Bennett stood ten feet away in leggings and an oversized hoodie, hair in a messy bun, holding a bright blue leash and looking as surprised as I felt.

“Sophie?”

“Dr. Bennett – Hannah?”

We both laughed at the same time, awkward and genuine.

Bailey and her dog (Luna, apparently) were already wrestling like long-lost siblings. We let them. Then Hannah smiled and tilted her head.

“Coffee? There’s a place just past the duck pond. My treat. No couch, no notes. Just… two people whose dogs like each other. Off the clock, I promise”

There was a part of me that felt reluctant, as if I was doing something wrong. I swallowed my irrationality and walked along side her.

We sat outside the little café with our lattes, dogs curled under the table. At first it was small talk. How Bailey had eaten an entire bag of treats last week, how Luna was terrified of the vacuum. Then it turned real.

I told her how I felt in a way I couldn't express to anyone. Not to Jake, and definitely not to my friends or family. It was like she was exactly the right person, at exactly the right time.

I told her that I loved Jake more than anything but I was scared we’d broken something we couldn’t fix. I told her I felt guilty because I secretly craved the ecstasy of the sex. I told her I felt torn.

Hannah listened the same way she had in sessions. She was present, professional, no bias. But this time there was no fifty-minute timer, no laptop.

She sipped her coffee and said quietly, “You’re allowed to change your mind, Sophie. You’re allowed to want the high again without it being a failure. Sometimes the fear is just data. Sometimes it’s protection. The important part is knowing which one it is.”

She didn’t push. She didn’t share her own life. She just… saw me. And for the first time in months, the knot in my chest loosened.

By the time our cups were empty we were laughing about how terrible we both were at small talk with strangers and how much better we were when the stakes were high.

We were caffeinated but something clicked between us, and I sincerely enjoyed her company in a non-professional setting — and seemingly, she was equally enthused.

She opened up about how she practices polyamory, and even dared to ask me if I was exclusively heterosexual. I was taken aback by her questioning, like a teacher crossing the line of professionalism.

“I mean, is anyone 100% straight?” I responded with a soft smile and eyes that failed to hide the feelings stirring inside of me.

The question hung between us like the last biscuit on a plate. Hannah’s calm brown eyes sharpened with interest, the corner of her mouth curving into a slow, knowing smile that felt anything but professional. She set her latte down, fingers lingering on the warm ceramic.

“No,” she said softly, voice lower now, “I don’t think you are.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I didn’t look away. I knew what she was doing was wrong, I could feel it. I wondered why as I nervously played with the dired foam on the rim of my glass. I caught her eyes watching my fingers.

“Have you considered reopening your relationship since we last spoke?” She asked, sincerity mixed with something darker, more provocative.

“No,” I admitted, my eyes too nervous to hold her gaze, “but … if that right opportunity came up, then– maybe”

My words were flirtatious and full of promise. They escaped my mouth and the air between us thickened. Under the table, her sneaker brushed mine deliberately, then stayed there, the gentle pressure sending a low pulse straight between my legs. I swallowed, suddenly aware of how slick I already felt.

“but, you know me and Jake don't do that anymore.”

Hannah leaned in, elbows on the table, her messy bun slipping a little so a few dark curls framed her face.

“I do, nor is that my business to meddle. But do you want my professional opinion?” she said cooly, leaning back on the white metal chair.

“Please” I offered with a coy smile.

“I encourage all women to explore their bisexuality”

Her fingers opened up like a flower petal, and before I could even process the consequences, so did mine, and our tips intertwined with each other. Softly and playfully.

I felt something I hadn't felt in months. Maybe even years.

We let the dogs run a little longer, but the conversation had shifted into something electric and inevitable. Every laugh, every lingering glance, our fingers touching as we walked. By the time we stood to leave, my nipples were tight against my bra and I could feel my pulse between my thighs.

She walked me back to my car, Luna and Bailey trotting happily ahead. When we reached it, she turned to me, close enough that I was more than a client to her now. I didn’t want to be. I wanted something deeper.

“Listen, if you want to see where this goes, you already have my number, but talk to Jake first, okay?” She said, with the same sincerity and non-judgmental tone that took me back to her office all that time ago.

“Okay—” I smiled, voice soft.

She gestured for an open embrace, and I stepped into it. We held each other, maybe a beat longer than needed but not long enough for what either of us desired.

The drive home was a mess. I felt torn and it made me erupt in tears. I was the one who wanted to grind our open experiment to a halt, and now I wanted it again because I had a crush on our sex therapist? I felt like a cliche. Was it actually the dynamic I wanted, or did I just want her?

Either way, I got back to an empty house as Jake went for a jog. As soon as I realised I was alone, I ran straight to our room, grabbed my wand from my bedside table and spent two orgasms thinking about Hannah in deeply provocative ways.

Jake, to my surprise, returned at a deeply inconvenient time, lingering by the doorframe after making himself known, but encouraging me to carry on.

It wasn’t the same, so I told him to get undressed and close the door. But even that wasn’t the same. I was thinking about her whilst his tongue was inside me. He was rough, but I wanted something soft and gentle.

When he came, I felt relief, but not in the same way.

After he pulled out and we cleaned up, he laid his head on my stomach as I stroked his hair, both still sticky with sweat.

“I met Hannah today” I admitted begrudgingly, feeling closer to a confession than it realistically needed to be.

“Oh what? Like a session?” He asked, turning his head out of sheer surprise.

“No, silly. Just walking Bailey at the park,” I said, eager to soothe his concern.

“That’s wild! That must be like meeting a teacher at the supermarket,” he chuckled blissfully, but my heart felt like a bell that had just been rung.

“No, it was nice. We got coffee. She has a golden retriever too.”

“Aww, that’s nice. Free counseling session?”

I tapped him lightly on the head. “Not really, but it definitely got deeper than either of us intended.”

“And what was the outcome?” Jake asked out of curiosity, his heartbeat still rapid from coming deep inside me minutes prior.

“Well—” I swallowed, but my mouth had become so dry anticipating how these words would fall out of my mouth.

“Maybe… keeping the relationship open could work.”

Jake sat bolt upright, the easy smile vanishing. For a second he just stared at me, jaw tight. Then the frustration broke through.

“Jesus Christ, Sophie. Are you fucking serious right now?”

I blinked. “What?”

“You made me shut it all down. You said you couldn’t handle it. Work has been so awkward, with Alice and then Mia isn't texting me back. There was resentment that I repressed so we wouldn't fight. And now, after one random coffee with our old therapist, you want it open again? Goddammit, woman, make up your fucking mind.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp enough to cut. Bailey lifted his head from the floor, ears pricked.

I felt my own defensiveness rise. “It’s not that simple. I’m not flipping a switch. I’m trying to be honest about what I actually want instead of pretending I’m fine.”

“Yeah? And what you actually want is to reopen the exact thing that was tearing you apart six months ago?”

“I want space to figure out my sexuality. I want… more than just sex. Something deeper. And yes, Hannah might be part of that. I’m not going to lie to you about it.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Of course it’s the therapist. Perfect.”

We stared at each other. The silence stretched until it hurt.

Finally he dragged a hand down his face. “I love you. I do. But I’m not a fucking yo-yo, Sophie. I can’t keep yanking my heart around every time you change your mind about what you need.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to trust me while I figure it out — the same way I trusted you when you needed Alice.”

He looked away, jaw working. For a long moment I thought he might say no. Then his shoulders dropped.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “We’ll try it again. But if it starts destroying you like last time, we close it. Immediately. No debate.”

I nodded. Relief and guilt tangled in my chest.

It wasn’t even an hour later when I texted her.

Sophie: Hey you, it’s Sophie. Today was really unexpected but also really lovely. Me and Jake spoke about it and we are going to try to give an open relationship another shot. I’m grateful for our chat. Wanna go for a drink or something?

A couple of hours went by, where every time my phone buzzed my heart fluttered in anticipation, only to be disappointed — until finally it came.

Hannah: Wow, that is music to my ears. Friday night, maybe meet me after work? Let’s say 6pm?

I responded shamelessly and almost immediately.

Sophie: It’s a date x