Page 17 of Guilty as Sin

The question is loaded with implication. I don't rush to answer, letting the weight of it settle around us. The taxi turns down a narrow cobblestone street, slowing as it approaches our destination.

"We believe some connections transcend conventional boundaries," Rolf says finally, his voice low and measured.

"And some people are worth exploring those boundaries for," I finish.

The taxi stops, and I pay the driver while Rolf helps Zoe out. The restaurant stands before us, its warm golden light spilling onto the sidewalk. Through the window, I can see rustic wooden tables, candles flickering on each surface.

Inside, the restaurant embraces us with warmth and the rich aroma of traditional French cuisine. The maître d' greets me by name, leading us to a secluded corner table partially hidden by a stone archway. It's intimate without feeling confining, private enough for what I anticipate will be unconventional conversation.

When we're seated, Zoe between us as she's been all day, I notice how naturally we've fallen into this formation. Like we're already a unit, already connected in ways that defy explanation.

"This is cozy,” she says, looking around at the exposed wooden beams and stone walls. Her fingers trace the edge of the linen tablecloth, and I find myself mesmerized by the simple movement.

Rolf orders wine without consulting the list—a rich Bordeaux I know he's selected with care. When it arrives, we raise our glasses in a silent toast, eyes meeting over the rims of crystal.

"To unexpected journeys," I offer.

"And to fellow travelers worth following," Rolf adds.

Zoe takes a sip, her eyes never leaving ours. “To breaking patterns,” she says. The wine has left a slight stain on her lower lip, and I resist the urge to reach across and brush my thumb across it.

As we order and begin to eat, the conversation flows with an ease that belies the undercurrent of tension between us. We discuss art and business, travel and philosophy. But beneatheach topic lies the real conversation—the one about the three of us and what we might become together.

"Most people wouldn't understand this," Zoe says suddenly, setting down her fork. "Whatever is developing between us."

"Do you care what most people think?" Rolf asks, his directness tempered by genuine curiosity.

She considers this, twirling her wine glass slowly between her fingers. "I used to, but now I'm not so sure."

"We've spent years conforming to expectations," I tell her. "Building businesses, creating the image of success. But at some point, you have to ask yourself what success really means."

"And what does it mean to you?" Her question is pointed, deliberate.

I meet Rolf's eyes briefly before answering. "Finding people who see you completely and want you anyway. Creating a life that feels authentic, even if it doesn't fit into neat categories."

"Both of you?" she asks, the question hanging in the air between us.

"Yes," Rolf says simply. "We've always shared a vision. This is no different."

I watch her process this, admiring the thoughtful way she considers her options. I've never been the patient type, but with her, I find myself willing to wait. Her answer matters too much to rush.

"It's unusual," she says finally, her voice thoughtful rather than judgmental. "But I can't deny I'm drawn to both of you in different ways." She looks down at her plate, then back up with renewed confidence. “But are you suggesting a polyamorous relationship? Would that include others?”

Rolf's posture relaxes slightly—a change only I would notice. "We wouldn't suggest this lightly, Zoe. And no, it would not include any others of either sex. It would be the three of us only.”

"I believe you," she says, and the simple statement carries weight. She takes another sip of wine, her throat moving as she swallows. "So, what happens now?"

"Now?" I lean forward, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume again. "Now we finish this excellent meal. We continue getting to know each other. No pressure, no expectations beyond what feels right."

"And later?" Her question is bold, her eyes holding mine with an intensity that sends heat through my body.

"Later is up to you," Rolf says, “We're offering possibilities, not demands."

"I've never done anything like this," she admits after the waiter withdraws. “And I hadn’t considered something permanent.”

“It may not be new to us, but we’ve never shared anyone we truly cared about," I tell her honestly. "This isn't casual for us, Zoe."

Her eyes widen slightly at the implication. "You barely know me."

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