Selena, on all fours, slowly guided her head to look over her shoulder at me. She was at ease on my bed, a bed she had fallen into many nights after we had been out dancing together. The year was 2010, a time before we were mothers, when we could stay up late and sleep in, continuing to lay in bed, discussing everything and everyone we had met the night before. But this day was different.
Stories of D bounced off my bedroom walls as I looked through the lens of my dad’s old camera, capturing racy images of Selena on my bed. This camera had seen many of my friends over the years, but never quite in this capacity. Selena wore nothing but a giant red ribbon wrapped around her waist, transforming her body into an exquisite gift, tied into a giant bow above her behind.
The photos were for her new lover, a man who lived over a thousand miles away.
The photoshoot celebrated her sensuality, and as I circled my bed, I noticed a side of Selena previously reserved only for her lovers.
Selena had met D only two weeks earlier on a beach holiday with another friend. D had seen her from across the room, and before long, he and his friend were sharing laughter with them both. From that moment, they spent every possible moment of their holiday together, immersed in a passion-filled romance.
Selena’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes were electric when she came over to my home earlier that afternoon. She was filled with new energy and life, radiating undeniable magnetism, a result of her immense infatuation with D. She was blooming.
‘This is all I’m wearing for the shoot!’ she said, holding up the red ribbon in delight. I had always loved this about her: her free spirit, her joy, her unapologetic belief to be all that she was and all that she wanted. Selena was one of those women who captivated any room she walked into, first with her striking beauty and stature, then with her wit and unique, disarming humour.
As I adjusted the lighting in my room, I devoured every detail Selena shared. With each click of my camera, I sank deeper into her stories, living vicariously through her and D’s sexcapades, almost feeling as though I was coming to understand him myself. He was sex-positive in a way neither of us had ever experienced. He was sexual and respectful and honoured her and her pleasure. He refused to judge himself for his desires, and in turn, his approach to his own sexual expression gave her permission to embody the same. Without saying the words, it was clear D was non-monogamous, simply by how he lived his life and spoke of his other lovers.
Having a man speak about his other lovers was new to Selena, but instead of feeling threatened, she felt grateful for his honesty. Stories of this made me uncomfortable, a discomfort born out of protection for my friend, who I believed deserved the sole attention from any man she was with. ‘They couldn’t be more incredible than you,’ I said in support, imagining how I would feel if I were her and heard about his other lovers. ‘I don’t know… they could be amazing, I will never know. It really wasn’t an issue, and besides—he lives so far away and is rarely in Canberra. I don’t think we are about to ride off into the sunset together. But I’m loving the sexy texts still, and I know he will love these photos of me.’
Laying on her stomach, supporting her upper body with her forearms as her slender legs wrapped around one another, she continued to tell me about him. “We did all these crazy things together, things I had never even considered.” She giggled as she adjusted the red bow on her lower back.
“Tell me more.”
As the weeks went on, I absorbed every word she told me about D and noticed that with every text he sent her, her ‘good girl’ persona was falling away. D would send her photos, which she would show me as we zoomed in and giggled in cafes. Before long, our entire group had an affectionate nickname for him: ‘Decadent D’ we would all proclaim whenever her phone beeped and we saw the smile spread across her face.
Selena and D never saw one another again.
As time moved along, their connection gradually faded, and three months later, she was dating the man who would become her husband.
Throughout the years, Selena and I would sometimes find ourselves talking about D, wondering what he was up to. He was one for the memory books—a highly sexual man whose innate understanding of affectionate dominance must surely still be impacting the lives of the women who came through his sexual orbit.
Ten years later, after a day with Selena and our babies, I returned home to find my husband, Liam, laying on the couch, smiling at his phone.
“Babe, I’ve been chatting to the nicest guy I met today on that open relationship website I was telling you about. He is super experienced with non-monogamy, has a lover, and she seems great too. They are in Sydney, but he said they would come to Canberra to meet us, as they know logistics are harder for us. I think you will really like him.
His name is D.”