I met them in the hotel bar.  As planned they were sitting in the back, watching the door. My Manhattan, rye whiskey with two cherries, sat ready and waiting on the small table. They drank red.

I smiled as I approached them, keeping my eyes on the woman. He was watching her, too, assessing her reaction to me. She looked friendly, nervous, but certainly glad to see me. I think he was pleased as well.

They rose as I approached. She and I hugged, and he shook my hand, warmly and with a big smile. We sat down and she whispered that her hands were shaking. I reached out and rested one of my hands on hers and smiled. "I'm so glad to finally meet you," I said.

Over the previous six weeks the three of us had exchanged emails. Our connection began slowly, tentatively, even though we all knew the premise for our correspondence.  We were careful, respectful of each other, me especially of their couple status, and them of me because, well, because they were good people.

I posted my ad on a Friday night and they responded on Sunday. By then I had already culled through several respondents who didn't meet the basic qualifiers in my ad: must be a loving couple, the female partner must want this, I wouldn't be a part of coercion or deceit, and each of us had the option to change our mind at anytime.

Many single men responded. Maybe I could bring a friend for them? What if they just brought along a male friend and he watched me with his friend? What if I met him (a single man) and we went to a bar and picked up an anonymous woman?  Some married men responded. Some thought their wives might like it, but perhaps we could try sex together first? Or maybe I could seduce their wife and then be 'caught' by him? Maybe their wives would respond to a naked picture of me?

Many heartbroken and lonely men responded. I ached for them, because I know that life well. I live that life. I sent a few of them ideas about how to talk to their wives, their girlfriends, how to talk about their desires, even how to meet a girlfriend. Ultimately though, this was not about them, it was about what I was looking to do.

The couple I chose were now sitting across from me in the bar. My bare knees were touching hers. She looked me in the eye as we talked. His eyes went from her, to me, back to her. He was relaxed and low-key, pressure not his game. Our in-person meeting was enjoyable, as had  been our online communication. We liked each other. I enjoyed seeing them happy together, and they liked making me smile. 

Since Thanksgiving weekend we had written almost daily and it was now late December, after Christmas. Sometimes they wrote to me together in one message, sometimes separately. I always wrote to both of them, never individually. They read my messages aloud to each other and nothing I sent was kept a secret between them. As we got to know each other, I watched closely for any breaks, any fissures in their relationship that our contact may have induced. I never sensed any. Their words about each other were always generous and adoring, and most importantly for this circumstance, they respected each other's sexual desires.

After a drink and talking quietly about work, our nervousness, the hotel, their weekend plans in my city, we walked to the elevator to go to their room. She leaned into him as we walked and they kissed and whispered to each other. I walked a little bit behind them, watching. They looked happy, excited, and in love.

In the elevator, they kissed. I watched. That was the plan.