Her Two Johns by Phyllis O Scott (PART THREE)

Debbie Does Dallas was still playing in a loop, the lowered volume seeping surround sounds of sex. John Cross smirked. Shay resisted watching porn with him. The few times he’d cajoled her into it, she didn’t like it, saying it turned her off not on. He should be jealous but he wasn’t. She was reposed like an angel, a wondrously sated angel, displayed naked on her back, one knee bent unveiling her ripeness. John Marshall lay stretched out on his stomach on the opposite side, knocked out, snoring slightly. My man, he thought.
          John Cross peeled off his clothes. When he was down to his bare skin, he leaned over Shay, kissed her mouth and penetrated her deep with his fingers. She came awake from her dreamy state languidly, squirming on his hand: “Oh, John…”

            Her eyes flickered open and widen in recognition and alarm.

            John Cross kissed her mouth roughly. “Wrong John, babe.”

            Easing over her body, replacing his fingers with his burgeoning manhood, he moved into her damp heat and shuddered to a stop.

            “John, please—”

            “I don’t want to hear it,” he said thickly.

            He regained focus and stirred inside her. “Fuck me, Shay,” he urged at her ear.

            “Not here.”

            “Yes, here.”

            “Please…John, let’s go to your suite.”

            “Let’s not.”

            Even though he wanted to humiliate her, what else other could she do even as she lay beside John Marshall? How angry John Cross must be at her betrayal! She couldn’t bear to have him hate her.  Neither could she blame him if he did.  She was all for him punishing her in this manner so they could move past it. Move on to what? The thought frightened her. And where would that leave John Marshall whom she had come to adore.  Oh, God, this was crazy!

            The quicker this was over, the quicker they were out of John Marshall’s bed

            Shay raised her hips to meet him.

            And it would be the first time and the last time she ever faked it.

            When he finished, he crashed to the other side of her, throwing a possessive arm tight around her waist. She couldn’t even escape the bed. She lie between them, and cried herself to sleep. It had been an exhausting night for her.

            What a distinctive, striking vision they made! One brown womanly body sandwiched between two virile pale ones. Color-blind love squared.

            John Marshall slept through the whole John-exchange.
            Which calls into question: when is a threesome not a threesome?

            When Shay woke next, she was alone, daylight was squeezing through the vertical blinds and Igor the bantam perched atop the gazebo was crowing a love song.  If only she felt that cheerful! A sheet covered her body, the edge tucked beneath her chin.  She lay there in uncertainty staring up, her arm across her forehead, wondering what last night meant besides her utter humiliation.

            She feared this day would come. She and John Marshall would be found out. She should have been better prepared to deal with it. She wasn’t.

            Now that John Cross knew of their betrayal, what would he do?

            What happened between the Johns while she slept in?
             Did they fight? Did they argue? Or...did they decide she wasn't worth it and exchanged high fives between them?

            She did not regret her time with John Marshall last night. He was fun, uninhibited; lusty and loving all at the same time.  He’d asked her once to think about why she could not resist him. She now knew the answer—she was in love with him. In love with John Marshall! 

            And John Cross—finding her in John Marshall’s bed! 

            He had to be devastated and upset with her so why tell her he loved her more than life itself before dropping off to sleep?

            And why did he stay in John Marshall’s bed afterward?

            As there were no answers falling from the ceiling, she stirred finally. Her body ached from all last night’s activities.  What she needed was to soak in a bath of Epsom Salts, her panacea. With a heavy sigh, Shay swept the soiled sheets from the bed as though she could sweep the whole affair back to some multiverse in time space continuum. She wondered how her doppelgangers were handling their own Johns-quandary. She hoped at least they were smarter.

            Time to rise and face the music.

            The mansion was eerily quiet and abandoned. 

            And stayed that way for several days. 

            John Marshall was scheduled for a Dallas meeting. He texted her tersely: “you okay?” She texted him back in kind: “I’m fine”.

            She called John Cross over and over but the calls went straight to his voice mail. Finally he returned her call. “What do you want, Shay?”

            “I want to talk to you. To explain.”  But that wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, John Cross refused to hear her out. His voice came over the phone line, chilly and indifferent:

            “What, Shay? You slept with John Marshall. What do you want from me?”           

            “Your understanding.”

            “Did he rape you…force you?”

            “No.”

            “You did what you wanted to do, Shay.”

            “I thought that’s what you wanted. You told me to—to help him.”

            “Gee, Shay, how many times did you help him?”

            “More than a few times…” she admitted ruefully.

            “Quite a few according to John. Did he lie? I want you to think about what you did, Shay. Don’t blame this on me.”

            “I’m so ashamed…and embarrassed…and sorry.”

            “Sorry? Because I caught you lying naked in my best friend’s bed? I don’t fault John for  not resisting you. He is who he is. Ruled by his lust. No woman is hands-off. Not even mine. And knowing him, I can imagine what all went down in his bed. Did you...enjoy being with him?”

            “John, I...I’m not going to lie. I did.”

            “More than being with me?”

            She groaned. “Nooo…not at all. You’re both…magnificent...lovers.” So true.

            “So you’re saying it takes two men to satisfy you?”
            “I’m not saying that at all.” God, why was he asking her these things?
             “Would you rather the three of us slept in the same bed? Would that make you happy? Because I want you to be happy, Shay.”
            “You’re saying these things because you’re angry and hurt. Please—”

            “Are you going to fuck him again?”

            What? Is this an interview? Did he have a checklist on a questionnaire?

            The question was quite unexpected; and her pause way too long.

            “Answer my question, Shay. Are you going to fuck John Marshall again?”

            “I get it! You’re pissed and you have every right to be.”

            “You’re in love him, aren’t you?” John Cross sighed resignedly.

            “Don’t do this. I love you!” she exclaimed. She had to convince him before he hung up on her.

            “Do you, Shay?”

            “Yes!  I wasn’t trying to hurt you or punish you. I was…I was lonely.”

            “Lonely?”

            “Inside myself. Please understand, John. I love you.”

            “You love me. Then that’s all that matters. Right, Shay? I’ve got to go.”  Then he cut her off before she could ask when he was coming home. She hadn’t seen him in several days and she didn’t know where he was or what he was doing.

            Evidently, neither did John Marshall.

            He told her so that next night when she ran out into the grand hall from the parlor where she had been curled up in a chair by the fire waiting for John Cross to come home.

            “Oh, it’s you.”

            “What am I? Chopped liver?” He followed her back into the warm, cozy room where she curled back into her ball.

            He pulled her up from the chair, sat down in it, drawing her into his lap. “Look, I’m sure he’s alright.”

            “You know where he is,” she accused.

            “No, Shay, I don’t.

            “I’m concerned,” she said.

            “Don’t be. He’s a big boy,” he soothed, easing his hand under her skirt, along her thigh.

            “No.”

            “Yes.”

            “We can’t be doing this. It’s wrong. I’m trying to smooth things over with John.”

            “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

            “It will be near impossible if he walks in and—”

            “Shay—he texted me.  He’s not returning tonight. He still has a bug up his ass. He said despite what he witnessed, he loves you…and that you two had…well…some intimacy issues and if you had to stray, he was glad it was me. There’s no damage to our friendship, Shay, if you’re concerned about that. He’ll come back to you. Because he knows if he doesn’t, I’ll be waiting in the wings to have you all to myself. Don’t sweat it.”

             Oh, but she did sweat it. It was her nature to sweat things that threatened her security.

            “In the meantime, let me take your mind off things…calm you…ease the tension…” He nuzzled her throat, slipping his fingers inside her panty leg. “Remember, we’ll always have Paris and Debbie Does Dallas. I just want to feel you, baby. Any harm in that?”

            And she wanted him to feel her. Really she did.  But her common sense kicked in. “But it might lead to something more.”

            “It won’t. I’m in control.”

            That made Shay suspicious. John Marshall was never in control where female tail was an option.

            “Where were you tonight?”

            His hand went still. “Does it matter?”

            She scrambled off his lap. “I am such a fool. You were just in the bed of another woman. You’re never satisfied.”

            “That’s where we are alike, Shay.”

            “No, we’re not. I have scruples.”

            “I could screw you and your scruples right now if I pursued it. Don’t fool yourself.”

            “I can’t believe I let myself be sucked in by you again! Just…ooh!  Don’t touch me!” Shay flounced away. He followed her at a leisurely pace to her room where she slammed the door.

            “Shay,” he called after her. “I just want us to be real with each other.”

            “The hell with you, John Marshall!”

            “What do you want from me, damn it!”

            “Nothing! Nothing at all! Leave me alone.”

            "How can I? I'm not Superman, Shay," he shouted through her door.

            The next evening, she and John Marshall were forced to work in tandem entertaining guests for dinner: two of the largest donors to the Foundation, the Capwells. Shay prepared the three-course meal, giving John Marshall the cold shoulder when he offered to assist. She was a good cook and often prepared the food for small gatherings. She put on her brightest smile and charming manners throughout the evening because it was her job but inside she seethed and John Marshall knew she seethed.  The second the Capwells said their farewells and was out the door, John Marshall grabbed Shay’s arm and yanked her to him. “What the hell do you want from me, Shay?” he demanded again.  “You know damn well how much I want you. It’s up to you: me, him, or both.”

            “Let go of me!”

            “That’s right. Let her go, John.”

            John Cross spoke like a specter from the end of the grand hall, startling the two. He must have entered through the rear where there were several doors of ingress. Shay instinctively moved closer to John Marshall who dropped his arm down around her waist, protectively.

            John Cross saw that, rolled his eyes, and came forward and took her hand, pulling her to follow him. “You and I need to talk.”  He nodded to John Marshall. “Excuse us, man.”

            The talk was lively:

            “John, listen, I want to tell you everything.”
            “Jesus, how deep do you want to twist the knife, Shay?”
            She recoiled. “I don’t. It's only fair that you understand what happened.”

            “Spare me the details. Haven’t you emasculated me enough?"
            “Forget it!” she turned on her heel to leave.
            He caught her back, his hand tightening about her wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”          
             “Back to John Marshall’s bed—if he’ll have me!”
            “If he’ll have you,” John Cross snarled. “You know damn well he’d step over my prostrate body to get to you.”

            “I know no such thing!” she flung back.

            “I can’t let you do this to me. To us. Do you realize how many women I could be screwing right now? I gave them all up for you, Shay. I’ve been faithful to you like I have no other woman.”  He paused and gave a small shake of his head, continuing with less temper: “But then I ask myself, how I can slam you for something I’m guilty of myself—bending to John Marshall’s will. I seldom say no to the guy. How do I expect you to?”
            “John—”
            “Let me finish. I love you, Shay. I always have. Nothing’s changed for me. I worry that things have changed for you. That you’re ready to trade me in for John Marshall now.  He’s been up front with me about wanting you. It would kill me to lose you to him. Am I? Am I losing you to John Marshall?”
            “No no no, it’s not like that. I was nothing more than a warm body to John Marshall; convenient, literally within arm’s reach whenever he got the urge.”

            “Don’t give me that. You mean more to him than that. Don’t let his philandering fool you.”

            “No. You don’t understand…it was just sex. I felt neglected by you and I turned to him because he is an extension of you. I suspected...I even thought you were having sex with other women. All the late nights you said you were working. I was suspicious because you weren't making love to me like I’m accustomed to. Most of the time it was slam bam thank you ma’am with no regard to my feelings. You taught me...made me... love sex, to crave it even, and then you withdrew it from me. And there he was, John Marshall, ready to step in, willing to give me what you weren’t giving me anymore. Sex isn't everything but I thought you had stopped loving me all together. I needed to feel loved. Sex with John Marshall was a close substitute.”

         John Cross let her finish her diatribe before he bellowed: “I don’t love you? You think I don’t love you, Shay!”
          He released her wrist and jerked his Delta Tau Sigma sweatshirt over his head, baring his marvelously chiseled chest...with a significant change. A raging sublime tattoo!
            “I was away having this done.”
            “It’s...me!”

            She was bewildered.  He hated tattoos and swore he’d never desecrate his body that way.
            “Of course, it’s you!”         

            “Oh, my,” she enthralled, extending her hand to gingerly touch the image. The likeness of her was genius. The Shay Lyn Forever colors were vibrant and fluid as he flexed his pecs.
            “You like it?”
            “I love it.” She exchanged her hand on his chest for her tongue—licking the nipple that protruded from the design, making him shudder. “Did it hurt much?"
            “Like hell. But you’re worth it, sweetheart. I love you, Shay.”
            “As I do you, my love.”  Shay dropped to the floor, dragging his sweat pants with her.
            “What are you doing?”
            “Something special for you in return.”
            “That’s not what I want.”
            “I’ll try not to bite,” she offered.
            “Tempting. Maybe later.”
            Shay couldn’t believe John Cross turned down what he’d been coaxing her to do for so long.
            “What do you want?”  If not the most erotic item on the menu?
            “To play doctor...”

           Her eyelashes fluttered. They had played doctor once before. “My word...does that mean a complete physical this time, Dr. Cross?”
          “Hmm. With a full body probe, my dear.  I took the Hippocratic Oath to be thorough,” he said, taking her hands, bringing her upright and leading her to his bed.

          When she was stretched out naked, and he was positioning her legs into imaginary stirrups, she teased: “But doctor, your instruments are so cold."
            “Ah, you’d be interested to know, madam, the only instrument I’ll be using this time is my very own tool.”
            “Does that mean, gasp, you’ll be taking my temperature with it?”
            “For accuracy, I’m afraid it’s unavoidable. Now relax…there might be some discomfort at first…”
            When playtime was over, they lay reversed in a slipshod transom knot, Shay Lyn outlining John Cross’ bodacious tattoo with her big toe, commenting: “You know you might be stuck with this ink forever.”
            John Cross took her toe in his mouth while he caressed the pad of his foot between her thighs. “That’s the objective, my sweet darling.”
            With that, things were back to some normalcy with the three. Her six-month sex rampage with John Marshall was not spoken of, if no way forgotten.

            For three weeks, other than Foundation business, John Marshall kept his distance, knowing that Shay had happily returned with full privileges in John Cross’ bed.

            That is, until John Cross fell ill and made his grand pronouncement.

And then there were three

John Cross “catching flu” was the tactic that finally fulfilled the Johns’ diktat.

            He announced over the intercom that it was urgent that he meet with them in the Library. The two were in John Marshall’s office working on ideas for the upcoming May Day Extravaganza. They set aside their task.

            Shay knew John Cross wasn’t feeling well the past few days and had urged him to see his doctor, but was alarmed to see an actual hospital mask over his mouth!

            “Please don’t tell us you’re dying.”

             “Gee, Shay, don’t sic the buzzards to pick my bones just yet!  I’ve been diagnosed with a virulent strain of the flu. I have meds and I will recover but it’s absolutely essential that I have bed rest and not contaminate you two. So I am going to quarantine myself for the duration. Alright?  I’ll keep in touch by text and phone. I will need you two to fetch me food and supplies.” He cleared his throat. “I have a special request. One I’m sure you’ll honor without question.”

            They waited for him to continue.  “Shay, be with John.”

            His meaning was crystal clear.

            So here it was—her punishment. He was done with her and turning her out. “Excuse me, John, but I do have a question. What the hell?”    

            “I’m fine with it.”

            “How can you be fine with it? I’d rather you would not be fine with it.”

            She was wrong to deceive him and with his best friend no less; but to have him sanction it in this way was offensive. Perverse. Okay, she was being hypocritical—but still. He should be angry, wounded even—not hand her over to his rival!

             “I’m not blind, Shay. I see the way you two look at each other. So here’s the chance to tamp down your attraction or feed it.”

            “How open-minded and magnanimous you are, John! But I'm confused. You were outraged when you caught us together.”
             "I wasn't outraged, Shay. I was stung and disappointed in the two people I love most in the world. Look, sweetheart, I’m only looking out for you. I realize you have needs and –”

            “You’re looking out for John Marshall!” Shay looked from one John to the other. “I see what’s going on. I am not a fool. I won’t be handed off like a relay baton!”

            Okay. That did not make sense even to her ears. Had she not been guilty of passing her own self between them?

           John Marshall was thinking the same thing as he admonished her: "Hush, Shay. If the man says he’s fine with it, we should go with it.”

            She crossed her arms over her chest, defiant. “What if I say nothing-doing?”

            Silence. The Johns exchanged looks.

            She had more questions: “So afterwards, when you’re well, and I’m back in your bed, do John Marshall and I return to our neutral corners…just like that?”

            “Fair question,” John Marshall assented, arching a brow at John Cross. Ball in your court, pal.

            “Answer it, John," Shay insisted. "Whatever game you’re playing I don’t want to be a pawn in it!”

            “I want you back; that goes with saying.”

            “What if I don’t come back?”

            “You love me. You’ll come back. I’m not worried about that. If I'm worried about anything, it's keeping you satisfied."

             "I'll find a way to satisfy myself."

             John Marshall moved to where Shay stood, tipped her head back and brushed his lips across hers, back and forth, speaking to her with his eyes: remember what it was like between us.

            “Why go to all that trouble when I'm at your service?" said John Marshall. To John Cross,:  he interjected, "Shay has a point, John. You’re taking a big risk. What if the two of us fall in love?”

            Shay gasped at the notion; that John Marshall would bring up that word among them.

            “Shay’s very loveable. That wouldn’t surprise me at all. But she’s mine. My soul mate. And I fight for what is mine. You both would do well to remember that fact.”

            “Oh yeah? You’re in a curious position to mete out threats, John,” John Marshall challenged.

             Was it her imagination or were the men sharing some private inside joke; and was John Cross grinning behind his mask? There was certainly a glint of something in his eyes!

            “Let’s make the most of our time together, Shay,” John Marshall suggested when they were alone.  It turns out they had a month. “It was good between us before.  Let’s make that magic again."  
              And they did, growing emotionally and physically closer in the process.

            “You know," Shay shared. "You always make complete love to me; I never reciprocate.”

            “Really? I haven’t noticed anything lacking on your part.”

            “I want to suck your nipples. They are so prominent for a man.”

            “My nipples, Shay…and anything else you’d like to slob down.”

            “I’m…I’m not good at that.”

            “Says John, right?  He lacks the patience to guide you through it. I’m a whole other animal…”

             That he was.

             Even easing her into swallowing.

             After gagging a few times, she got the hang of it.

             Moving on.





             Yes, they made love at every turn, in his bed, plus christening ten other beds in the mansion; giving reciprocal massages; discussing a myriad of subjects and arguing over presidential politics; laughing a lot, and cuddling—a new activity for John Marshall.

            But there was also another side to their relationship. She learned he loved poetry. And wanting to show Shay his romantic side, he read Keats and Shelley to her; even penned her a short romantic poem, letting her know while peering over his reading glasses: “Not trying to compete with John Cross’ kick-ass tattoo, you understand.”

            They were like kids in a candy shop. They carried their new found sexual freedom outside into the world at large. The theatre. The ballet. Clubbing. Dinner and dancing, winning 2^nd place in a Rhumba contest to the History of Love performed by a live Latin Jazz Combo. They proudly displayed the trophy on the mantel above the fireplace in the library.      

            Then one night, he groaned, “I love you, Shay!” when he climaxed.

            “John?” An hour had passed as she napped in his arms, her body sated, but her heart still raced from his verbal declaration. Could she take him seriously considering the timing? Maybe the sex was just extra mind-mushing.

             He kissed the top of her head. “Yes, Shay, I meant it. I love you.”

            “I don’t think this whole thing was a good idea. Look what’s happened.”

            “Maybe not. But here we are.”

“Sex is one thing; but love takes us into deeper waters. It forces us to act on it. What do you think?”

“You do love me, don’t you, Shay?”

             She didn’t hesitate. “I love you with a desperation beyond this Earth. I had these feelings all along but I was frightened of you.”

            “You were frightened of this. And how it would affect your relationship with John Cross.”

            “I do love him. So where do we go from here?”

            “Where do you want us to go?”

            “I don’t want to give up what we have. I want to expand on it. I wish I could have you both. How wonderful that would be!”

            “That can be arranged,” he said with conviction.

             She stared at him. “I was joking.”

            “I wasn’t.”

            “He’d never go for it. Though he might settle for looking the other way.”

            “He’ll have no choice. He took a risk giving us this freedom; albeit, temporarily. Baby, it would be insane to believe that we can go back to status quo. He can’t play with our lives. Too much has happened between us. Just tell John Cross what you want.”

           
              Month followed month. And now it was July.

              They were busy planning a Foundation 4^th of July picnic when John Cross appeared in John Marshall’s office looking well.

            “Hmm. Busy busy busy, I see.”          

            “John! What did the doctor say?”

             He spread his arms expansively. “Clean bill of health. I’m no longer contagious.”

            “That’s wonderful!” She was tired of just peaking at him through his door, leaving supplies and scampering away.

            He bent over her chair and she leaned her head backward for his kiss.

            “I need to talk to you, Shay.”

            She read between the lines. Talking was the last thing they were going to do after thirty whole days and nights apart.

            Shay looked toward John Marshall and that seemed to make John Cross angry.

            “I’m your man, you don’t need his permission.”

            Shay stood. “That’s not it. He’s my boss. I’m on the clock until he says otherwise.”

            John Marshall came to her rescue: “That’s okay. You’re free to take the rest of the afternoon off, Shay. John, man, you look good. Glad you’re back on your feet again.”

            Just tell John Cross what you want.

            For the next twenty-four hours, he would not permit her to talk, only to make love with him until she was too spent to do anything but rest when he permitted it.

            He hugged her to him. “I’m happy to see John Marshall left something for me.”

            “That’s because he expects me to be with him again; so he wasn’t greedy.”

            “What’s that again?”
             "Stop it, John. You can't seriously expect us to quit from each other cold turkey."
             "That's exactly what I expect."

            “Yes, that's a heavy sigh I gave. John and I were thinking more along the lines of a weaning off."
             "You and John, huh? Well, I don't like that idea. Might take too long or never. So, no, Shay."
             "Then we definitely have to talk. ”

            “Talk? Not now. When eating you is so much better.” He slid down to the confluence of her thighs, thumbed aside her labia, and set up a no-let-up tirade of licking, sucking, and nibbling.
             Oh, yeah, so much better.

            “Shay, baby, I could stay down here all day and all night.” But he had to come up for air sometime. Air to talk.

            They went for a walk in the gardens later, to stretch their cramped muscles, and give his tongue a rest, holding hands under a three quarter moon.

            “John, about John Marshall and me…”

            “Whatever you're about to say, I saw you first. Remember that.”

            “You can’t expect things to be the way they were.”

            “You mean the two of you sneaking behind my back? You’re right.”

            “No. I want an open relationship for the three of us; upfront with everything.”

            “I thought by now you would have worked him out of your system and vice versa.”

            “Just the opposite happened.”

            “The possibility of that was always there. I suppose I gambled lost.”

            “No one has to lose. We can the three of us be together.”

            “So…time share…like a vacation condo or something?”

            “Equal time with both of you. It’s what I want.”

            “How did it come to this? Damn it, Shay. It was a deferment not an acquisition.”

            “And I’m not property to be negotiated!”

            “What the hell, Shay? I plan to marry you one day.”

            “Then I have to be honest and tell you, I love John Marshall. And he loves me back.”

             John Cross grunted. “Really.”

            “Really.”

              He let that sink in, trying not to appear too smug. Right on schedule. “Still, where does that leave me? Outside looking in?” he equivocated.

            “No! Of course not! I love you both. Do you understand? I know it’s crazy. But there it is. It’s not about sex anymore. It’s about love.”

            He stopped in his tracks, ran both his hands through his lovely blond hair that had grown over his ears, giving him a rakish look. It was always about love even though she didn’t know it.

            “Let me think about it.”

            “There’s nothing to think about, John.”

            “Hell, I don’t know why I’m fighting this thing. Do you? I’m not losing anything, right?”

            “Not a thing. I’m still yours; only I’ll be his too, equally. I love you both. You both love me. You guys love each other like brothers. We will commit our selves to making it work. I have no doubts, John. Okay?" 

            He placed his hands on her shoulders, bent his head and they kissed on it. “It’s what you want, Shay, so…that’s what I want too. I guess, given the circumstances and how you and John feel about each other, I’m grateful I’m still a part of the equation."
             "You were never not part of the equation."
             "Still, Karma is indeed a bitch.”

             “Why do you say that?”

            “There’s a reason I want you to keep in mind that I saw you first.”

            “I'm not going to like this, am I?”
             He dropped his hands away from her. "Depends."
             "On what?" Her exasperation with him was showing.

            “I might have laid eyes on you first but John Marshall wanted you first.”

            Her brows came together in confusion. “Wanted me first? How is that possible?”

            “In the beginning when you first came to work for my parents, when I first met you, I showed him some photos of you with my mom. He freaked out. He just had to meet you! He begged me for an introduction but I stalled him. I made excuses not to bring him to the house. His wanting you so badly opened my eyes to an opportunity—I could have you for myself! I cocked-blocked him. I told him you weren’t into white guys; that I’d tried with you myself and got shot down. He bought my lies and backed off. But I could tell he was sorely disappointed.”

            “He's never said anything.”

            “He's never let me forget it.”

            “I won't say anything if you don't want me to."
             "It's up to you, Shay."
. We’re all together now so it doesn't matter. But thanks for telling me."

            It had been a long time coming; but now—privately, behind closed doors, the Johns could at last celebrate their victory.  They whooped and pumped their fists and drank champagne and congratulated themselves.  It was completely and totally her decision. This was much better than their original plan to “force” her into something as farfetched as a three-way polyandrous relationship.

            “So, how does this work? What are the rules?” Shay asked John Marshall.

“We do what comes naturally. There are no rules.”

“I mean… do we flip coins…”

“Nobody’s flipping any damn coins. Or drawing straws. No rotating schedule. The sex will take care of its self, depending on our needs.”

“I didn’t know I had needs until I came to live with you two. Now I seem to want sex a lot. I think I’ve turned into an addict.”

John laughed, giving her a quick smooch. “No such thing. You have a healthy sexual appetite that John and I through our own sexual needs have exploited. In a sense, we created you. And if I may be crude, between the two of us horny guys, you’ll never want for dick.”

She thought on that. “I don’t know whether it’s proper to ask….”

“Ask anything you want, sweetheart.”

“I mean we never talked about it…but…when John found us in your bed…he took me …with you asleep right there. Did he tell you that?"

It was all a part of the Johns’ grand design; not to humiliate her but to manage her. To keep her subjugated.  John Marshall answered: “Yeah, he told me. He was a bit upset and was on a power trip.”

“Well…will we…I mean will the two of you—” she stopped, searching for the right way to phrase it.

 “Make love to you at the same time? Don’t be shy to ask, sweetheart. The simple answer is: it’s your call. John and I won’t have a problem with it.”

“Have you ever…the two of you…with the same woman…?”

“No, Shay. It would be a learning experience for the three of us.”

“That surprises me. I thought you two were pretty randy in college.”

“We had our fun. But we missed the boat on that one.”
             It was a Sunday morning and she was lying in his arms, her head on his chest, her fingers laced with his, feeling ultra-content.

“Just say the word, and John and I will be on you like white on…what? Rye? Wheat?”  John Marshall kissed Shay’s fingertips. “Look at that,” he said, turning their clasped hands this way and that. “How beautiful our skins are together, brown and ivory. I think I’ll have a mirror installed in the ceiling so we can watch the contrast of our skins slide together as we make love.”     
“We would make a beautiful baby.”

            “John and I were just saying the same thing.”

            “You’ve talked about it?”

            “Does that surprise you? This is not exclusively physical, Shay. We want to build a family with you. I hope you know that. And we don’t care whether the biological father is him or me. Of course, when you get pregnant, one of us will marry you.”

            “Which one of you?”

            “I don’t know. We might well have to draw straws on that one.”

            “At some point there would have to be paternal testing. It will matter to the child who his biological father is. It’s his birthright,” she suggested.

            “So…when she’s eighteen…we’ll do the test. We’ll all find out together. Right now, all I want to do is make a baby with you, Shay.”

            “That’s the most romantic thing you could ever say to me. Only one other thing would make me deliriously happy.”

            “I’m listening.”

            “You stop sleeping with other women.”

            “If you’d care to notice, keeping you lubed and oiled has been a full time undertaking. I haven’t had the luxury of time for extracurricular sex. Baby, you sap me,” he joked, arranging her over his pelvis and reconnecting their bodies. Shay mewed as she always did when he entered her, so maddeningly gradual and frictional, she could come on the spot!

            “No! Stop! I’m not ready!” she squealed.

            He halted mid-way and she leaned forward, pushing a nipple past his lips, and he came up on his elbows to latch on like a sump pump. Oh yeah, that. “Now I’m ready.”

            “Tease.”

            She hadn’t been on top since Debbie Does Dallas.

            “I understand that the woman on top is an excellent baby-making position,” remarked John Marshall, toggling between nipples as they ballooned in his mouth.

The Johns were unapologetically lusty and they were triumphant in creating a partner of equal zeal in Shay Lyn. And if Janae's prediction that the Johns would turn her into their 'homegrown slut' then so be it. She was happier than she'd ever been.
Their three hearts were destined as one forever, if fortune smiled upon them and forever had no timeline.

For outside eyes, John Howard Cross and Shay Lyn DeBurgo were the couple; but inside the private walls of the mansion, no such line of demarcation existed. They fell into an unscripted routine. A tacit understanding, if you will. She crisscrossed suites, giving her love unstintingly. Of the two, John Marshall was the most bold and demanding. If she was asleep in John Cross’ bed, and John Marshall wanted her, he would take her, make love to her, and deliver her back to John Cross.

Paramount to the synchronicity of the lovers was the absence of jealousy. Having concocted the plan themselves, the Johns had conquered that emotion in advance.  They were true partners in crime wanting the same thing, the same woman. For that, they would compromise.

            Besides, they three were one, their destinies intertwined.

            And Shay had more semen uploaded to her uterus than any other ovulating female could ever hope for.

            So what was the problem?

            She was bound to get pregnant with two men providing abundant sperm. Right?

            Shay had no dearth of attention. The Johns attempt to get her pregnant was almost a tag-team effort. That’s what she wanted. That’s what they wanted. It was indeed part of their plan, after all. To be a family.

            More time passed. Shay’s ova remained unspawned.

            Shay stayed busy with Foundation work; the Johns had their squash games; and they were avid joggers, often participating in charity long-distance running events.

            Essential to their relationship was spending time together outside the mansion and so they established date night whereby the three would go out on the town and have fun together. They simply enjoyed one another’s company more than anyone else’s. 

If there was one glitch in their well-honed union, it was this: John Marshall continued, for cause, as he termed it-- to date other women. And sleep with them. That just about killed Shay though he reassured her the women…the sex…meant nothing to him. And in fact—he let her know—he got sick to the stomach after bedding a woman and afterward, immediately sought solace in Shay’s body to feel whole again. That accounted for John Marshall’s midnight raids when she was asleep in John Cross’ bed. 

 He was having guilt sex with her!

“Oh, goody—at least I’m good for something!”

“Damn it, Shay. I’m doing it for you…us!”

            “Oh really? That’s new. Screwing other woman for me! Let me think about that. No!”

            “Yes, damn it!”

            “Then why do I feel stabbed in the heart?”

            “I’m sorry, baby. People are talking. I have to keep up appearances, you know that.”

             Because there was talk. They all knew it.

            The Johns three-on-a-date nights with Shay had not gone unnoticed. There was a cloaked item on the society page about them.  Somebody had witnessed their kiss under the mistletoe and reported it.  If they showed up together at other functions that were not Foundation-affiliated or even danced together, there was sure to be comment. There was open speculation in the local tabloids. Gossip had been spreading like swine flu throughout Houston social circles. 

            A publicity shot of their heads together making plans for upcoming events carried in the Houstonia and other Houston pages with such captions as: Is there more here than meets the eye? Even John Marshall’s ex-wife had called and ragged him about it. Their supposed unconventional life-style was called into question and put under a microscope. After the discrimination suit fiasco, the Foundation could not afford another scandal.

            The shit was destined to hit the fan sooner or later, though.  John Marshall’s and Shay’s first fight post their arrangement was about Shay discovering another woman in his bed. He had never brought a woman home to his bed, not to her knowledge, not since they were a trio.  After the woman was dispatched, Shay confronted a remorseful John in the Library.

             “I won’t have it!” she cried. “You’ve got to stop!  What if you catch a disease from one of these women or get one pregnant or, God forbid, fall for her!”

             “If any woman gets pregnant with my sperm, it will be you. Other women—I rubber up.  You know that. Every time. So will you please tone down the Carmen Jones theatrics?”

            John Marshall sat uncomfortably in his chair, which was a veritable hot seat, while Shay circled in an arc around it.

            “I won’t calm down! I endured that …that widow Gloria Hicks trying to make a third husband out of you!  And now Joyce Ruthers!  She’s attractive.  Do you love her?”  Shay demanded, tearfully.

            “Joyce Ruthers?  No, I don’t freakin’ love her. You know I love you. The gossip was seeping into the Foundation’s core. Yes, I bedded one of the board members to keep her quiet. The only way I could finish the act was to envision her as you.  She insisted on doing it in my bed because she wanted you to know.  She’s jealous of you and she’s got the biggest mouth of all.”

            “Big enough to accommodate your penis, I saw!”

            “Look, Shay. I have my reputation as a playboy to keep alive. Playing the field is what I did before you.  It’s expected of me.”

            “Well, I wish you weren’t such a…a sex fanatic!”

            They were just words borne out of frustration. How little did she know it was true!

            “Can’t I be enough for you?” she cried.

            “If I suddenly started living like a monk—it would throw gasoline on a fire that’s already raging.”

            “You said you loved me!”

            “I do love you!  I love you to death.”

            “I don’t believe you! I think we should break up our cozy little threesome. It’s not working for me.”

            “Shay, don’t even think it! You’re scaring me. John, man—can I get an assist here?” John Marshall beseeched John Cross, the cooler head in the room, who leaned indolently against a desk, arms and ankles crossed, looking on, mildly amused.    

            “Hey—I’m not the one sticking my pecker where it doesn’t belong.”

            Shay sniffed. “I was on my period early and I came to you.”  John Marshall craved her that way because she was hard to satisfy, and that was all the more gratifying for him. He kept a calendar of her cycle for just that purpose. “I wanted to surprise you but I got surprised instead. You’re lucky I got out of there and didn’t make a scene.”

            Wiping at her frustrated tears, she threatened: “How would you like it if I sleep with Leonard Jackson when I go home to Atlanta next week?” 

            “Who the hell is Leonard Jackson?”

            “A former suitor,” John Cross supplied.

            “I’d put a bullet between his eyes, that’s how I’d like it. I can’t bear that you’re this upset with me. I won’t have another woman in my bed again. Promise. We’ll figure out something else.”

            “We can start by burning your mattress! Well, at least the sheets!” she huffed.

            “As you wish, baby,” he relented, making a show of wiping his brow.  “Now come here, give me some brown sugar.”

            John Cross’ hand on Shay’s arm stayed her momentarily from delivering that brown sugar.

            “I got it—what will settle this whole thing and put a stop to the rumors! Shay and I will simply get engaged.  I don’t see any reason why we should wait until she gets pregnant to get married.  How about it?  Shay, will you marry me?”

            Shay didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ve always wanted to marry you. You know that.”

 John Cross pulled her to him and kissed her soundly and they fell to laughing with joy.  He swirled her around, giddy with excitement.  They started making plans right then and there.

            “Hey! I’m still in the room,” John Marshall groused.

“Oh. Do we have your blessing, John?” John Cross asked.

            “Only if I can cuckold the husband and his bride spends her wedding night in my bed.”

            “We wouldn’t have it any other way, would we, Shay?”

            Next day they placed an announcement in the papers with a photo of the happy couple in a sweet embrace, looking into each other’s eyes. Doubtless, they were a couple crazy in love.

            Soon after in mid-October, Shay left for her trip to Atlanta for visits with her mother at Peach Wood and good friend Janae Ware. Leonard Jackson was an idle threat. She didn’t see him. She didn’t intend to see him. Janae heard he got married.

            Janae was happy Shay was engaged to the love of her life John Cross and oohed and aahed over her 5-carat diamond.  And yes, she’d be happy to be her maid-of-honor.

            “So? How is the other John taking it? Wasn’t he carrying a torch for you?”

            Shay kept her true relationship status with the Johns a secret from Janae. She wouldn’t understand. Who would?  Shay left it at: “He gave us his blessing and will be best man at the wedding.”

Enter Kevvin Marshall-Bey the III

Halloween, 2016

“Ah, the lovely ShayDeBurgo, the woman I’ve been hearing so much about,” greeted KevvinMarshall-Bey, taking her hand in his after his brother introduced them.

            “Now let me see…you plan my brother’s wing dings, right?”

            “Actually, my official title is Executive Assistant to the President.”

            “And your un-official title…”

            Shay realized their palms were generating heat and pulled hers away, flicking her eyes to John who shook his head imperceptive.

            “Kevin. At last we meet.”

            “Kevvin, double v—for future reference.”

            “I’ll have to keep that in my head when I say it. That’s unusual.”

            “I’m unusual.”

            Okay. “You’re a third…which means…”

            “It’s bogus. I took creative license. Gives power to my name, don’t you think? My mother’s grandfather, Kevvin Marshall, a Norwegian…I’m named for him.”

             Kevvin’s portrait hung in the grand hall with John’s, their parents, grandparents, and various ancestors—all first names initialized. So Shay had no idea of the specialized nature of his name. Names are personal things. Owners like for people to get it right. It irritated her when extra letters were arbitrarily added on to her name. Shaye Lynn DeBurgot.

            “You’re actually John’s twin brother.” That fact she did know.
             “Fraternal,” Kevvin said. “He got the looks; I got the smarts.”

            Actually, they did not look unalike. If John Marshall was the handsome vampire; then his brother was the handsome devil.

             What was the term? Identical misidenticals?

            He had John’s olive coloring and height; a slender face with strong features all his own and a smirk that doubled for a smile. While his brother’s eyes were chocolate cream, Kevvin’s was a startling sapphire blue that nailed you on the spot. He had a reputation in the rags of being a bad boy. Women were obviously drawn to his heart-breaker looks; but he didn’t seem to be the sort that you’d enter into a business deal with unless you wanted a dagger in your back later! Some people just looked that way: shoddy and unctuous.  Didn’t mean anything.  Bad acts did.  Perhaps, she shouldn’t jump to conclusions about Kevvin Marshall-Bey III.

            Who was she kidding? He had bad-to-the-bone written all over him!

            You see characters in movies and you know right off that they’re trouble with a capital T; but the people surrounding them, don’t have a clue. And you wonder: why can’t the victims see the same thing you are seeing? Kevvin struck her as such an inscrutable character.

            “So, who have I managed to impress?” Shay asked, giving him her most charming smile.

            “Who haven’t you? Particularly, John’s ex-wife, Landra Hollingsworth.”

            Landra  Hollingsworth. The name sounded familiar but did not ring a specific bell. John Marshall never talked about his ex.

            Again, she looked to John who had the guilty-dog look.  “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. Have I?”

            John spoke then, saying: “She was at the Christmas party, Shay.”

            “Was she? I don’t recall making her acquaintance. Why is that, John?” Shay blinked at him, innocently.

            “I’m pretty sure I introduced you,” he explained for Kevvin’s ears primarily. “She’s a volunteer, working out of the Kingwood section.”

            “Oh. Her name must have been on the list I prepared for the plaques. That’s how I know her name. I still don’t remember meeting her but then again I greeted a fair amount of people.”

            Without the caveat of ex-wife, Shay thought, moving to John’s side, Shay would be kept in the dark.  Maybe that was his intent as his ex-wife was a taboo subject according to John Cross. “Maybe it was her last name that threw me off. I would have recalled meeting John’s ex-wife.”

            Well! She was certainly going to look up Ms Landra Hollingsworth on the internet first chance she got!

            “She’s certainly fascinated by you.”  Kevvin’s shrewd blue eyes glommed onto her ring: “I hear that congratulations are in order. You and John Cross….” He let the statement hang out there.  No one pursued it.

            “Thank you. We’re very happy. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kevvin with two Vs. Please excuse me. I have an errand to run. See you at dinner? Tonight’s Italian.”

            “The pleasure is all mine,” he said to her as she departed; to John he said: “Sweet…I know you’re hitting that…say you’re hitting that, brother, and make me proud.  Is John Cross aware of what’s going on between you two?  Right.  I bet he is.”

            “Shut your damn mouth about Shay.”

            “Ah, I seem to have hit a nerve, huh, bro. So, that’s John Cross’ little virgin all grown up. I remember us sitting around talking about how the two of you would share her—before John Cross went and chickened out.  I always felt left out because I wanted in on it too.  And wasn’t there a certain manifesto floating about? So, has the new experiment begun? Shay doesn’t realize she’s your sex slave, does she? No, because you’ve wrapped it in tenderness and love and tied it in pink ribbon.”

            “The manifesto was the immature ramblings of two horny college kids. You were there! You know it for what it was.  I grew up.  You should try it some time.”

            “You’ve got a pretty cushy deal going on. You get to bang your gorgeous ex-wife and Miss Dark-and-Lovely at the same time.”

            “What the hell do you want, Kevvin? Why are you here exactly? Have you run through your inheritance already?”

            “I don’t need any handouts from you, John. I have just as much right to be here as you have. I was born and raised in this house, same as you.” You fought in probate court and you lost.  How can you show your face here after the damage you tried to do to the Foundation?”

            “The damage I did?  That flimsy-ass bias dustup … a black daycare not getting funds because they were reallocated to a white dance school? Wonder who the whistleblower was on that?”

            “Who else could it have been but you?”

            “Who indeed?  Take your blinders off, man.”

            “Oh, I think I’m looking at the right person.”

            “You can’t prove a damn thing. Besides, you came out of it smelling like a rose. A hero,” Kevvin said. “So what’s your beef?”

            “I repeat: why are you here? What is it that you want?”

            Kevvin plopped down in one of the Queen Ann chairs. “My last independent bombed at Cannes.”

            “I heard.”

            “Yeah, the whole world heard.  I need to get back in the saddle.  I need some financial backing for this beauty of a project—”

            “No.”

            Kevvin’s look was sour.

            “I just need to buy North American rights.”

            “I can’t help you.”

            “It’s a business deal. A mil. That’s a drop in the bucket to you.”

            John Marshall cast his twin a hard stare. “Not one red cent. And furthermore, considering the last time you were here and the chaos you caused, frankly I’m nervous to have you on the premises. You can stay the night, but I want you gone by the time I get back from the board meeting tomorrow. Understand, brother?”

            Kevvin came to his feet, his hands curled into fists. “You will regret this.” 

            He stalked out, getting as far as the landing before called back by John.

            “Kevvin! Wait...come back…let’s talk. Perhaps we can work out something to our mutual benefit”

Six weeks later. Cross-Bennett Nissan Dealership

John Cross looked up from paperwork and through the blinds saw Shay Lyn at the receptionist desk talking to Mindy.

              Other than an open-house event she attended in which he had introduced her to staff last November; she had never dropped in on him at work. 

  Some employees now surrounded her, congratulating and admiring her engagement ring. He hurtled out of his chair and headed out to the showroom.

            “Shay, sweetheart.”  He wrapped his arms about her waist, kissed her, to the applause of spectators.  Arm-in-arm, they headed for his office.  He closed the blinds and she sat down.  He leaned against his desk. “This is a surprise. What brings you downtown, sweetheart?” He glanced at his watch. “I’d take you to lunch but—”

            “I needed to see you before you got home. I don’t want John Marshall anywhere near when I tell you this.”

            “Tell me what? You’re scaring me.”

            “I had an appointment with my OBGYN. I’m pregnant!”

             It took a moment for this news to sink in. “Shay, that’s wonderful! That’s great! Oh Baby, I’m thrilled! This means we can move up the date of our wedding.”  He pulled her close to stand between his legs. “I’m going to be a father.” They kissed. “But why don’t you want John Marshall to know? He’d be elated as well.”

            “I doubt it.”

             John Cross frowned. “Baby, you know we don’t care who the biological father is.”

            “Even if it’s John Marshall’s brother?”

            “What? Wait. What?”

            Tears welled up in her eyes. “He tricked me into having sex with him…I thought he was John Marshall.”

            “What the hell? How for God’s sake?”

            The words tumbled from her mouth. “I know it sounds implausible. But it happened.  Six weeks ago, the day he was supposed to catch a flight back to Paris. You and John left after breakfast. I was loading the dishwasher and he was just hanging out, killing time, drinking coffee and telling me about his next movie project. He was quite pleasant to talk to. He gave no indication of what he was about to do.  I wished him a safe trip, and excused myself to return to my suite.

            “Then…well, it happened rather quickly. I was in the shower, lathering shampoo in my hair, and suds got in my eyes—that’s my only defense, that I didn’t open my eyes wide enough…I felt a presence in the shower with me and I logically assumed it was John—being his loving self—that his meeting had been cancelled, which sometimes happens.”

Rape by Deception, a crime

          He went down on her first thing, sniffing her and chewing her clit. That was new and quite enjoyable. She squinted down at his dark head, her hands gripped in his hair, pressing him closer and closer in…until she climaxed on his tongue. “John,” she wailed. He lifted her then, and balancing her between the ceramic wall and his pelvis, he jabbed into her and kept jabbing until the opening stretched and he bounced off the mouth of her womb. For some reason, she felt unusually overfilled…but her body took care of that…drenching and obliging him. Her arms went up around his neck. His mouth sought her breasts and her body pulsed around him feverishly, her heels dug in the back of his thighs. Her vagina was a live animal, squeezing him as she felt his desperation and matched it. And it was so fucking wonderful to her…to him too, because he groaned God’s name as if surprised and double-timed his thrusts to bring them to a sudden startling finish. All the time, she kept her eyes closed, thrilling to him as the water from the rain shower head beat down on their skins. When they came, they sought each other’s mouths in a blistering kiss which went on and on, practically lasting the duration of their aftermath. God, she loved him so.

          “I wish I could take you with me to Paris.”

          Shay opened her eyes into the sapphire blue of Kevvin Marshall-Bey’s. Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh—NoNoNoNoNo  No, damn it!  She was too shocked to move a muscle.

          “Your pussy is incredible, baby. You know I can still feel it sucking me. Milking me. The best piece I’ve had in a long time,” he boasted. “So this is what drives the Johns to distraction? I get it.”

          “I’m not a piece,” she cried. “And this is a mean dirty trick to pull.” Tears gathered like a waterfall behind her lids.

          He shrugged. “We both were coming out of our skins; so what’s the fuss?”

          “I thought you were John!”

          “Which one?”

          “You’re a bastard,” she wept. She wanted to slap his face but realized she was pinned against the tiled partition and therefore could not draw back her hand so she let her arms fall to her sides.

          “You can tell my brother that I’ve served my turn on him.”

          “You’re trying to hurt your brother thru me? Why would he care?”

          “If he’s screwing John Cross’ woman then he has feelings for her. John Cross loves you. John Cross loves my brother. My brother loves John Cross and therefore my brother loves you. Simple relationship dynamic. I think it is called conversion. Those two couldn’t be any closer if they were homosexual lovers. Believe me; I used to think they were. But no, they love female tail,” he said. “Like I do.”

          Only semi-soft, because of a persistent arousal fluke, he pulled out, and she regained her footing.

          “Why are you trying to hurt me?”

          “Actually, I like you. But I had to do this. My plan was to force you to have sex with me but what I got was a pleasant surprise and worked out so much better. I suck at rape. I wish I could say, it’s only sex but it’s not. It’s so much more. A billion-dollar-trust-fund more. I overheard the Johns talking about getting you pregnant. And I don’t believe their motives are pure, sweetheart. They’d never admit it; but they want the money. Now they can add my semen to the gene pool. May the best sperm win.”

          “Go find your own baby mama’s womb, you imbecile!”

          “Imbecile? But Shay, I like your womb.” He placed his hand where her uterus was. “I’ll return when the little angel is born. I have plans for her or him...and the mother too. Maybe by then I can convince you to ditch the loser Johns.” With that he left the shower and Shay slid down to the floor. The shower is a good place to cry when you have to cry long and hard and bitter tears.

          Soon Kevvin was sauntering back in the bathroom, this time fully clothed in a tan suit, sans tie, the collar of his white shirt open at the throat. A villain masquerading as a gorgeous, competent man. He held up a folder as he stooped down to her level and took her chin in his hand. “Dry those tears, beautiful. Here. A gift for you. After you read it, ask yourself—are you true love or a magnificent obsession of my brother and John Cross? Sorry to frost over your rose-colored glasses. You can thank me later.”

          “They’re right to call you a brilliant slime ball in the media!”

          “They’re too kind.”

          “How can someone be so good-looking, yet so evil.”

           He smirked. “Gifted, I guess.” Then he stood and turned on his heel.

*********************************

     

            Part of this she related to John Cross, leaving out the more salacious details.

            “Motherfuck!  Son-of-bitch!”  John Cross moved away from her and paced the confined space.  He balled up his fists.  “I’ll kill him if I get to him before John Marshall does!”

            “John Marshall can’t know.  I thought about the morning after pill; but you and I had sex the night before so I could already be pregnant with your child or John Marshall’s child.  I couldn’t take that risk.”

            “I’m glad you didn’t, Shay.”

            Shay went in her bag and withdrew a thin clasp folder and handed it to him. “So—what I read in your plan, is it true, John? You set me up. You manipulated me...so you two could share me. Sexually...and every other kind of way.”

            “To be a family, Shay.”

            “So everything was a lie.”

            “Not everything.”

            “You faked premature ejaculation?”

            “All feigned.”

            “God, I felt so guilty betraying you and it’s what you wanted from the start—to share me with John Marshall. John’s Barbie Doll meltdown in Paris—faked?”

            “A ruse to get you in his bed.”

            “You never had the flu.”

            “It was a plot point—again to put you in John Marshall’s orbit.”

            “Was any of it real?”

            “Our love for you. Our deep, deep love and desire for you. You’ve got to believe that.”

            “Oh I do. You went to great lengths…but still you could have failed.”

            “But we didn’t.”

            “All that happened with the three of us I thought grew out of a natural progression of this great love we have for each other.” 

            “And it did!”

            “Maybe. But it was created and nurtured on the backbone of trickery and manipulations.”

            “Not everything. Baby, we’re committed to you. To our relationship.”

            “Am I a total fool to love you? To love the both of you?”

            “Don’t even think that way.”

            “Don’t worry, John. I’m not going anywhere. Quite the contrary. I love you too much. I love what we three have together.  It’s perfect.  And now there’s a baby. We’re in this together. I’m not bailing.”

            John Cross visibly relaxed. He wanted to go down on his knees and kiss her feet. “You were right to come to me…to tell me what happened.”

            “At first I wasn’t. I was all set to keep this horrible secret what Kevvin did to me. I didn't want trouble and I felt guilty for my part in it. I tossed it to the back of my mind. But the baby puts everything about Kevvin into perspective.  We have to protect the baby from him…from exploiting this baby for money.”

            John Cross said: “John Marshall explained it to me once. The first Marshall-Bey sire gets a billion dollars. And must be born after the twins are twenty-five. They wanted them mature enough to handle that much money. The twins’ offspring get a stipend at sixteen and the bulk at eighteen. The probability that this baby is Kevvin’s, you’re right—John Marshall cannot know. They hate each other. Their parents screwed with their minds from the day they were born, pitting one against the other, making them compete for everything, including their inheritance. I’m the brother John Marshall never had.”

            “Mathematically, the probability the baby is Kevvin’s is high. I’ve thought about it and thought about it. Almost a year of having unprotected sex, with two potential fathers, and I didn’t get pregnant. Then Kevvin violates me and suddenly I’m pregnant. I’m scared. If he finds out I’m pregnant, he’ll insist the baby is his and cause trouble for us. He told me he would.”

            “I’m stumped. I never figured Kev for a rapist. And I’ve known him as long as I have

John.  He was never the aggressor with women. He didn’t have to be. They clamored for him. He’d sit back and let them do all the work. His looks, his charms—he never had to lift a finger.”

            “Obviously, good ol’ Kev changed over the years while you weren’t looking!”

            John Cross searched Shay’s lovely face. “You must have really turned him on.”

            “How can you say that? Now, it’s my fault…I enticed him? Is that what John Marshall will think as well?”

            “No!” John Cross exploded. “That’s not what I mean at all, Shay. You don’t know the power of your vivacity…your sexual energy. You must have been more temptation than he could resist.”

            “Now I’m a temptress! I didn’t expect this…not from you, John!”

             You wore your robe to breakfast…”

            “We all wore our robes. So?”

            “You were naked beneath yours.”

            “He didn’t know that!”

            “He has an imagination, Shay.”

            “Oh, my God…so I asked for it?”

            “Stop twisting my words, Shay. You didn’t lead him on, for heavens sake! I know that! Look, Kevvin’s totally responsible for his actions. I promise, I won’t let him near you again or our baby.  But for now—please, let’s keep this just between us. We’ll share the news about your pregnancy with John Marshall and let it go at that. Hopefully we’ll never hear from or see Kevvin ever again. He’d be wise not to show his face after what he did to you.”

            Shay Lyn was sleeping in John Marshall’s bed tonight. The three had gone out to dinner to celebrate the wonderful news of Shay’s pregnancy. When they walked through the double doors of the manor that opened into the grand hall, John Cross kissed her good night, relinquishing her to John Marshall who took her hand and led her to his suite.

            Shay had agreed not to divulge what she knew about the manifesto to John Marshall.

            “Happy?” he asked her.

            “I am so happy about the baby, I’m beside myself.”

            “Just checking. You seemed a little morose tonight.”

            “It’s uncanny how you pick up on my moods.”

            “That’s because I am in tuned to everything that is you, Shay.”

            “God, I am so in love with you,” she told him.

            “I’m in love with you too, Shay,” he said, his hand on her stomach as she leaned back against the bed pillows. “So tell me, baby, what has you sad at heart.”

            “Your ex-wife. Even though I’m marrying John Cross, if you went back to your ex-wife, it would devastate me.”    

            “My ex-wife?  Why do you mention her? Tell me you are not jealous of Landra.”

            “I’m blind with jealousy. I looked her up on the internet. We couldn’t be more different.  She’s this beautiful blonde, vivacious woman, tall and elegant. A lawyer.”

            “You’re beautiful and vivacious and effervescent, and you’ve got a body that throws me off my equilibrium. I get aroused watching you walk away. I get aroused watching you come into view. Your mind arouses me.  I think about you 24-7.  When you’re with John, I want you with me, but I know I must curb my appetites if our relationship is going to work.”

            “But she’s your type!”

            “My type?  I didn’t know I had a type.”

            “I can so see you two together.” 

            “Shay—”

            “She was at the Christmas party but you didn’t introduce us. I’m sure of it!” Shay tried another tactic. “I remember her!  But I was too busy to pay her any attention.”

            “You’re absolutely right. But baby, I was trying to get next to you that night. I wasn’t going to spoil what chance I had by rubbing her in your face.”

            “What’s your relationship with her now, exactly? And don’t lie to me, John.”

            “Here’s the truth—we’re…friendly and before your mind goes wonky—friendly does not extend to sleeping with her. Believe me, it took a lot of forgiveness on my part. But she was remorseful and I decided to let bygones be bygones. Landra was a victim as much as I was.”  He glanced about the room at nothing in particular.

            “Forgave her for what? What did she do?”

            He paused then, his eyes making contact again with hers. “She had an affair with my brother, Kevvin.”

            Shay’s eyes rounded.  Oh no!  Her heart squeezed. She could never tell him about Kevvin now. Would John Marshall believe that his brother duped her?  It would be Kevvin’s word against hers. She knew how his story would go. John Marshall must take her side! Of course, he would because he loves her! Kevvin was a loathsome reprobate.

            “He didn’t really want her; his interest was heightened because she was my wife and he wanted whatever I had. Sibling rivalry 101. So he fed her a bunch of lies about me and other women. She fell into his trap, and subsequently filed for divorce. When she wasn’t my wife anymore, he deserted her. Sweetheart, she’s to be pitied not envied.”

            Shay threw her arms about his neck. “I want to be your wife; I want to marry you; marry the both of you.”

            “I’d like that too; however, my darling, bigamy is a crime in the state of Texas,” he told her. “I’m content with you marrying John. After all, you knew him first.”

            “John was my first love. But he deceived me. I never fell in love again after him, until you.”

            “And you had no other lovers…”

            She shook her head. “I swear…until you.”

            “But how did you manage to stay celibate for so long? Men must have been clamoring for you.”

            “For one thing, I took myself out of contention: I joined the Peace Corps for six years. After that I earned a masters degree. Got interested in yoga; and Janae and I dedicated ourselves to building our yoga business. I did date this one guy Leonard Jackson, my banker, for a long while but he gave up on me and looked elsewhere.”

            “Peace Corps. Six years. I forgot about that. It was on your CV. I was impressed. You have to tell me about your experiences sometime.”

            John Marshall gave her a tender kiss.

            “I’m glad John and I are your only lovers,” he said which made her groan inwardly, thinking of Kevvin. The sex had been extraordinarily good with Kevvin only because in her mind he was John Marshall and all that was John Marshall. Even his smell.

            She put her fingers to his lips. “But let that be our secret. I don’t want to lose his respect.”

            “How’s that?”

            “He believes I moved on from him back then…with other men. If he knew that I had these lugubrious longings for him, he wouldn’t respect me. He respects that I had the strength of character to put our relationship behind me just as he did. But I didn’t. I couldn’t let another man touch me. Pathetic, right?”       

            “I don’t think he’d hold it against you that you loved him so much that you remained faithful to the memory of that love. I know I wouldn’t.”

            “You’re different. Your ego would celebrate that I pined for you. But John Cross would think me a pitiable fool. For him, there were many other women. Marriage. Engagements. He shouldn’t be made to feel guilty about it. This way, we are equal. Promise me, John.”

            John sighed. “Okay. But I don’t understand it. The man’s crazy about you. I don’t think he’d care one way or the other. Your pregnancy means a swift marriage. And he wants to marry you in the worse way. He’s over the moon about that.”

            “I know. However…however, I’m having second thoughts. I don’t want to lose you. If I marry John, I’m afraid you’ll disappear. If I marry you, I know John Cross will never leave me. Why is that? Explain that to me.”

            John Marshall-Bey was uneasy with this conversation. He had to set Shay’s mind straight. If she started floundering now, John Cross would be devastated. As much as John Marshall loved Shay, he couldn’t let her hurt John Cross. Rather she hurt him, than John Cross. His best friend was paying a supreme price to bring them together.

             And yes, it hurt that he could not claim her legally his. He was human. A bit of envy was allowed. There was nothing for it but to be content with the same benefits as a husband, he repeatedly told himself. To that end, he tried to bury his misery in her loving arms as much as he could to compensate. Of course, they must never know his true, selfish feelings.
           “John, I have a confession to make. I can no longer contain it; it’s burdening my heart.”
           “Shay—”
           “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you? You don’t want my words hanging out in the ozone because then you’ll have to deal with it, you and John. But here it is: My love for you is deeper; there’s no other way to say it. I love John. I do.  But I’m desperately in love with you. And that forces me to put my true feelings for John Cross into perspective—my first love who hurt me and compromised me to his best friend. Only it backfired on him…and on you.”
            “I was hoping this would not happen. He can’t lose you to me. It’ll destroy him and he didn’t sign up for this. It was me—in the very beginning, I wanted you and I forced the situation.”

            “And he loaned me to you, like I was property.”

            “No. He hoped by doing so, we’d burn out.”

            “Well, we didn’t.”

            “And eventually, he realized that and agreed to share you rather than lose you altogether. Shay, the guy’s crazy about you. He can’t wait to marry you.”
            “I know. But it’s not enough for me. I want to be your wife before I’m his wife.”

            “And you know you’re splitting: something we agreed not to do.”

            Was she? Was she making him choose sides?

            He forced her hand. She played her trump card. “John—I’m aware of your written college manifesto. I’m not going to tell you how, so don’t ask me.”

            Startled silence.

            “Shit.” His eyes contemplated the ceiling before engaging her eyes again. They were misty and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “Shay, those were ramblings of two horny fraternity guys.”

            She smiled. “Long before I was a gleam in your horny eyes? For a fantasy, it’s not half bad. Two males, one female—if you’re into that sort of thing. And there’s no denying you are because, hey—here I am—smack dab in the middle of you two.”

            “You’re not upset.” He looked relieved.

            “Hmm, you know I thought I should be…” she shrugged “…but in the end I couldn’t muster up the energy. John Cross knows I know.”

            “Shay, sweetheart—”

             She covered his mouth with her palm and he licked it. “Aap! I don’t want to hear it. The subject is closed forever. I love you. I love John. Now are you going to marry me?”

            “Shay—what you’re asking is not feasible or legal.”

            But his argument lacked conviction, and Shay, sensing she had the upper emotional hand, played it: “I don’t care! That’s what I want. If I don’t get what I want, John Cross and I will never walk down that aisle and I will take my baby and you will never see us again. I mean it, John Marshall.”

            “You’re threatening me?”

             She kissed his mouth. “Yes, I’m threatening you with all my heart.”

            “Then you leave me no choice.”

On the phone with Janae Ware; December , 2015

“I’m pregnant!”

            There were squeals, shrieks, and screeches on the other end of the line.

            Shay laughed, “Calm down, Janae. I have more good news. John Cross and I are getting married in two weeks. We have opted for a small ceremony. I want you to stand up for me. We’ll fly you to Houston. Can you do it? Can you get off work?”

            “Girl, I might have to sleep with my boss but I would not miss it for anything!”

            “I’ll e-mail you the details! I can’t wait for you to meet John Marshall.”

            “John Marshall, huh?”

            “Don’t start!”

Mr and Mrs John Howard Cross

Three weeks later, Sunday, December 23, 2016 Shay Lyn DeBurgo became Mrs. John Howard Cross in a simple ceremony in a small church.

            Following which the happy couple received several hundred guests at the Governor’s Inn, receiving gifts and well wishes.

            Shay took to the middle of the floor and surprised everyone when she sang her new husband a love song. Janae aided in prep, sitting John Cross in the middle of the floor and organizing folks around the perimeter.

            Someone put a microphone in her hand.

            “I am singing this song to my husband, John Howard Cross, whom I love and adore; who has my heart; who has my soul; who has my love as I have his. The song is ‘We Are One’ from the movie Orca. We know that Orcas mate for life and I could not think of a more appropriate song to convey the special bond we have.”

            After scanning the room and making contact with John Marshall-Bey’s loving eyes she concentrated on her husband of several hours. This song was for John Marshall as well. She nodded to the MC to begin the music. Both her parents were singers, so it was no surprise she could carry a tune, her voice part operatic; part bluesy. She surprised everyone who did not know she could sing. As she sang, she swayed toward John Cross, circled his chair, and came to kneel before him to finish the song. He rose and brought her to her feet and kissed her endearingly to everyone’s applause. “Thank you for making me an insanely happy man. I love you, Shay.”          

------------------------------          

            I will bring the sun through darkened clouds

                And I will leave with you

                Rainbows for your eyes

                Rainbows for your eyes

                My love, we are one                           

                We are one, we are one, cry my love

                Let me lead you where moonlit waters fall

                Shadows softly call

                My love, we are one,

                We are one; we are one, cry my love,

                Let me lead you through the stillness of the night

                Deliver dawn’s first light, my love

            We are one, we are one, we are one, WE ARE ONE

                                (Carol Connors)

*********************************

            Later, Janae weaved her way through the mingling crowd to pull Shay aside from well-wishers. “Excuse us….”

            “Janae Ware! How rude!”      

            “You look absolutely stunning! You are wearing the hell out of that dress!” 

            The dress was made of ivory satin, sleeveless, just above the knee, showing off her shapely legs in her ivory satin pumps. “Thanks. Again.”

            “Girl, John Marshall can’t take his eyes off you and he’s not even the groom!  I was over there by the bandstand watching him, watching you! I swear there were tears in his eyes when you sang that lovely song. What’s up with you two?”

            “Nothing.”

            “What’s he like in bed? I bet he can wear out some pussy.”

            “Janae!”

            “Shay!  Don’t give me that innocent look. There’s no way you’re rubbing shoulders with that guy every day and not giving up the nooky!”

            “I admit there was an attraction between us when we first met.”

            “I knew it!” Janae’s voice dropped dramatically: “And so, initially you fought it—you both did—but the rage inside your loins and your hearts was too strong.”

            “No, silly. But you’re right; I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t tempted. I realized, however, my heart belonged to John Cross.” Shay placed her hand over her heart.

            “Well, yeah…I can see that. He’s cute as a button. But my body would belong to John Marshall.” Janae gesticulated her hands from neck to knee. “And if I were John Cross, I’d give you a pass! John Marshall is one fine ass white man.”

            “That he is.”

            “Look, Shay, since you don’t want him, can I have him? He can hit it and quit it. That would be fine with this sister. I kinda feel sorry for him, pining for you. I’d love to give him some sympathy sex.”

            “Don’t waste your pity—John Marshall is not the pining type. He once told me there’s not a woman that another woman can’t help him forget. And no, you can’t have him. He’s presently spoken for by a rich young widow. We might be dancing at his wedding next.”

            “Spoken for or not, just you be careful. Marriage vows won’t deter a man like him—just whet his appetite.”

            “He’s got quite an appetite...I hear.”

            “Girl, I am not going to touch that. But here’s my shoulder if you want to get something off yours.”

            Shay laughed. “There’s nothing to tell. Really.”

            “Right.”  Janae was unconvinced.

            Shay’s eyes searched for John Cross who was laughing and shaking hands with guests. The Groom was so dashing in his cummerbund and ivory tails! Next her gaze panned left to John Marshall, dressed similarly, who started walking toward them.

            “Oh! Lordy! He’s coming this way,” Janae exclaimed, scurrying like prey. “Ciao.”

             When John Marshall reached Shay, he smiled affectionately. “What was that all about? Your little friend Janae is a hoot.”

            Shay returned his smile. “I think the word hoot was invented with her in mind. She thinks you’re hot stuff, by the way.”

            He arched a brow. “Oh, really. Think I should make my move?”

            “You touch her and I’ll slice your balls off and FedEx them to the widow Hicks.”

            “Ouch,” he grinned, looking pleased by her threat. “May I kiss the bride?”

            So much for small talk.

            Not waiting for her answer, he placed a hand at her waist and tipped his champagne glass into her mouth before he kissed the residue from her lips. It wasn’t a kiss that drew attention; but special to them. “I love you, Mrs Cross,” he murmured on her lips.

            “I wanted a wedding like this for us.”

“I know, Darling. But you’ve got me, like you wanted.  How do you think I feel not being able to claim you as my lawful wife? I must forever suppress it and so must you.”

            “You have avoided making love to me for weeks. How am I supposed to take that?”

            “I’ve respectfully kept my distance so you could plan your special day with John Cross without my being a distraction; plus, I didn’t want you to see me sulking.”

            “How noble of you but please don’t anymore or I shall go crazy.”

            “I’m already there.”

            “So, have you been faithful?”

            “Faithful as a lapdog.”

            “I would have come to you, you know.”

            “I know. I relieved myself in the shower—thinking of you.”

            Shay fluttered her false eyelashes at him. “Did you like my song?”

            “I learn something new about you everyday, my darling. You leave me breathless.”

            “I sang for you too,” she said, bashful.

             He placed his hand over his heart. “I know.  I’m honored. You look simply mouth-watering and I am going to take my time and disassemble you, eat you up bit by bit the first chance I get. Shay, you understand me?”

            “Oh, Mr. Marshall-Bey, you give me chills.”

            “Dance with me, Mrs. Marshall-Bey.”

            “Say that, again.”

            “Mrs. Marshall-Bey, I love you.”

           

            Then in the dead of night, when at last John Cross retired to bed and Janae was deemed to be under from too much champagne and celebration, they plotted to sneak out across the fields to the back of the stables, lay their blankets by the stream and make love like crazy under the stars. Then dawn came. The fog rolled in. And arm-in-arm they staggered back to the mansion.

           

            The DeBurgo-Cross marriage worked as it was designed to work.

            The gossip disappeared into ether; suspicions simmered on low...lower…off.

            Nonetheless, wedding vows would change nothing in the dynamics between Shay and the Johns. The wedding was nothing more than a formality, a conduit, a blindside.

            A pre-nup was considered and abandoned as well as a formal contract. They didn’t need it, they decided. No one was going anywhere.

            They did, however, involve lawyers to draw up wills, physician directives, power of attorney, property rights, and bank accounts involving all three and child.

            The next week, the wedded couple honeymooned in Costa Rica where John Cross’ parents had retired. They remembered her from her employment at the Cross Estate and wholeheartedly welcomed her into the family. They were elated that they were going to be grandparents.  John was an only child and his mother a primagravida. Shay understood his birth was unexpected and came late in the Cross’ lives.

            And as for her impending motherhood, Shay felt she was the most pampered expectant mom in the world! The Johns waited on her hand and foot and was at her beck-and-call.          Nothing was too good for their Shay. Her new suite was now on the West Wing adjoining the Johns’. The sitting room was remodeled into a nursery, she designed and decorated herself. John Marshall commissioned a portrait of her at her most pregnant and he hung that on the wall opposite his desk so that it would always be within his line of vision.

            The Johns’ hands were forever on her stomach or their ears glued like stethoscopes listening to the heart of the baby. They learned it was a girl and they decided on the name Bonnie Liza DeBurgo Marshall-Bey Cross.

            The Johns made love to Shay up until her seventh month.  After which they used other forms of intimacy to show affection.  John Marshall developed a fetish for her milk-engorged breasts and continued to suckle them right up to the final month.  She loved it!  It was not unusual to find herself on his lap, his hand loitering between her legs; his tongue curled around her nipple when they should be working on some Foundation project or other.

___________________

“You know you can’t do this after the baby is born. I’ll be nursing.”

“I don’t see why not. You have two of them. The baby can nurse on one and I can nurse the other.”

“That is not going to happen. So go ahead and have your fun now.”

___________________

            Shay’s ninth month she was put on bed rest for the duration.  She took a maternity leave from the Foundation at that time, with an eye toward quitting for good.  She should be too busy having babies and maintaining a happy home with her two Johns to work a full time job.

            The threat of Kevvin Marshall-Bey seemed far away if not nonexistent.

            The constant was their eternal love and unbreakable bond. And the baby was at the center of everything. Their daughter was a July baby, 7lbs 9ozs, dark hair and blued-eyed.
            Sapphire blue eyes that caused disquiet with the Johns.

            And soon forced Shay back into the arms of the paragon of vultures, Kevvin Marshall-Bey III.

What you won’t do for love

John Cross answered John Marshall’s phone call.

            “Where are you, man?”

            “Parking. We’re just getting back from the movie. What’s up? Bonnie okay?”

            “She’s perfect.  Sleeping in her crib. Take Shay straight to the nursery. I need you in my office ASAP without Shay. We need to divert her attention for a few hours.”

            “What’s up?”

            “I’ve got Kevvin on skype.”

            “I see. I’m there.”

            “John Cross! Join the party!” said Kevvin Marshall-Bey.

            “You son-of-a-bitch. What do you think you’ll accomplish by coming here?”

            “My daughter.  And maybe her mother too.”

            “Over my dead body,” John Cross threatened.

            “The courts are the authority on that, guys. So why don’t we let them call it. And once I’ve won the precious babe, I’m confident the mother will tag along.”

             John Marshall exploded: “Over our dead bodies!”

            “She enjoyed every second of it, brother. Ask her. But this call is not about Shay. It’s about what’s mine and I am not going to let you steal my daughter from me. If I lose out on the DNA scramble, I’ll bow out. I’ll have no choice.  If I’m the biological father, I expect you to hand her over without a protracted court battle. In the meanwhile, can’t we all just get along?”

            “Fuck you, Kevvin! You’ll get a court battle alright, if it comes to that. You think for one second we would just hand our baby over to you even if it’s shown you are the biological father. You have no love for her. She’s a meal ticket to you. John Cross is the father of record. You’re wasting your time coming back to Houston.”

            “Landra tells me she has my eyes.  I want to see her for myself.”

            “What has Landra to do with it? Besides, that proves nothing. Sapphire blue eyes are a Marshall genetic trademark.”

            “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Landra’s my attorney. She hired a PI on my behalf. You’d be surprised the stuff a private dick can turn up. Soon your little cushy threesome will be shot to hell, brother.”

            John Cross said: “Since Landra passed the bar, she should have told you also—as Shay’s husband in the State of Texas by law I’m the presumed father at the time of birth.”

            Kevvin responded by saluting them with his middle finger.

           

            That same night, the Johns planned their strategy.

            John Marshall to John Cross: “You knew about Kevvin’s assault on Shay, yet neither you nor Shay saw fit to tell me. I had to hear that shit from him!”

            “We thought it was better you didn’t know for obvious reasons. She’s my wife now. I have to defend her honor. I have to protect her, even from you.”

            John Marshall glared at his friend, balling his fists in irritation. “From me?  What the hell are you talking about?  Don’t play the husband card with me or you won’t like where this ends!”

            “I wasn’t playing the husband card. Let’s not get into a debate who loves Shay more; it’s counterproductive.  It’s Kevvin who is the focus. She came to me first about him because she was scared you wouldn’t believe that she had mistaken Kevvin for you. It would have hurt her deeply if you took his side. I had to protect her from that pain.”

            “Of course I would have believed her!  It’s a moot point now anyway. He already confessed he went to her room to force her to have sex with him but she was in the shower, washing her hair. I can see the confusion. I’ve surprised her in the shower a time or two.”

            “And I never have,” John Cross admitted.

            “So, what are we going to do about Kevvin?”

            John Marshall opened his desk drawer and removed his Iver Johnson Pony .380 mil hand gun.

            “Simple, when he shows up here I’ll shoot him and we’ll store him in the freezer until we locate that fabled well on the estate and toss his ass 3,000 deep. He’ll never be recovered."


Houston, we have a problem

Shay Lyn met Kevvin’s flight from Paris at the AirFrance terminal. He cleared customs and she was waiting for him. Carrying a stylish duffle bag over his shoulder, he was immediately discernible, 6’4”, imposing, dapperly dressed in a winter green suit, sporting eyeshades. It seemed a crime to hide those magnificent sapphire blue eyes her daughter had inherited—either dominantly from him or recessive from the Marshall gene pool. John Marshall could just as well be Bonnie’s father.

            He peered over his shades. “Well, well, well! Do my eyes dazzle me or is this the enthralling Mrs. John Howard Cross come to welcome me home?”

            “Just the opposite, in fact,” returned Shay, unenthralled.

            “Wow…it’s been a whole year. You’re still looking foxy.”

            “Yes, a whole year since you ravished me.”

            “And look what you got! A bouncing bundle of joy! What? No kiss of appreciation?”

            He pinched her chin, bent and took a kiss anyway.  “You taste good.  Just as I remembered.”

            She slapped his hand away. “This isn’t old home week; I’m here to save your sorry behind, you moron.”

            “Moron? At least I’ve graduated from imbecile in your eyes. That’s progress.”

            “Can we find somewhere we can sit and talk privately? Civilly?”

            “Sure. There’s a Sports Bar down this way. C’mon, follow me.”

            As they faced off over a cocktail table in a dimly lit corner—ordering a Margarita for her; a Miller’s for him—he quizzed her: “So my brother sent you to deliver another threat to me? Unbelievable.”

            “Not at all. Neither John knows I’m here.”

            “Which is why…again?”

            “To keep you from walking into their trap. They plan to kill you. If you come to the mansion attempting to see Lil Bonnie, they’ll shoot you.”

            He chuckled: “Those dicks? They don’t have the balls. But it’s sweet of you to be concerned.”

            “You laugh but I believe they’ll do it. I believe them when they say they are going to shoot you and throw your body down the well that’s on the property. The Johns will do anything to protect our family and so will I.”

            Kevvin seemed to go away for a moment saying cryptically: “Well. I guess… when there’s no more use for you, there’s no more use for you.”

            Then he pulled himself back.  “So, Shay bird, what all would you do to protect your sacred little family?”

             “Certainly not kill you. They left Lil Bonnie’s 2-way monitor on and I overheard them, every word. I love them. I’m scared for them, for our lives together, that’s why I’m here. They are not thinking straight. Sure, you’d be dead. But satisfaction would be all they’d gain. Their plan would crumble around them and we’d stand to lose everything. Why didn’t you accept the money from the Johns…to just go away?”

            He gave a curt laugh. “A measly few million when a billion is at stake? What kind of fool do they take me for? We’ll settle this in court. I’ve sued and I’ve been sued. It comes with the business. I have established a reputation for being litigious. Sometimes, I lose but I always enjoy a good court fight. It’s the American way.”

            “But in this case, you drag everything into the public eye: an innocent baby, the Foundation, your brother, the family name—”

            “—the questionable way you and the Johns conduct your lives.”

            “You mean sharing a home full of love and commitment.”

            “Public perception is all that counts, Shay baby. Houston is filled with bigots. The community at large will find it repulsive. The local media will have a feast.  An innocent little girl being raise in that environment? Could even capture national curiosity. I might lose, but so will all of you.”

            “You’d do that to your child?”

            “So, you admit she’s mine.”

            “Only fifty per cent certain.”

            “I like those odds.”

            “The money to fund your next film—why didn’t you take it when your brother offered it?”

            “You know about that?”

            “We have no secrets from one another.”

            “Are you sure about that?” he smirked, leaning back in his chair, idly.  “I told him a lie. I don’t need his money. I just wanted to know what kind of forgiving heart he had. Mister let-bygones-be-bygones. So now I know.”

            “What about this, Kevvin: wait. Wait sixteen years for DNA testing. Bonnie is no good to you till she’s eighteen anyway and you gain conservatorship or control of her trust fund—if you win in court. What can you accomplish by acting now? Certainly not the money. Only pain and suffering for those who truly love her.”

            He appeared to think about it. “Point taken. May I at least see a picture of my precious little one?”

            “I don’t see the harm…” She rummaged in her purse for her cell, finding Bonnie’s pictures, swiping thru them. “Here.”

            “She’s beautiful. The spitting image of—dare I say it?—me.”

            “Yes, she’s beautiful. And loved. And protected.”

             He tapped the screen. “Sync this one to my phone.”

             He produced his cell and she completed the exchange.

            “So do we have a deal?” she pressed as he slid his phone back in to its niche inside his jacket.

            “You’re asking a lot, Shay. What do I get in return?”
             "A handshake?"
             "Try again."

            “Money can’t buy you…so…what do you want?”
            "Really, Shay? There should be no mystery to my desire."
            "You mean you didn't get all you wanted in my shower?"
            "Did you? Aren't you curious what I have to offer in a more relaxed setting, say--a big, comfortable bed?"
            "If I wanted to be stretched to infinity, I'd rather use a vise--not that bull mastiff you call a penis."

            “Thanks for the praise, now let's skip to the details. And there is only one. I want to fuck you in every position there is. Over time, of course. I’ll be patient.”

            “Why is it always about sex with you men? Do I hold any other value?”

            “Do you? If you’ve got any other collateral to secure our agreement that I would be interested in, lay it on me. Give…I’d like to hear it.”

            There was nothing.  “How—how many positions are there?”

            He raised an eyebrow at the question. “You’re kinky; so what does it matter?”

            “That might take years! And I am not kinky!” she yelled in a whisper. Well, maybe her hair.

            With like whisper, Kevvin stabbed the table with his index finger: “The hell you aren’t! You’re in a three-way with the most pervy guys I know!”

            “They are not perverts. You’re just jealous of the Johns.”

            “Jealous of the Johns. Why? Because they have what is rightfully mine? To quote Hamlet, and therein lies the rub. Of course, you can always get the paternity question out of the way now and prove I’m not the father, and I poof! Disappear.”

            “Don’t you think I would if I were confident in the results?”

            “Then we’ll do it my way.” Kevvin raised his arm and consulted his watch.  “You'd be surprised how many deals are cemented in bed. I’ve got ten hours to kill before I can book another flight back to Paris. I’ll get a room at the airport Marriot. So, Shay, my sweet, you will spend that time with me there as a down payment on our agreement.”

            “Ten hours!” she balked.

            “I like to get the most bang for my buck. How’s that for a pun?”

            “I can’t spend ten hours with you. I couldn’t account for the time. Neither would I want to breathe the same oxygen as you that long. Two hours, max.”
             “Since this is on the fly, I’ll take what I can get for now.  But next time I want a night and a day. Plan for it.”
            “You understand, don’t you, that I loathe you?”

            He smirked. “Make that three hours. You need a loathing adjustment.”

            “There’s not that much time in the Universe.”

            Shay thought back to that shaky beginning of their union when John Marshall screwed other women presumably to protect their relationship against scandal. Well, wasn’t this the same thing? Taking one for the team?

            Shay agreed to the three hours providing she could pull off a suitable alibi.

            “A resourceful woman like you should be able to lie convincingly to her loving husband and her dutiful lover.”

            Shay closed her eyes in thought briefly and when she opened them, he had brought his face closer—his sapphire eyes piercing. “So what do you say? Do we have a contract?”

            “Just don’t leave any bruises I might have to explain,” she said.

            “I won’t. At least not where they’ll be noticed,” he replied thickly, walking his fingers along her bare arm.

            She moved her arm to her lap. “Answer one question?  Would you have raped me were it not for the convenience of the shower?”

            Kevvin clucked his tongue. “Rape is an ugly word. I don’t make it a habit to rape women. But to settle the question—I wanted you, so—Yes, I would have used my superior strength to subdue you if you had resisted me. Am I a reprobate? Probably,” he answered, looking down into his drink. Then he tossed it back and stood.

            They locked looks.

            Shay said: “So you know—I would not have fought you. I’ve been forced before. By John Cross, no less. I learned then that it was in my best interest to submit to him.”

            “Right. Because in the end, it’s only sex. You would have shaken it off by the time the Johns arrived home for dinner. Did I get it right? Wasn’t that exactly what you did?  To keep the peace?  See how well I know you.  Let’s go.”

Airport Marriot and the deal

            “Join me?” Kevvin invited, as he stripped to shower.

            Shay shook her head.  “Been there. Done that. Had the baby.”

            While Kevvin removed fifteen hours of travel time from his body, Shay paced the plush carpeted floor of the suite, nervous about impending events.  She moved to the massive windows that allowed the 14^th floor an unfettered view of the busy highways, power lines, and planes flying in and out of the airport.

            After a minute, she turned away and her eyes fell to the king bed. What were his sexual proclivities? A man that would rape? He would be inflexible and demanding, of course. Just that one time with him in the shower revealed he was passionately raw and tended to be coarse. She could abide it. Like he said, it was only sex. And he had promised no bruising. How bad could it be? After all, she had two insatiable men at home!

            She drew the drapes to darken the room. No need to shed broad daylight on her infidelity.

            Her tormentor emerged from his shower, dried and boastfully naked, a towel around his waist barely covering him. He was the body double of Heracles. A body to be worshiped by adoring females and lovers of gods and heroes. Too bad he was wicked to his baby teeth.

            “So, what’s the 4-1-1?” he asked.

            “The Johns think I’m at my G-Y-N.”

            “Gynecologist? Smart.”

            “That way, I can claim a yeast infection and have an excuse to abstain while I put a hundred douches between you and them.”

            “Of course, they buy whatever you’re selling. I wrongly thought you were their sex slave. But the converse is true, isn’t it? They’re wrapped around your little brown finger? They’re pussy-whipped; under your loving control. Right?  Shay. They coddle you too much. If you were my woman—”

            “What, Kevvin? You’d beat me; chain me to your bed? Demean me? Strip me of my self-respect? Keep me naked, barefoot and pregnant? They love me. Do you love anyone, Kevvin? Are you capable of love?”

            Kevvin passed her an irreverent look.  “I was going to say, with a pussy like yours, I’d be whipped too. They’re not as dumb as they look. They know what they’ve got. What happened in the shower between us was a PG-approved preview. Today, I get an X-rated bite of their pie.”

            “And for your information, the sex-slave concept does not exist in our union. We are individuals, equal in every way.”

            His eyes narrowed. “So do you get time off or is it Shay their way, all day, all the time.”

            “It’s not like that. I have lots of free me time.”

            “If you say so, Shay.”  Whereupon he reached into his carry-on and withdrew a box of magnum condoms, which he shook at her, and dropped on the bedside table.

            Shay was glad to see them. “You do practice safe sex. I’m elated.”

            “Undress.”

            Shay stepped out of her high heeled sandals, her arms folding back to unzip her simple floral summer sheath; it slid to the carpet and she was naked except for the white sheer briefs.

            “Keep the panties,” he said, dropping down on the edge of the bed.  “Come here…closer…”

            Shay moved closer until her pelvis was level to his face. Kevvin leaned in, opening his mouth full over her crotch. Then he laved her thru her panties until they were wet from his saliva and her own contribution. She grew light-headed and clasped his shoulders for balance as her body gave her up and she came. He slid his tongue inside her panty leg and lapped up her syrup, making a noise of pleasure in his throat that rivaled the one in her throat. Finally, he retracted his tongue; his head went back, his sapphire blue eyes wise. She met them with undeniable heat.

            “You have a big strong athletic tongue,” she said.

            “You like what I can do with it.”

            “What gave me away?”

            “What else do you like, Shay?”

            “Why should I tell you so that you can do it ten times better than the Johns and make me fall in love with you?”

            “Do you fall in love so easily?”

            “It appears I do. I have a high capacity for love and that petrifies me where you are concerned because I don’t like you very much.”

            “You’re certainly more honest than you have to be…so tell me—if I lick you good and fuck you good, I could change your mind about me.”

            “That’s what I fear.”

            “You think I want you for myself?”

            “Don’t you? Not for love, of course, God forbid, but desirous of me because I belong to your brother and beyond your reach. I would be like a trophy.”

            “Wow, Shay, your prepositional phrases are curdling my brain. It’s true that my brother and I are competitive; but if I wanted you, it would have little to do with one-upping my brother and more to do with the life you and I created together. I’m very much a traditional man.”

            “If you say so.”

            “I say so.”

             Then he reached, flicked her nipples, first one then the other. Kevvin was eager to chew them. They were chubby and akin to ripe raspberries. Not the red ones found in supermarkets but the dusky kind he had picked in a Paris vine field once.   

            He noticed a tiny keloid scar on the plump side of her right breast, and touched it. “What happened here?”

            “I had a biopsy.”

            “That must have been scary.”

            “It was. But I’m alright. Turned out to be just an abscess. They drained it.”        

            He nodded, stood and splayed his large hand over her stomach, nearly covering it. “You’re so flat. It’s hard to believe our baby was in there.”
            Our baby. She wouldn’t argue the fact with him as there was probability. “Yoga,” she breathed; then caught her breath back as his gorgeous genitals poked thru the towel and swayed against her belly. All she had to do was move her hand slightly to fondle them or stoop and they’d be in her mouth.         

            “I love your brown skin,” he said in awe, caressing her arms. “I’m going to nibble on every inch of it.”

            He moved his hands around to her butt, squeezing more padding than he remembered. “I see both your hips and your breasts benefited from your maternity. I love that.”

            Next he peeked into her panties and sucked in his breath. “What happened to your bush? It was so nice and fluffy as I recall.”

            “They shaved it when I gave birth. It didn’t grow back.”

            “I like it. I bet the Johns do too.”  They did.

            He took her hands in his. Turned them palm up, then down. “Neat pale manicure. You won’t be drawing blood from my back with these.”

            “Nor would I want to. Are you going to examine my teeth next? Or screw me?”

            “Are you this mouthy with the Johns?”

            “Only when they’re actually in my mouth.”

            “I’d love your lips locked around my cock.”

            He released the towel and she watched its progression to the carpet, showing off what he was all about. 

            “Know what I need, Shay?”

            “A bigger towel?”

            “I need you to keep an open mind.”

            His penis. It was a faux pas to speak of size in these situations. Tacky, really. Okay, let’s just get it out there—it was whopping. And that was not even the main event—the head was blood red!  She had experienced it but hadn’t actually seen it full on. So yes, her mouth gaped some. Had all of that been inside her before?

            “If you’re thinking about our time in your shower…no, Shay,” he said, “I held back for obvious reasons. And yes, Shay, it’s what it looks like.”

            God, I hope so, she thought. Then chided herself for her thoughts.

            “I warn you. Its bite is bigger,” he boasted. “But of course, you’ve got two of these at home.”

            Not quite. But he had to know that.

            Her anticipation must have read like fear on her face.

            “I hope you’re not intimidated,” he said.

            She squeaked:  “It’s a good thing my vagina is insured along with the rest of me.” God knows, Republicans were fighting hard for imminent domination.

            “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try to tamp down my fervor. That helps. I’m not all technique. I do immerse myself at times.”

            “I’m not looking for special treatment. Just do me like you do your whores—within reason.”

            “You have me confused with the Johns. I never frequent whores. I only have lovers and I treat them the same with one agenda—my gratification because I’m a selfish son-of-a-bitch. They can come with me or not. Their pleasure is not uppermost in my mind, and thus I’m always in transition between lovers. So your heart is safe. I assure you, you will return to the Johns, your loathing of me intact. I, on the other hand, might find myself… a bit attached,” he said, lifting her and propelling her face down onto the bed.

            “I’m already vouched for, papers and everything; it would serve us both to keep that in mind.”

            Kevvin pressed her face into the mattress until her words were indecipherable. “You have a smart mouth.” 

            Then he moved to retrieve a condom, rolled it on deftly, and Shay was surprised to see that it fit. She flipped over on her back, skimmed out her panties and assumed a submissive position: knees bent thighs apart.

            Today would test her true grit.

            Kevvin smirked, kneeled between her legs, clutched her hips and pierced her with a bit of small savagery; which she expected and therefore adapted to quickly; because she was nothing if not resilient, anchoring her heels into the mattress to absorb the tiny shocks to her cervix when he arrived there. He was really crammed in with a few inches to spare no matter how hard she strained to invaginate him completely and no matter how hard he pressed.

            “Shay.  Open your eyes. Look at me. I won’t have you fantasizing about those other cocks in your life.”

            That certainly was not what she was doing.

            He smacked her cheek. “Understand?”

            “Yes,” she bit out, irritated that he dared strike her. Yet not surprised. She suspected all along domineering tendencies lurking beneath his self-assured veneer.

            He pushed her thighs flat against the mattress and surged aggressively against her softly yielding boarders. Surely, he tore away dermis!

            She made a tiny sound of protest. He gripped her chin, advising her, “Don’t clinch up.”

            “Actually, I was gritting my teeth.”

            Though she was vulnerable, as any woman would be to a man endowed as Kevvin was, she possessed a sturdy little vagina that stood up to the constant rigors of two hyper-sexed males who didn’t seem concerned that she was with the other mere hours before. Yes, she admitted to herself having two round-the-clock lovers was challenging; and that it was up to her to put in the necessary work to keep their arrangement humming smoothly. She kept her body fit; her Klieg muscles toned; her vault astringed and minty fresh. Plus she ate healthy. And though she had the power of the vagina, she never said no.

            In later years, she’d probably find it exhausting but for now she kept up with the pace. It was to her advantage to do so, receiving as much benefit as the Johns did, having been tutored by them. If she wasn’t now a full-blown nymph, she was at the finishing line!

            Those were her thoughts as Kevvin paused to fashion their bodies into a complex Kama Sutra position that held their mouths a breath apart. But she was only guessing about that. She’d never read the Kama Sutra tome.

            “Better?”

             Awkward, confining, and convoluted, but yes: “Better.”

            Why was he trying to make it better? She didn’t want it better.

             But there it was: Better. Wetter. Hotter. Deeper than she thought possible. She felt rearranged inside.

            “Did you feel that?” he asked, awed. Kevvin, who was rarely awed by anything.

             Yes! God, what was that! Her eyes widen upon him.

            “I think our souls cracked,” he offered.

             Or her womb.  It certainly was something she’d never experienced before.

            “I think I’m injured,” she groaned.

            “No you’re not. You’re using muscles you never had to before.” He kissed her sweetly. “I like that.”
             Suddenly, her cervix began to vibrate into small oscillating voltages.
              "I...I can't take it...." she breathed.
              "Sure you can. Shay, look at me."

            Shay’s eyes stayed entranced until they collapsed in orgasmic sameness. His mouth mashed down on hers in a lusty kiss she would have enthusiastically returned—had she been conscious to do so. 
             She had passed out!

             Shay came to, Kevvin smacking her again.

             She grabbed at his hand. “Stop! Stop hitting me.”   

            “Good, you’re awake.”

            “What happened?”

            “Shay, you fell asleep.” He held a damp cloth to her forehead.

            “I didn’t fall asleep. I must have passed out. How long…?”

            “A few minutes, I don’t know. Damn it, Shay. You scared the hell out of me.”

            “I’m scared myself,” Shay said, taking the cloth from his hand and putting it behind her neck as she sat up against the headboard.

            “Have you ever passed out during sex before?”

             No, not even when she lost her virginity, though she prayed to.

            “No…and don’t flatter yourself.”

            “Are you diabetic?”

              She shook her head.  “I’m perfectly healthy. I just had a wellness check-up last month. May I have a glass of water?”

            “Sure.”

            Kevvin watched Shay judiciously as she swallowed then he left the bed with the glass and came back with his cell, tapping, scrolling, surfing.

            “What are you doing?”

            “Googling fainting during sex. I never had a woman pass out on me before.”

            “What does it say?”

            “Hold on, I’m reading. Hmm…not that…we weren’t doing any erotic asphyxiation play...”

            “Well, read it aloud.”

            “It’s medical jargon. But basically says it’s not unusual to black out from intense orgasms or prolonged, continuous orgasms, and deeply shared orgasms with the partner. Ha! So I can flatter myself! Anyway, unless you experience blackouts each time you climax, you should be okay; if you do, consult your doctor.”

            “Maybe I’m allergic to latex and I had an anaphylactic reaction. I’ve never been in contact with a condom before.”

            “Of course not. They were trying to knock you up. Anyway my rubbers are not made of latex, sweetheart. They don’t make ‘em in latex large enough. Polyurethane.”

            “Oh.”

            He pitched the phone to the bedside table and announced: “I say you’re fine. But we’ll take a break anyway. Come here. Let me hold you.”

            They took the break but he had less than two hours left on their deal and he wasn’t going to let a little thing like fainting get in the way. “We won’t be too ambitious,” he proposed.

           

            “Gotta pee.”

            Kevvin stood vigilant watching her on the toilet.

            “This is not necessary, Kevvin. I’m fine. I’m not going to keel over and hit the floor.”

            “I’m not taking that chance.”

            When it was his time to pee, he called her over from the sink: “Look,” he said as if in wonder. “I’m totally limp. I don’t remember the last time that’s happened.” He clasped her palm around his soft shaft and urged her to aim him,freeing his hands to clutch her breasts whilehis bull tongue licked her lipslike a lollipop. Yes, it was extreme behavior, but seemed so natural between them—as though this was commonfare.

            Oh Kevvin, don’t make me fall for you too. That would be a bit much to handle.

            Time to go home, she took a quick shower, ignoring the fact that he pulled back the curtain and watched her like a hawk its next meal. He toweled her dry. Afterwards, he took the comb from her hand and groomed her hair; then he insisted on re-applying her make-up. “There!” He did a fair job of both. “I’m in film,” he explained. “I know how to do these things.”

            Shay knew given the chance and proximity, if he decided he wanted her in his life that would be her worst nightmare. For now, he was satisfied with perks on the periphery.

             And she thanked the heavens for that.

            “May I have my panties back, please?”

            “I think I’ll keep them as a souvenir.”

            “What a perfect louse you are!”

            “Thanks! Know how the Johns became so close?” Kevvin asked her from the bed as she dressed; sitting back, his arms dangling over his parted knees allowing free range of his majestic genitals. She tried to tug her eyes away but failed miserably.

            “They were frat brothers or something,” she replied, watching him pitch her panties in the air then bring them to his nose.

            “Not initially. I was in the same fraternity, so I know. They met at a sex addiction medical trial. The fools were guinea pigs, receiving experimental injections that didn’t work but probably left them sterile. Of course they bonded; what other crisis did they have in common?”

            Shay raised her brows at that notion. “Because strangers of course befriend more quickly over their miseries?”

            “It’s a sociological fact.”

            “They never told me about these clinical trials.”

       “Because, Shay, they don’t want you to know.”

            “So that’s your theory? They’re sterile?”
       “That’s why I believe Bonnie is mine.”

             She had no retort as she believed it too. 

            “I envy my brother,” Kevvin continued. “You’re married to his best friend but he can lay with you whenever he wants, right?”
        “Whenever he wants...whenever I want.”  Shay stepped into her sandals.
        “Lucky bastard.”

            “I’m the lucky one. To have the love of two extraordinary individuals.”

            “If you ever decide to leave them—”

            “You haven’t been paying attention. They are the only two men I’ve ever been with; the only men I’ve ever loved. And they love me. End of story.”

            “You’ve been with me. And don’t tell me I don’t count.”

            “I’m going to try hard to forget.”

            “I would never share you with another man. That’s insanity.  Do they fight over you?”

            “Not at all. We’re all in accord. There’s no jealousy.”

            “There’s got to be jealousy, Shay. They’re wise enough to hide it from you and from each other.”

            “I’m their woman. We’re exceedingly devoted one to the other. We own who we are.”

            “Bullshit. The Johns are in league; devoted to each other. You’re their toy…their plaything they get to take turns with. That’s not love, Shay. That’s obsession.”

            “This from a guy who admittedly has never been in love.”

            “I’m too jealous to love. I’m a jealous man…an extremely jealous man. Love would destroy me. I wouldn’t wish that on any woman. And you’re right. I’d keep you barefoot and pregnant and decimate any rival, perceived or real.”

            “I’ve heard enough. As I said, I’m going to forget today happened.”

             He laughed out loud. “I don’t see that high wire act happening.  Although, to feel otherwise is to be disloyal to the Johns. I get it.”

            “They love me. I love them.”

            “That’s why you’re here with me…because you love them so much.”

            “I’m here with you because you’re blackmailing me!”

            “Whoa…don’t you have that twisted? Aren’t you the one bribing me? The one that came to me?” 

            “I had no choice—you brute—you have me caught in a bear trap I can’t escape unless I chew off my leg!”

            “Face it. You wanted to impale yourself on my dick again. You just needed an excuse.”

            “You actually hold me in contempt,” she said in wonder. 

            “On the contrary, I’d never hold you in contempt. Not the mother of my child. I hold you in the highest esteem. I just want you to take responsibility for today.”

            “Can I have my panties? I’d like to leave, please.”

            “Come and get them.”

            She started forward but the sight of his loins displayed like naughty cake ornaments. Yes! Damn it! His balls were a dysmorphic marvel...but it was for the glossy red glans penis that her tongue twitched in her mouth. Male organs in general fascinated her. The jezebel in her said go for it! Take them into your mouth. Go ahead—keep putting one foot in front of the other.

            “On second thought, keep the panties. Jerk off on them for all I care.”

            Shay haughtily crossed to the door, swung it open, and stopped dead, almost colliding with the tall, stunning blonde poised to knock. Both women looked surprised.

            “Landra! You got my text.” Kevvin was right behind Shay, pushing her into the hall and pulling Landra into the room with “I’ll be right there.” He closed the door.

            “Landra? Landra Hollingsworth?”

            “Look, Shay—”

            Shay scanned his naked body, dismayed but not because he failed to cover himself.

            Their voices fell to a harsh whisper:

            “Did you plan this? Your ex-lover; your brother’s ex-wife—finding me here compromised so that she can rat me out to the Johns? You are such a two-faced backstabber. I could kill you.”

            “The irony of that would be mind-boggling. Landra, Shay, is also my legal counsel. Her mouth is sealed.”

            “I doubt her attorney-client privileges extend to me!  I know about you two. You’re pathetic to still cling to her skirt tails.”

            “Because you know me so well?” He handed over her panties he had balled in his fist and she stuffed them in her purse.

            “As well as you know me. So, are you going to screw her too?”

            “I wasn’t planning on it. But if it’ll make you bat-shit jealous, I’ll screw her brains out.”

            “Why do you care if I’m jealous or not?”

            “For the same reason you care if I have sex with her.”

            “I don’t. I don’t care. Have at it. We’re nothing to each other.”

            “Except that we’re biological parents to our adorable baby girl, no small consideration, plus we’re hot for each other.”

            “So long, Kevvin.”

            He caught her forearms and gave her a little shake, his genitals bouncing with the motion. “We fucked. And between certain couples that’s a stronger bond than so-called love. I’m jealous of the Johns. I need your reciprocal jealousy to make that justifiable.”

            “That’s crazy talk. Let me go.”

             He held onto her. “Don’t play games with me, Shay.  Truth. The thought of me screwing Landra—tell me, are you jealous or no?”

            “I can’t believe we’re having this ridiculous conversation in the hall with your privates exposed!”

            “Yes or no dammit!”

            “Alright! It stings a bit knowing you’d be with her after what we just did together.  It sounds idiotic to my own ears to even say it. I certainly am not going home and jump in bed with the Johns.”

            He let her go. “Don’t think this is over.”

            “What every handcuffed villain says. Enjoy Landra.  Enjoy your flight back to Paris.”

            “Shay.” Kevvin caught her free hand and forced her fingers around his cock. “See, you can’t even close your fist.”

            “What’s your point?”

            He released her hand. “Something to stick in your mind while you’re trying to forget this day ever happened.”

            Shay Lyn made it home, only a half-hour behind schedule, the tingling still in her hand from Kevvin’s audacious manhood.

           

            Exhausted and tender between her legs, Shay’s first order of business was to luxuriate in a sitz bath. And it was in that bath, that she discovered, much to her surprise and consternation, rage and fury, one of Kevvin’s condoms!  Niched high up, she hadn’t felt a thing. Flushed out by her vaginal cleanse, the rubber was matted with semen and abused by subsequent battering by her treacherous tormentor.

            “Kevvin, you snake! Don’t you dare hang up!”

            “If you would just calm down so I can explain. I see you’ve discovered my little stunt. Sorry, Shay, I didn’t plan it; but the opportunity fell in my lap when you passed out.  It was fate. You’re probably pregnant as we speak. How can we miss when we need just one of my six hundred million bad boys to do the trick?”

            “Trick is right! Why are you doing this to me? Why are you trying to ruin my life?”

            “Ruin?  Hardly that, but you’ll figure it out. I’ll be in touch. Goodbye, Shay.”

            Shay’s outward appearance remained the same. The Johns would not be the wiser. She was the same person she was before she entered that Marriot suite.

            Fresh from her soak, she went looking for them and found them in John Marshall’s office. Their heads were totally engrossed in the computer.

            “Hey, you two. What’s going on?”
            Something to do with Kevvin, I bet. A workable deal, perhaps?

            They spared her a glance. John Cross answered.  “Just a change in some Foundation plans. Nothing to worry your sweet self about.”

            If they only knew where her sweet self had been.

            “Okay. Then I won’t. Dinner ready ‘round seven."

Two and one makes three on a mat

John Marshall took her yeast malady in stride with a kiss and a smile. “I can wait. We can do other things, sweetheart.”

            “Like cuddle you mean?”

            “Uh yeah…that too.”

            True to character, John Cross reacted adversely to this unexpected nuisance. He made it clear in the past: he was not the cuddling type. Cuddling made him hornier.

            “It’s a female problem I know; but, baby, how did this yeast thing happen?”

            Shay tsked-tsked. “Bummer, right? I have the cleanest twat in Houston. I douche myself night and day. And that appears to be the problem—I keep myself too clean it turns out. I’m washing away all the good bacteria or fauna as Dr Lang calls it—and making my birth canal vulnerable to infection.”

            He sighed exasperatedly, “Thankfully, there are medicines that can clear this thing up in a day or two. Right?”

            She shook her head. “Sorry. No meds: plain old yogurt, applied inside my vagina twice a day for seven days.”

            “Yogurt?” he whined. “Seven days?”

            “John, you’re acting like a spoiled child. After Bonnie was born, we had to wait six weeks.”

            “Don’t remind me. Seven days seems like an eternity now.”

            “But look on the bright side: you get to operate the plunger.”

             His eyes twinkled.  John Cross was a playful lover. His favorite play thing was stuffing her vagina. His cock, for sure; but for kink, a soft peppermint stick. His favorite foreplay was to suck the red stripes off while they lay soixante-neuf. She delighted in the play too.

            Shay Lyn had come to a monumental decision. She had thought of a way to soothe her non-guilty conscience and reward the Johns at the same time. And today Saturday was an excellent occasion for execution of her gambit.

            Weather-wise, it was a horrible day for anything else.

            Dark clouds hovered in the troposphere. An electrical storm rolled into Houston with gale warnings. Rain flooded the thoroughfares and winds brought down trees and roof tops. They garaged their cars least they be swept away. Floods and landslides were immobilizing parts of the city. It was the worse rainstorm in Texas history. There was an eerie howling outside the manor that completed the gloomy setting.

            They had plans for today including an appointment at the photographer’s for their first family portrait, postponed till the following weekend.

            Around noon, Shay popped in the Rec Room where the guys were playing 9-ball.

            “It would be a great time to hit the gym,” Shay suggested.  “When’s the last time the three of us got our fitness on together?”

            They couldn’t remember.

            “Right. So change then and I’ll meet you gentlemen downstairs,” she said gaily.

            The forty-by-forty gym was a fitness buff’s wet pipe dream.

            Equipped with two of everything: including treadmills, ellipticals, exercise bikes, workbenches, rowers; large black mats, barbells, pull up and chin up bars. And for Shay Lyn, John Marshall had installed yoga and Pilates gear.

            The communal shower itself could accommodate six.

            After almost ninety minutes, they were ready to throw in the towel.

            “Hey!” she called to the Johns as they lumbered toward the stairs. “The shower down here is more than adequate for the three of us. Care to join me?” She pulled her tube top over her head and wiggled out of her shorts. And was bare.

            The Johns exchanged looks, shrugged, stripped down to skin, stepped in the cavernous depths of the amenities equipped shower and turned on their taps; then turned their lusty attention to Shay.

            “Come on. Stop gawking. You act like you’ve never seen my naked body before.”

             Giggling, Shay hung soap-on-a-rope around their necks. “Bathe me and I’ll return the favor.”

            “Shay, what are you playing at?” John Marshall inquired with a quirk of his brow.

            “I’d like to know that myself,” John Cross added.

            She looked from one to the other: her boldly hung gladiators. “Do I have to spell it out? You told me, John Marshall, all I had to do was say the word. Well, I’m saying the word—threesome.”

             John Cross frowned: “Shay, are you sure?”

            “What does a girl have to do around here to get some extra attention?”

            “We had no idea you wanted...this.”

            “Well, I do!  I mean—am I the only one in this relationship with unrequited fantasies?”

            “What about the seven days…?” John Marshall queried.

            “I’m fine,” she rejoined. “Besides, it’s day five. Close enough.” Then she pressed herself to John Cross and kissed him with open mouth lust; shifting, doing the same to John Marshall. She observed their cocks were way ahead of them.

            Shay turned, faced forward. “Wash my back, please? And my front?”

            She was amused, watching them divide the labor of cleansing her body and she hoped they were not as muddled when it came time for fun and games on the mat.

            Clean and dried, all—John Cross carried her to the largest of the mats where John Marshall drew her tube top down over her head and eyes, effectively cutting off her vision, while John Marshall positioned a towel beneath her.

            “I’m a little nervous, my loves. What is my part?”

            The men chuckled, John Marshall saying: “Oh, you’ll know.”

            As thunder and lightning fulminated outside and the winds screamed at the mansion, the Johns settled Shay on her back with her limbs crooked and splayed. John Cross kneeled at her head, whispering I love you before his mouth descended upon hers. But she found it difficult to concentrate on his kiss when John Marshall was generating chaos and commotion further south with his mouth.

            For two guys who never had a threesome together, they were perfectly synchronized. At one point the lights flickered off but they were too engrossed to care.

            Shay begged them to stop when her body was surfeit of pleasure…and hammering cocks, one behind the other.

            They removed her makeshift blind fold, signifying it was over. “Oh, my—the lights went out!”

            “No kidding? We didn’t notice. So, what do you think?” John Cross asked, as they lay on opposite sides of her, caressing her skin. “Too much?”

            “Would you be offended if I said ‘yes’?” She grinned, stretching in superfluity.

            “What was your favorite thing, besides the mind-blowing orgasms, of course?” John Marshall teased.

            The Do-Si-Do…The Roll Away…U-turn back…See Saw the Taw. It was like all the ins and outs of a square-dance.

            “All of it. I think I short-circuited a couple of times.”

            “In other words, this experience as glorious as it was… is for the archives,” John Marshall concluded.

            “Yes, my Johns, once is quite enough for this girl.”

           

(Book One is concluded.  Book Two: Has Kevvin impregnated Shay again? Will he win her away from the Johns? )

© 2015 Her Two Johns by Phyllis O Scott.