Her Two Johns by Phyllis O Scott / Book Two (PART FIVE)

“Tomorrow. You and Bonnie. Pack light. Everything you need will be available to you in France. We’ll have a marvelous life, you and me and the kids. I own a lovely countryside cottage outside of Lyon complete with a lake and stables. We’ll raise them there."

            “And if I don’t go along with your crazy scheme?"

            Kevvin came to his feet and faced her.  “I am well prepared to force your hand, so to speak. First, Landra is standing by with an order from the circuit court judge for paternity testing on Bonnie to be served if I give the word. Then I’ll take you to court and sue you and the Johns for custody.  I’ll win. When this baby is born, we repeat the process.”

            “You agreed if I sleep with you, you wouldn’t do this…” her voice cracked.

            “Yeah. That’s the old deal. Here’s the new deal. The pussy’s divine and worth flying cross-continental for, God knows, but I want the whole woman because, you understand, she happens to be the mother of my kids. I am already cheated out the birth of my first. Then Lil Bonnie. That’s not going to happen with the child you're carrying.”

            “What you’re demanding is unconscionable for obvious reasons; Even if I could manage to leave the Johns, I can’t leave my mother behind in an institution.”

            “Your mother doesn’t recognize who you are. She’s getting the best care right where she is. Of course, I’ll take over the financial responsibility.”

            “What do you mean ‘take over’? Her care is paid for.”

            “Oh, the John Cross endowment; sweetheart, that money ran out several years ago. John Cross has been personally picking up the tab since then.”

            “That can’t be true. The hospital would have informed me! He would have told me. What do you know, anyway?” she bit back.

            “Everything that's none of my business. Don’t underestimate me. My adversaries always come to that mistake."

            “You consider me an adversary. Good. For a minute there, I thought you might be developing a fondness for me.”

            “You named our baby for your mother. Bonnie Hodgkin. One of the famous DeBurgo Girls. I know everything about you, Shay. Just about. For instance, are you aware your father lives in Paris now?  Jake DeBurgo, right?  He’s remarried…with children. Yep. You’ve got teenage siblings: a brother and a sister. Time for a reconciliation, don’t you think? Perhaps a father-daughter duo in your future?”

            This revelation rocked Shay back on her heels. She had ceased all contact with the man that sired her and drove her mother to overdose and succeed only in scrambling her brains.

            “You’re cruel to do this.”

            “The cruelest. But compassionate.”

            “No. I won’t do it. Why would I? You can’t make me.” She said with the defiance of recalcitrant child.  Only she didn’t stamp her feet or stick her thumb in her mouth! She wanted to stand up to him even if she failed to win.

            “Yes, I can. And you will. Or I up the ante.”

            “More threats?”

            “Try me. You want to have our baby in prison?”

            “Prison?”

            “Bigamy, Shay. Ring a bell?”

            “Oh, God, no." Shay turned her back on him. "How could you possibly know that?"

            “I don’t know what the bigamy laws are in Georgia but here in Texas, it’s a felony carrying a sentence of two to ten. That’s in years. You can share a cell with fellow bigamist Warren Jeffs. You married my brother a month before you strolled down the aisle to John Cross. John Cross doesn’t know that, does he?”

             Her eyes teared. “No, he doesn’t.”

            “What were you thinking?”

            “I love them both. I wanted to marry them both! Is that so wrong? So, your brother and I flew to Las Vegas ostensibly on a business trip and married there in secret.”

            “I’m sorry, Shay. But it has to be this way. My way.”

            “Your backup plan is—you send me to jail, Kevvin?”
             "Look at me, Shay."
              She did a half-turn, eyeing him spitefully.

            “If I can’t have you, well….forget about that. I hold the cards. I won’t lose you. I won’t lose my children. Because you’re married to my brother legally, he will be the presumed father not John Cross, and I’d have to bring a paternity suit within four years of Bonnie’s birth not sixteen years as you would have me. That’s cold but just Texas law, sugar. My hands are tied.  I’m forced to renege on our agreement. You understand that, don’t you?”

            “And you understand I can never forgive you if you do this.”

            “A baseless threat.”

            Kevvin’s cell pealed. “It’s Landra…Landra, how are things going on your end? That good, eh? Stay put. We’re on our way.”

            “On our way where?”

            “The mansion.”

            “Landra’s at the mansion?”

            “What? You thought I was kidding about the order? She’s there to serve it. But she doesn’t have to if you get on that plane with me.  It’s up to you.  What’s it going to be, Shay? Prison...” he moved his hands up and down like a justice scale “...or Paris?”

            “You win.”

            “Let’s get our daughter.”

Tears for drying

Landra Hollingworth. Madam litigator. A radiant beauty who looked more like a lingerie model than a lawyer. And the hour-glass figure with the eighteen-inch waist was just as Kevvin described. Uncontestable.

            Shay could see John Marshall with her.  Could envision her as his wife. They made a commanding pair.  Both stately and gorgeous. What went wrong with such perfection?

            “So, we meet again?” Landra asked, flashing her Miss Universe smile, and offering her slender, model’s hand to Shay who reciprocated.

            “But not properly introduced. But I’ve heard much about you.”

             Her eyes swept over Shay’s pregnant figure. “Same here. I see why Kevvin is fascinated. And John dear, she’s darling. And very pretty.  I approve your choice.”

            Shay resented being called “pretty”, especially with the anti-descriptive, condescending “very”.  She always expected a pat on the head, literally or figuratively, for being what she shouldn’t be. Pretty.

            “As if I needed your approval, Landra,” John Marshall returned dryly, opening his arms to Shay who threw herself into them, sobbing, “I love you so much. I’m sorry…for everything. This baby I'm having is probably Kevvin’s… he blackmailed me into sleeping with him…he tricked me…and now he’s threatening to expose us for bigamy and I’ll go to jail and you’ll go to jail too, if I don’t leave with him. Please tell John Cross how sorry I am and that I love him.”

            “We love you too and…we’ll get you back, Shay sweetheart, I promise.”

            "Yeah yeah yeah. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, brother. She’s not furniture you can repossess; and she’s not on some French furlough,” Kevvin said, pulling Shay away from John Marshall and back to his side. “What you can do is give Shay the damn divorce. John Cross can get an annulment if he chooses. His claim on her is invalid.”

            “John Cross is in Dallas as we speak being subjected to a battery of fertility tests. We’ll know soon whether he’s able to father children and then your goose may be cooked, Kevvin. For good.”

            “If that’s the case, and Landra will validate that it is, we’ll return and settle this legally once and for all. I’m a fair man. I want only what is mine. I have her now and possession is ninety-nine tenths of the law. Right, Landra?”

             He turned to Shay and wiped away the tears on her cheeks. “Ready to pack your things?”

            “No. But I suppose I have no choice.”

            “Then let's get to it. I’ll come with you. We’ll leave these Exs alone to reminisce old times,” Kevvin said, saluting them. “Landra, I’ll be in touch.”

            “Shay, I love you, darling!” John Marshall called after her.

             Out of earshot, Kevvin said: “They were crazy about each other once upon a time, you know. Want to bet those two get back together down the road? When he realizes you're not coming back?”

            “Don’t say that.”

            “Either way, you won’t care. You’re going to forget you were ever with the Johns. I’m going to see to it, Shay.”

            “And how do you propose to do that?”

            “By keeping you sated and deliriously happy, my darling. What else?”
            "Locking me away in darkness, chained to the crossties of your cellar?"

            Back in his Houston apartment, Kevvin shared: “This is the most content I’ve been in a long while. You bring me peace, Shay. We’ll have a Paris wedding in the Spring.”

            Shay rose from the pit bed and strode to the picture window, pulled back the curtain and stared up into the dark heavens, not quite sure what she was looking for. No moon tonight. Just halogen street lights.

            Kevvin continued playing with their daughter Bonnie—whom he couldn’t stop looking at and chortling to, to say ‘dada’.        

            “She’s lovely and thank God she’s mine,” Kevvin remarked of his offspring.

            “I’ve had one too many weddings, don’t you think? Let’s not go there.”

            “This will be my first. You took the training wheels off and now you’re with a real man. We’ll marry. We’ll never be apart. Be loyal and true. Never be unfaithful to one another. You will share equally of my wealth, holdings, and properties which are extensive. I’ll add your name to everything I own. You’ll never want for anything.”

            “I don’t know how I feel about you yet. Or what I should feel.”

            “You love the sex.”

            “I love the sex. But what about true love?”

            “Baby, I don’t know what that is. Or if it exists outside of Fairytale books. What you had with the Johns wasn’t love. It was a neurosis. You and I—our minds are clear going in. Free from any such delusions or deceptions.  And I’ll do you one better. I’m going to protect you from harm; supply everything your heart desires. And I’m going to take excellent care of you, Shay. Give you all the affection and all the sex you can abide. All in all, that’s not a bad deal.”       

            “Prison is looking better all the time,” she said tongue-in-cheek.

            “Whatever I have to do, you’ll never go back to the Johns.”

            She probably never would. But still—

            “My babies may not prove to be yours; then what?"

            Kevvin clicked off the lamp, darkening the room, and climbed out the bed. He joined Shay at the window and wrapped his arms about her distended tummy and kissed her nape. “Then I abandon you and your brood to the mean Paris Streets to fend for yourselves. Because, hey, that’s the kind of guy I am.”

            God, he could love this woman.  He had loved before. Landra. But she had ripped his heart out with the abortion and he swore never to love again. Never to abandon his heart and expose his soul to a woman’s vagaries. To be sure, women were marvelous creatures. And he enjoyed them at the end of his cock…but no further. Until Shay.

            He turned Shay in his arms and kissed her stupid.  “Now, don’t you feel bad asking me that? You look adorable in this. But can we take it off?”

            She raised her arms and he slipped her nightgown over her head.

            “How about these?” She obediently stepped out of her bloomers.

            “This is how I want you waiting for me when I come home at the end of the day. Not a stitch on.”

            “I know you would do the right thing and ship me back to the Johns. Right?”

            “Wrong. Your life will wind down a totally different path—with me and future babies.”

            “I like the direction I was headed,” she said.

            “You were standing still.”

            Shay had to at least feign an objection. “Not true. I had a wonderfully progressive life.”

            “You were a captive in a fortress where you were hardly more than a sex slave. Maybe you can’t see the forest for the trees.  But they were using your body like food for wolves; how many servings a day—three, four, five? With no concern for the abuse of your body? And you allowed it.”

            “I wanted it.”

            “You were brainwashed. Your body was brainwashed.”

            “Stop saying that.”

            “Face it—John Cross, the love of your life, whored you out to his friend, my brother, whose lust was even more unquenchable than his. My brother could go through three or four women a day in college. His wife lived a nightmare. She couldn’t satisfy him. I stepped in to save her.”

            “They have a condition they’re grappling with.”

            “A condition? Is that what they’re calling it?”

            “And you? You’re one to talk. How many times will you abuse my body in a day? At least, they love me.”

            “I don’t doubt they love you in their own perverted way but, Shay, you were living a lie. How is that free? Your talent was biting dust because the Johns selfishly kept you constrained.  I intend to nurture your singing gift.”

            “My very own Svengeti. Oh yeah, that’s what I need—a puppeteer.”

            “Svengeti was misguided. I intend to do right by you. Your name will be household fare in France. All of Europe.”

            “I don’t like the travel associated with that life.”

             "No travel, baby. You’ll perform in your own entertainment nightclub I’m going to build for you. People will come from all over the globe to see you. You’ll be famous.”

            “Thanks. But no thanks. I’ve always been my own person, making my own way.”

            “Which person is that, exactly, Shay? The woman-child with daddy-abandonment issues? The dreamer that mired herself in her friend’s business that barely turned a profit year after year? Or the coward who hid out in third-world countries too gutless to face life in the real world? Or perhaps it’s even the freewheeling good-natured sprite content to bounce betwixt three lovers unto perpetuity?”

            “Gee whiz, Kevvin, you’ve got me all figured out.”       

            “Not all. You’re still a challenge. Like where does Janae Ware fit in your life?”

            “Janae? What about her?”

            “I don’t like her.”

            “You don’t even know her!”

            “That chic’s toxic. And immoral. She’ll sleep with anything in pants.  She was screwing your boyfriend Leonard Something behind your back.” At Shay’s horrified look, he added: “Why do you think he hung around as long as he did? You weren’t giving it up but she was. You know what’s funny? You were downstairs leading yoga routines and she was upstairs doing a routine on lover boy. Hilarious.”

            “That’s enough!”

            “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Good thing her company relocated her to Germany and she’s out of our hair for good.”

            “Next you’ll be telling me the Johns married me to produce an heir for a billion dollar score.”

            Kevvin wrinkled his brow. “I question their motives for such a bizarre setup. I’ve been saying that since day one. Haven’t you been listening?”

            “No. I tuned you out. They love me without reserve. And I love them. Got that? No matter the outcome with this situation, I will always love them.”

            Kevvin turned Shay to face him. “You can love them all you want from afar.  In time, that love will fade because what good is it to you? And you’ll have me whom you will crave. You will learn to live with it as I will. It ain’t scraps. I’ll take it. For now.”

            “For now?”

            “Oh, if I do my job right...in quick order you’ll forget what the Johns look like.”

            “Never.”

            He glanced around. “True. You might need some help with that. Where’s your phone?”

            “In my purse, why?”

            Kevvin snatched up her clutch from the window seat and took out her LG6 and started tapping on it.

            She was alarmed. “What are you doing?”

            “Deleting the Johns’ photos.”

            Shay rushed to his jacket hanging on the door and removed his iphone.  Tap tap tap. “Two can play that game…who is this, Kevvin?”

            Back by his side, she indicated an outdoor selfie leaning against the hood of his Porsche with his arm encircling a fetching brunette. And another snapshot, same woman in a G-string, wrapped around a stripper pole.         

            “Wait. She’s looks familiar….”

            “This is juvenile,” Kevvin said, taking his phone and hers tossing them on the window seat.

            “Who is she, Kevvin?”

             He scratched his head. “Marielle, a Paris model.”

            “Then hooking must be her sideline.  She was in John’s hotel room on Valentines last year. You arranged it yourself. He told me.”

            “Also, in the interest of full disclosure—she’s my roommate.”

            “Roommate?  She lives with you?”

            “At my Paris apartment.  I have several homes. I don’t live like a monk, Shay. I have needs.”

            “You said you don’t share your women.”

            “We hooked up after John rejected her services. The night was paid for”—he shrugged—“I took advantage.  She’s good at what she does. I let her stay.  It was more convenient.”

            “Do you have feelings for her?”

            “Feelings, Shay? There’s no reason to be jealous. She’s a courtesan, secure in that position, who will do anything for a price.  For her it’s a job.  I indulge in her services.  I’m not trying to change Marielle. I pay her well for exclusivity to her body.”  He grinned.  “It’s not charity work on either of our parts.”

            “Get rid of her.”

            “Done. With a generous severance with your permission.”

            “The generouser the better. Any others?”

            He kissed her. “I don’t need others. Not when I have you just where you want to be.”

            “On the ropes?”

            “No.”

            “Over a barrel?”

            “No.”

            “Up the creek without a paddle?”

            He shook her. “You know damn well where—out of prison. And I’ll hold that over your head until the statute of limitations runs out, if need be.”

            “Ten years?”

            “Seven. But who’s counting?”

            “Me?” 

Later:

            “Shay?”

            “Can I please get some sleep?”

            “I have a confession, Shay.”

            “I hope it’s one that I can hold over your head.”

            “I have white liver.”

            “Gee, I would never have known.”

            “My brother’s DNA runs in my veins after all.”

            “Thanks for the non-confession.”

            “The difference is—unlike my brother, I didn’t view it as a problem and I sure hell did not seek to fix myself with potentially harmful chemicals. Instead I tried to do some good with it. The truth is: I gave sperm donations to infertility clinics, Shay. A whole lot of prolific sperm.”

            She was fully awake now. She turned to face him. “You mean there might be hundreds, thousands of little Kevvins running around the globe?”

            “Most likely. That’s one of the reasons you and my girls are so important to me.”

            “I feel for you,” Shay said, sincerely. “That must be awful, not knowing. Not ever knowing.”

            “I understood that going in. Still…your concern arouses me.”

            “Forget it, Lil Bonnie’s in the bed with us.”

            “I suppose we can transfer Lil Bonnie to the floor in her car seat.”

            “Or we could take the floor ourselves.”

            “I thought you didn’t like the floor.”

            “My knees don’t like the floor.”

            “The floor is only a convenient inconvenience. Where’s that Kama Sutra book?”

            “Under my pillow.”

            “Bonnie’s fast asleep in her own little corner of the bed; plenty of room to grind ourselves into powdered dust without squashing her…because you and I, my darling, are going to defy the laws of impenetrability and occupy the same space at the same time. Simple physics.”

            “You are going to penetrate me though…”

            “I hope you bring that wit of yours into our bed every time.”

             She balled her fist and struck his chest. “Will sex be your answer to everything?”

            “Depends on the question. But yeah, pretty much. Get used to the idea.”

Later, in the wee hours, snuggled up in the pit bed

“A hundred orgasms a week—you and me, Shay.”

            “Must we have so many?” Shay yawned, nodding off. She was just from a warm, lulling shower, freshly cleansed, inside and out.

             Kevvin laughed. “I exaggerate. However, your needs plus my needs…do the math.”

            “I think my needs are overstated.”

            He nudged her thighs apart, and sopped his finger inside her, while twirling the pad of his thumb on her clitoris. She was moist getting moisterer. Shay shuddered, clamping her thighs on his hand. Ahhh, that felt good but she was climaxed out for one night!

            “Shouldn’t we be sleeping? We have an early flight tomorrow.”

            “So…in actuality you were meeting the Johns needs?”

            “We don’t have to compete with the Johns. We’ve got our own thing going. And it’s wondrously special.”

            Her response made him happy. He was making some headway into her shell, finally.

          “You think so, huh?” 

            He withdrew his finger, sucked it, and thought: Sumptuous. Should be siphoned and bottled.

            Shay assured him: “Look what happened between us earlier. I couldn’t breathe. And I almost fainted again. I’ve never felt that kind of near-death intensity before. Have you?”

            “Shay, there’s something you need to know.”

            She groaned. “Don’t tell me you have…then why aren’t you with Ms Paragon Orgasm now?” she demanded.

            “Baby, I haven’t. Ever before.”

            “Then what?”

            “Come closer into my arms. Let me hold you.”

             She wiggled as close as she could get and lay her head on his chest. He smoothed her hair down, her curls still damp from shower.

             Should he take this tranquil occasion to tell her the truth? Tell her the truth about the Johns? That she was not the first. Nor the second in their putrid, toxic game of three-for-all.

             Before Shay was recruited, John Cross attempted to ensnare his two fiancés into a three-way relationship with John Marshall. The guys had a blueprint. First John Cross would hook the woman by gaining her trust, giving her a ring and promising her marriage, love, children, money, and devotion, if she would accept John Marshall into their relationship as her lover. The Johns were not successful. The women did what most sensible women would do; they said no way, called them perverts, and fled.

            The comrades were adamant about living the three-way life style. After taking the monogamous route to love and failing that, they thought they’d give their fantasy a shot.  They revisited their 1999 Manifesto. They were even willing to kill Kevvin if he stood in their way. As for Shay—she was perfect for their scheme—an old lost love of John Cross. Virtuous. Yes, virtuous, noble, and innocent by their standards.           

            Despite his avowals to Shay, Kevvin did not doubt his brother or John Cross loved her; as much as they could love anyone else besides each other. Not that they were gay. Not in the literal sense. They love fucking women; but they bonded best with each other’s mind and conservatorship. They looked out for each other’s interests. If there was ever a choice between one of them and Shay—Shay would be sacrificed, and on her solitary way.  Sure, they’d mourn her lost as they probably were doing this very minute.

            One day soon, he would tell Shay how they manipulated the hell out of her. Ran head games.  Played her like a Stradivarius.  And endlessly sexed her body and mind until she became addicted to them. Then had her raped for their nefarious purposes. When he said they wanted her pregnant for the inheritance money, he knew better. They wanted the baby to anchor her to them. But they had to have viable sperm to achieve that goal. They were essentially using Shay to run their own field tests. Bedding her was a two-tier project. Not exactly clinical, but certainly not solely for the pleasure of it though their desire and explicit lust for her could not be argued.

            They wanted Shay. And they wanted a baby to keep Shay. When their maneuvers failed, his brother turned to Kevvin who was proven to have biologically fathered hundreds of children about the globe; he was even featured in TIME for his proliferation. What did one more matter to him?

            Yes, this entire Kabuki theatre that was her life, Kevvin would reveal to Shay.  
            But not now. 
            Not when everything he wanted was falling into place. And she appeared to have accepted her fate.  At least resigned to her fate in Paris with him. So let her steep in her Johns fools paradise for the time being. Besides, why break the heart of a virtuous woman whose only fault was to love too much. And perhaps too many?
            "Okay...the baby's stopped fretting, she's fed, and sleeping. So tell me already: what is it I should know?”

            “It’ll keep till Paris.”

            “Must I shake the bushes for more mistresses?”
            "No. But Paris is shaking the bushes for terrorists as we speak. Our flight's been suspended until further notice."
            "That's okay. I'm sure we can find something to occupy ourselves..."

            Shay awoke to Kevvin lying perpendicular to her body, his hands kneading her butt cheeks apart.

            She lifted her head, bleary-eyed. “Hey, what are you doing?”

            “Searching for pin worms.”

            “I don’t have pin worms. Stop that.” She reached back, slapped at his hands. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

            “It makes me want to plunder and pillage. Can I just ease my pinky in slow-like?”

             She flipped over on her back away from his prying fingers.  “There’ll be none of that nonsense. We have to agree to some boundaries in this relationship.”

            So, they had a relationship. Good to hear.
            "Did you share boundaries with the Johns?"
           "We had a tacit agreement on a few things, yes."
            "I want to know you better than either of the Johns has ever known you, Shay."
            "You already do."
            "Maybe. But I need that one ace in the hole."
            "You are plum awful."

            “I think I’m realizing my first fetish. Shay, I’m utterly transfixed by your taut little keister.  You’re so…unmolested… and so damn beautiful there.”

            “Jesus. The first time a man calls me ‘beautiful’ and it’s for my no-man's-land.”

             He sat up. “I can’t believe that. You’ve never been called beautiful?"

            “Only by my mother and she doesn’t count.”

            “The Johns never told you that you were beautiful?” Kevvin was disbelieving.

            “No. Not once between the two of them that I can recall. They had other more erotic adjectives to adorn me with but not that specific word.”

            “Those egotistical bastards!”

            “They made me feel beautiful, if that counts.”

            “Shay, don’t defend them. That was just another way to suppress you. I could pound their faces with my fists. Come here, mother of my children.”

            Shay folded her naked body between his gapped knees, and he pressed her head against his chest and brushed his hand over her sleep-mussed hair.
           “Shay, you’re beautiful. Baby, you’re so beautiful to me. Every inch. Every portal. I can’t keep my hands off you. I want to be a part of you...of all of you. I want to be in there—" he palmed her mound and with his other hand, placed it over her heart "--and in here.  Let me in, please. I will remind you how beautiful you are every single day of our lives. Do we have a solid deal, Shay Lyn DeBurgo?”

            “We have a solid deal, Kevvin Leon Marshall-Bey the third.”

           

Finished…for now.

Rev.phyonescott.blogspot.com/10-6-15         

THE JOHNS’ COLLEGE MANIFESTO

The Johns’ master plan started when they were frat brothers at UT Austin and dusted off over time. They had much in common: their first names, their good looks, their sports interests, their ambitions, and a secret disorder between them—an insatiable sexual appetite. John Marshall was oversexed. John Cross was hyper-sexed. Not exactly the same thing—one was physical, one was mental—but the same permanent remedy was required: chemical castration. (No thanks!)

And saltpeter in their food was ineffective and made them sick to their stomachs. Taking part in a Clinical Study did not help at all.

For them it was a vicious cycle of necessary evils: pornography, masturbation, sexual high jinks with hookers, sluts, and one-night-stands. None of it emotionally satisfying. They soon tired of that lifestyle.

What they needed in their lives was stability. But they could never keep girlfriends. Or wives. The wear and tear on the female psyche was too much, not to mention her genitalia. A woman would have to have a cast-iron vagina to withstand such penile punishment.

The Johns were closing in on 40.  It was time to act on the plan they’d had since college, but never summoned the nerve to implement.

“Any brainless redneck hillbilly can kidnap a woman, imprison her in a basement or cage, drug her, rape and beat her into submission. Then land in prison. No. We’re smarter than that. We are not about entrapment, but free will, artfully and lovingly nudged.  Our plan must be victimless. Ideally, we would recruit a nymphomaniac whose sex drive would match ours. But she could not be trusted to be faithful.  We need a decent enough woman to share our beds, to share our home, to love, and love both of us, be faithful, and stay. And when she gets pregnant, one of us will marry her no matter the biological father, no matter the DNA.  Such a woman will not be readily available. She must be lured and persuaded. We must use guile, deceit, deception, lies, manipulation, vows of love and sex ploys to ensnare her. Therefore, only one of us will initiate her, train her body to obey, and her mind to follow.”

Thus begins, John Marshall-Bey’s treatise.

The “unvictim” must fall madly in love with one and give herself to the other because her lover requests it. And requests it so often that it becomes routine and she cannot separate the two.  Her love then encompasses the two because she cannot divide them in her mind and her body cannot discern who is who because the orgasms dovetail wondrously. It’s all the same to her. And when she is co-joined by both men, her pleasure is doubled beyond what her body and mind can process, she will accept it as a natural progression of their love. Her body learns by rote to crave the Johns. This then becomes her addiction.  The two feed her addiction, separately and together, also feeding their white liver, thus creating an unending codependency that’s self-perpetuating and self-satisfying.  And because the Johns love each other and love her…and because their relationship is symbiotic, there is never jealousy or “ownership”.  No alpha male.