A/N: Charlaine Harris makes all of this possible by building the universe for us. She owns all rights to her characters. Sookie POV.
This is explicit, very! Do not read any further if you don't like double lemon meringue.
MariaTerese has again provided beta version editing. I wish she lived nearby so I could give her the big hug she deserves.
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Woodside c. 1979, Graduation, Part I
The light streaming in through the shuttered windows was glorious. It was another dazzling Northern California day in June. She was reveling in the temporary sensation of freedom, her coursework completed, her internship done, and the pressures of domesticity relieved by the new staff Sven had insisted she hire. The silk sheets in which she lay were a twisted mess, the only evidence of last night's activities as she was alone in bed, the comforter and the gown she'd worn somewhere on the floor. It was time for a long, hot shower.
Finding a lumpy path of discarded male clothing on the floor, Sookie followed it to their newly remodeled bathroom with the multiple sinks and shower stalls, a unique expansive indoor whirlpool tub obtained by Sven from some New York clients and the desperately needed additional closet space. She unhappily picked up the soiled clothing and soaking towels from the colorful Mexican clay tile flooring, gritting her teeth as her feet sluiced through the damp puddles. Someone was going to get a spanking, again. Dumping the mess into the nearest basket, she sprinkled her favorite Yuzu bath salts into the bottom of the tub and started the water running, deciding instead to soak away her aches while rereading Jane Austen's masterpiece. She had nothing to do today but relax and enjoy the day. Graduation ceremonies were Sunday and although they'd have out-of-town company arrive over the weekend to stay, she would have all day today before Tara's flight landed tonight. Sinking into the foamy water, she hoped the dogs had been let back in the house before everyone took off for work. If not, she'd have to go track them down with the leashes as they never came to her call, only Sven's. It was a frustrating truth that she pushed away to concentrate on the brain candy that was Jane and her characters.
A knock at the bedroom door alerted her that she was not alone in the house. She'd nearly fallen asleep and the water was tepid now. She toweled-off and slipped into her pink terrycloth robe. "Coming!" she called. She noted that the heated flooring she'd switched on had dried most of the puddles left after the showers.
Joran could be heard quietly grumbling on the other side of the door as she approached. Her other brother-in-law had begun living with them recently at her insistence that Sven be relieved of at least one financial burden he'd assumed, unnecessarily in her opinion. He'd finally agreed and they'd installed Joran in Eric's old guest bedroom at the other end of the house. He'd seemed to have no problem with their arrangements, as he'd seen it all from a young age with his own parents.
Opening the door, he was holding the keys to her car. Evidently his bike wasn't working and he needed to borrow her transportation to make it to the admin job he'd taken to cover his extra expenses. She nodded, and then grabbed his shoulder to stop him, inquiring about the dogs. Assured they were inside and safe, she watched him fly down the stairs and soon heard the front door slam.
Trying to remember everyone's schedule for the day, she dressed and placed a call to Tara to confirm she was still arriving on time, but was met with the annoying tones of their answering machine. She hated the machines, and wondered if Sven's certainty that portable phones would someday be as ubiquitous as watches would make the things extinct, much as buggy wheels and other sure-bet industries had gone the way of the dinosaurs. She just couldn't envision Dick Tracy-type phone wrist-watches, which was the only point of reference she had for what Sven had described as almost a given in the next fifteen or so years. Whatever. All she knew was that he was beginning to invest a lot of money in new technology being generated in an enclave of geeks that had grown out of some Stanford-funded research efforts. The Valley Industrial Park had been leased by several development firms when Stanford ran into financial problems years ago, and now quite a few firms, notably Varian and Hewlett-Packard, were siphoning off the best graduates of the University and settling them into cubicles in their low-profile steel and glass shelters to drive a new type of revolution.
As long as Sven made money for them, she'd focus on making sure the domestic side was humming along as he preferred. They'd acknowledged him as the head of their family unit, and he was more than satisfied with his role.
It was time for her check-in with him about when he'd be back. At least the days of the carrier pigeon were long-gone, thank god. His secretary answered, assuring her that while he was busy on a conference call he would call her as soon as he was free. She sighed, missing him even though he'd kissed her goodbye this morning before racing out for a breakfast meeting. After he'd left, she'd turned over to snuggle into Eric, hoping she could convince him to delay going into his new office at Berkeley. Whispering into his ear that the traffic over the Oakland Bay Bridge would be dismal, he'd groaned, but insisted he had an audience with the department chair and it was a shirty idea to show up late when he was the one who'd requested the time. Since she couldn't disagree with his logic, she'd given up and returned to sleep as he also made his early morning ablutions and departed in a rush.
Lazing her way into the kitchen for some toast and juice, her thoughts drifted pleasantly to how their present living arrangements had finally been hammered out. It had taken a lot of tears and yelling, but as she faced the daunting task of jump-starting her professional life, at least her personal life was running smoothly. The success of the current situation was due in no small part to the continued timely interventions of her dear mothers-in-law. She loved those ladies and thought again they must be saints-in-training for putting up with Ander. He was such an a-hole. Sven had wanted to bar him from their house when she'd told him what the moms had found out, but she wouldn't tolerate another family rift. So, he was flying in for the weekend while they planned to drive from Salt Lake, but he wouldn't be staying with them due to 'pressing business.'
The 'business' was a new girlfriend he had installed in an apartment in San Jose, a secret he thought no one knew. Unfortunately, he was an amateur playing in a field with professionals. They'd all decided to let his infatuation play out. Mia and Celia were wrapped up in Tara's first pregnancy and weren't worried that Ander was once again running true to form. In fact, they'd confided to Sookie, they were thinking about making a visit to his newest obsession on this trip and giving her some pointers. Since Sookie was in on the secret, they'd also told her the P.I. they used regularly to keep tabs on him had discovered she was a call girl, regularly taking the money of several oblivious 'boyfriends', Ander just being one of many. They both thought she was safe enough and a good replacement for the woman he'd been seeing who left to return home to Minneapolis.
Events involving her own mom had led her to seek a closer relationship with Mia and Celia. She still mourned to remember what finally had become apparent that night and the following morning when so many things between the three of them finally came to a head. While it wasn't so great to think about all the emotional fall-out from those many hellish hours, the end result had been what they all needed, even Sven for reasons he'd eventually revealed to both of them.
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When Sven had returned from his self-induced diversion with the dogs and found both of us gone from the couch, he'd had a melt-down of major proportions. He'd screamed in frustration and had gone looking for us, his yelling of our names fueled by his white-hot temper as he'd clearly expected to find us together behind a locked door we'd try to keep him from entering. Although I had retreated to our upstairs bathroom alone, I was shaken by the venom in his voice.
Then the self-doubt began. How would I have felt if I had discovered he'd slept with Selah again? It might not be an accurate analogy, but I would have hated it. Why was he expected to be better than the rest of us? Who'd set him up to be above it all? It was really too much to ask of him and as I sifted through my feelings about the subject, what I felt was a growing shame. Luckily, he'd headed first to Eric's room. At the sound of him retreating to the back of the house, I'd decided I had to be part of whatever conversation the two of them had about me. Taking a cleansing breath, and then heading down to the first floor via the back staircase, I began running down the hall, my courage a fleeting friend I didn't trust to stick around if I hesitated.
Eric hadn't locked his door, so Sven must have burst in, evidently expecting to find the two of us embracing or more. Catching sight of his shirt through the open door, arms locked behind his waist, it was obvious he'd been brought up short by what he'd found instead. Looking around him, I saw it was Eric, alone on his bed, face buried in his pillow, silently shaking with what had to be some sort of agony. Was it emotional or physical, or was there even a difference? At the sound of movement behind him, Sven had whirled around to point a finger in my face, saying "Why are you doing this to him? He's my brother and he's hurting all over again, thanks to you."
What! Now he was laying into me? Weren't we all on the same side? It was just too damn much.
Eric chose that moment to raise his head off the bed and looking at me, not Sven, asked again "Why'd you do it? And why can't you admit it? I guess I believe Sven after all. I'd know his handwriting." After similar cryptic comments from Sven, I figured out Eric, see-sawing over who was the guilty party, was still accusing me of something. I was so pissed I couldn't gather my thoughts for a minute. But, when I did, I let it all out.
"I resent the accusation, whatever it is, that I'm some sort of coward or liar. Will someone please tell me what I'm supposed to have done?" Both of them just looked at me in disbelief.
It turned out Sven's anger hadn't evaporated; it had just gone underground, choosing this moment to emerge with a whoosh worthy of a firestorm in a tinder-dry forest.
"I never would have guessed you'd pretend about something like this, Sookie." The look he gave me was so awful, I froze. Never in my life would I have expected to see anything like it on his face directed at me.
As the implications of what he was saying finally registered, I lost it, and whirling around, returned the same way I had arrived. I reached the bedroom, locked the door and didn't know I was crying until I'd sunk down into the thick pile rug Sven had placed on the side of the bed for me when I'd moved in and complained about the chill of the wooden floor in the mornings. It was pink, my favorite color and he'd hated it because it threw off the color scheme of the room, but still insisted I needed it. Thinking about this inanity only served to enforce how much the last few minutes' exchange had upset me. So, now what was going to happen?
I waited alone long past midnight, but no one knocked on the door. When all was silent, it seemed reasonable to leave the room and check on them, but I just couldn't do it. I clung to the fact that I'd done nothing wrong and yet they both blamed me. It was a jumbled mess of details, but evidently they thought I'd written something that had hurt Eric, and now wouldn't admit it. As the wee hours of the night crawled by, I'd come to a conclusion that I couldn't bear to be right, but after examining it, couldn't deny it. Still, with the answer in hand, I decided to wait for one of them to come to me. After all, Sven's clothes were in the bedroom closet and he'd need them to dress for work in the morning, wouldn't he?
I'd finally fallen asleep secure in the knowledge that they both would have to find me and listen to what I now was sure was the only explanation.
However, waking around nine that morning to the sounds of a silent house, I reckoned I'd made a small error. Sven evidently had borrowed Eric's clothes—duh—and taken off. Probably Eric was gone as well, although his schedule was more his to command.
Fine, I'd just wait for them to return. Looking in the mirror, I saw the lines from the pillowcase had left a mark on my face. Hell, did this mean I was getting older? Skin at my age, fair haired and blue-eyed as I was, still should not be retaining lines. Even as I could see the lines were fading, it didn't help my mood. I showered, and then slathered on moisturizer, changed into a freshly ironed soft baby blue man's shirt, zipped into a Navajo-inspired patterned skirt, slipped on an outrageously expensive wide Western cowhide belt and tied a bandana around my throat, all clothes purchased for me by Sven from that new designer's line, Ralph Lauren. As an afterthought, I pulled on the mid-calf boots he'd insisted on to complete the outfit, trying not to dwell on what they'd probably cost. Now feeling like a rich bitch, I headed to the kitchen to see if I could keep down any food. If there were any cattle running loose amongst the appliances, I'd whip out my lariat and…found Eric sitting at the table, waiting for me.
"Well." Clearing my throat, I was momentarily speechless.
Eyeing my clothes with a bemused expression, Eric decided to help me out. "Morning, pardner. No note for me this morning, I see."
Perhaps it was time to slaughter this beast before it consumed all of us. "If you'll tell me what the note said, maybe I can sort out this fabled article."
"Interested in some coffee?"
"I stopped drinking coffee. I read somewhere the caffeine in it isn't good for you."
Silence. "Your turn to say something, Eric. Or, you could just answer my original question."
"Since I memorized the contents oh, say five years ago, it is still fresh in my mind. But, Sookie, why don't you tell me what it said? And considering what happened between us last night, would you care to explain 'why' you left it?"
Feeling a scream beginning deep in my throat and my fists beginning to clench, I picked up his coffee cup and gulped down a large swallow, then grimaced. It was ice cold and black. What was he, a Barbarian? No sugar and cream?
"No pressure. I have a copy of it in the den. I called Celia in Salt Lake early this morning. I knew she'd ask fewer questions than Mia. I was right, of course. She had no problem finding my old copy of A. Quiller-Crouch's 'Oxford Book of English Verse', and retrieved your note. I had used it to mark one of my favorites, 'Sonnets from the Portuguese, No. 43.' Do you know of it?
"Sorry, no, I don't have time to read much poetry, Eric." I sat down, not sure I was ready for whatever was coming.
"You sound impatient, Sookie. Tired of me already, perhaps?"
I openly glared at him for this implication that I was being fickle. So untrue. He continued.
" Celia made a copy of it, and faxed it to me. But again, I didn't need it. I have both the poem and your note burned into my retinas, I believe. How is it that you don't remember it, my dear?"
"Frick, let's stop with the teasing. How does my so-called note begin?" It appeared the closeness I knew we'd established between the two of us, a strong physical bond that made me wish to touch him right this minute, wasn't going to override his single-minded interest in the damn note.
"You know, you really are rather admirable in your steadfast denial. I almost believed you last night. So, this morning, after re-reading it a few times, I made a copy of it and faxed it over to Sven's office. He confirmed it appears to match your handwriting, and faxed back a copy of a list of some items you'd asked him to pick up a few weeks ago. I had to agree with him. Again."
"You two were very busy this morning, what with all the faxing and phone calls. I'm amazed my husband even has a business left to operate with all the extra demands you've piled on him."
"Don't worry about him. He's secure. So secure, in fact, that he's given everyone who works for him the day off. I was just sitting here waiting for him to return. He left downtown about twenty minutes ago. If you weren't up when he arrived, he suggested we try a cold shower to get your blood moving."
I felt my knees weaken at his words. This alone could be one of the best reasons why it was never a good idea to have more than one spouse at a time. One never knew when they might try to gang up on you; professional courtesy among thieves, or males, as the case might be.
"If you would just answer my question, I'm heartbroken about it, but I believe I can tell you what happened."
He looked skeptical, but since I was offering an answer, any agreement he'd had to wait for Sven to arrive appeared to be forgotten.
He began his recitation. 'My Darling.' You can imagine how my heart raced when I saw that salutation, as I had been thinking the same of you, Sookie. It was all downhill from there, though. 'As of this night, it has become clear that we are of two different minds. Your actions of late…" He stopped, clearly offended, my own expression unmistakable now. "This is funny?"
Choking back my inappropriate laughter, I shook my head 'no.' "She might have chosen one with a little less turgid language, but she picked well for the sentiment. Weren't you a little confused by the last line?"
I had the laughter under control now, sobered by the confirmation of what Pam had done, a misguided act, but not one for which I could entirely condemn her. Pam was, after all, my mother and had thought she was acting as Gran would have done in her place. Perhaps if Gran had acted in time, neither Jason nor I would have been walking this earth and Pam's life might have turned out very differently. I had always known Pam didn't want the same for her daughter as she'd had to bear, married to my father and pregnant with Jason at seventeen, then divorced before she turned thirty-eight. But I'd been on the Pill. Had erratic, rattled Pam mislaid that little fact?
Eric was still watching me, waiting for an explanation. "Yes, I wrote it, but not to you, Lover. It was one of my earlier efforts, when I was trying to mimic the Victorians. The last line went like this, I think: If we are never to be together, then I must cast myself into the nearest well, a broken neck my only choice after the wrong you have done me." Okay, couldn't help it after all. I started giggling and couldn't stop. Maybe it was the release of tension, but the giggles became louder. I had to rest my forehead on the distressed cherry kitchen table, clamping a hand over my mouth to try to hold it in.
Eric still looked unconvinced. "So, you did write that godforsaken note? But, you say, 'not to me'? And that last line? We decided it sounded like something a romantic, immature teenager would write to me to break it off." Most of the vicious sarcasm from earlier was gone, thank god.
"Oh, Eric, my mom slipped that note in your door, not me. Don't you get it?"
"No, I don't. Your mom liked me, a lot. She even gave us time alone that night, which I thought was fantastic. It doesn't make sense, Sookie."
"Yes, it does. When I called her to announce my marriage, she thought I had married you and was extremely excited we'd 'found each other again.' I'm guessing her reaction was because she'd felt guilty about her interference in my life. Did you know she never mentioned you again after that weekend? Not once." But in my mind, Eric was not off the hook for his behavior.
"Now that you know the truth, what is your excuse for never calling me, Eric-mine?"
He'd gone from confusion to what I was certain was a remorseful expression. But when he did not volunteer an answer, I pressed on.
"If I was so important to you, why didn't you look me up in the phone book? I even had my own pale pink princess phone in my room for private conversations." I'd been so proud of that phone when I'd received it as a Christmas gift from my parents, with its lighted push buttons and sleek new cradle design. It was still lovingly packed away in storage boxes back in Missouri.
"Why would she do that, Sookie? I don't understand." Eric was still mired in the reasons behind her actions. I'd moved on to what was the more salient question.
"Look, focus, please, Eric. I'd like to have this sorted before Sven gets back, which will be any second, knowing the way he drives. He's as much at fault as you. He signed my name so you'd know for sure it was from me. If he had not done so, would you have called me or come by to see me before you left that day?" A very clear image of what I would do to Sven for his role in this saga, his impulsive act that had sealed the deal for Eric, weaseled its way into my brain. It involved one of the toys Sven kept locked in a cabinet in his den. I was definitely thinking about using it on him, turning the tables as it were. He had been very, very, bad. Hadn't he himself been training me that there were always consequences for one's actions?
The front door opened and slammed shut. Before we could call his name, Sven stood in front of us, wearing what I'd come to categorize as his 'righteous male' face. It appeared whenever he felt the opposite sex had done something really egregious that his half of the human race would never stoop to doing. It always made me wish to smack him, and not in a good way. This morning, his luminous green eyes, his best feature, well, best visible feature if one were being truthful, were huge and zeroed in on my face. I hesitated, at first daunted by the sudden prospect of his famed interrogatory skills being demonstrated on me in favor of assuaging his brother's supposed hurt.
I stopped him by speaking first. "Sven, I am truly innocent here." His head swung around to where Eric was sitting. I'd doubted he'd just accept my word, and wasn't wrong.
"Is this accurate, little brother?" Delivered in not quite a snarl, but no friendly tones were in there, either. Yep, looked like I was still the odd woman out.
"Her mom wrote it, umm, no I mean she wrote it, like we thought, but not to me. Her mom left it in the door. It didn't help that you signed her name." Eric had spoken up for me, but now he had a question. "Why didn't you sign it? I wouldn't have to be angry with Sven if you'd signed the note." Before Sven could start on his questions, his doubts about Eric's explanation evident on his face, I held up a finger, a signal to give me a minute.
I avoided looking at Sven as I thought about my options.
First, I'd have to confess to my embarrassing high school mooning over non-existent boyfriends. After all, why should I have signed one when it was only written to be squirreled away in a drawer and forgotten? But my sentimental mom Pam, who'd understood the adolescent urges I'd poured out in those letters, must have found and saved them. Last night, I'd come to the conclusion that her understanding of what they revealed about me had both led her to encourage my innocent attraction to Eric that first summer and also later fueled her fears about my future when Eric and I had told her over the Fourth of July weekend our schemes for spending the following summer together in Iceland. Sex was one thing, but she'd known how susceptible I was to Eric and his plans for his future success. Perhaps it was desperation that had led her that night to finding the most expedient means she had available for separating me from a life she didn't want for me. It had a certain logic to it, actually. She'd probably never noticed I hadn't signed those notes.
Unsure how to begin my explanation and definitely reluctant to divulge those early secret, childish longings that led to my foolish practice, I realized Eric might be willing to accept and forget the origins of his note, but once Sven understood it, I knew he'd use it somehow to his advantage. Surprisingly, Eric again came to my rescue.
"Just forget the reason. It was some stupid teenage thing she was into, Sven. She was just a little girl, barely legal when we jumped her that night in my room." What?
"As I recall, you alone were the favored instructor for that weekend, not me. I can't say that I knew that much about Sookie, legal or not. Now, you, Eric…you had 'Joy of Sex' out and opened to your personal favorites, though, didn't you? I saw it when I walked in. Maybe that was what confused me about what was going on between you two." Sven might have been willing to suspend his disbelief about Eric's explanation of the note, but he was determined to explain his reasoning now for his own actions. It seemed a good time to let them work it out. I would have to wait to learn why Eric had not called me.
"She wasn't like that to me, I told you later."
"Yeah, some little girl you'd seen twice, if I recall. You were all prepared to build a fantasy life with her to replace the one you'd had to abandon after breaking up with Selah. I could see it in your stoned face. In your mind, you already had the happy home in Iceland with two point five children ready and waiting. She'd be your devoted and adoring research assistant, performing all your grunt work while you became an internationally known research scientist. You had it all mapped out, didn't you?" Sven was openly sneering at Eric's imagined plans, which did have the ring of truth to them.
"It was such a well-constructed plan, little brother. But I have to ask myself one more time; if she was so precious to you, why not call her after we returned to Salt Lake and apologize? Was your tender heart so fractured by her half-baked letter that you were incapable of action?" Now he did snort, which wasn't very nice. "Signing that incoherent note convinced you she didn't want you? I did you a favor, even though the impulse was borne out of jealousy. You didn't know anything about her. You were just going to use her, like you ended up doing with Selah. Sookie, however, is a better person than Selah could ever hope to become. She would have seen through you eventually, and she would have been the one divorcing you. All I did was save you from a world of hurt, little brother. You would have been destroyed when this fine woman dumped you."
Eric could not meet my eyes, confirming for me that what my mom had feared and acted to prevent perhaps wasn't too far off the mark. Sven's confession of his own motivations that night were also out in the open now. It appeared that we had finally said all we had to say to one another on this subject. I couldn't help thinking it was all so long ago, and yet we three were still sitting here, together.
It took a few minutes, but when I caught Sven looking at me, I smiled at him, then we both turned and smiled at Eric. Eventually, as both brothers relaxed, I reached across the table and took Eric's hand in mine. I nuzzled his knuckles, and said, "It's okay, you know."
"What's okay, Sookie?"
"All of it. Everything. And, I remember well what we did last night, Eric." His smile was genuine now, his teeth gleaming in the slight parting of his perfectly shaped dark pink lips. But glancing at Sven, still standing, it was obvious his smile had disappeared. My husband was no longer happy and relieved just to have the events of that Fourth of July weekend behind us.
Hoping to defuse any further emotional scenes, I stood and moved around behind Sven, rubbed breasts and thighs against him and tightening my arms around his waist, dropped my hands over the front of his jeans to let them dangle and brush against him. "I love you", I breathed in his ear and meant it. If I felt any reaction from him at all, I was going to take advantage of it to redirect this conversation.
As I'd always said about Sven, he didn't disappoint. Giving a low growl, he turned his torso around, facing me and said, "Don't try that trick on me, although I do like it when our moms use it on Dad." I stopped him by surging up and kissing him long and passionately. My need for him obvious, his mouth opened to me and his tongue darted into mine to find me greedy for his touch. His eyes were closed now, and he swung the rest of his body around to grip me tightly, pressing his arousal into the soft flesh of my stomach. Without warning, I yanked the hem of his t-shirt from the tight jeans he'd borrowed from Eric and dug my hands under the material to squeeze his ass. Since it had been more than a week since we'd made love, his response was immediate, that involuntary push against my hips that I craved. I wanted him, wanted to feel him, and wanted Eric to see what we were doing.
The lightweight wool skirt, fine for cooler months, was too warm for this activity in the unseasonal weather we were having. Already my inner thighs were feeling drenched and sweaty from Sven's ministrations. Luckily, the skirt was full enough to allow me to maneuver easily. I tensed, and then jumped up to wrap my legs around his waist, keeping my mouth fastened on his. His hands reached under my skirt to hold me in place and he murmured his approval at finding I wasn't wearing any underwear for him. Keeping my eyes open, I looked past Sven to where Eric was still sitting at the table, concentrating on not watching us. I held out my hand to him, and pulling back from Sven's mouth, asked the question I'd thought about for months now. "May Eric join us, my love?"
A look I could not place passed over Sven's face before he nodded. "He can hold you up while I take this hot shirt off of you, my wife." There he went with the possessive again.
"Are you okay with this, truly?" It was one thing to have had an extramarital fling with the brother-in-law, prodded into doing so by my husband, but we were entering uncharted emotional waters here. I didn't relish the possibility of finding myself stuck between two territorial males if it all went south. Been there, done that.
"Come here, Eric." I recognized the dominant voice. How would Eric react?
"Don't try that shit on me." I got my answer immediately.
"Come now, Eric. I'm inviting you and I won't ask again." Here we go; was it going to get tense before we'd even started?
"Is our discussion over, Sven?" A pause from both brothers. "Am I just to forget your role in my misery?" I wondered if pulling off my shirt, and yanking down my bra to expose my boobs might be the answer here for Eric.
"I told you last night after Sookie left just how much I regretted doing anything that left you vulnerable to the faithless whore. Why would I lie now? I'm ready to share our love with you, but you have to take a step forward as well." Was I forgotten during this exchange? Time to raise my hand.
"Eric, if you don't put it behind you, this moment will pass. I'm going to tell you something." Eric frowned at my words. He didn't like being told anything by anyone, just like Sven.
"I could grow to love you as much as I love Sven." The frown became more pronounced. "But what I feel for you now is more the yearning I felt when I thought you'd left me behind. It hurt."
"I hurt you?? Not intentionally." He was quick to respond to what he clearly felt was an accusation.
"Eric, give it up and come here, please. Sven won't say 'please', but I will." I stopped and stared at Sven. "Maybe together you and I can figure out why Sven is being so agreeable about bringing you into our marriage. It doesn't seem very much like you, my love. Is there something else you need to tell us?" His reaction was definitely a small flinch. I saw it only because I was so close and concentrating on his eyes. "Spill." But this was said in my softest, pleading voice, only for his ears. I knew Sven could never be coerced by anyone into doing anything he didn't want to do.
"Later." He whispered into my mouth, his breath a promise on my lips. "Later." He carried me out of the kitchen and into the softly carpeted sunroom, a haven upon which I'd been lavishing attention in the form of multiple flowering, tropical plants, Moroccan-print over-stuffed fainting couches and piles of large multi-hued suede-covered floor cushions. The air in the room was sweetly perfumed with the scent of several baskets of honeysuckle branches I had gathered and arranged in honor of our guests. .
Looking over his shoulder at Eric who had followed us, he made one more effort. "Come hold her up while I take off the shirt."
Eric stood still, his uncertainty apparent.
"Let's try something else?" I asked Sven for his permission. He let me slide down his legs, and I stood again, still suffocating in the too warm skirt and long-sleeve heavy cotton shirt. The time to act was almost past. I started unbuttoning the shirt and motioned to Sven to strip off his t-shirt and jeans. He nodded, and pulled the stretchy material in one lithe move off his body and over his head, dropping it on the floor beside him. I was only on the second button, but looked askance at Eric to take off his t-shirt as well. When he made no move to respond, I said "Do you want Sven to take it off?"
I was shocked when he nodded in agreement. Sven moved over and wrapping his arms around Eric in a brotherly hug, said, "It is okay, man. We both love you, and you know it." He grasped Eric's t-shirt with both hands and yanked hard at the neckline. It ripped down the center and he pulled it off Eric's shoulders to drop it on the table, turning to face me in triumph.
In the supercharged atmosphere, seeing them both shirtless and only inches apart, it was all I could do to concentrate on my last button. Sven, discerning my difficulties, was back at my side, saying "Let me." He took over, slipping the shirt from my heated skin. I arched with pleasure as he released the belt, unzipped my skirt and pulled it down to my ankles, then knelt and began kissing my exposed mound, using his lips and tongue to find my cleft and soak it with his saliva, his strong fingers now digging into my quivering flanks. I was stroking his hair, eyes closed, when I felt another pair of hands on my shoulders, pulling down my bra straps, my last item of clothing, save for the bandana looped around my neck. Eric whispered into my ear as he nuzzled my neck, "Let him take you first, then I want you as well."
His hands now pulling off my bra, he palmed my breasts and using thumb and forefinger, began twisting my nipples just enough to cause a small twinge that travelled directly to Sven's area of operations. Feeling how much I responded to this small measure of pain, he stepped up his efforts, scraping his lightly callused fingers over my soft, dewy flesh as he ground into me from behind while flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin on my neck and behind my ears.
I let go of Sven's hair and reaching behind me, found the button to his jeans, released the tabs, and unzipped him, peeling back the cloth by feel alone. Another fan of the commando way of life, he popped out and was standing close enough that I could feel the full shape of his erection pressing into my lower back.
As Sven stepped up his licking and sucking, burying his face between my legs to begin darting his tongue inside me, I lost any inhibitions I might have once had about this scenario. I needed Eric's mouth on mine, and twisting my head, made my desire known. The sensation of both of them using their tongues on me was too much input, and I felt my legs buckle as a release that had been building overwhelmed me. I screamed my orgasm into Eric's mouth; he response was immediate, his body writhing against mine, his groin a searing hot weight against my spine.
When my shuddering ceased and all my moaning had died down into a gentler sharing of our tongues, Sven pulled my legs further apart, causing me to loose my balance. His shoulders surged under my knees and he rested them over his shoulders, my boots crossed at the ankle behind his head, his hands and elbows now the only support for my hips. I'd scrambled to catch myself as I'd felt what Sven was doing, my arms extended, hands on the floor to support my weight and my head thrown back. I was now staring up into Eric's jean clad crotch. Such a pretty sight. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, and bent down to slide the jeans to his ankles, then kicked off the pooled material. I noticed he was barefoot as he spread his thighs, his shaft now standing out in an arresting angle from his smooth, flat stomach and groin area. It was just as impressive as I remembered from the previous night, and I motioned for him to squat down and give me access to his sac. I wanted to suck him into my lips, using them to create a friction that would send him over the edge. I also wondered what had possessed him to shave off his golden pelt sometime last night. Probably Sven had made him feel inadequate about it. 'Inadequate' was never a word that should be used in the same sentence as 'Eric', however. I had to admit that minus the hair, his full length was more readily visible and I liked it. He lowered himself onto his knees, and then holding my shoulders to support my upper half, he overrode my desires and pointed his dark red tip between my covetous lips and pushed inside. His taste was like the freshest of salmon roe, a Japanese treat to which I had become addicted. It had been an acquired taste, but with Eric, I did not hesitate, even as I felt Sven move back from my center to lower my hips to the floor and hurriedly begin to release himself from his jeans.
I had an intense flashback at that moment, transported once again to that dimly lit bedroom in the expensive shoreline house where this adventure had begun so divinely only to end so ignominiously that long ago night. Could it be the Fates, the Moirae, had intervened this time? Were they determined that Eric, Sven and I would reach this moment together, finally overcoming whatever form of mischievous interference had been visited upon us that night by a Puck-like creature? I couldn't help remembering my breathless seventeen-year old virginal assessment of both of them, naked and side-by-side, rising above me as I lay still on Eric's bed, an invitation to partake of my feminine pleasures so evident in my naked spread thighs and glistening, parted folds. It could have gone so many ways that night.
Eros must be snickering into his palm somewhere nearby, I thought, giddy at the certain prospect of the happy completion of his much earlier bollixed labors.
And then I forgot all about the three ladies, and any parallels between us and the misbegotten efforts of his lovers and their tormenters in William's many plays, and concentrated on the sensations of having two men I loved, in different ways, enter me and render me senseless, binding me into a soul-synchronized connection more thoroughly than any piece of paper or pompous pronouncement by man or God. I was keeping both of them. Whatever sacrifices that would be asked of me now or in the future would be worth it. I was sure they would both agree, judging by their expressions and the deep, guttural moaning issuing forth from their identical throats, their thigh muscles straining, ice-blond and chocolate-brown locks framing their desire-etched faces as their arms guided my flesh to satisfy their straining members. Their emotions and aspirations, so twin-like and yet so different, were mine for the shaping. And make of them what I would, I would keep them, both of them, forever and ever.
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A/N: Yes, there is more.
Meanwhile, I acknowledge a tip of the hat to my main man R and his Maker Mortimer.
All remaining errors are mine, mine, mine.