Chapter 5: In a Family Way

WE GOT TO the studio Tuesday in time for me to check my supplies and head over to the Avon with Anna to photo La Guerre, Yes Sir! I really didn’t need that.

Let me explain. “La Guerre” means “War.” The story revolves around the wake and funeral of a Quebecois soldier in World War II who was conscripted against his will—and against the will of the entire French village in Quebec where the play is set—and was killed. The village is so isolated from events that his mother doesn’t even recognize the piece of cloth draped over his coffin as a flag.

It paints les Anglais in something akin to a Revolutionary War era bunch of Redcoats who simply took what they wanted—food, lodging, and soldiers—from the village, without regard for any of the people’s wishes. The men were desperate to do anything to avoid being conscripted. Those who went were referred to as ‘bought-and-sold, unthinking’ types who went off to fight someone else’s war.

There was a deserter being shielded in the town. One boy, in an effort to avoid being conscripted, chopped his own hand off. But even though the village was uniformly opposed to the foreign war of les Anglais that had nothing to do with them, the deserter and the one-handed resister were considered cowards. I almost got lost as I contemplated my own hand and wondered whether if it was the only way to avoid the draft, I’d have had the courage it must have taken to chop off a hand.

It was sickening. And there was a constant overtone of shame on the village for not supporting the war that they knew nothing about. Were they only resisters because they didn’t know better? Because they didn’t know World War II was a just cause and they should support it?

It made me question myself again as to whether I was really anti-war or just opposed to going to war. Anna got me out of the theatre when it was obvious that I wasn’t taking pictures anymore. I’d have to go back the next day to finish as the cast rehearsed some more.

I went to the darkroom to process film and locked the door before any of my girlfriends could come in with me. I got film processed, but I never got around to printing proofs. There’d be time for that the next day. Mostly, I just sat in the darkroom with my head in my hands, thinking about what the show said.

I’d been called a coward for resisting the draft. I refused to even consider a non-combat role in the military. It had been shown repeatedly that they were not ‘defending the shores’ of America. Ever since Wilson tried to make the world safe for democracy, the army had been the tool of an imperialist government sent to fight wherever politicians saw the profit. Probably long before that. And politicians would much rather enforce their will by wielding military power than they would spend the effort to convince the world they had something better to offer. The United States had already shown that democracy was a sham.

I guess I missed dinner. I missed dancing with Toni. I missed my girlfriends until someone finally came knocking at the darkroom door and I unlocked it to admit Patricia. She took one look at me and just held me. She could see. We cried together. It was all too real. Watching the wake for Private Corriveau brought back the days of waiting for Tony’s body to arrive in Tenbrook, holding Patricia during the funeral, discovering she was pregnant. Stupid stupid stupid! If there was justice in the world, Nixon, Johnson, and all their cronies would be standing on the front lines. If I had my way, every fucking congressman and senator would be standing right behind them. We’d see how long it took them before they fragged those generals.

“Nate. Listen to me,” Patricia whispered as we held each other in the darkroom.

“Yes, love. I’m back,” I sighed.

“Good. I think I’m pregnant.”

Holy shit! I was back in the present and alert in a heartbeat. Dad and I didn’t have many father-son talks about the birds and the bees. There was one, though, not long after we moved to Tenbrook, while we were working on Tony’s motorcycle. He’d given me a lecture about using condoms and offered to buy me some if I couldn’t do it myself like a man.

“And just remember this, son. If a girl ever starts a conversation with the words, ‘I think I’m pregnant,’ she’s pregnant. Those words will change your role in life. Be ready for them, because everything you knew before will change.”

Great advice, Dad.

“You’re pregnant! We’re really going to have a baby!”

“I think so. It’s been seven weeks since my last period. Dr. May warned me that I might not be regular after I stopped taking the pill. But seven weeks! I’d normally be due to start again next week. If I miss that period, I think you’d better start taking my picture each week to chart my progress.”

“I think we’d better start today!” I said.

I hugged and kissed my girl and put a hand on her stomach. My baby. Just a little peanut. A whole world without form and void—waiting for the hand of God and the words, ‘Let there be life.’

Yeah. So, I was misquoting atrociously. I was going to be a father.

“Have you told Ronda and Anna?”

“It’s really too early to be telling anyone,” she giggled. “I wouldn’t have told you, but we were here and alone, and we needed good news.”

“It’s the best news, sweetheart. I love you so much!”

I kissed Patricia and before long, we were both naked in the darkroom and my cock was penetrating her waiting vagina.

“We’ll start tonight,” I said. “I mean start photos. I’ll take you out in the studio and take your first record photo.”

“Honey, let’s finish making love first. I love you,” she said.

We didn’t rush. Even though the darkroom isn’t the most comfortable place to make love, we didn’t care. We’d been in this position before and the working of Patricia’s pussy around my cock was all it took for me to plant another colony of potential babies inside her.

I was better prepared for the photo shoot on Wednesday and got through it without losing track of what I was doing. There were some very comic parts of the play as people got drunk during the wake. None of the English soldiers who had brought the body understood the Quebecois, nor did the village people understand the English. When we got back to the studio, Anna didn’t give me a chance to lock the darkroom door without her in there with me. I didn’t mind. I’d been in an incredibly good mood all day.

I got the film processed from the day’s shoot and started pulling proofs while Anna helped move the sheets from one bath to another. Included in the sheets were the pictures I’d taken of Patricia the night before. Anna stopped and stared at them.

“Is she?” Anna demanded. “These are the type of photos you took when she was pregnant. She is, isn’t she! We’re going to have another baby!”

“She said it was too soon to tell anyone,” I laughed. “Might know that you’d figure it out, though.”

“Ronda and I were lying in bed last night waiting for you, speculating on whether you were celebrating or trying again. You were doing both, though, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. After she got me through the shock of seeing that play yesterday, she told me and we went straight to celebrating. I couldn’t help but insist we get started on photos right away.”

“You’d use any excuse to take photos of naked Patricia,” Anna laughed. “You always have.”

“She is an inspiration,” I said as I pulled another proof. “You know what, though? So are you. I’d take your picture any time I could get you naked in the studio. It’s been that way ever since you became my bookkeeper and started running around in a bra and panties with the other girls in the studio.”

“And less and less,” she giggled. “Do you want to take a picture of me in all these poses? Would you like it if I was pregnant and swelling up in the middle?”

“I would love to plant a baby in your tummy,” I growled, wrapping my arms around her, and kissing across her shoulders. “Or we could just pretend and practice a while. I’m always up for that.”

“I can feel you being up for it. So, now that it’s up, put it in. I love you. No, I don’t want to get pregnant. I just want to get fucked.”

“I think we can manage that.”

Anna straddled me on the chair in the same position Patricia had been in the night before. Oh, it was different. Making love with Anna was always different than making love to Patricia or to Ronda. I was happy they were each unique. I still felt a little guilty about pumping into Anna’s wet pussy. She was the religious one—sworn to not even kiss a boy until she found the one she would marry. Then I corrupted her. First, she started running around in a bra and panties. Then she lost the bra and I caressed her in the studio as I brought her to a climax. By the time I took her to prom, we were both so primed we were about to burst. And I did—almost as soon as my cock slid into her silky depths.

Over four years we’d been lovers now and I would never let go of her. Yes, Patricia was pregnant with my child, but marriage was not even a consideration. I had three wives and you can’t do that anyplace in the puritanical United States. I simply needed to make sure each of my wives was cared for and love them all.

Maybe it was that thought that caused the come to rise in my balls. Maybe it was just being sheathed in Anna’s hot quim. Either way, we both exploded and I held that precious girl to me as I pumped a giant load of sperm into her.

“Ronda and I were making bets in bed before the two of you joined us. We bet you were celebrating and decided it was silly for us not to celebrate, too. I really never thought I’d even consider doing it with a girl. But, God! I love Ronda and Patricia. It’s gotten so it isn’t just being willing to help a girl out, or something to do while waiting for our turn on the cock. Even thinking about licking Ronda or Patricia, or about them licking me is enough to get my juices flowing. I honestly like making love to them as much as to you!”

“I’m glad you are part of our real family,” I said. “You know, Ronda and I were talking Monday night about how happy we are with our family the way it is. I mean, you and Ronda and Patricia and me. There’s always room for Toni and more children. But ... I know this sounds callous, but we’re both glad Chris and Beth left the family. They didn’t belong. Chris would have had her face buried in your pussy to lick the come out of it, just because it was her perversion. It wouldn’t have been because she loved you. And Beth—even though she was your friend—wasn’t really part of the family. She was just with me, and then only when it was convenient for her.”

“It’s true. We all love each other fully. We have the right mix in our family,” Anna said. “Right now, mix it up in me again and leave another big load of love in me. Speaking of someone willing to lick your come out of me, I know two girls who would love to do it. Might as well leave a load for each of them.”

A few squeezes and I was fully erect inside my lover and we were well on our way to another peak.

We found Ronda and Patricia already in bed when we got up to the apartment. It was still early, but Toni was asleep. Anna and I had a bowl of soup and then joined our wives in bed.

“He told you, didn’t he?” Ronda asked as Anna got under the sheet.

“Yes! We were right. You, Patricia! You thought you could keep a secret from the family!”

“I knew I couldn’t as soon as I whispered it to Nate,” Patricia giggled. “When you and Nate didn’t come out of the darkroom this evening, I dragged Ronda to bed and told her just as she was coming on my tongue.”

“Then I licked that candy-flavored pussy of our mama to be until she squealed,” Ronda said. “Um ... That doesn’t mean I’m too tired for a celebration with our husband, too.”

“Good idea, lover. Why don’t you occupy him while I get a taste of this sweet pussy. My wife is going to have a baby!”

“Your wife! Oh, Anna, I love you. I am your wife as much as I’m Nate’s and Ronda’s. Love me, baby. Love me lots!”

We didn’t actually spend all night making love, but there was more fondling, kissing, and cuddling than we’d had for a celebration in a while. This was it. This was why I existed. I would give my life to these women and rejoice every day of it.

I got transparencies back from Dave first thing in the morning and looked through them to decide which to print for the theatre. I made the choice and got the poster-size print made. Then Anna took it and the black and white proofs over to the festival office where the marketing team sorted through them and decided which pictures should be printed and which should be offered for sale to the actors and crew.

Patricia and Ronda were managing the store all day, but I had a photoshoot scheduled. Right at eleven o’clock, Monica showed up for her third and final session with me.

“Monica, welcome back to Attic Allure. Shall we make art today?”

“Oh, mio caro, I am putty in your hands. Mold me. Shape me. Press your body close to mine and make me yours,” she said, flinging her arms around my neck and planting a passionate kiss on my lips and halfway down my throat.

Her passion was full-blown and it would be a while before I could begin to catch up to her. I had a feeling she had been working herself up to this last session since she arose in the morning.

“We’re going to do more with light and shadow on your exquisite body,” I said.

“I knew you would want my body. It is yours. Take it. Paint me with light. Paint me with your love,” she said. I had to wonder if she was quoting from some opera or another. It seemed she almost sang the words.

“I am set for the first pose. May I unveil you?”

“Only if you kiss me and touch me with your fiery lips and fingers.”

I saw Patricia in the doorway to the shop and she blew me a kiss before she closed the door. I led Monica to the center of my little stage area where I had focused an ellipsoidal with a sharply defined gobo. I’d talked to John during photos of La Guerre. Yes Sir! He’d brought me a dozen different patterns that I could use to cast shadows on my model. I wasn’t sure how some of them would work, but I felt that my best work with this would be with low-speed black and white film. Normally, I would use that for extremely fine grain texture. I felt that even though Monica would be lit and cast in shadow, that fine grain would be a positive, as long as I could get her to hold a pose for the long exposures it would require.

I began at once to undress Monica. She had a lightweight jacket and tights on, nothing else. I’d received very explicit instructions from her about kissing and touching, so it took a lot longer to get the two articles of clothing off her body than it should have. But, my God! Handling her beautiful boobs and ass, dragging my fingers through her already-wet pussy, and kissing her could have taken all day and still not have been adequate.

I had three lights prepared from different directions with different patterned gobos in them. I loved how even straight slits of light painted a kind of contour map of her body. Each time I moved her to a different position, the contours changed. And each time I moved her involved more kisses and touches. She tolerated my staying mostly dressed, but got me out of my shirt so she could press herself against me.

I changed patterns, as well. One gobo was a kind of mesh that had little shapes glued to it so it looked like the shadow was what was projected instead of the light.

And Monica moved fluidly into the poses I gave her. She held steady as I shot long exposures on either the Hasselblad or the Linhof camera. The biggest problem I could foresee with these photos was not releasing too many of them at once. They would all look like incredible works of art but would be cheapened if I flooded the market with them.

Eventually, I ran out of positions and patterns for the day and picked her up to carry her to the dressing room. I forgot that her clothes were on the floor of the studio. Monica didn’t care. All she wanted by this time was to be touched and loved. It was all I could do to resist laying her out on the couch and pushing my cock into her wet pussy. As it was, she captured it in her mouth and sucked a load out of me that nearly choked her. I returned the gift by eating her to a noisy orgasm and then just holding her in my arms as we napped for an hour.

I left the dressing room to get her clothes and then spent a good half an hour getting her into the two simple pieces of clothing. It seemed there was still touching and kissing to be done.

“I will carry the memory of your touch with me as I return to Italy,” she whispered at last. “Please come and see my final performance Saturday night. It will be the last time I see you before I leave.”

“I will. I love your voice and will love hearing you sing again. I hope you will be back next season.”

“No, mio caro. I will not return. It would be too hard for me to maintain even the distance we have today. I would live to be in your arms and in your bed. Farewell, farewell. My heart shall ever be in your keeping.”

She swept out of the studio and I spent the next half hour just sitting in the dressing room, partially dressed, recovering my breath from her presence.

She was certainly the most dramatic model and lover I had ever had.

Before I got to Saturday night, however, there was a family celebration to have. Our Little Toni turned four years old. And Tor, Elise, Jim, and Ellie all arrived Friday afternoon to help celebrate.

Toni was beside herself to have two sets of grandparents visit. She was a dervish, running to show them her various projects, her new toys, and her big girl bed. Toni’s birthday was on Saturday, so we’d all agreed we would do whatever she wanted to with her grandparents that day. Of course, she chose to ride horsies.

I have to hand it to both the Kowalskis and the Bergs. They were as enthused as Toni to be out at the stable and get on the horses. Patricia went with them while the rest of us got ready for the celebratory dinner. Toni went to their hotel to spend the night with her grandparents and the four of us dressed up to go to the opera.

It was beautiful, just as it had been when I saw it on opening night. Monica’s voice was truly magnificent and her portrayal was moving. In the tiny theatre, she utterly dominated the space and the entire audience was wrapped up in her performance.

We waited after the performance and eventually were allowed backstage because we were known workers in the festival. We waited outside the dressing room with several other family members of the cast until Monica finally emerged, to the applause of those still in the hall. She held a bouquet of roses that had been presented to her during the curtain call and looked lovely. She went down the row, greeting each of the fans who were waiting and finally reached the four of us.

“Ronda, Patricia, Anna, and Nate,” she said as she gave air kisses to each of us. “Thank you for coming to see me off. You have all made my summer more enjoyable.” Then she turned to the very tall fellow standing on the opposite side of Anna from me. “Carlo, my love, this is Nate, the photographer who painted my body in light and took the pictures that you love so much. Nate, Ronda, Patricia, and Anna, this is my husband, Carlo Kastner. He has come at last to sweep me up and carry me back to Italy.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. We shook hands all around and he affirmed that he loved the photos of his dear Monica. We left the theatre after saying our goodbyes and ran home, still a little dazed by the revelation that Monica was married and her husband was here!

Sunday morning, we all went out for breakfast at That Scottish Café. Tor, Elise, Jim, and Ellie brought Toni to meet the other four of us. We had a good time explaining what was on the menu and had to ask a waitress to please explain the different sausages.