Chapter 87: A Birth. Discoveries. Helping a Friend

Mark

I made two long trips over the four weeks before Philip Emerson Worthington arrived in this world. On each trip I made a relatively large amount of money since some of what I was selling was from my non-public corporation: two-hundred-and-fifty million dollars is not to be sneezed at. Further, I bought three small companies that I knew I could sell in a year’s time at ten-fold the purchase price, also netting out at more than a quarter of a billion dollars.

The absences for travel had made me miss my home life. Sheila had accompanied me on both trips, and we had a loving time on our overnights, and even in the stateroom on my larger plane. Nonetheless, I loved my other wives and their guy friends who lived with us.

Elsa stopped working on the Friday before she was due. Her labor started two days after her due date – December tenth. Thus, on December twelfth at nine a.m. my son arrived in a smooth delivery. I was in the delivery room with Elsa (Duh!) along with Cindy and the birthing team of doctors and nurses. Elsa requested Linda Boyd be there too; she was all smiles at the opportunity exclaiming it was far more fun than working in the ER or ICU.

Two announcements had also punctuated that month. Alice and KC both announced their pregnancies about a week apart to everyone’s delight. They were both due in August or early September.

Unlike the pregnancy when I was the planned and intentional father of Philip Emerson, Alice and KC were not precisely certain who the fathers were. We had openly continued our open relationships and the understanding had been that any of the girls who wanted to become pregnant could make that effort by discontinuing their birth control. They were free to designate a baby daddy or take potluck. Alice and KC both took potluck.

As a family we’d had many discussions about exactly this outcome. The question on the table was, ‘Do we care about the paternity of the family’s children?’ Well, not only didn’t we care as it turned out, but the maternity was also going to be a shared effort. While there’d be a birth mother, obviously, all the other sisters wanted a direct role in raising each of the children.

There followed long discussions about child rearing, and the various approaches from helicopter mothers or seagull mothers to those who micro-managed every step of their child’s development. The former hovered nearby the entire time the child grew up providing guidance, explanation, and hopefully and rarely discipline. The seagull mom flew by once in a while, dropped some wisdom on the kid, and flew away again. Micro-management was out of the question and had been proven a bad thing to do. No one liked any of those models, so various compromises were made.

I wisely kept out of most of the discussions, but I listened to many of them and watched the family consensus develop. For the next year, most of the discussion was moot since our child would be an infant most of that time and totally dependent on adult care.

I felt glad to see Julie Yates often stepping into the discussion, because unlike everybody else in the family, she had studied child development in college and then been a nanny and thus had hands-on experience. She could help discriminate between theory and real experiences, at least up through age five. I realized in listening to her talk how hands-on she had been for the family she had worked for before they moved away from the area.

Another area that made me respect Julie was the ease with which she slipped into the family after moving into the two family homes: the condominium and The Meadows. She was accepted and welcomed by everyone, just as Celeste had been.

I wondered if one of the guys would hit on her, but nothing of that ilk happened that I was aware of. I wondered after a while if Julie even knew how to flirt. I tried to banter with her a few times, but she took everything pretty seriously. While I had small fantasies about bedding the pretty girl, I didn’t push at all because that might not at all be what she wanted and I didn’t want to drive her away when we needed her the most.

Julie was an avid reader. By observation, she’d have a half-dozen books going at the same time divided between fiction and nonfiction. The fiction works ranged from gothic romance to action adventure. The nonfiction usually included at least one book on child development, with emphasis on the first five years. She too was preparing for Elsa and my child.

Elsa and Julie bonded quickly and very nicely. Julie had moved in immediately, and they completed the decorating and outfitting of a nursery on the thirtieth floor of the condo and out at The Meadows in days with Alice’s help. I often heard Elsa say something like ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that’ to Julie when something special was recommended. Julie’s hands-on experience was very useful. Without a baby to actually attend to for almost two weeks, Julie felt a little awkward to be a nanny without a ward.

While shy, Julie made an effort to fit into the family and to be present in the late afternoons and evenings when people came home from work, had cocktails, ate dinner, and then sat around to see what the rest of the evening brought. She didn’t talk much, but tried to home in on every discussion, a difficult task with fifteen of us. Inevitably the rest of the evening brought some lovemaking, and that’s when Julie disappeared.

Margo had hosted a baby shower for Elsa about six or seven weeks before the due date. To her amazement women arrived from all over the country to attend and bring Elsa and Philip some little cute gift. Since we had a reveal party at about the halfway mark, the male sex of the child in process was widely known. When I surveyed the many gifts I was surprised at how adult and sophisticated many of the gifts were – even for young teen. Someone had even given a small laptop computer!

Besides the crew from around the city and suburbs, Janet and Sandy flew in from Atlanta, and Brita flew over from Denmark – also coupling in some business meetings and a long weekend visit with the clan.

While all the excitement about the impending birth was rising to a frenzy, I also watched Celeste and how she fit into the family and her role as housekeeper, cook, and a mature and caring friend to all. She started work with us being cautious about our open sexuality. As soon as anything started that might lead to something sexual, Celeste would vanish, probably going down to her suite on the twenty-ninth floor or in a wing at The Meadows. Later, she’d come tiptoeing back into the area, peeking around corners to see whether she still needed to remain away. She admitted to Elsa that she was amazed at how long some of our sexual encounters lasted.

Shortly after Celeste and Julie started, I had emphasized to the others in the family when we were out of earshot of the two, that I didn’t want our spontaneous behavior to stop. I wanted Celeste and Julie to adapt, not the other way around. Despite my comments, I did note a decrease in the lovemaking taking place in the common rooms.

Celeste never indicated any disapproval in what was happening. She took it as part of the fabric of our family, and obviously she was the one who was going to adapt to it. Just before the birth, I noted she didn’t scurry away quite as fast when something started. I wasn’t sure whether she was curious about the encounter, or testing herself to see what she was interested in watching. On more than one occasion, I spied her watching from a nearly hidden vantage point surreptitiously rubbing herself.

While we all made the trek to the hospital to visit Elsa after the birth and to see the new baby, things really didn’t peak completely until she arrived home with seven pounds six ounces of joy. From that moment on, everything changed.

Philip Emerson lacked for nothing. He was constantly in someone’s arms – female and male. Everyone took on diaper duty, even this multi-billionaire. It was a sobering experience that I was eventually glad to leave to others instead of trying to suppress my gag reflex.

Philip Emerson was a tit man. His focus in life amounted to two things: a tit to suck on and a crib or pair of arms to sleep in. Sometimes the two got combined and he’d fall asleep with a teat in his mouth. I suggested to Elsa that I might like to try that.

Elsa, of course, was the main source of nourishment, however, her engorged tits were supplemented by bottles of baby formula. Julie gave lessons in the kitchen to those interested in how to prepare the formula and get the bottles the right temperature.

One evening as I arrived home I noted with surprise that Julie was sitting on a living room sofa with her shirt pulled up to bare her pretty breasts. My child had latched onto one of her nipples and apparently didn’t intend to let go. I wouldn’t have either; her breasts were beautiful. The one I could see had a ripe nipple atop of large dark areola. The nipple was red and extended, having already serviced my son.

I wandered over to her. “You trying to be a wet nurse?” I teased.

Julie smiled up at me with some embarrassment, “No. I’m dry. This is just a holding action while Elsa has dinner out with Mike, Carter, and Stacy. I think they went to the French restaurant you like right down the street. She’ll want to feed him when she gets home. This is the first time she’s been out without junior here. He started to fuss, but it’s too early for his bottle, so he gets my tits and not much of a meal. He’ll cry in a minute.” She giggled, “It’s kind of arousing, actually. I’ve never done this before, but I’ve read about it.”

I nodded and teased, “Well, if you want balance, his father could suck on the other one.”

Julie laughed and blushed, “I might take you up on that sometime.”

“On a more serious note, you doing OK with everybody? Any issues I should know about?”

Julie smiled, “Oh, no. Everything is beyond OK. It’s the best it could ever be. Everyone is so nice to me and tries to include me in things as though I was a family member. I admit I’ve been surprised when a security man accompanies me to the drugstore to buy some diapers and baby formula or if I just head out for a jog in the park.”

I smiled, “I don’t want to have to rescue you from a kidnapping or some kind of physical harassment.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Julie said skeptically.

I shook my head. “Unfortunately, I’m not. I don’t want another shooting or whatever. We don’t expect anything, but a little preparation never hurts. You could talk to Lucas about it if you want a little more space.”

“SHOOTING!!?? What do you mean?”

“Didn’t Elsa tell you about being shot?”

“NO! Good God. When? How? What happened?”

“It’s almost been a couple of years now. We’d been stalked and harassed for months in different ways by a nut case named Myron Tanner who had worked for Worthington Industries for a short time. He was dismissed for cause and took issue with that. After many incidents, a time in jail, he escaped and came after us again; this time with intent to harm or kill. We believe he intended to shoot Elsa and Cindy while they had lunch in a sidewalk café. They expected a possible assault, so when they saw him – as he pulled a gun to shoot them – they both shot him but he squeezed off a shot in his death throes. Elsa was hit and nearly died, but she recovered and has a few battle scars to prove how tough she is.”

“Oh, my God. How did she happen to have a gun – and Cindy?”

“When the hassles began, they both decided to take up martial arts and then shooting. Deke taught them to shoot. Melanie too. They are very accomplished in all those skills. Ask Elsa about it. I’m sure she would have mentioned it, but all that has taken a backseat to junior here.” I gestured at the sleeping child who still had a beautiful tit in his mouth. As I looked, I could feel my dick inflating in my business slacks.

Julie and I chatted some more about security. Mostly, I reassured her that we were not under threat and that she shouldn’t worry about having a target painted on her back. Julie did relax, but seemed eager to talk further to Elsa.

Elsa

Julie was nearly flying around the condominium when the four of us got back from a quiet dinner at our favorite restaurant. Mark had told her about the shooting and my militaristic side in a pretty blunt way, that left her worried about her own safety as well as Philip Emerson’s safety, not to mention everyone else’s. He didn’t explain much to assuage her fears.

First, I itemized the layers of security between us and the street, and the tremendous hurdles that anybody intent on harming us in some way would have to battle through. Next, I told her about the training that Cindy and I had gone through in urban survival, defensive driving, and weaponry including knife fighting and throwing, and shooting with a wide variety of weapons.

The whole time I talked Julie’s eyes were the size of saucers and she sat on the edge of her seat with her entire body twitching at random times. I was sitting back in my new rocking chair with The Lump in my arms sucking milk out of one of my jugs.

“Julie, when we’re at The Meadows on Saturday and Lump is asleep, Deke and I will take you down by the aircraft runway and have you shoot at our shooting range. I’ll show you what skills I have left after having not practiced for a while.”

“RUNWAY!!?? What runway?”

I rolled my eyes, “Didn’t you notice the asphalt runway and hangar off to the west side of the property out there? The small airport?”

“I guess not. I thought what I saw was ... a road ... and some peculiar building. I never thought much about it.” I had never mentioned flying to her, and apparently no one else had either. A quick glance and she could easily have mistaken the asphalt surface for a road traversing the land. The view from the house made the hangar only look like a modest two story building dressed up to make it look a little less industrial, plus there were newly planted trees and shrubs around it.

I explained, “Cindy and I also took pilot training. We have two planes down there in the hangar, and then one large one at city airport. You’ll ride on one soon now that the weather is cold. We have a villa down in St. Croix. Here to there in the jet is only a little over three hours. If a lot of us want to go we’ll have to go to city airport and take the big jet unless Mark is using it for business. I fly all of them.”

“You fly jets?” Julie’s voice croaked and had more than just a tinge of awe and hero worship in it. I could see that she was re-evaluating herself by comparing her lack of aviating skills to my jet ratings.

I proudly explained trying to remain in a neutral tone so I didn’t sound like the braggart I was, “Yes. The jet we fly from here is a twelve passenger Cessna Citation X. It can land and takeoff easily on our small runway. There’s also a prop plane we fly – a Cessna 210. The large plane at city airport is a Boeing 737-700 that’s been modified for long-haul oceanic trips. Depending on how it’s configured, that plane could carry over fifty passengers and a crew of eight, if needed. It’s quite posh inside. Mark also owns a small airport and fleet of other planes a few miles from here. That’s where we learned to fly. I’ll introduce you to the instructors when they come around. Mark is also learning.”