Chapter 25

It became a noisy place early near the garage entrance to the Cube. First thing in the morning the equipment for filming the tour/ad/orgy arrived. Two 35mm film cameras, one with steadycam to be held. Two top notch video cameras. A large wide format video tape recorder which would also be used for sound for the film. Lights. Cables. Mics. Experts for each of those things, though most would leave when Jonny demonstrated his knowledge of the cameras and lights and Eddie showed that he could learn the recording equipment and the microphones quickly and, even though young, Winston was nearly as capable. Only the owner of the expensive equipment, and the guys with expertise in lighting and sound mostly because they were fans of Eddie stuck around.

The noise woke the threesome. “We should get up anyway,” said Joe. “This little production of ours is probably starting as soon as possible.”

“What production?” said Chandi, sensuously stretching.

“The person in charge of business here, Eddie’s Cube, wants to open things up. Instead of just visiting bands to record, she wants to use it as a unique resort.”

“She and I put together a script, a tour of the Cube,” Moe explained. “Jonny’s going to direct it.”

“Jonny?”

“Johan Soros,” said Joe.

“Very cool.”

“You should stay,” Moe said. “We need people to fill the background. Did you bring a change of clothes?”

“I did, but Linton thought I should leave the bag in the limo to give Joe the full effect.”

“The exotic Indian girl,” Moe nodded. “I bet you could fit in some of my clothes. You’re a little bigger up top, but...”

“Maybe something comfortable over my bra,” Chandi offered.

“I know just the thing. And fresh panties? Shorts will fit you snuggly, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Moe chuckled. “Why don’t you guys shower? I’m going to have a quick smoke and grab some clothes for you.”

“Okay,” Chandi smiled.

“Still beautiful,” Moe sighed and rolled out of bed, putting on the clothing she wore when she entered the room, sans underthings. She soon left.

“Join me?” Joe offered.

“Could you give me a few minutes?”

“Of course. Turn on the shower when you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

He let her do what she needed to do in private. When he heard the shower, he went into the bathroom. “Mind if I piss?” he asked the shower curtain. He could see her shadow behind it, a sensuous image despite seeing her naked moments before.

“Go ahead,” she said.

He did and then joined her. And enjoyed her. A new way of exploring, standing naked in confined space, the water heating bodies and making them slippery. Cleaning became loving. Moans hid in the cascade of water. She leaned over, her prize ass at the bending. “Please,” she moaned.

“You sure?”

“Pull out if you cum, but please.”

Bending knees wasn’t comfortable, so when he entered her from behind, he slowly moved down to the floor of the bath. Slipping a little just made it a little more thrilling. A bit of shock to the heart that just continued beating harder at the fucking. They had each other in hand. Him a breast and her pubic bone/clit. Her, the other tit and his shaft and balls. Bouncing down. Lifting up. Impacting wetly.

Inside her without rubber was even better. That perfect fit with naked friction. All that movement within her so much more relevant. It began pulling him into unexpected readiness. His balls making unexpected demands. “You’re so fucking hot I’m going to cum!” he moaned.

“A little longer,” she moaned back.

“I’ll try.”

He went faster, a dangerous move, but it gave her the momentum she needed. Hard squeezes of her nipple. Hard rub of her clit. And pinching. “Joe!” she yelled, echoing in the small space. He fucked into her frenzied interior swiftly before pushing her away. She ended up on his thighs though her incredible ass remained a sight as he squirted seemingly with his entire body seed immersed in semen. Little white snakes flying onto that ass and transforming on impact into white pools which lost integrity mingling with water and streaming off between the gap those delicious ass cheeks formed.

She turned around and straddled him. Kissing him. Loving him. “Every time,” she murmured.

“Me too,” he grinned lazily.

More soft kisses from passion warmed lips. When they ended them they stopped to connect eyes.

“How many lovers, Joe?” she asked.

“Several.”

“More than your wives?”

“Yes.”

“Is it like this?”

“No.” He paused. “It’s intense. There’s incredible power in their love. Sharing. Manifested in passion and ecstasy.”

“You make sure they get both?”

“Always.”

“Why is this different?”

“Because you’re perfect? It’s like we fit, like lingam and yoni were formed for us to be combined. Designed for us. On top of that, you’re such a lovely woman. You have an incredible body. I happen to be an ass man and yours is magnificent. And you’re bright and interesting. I think you’re the only woman I’ve been with who could tempt me to be monogamous so I could just be with you.”

“You would give them up to be with me?”

“No. They’re too important to me, and I’m too important to them. But you are a great temptation.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t be a temptation.”

“Maybe, but I’d prefer it if you were. A lot of my women share each other. All of my wives do. They’d love sharing you. And I know you’d enjoy them. And to just have a piece of you in my life. To be able to have these moments together.”

“Sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

She leaned over him, reached past him, and shut off the water. She returned to gazing at him. “You know I was nervous coming here.”

“Pretty obvious.”

“I don’t know what happened to it. We hardly said anything to each other.”

“Nary a word.”

“But ... I felt so appreciated.”

“How could you not be? You’re beautiful and sexy. Men must look at you.”

“Like wolves at a sheep. Or like sad little boys. Sad and angry. Like I’m taunting them when I’m just being me, you know? All they see is skin and the way it’s shaped. Not within. The scared little girl. Like I’m always that fifteen year old girl seeing the disappointment in my mother’s eyes and shame in my father’s. Not some taunting voluptuary. Not in the least.

“But ... something about the way you looked at me. Confident and caring, which was perfect. You may not have said anything, but your eyes spoke to me.”

“What did my eyes say?”

“Relax little girl. Let me love you.”

“I must have loud eyes,” he chuckled. “Except for the little girl part, that’s exactly what I was thinking. Maybe I heard the scared little girl on the phone, but who stepped into the room was a woman proud of who she is and maybe shy about the circumstances, but ready to play mistress for a night. To be the best at it you could be. Even playing the part of exotic temptress. It was a magnificent choice.

“But, at the same time, it couldn’t be a role you play. That’s the wall that stops intimacy. That makes sex a job. Cum and go. Get the john off and grab his money. You obviously don’t work like that. Like your roommate. You want to be loved. To enjoy being loved. To chase that little girl away and be cherished and appreciated and loved. You happened to have your first date be with a man who feels exactly the same. I cherish women. I appreciate women. I love women.”

“You love me?”

“Yes. So does Moira. Why else would she invite you to our home?”

“Because of the way I look?”

“Yes. Especially in that sari. She loves vintage clothing. It’s like a fetish. And that’s fucking ancient. You really do need to at least visit our home. Her closet is like a museum. I’m actually into it too to some extent. But believe me it was the woman inside that sari, and yes, inside your skin, that delighted her. She’s been around many gorgeous women. High society mistresses. Actresses in the ads she produces. But the women she likes, and there aren’t all that many, especially recently, are always something special. You obviously know Eddie.”

“Yes. I really like his music. He’s brilliant.”

“Then you know of Nigella.”

“Unh-hunh. She died recently, didn’t she? I’ve kind of been busy...”

“I understand. Yes she did. We all miss her terribly. But Moira actually introduced her to Eddie. That’s the type of incredible women she’s attracted to. Interesting women. Strong women.”

“You think I’m strong?”

“Of course you are. You’re on your own here. You could have hobbled to your parents your head down and had them marry you off. That would have been much easier.”

“Except I wouldn’t have been me. It would have been a terrible choice.”

“But easy for a weaker woman. If you think about it, it might even work for a lot of women. If the guy is tolerable, eventually she’d find a way to love him. Arranged marriage often work like that.”

“My parents,” she nodded. “Not my grandmother.”

“Tell me about her.”

“My mother’s mother. My mother really must have rebelled ending up like she is. The proper lady. Grandmother certainly isn’t. Or wasn’t. When I got pregnant, she was the only one who would talk to me. Insisted on it. Mom thought it a bad idea, but grandmother was the strongest woman I ever met. Powerful. Scary to a lot of people. Her husband for instance. He was older, a widower when her family arranged their marriage. Wealthy. It’s where my family got their wealth mostly. They got along, but more as business partners than lovers. She gave him a couple kids. She told me she liked sex, said it wasn’t much of a chore, even if he was a bit of a pig. But really it was her pulling strings that kept their business going. She told me my family wealth happened despite him and because of her, and I believe her.

“Anyway, when we met regarding my pregnancy, she actually was the one to convince me to abort the child. Not for the reasons my parents had, the disappointment and the shame. Reasons I rebelled against, and was contemplating running away. With the boy. But because she’d done the same thing. And had the child. And lost him. Off to an orphanage. Somehow he figured out who his mother was and tried extorting her. A really terrible man. Ended up dying of a drug overdose, him and his lady friend both, leaving a baby behind. Nearly starved so grandmother took her in, claiming to be abandoned by the daughter of her servant. Who, it turned out was her longtime lover. The servant I mean. A really sweet woman. It was really their home when her husband died. Theirs and her granddaughter, who ended up being a woman I admired as much as Grandmother. Absolutely brilliant. She’s a professor now. While my grandmother made me realize my foolishness in thinking anything good would happen with me running away with a boy who would probably end up running away from me and responsibility, my half relations would remind me how smart I was, and would give all that up for this nonsense. And both pointed out that I seemed to favor women in my interests. Like my grandmother. The granddaughter was more ambivalent, I guess like me as well. She was a bit wild and free with her loving, but settled down, somewhat, with a fellow scholar. A boy in the first class she taught, actually. Not all that much younger. They had at least waited to publicly date until after she was no longer his teacher. Waited to marry and for her to have their first child until after he graduated.”

“Your grandmother sounds amazing,” Joe said.

“She was. Inspiring.”

“Like for a book?”

“That’s your skill.”

“This mysterious woman in Hispaniola.”

“It would be like my grandmother and my fellow granddaughter.”

“All the more reason for you to write it.”

“Or for you, with me whispering in your ear about who this woman would be.”

“I’d like you whispering in my ear.”

“Me too. The idea of researching, of collaborating with you actually excites me. For one, it would give me purpose beyond the thesis gaining me a PhD and a possible career as a professor.”

“And the other having an excuse to do be with me.”

“And vice versa.”

“Yes.”

After their most loving kiss they both sighed at its completion. “I suppose we should finish our shower and get dressed,” said Chandi.

“Good idea,” they heard from beyond the curtain. Moe.

Joe pushed aside the curtain. “Sorry,” said Chandi.

“Don’t be,” Moe said and stood from the toilet and leaned over and kissed her. “You keep getting more and more fascinating.”

“I would never steal your husband,” said Chandi.

“Oh? I missed that part,” Moe chuckled. “You going to run off with this lovely vixen Joe?”

“Nope,” Joe said and pulled Moe into a kiss. “If anything, I’d like her to run away to us.”

“A much better choice,” Moe agreed.

“For now, I want to stay here,” said Chandi. “Perhaps I could discuss my plans to do research for Joe with my advisor. A focus on the rebellion culture of Hispaniola and its dispersion onto the mainland?”

“Sounds perfect,” Joe grinned. He looked at Moe. “We need to finish the shower.”

“I’ll wait. I got you fresh clothes as well.”

“Good.”

When they emerged from the bathroom naked, Moe was trying to put on Chandi’s sari. “I have another one at home you can have,” Chandi offered.

“You don’t have to,” Moe blushed, taking off the sari.

“But I want to. I can show you how to put it on as well.”

“That would be wonderful.”

Chandi put on the black panties Moe lent her. A tight fit, but they fit. The short skirt also fit tightly and barely covered her ass. The shirt matched the color and the fabric, and seemed to have been designed for her full breasts, showing cleavage. “Supposedly it was worn by a burlesque queen,” Moe told her. “She liked to be casual on the outside, with bling underneath. Including flashy tassels attached to her nipples.”

“It’s really sexy,” Chandi agreed.

“This would be sexier,” said Moe, picking up the gauzy blouse.

“It is,” Joe agreed. “And made me ask if she knew belly dancing. It shows her midriff while hardly hiding her breasts.

“Do you know belly dancing?” Moe asked.

“Some,” Chandi smiled.

Joe noticed Moe’s smirk. “What?” he asked.

“An idea,” Moe answered. “I’ll need to bring it past Eddie and Jonny.”

“Are you talking about... ?”

“Yes.”

“What?” Chandi asked.

Joe and Moe looked at each other. “Maybe show her where?” Joe said.

Moe nodded. “Come on, beautiful,” she said, taking Chandi’s hand.

“I ... I thought I’d find Linton if he’s around. I have my makeup in my bag.”

“No need, beautiful,” said Moe. “Although you’ll probably need if for later if you agree.”

“Agree to what?”

“Come on. Show and tell.”

They went to the kitchen first where the matron had set up heating trays with scrambled eggs and sausage and buttered toast. Coffee from an urn and either orange or cranberry juices in carafes sitting in ice. Her youngest helped serve and keep things replenished. They took the paper plates and coffee cups with them to the studio. The youngest followed them with a tray with their juices. A table had been brought in to the studio, where they set things down.