Chapter 1

Joe didn’t know when his crazy circus of wives and lovers began to fall apart. But it became emphatic, obvious, when Cheryl asked for a divorce. Before that, it had been a slow regression of conversations. What kept them together as much as anything. Less attendance in his bed. Less explanations why.

She’d found someone else. A much younger man. A man as confident as Joe had once been. A lawyer of all things. Recently joining Scott’s firm, which had become Cheryl’s as well, his ambitiousness made enough waves to assure his climb. He wanted her all to himself. Cheryl agreed. She divorced Joe and married him soon after.

Joe’s confidence had dwindled after the immense success of his Caribbean trilogy. Not just bestsellers, but blockbuster movies. Completely scripted by others. No novels followed. Just plays and poems. Most of the plays dark as he felt. Some lighter, but with a bitter irony. Comedies with bite that became musicals. None found great success. Like all Morpheus productions, they purposely had short runs. Except they happened to be on Broadway. At the theater where Myth of Innocence had begun and ended. A theater partly owned by Joe. The new home for Morpheus productions.

Myth of Innocence proved too controversial. At least to move to London. Or to tour. But it did have a run. About a year. With nearly full houses, especially on the weekends. Controversy. And Charlie being the youngest actor to win a Tony. His stardom guaranteed. Or at least his acting career.

After Cheryl left him, Moira would follow with Chandi.

Victoria didn’t leave him. Not exactly. She essentially lived on her father’s schooner, her ship when her father was debilitated by a stroke and left it to her to keep it sailing. It became a laboratory for designing ships. With interns getting real life experience sailing while exploring beyond the envelope of what a boat might be.

These interns could have provided Victoria opportunity for sex. Most, both young men and women, many quite attractive, practically worshipped her. And of course found her abundantly attractive. But like she had with her shipmates when she was young, she eschewed any such relationship. Preferring Joe and Charlie. And Liang and Essie. Her teaching kept her anchored mostly in New York harbor. She’d come ashore occasionally to stay with them or Joe and/or others would visit her. Or one or more of them joined her for excursions. Charlie alone or very occasionally with Liang. He asked if his current male lover might join them. Victoria refused, at least in joining them. Sex needed to be part and parcel with love. Like it did for Cheryl in the end.

As soon as his divorce came through, and before Joanne and Chandi left, Essie confronted Joe. “You can marry me now,” she said.

When Joe sighed, she murmured, “Please?”

“What about Roger?” he asked. The latest of a line of boyfriends that never sustained for more than a month or two. Roger, though was nearly a year.

Essie snorted. “The only reason he’s lasted as long as he has is because he’s as indifferent as I am.”

“Sleeps around?”

“Yes.”

“Wears a condom?”

“Like the rest of them.”

“Joanne?”

“Let’s talk to her.”

Joe’s longtime relationship with Joanne had also changed. At first, when his confidence faded, she had ended their sexual relationship. He could no longer be her dominant. It didn’t seem real for either of them. But she missed him too much to let that continue. Missed him in bed, because otherwise they were together. Her being mother to a house full of kids.

Liang’s girl and boy in the usual order, Moe the only exception having a boy first, the boy the youngest of the earlier brood. Joe got clipped after Liang’s second. Rachel’s only offspring, Edwina Josephine Frank, EJ, the source of the sperm undetermined by choice, either Joe’s or Eddie, though she would more than likely reveal it as she aged, arrived between Liang’s babies. Rachel was determined to be a good mother. Inevitably Joanne looked after her daughter more than she did.

It was Liang who ended Joanne’s exiling Joe from her bed. She’d been the only one Joanne shared it with. And one night she pulled Joe along. Becoming a sort of dominant for both of them. Forcing Joanne to get over her disappointment in Joe’s weakened confidence. Reinforcing the love they had. Making them make love. Being the bossy one.

So it was Liang who met with Joanne, Joe and Essie as mediator, sitting at the kitchen table.

“What about Roger?” Joanne asked hopefully, to which Essie chuckled.

“Sorry Mom. Already discussed and rejected.”

Joanne nodded sadly. “So you win in the end like you always do.”

“No!” Essie exclaimed. “It isn’t the same!”

“Isn’t it?”

“I ... I don’t know.”

“It’s not the same,” Liang said. “It’s inevitable. Not some sort of argument or anything like it. If anyone knows that, it’s me. I’ve been with Esther with her boyfriends. Roger more than most. Roger more appreciative then the others of me being there. Esther tried as she was required to, but I saw, first hand, her heart just wasn’t in it.”

“Because you didn’t really try,” said Joanne.

“No I guess I didn’t,” Essie admitted. “Maybe at first. Or at least early on. The first two attempts were just such boys. I really liked my third choice. Still do actually. Not to fuck him. That ended when our relationship ended. He’s happily married now with a couple kids, and I’m good friends with his wife as well. Of course after telling her, emphatically, that I wasn’t a threat. Although I’m not certain she was altogether happy about that. I think she might just be bi, and maybe they ended up with something like what he enjoyed when Li joined us. His wife is oriental. Japanese actually. I have noticed a pretty blonde woman hovering nearby at a couple parties. Kind of looks like me.

“But the point is, I did love him. It just wasn’t enough. He could never be more than second best, and he realized it and called it quits. And I felt relief, Mom, even with him. I liked the others. I wouldn’t have been with them if I didn’t. But none came close even to Dennis, my third New York boyfriend. Definitely not Roger.”

Joanne looked at Joe. “It really is up to you,” he said.

“Is it?” Joanne asked.

“Yes,” both Joe and Essie said. Liang nodded.

“Would it actually change things?” Liang pointed out.

“I have felt like his wife from almost the beginning,” Essie agreed.

“But you want it official,” Joanne said.

“I do.” Essie couldn’t help but giggle.

Joanne didn’t join her amusement at her resonant words. “What about you, Li? It’s pretty clear you’re the last one standing. Moira isn’t even here.”

“She and Chandi will be gone soon,” Liang agreed.

“Probably,” Joe sniffled.

“Ssh,” said Joanne, standing up and sitting on his lap. His arms wrapped around her.

“I guess you’re the last one to stick with me,” he muttered. “At least from those early years.”

“There’s Rachel,” Joanne said.

“Kind of part of the second wave. We didn’t get close, at least sexually until ten years passed.”

“True,” Joanne said.

“Shawn,” said Essie.

“Shawna,” Joe agreed. The mulatto woman had actually moved out of the townhouse. Found an apartment in Brooklyn where she was near Victoria’s alma mater NYU Polytechnic, a professor there. Victoria turning her onto the college. Living with her mostly lesbian lover who accepted Shawna’s closeness with Joe and Eddie. Joe visiting them from time to time. Sometimes with Cheryl or Liang. Shawna coming alone to the townhouse. Being with Eddie more than Joe or his wives. And Rachel would be included when she spent the night and sex was involved. Shawna’s lover amazingly open minded. Partly through Joe’s philosophy of love. Partly because Shawna showed she never loved her less when she came home. And Shawna and her lover shared her bed with the nanny who would bring Shawna’s child from Princeton. And Shawna’s mate raising Shawna’s younger child. Another from Joe’s seed.

The thought of Shawna always made Joe smile. This wasn’t an exception.

“You’re right,” said Joanne. “It really doesn’t change things. And you don’t have to pretend to look anymore for someone else, Essie.”

“I didn’t really mind, Mom. It was kind of educational. Kind of like...”

“Like Cheryl,” Joe said. “Only more long term.”

“Sorry,” said Essie.

“Never be sorry about reminding me of Cheryl. People said it was inevitable. I guess they were right. But we had ... we had so much glorious times together.”

“Would you let her back in if she realized her stupidity?” Essie asked.

“I’m afraid I would,” Joe said.

“Never be afraid of that,” Essie argued. “I love her too.”

Joe nodded.

Joanne laughed, surprisingly. “Serves her right, letting Essie replace her as Joe’s legal wife.”

“Mom?”

“Marry the idiot.”

As Essie pulled Joanne off Joe’s lap and embraced her, Liang scolded the woman. “You’re not to insult Joe, Joanne.”

“Yes Yanhuo,” Joanne said with a smirk. When the embrace ended and Essie replaced her mother in Joe’s lap, pulling him into a lengthy kiss, Joanne asked Liang, “You sure you don’t want to marry him?”

“I’ll always be his unofficial wife,” Liang said. “Just like I’m his unofficial attack dog and you two are my unofficial slaves. Let us retire to the padded room. To be punished for your poor choice of words and to celebrate your great sacrifice.”

“Yes Yanhuo. And let them celebrate their engagement?”

“That too,” Liang grinned.

And so while Liang forced Joanne to suck her to climax before fucking both pussy and anus, with several spanks added, Joe and Essie celebrated quite differently. Slowly. Lovingly. Through three of his climaxes and several of hers. The most when things became a lot less slow, but somehow no less loving. As relentless as he had been with Cheryl. A completion of Essie replacing her. At least unofficially.

By the time it became official, a month and a half later, Moe had left with Chandi, both moving to Barbados where Chandi began her associate professorship at her alma mater. Neither of his first wives nor their lovers showed at the ceremony on Victoria’s schooner. It turned out Victoria as captain wouldn’t be official enough, so they had a Manhattan justice of the peace preside. And instead of the usual wedding night with husband and wife, Essie surprised everyone by inviting them back to the townhouse, the adults invited into Tony and Laura’s orgy room.

Joanne decided against it. Not to avoid being with her daughter, but to watch over the kids. Joe’s mother surprised Joe by accepting the invitation. Age had taken its toll on her body, but she remained a sexy woman. They managed to keep separate on the huge bed, but definitely saw each other. Naked and fucking or being fucked. It helped to close a long term psychologically complicated issue in their lives. More for Joe than his mother, who had accepted her interest in her son for many years. That it didn’t bother Joe watching her naked and explicitly sexual, in fact appreciating her beauty and enthusiasm, felt like a burden had been lifted from his psyche. Even with the slight temptation to be the one licking her and fucking her, or the one being sucked by her.

Despite Essie creating the orgy, she stuck with Joe as far as male company. Her selectivity as far as women kept Joe’s choices restricted to Shawna, Victoria and Laura, at least until the end. Essie disappointing men, including Tony, who played at the edge between the gay sections. Boys with boys and girls with girls. Where he happened to find Joe’s mother, who enjoyed his handsome features and his big cock.

Freddy, Joe’s first girlfriend, might have been the most disappointed at Essie’s restriction. Any chance with Joe, and this seemed like a chance taken away. Hovering nearby, with eyes always focused his way. Even eyes blissed out by orgasm. Until Essie gave in. Let Freddy be his last. Letting them lick each other until Joe became hard and Freddy came once and was ready to cum again when Joe began fucking her. With so many cums for him, he lasted a long time, almost too much for Freddy. Both passed out after.

Essie woke Joe and Victoria, whom she’d been with most of the time when Joe was with Freddy. They climbed out of the huge bed, went to Joe’s bedroom, napped in Joe’s own huge bed, showered, dressed, and headed to the schooner. Where Joe and Essie had their honeymoon, sharing Victoria’s bed. Heading north, up to Iceland. They cruised along the coast of Europe. Reaching the Mediterranean before crossing back to New York harbor.

Essie had a job which enabled her such a long vacation. Political consultant. For nearly every part of politics. Advising PACs at the beginning. How to be more effective. Various legislators after that. Not just in gaining votes, but advising on voting themselves on different things. How a vote might affect their constituency or impact their next run. A sort of PR person, with the focus being on winning the argument. What Essie did best. Others joined the list. Judges. Boards. NGOs.

In a way what she did reflected who had been most influential to her growing up. Her father, being in charge of a PAC. Her mother aiding artists in having the best chance in gaining funding. Joe in his work polishing things for her mother early during her childhood. Cheryl in thoroughly researching all things involved in advice and persuasion. Moe in the PR, putting her clients in the best light. People instead of things being advertised.

And she wasn’t entirely on vacation. She had a staff. An extremely capable assistant. Gay so as not to be affected by her beauty as most men were. Performing triage on requests. Most acceptable to least. Most urgent to least. Postponing what she needed to actually attend. Letting Mark attend to those she didn’t have to. And people under them, mostly delegated to Mark. Researchers. Secretaries. Sort of sales people putting her name out there for possible assistance. Mostly female. All extremely capable. Essie always there for the hiring. Arguing as the tool to assure their acceptability.

She used the radio on the ship to check in with Mark nearly every working day. Worked on things he needed her to work on. Never more than a couple hours. Even if she had plenty more time. But she preferred being with Joe and Victoria. For Victoria, sometimes sharing her with Joe but mostly helping the ship sail. Becoming an able seaman. Just talking and making love with Joe. Or hearing him recite his poem.

It was Joe’s work on the voyage. An epic poem. A sort of male gaze of the female. Essie his inspiration, though the other women in his life, both past and present, influenced it as well. Joe’s Leaves of Grass. Like Whitman’s vast view of the world, it was Joe’s vast view of woman. Inevitably erotic, it had its explicitness, but could never be considered pornographic. Like a beautiful detailed painting of a completely exposed woman. Legs spread. Vagina open and shiny with desire. Nipples hard. Except the interior was also exposed. The proverbial heart. The life bringing womb. The secrets of the brain. Invisible thoughts. Though made less mysterious, just as the vagina could be less mysterious inside, through probing. Via conversation rather than a hard penis or a soft tongue or the sensitive fingertip. Hearing questions or verbal responses. Seeing emotional responses in expressions. Face and body. What he started learning when he was young. Body language. He could have an advanced degree in it.

What made the poem different, what made Essie happy about him writing it, was its celebratory tone. Just as Whitman celebrated the world. Not the darkness of his plays, reflecting his darker moods and his loss of confidence in himself. Joe emerging from the shadows and into brilliance. Regaining somewhat his old self.

This more positive mood didn’t completely disappear when they returned. It certainly lessened with the absence of his two ex-wives. But it was as if a light remained, giving texture to the shadows. An emotional chiaroscuro. His plays not quite so dark. Humor emerging more and more. Less acerbic. Funnier. It was one of his most wonderful discoveries. That he could make audiences laugh. Often laughing at his own expense. Laughing at his shadows.

Like Joe no longer being a bestselling novelist, Eddie no longer had hit singles, let alone hit albums. His fan base, the ones who would buy anything he put out, dwindled with each new release. He found new fans, but not enough of them to put him very high on the charts. Only Rhonda sold well on the MIRE label. But Rachel was careful with her output. A phenom every two to three years. The other bands Rachel found for the label never did better than Eddie. Most did worse.

Eddie didn’t let his diminished stardom bother him. Partly because he didn’t become a joke of himself, going out on oldies tours, even if it was what his old label wanted. But all he had to do was remind them that they’d screwed him on his reissues. That, after all the money he made for them, they played the greed card. Negotiated him into a much lower percentage than he deserved. His and Rachel’s mistake, not having Cheryl there at the signing, had its silver lining.

But the lessening residuals and the low sales of his new output weren’t enough to live on. Not at the level at which he’d become accustomed. But Rachel had Susan, who knew how to invest. Even so, they decided to sell the house in LA and the chateau in Paris. The Cube proved to be a successful investment and a place they could go for working vacations. The studio in the townhouse was where most of the recordings happened. Eddie was happy to create there with his best friend, Joe. Ironically more prolific than ever. An album almost every year. A small tour supporting it. Uncomfortable at the beginning with all the boos when he sang few of his old hits. Until he would begin his show with a long introduction/explanation.