Chapter 6

I sat waiting in the quiet, sterile hospital room, my thoughts a tumultuous storm. My hand absently traced the bandages around my groin, a constant reminder of the nightmare I had endured. Lisa, my wife of seven years, had drugged me during supper and subjected me to an unspeakable act of betrayal. The doctor had said the swelling would go down eventually, that I would heal, but right now, the discomfort was all that I felt ... until I saw Kara and Tricia show up to collect me and discharge me from the hospital, taking me home to Kara’s place ... our new place. I wasn’t going to live with Lisa anymore, even assuming that she beat the criminal charges that landed her in jail after that night ... her and Steven, Dr. Baker.

Kara was a vision in the doorway, dressed in her usual leather jacket, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, her eyes a fiery mix of comfort and excitement. She had been my anchor through this whole ordeal, my confidant, my protector, and now, my caregiver. She had a way of looking at me that made me feel like she could see right through me, and I had no idea how she managed to maintain that air of confidence and strength in the face of everything.

“Ready to blow this joint, Alex?” she said with a smirk, her voice a mix of gravel and sweetness.

“I was ready before breakfast, but one last meal of hospital food was my fate,” I half-seriously complained, knowing that Kara and Tricia would likely dote on me during my recovery, even if they couldn’t do one particular thing for me until I was healed.

Tricia, Lisa’s cousin and the woman who had been my secret lover, stepped in, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. She had always been the life of the party, a free spirit who didn’t let the opinions of others weigh her down. Her blonde hair was a stark contrast to Kara’s, and she had a gentle touch that belied the fire I knew burned within her. She was quite different from Lisa, the woman who was pushed on me by my family, and it was a good kind of different, even if not always the same way as Kara’s version. I appreciated both of them for what they were.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a feast waiting for you at Kara’s,” she said, her voice light and cheerful, the kind that could make anyone forget their troubles, if only for a moment. “And I promise, no more hospital jello for you.”

The ride to Kara’s place, in Tricia’s car (the bike couldn’t hold three, of course) was a blur of painkillers and awkward small talk, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife. Kara’s house was a sanctuary of sorts, nestled in the outskirts of town, surrounded by lush trees and a sense of freedom that seemed a million miles away from the cold steel of the hospital. The scent of pine and fresh earth filled the air as we approached, a stark contrast to the antiseptic smell that had become all too familiar to me.

As soon as we stepped into the cabin, the warm embrace of home cooking wafted through the air. The aroma was heavenly, a symphony of comfort food that seemed to resonate with the very essence of my soul. Kara and Tricia had worked together, it seemed, to create a feast that was tailored to my every craving. They helped me out of my stiff hospital gown and into my birthday suit, which felt like an improvement in spite of being even more vulnerable. After all, if I couldn’t trust them, who could I trust? Also, they removed their own clothes, serving me this dinner in the nude.

They brought me meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, and caramelized carrots, washed down by some whiskey and Coke. They clearly wanted me relaxed, comfortable, and feeling much less pain. I couldn’t argue with that notion, so I lay there as they fed me, flirted with me, watched television with me, and even fed each other.

The TV played something in the background, but the real entertainment was the gentle caress of their hands and the soft whispers that danced around the room. They were trying to keep things light, but the air was charged with something else. Something wilder and more primal. The pain was a constant throb, but it was muted by the warmth of their bodies, the softness of their skin, and the promise of pleasure that I knew lay just beyond the horizon of my healing.

“This whiskey’s pretty good, ain’t it?” Kara asked me as she took another shot of the bourbon and Tricia followed suit.

“It’s definitely doing the job,” I said, the warmth of the liquor spreading through me. It was a smooth blend that seemed to melt the tension in the room. The pain was still there, but it felt distant, like it was happening to someone else.

The TV’s volume grew faint as my eyelids grew heavier, the comfort of the food and whiskey lulling me into a peaceful slumber. The soft giggles and whispers of Kara and Tricia were the last sounds I heard before I drifted off, the steady beat of my heart the only rhythm in the quiet night.

Several hours later, I awoke with a sudden jolt, a pressing need to relieve myself. The pain in my groin had dulled to a persistent throb, but it was the urgency of a full bladder that had me moving, albeit carefully. I shuffled to the bathroom, my eyes still adjusting to the dim light. The house was quiet, save for the distant sound of crickets outside.

As I approached the toilet, Tricia’s silhouette emerged from the shadows, her eyes glinting with something more than mere curiosity. She dropped to her knees in front of me, her hand gently cupping my cock. The shock of her action froze me in place for a moment.

“Let it go, Alex,” she murmured, her breath warm on my skin. “I’ve got you.”

I stared down at her, my thoughts racing, as I felt the first hot stream begin to leave my body. Tricia leaned in closer, her lips parting slightly, and before I could protest, she swallowed it down, her eyes never leaving mine. It was an act so unexpected, so raw, that I couldn’t help but feel a mix of shock, arousal, and something deeper. Something that hinted at a bond that went beyond friendship or even the passion of our recent affair.

Her eyes never left mine as she took it all, and the power of the moment washed over me. It was as if she was claiming me, marking me as hers in a way that Lisa never had. The taboo of it all was intoxicating, and my body responded in ways that surprised even me. I felt the last drops fall onto her eager tongue, and she swallowed them down with a satisfied look on her face.

Then, before I could say anything, she stood up and whispered, “Kara’s turn,” and moved aside, revealing Kara standing in the doorway. She had been watching, her eyes hungry, her breathing ragged. The sight of her made me hard, despite the pain. I didn’t know what to do, but my body was responding to them in a way that seemed to bypass my brain.

Tricia grabbed the mouthwash from the counter and squirted a generous amount into her mouth, swishing it around with the same enthusiasm she had shown earlier with my urine. She spit it out and rinsed her mouth, and then brushed her teeth, adding a breath mint to remove any trace of the acrid smell or taste.

Kara knelt underneath Tricia’s twat and opened her mouth, at which point Tricia let out a stream of hot piss down her throat. It was just as shocking as Tricia doing that for me, but I also found it strangely arousing, an act of extreme intimacy and submission, perhaps signaling that they took turns being in charge, rather than Kara being in command as often as she initially seemed to be.

The taste was bitter, but not entirely unpleasant. It was a part of Tricia, something she was sharing with Kara in a way that was more intimate than any kiss or caress. Kara took it all, her eyes closed in concentration as she swallowed, her cheeks hollowing out with each gulp. Then she followed Tricia’s example, washing and rinsing her mouth out, brushing her teeth, and using a breath mint. They both made damn sure not to keep that awful taste or smell in their mouths for too long.

When Kara peed down Tricia’s throat and she had to wash and rinse again, not to mention brush and use another breath mint, I wondered why. They both smiled at me and kissed me with a fierce intensity, right on the mouth, not a single trace of piss on their breaths, before Kara cleared her throat.

“We dig the golden showers ... but we can tell that you’d rather not do that yourself. It’s okay, Alex. We don’t expect anything like that from you, especially given your recovery, babe,” Kara reassured me now.

Her words didn’t stop the throb of arousal that was pulsing through me, though. The sight of Tricia on her knees, serving Kara like that, had ignited something within me that I couldn’t quite put into words. I was torn between the pain of my recent ordeal and the sudden, intense desire that was coursing through my body.

“Easy, soldier!” Tricia winked at me as they pulled me into a surprisingly large shower, even if a bit crowded nonetheless.

The water was hot and soothing, the droplets cascading down our naked bodies, washing away the sweat and tension of the day. They took turns gently washing me, their hands tenderly caressing my bruised flesh, the sting of the soap mixing with the pain from my recent surgery. Their touch was gentle, almost reverential, and I found myself leaning into it, letting them cleanse me both inside and out.

“Only upside to this ... it’s easier to clean your junk now,” Kara told me, “but I remember that you always kept it clean, unlike other guys with foreskins.”

Tricia giggled. “Yeah, but you can’t tell me you’re not happy to see your little buddy out in the open.”

“Our little buddy, and he’s not all that little, is he?” Kara laughed as she drew me closer, “oh, I should warn you that I ... make some money in less than ... legal ways. I always have.”

“She’s a pot dealer ... and grower,” Tricia explained now.

“No day job half of the time, no discernible source of income. Yeah, I kind of figured it out, babe,” I reassured her.

Kara’s smile grew wider, and she planted a kiss on my cheek. “Good. I like a man who can keep up. We’re also cam girls ... Tricia got me into that. We don’t fuck our subscribers, just take off our clothes for them.”

The revelation didn’t shock me as much as I thought it would. In that moment, it just made sense. They were both beautiful, sexual creatures, and the idea of them sharing themselves with an eager audience was somehow ... exciting. They weren’t exactly committed to fidelity with me, anyway, and I wouldn’t ask it of them. I just escaped those confines with Lisa. I wouldn’t put such shackles on other people. I relished my freedom and preferred that others did so, too.

Once we were all clean and dried, we settled into Kara’s oversized bed, the warmth of their bodies a comforting embrace. They took turns teasing me, their soft hands tracing the edges of the bandages, their fingers dancing around the areas that were still too sensitive to touch. It was a delicate dance of temptation, a silent promise of what was to come once I was fully healed. We returned to sleep for a bit, only to be awakened by my cell phone buzzing with a call.

It was Detective Ram, updating me about their investigation. Her voice was soft and silky, seductive in its own way, though I remembered that she was a lesbian. Evidently, her partner chose not to contact me, leaving it to her ... probably because he annoyed me that first day. I tried to keep my mind on the case, not on the mental image of a lesbian couple, one half of them with the earthy complexion common among Desi girls. Yeah, I didn’t need the distraction or erection likely to follow.

“Mr. Mulligan, we’ve got a breakthrough. Dr. Baker has agreed to plea bargain and testify against your wife. It looks as if she’ll be taking more of the fall than he. He’ll still lose his medical license, of course, but that’s an AMA matter, not ours or the DA’s,” Detective Ram reassured me now.

I took a deep breath, trying to process the news. “What does that mean for me?”

“A longer sentence for her means a slam-dunk divorce and probably no real property issues. It also means that you likely won’t need a restraining order, after all, as she was denied bail, of course,” the detective reassured me, “your wife will likely hit menopause before she is a free woman again.”

I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. It was the first piece of good news I had received in what felt like an eternity. “Thank you, Detective.”

“Just doing my job, Mr. Mulligan,” she said with a professional tone, but there was a hint of something more in her voice, a softness that suggested she understood what I was going through. “I’ll keep you updated. Look, my first girlfriend had bad BPD and was very abusive, to put it mildly. Very common, but not universal, with borderline personality disorder. Maybe she should be checked for that. In any case, I can relate. She used to pour her menstrual blood into my drinks, trying to bind me to her through some crazy occult spell.”

I was stunned, not knowing how to respond. It was clear that Detective Ram had her own demons, but she had managed to turn that pain into a weapon of justice. I thanked her again before ending the call, feeling a strange sense of kinship with the woman who had been tasked with dismantling my old life.

“Very sorry to hear that, Detective. Thank you very much for ... understanding,” I thanked her, taken aback.

“Yes, it made it tough to eat or drink anything that wasn’t packaged for a few weeks,” the detective recalled, “tough to trust anyone to pour drinks, you know.”

“I ... yeah, I can see that,” I murmured, my mind racing with the implications. The detective’s words hit home, and suddenly, my situation with Lisa didn’t seem so unique.

Maybe she did have borderline personality disorder, though that didn’t excuse anything. It explained it ... possibly, but there was still no justification for what she did. Borderlines were known to rush to violent extremes, particularly the women. Yes, it would certainly add up, wouldn’t it?

As I set the phone down on the nightstand, I felt the gentle press of Kara’s hand on my shoulder. “You okay, Alex?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Yes ... Detective Ram told me of her ... past girlfriend, her first one, who apparently had BPD and she thinks that Lisa might be suffering from that. Also, it seems that Dr. Baker is taking a plea deal and testifying against her. As soon as I can feel ... a bit more up to it, I’d like to retain an attorney, to push through with the divorce. Make a clean break, you know,” I resolved, feeling a little stronger as the ladies put on some music.

Kara nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. She turned up the volume on the stereo, and the deep bass of the music vibrated through the room. Tricia grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You know what, Alex?” she began, “we’ve got to keep your spirits up. You’ve been through hell.”

Without another word, the two of them began to dance in front of me, their bodies moving in perfect sync, their bare skin gliding together under the dim, flickering lights of the bedroom. The sight was mesmerizing, a ballet of passion and desire that seemed to push the walls of the room back. They danced to the beat, their movements fluid and sensual, their eyes never leaving mine as they touched and teased each other.

The air grew thick with lust, my breath catching in my throat as I watched them. Kara’s hands traced the curves of Tricia’s hips, her fingers dipping lower to caress the softness of her skin. Tricia’s breasts bobbed gently with the rhythm, her nipples hardening into tight peaks as Kara’s thumbs brushed against them. They were putting on a show for me, a show that was both erotic and empowering, a declaration of their love and support in the face of what I had endured.

“Okay, enough funny business ... breakfast time! I don’t have the energy for anything super fancy right now, but fried eggs, over easy, buttery hash brown patties, and venison sausage?” Kara suggested, lighting a joint and putting it in my hand.

Tricia nodded. “You got it, Kara. And let’s not forget the gravy.”

The smell of breakfast cooking filled the cabin, making my stomach rumble despite the discomfort in my groin. I took a hit of the joint, the potent smoke filling my lungs and sending a warm buzz through my body. The pain was still there, but the haze of the marijuana helped to ease the edges. It certainly aided me in keeping my appetite.

As Tricia danced around the kitchen, flipping eggs and sizzling sausage, Kara joined me on the bed, her hand sliding down my chest and resting on my abs. Her touch was gentle, almost therapeutic, as she leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You know, Alex, we’re here for you. Whatever you need, just say the word. You’re our man.”

I couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for them. They were taking care of me, not just physically, but emotionally as well. It was a stark contrast to the coldness of my recent past, and it was something I hadn’t realized I needed until it was there, wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

“I should never have married Lisa ... I should have...,” I started to say, but Kara put her gentle hands on my shoulders and my back, caressing my flesh.

“You should have married me,” she said, “but it’s not too late, you know. You’re getting a divorce ... and you can have two wives. Tricia and me.”

The words hung in the air like a declaration of war or a proposal of peace. I took a deep breath, trying to sort out the emotions that were swirling inside me like a tornado. On one hand, the idea of being with these two beautiful, fiery women was incredibly tempting. On the other hand, I had just been through hell, and I still had a bit of a road to recovery. They thankfully didn’t seem to be rushing me.

“We’ve talked about it,” Kara continued, her voice low and steady. “We both love you, Alex. And we’re not asking for a ring or a white picket fence ... and we’re not going to pressure or nag you. Do this ... on your terms, in your time, when you’re good and ready, okay?”

Their words settled over me like a warm embrace, and I nodded, unable to speak through the thickness in my throat. The idea of being with them both was like a beacon of light in the darkness that had been my marriage. But could it work? Could we really make a life together, especially with everything that had happened?

We spent the day in a haze of TV and weed, the three of us lounging on the bed, the pain in my groin a distant echo to the laughter and camaraderie we shared. The joints passed back and forth, our laughter growing louder, our bodies growing heavier with each inhale and exhale. The smoke curled around us like a protective shield, warding off the outside world and all its troubles.

Supper was a homely affair of chicken and dumplings, the kind of meal that made you feel like everything was going to be okay. The tender chicken melted in my mouth, the doughy goodness of the dumplings a delightful contrast to the savory gravy. The food was a balm to my soul, a comfort that I hadn’t realized I needed until it was there, filling me up with warmth and the sweetness of home. The tea was an excellent beverage, served sweet and cold, a great contrast to the hot stew.

As we sat around the kitchen table, my phone buzzed with the sound of an incoming call. I looked at the screen and saw it was my mother, Margaret. I sighed, bracing myself for the conversation that was to come. Kara and Tricia shared a knowing glance, their expressions a mix of empathy and determination. They knew how much this call could weigh on me.

“Hi, Mom,” I answered, my voice tentative.

“Hi, honey ... look, I know that you’re suffering ... and I hope that the ... recovery is going well. I’m sorry that we didn’t make it to the hospital so far. Are you still there or have you been released? We had to keep our ... distance from the situation ... plenty of wrong on both sides and we didn’t wish to be too harsh or judgmental. That’s something that you need to remember. Lisa did wrong, but she acted from love. A wife’s love, sometimes ... misguided, but always meaning very well for her husband and her marriage, protective of her family.

“I hope that your ... marriage can heal as well as your body. That’s going to require you to be the bigger person and drop these ... pointless criminal charges. It’s not right, not proper to divorce your wife or husband or try to get them put away in prison. That’s not appropriate, Alex. We raised you better than that,” Mom told me.

“So, you’re condoning what she did or downplaying it. It was an assault, Mom. It was a crime and she deserves to sit in prison and be away from people, so she can pay her debt to society and not harm others,” I insisted, disappointed, but hardly shocked at Mom’s take ... problems were always swept under the rug in the Mulligan family ... we’d earned our surname.

“Alexander, please,” Mom’s voice took a stern tone, “you know that we don’t do dramatics in this family. Your father and I, we’ve talked to the lawyers. We’re trying to get things ... resolved. Be a good boy and let your wife come home to you ... come home to her. Don’t cheat, or don’t get caught in the future, and let this be a lesson to both of you ... a painful one, sure, and I’m sorry about that. But let’s leave the law out of this, okay?”

Her words were a punch to the gut, but I remained firm. “Mom, she drugged me and had a doctor mutilate me. That’s not just a spat or a misunderstanding. That’s assault. That’s a crime. This is why I never wanted to marry her in the first place. And yes, I noticed that you didn’t visit me in the hospital. Annie did. Kara did. Tricia did. But not you guys. I’m staying with Kara and Tricia, and they’re taking good care of me ... helping me heal.”

“What?!” she gasped, “you can’t be serious, Alex. That ... whore and that ... savage? They’re not family!”

“Neither is Lisa, after what she did to me. She’s dead to me, Mom, and you can tell her that. Kara’s not a savage. She’s a Nez Perce Indian, likes motorcycles, knows how to cook great meals as well as simple meals, and how to treat her friends. Tricia is a sweetheart, has taken me and given me great care. Her beauty was only half of her appeal ... so was her kind heart. She’s not a whore. She is family, too, your own niece, if you remember. Like I said, she, Kara, and Annie were the only ones to visit me in the hospital. My own parents and my other siblings and cousins, aunts and uncles, couldn’t be bothered,” I laid down my own guilt trip now.

Mom’s voice grew cold. “Annie? She’s another one that needs a bit of gentle reproof. She’s been ... acting strange, unhappy with her husband, complaining too much. Better or worse means exactly that.”

“Does it mean getting mutilated by your spouse?” I asked her firmly.

“Alex, she didn’t mean it that way,” Mom tried to reason, “she was just ... upset. Surely you can see that. You two have always had your differences, but marriage is about working through those.”

“Differences are things like takeout choices and interior decor, not aggravated assault, drugging, and mutilation, Mom. Those are crimes. There’s no gray area. Besides, it’s out of my hands now. The DA and law enforcement are handling it now,” I reminded her, “they seem to take a much dimmer view of this. If only I hadn’t listened to you guys and married her, wasted my life in this shame of a marriage. Seven years of my life, down the drain.”

Mom’s voice grew quieter. “Alexander, we only want what’s best for you. But we’re here. Your father and I, we’re still here.”

“Here being where you’ve been the whole time that Annie and I have suffered through ruinous marriages, her getting neglected by that vile drunk of a husband and me getting my junk sliced. Here being somewhere other than your son’s hospital room, where only three people in his life cared enough about him to visit. Yes, I know all about here ... here is Denial, not just a river in Egypt,” I countered now.

Mom didn’t respond right away, and I took a deep breath, trying to keep my anger in check. I knew she was just trying to protect the family’s reputation, but I was tired of living a lie.

“Alex, please,” she finally said, her voice trembling, “we’re worried about you. Your father and I, we’ve been praying for you every day. We just want to help you through this. We probably should have visited you. I’m sorry about that. But I think that you need to rethink this whole criminal prosecution thing ... and the divorce. Marriage is a sacrament. Divorce and remarriage are adultery. You know the Church’s position on this. Do you really want to be denied the sacraments?”

I felt the weight of her words, the guilt that she was trying to lay on me. But I was done with guilt. I was done with playing by everyone else’s rules. “Mom, I know you guys mean well, but this isn’t about the Church or the family’s reputation. This is about me, and what’s right for me. And what’s right for me is to move on,” I said firmly, taking a deep drag from the joint, “and the Church sometimes grants annulments in certain cases. Perhaps they will here ... there’s certainly grounds.”

The line was quiet for a moment, and then she sighed. “Okay, Alex. We’ll ... we’ll talk about this later, when everyone’s calmer. Just ... just don’t make any hasty decisions.”

“Hasty, like assault, drugging, and mutilation of one’s spouse? That kind of hasty?” I dug in the reminder one last time of the severity of the crime.

Mom sighed again. “I know it’s a tough pill to swallow, but think of the bigger picture. Think of the family,” she pleaded.

“Funny how that’s always a one-way street. Family never thinks of me,” I told Mom.

“Alex, don’t be like that,” she said, but her voice was weary.

“Like what, Mom? Like a man who won’t stand for his wife trying to emasculate him and get away with it? Like a man who won’t take his wife back after she’s been in jail for assault and battery?” I retorted, feeling the anger bubble up in my chest.

“Alexander, please,” she began, her voice strained, “we just want you to think about the consequences of your actions. You’re our son, and we love you.”

“Oh, I thought about the consequences of my actions. Lisa should have done the same,” I retorted.

Margaret sighed heavily, the line thick with her unspoken disappointment. “Son, you know we’re not perfect. Your father and I ... we just want what’s best for you.”

With that, the line went dead, indicating that either she hung up ... or the call was dropped. Either way, I wasn’t about to call her back and keep up the circular discourse. I didn’t have the spare oxygen to waste on such things while still recovering from the assault.

The room was silent for a beat, the only sound the crackling of the TV. Then Kara spoke up, her voice gentle. “You know, Alex, your mother’s words, they’re not uncommon. People have a hard time accepting reality when it’s slapped in their faces. My uncle molested my sister and not a word was ever said to him about it. He’s still allowed to attend family reunions and everything.”

“Remind me to keep any kids of ours away from your uncle, then,” I replied caustically.

Kara chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry, that’s a given. But you know what I mean. Sometimes people ... they just can’t face the truth. Or they don’t want to. Not that I approve, of course. Hence my example. It’s an ugly thing, burying the truth. But it’s all too common. Don’t condone what your parents are doing, but please remember that they are all too human. That’s my point. As for Lisa, though, that bitch can rot.”

Tricia nodded in agreement, her expression hardening as she set the plates down. “You’ve got us now, Alex. We won’t let anyone hurt you again. And we’re not going anywhere,” she assured me, her hand resting on my arm, “don’t cut off your family ... just don’t rely on them too much.”

“My sentiments exactly!” Kara high-fived her.

The room was tense for a moment, the echo of my mother’s voice still lingering like a bad taste. But as I looked at Kara and Tricia, I felt a sense of belonging, of strength that I hadn’t felt in a long time. They were my chosen family now, and I knew they had my back, no matter what.

“And I love that you did that, by the way ... assumed that we’d have kids. You, me, and Tricia, raising our very own brood ... it seems that you’re already committing to that, ahead of schedule. A very nice bonus, that,” Kara smiled at me, “I guess that your mother is going to have to deal with this ‘savage’ and her half-savage brats in the family for years to come.”

Tricia giggled, pouring gravy over the steaming dumplings. “Well, I’d like to think I’d bring a touch of class to the whole savage affair,” she said, her eyes sparkling with humor, “even if I’m a whore.”

“You both do,” I said, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the weed. “Thank you, for everything.”

Kara leaned over and kissed me softly, her hand lingering on my cheek. “You don’t have to thank us, love. We’re just doing what we know is right. Besides, we’ve got some seriously fun plans for when you’re all healed up,” she winked, sending a bolt of excitement through me despite my current state.