Chapter 13: Weird Conversations Day

Dana

Saturday, I woke up horny. And saying that, I can all but hear my lovers snickering—like that’s news? What I mean is, I was extra horny. It’d been only two and half days since I last kissed them, yet my body was surely craving their loving.

Or even just their presence.

A little sunlight filtered around the hotel curtains, enough that I could see Brie laying still in bed—making those low breaths, not quite snores, she does when she’s asleep. Getting up would likely wake her. If I was careful, took it quiet and slow, I could jill off, just enough to dull the edge. Even if she caught me, it’d be nothing she hadn’t seen every week, from classmates Naked In School.

I chose a fantasy of the three of us—Teri and Mike and me. I love each of them, and love being with each one, but I feel most complete, most whole, when we’re all together—I adore that. This time, I imagined my two lovers were, for no-doubt nefarious reasons, ganging up on me as they sometimes do. Doing me slowly, drawing me out, forcing me to be quiet—we had to be quiet because, um, because ... avoiding the aliens. Or whatever. Didn’t matter, not with Teri lipping breasts and neck and jaw and Mike licking and sucking and fingering below, both holding me still.

I started out watching Brie, to make sure I wasn’t disturbing her, but seeing her disturbed my pure fantasy, and I closed my eyes. A few minutes later, I came softly. I checked her again.

Brown eyes bright, watching me. Oooops.

Brie stared at me stone-faced. No shame, I reminded myself. That’s been a good mantra for all three of us. Just as I was starting to worry anyway, she chuckled lightly. “Miss them?”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Even more than I thought.” An admission that made my heart pang all the more. So much for the lassitude of post-orgasmic bliss.

Brie nodded, still laying in her bed. After a few heartbeats, “I admit, back when you three got together, I was skeptical. But you guys—you’re committed. And you just ... fit together.”

We are, and we do. But what brought this on?

“Don’t mind me,” she went on. “Just thinking—seeing this wedding, even through a remove.”

And that reminder of my father definitely used up my bliss. I was feeling more and more weirded by the impending wedding. Worried about the weirdness of the day. “Yeah, that.” Time to pretend normalcy. I sat up, adjusting my sleep-shirt as I did. “You want first shower?”

After our hotel buffet breakfast, Brie and I found a small round table in the corner of the atrium garden, tucked between two vine-covered pillars. Yellow trumpet flowers watched over our shoulders as we sifted yesterday’s feedback and sketched out our last few revisions and corrections to the workshop workbook. Then, since we had until mid-afternoon, when the wedding started coming together, we dove in—editing the master document on our tablets. It was a good work session.

During Brie’s shower, fifteen minutes before his start time, I’d sent Mike, Luck! I’d thought of adding, Holding you in the Light, but he knew me well enough by now to know I meant that. Teri added, strength, which made me chuckle. He hadn’t responded, but I knew he’d be focused on getting ready.

Which meant his text back arrived two hours later, around 9: 1:41:53.

I grinned like a loon. (Do loons grin? or just laugh? I made a mental note to look that up.) A full 16 minutes faster than last year. I sent him a gif of Kermit the Frog flailing his arms yay!!! then started a video call with just him. He declined with Talk later?—probably still recovering. I gave him a thumbs up, then a bunch of confetti emoji.

“Mike?” Brie asked.

“Yup—in awesome time,” I said as I tapped through the race website menus. “Doesn’t look like official results are up yet, though.”

I told Mom to give Mike a big hug for me.

An hour later, Brie and I finished our edits. All of them. That was it—we were ... done? It was a weird feeling. Did Teri feel this suddenly empty, when she realized a book was finished? Did Mike, after finishing his race?

I looked at Brie. She returned my gaze beneath ash-blonde bangs tousled from brushing them back. I broke the silence. “So should we?”

“Well, we’ve got commitments from the Cheyenne East and Carbondale chapters to beta test it within three weeks. But I don’t think they’ll find anything major—and if they do, we won’t have the time to act on it for the first edition.”

I nodded. “So should we?” I repeated.

Brie took a slow breath, and nodded. I nodded back. We were doing it.

“Should you what?” said a voice behind me. Cin.

I turned around, and my attention was immediately captured. My body fizzed slightly. Yup, I was definitely crushing on her. I can deal with this, I told myself. It’d be easier if Teri and Mike were with me, but it’s not like I hadn’t managed my crushes before we got together.

“Hey, Cin,” I said, as casually as I could.

She wore her baby-dyke uniform again—this time, with a pink tank-top and black-and-white plaid outer shirt. She’d refreshed the pink in her curls to something like dark magenta and wore matching nail polish.

“Good morning,” Brie said. “We just decided that, yes, we’re ready to publish the workbook for our Escorts training workshop.” She tapped our copy, splayed open on the table, flagged with post-its.

“Publish as in...?”

I let Brie field this—all the more interaction between the two. “Make it available on Amazon for any Program Escorts chapter, or potential chapter, to buy and use. We’re aiming to have the initial version live in a week, to give new chapters time to train over the summer.”

“That’s cool,” Cin said. She hesitated, then nodded at the other chair at our little table. “May I?”

“Please,” I said, and gathered away our papers.

We talked a little about the Escorts—I again had Brie take point—but in a lull, Cin chewed her lower lip, looking at me. In hopes she was about to ask for alone time with Brie, I gave her an encouraging look. She came to a decision and asked, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.” I had no idea where this was going, but I could always just not answer. Couldn’t be too personal, if she was asking in front of Brie.

“How does it work, going steady with two people?”

Okay, not expecting that. By way of looping her back in as well as satisfying my own curiosity, I asked Brie, “What does it look like to you, from the outside?”

“It’s—it’s interesting. Sometimes we’ll see all three of them together, sometimes it’s two of them, any two, on a date or hanging out. They really are a three-couple—a trouple?”

“Triad,” I supplied. “That’s pretty much how it works. We’re three couples as well as all three together. As for how we make it work, we talk. A lot. We need to make sure that no couple gets priority over the others, that no one feels left out or unloved. Plus, yanno, we’re all best friends—we like hanging with each other.” Which statement made me twinge—I was still, I had to admit, smarting from Mike’s dressing down a week ago. Between finals and traveling, I hadn’t had much time to make my last sentence live true.

Cin shook her head. “That—wow.”

“It’s work,” Brie said.

“More than my previous girlfriend, and she was high-maintenance,” I admitted. “But I don’t mind it at all—it’s just a part of being together.”

“How—” Cin paused. “How did you get together, anyway? I mean, who asked who?”

Brie broke into a grin. “It was the magic of the NIS Program.” Off Cin’s look, she explained, “They went through their week together.”

“No way.”

“Way,” I said. “We were studying algebra together, naked of course, and reeeaaally horny. Teri hadn’t yet realized she’s bi, so we didn’t go far, just made out a bit for relief. A few days later, after a Program incident, Teri wanted comforting and we went all the way. End of our week, we decided to try staying together long-term, and worked out how we wanted us to work.” At which memory—yeah. A really big pang. I sighed, sliding forward to lean on the table. Off Cin’s look, I explained, “Just got hit with missing them.”

Brie put her hand on mine and squeezed, and Cin echoed her on my other hand. My skin tingled where she touched me.

Cin licked her lips. “So it’s just you three—no one else?”

Was this some sort of California openness thing? At least she wasn’t disapproving, like some back home, but it still felt weird. Though, wait, why was she asking—wondering if I was available to her?

Brie jumped in, “They’re an exclusive, committed relationship that just happens to have three people instead of two.” She grinned. “Which makes it all the more fun, watching other kids fall over themselves, crushing on her, especially in workshops.”

I gave her a Look, but her grin remained unrepentant—admittedly I hadn’t put any quell into it. I wanted to go light on that, after yesterday. My phone dinged.

Cin considered me with a fizz-making smile. “I can imagine.”

Okay, ganging up on me was annoying, but it was doing something together—which was on task for getting them together.

My phone dinged again. I had two texts from Teri: a different gif of a flailing-arm Kermit, followed by a gif of Totoro roaring. Hee. Mike laughed at the second and added a gif of a guy in a racing chair crossing a finish line, raising his arms in triumph, then, How’d the panel go?

Good question—I thumbs-upped it. While waiting for the answer, I checked the race website: Mike was 2nd place in his division, and one Amber Simmons was 5th in hers. Awesome. The foot runners weren’t up yet—probably still straggling in—so I couldn’t check for Rashaun and his girlfriend. It was, yes, a little rude to ignore the girls, but it got them talking without me.

After half a minute, Teri sent back a thumbs-up emoji. She had a signing right after the panel, so probably still busy. I hoped she was getting enough introvert downtime. I’d find out on tonight’s call.

“Speaking of them constantly talking to each other,” Brie said to Cin.

I decided to take the high road and not stick out my tongue at her. They laughed at me anyway.

We were in the middle of a light lunch grabbed from the hotel restaurant when Dad called.

“Pumpkin, listen, let us into your room.”

I take his ordering me around even less well than I do Teri’s. I got up and walked around an atrium pillar for privacy. “What? Why? And who’s we?”

“Robert and I, of course. To get dressed.” A muffled voice in the background. “Oh, and Greg, too.”

I knew I would regret asking this, but I did anyway. “What’s wrong with your suite?”

“Because Sandi and Mary are using it—you know that.”

Well, no, I didn’t. I wanted to argue, but then realized this would be a good excuse for leaving Cin and Brie alone together. “Okay, I’ll come up and let you in.” And straighten out anything, ah, personal Brie or I might have left out. We’re pretty neat, but just to be sure—this was my father we’re talking about.

I hung up and returned to the girls.

“What is it?” Brie asked.

“I’m going to let Dad into our room, so he and the groomsmen can prepare.” I looked at Cin. “Why can’t they use Greg’s room?”

“He’s not staying in the hotel—he and Kate have a thing, something with her family I think.” She didn’t sound pleased by that. Another data point.

I nodded. “Back in a few.”

And meant it—I mean, throwing Cin and Brie together was all and well, but not at the expense of spending one minute more with my father than I had to.

I’d insisted I wasn’t getting involved with any wedding prep—especially since I was five chapters into Stars Burn Slow, the second Downstar novel—but when Brie said she was willing to come along if I helped Cin into her bridesmaid dress, I unbent myself that much. There is such a thing as too much pride in purity. Especially since, hello, more time for Cin with Brie.

“But what about you guys?” Cin asked.

“We can dress when you’re done,” Brie assured her.

The bridal party turned out to be Cin as a bridesmaid and Sandi’s friend Mary V as matron of honor—there was another Mary, Mary Z, talking intensely with the florist on the phone. Their dresses were deep, almost-purple pinks matching Cin’s hair and nails. Those had been done this morning, when all three had a spa and makeover treatment.

It actually looked pretty good on Cin, and it wasn’t just my crush thinking that. “Nice,” Brie told her.

“Very nice,” I agreed. To the rest of the party, I asked, “Anything else?”

Sandi shook her head, then stopped herself. Uh oh. “Well, um, I just remembered.”

What now? Was volunteering this much a mistake?

Sandi made a weak smile. “There’s one more duty for you today—wedding photographs, after the ceremony. I apologize for not mentioning it before.”

Oh for—! Really now. And right after what my father pulled last night. “Not ‘mentioning’ it?”

Sandi winced. “Yyyyes. I really am sorry—it simply slipped my mind.”

I was beginning to suspect that she and Dad were well matched in many ways. At least she seemed genuinely apologetic about forgetting things, instead of blustering for cover. Which, come to think of it, was something worth encouraging.

I wanted to be mulish, despite the pettiness. I don’t like the phrase ‘not the hill worth dying on’ because, well, war. It still felt appropriate here. I grimaced a harumph to put my displeasure on record, then sighed. I managed to not flounce out my “Fine.”

“And given you need to look nice for the photos,” Brie said, “we need to get dressed.”

Mary V eyed me. “I should think so.”

It was tempting to claim that surely a navy cardigan is wedding-nice attire, but that would have been worlds of Not Helpful. I told Sandi, “We’ll head back to our room now.”

“Who’s doing your makeup?”

I shook my head.

Brie smirked. “Hello, she’s the Quaker girl.”

“Oh.” I could all but see wheels turning in the older women’s heads.

Cin looked puzzled. “I thought you claimed you were the femme?”

As if girly-girl is the only way to perform femme. She really was such the baby-dyke. “While my girlfriend is butch, my boyfriend likes natural girls. I strike a balance between the roles.”

Mary V gave me a matronly stink-eye. “Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

There are times it would be nice to have Mike’s ability to raise one eyebrow. I resorted to side-eying her a moment, keeping my focus on Cin and Sandi.

It was the latter who helped out. “That’s besides the point, Mary.”

I nodded my thanks, then said to Brie, “Let’s go kick Dad out of our room.”

I could all but feel the temperature of the room go down. “What,” Sandi said, “is Jim doing in your room?”

“That’s where the groomsmen are preparing,” I explained.

Sandi did not exactly roll her eyes, then gave Mary V a Look. The latter made a bigger stink-eye and said, “I’ll take care of it.”

I do not, as a rule, like to use authority figures to take care of my problems. But to deal with my father? Oh yes, I’ll gladly use a matron-of-honor-shaped prod.

For his wedding, Dad wore a light-colored suit, of course, but bright white instead of his usual buff linen—and his shirt was the same pastel pink as Sandi’s dress. His tie was matching white. The groomsmen (Robert as best man and Greg as usher) wore black suits and ties with shirts the same almost-magenta as the bridesmaids—the contrast between the couple and their attendants was striking. Surprisingly pretty, actually.

The ceremony itself was so, so weird. I mean, it probably looked normal to most people—certainly Brie seemed to like it. But the idea of having a pastor or a judge or a whoever marry two people instead of the two pledging themselves—it just feels, well not wrong exactly, but not the right way to go about it. Of course, the idea of needing a pastor or priest or whoever to mediate between me and the Inner Light that is That of God within us all is just bizarre. Maybe this is what Mike means when he calls me “irredeemably Quaker.”

At least it was relatively short, with only a little sermonizing.

Afterwards, as I feared, the photos were annoying. While most invitees drifted across the open atrium to the reception area, I posed for pics of me with Dad, me with Dad + Sandi, and the whole blended family. At least the ‘required’ pictures were taken quickly and I was released from duty.

As I crossed the atrium, I met an unexpectedly familiar face—a Michael from yesterday.

“Oh—Dana!” Michael Stilton said, pulling his eyes up from my breasts. “What are you—oh, Partlow. Of course.” He turned to the woman with him. “She led yesterday’s workshop.”

“Oh! Really,” she drawled.

“Brie and I are partners,” I protested, “we do these together.”

“Dana’s the primary architect of the NIS Program Escorts, how they operate and are organized.” Not exactly untruthful, but to hear Brie’s contributions diminished like this always burns me. “Both she and it are quite impressive. The workshop, the way the girls run it—I’ve been to sessions run by professionals that were far worse, both less organized and less effective.”

Okay, including Brie in that ‘girls’ helped a bit. I still wanted to deflect. “Why are you here?”