Chapter 5

The glassed-in shower enclosure for the bathroom attached to the master bedroom, or, as Gwen promptly informed Bailey and Jennifer, "Billy's Room," was huge; the four of us fit in it comfortably, with no crowding. The only 'crowding, ' quite voluntary, found us rubbing together in slippery enjoyment.

I finally exerted my infinitesimal self-control, calling a halt to our fun. With only the cutest good natured grumbling, we rinsed off, dried each other, and dressed, finally meeting in the kitchen, clustering around the breakfast bar. Gwen served breakfast with Bailey and Jennifer's help, spooning double portions of scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns on a plate for me while they ate a bit less. Quite a bit less! All the while giggling at my rapacious appetite.

When my hunger was sated and we were all sipping our after meal drinks, I dug out a cigarette. While Bailey lit it for me, Gwen walked over to the stack of newspapers in the corner saved for recycling. She dug through several days' editions until she found what she was looking for. Folding the paper carefully, she set it in front of me, pointing to the several column wide picture. I looked and my jaw dropped. My cigarette dropped from nerveless fingers as I gaped at Gwen, saying incredulously, "That's Rusty fucking Carlyle. What the fuck are you talking about?"

I sat in utter consternation, reviewing my knowledge of Rutherford Forrestal 'call me Rusty' Carlyle. I took a swig of coffee and looked into their rapt expressions as I continued, "Senator Rutherford Forrestal 'call me Rusty' Carlyle, has become a contender in the presidential horse races. A Multi Hundred Millionaire, highly decorated Vietnam Veteran and Born Again fanatic, Rusty is a formidable candidate and a prodigious fundraiser. Senator Carlyle always scared me, by calling for religious fundamentalist involvement in setting ALL government policy. A scientist, he championed Intelligent Design. An Internet pioneer, he called for censorship of the Net with draconian penalties. Endorsed by NRA, VFW and various religious and family value groups. Rutherford Carlyle might be our next president."

Jennifer Angel suddenly moved to hug me, saying softly, "Billy, are you all right with this Rusty person being your daddy?"

I shook my head, suddenly angry, saying sharply, "He ain't my daddy. Fucking sperm donor. He was and is nothing. Gwen is my mother and father. Auntie Grace and my cousins with Gwen, they mean every goddamn thing to me. This asshole means NOTHING."

I looked into their concerned faces after my tirade. I took a deep breath, calming myself, then said contritely, "I'm truly sorry. What I should have said was that Jennifer, Bailey, and Diana are also now part of my family and also mean a great deal to me. I can only say this is so new to me, I don't always say the right things. Can you forgive me?"

With that said I had three bodies pressed against me, six arms holding me and it seemed a hundred lips kissing me as they were trying to hug, kiss and comfort me.

After things settled and Bailey had refreshed beverages, Gwen began relating her story with a very pained expression on her face. Jennifer and Bailey were quickly holding Gwen's hands as she whispered in a halting voice, slowly gaining volume, "The Bar C connected is a vast spread west of the Missouri River overlapping the North and South Dakota border. There was no such border when Clan Carlyle came to the Dakota frontier, and bought the original one hundred-section land grant from the tribes. Dakota weren't a territory. It wasn't even part of the United States. Our Rocking H, right next door was tiny by comparison, eight hundred acres of mighty poor grazing but it was our home."

She paused looking out the window, deep in recollection. With a wistful smile, she went on, "Grace and I were going to school in Bullhead, SD. Grace dropped out, pregnant. She married the Masterson fuckwit, who promptly got her pregnant again. Their relationship ended abruptly when he got drunk and beat her up. Once. We retaliated with me holding him at gunpoint, while Grace branded his ass with a red hot Rocking H iron. We moved her and the girls back to the Hadley Ranch."

She took a deep breath pushing the rest out slowly, "Poppa died that spring, in a riding accident. It was left to Grace and I to run the place. Momma was pining, just wasting away. We soon found out it was Pancreatic Cancer. That's when Rusty came into my life. We needed cash to tide us over -- desperately. He saw the problem. Hired me to clean and help out in the kitchen and around the Bar C homestead. I thought it was charity. It was. But with that needed charity was lust."

Now Gwen was getting the rhythm as she continued, her voice stronger. "I was young, real young with my long legs, just growing into my boobs, and oh so cute. Mrs. Carlyle hated the ranch, so she always stayed in Washington or New York. Rusty seduced me. To tell the truth, I didn't struggle too damn hard preserving my virginity. I became an apt pupil in the sexual arts for Rusty. We played out his kinks and twists. He'd snort coke off my belly then I'd fuck him with a strap on..."

She looked at our shocked faces and giggled, saying with a big grin, "... Then it just got really fucking depraved."

We were shaking our heads as Gwen picked up the thread. "Rusty admitted that it was my age, combined with a young looking face, that was the attraction. He'd come to like the young stuff during his time in South East Asia. The very young stuff if you get my drift. He'd travel to Bangkok for his fun. Millionaire Rusty always found a veritable sexual smorgasbord."

Now she smirked at us. "If you watch coverage of his arrivals at the airport, you'll nearly always see a young, diminutive Asian girl attached to his entourage."

Gwen's expression shifted. Angry now. She almost snarled, "We'd been together and did everything. Of course he told me he loved me. So I had no problem telling him that somehow our protection had failed and I was pregnant. He stared at me for a moment, picked up his phone calling his business manager, turned and walked out of the room. I never met or spoke to him again. Rusty didn't kiss me, hug me, or even say goodbye."

Gwen broke down crying. I held her awkwardly, while Bailey and Angel stroked and patted, soothing both of us. We ended up with Gwen sitting on my lap, her head on my shoulder. She lifted it as she spat out bitterly, "They were very efficient. I can never go back, even to visit the graves."

As I continued to hold her Gwen calmly finished her story, saying, "By this time the cancer had taken momma. The Carlyle family relocated Grace and her girls here, then I followed. The cattle ranch is still in our name; we get a rent check each year.

We finished my schooling here, going on with our lives under this shadow. They are buying our silence. All this, our life, houses, cars, and money are the result of our signing non-disclosure agreements and severing all ties back home."

Gwen smiled thinly as she added, "Rusty did forget to tell his family 'one little thing'. He was an exhibitionist and voyeur. We videotaped and photographed our trysts then watched them while we fucked, and recorded that. We kept all those at the Rocking H for fear of his wife's infrequent visits. I have them all."

I was flabbergasted, processing her last revelation. Finally I asked contemplatively, "But Mom, I mean Gwen. Why is he still paying -- he can't really still be worried about this? Not after all these years."

Bailey and Jennifer just looked thunderstruck at my question; Gwen was equally stunned. Finally she gathered her voice to say softly, "Do the math, William. Rusty is fifty-eight. He was 42 then, long married, already a senator. Our affair was no youthful indiscretion for him. I was not even fourteen when you were born, Billy. My videos and your DNA would be a 'career ending' scandal. Your existence and true identity must never be revealed if Rutherford Carlyle covets the presidency."

My mouth was an 'O' of surprise as my brain finally caught up! I must have looked like the home alone kid. Ah, FUCK!!! Every bit of repressed paranoia surged back into my psyche. Gwen, Jennifer and Bailey patted me gently while I tried to calm the mental maelstrom.

I looked up, to see only Gwen's loving expression filling my vision. She leaned in, kissing me with an infinite tenderness, as if apologizing for the dreadful news. That brought me out of my funk as I asked coolly, "Gwen, do we own any guns?"

Gwen giggled as she replied, "Billy, my loving master, your mommy was born and raised on a western cattle ranch. She could ride and shoot with the best of them. Grace and I still go to the range every week."

That little nugget shocked me as I said in wonder, "I never knew."

Gwen shook her head, smiling. "Well, you never asked before. You seemed to have no interest in firearms, hunting, or the outdoors for that matter, Billy."

I nodded. It was only true. I wasn't opposed to firearms. I just never expected to be 'exposed' to them. Well, I needed to be 'up to speed' big time. Like yesterday! How in the fuck do you cram for a test like this? I asked tentatively, "So we own guns?"