Many thanks to Literotica author 'englander1961' for her help, editorial services, encouragement and a title much better than my original, which has elevated her to the status of House Goddess of Sexy Story Titles. Thanks to Sammi Scott, aka Titsy McYarn, the Cute at the Heart of the Abyss for her help and valuable critique. Thanks to Literotica author 'KY ridgerunner' for the stories that planted the idea in my head months ago. A belated and much overdue thanks to John Hasty for his peerless editing. Bounteous thanks to Kevin for his incredibly thorough critiquing and voluminous notes.
After you've read this, if you have any inclination at all to comment, please do so, either by email or on the comment board... The best way for me to grow and improve as an author is to hear from the people who read my work.
I welcome constructive critiques and non-abusive comments. I will answer, in at least a semi-prompt manner, any email that comes with an email address.
If you feel you must respond in a hateful or angry fashion, you may put your head down upon your desk and do so, quietly to yourself, for as long as you feel it necessary. This story may not be copied to other sites without my permission.
If you have not read the earlier installment(s) of this tale, it would probably help you to make sense of this one if you did so.
* * * * *
In short order Nicki and Tatiana were in the hotel bar, sipping their drinks and watching the world go by outside. They were quiet, silent in each other's company, but it was a companionable silence.
It was Nicki who first broke it in a significant way.
"Called my office this evening... told my editor I'd need more time off."
"So, what'd he say to that?"
"Said to take as much time as I needed... isn't like I don't have the vacation built up."
"So, what's the problem?"
"You mean, other than parties unknown trying to kill my brother and his lover?"
Tatiana laughed. "Yeah, other than that little issue."
"He very subtly reminded me of stories that were on the back burner, waiting for me, stories that he wanted on his desk in a reasonable amount of time... and I realized that I no longer give a shit."
"How so?" the older woman asked, motioning the waitress for another of the same.
"Ms. Turov-"
"Call me 'Tattie'."
"Tattie, when I came down here, I wanted to learn from my brother how to let go and be who I am and still have a life, along with my career, how to not let my job become all that I am. I mean, I've seen him... he loves advertising... he loves the people he works with, he loves what he does. He's in heaven when the creative juices are flowing and a brainstorming session is going on all cylinders. He's laughing and bouncing off walls and inviting everyone else to bounce off walls too, not necessarily in sync with him, but in their own patterns as well and somehow out of that divine chaos comes the campaign and then he and Karen hunker down and start shaping it, molding it, and he's like a kid building a soapbox derby car... serious, but always with that 'Oh, this is gonna be so cool and go so fast!' glint in his eyes. And while he's at the office that process is his whole world.
"And when he walks out of the office, it's like a light switch. He leaves it behind. He used to stop for a drink or three on the way home, not to relieve the tension of the job but the tension of the freeway coming home from the job... the job was left behind. He has a life, people he loves and who love him. I mean, I don't count the 'Angie years'... but other than them, however great his joy in his work, it pales in comparison to the joy he takes in living his life.
"With me it was always the opposite. My job was my life... there was nothing else for me in the world but the story I was working on, or the story I was thinking of writing after that, or the one after that. There was me and the stories and nothing was more important. I'd run on adrenaline and caffeine and sometimes other pharmaceuticals as well, whatever it took to get the story done; interviews, research, the writing, the polishing, the fact-checking, the rewrites... and when it was all over and done with, I'd have to tranq myself just to relax, just to realize that it was over. So I'd sleep a few days and then I'd be faced with what jokingly passed for my life... or the next story. The next story always won that showdown. I'd run back to my obsession as fast as I could and throw myself into it as hard as I could, anything to get away from the fact that I hated my life.
"So I came to visit, hoping to learn his secret... hoping to be able to put things in perspective."
"And what's happened has done that for you, hasn't it?" Tatiana asked, taking a sip of her drink.
"Oh yeah," Nicki said, smiling ruefully, "it's been a crash course in perspective. I've realized that all my acquaintances in Atlanta, and that's pretty much all I have is acquaintances, don't equal one 'friend'... friends like Harry and the family down here have... friends who put their lives on hold to be there for each other," she said, arching her eyebrows at Tatiana.
The old woman laughed. "One of the advantages of bein' your own boss... you can take time off when you want it.
"It's really no big thing, Nicki. I've known Carol for quite some time... love her dearly. We share some very fond memories of an exceptional man. The more I see of this family that's coalescin' around her and Harry, the more I like it. Good people, all of them... not to say they don't all have their issues, but they're good people nonetheless.
"I've secluded myself from people for far too long. At first I did it because it was convenient. I had my work, it's much easier to work at night, sleep during the day... but all of that was an excuse in a way... like you I was lonely and I didn't like my life. So I hid from it, hid to keep from being hurt... and when I had the money, I started attractin' 'companions' like Peter. Useless, vain, vapid... but the chatterin' noise they made allowed me to believe I wasn't alone. The friction of our sex lives allowed me to believe I was loved.
"And then Carol popped back into my life, draggin' along these people and I felt comfortable with them... accepted by them... I allowed myself to bask in the reflection of their love and pretend it was directed towards me... and I realized that some of it , oddly enough, was. When they say that 'any friend of Carol's' thing, they really mean it. That, like Carol, they could love me just for existin', and for bein' a part of their lives. They didn't need to know me all that well, or psychoanalyze me... they loved me because I'd never given them a reason not to. Do you have any concept how rare that is?"
"Oh yeah, got a real firm grip on it... and got a short taste of it myself before everything went to shit."
"Well, it ain't gonna be shit forever. So, I gather you're strongly considerin' tellin' your editor to shove it up his ass and stayin' down here for awhile?"
"Awhile... maybe a lot longer..."
* * * * *
Margo shuddered through another orgasm, intense and forceful, as Kelly licked and sucked her clitoris, arms wrapped around her thighs. Carol lay curled up on her side next to Margo, her mouth locked onto Margo's breast, her hands gripping her Madam's arm. Margo needed this time with her wives. No one ever needed to know how very close she'd come to losing it, how very close she'd been to giving up in the park. There were eternities of silent prayer and non-stop pleading with Harry not to leave them. Feelings she wanted to, needed to, forget because of the hopelessness and helplessness that lay beneath them.
The three women clutched at each other as though in danger of drowning, their act of love seeming more the desperate joining of people fearing death. The gentleness of their normal loving was gone, replaced by a frantic and furious passion as they writhed on the bed, taking turns being the center of attention. Their love-making seemed aimed to exhaust them, driving away their worries and fears with physical effort and sexual release.
Some time later Carol found herself on her knees, her cunt forced down upon Margo's face as she thrust into Carol with her tongue. Carol's mouth was latched on to one of Kelly's breasts as if she never intended to let go and at that moment, that wasn't far from the truth. Carol was fixated on breasts at the moment, a part of her needing the sensation of nursing at a mother's tit.
Kelly seemed to understand this instinctively.
"There, there, Baby Girl, I've got you... it's all right, everything's gonna be just fine," she murmured to Carol softly, stroking her hair. For herself, Kelly felt that even with all the upheaval and distress and worries about Harry and to a lesser degree about all of them, she was where she'd longed to be. She was well and truly home.