The Prodigal
Eleven
FOR THE REST OF OCTOBER and most of November, life was defined by the coming exhibition. I had six paintings in progress. Kate was in the same situation. Even though we got special treatment at PCAD, we did have class projects and papers due. College took another interesting twist. It was more like a laboratory for our careers than a classroom. We met separately with Doc Henredon at least once a week. He cross-checked our progress on the paintings and our progress in class. My Art and Storytelling class with Dr. Bychkova was like a hybrid between his Art History class and Professor Strait’s Literary Criticism class, with a big dose of creative writing thrown in. I had a leg up because I had those theory classes last year. But I swear, Doc Henredon wanted to read each of my papers two days before they were due so he could make suggestions. That changed my work style.
I’d come back from Minneapolis with a Men’s Elite championship and Mixed Doubles Open silver medal. As a result, there was a recognition ceremony during one of SCU’s football games and a party afterward. Of course, I still had team practice two nights a week, but that was all I was playing until the art was out the door. We shipped the first batch of artwork to Georgia the fifteenth of October. That meant the Saturday and Sunday before, Jade was in the studio photographing everything we had ready to send. Clarice was adamant that nothing left our studio without being photographed first. The huge painting that my exhibition took its title from—Bacchanalia—was finished, but every so often I would spot something on it and touch the paint a little. Clarice caught me one day and watched as I tweaked the flesh-tone on one of my figures.
“Tony,” she said, “it takes two people to paint a masterpiece.”
“Huh?”
“One to put paint on the canvas and one to hang the artist. Don’t get caught in the trap of continually tweaking one painting. It’s finished. We’ve photographed it. Move on.”
Okay. Well, I got the message. And it was silly, but keeping it displayed in the studio as a reference for the smaller pieces meant it was always a temptation to do one more thing. I draped it.
“Kitten, what would you think if I sent my two paintings that are in storage down to Gerhardt?”
“Are you going to release them now?” I heard the hesitation in her voice.
“No. Nothing else that I’ve painted measures up to those two pieces. I’d ruin myself if I released them now. I was thinking of putting together a limited edition of the two pieces from Gerhardt and boxing them with the originals. I wouldn’t release any of them for several years—probably long after Gerhardt is dead, in fact.”
“You think so far ahead, Tony. I can only think as far as ‘What am I going to paint next?’ But I think you’ve got a good idea. You have people to provide for in the future. It’s different with me. Who would I need to provide for?” I took her in my arms.
“Aren’t you going to provide for me in my old age, love? I’m just a flash in the pan. You’ve got staying power. That’s what everyone thinks.”
“Oh, Tony. Does that mean I have to change your diapers when you get old?”
“Yep. But no Depends. I want something like ‘For Sure.’ No doubts.” We laughed, kissed, and generally horsed around, but she still hadn’t answered my question.
“We should call Gerhardt and lay it on the line for him. He has our first batch of paintings now and we should talk to him anyway,” Kate said. “Those paintings merit the finer work and they could only become more valuable after Gerhardt passes. But he might not like us mentioning that possibility. He’s only—what?—eighty-six?”
“Yeah. He could outlive us. But you’re right. Let’s call him. It’s already almost eight at night there.”
We called. Gerhardt immediately started talking about the work we’d sent him and the order he was planning to do the color separations. When I broached the subject of adding a couple of pieces, he said he’d be willing, but he wanted to see them before he made a final commitment. I said I’d send them with the next batch of paintings.
The next two weeks were hell. Neither of us studied for our midterms. I cut all classes and quit practicing racquetball. November third, Jade showed up at the studio for a marathon photo session that lasted two days. Monday morning, the shippers arrived and crated all our remaining artwork to take to Georgia.
In a way, it was like having finished the mural. I was a little depressed and not sure what to do with myself. I showed up for class on Tuesday and took the ribbing from my professors. “Nice that Tony could make it today.” That sort of thing. It was okay, though. They supported what I was doing. That’s one thing about an art school. You are there to start a career and when you start showing signs of success, they don’t say “Sorry, you have to finish a term paper.” There wasn’t a day that went by when someone didn’t ask us what we were still doing at PCAD. To me, it was an easy question to answer. I had more to learn. Kate might have been asking herself the same question, though.
I’d almost forgotten it was Election Day until Kate and Melody reminded me. Our ballots had been sent in weeks before. Washington doesn’t have polling places anymore. I assumed we’d be voting by email soon and people would see the results as they came in. “Your vote is number 262,177. Your candidate currently leads her opponent by a margin of 52 votes. Call your friends and remind them to vote!” Mark my words, it will happen this decade.
I was glad they reminded me. I’d have been completely unprepared for the chaos that was our living room when we got home. It was a mid-week party and all our friends were there for free food and to watch the election results come in on television. The big issues on the Washington ballot were the legalization of pot and gay marriage. Unrelated issues. I think. We’d skipped having a Halloween party because Kate and I were too stressed, so people were making up for it tonight. Lissa and Wendy dragged Kate and me into the bedroom as soon as we walked in the door. I was never going to live this down. Last year I’d been showing off my muscles in a slave costume that was supposed to be Spartacus. Lissa and Melody had come up with the theme for this year’s party and it was cross-dressing. They had me out of my jeans and into a dress so fast my head was swimming. They insisted that I shave before they applied makeup to me, but I drew the line at shaving my legs. They’d wisely chosen a dress that wouldn’t show my pits.
I’ve noticed that when hetero guys cross-dress, they all seem to dress like absolute sluts and can’t come close to pulling it off. I saw plenty of evidence that the girls were focusing on every dirty and disgusting thing you can imagine about guys, too. Roseanne Barr was personified in Rio who came dressed in a baseball uniform and kept grabbing her crotch and spitting. There were a couple of full beards, but they weren’t very well kept. Lots of five-o’clock-shadow and Sonia had gone so far as to paste sandpaper on her cheeks. You don’t want to imagine six-foot-three Thor in drag. My ladies were all dressed professionally and they did a makeup job on me that rivaled Kevin’s practiced perfection. Until I got a good look at Melody. She’d stuffed Lissa’s dildo down one pants leg and was bumping it up against every guy’s butt.
We didn’t start getting election results until ten, but we had a great time, mostly laughing at each other’s discomfort. There was a lot of hand-holding going on though whenever the projections regarding same-sex marriage were updated. When people finally left, we had a clear idea that the Democrats had prevailed, but it still wasn’t clear whether marriage equality or pot legalization would fly.
I woke up in the morning at the bottom of a pile of girls, bouncing and giggling. Wendy had run out to get the newspaper and the headlines declared that both issues had passed. There was a knock on the door just before it flew open and the Oregon trio stormed into our bedroom.
“Can we have Papa Oke send some of his special up from the commune?” Willow asked excitedly. We all laughed. I read out of the article.
“Apparently not,” I said. “According to this, pot use is under the same criteria as alcohol. You have to be twenty-one. And it doesn’t go into effect until December 6. However, we can all get married in any combination of twos that we want.”
“How about all the girls pair up and you can marry Willow,” Melody suggested. I think both Willow and I had the same expression on our faces.
“How about we just have coffee,” I said.
Not being home for Thanksgiving was going to seem weird. I remembered sitting in my room alone during my freshman year on Thanksgiving wishing I was home. Then last year, while we were celebrating, we got the news that Harold was dead. It was going to be difficult to not be there when Melody and her mom needed us this year. Her mom would arrive about the same time Kate and I took off on Sunday. On Saturday before we left, we decided to have an early T-Day dinner with our extended Seattle family.
The Trips helped get ready and Wendy got the day off from Carmine’s. I roasted the turkey on the grill again, though we went with a smaller bird this year. Whitney, Bree, and Allison arrived about ten and helped in the kitchen, set tables, and fell over each other trying to make hors d’oeuvres. It was total chaos until Wendy put her foot down and started telling each person what he or she was responsible for and where to work. Everyone was so surprised to have Wendy ordering them around that they snapped to it and did what she said. When Sandra, Walt, Rio, Sonia, Amy, and Thor arrived at one o’clock, Damon and Drew met them at the door—their special responsibility—took their coats, and led them to the dining room. We had the dining room table, stretched out as far as it would go with two folding tables and chairs continuing on into the living room. Sixteen of us sitting down together to eat turkey dinner is a houseful. We loved it.
The conversation got to why we were having dinner early and Kate and I talked about our plans. There was a lot of laughter, but when I caught Wendy’s eye, she silently reached up and tapped the tiger-eye of her collar with a pleading look on her face. I nodded.
“Where did Wendy disappear to?” Lissa asked.
With clean-up, drumming, finally getting the guests out of the house, and getting the boys to bed, it was after nine.
“Wendy needs some special time with me before we leave,” I said to my wives. “How long has she been missing?”
“I haven’t seen her since Amy, Sonia, and Thor left about two hours ago,” Melody said. Kate looked at me with a horrified expression. I simply turned and ran down the stairs.
Her door, of course, was unlocked and I simply walked into the room. Wendy knelt naked on the floor, her hands behind her back and her focus straight ahead. Tears ran down her cheeks and I wondered how long she had knelt there.
I didn’t give her any commands this time, though. I picked the girl up in my arms and carried her to the bed, kissing her eyes, her head, and her lips as I went.
“You were so good today,” I said. “You organized everyone. Without you, we never would have had a Thanksgiving meal. My Tiger deserves a special reward for all her hard work.”
“No, Master, please.”
I held her in my arms and continued to pet and kiss her.
“What is it, Tiger?”
“I didn’t work today as a servant. I worked as a member of the family. Please don’t treat it more special than what anyone else did.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought…”
“I know. You are still trying to understand everything. But please, I’m frightened and I just need to serve you. Please.” Tears had never stopped running down her cheeks and she was shaking in my arms. I wanted to comfort her and find out why she was frightened, but I knew that the best comfort was to give her something to do to “serve” me.
“I’ve been incredibly sore lately, Tiger. After all the painting and late nights in the studio and then trying to get caught up on school and on the court, I haven’t been able to coordinate a massage with Bree for weeks. Please give me a massage and help me relax.”
“Yes, Master.” I could hear genuine joy in her voice as she began to undress me. I lay on my stomach as Wendy worked on my muscles. It wasn’t a lie. I’d been used to massages every week from Bree until school started this fall. Wendy’s touch was different, even more intimate than Bree’s. She had no qualms about using her whole body to massage me. By the time she had me turn over on my back, I was not only more relaxed, but quite hard. Wendy continued her body-to-body technique, not exactly ignoring my cock, but not focusing on it either. When she’d finished her work an hour later, she reached for me directly. “Would Master like a happy ending?”
“Master would like a happy ending, middle, and beginning with you, Tiger. Please come and make love with me.”
“Oh yes!” I noticed that the “master” had been left off at last, but it was only seconds until Wendy was fully seated on my cock and it was me massaging her to orgasm.
When we lay in post-coital bliss, I managed to get to the subject.
“Tiger, why are you frightened?” She was quiet for a minute but gripped me harder.
“You and Kate are going away and I’ll be all alone like I was.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it held true terror.
“You won’t be alone. Melody and Lissa will be here with you. We would never abandon you.”
“But they… love each other.”
“Do you think they don’t love you? Do you still think you are a visitor here? What about being part of the family?”
“But I’m part of your family with Kate.”
“You know how we handle a situation like this?” I asked. “We go talk about it. Come on now.”
“I’m naked.”
“Mmmhmm. Me too.” I took her by the hand and went up to the master bedroom. We walked in to find Melody and Lissa kissing all over Kate who was squirming under them.
“There you are!” Melody said. “We hoped you’d join us.” Kate held out her arms and Wendy crawled over the top to embrace her.
“Family, my Tiger has a problem,” I started. Wendy got out of bed and stood beside me. Tiger was her nickname that we all used. When I was referring to the submissive Wendy, though, I always said my Tiger. Melody, Kate, and Lissa had accepted the relationship the way Wendy wanted it. “She thinks that Kate and I are the only ones who love her as part of our family and that when we are away in Georgia, she will be alone. I’m not sure how to answer, so I thought the family should.”
Lissa and Melody bounced out of bed and rushed Wendy so quickly the poor girl couldn’t respond. They had her wrapped between their naked bodies and held her tightly.
“Wendy, do you really think we don’t love you as part of our family? Oh, sweetheart, please don’t think that.”
“But, um… we don’t… do things. And you have Bree and Lissa has Whitney. And Allison. But I guess Allison has everyone.”
Kate got off the bed and came to hug me while Lissa and Melody continued to fawn over Wendy. She kissed my cheek and whispered, “Thank you. I knew the problem and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
“You don’t mind Lissa and Melody getting closer to Wendy?”
“God no! It’s not like I haven’t played around with Allison. Or Bree, for that matter.”
“You played around with Bree?”
“You were there, silly. And it’s hard not to fool around with Bree if she’s in the mood.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I confessed.
Melody and Lissa dragged Wendy into the bed and we joined them with Wendy in the middle.
“You don’t have to be sexual with us for us to love you,” Lissa said.
“And admire you,” Melody added. “I don’t think you know what a big influence you’ve been on all of us.”
“We’d like it if you were up here in the big bed with us more often,” Lissa continued. “And if you feel like joining in with our other activities—well, no one is going to kick you out of bed.”
“We can’t replace Kate,” Melody said, “and we wouldn’t try to. We know you have something special with her.”
“And we can’t be Tony for you,” Lissa added. “None of us would know how and none of us have the right. But, Tiger, we love you. We love you as a wife in our household.”
“But I haven’t joined and become a partner or anything.”
“Neither has Kate,” I said.
“No, but I’m a part of this household and I contribute just like you do and I’m in this bed or yours every single night,” Kate said. “I’ve never doubted how much everyone here loves me.”
“As far as we’re concerned, you belong here with us.”
“Really?”
“Do you remember New Year’s Eve last year when my parents visited?” Kate asked. I was trying to figure out where that was going. Wendy nodded. “Do you remember Mama Gypsy handing you a deck of cards and asking you to shuffle and draw a card?” Wendy nodded again. “What card was it?”
“Um… a queen. The Queen of Diamonds.”
“One night when we were making love, Tony called Melody his Queen of Spades. I finally figured out that he’d played cards with Mama Gypsy and wheedled the rest out of him. I found out that he’d drawn the Queen of Hearts for Lissa. He drew the Queen of Clubs for me.”
“But Tony didn’t draw my card. I drew it. They can’t be related.”
“The reading that Mama Gypsy did for me was over Labor Day weekend a year ago. Do you remember what happened just after that?”
“I… You… found me and invited me to stay with you until I moved to Tent City. Only you didn’t know where I was moving to.”
“Gypsy let me draw one more card before I shuffled the deck and put them away. I asked silently, ‘What does my future hold?’ Do you know what card I drew? The Queen of Diamonds. I’d drawn four queens in a row after I spent gobs of time shuffling the cards. I didn’t believe in a lot of mystical hoo-hoo—sorry, Kate—before I met Gypsy. I thought her reading of Melody, Lissa, and Kate in my life was spot on though, and I was trying not to give anything away. But when you came to us that next week, I started to give it some credence. As far as I’m concerned, there are four queens in this household. And I’m not even a king! I’m just the joker.”
“No!” they all yelled at me. I found myself on the bottom of a pile of girl—kind of my favorite place to be.
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