Dahlia and Darren
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T.R.E.SChapter 34: Darren free porn video
I pushed a button on a remote, and heavy, wrought iron gates lumbered open. Would Mother be waiting to talk with me, curious about where I'd spent the night? Probably. I took in the family residence as my Escalade bumped over the brick driveway. Three ivy-covered stories, twenty-eight rooms, including nine bedrooms, and ten bathrooms, a home to be proud of, a home that had graciously housed my family for five generations. I'd lived in that home my entire life, and until I met Josh, Nicole and Sandy, I'd expected to die there.
Mother was waiting.
"Sit," she said. "We need to talk. May I pour you some coffee? Have you had breakfast?"
"Coffee, yes. No to the breakfast offer." I wanted to talk first and eat later.
She set a cup of coffee in front of me and remained standing, her back to a blazing fire, one of eight fireplaces in the house.
Gloria Jefferson Caldwell was a striking, refined woman. She'd be fifty-four on her next birthday. I was her only child, and I loved her dearly.
"Will you be going to the office today?" she asked.
"Yes," I said and chuckled. "Were you afraid I'd abandoned the business?"
She smiled. "Not really."
"For what it's worth I spent some time in the office yesterday."
"I know."
I drank some coffee and waited for her questions. I rarely lied to her, mostly because she was almost as good at recognizing a lie as Josh.
"Does she come from a good family?" Mother asked.
"If you mean an old, moneyed family, the answer is no. Sit down Mother, and I'll tell you everything." Well, almost everything. "Then I'll ask you to dispense some of your infinite and appreciated wisdom."
She laughed and, after pouring herself a cup of coffee, took a seat across the table from me.
"I think I'm in love."
"Think?"
"You won't let me hedge at all, will you?"
"Not a bit."
"All right, I'm in love."
"Tell me about her."
"That will be difficult because I'm in love with two women, not one."
Mother smiled broadly. "Well, well, this sounds more interesting than I anticipated. Tell me about one, and then the other."
"All right. Sandy is a novelist. I think you read her latest book. Sandy... ah Sandra Johnson."
"Yes I read it. It was well written, a fun read, sexy, with strong, believable characters, and a good plot. She's a very good writer." She laughed cynically. "A best-selling author makes a lot of money. She won't be a gold digger like that Anderson slut."
I groaned. "Be nice, Mother."
"Tell me about the other one."
"Nicole is a Ph.D. candidate at Harvard - economics."
"What's her last name? I'll have her checked out."
"Johnson."
"What are they? Sisters?"
"No, wives. They're both married to Joshua Johnson. He's an artist."
"Jesus H. Christ! Are you crazy?"
I laughed. I couldn't stop the laugh from boiling out, and once it started, I couldn't stop it.
"Control yourself, Darren."
"Sorry," I said and laughed a little more. "That felt good. I've been dreading this conversation with you, and your reaction was priceless."
"If you've been dreading the conversation you must have known I wouldn't approve. I don't."
"You're being narrow-minded, which isn't like you. Hear me out before you become judgmental."
"All right, but first help me understand the situation. An artist named Joshua Johnson is married to two accomplished women, one a best-selling novelist, and the other a Ph.D. candidate at Harvard. Correct?"
"Yes."
"The marriage isn't legal."
"Correct. It's based on love, not a piece of paper."
"Is he legally married to one of them?"
"Yes, Nicole. Josh couldn't marry Sandy legally, even if he weren't married to Nicole. Would you like to venture a guess why?"
She sipped coffee, and I could feel the wheels grinding in her mind. "Nicole took her legal husband's name; thus, she's Nicole Johnson. Joshua Johnson and Sandy Johnson can't legally marry, but they have the same last name. They're related, probably brother and sister."
"Your guess is accurate."
"I didn't guess. I analyzed the information and clues you gave me. Do you love one woman more than the other?"
"No. I met Nicole first, and she was everything I always wanted in a woman. Then I met Sandy, and I fell for her just as deeply. For what it's worth, they're bisexual and love each other as much as they love Josh."
"Oh, ho! The picture is becoming clearer. You've bedded both of them, probably at the same time."
"Yes, separately and together."
"Tell me about the artist."
"He gave me two of his paintings. They're in my room." I stood up. "I'll be right back with them."
I retrieved the paintings, leaned one on the mantle over the fireplace and the other on the serving console against the wall.
Mother studied the paintings. "He's talented. Has he sold any of his work?"
"No. He says he doesn't care about money, says he's still learning. He didn't start painting until two years ago. Before that he made a fortune in real estate, flipping properties at first, and then redeveloping an office complex in Las Vegas, Nevada, and finally developing two high-end hotels, one off the coast of Belize, and the other was on a private Greek Island. He liquidated all his properties so he could spend more time with Sandy and Nicole."
"You sound impressed with Josh Johnson. How old is he?"
"He'll be twenty-three next month."
Mother snorted. "He's still wet behind the ears."
I grinned. "You'll eat those words after you meet him. For what it's worth Albright's is sponsoring his first one-man show next month. His paintings will average over $10,000 each."
"I thought you said he didn't care about money."
"He doesn't. Sandy and Nicole talked him into showing his work. Because he can't stand to part with one of his paintings, he paints two of each scene so he can sell one and keep the other. He did three paintings of Boston Harbor, so he could give me that one as a gift. In a moment of weakness, I told him I wanted the promenade painting, too, so he gave it to me."
"Is Josh Johnson bisexual like his wives?"
"No!"
She slumped into her chair. "Darren, you're an accomplished man, well-educated, responsible to me and our interests, our many employees and business partners, but regarding this situation, you're out of your depth."
"You're not telling me anything I don't know, Mother."
"You love them, huh?"
"Yes."
"Do they love you?"
"I don't know. They've said nothing, and I haven't told them how I feel. Just before Sandy left for New York a couple of days ago, she sat me down and asked me if I worked. I told her I'd work after she left. She suggested that I was acting a little frantic, as if I feared I'd lose them, and I had to agree with her assessment. I saw myself as in interloper, a hanger-on to their plural marriage, while the three of them were married. That's when she stated that their marriage didn't preclude another wife or husband. That statement stunned me, Mother. She laughed and added that her statement wasn't a proposal of marriage, but a proposal sometime in the future wasn't out of the question. That's the closest any of us has come to declaring our feelings."
She shook her head. "That this situation appeals to you is my fault."
I laughed. "Yup, as Josh would say. Did I mention that they're from the West - Arizona and Nevada?"
She groaned and shook her head again. "I want to meet them."
"All right, but Josh and Sandy are in New York. I don't know when they plan to return to Boston. There are a couple of other things you need to know. You can't lie to Josh. He says he's a human lie detector. I didn't believe it, but he proved he was exactly what he claimed to be."
"We'll see about that. What else? This situation just gets crazier and crazier."
"Sandy remembers her past lives back over the last one thousand years."
"We'll see about that, too."
"Mother, she speaks about twenty languages, languages she learned as a child. Her historical novels are accurate because she lived during the times she writes about. From 1202 to 1269 she says she lived as a male in what is now called New Mexico in the United States, the setting and time frame for the best-selling novel you read. To liven up the plot, she used time travel to transport a woman from the early 21sth century back to the 13th century, and forced her to cope with the privations of that time and place."
"Twenty languages?"
"Yes, although she readily admits the languages she speaks are outdated. She spoke Portuguese with me, and her Portuguese was definitely old-fashioned. Brazil will be the setting for her fourth novel. Her third novel is with her editor now. It takes place in Australia during the 12th century when she lived as an aborigine, a female. Listening to her speaking that language with all its clicking sounds cracked me up."
"Check with them. Tell them I want to meet them. Let's see how they react."
"All right."
"Darren, stop pacing. You're acting like a caged lion," Mother said. "Their flight was probably delayed."
When I'd told Josh that my mother wanted to meet the three of them, he simply said all right, checked with Sandy while I was still on the telephone with him, and told me they'd fly to Boston that afternoon.
"Nicole will meet us at the airport with a limo, and we'll drive directly to your home. Where do you live?"
I gave him my address and said, "Josh, I can't lie to my mother. I told her everything."
He chuckled. "That must've blown her mind. Will we need to be wearing body armor when we meet her?"
I'd laughed heartily and relaxed. "No, Mother's weapons of choice are verbal, not physical."
The intercom from the front gates sputtered, and Nicole, imitating the girl from the movie, Poltergeist, said, "We're back!"
Laughing, I pushed the button that opened the gates. Five minutes later, Josh, Sandy and Nicole entered my family home like a force of nature.
The introductions were barely out of the way when Nicole said, "Coffee, I need coffee. Where's the kitchen? I can fend for myself."
"Check out the frig while you're there," Josh said. "See if they have any root beer."
"Cut the antics, you two," Sandy said. "Mrs. Caldwell will think we're uncivilized."
Josh looked Mother in the eye and said, "Compared to you, Gloria, we are uncivilized." He took my mother's hand in his, bowed and kissed her hand. "Did I do that right?"
Mother cracked up. "Okay, okay, I get the point. The Caldwell clan, this house, the servants, the traditions we live by, can appear a little stuffy. Sit down, relax. Nicole, we pay servants to wait on us. If I allowed you in the kitchen, they'd get upset." She turned to our butler and said, "George, coffee for Nicole, a root beer for Josh. Sandy what would you like?"
"Orange juice, if you have it."
"I'll have hot tea, George. Darren?"
"I'm fine."
"Madam," George said ponderously, "we have no root beer in the frig or anywhere." I could see George was tickled. His eyes twinkled with mirth, but his back remained straight. He prided himself on his perfect posture.
"How about ice tea?" Josh asked.
George nodded staidly, turned and left the room.
Mother studied each of our guests in turn. "Josh, my son told me that you claim to be a human lie detector. Are you?"
He chuckled. "Yes. I'm an empath which allows me to sense when someone is lying." His expression turned serious. "I can also sense when someone is hurting. How serious is your illness?"
Mother's eyes widened. "It's not life-threatening. Rheumatoid arthritis, mostly in my hands."
"I might be able to help you. May I try?" Josh said.
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"Josh is a psychic healer, Mrs. Caldwell," Sandy said.
She shrugged. "What will you do?" she asked Josh.
He chuckled. "My methods are difficult to explain. Let's do this. First, I'll remove the pain. If you want to proceed from there, I'll try to eliminate the problem. Okay?"
"What must I do?"
"Nothing."
"How long will it take?"
"Seconds for the pain, a little longer to fix the problem. Have you consulted a doctor about the disease?"
"Yes."
"Then you know that joint capsules are lined with a type of tissue called synovium, which produces synovial fluid, a clear substance that lubricates and nourishes the cartilage and bones inside the joint capsule. When you have rheumatoid arthritis, for some unknown reason your white blood cells travel to the synovium and cause inflammation. When inflamed, the normally thin synovium becomes thick and makes the joint swollen and puffy to the touch. Correct?"
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