9781618857569GettingitAllStorm

by Troy Storm

  “How can it, Dorothy?” Marta continued, glancing at the others for backup, sincere as she was able. That in itself was impressive. Marta hardly ever seemed truly concerned about anyone other than Marta. Dorothy resigned herself, it might as well all come out in the open and be discussed. Right here and now. Which was way more than they all had done years ago.

  “You and Lucy are both fighting for the same man.” Marta leaned forward to make her point, the diamonds on her hands sparkling as she gestured. “Goodness knows how many more women are involved. I’ve heard tell…well, I don’t know how he does it.” She looked around as if expecting an explanation of Matt’s prowess.

  Brunnie spoke up, apparently still unconvinced as to her position on the matter. “And you think Dot will lose because Lucy is younger and more…malleable? More sexy?”

  “Well,” Marta huffed, “Dorothy has been on her own for quite some time. I imagine that’s a hard habit to break. Having time for yourself. Not having to jump every time his master’s voice is heard throughout the house.” The women in the shop paid close attention. Marta’s voice had become exceptionally crisp. “I don’t say she’ll necessarily lose, so much as she more than likely will decide it’s not worth the effort.”

  “Well, I appreciate all your concerns, but what if nobody loses?”

  There was a profound silence as all heads turned to Dorothy.

  “What if we…three—there are no others, now that Christy has pulled out of the race, no matter what the rumors—what if we decide we like things the way they are, except…closer?”

  “How much more close can you be? Other than…?” Marta’s well-maintained jaw dropped.

  “Are you talking about the three of you…living…moving in together?” Amelia stared, her customer forgotten, which didn’t seem to bother the customer who was as fascinated by Dorothy’s statement as any of the ladies.

  It was nice having the floor for a change. Dorothy waited pleasantly, slightly surprised herself at her suggestion, turning over the idea in her head.

  “Nobody has made a formal request, yet. Don’t get all out of joint. But all of you are right. We three enjoy each other’s company. We enjoy our company together. I wouldn’t want to hurt Lucy or Matt and I don’t believe they would want to hurt me. Which leaves us to either continue the way we’re going, bust the whole thing up, or make it more…practical. What do you think? Should I suggest a more…equitable arrangement? Cut out this competition crap. We’ve all won. Make it a…half double date?” She mused. “Or would that be a date and a half? I don’t suppose you would all accept…roommates?”

  “Oh. My. Goodness.” Brunnie’s fingers pressed tightly against her lips before she reached up to remove her reading glasses and put them away. “I must say, I have never before had the chance to contemplate such an arrangement…among friends. It’s rather titillating.”

  “I think it’s appalling.” Marta spoke up. “It’s immoral. Or should be. I’m afraid, Dorothy, you’d lose whatever standing in the community…I mean…”

  “Amelia? Any thoughts? Anyone else?” Neither Amelia, her customer, or other ladies waiting seemed to know quite what to say, but at least didn’t seem to be members of the community to whom Marta had been referring in which Dorothy might lose her social standing. Whatever that might be. In fact, from the looks on their faces, they seemed to think it was a rather neat idea.

  Amelia pulled herself together. “I think you should do what you want to do, Dot. It’s your life. Granted there are others involved, but you deserve to think about yourself first, this time.”

  “Thanks, Amelia, but those others involved are much more important to me than myself. But I thank you for giving me your blessing. Brunnie?”

  Brunhilda looked around, her old eyes shining. “I think the rest of us say go for it too, Dot. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll be here for you. Right, Marta?”

  “Well, of course, I’ll be here for you too, Dorothy,” Marta agreed, hesitantly. “I just… I just want you to know what you may face. But certainly not from me.”

  “Thanks, Marta. I appreciate that. But I think I’ve a pretty good idea what I’ve been facing, what any of us face, when we chose to stay around. Some well-meaning souls don’t take change too well. And nobody likes to be unsettled.” She took a deep breath and spread her hands. “So…we’ll see what the other two sides of this triangle think of that suggestion.” She nodded, smiling, settled. “Thank you again for giving me the guts to go for it.”

  They all began to talk at once.

  * * * *

  “Ms Drake, may I see you for a moment?”

  That was unusual, Lucy thought. She and Carmen were almost always on a first name basis when there was no one was in the office but the two of them. He had made a big deal about wanting her to feel more a part of the firm.

  But for some reason Carmen Anders had been more nervous than usual these last few days. Lucy wasn’t quite sure why. She hoped there wasn’t trouble on his home front. Mrs. Anders could sometimes be a formidable wife, she had gathered.

  And though Lucy was usually a very diligent employee, she had to admit other things had been occupying her free time. She snickered to herself. And occupying her panties.

  A pleasurable shiver ran through her slim body. Never in a million years would she have thought such a phrase would be passing her lips. And her dearly beloved pussy lips too, she giggled. And that wasn’t just a phrase that was entangling itself in the intricate metaphor she was weaving. There were lips and there were lips. Male. Female. Frontside. Backside.

  “Yes, sir. Be right in.”

  She gathered up a steno pad and pencil and entered her boss’ small office.

  “Is there something I’ve forgotten to do, Carmen? Sorry, if I have. I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.”

  “Yes, I know, Lucy.” Carmen stood next to his desk nervously shifting from one foot to the other as if unsure whether to go behind and sit thereby making the meeting more formal, or continue standing making the meeting somewhat ambiguous, or perhaps lean against the front edge of the desk in a very informal, for him, attitude.

  Lucy refused to let apprehension as to his motives, or indecision concerning his butt, worry her. She was, as she had warned him, preoccupied.

  “Please sit down.” He indicated the client's chair facing his desk. “I think we should have a little talk.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I assume you know the rumors.” He remained at the side of the desk, undecided, and took out a handkerchief to blot his upper lip. “That have been going around town these last few days?”

  “No,” she answered honestly, “not really. I’ve been busy here in the office and also outside and haven’t really paid much attention to the town Internet feeds lately.”

  He looked horrified that she didn’t know. He would then have to explain. Good. Let him.

  “Uh, well, it appears that you…that is, your dating habits…and those of your friend, Ms Ardmore…” His face began to flush. He unbuttoned his suit jacket.

  Lucy wasn’t exactly ignorant about what might be going around town. Matt or Dot may have mentioned something, but they didn’t make a big thing of it, and tangled together in bed they had all been focused on much more interesting things than what gossipy neighbors might be thinking or saying. Matt had a certain standing in the community, but she and Dorothy were pretty much free to live whatever lives they might want to, so long as they didn't break any laws or frighten the animals.

  She repressed a smirk. Was it Noël Coward said that? He would have.

  Lucy didn’t put a lot of store in rumors, anyway. Never had. Well, not in a long time. Once what people thought about her had been uppermost in her mind, but as she grew older and discovered the huge disconnect between who she perceived herself to be and what people seemed to want her to be, she began to realize most gossip and innuendo was based on the perception of the inuendo-er and seldom on real facts.

  Lucy now consi
dered herself pretty much facts based. Socially, she realized she was not all that adroit, people in general still confused her. But fact wise, few could challenge her. She was good at research. She was good at cross-connections. She was good at her job. Carmen was impressed.

  She had once cared about society, what people thought. After all, we're all members and want to be liked, she reasoned. But other than being civil and paying attention, there wasn't a lot one could do. Since rumors had never referred to her before—up until now, sadly she supposed people might say, there had never been any reason—it was difficult to get in the swing of putting much store in them at this late date.

  What she had been doing, when not with Matt or Dorothy, or working, was getting some facts and propositions that she had been mulling over straight in her head, and down on paper. She really needed to discuss some things with her beloved lovers, but once they had their clothes off, and that was usually pretty quick, the idea of 'discussing' just seemed to turn its little bare ass and take off into the forests like all those white-tailed deer caught wrecking everybody's gardens. Outside the fantastic sex, what she might do to not only continue but make her current love life even better had been occupying her waking hours. She wanted to be sure she had her facts in order before she presented her idea.

  Maybe that was why Carmen looked so rattled. She hadn’t been paying that much attention to work these last few days and she normally was a very dedicated worker. Poor, dear, man, she thought. He was trying to reprimand her and didn’t know how to do it.

  “Carmen. Mr. Anders…” She raised her hand to try and interrupt his stumbling explanation of why he had called her in that wasn't making the slightest sense. Something about Brunnie’s Oldsmobile, she thought, and Marta’s husband, Milton. And she just didn't have the time or the interest to make his convoluted connections.

  Good Lord. She hoped Brunhilde and Milton weren’t having an affair. And then began to giggle at the thought.

  Her giggle stopped Carmen dead. He seemed shocked and rushed to her to grab her hands and hold them tightly in his. Lucy stared transfixed at his impetuosity.

  “I knew this was all too much for you. I just knew what they were saying couldn’t be true, or even if just a small bit of it were true it would be too much…for you to handle.” He pushed his face urgently toward her, eyes intense and slightly wild, brow furrowed and damp with perspiration. You’re much too sensitive a girl…a young woman…to endure such talk. Not that I believe a word, you understand, but I’m here for you, Lucy.” He nodded urgently, as if to convince himself of his intensity. “I’m ready to step in, if you need me, and give Bartholomew a good talking to. And maybe...and maybe Ms Ardmore, too. I’m ready to do whatever you need me to do…whatever you want me to do.”

  “I'd like you to let go of my hands, Carmen. You're hurting.”

  He jumped back, horrified. “No. No. I didn't mean...” He grabbed her again. Even more forcefully.

  “Yes! Yes, I did! Lucy will you marry me? Oh, God, no, that's not what...yes! Yes it is. Be strong, Carmen. For once in your life say what you mean! Lucy you're so smart, and so beautiful, and now, with the rumors, so...so...sexy. Say it, Carmen, sexy! Oh, God!” He buried his face in his hands, dragging her hands with him.

  She winced. From her hands being crushed. From the desperation of an older, dear friend.

  “Carmen, let's sit down and talk.” Gently she guided him behind the desk and into the arm chair that he was so fond of, so proud of. He had built the business himself. All on his own. Stayed in town. Made something of himself. Gave something back.

  She pried her hands out of his, then stretched and shook her spread fingers, breathing a sigh of relief. Kissing the top of his bent head, she murmured, reassuring hands on his shaking shoulders. “Everything's going to be fine. We're not going to get married. You love your wife. Everything's going to get better. I'll go get a chair and we'll talk.”

  Quickly she brought the client's straight back chair to face him. She gently lifted his chin. “Look at me. Now...what's the problem?”

  It was the missus. She was losing her mind, or getting Alzheimer’s or was ready to divorce him, or something. No, they hadn't talked. Not really. Every time he tried to say something she would get upset and blame him and then start to cry...and...and...there was Lucy in his office every day. Efficient, pleasant, attractive. Being nice to the clients. Always saying the right thing. Just like Geraldine had been. When they had first started out.

  He wasn't an old man. He didn't want his life to start turning into what everybody else's life that he knew seemed to be turning into. Was it having kids? Geraldine had been, was a great mother. But they were all grown now. On their own. Had their own families. Hardly had time for their parents anymore. Was that what it was all about? Getting old. Not being needed anymore. Losing our minds. Getting sick.

  “Who's her doctor?”

  “What? Lucy, what's that...?”

  “Never mind. I can look it up.” She began going through the Rolodex on his desk.

  “Lucy, you can't...”

  “Of course, I can. You go wash your face. You'll feel better.”

  One thing about small town doctors, they were usually available right away or could be tracked down fairly quickly.

  Yes, the doctor said. Mrs. Anders was going through a rather difficult menopause right now, and, no she probably hadn't discussed it with her husband. But she had said the medication was helping enormously and, yes, if she had stopped taking it, it was possible for her emotions to become somewhat erratic. But she had told him...

  He would call her right away. And get her back into the office on some pretext and run a few tests. He was sorry Carmen hadn't called him earlier about his wife's behavior. They had all known each other for so long... Yes, he was perfectly aware of how clueless some husbands could be.

  Lucy passed the phone over to her boss who was reassured his wife was acting more or less normally under the circumstances. Why, he had some patients that...but, of course he couldn't mention any names what with the doctor/patient privacy thing, but...he made Carmen promise to stay in close touch until Geraldine could get through this period. They would all work together. If need be, he had some good recommendations for therapists, but he doubted...

  Reassuring Carmen he would get in touch with Geraldine as soon as possible, he hung up.

  Carmen broke down. Racking sobs. Lucy had saved his life. Saved his marriage. Saved his beloved Geraldine. He would see to it that if those uncaring kids of theirs ever had any other grandchildren one of them would be named Lucy.

  No, he didn't think it was a good idea for Lucy to see Geraldine right now, at least not until the doctor could assure him she was on the right medication again. Geraldine seemed to have some sort of...well, she seemed to think Lucy might be more involved in more than just the business aspect of their relationship.

  In fact—he sighed, resigned—he supposed it would be best if they went back to referring to each other more formally. Just in case. He had caught himself referring to Lucy by her first name a couple of times and, now that he thought of it, Geraldine hadn't taken that very well.

  He was sorry about the hands, the tears, the marriage proposal. They finally laughed. She kissed him on the cheek. It would be their last intimate moment, she promised. From then on, just boss and office manager.

  He went back in the office and closed the door to call Geraldine.

  Before he could make the call, Lucy buzzed him and asked if she might take a little walk to get a bit of air. She'd be back in fifteen minutes. Of course.

  She went to the bar down the street and had a vodka and tonic. Way too quickly.

  Her cell phone rang.

  “Matt wants the three of us to get together tonight. I know it's your night but... He tried to call your cell...”

  “Oh, Dot, I am so grateful. I've had a really...exhausting...day. I need you both so bad.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you and me, both. I think s
ome of the guys have been on Matt's ass too.”

  “We must be strong and...talk,” Lucy said. “We need to get some things said, and you know how we are.”

  “Yeah. You're right. Stay dressed. Have our talk and then...”

  “And then...right.” Lucy was feeling a hell of a lot better already, just thinking about the 'and then...' “But stay dressed first. Maybe even sort of spread out in different chairs...until we get our talk over. I've got some figures I want to show you guys. They're pretty impressive.”

  Dorothy laughed. “Your figures are always impressive, Lucy. You and I have to have a little talk about figures. I need to lose a few pounds.”

  “Don't be silly. You look great. Matt loves you the way you are. I love you the way you are.” She giggled. “If you start getting too 'loveable' don't worry, we'll work you back down to size.”

  “Can I count on that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Stay dressed!”

  Lucy laughed. She was going to have to work on getting rid of that stupid giggle of hers. Time to grow up.

  But right at this moment she was feeling very giggly.

  “Right on! Stay dressed!”

  Chapter Ten

  Matt met them at the door in his fancy skivies, grinning.

  They looked at each other, mouths agape, then burst out laughing and began to get down to their fancy skivies.

  Shaking his head in delight as he watched the ladies divest themselves of their work togs, Matt reiterated to himself he’d never understand women. Not at all the reaction he’d expected, if he truly expected anything in particular. These ladies seemed to always keep him on his toes. Which he wanted to expect every day and night from now on. But that would come later. His presenting his plan. His suggestion. His…dream.

  Now that neither of them had given him any sort of recognition they might have been the secret admirer who had sent him the underwear, he’d move on to plan B. A simple little rump-bumping strip tease to get them in the mood.

  They were way ahead of him.