Billionaire: Menage: Swinger: Let's Swing (MMF Bisexual Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Short Stories)

by Piquette Fontaine

  It had all happened so suddenly. One day they were all a happy family and then in the swiftest of flashes her parents were taken from her by an intoxicated driver. The doctor said they hadn’t suffered, that it had all happened too suddenly for them to realize what had happened, but Marion had seen the mangled bodies and the expressions of sheer terror on their faces and she felt nauseous every time she tried to imagine what their last thoughts must have been. Did they feel shock that their lives were ending so abruptly? Did they feel guilty that they were leaving their little girl alone…?

  It was strange. Just a few days before the accident Marion had been arguing fiercely with her father, demanding that she be treated not as girl but as a young woman for she was done with her schooling and wanted to choose a career, although he wanted her to wait and find a suitor so that she could carry on the family’s legacy. Yet for all her bluster she now felt utterly alone and despondent and she would have given anything to crawl into her father’s arms and be rocked to a sweet sleep just as in her childhood.

  There was so much left unsaid, so much that she could never say and it gnawed at her. It took all her effort to remain composed and not completely break down in front of the strangers in the carriage but she felt as though she was on the brink of collapsing. The train trundled on and as the scenery passed by so too did the memories of the aftermath of the accident. She barely had a chance to process everything before she had been told that she had to go and live with an Uncle she had never met, or if she had she couldn’t remember. Before she knew it she was traveling from London to a small town in Hampshire to begin a whole new life. It was a period of extreme upheaval and as she clutched her bag on the train she sat there, paralyzed, almost willing herself to reverse time and somehow prevent the accident. But she could not.

  By the time the train reached her destination the dim light of dusk had given way to darkness and the stars were out in full force, although much of them were blanketed in the grim smoke that poured from the train. As the locomotive ground to a halt the pistons wheezed and the brakes screeched. When it came to rest there was a final sharp stop, which jolted Marion forward and out of her despairing thoughts. She murmured as she rose and the rotund gentleman beside her huffed as he had to adjust his position to accommodate her movements. Her case was heavy and it was a struggle to get it down without it falling on her but she managed. The rotund gentleman, who had been entirely unhelpful, seemed chuffed after she vacated her seat as he was able to spread himself out. She offered a weak smile to the older couple as she slid past them and then she was out of the carriage and onto the concrete platform. She hopped down and landed with a thud. One or two other people got off with her but they quickly disappeared into the darkness. Marion looked around for a porter but there were none in sight. Behind her, the train began to get ready to depart. She heard the hiss of water and then smelled the bitter scent of coal and steam as the train slowly pulled away, gathering speed until it rattled along the tracks. She was left alone with just the disappearing plume of steam for company.

  Marion sighed as she lifted her head and looked at the twinkling stars dotted against the inky blackness of the night. For a moment she closed her eyes and wished that it would swallow her up, but then she opened them, wrapped her fingers around the handle of the case, and set off.

  The station was only a small one. There was a bench and a shelter and a small hut that appeared to be the office, but there was no sign that anyone was there. As she passed, she peered into to see if she could make anything out but it was dark, unsurprising for that time of night. A slight chill crept up her spine as she realized she was completely alone in this strange place and she began to glance around furtively. Marion walked away from the platform and the concrete gave way to a cobbled path with spikes of grass protruding at the edges. In the darkness she couldn’t see anything or anyone and her brow creased with worry. She had been told that a car would be here to meet her, and desperate thoughts began to tumble out uncontrollably. What if the car had the time or date wrong? What if it wasn’t coming at all? What if this Uncle was a horrid man?

  Marion had no way to tell the time and there wasn’t a clock in sight. Suddenly she had an idea and skipped back to the platform. Her lips spread into a grin as she saw the face of a clock, but as she looked more closely the smile faded for the clock was broken, frozen in a moment of time. She walked back, kicking a pebble as she did so. When she reached her case she carefully perched herself on it, making sure that it would not fall. She flattened her dress out over her legs and exhaled deeply as there was nothing else to do but wait.

  Eventually she heard the growling of a car engine as it approached the station. Thick beams of light pierced the darkness as it came around the curved road. Once in view, Marion saw that it was a sleek black automobile and she tentatively rose, still unsure whether it would be for her or not. The car stopped and a door opened. A tall, slender man emerged and strode forward purposefully. As he walked around the front of the car, he cut through the shafts of light and it took a while before Marion could make out his features. He grew closer though and she was able to see that he was old and gaunt with hollow cheeks and deep-set eyes. Marion felt her throat going dry and she placed a hand on her case to support her.

  “Miss Simmons?” the man said in a smooth erudite voice. The way he looked at her he seemed to stare straight through her and she almost forget her name. When she opened her mouth only unintelligible sounds came out so she resorted to nodding. The man cocked his head to the side and arched an eyebrow. He moved forward and shot out an arm. Marion gasped, thinking that he was going to grab her, but her cheeks flushed crimson as she realized that he was only picking up her case. He held it without much effort and this gave the impression that he was stronger than he appeared to be. He turned and waited for Marion to walk forward. Her steps were still uneven and her eyes flicked towards the man. She waited by the car as he placed her case securely in the trunk. Her heart was beating fast and she gulped continuously until she worked up the courage to talk.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, her voice more high-pitched than she intended. The man peeked his head up over the car and walked around silently to her door. Again he thrust his arm before her, this time to clasp the handle and pull the door open. He gestured for her to get in.

  “You can call me Winston ma’am,” he said dryly and waited for Marion to enter the car. Once she did so he slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver’s seat. Marion was sitting in the rear seat and almost trembled with fear. Something about Winston gave her an uneasy feeling. Part of her wanted to initiate a conversation but everything emptied from her mind so there was a wall of stony silence between them. Winston set the car in motion and all Marion could do was hope that her Uncle was a talkative host, else her new life could be very long indeed.

  Given that it was night, Marion couldn’t make out the details of her Uncle’s stately manor but in the shadows of the night, it looked an imposing structure. A wide gravel driveway led to the large building. Moonlight glinted off the towering windows, sending eerie shadows dancing over the face of the stately home. As Marion climbed out of the car she gazed up in wonder. It was so different from London, where she had been used to houses clumped together. She took a moment to stand in awe and she noticed how the night was so still. In London, there had been a cacophony of noises. Through the day there was the trotting of horses and even in the small hours of the morning you could hear drunks singing their way home. But out here was different. There was a silent solemnity that seemed to wrap around Marion like an invisible cloak. The house had a strange, hypnotic effect on her. As she looked up she noticed the way it was constructed. Unlike London homes with their boring brick structure this seemed like it had been sculpted. The windows were framed with ornamental wood that had been carefully crafted. Thick plants ran up and covered the lower right-hand side. These crept up to the massive black door that was the gateway to so much mystery and intrigue.
She wasn’t sure whether it was the cold or if it was as a result of being in the presence of the house, but her arms had broken out in goose bumps.

  Winston lugged the case from the car and broke Marion’s reverie.

  “This way ma’am,” he said calmly in an even tone. She watched him pass her and raised her eyebrows in astonishment at how the man could so casually carry the case without showing any sign of exertion. That case held all the possessions she could carry with her, and it was disheartening to see that they were such a light load. Without any more hesitation, Marion followed Winston to the door.

  He set the case down and took hold of a large metal knocker shaped to resemble the head of a lion. He brought it down with force three times, sending a loud thumping sound ringing through the area. Marion jumped in a shock as it was a sharp leap in volume. The knocker rested against the door and Winston waited patiently. Marion peered forward, surprised that the door had taken no damage. Just as she did, she jumped again as the door began to creak open. It took an age to finally open and the darkness gradually gave way to dim candlelight. Marion craned her neck around to peer into the doorway for her curiosity was powerful. The candles flickered and shadows danced along the wall. So far she could not see anyone else. Winston waited patiently for the door to open and when there was enough space he picked up the case.

  “Presenting Miss Marion, sir,” he said. Winston held an open palm out and looked at Marion expectantly. She stepped forward and walked into the house with Winston following closely behind. Marion moved forward and her mouth fell open in awe at the vastness ahead of her. There were so many ornaments peppered along the walls and the light reflected off the gold that was framing everything. She caught the faint whiff of a musky aftershave and turned to face the man who owned the house.

  He stepped away from the door.

  “I’ll get that sir,” Winston said.

  The butler set Marion’s case against the wall and took hold off the door, pushing it closed. Marion thought it was no wonder he was so strong if he had to open and close that door every day. The cool evening breeze was kept outside and the goose prickles faded from her skin as the warmth from the candles built and spread over her flesh. She was standing with her back to the wall and she could almost feel the flames licking at her.

  “Ah, splendid! Marion, welcome to my home. I wish we could have met under better circumstances, well, we did meet a long time ago but you were just a baby so I doubt you remember that,” her uncle said. Marion didn’t quite know what to say in reply and the shock of actually meeting him made her momentarily forget her manners. Instead she examined him. He was shorter than she had imagined with a scalp that was peeking through his thinning hair. He had a bushy mustache that gave him a jolly appearance and he was supporting himself with a black cane. As her eyes moved down she noticed that his left leg was askew and limp and she instantly felt awkward and embarrassed, as if she had caught him in some salacious situation. She flashed her eyes away and tried to remember the proper protocol, ending up bending her knees in a slight curtsey.

  “Indeed, but I thank you for taking me in. I’m not sure what I would have done otherwise.”

  “Families have to stick together, no matter what. Such a tragedy what happened…it really is.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, unsure of what else to say. It was difficult whenever anyone brought up the accident. Of course it was a tragedy but saying it didn’t make anything better and Marion wished that people would just not bother saying anything at all instead of saying meaningless platitudes.

  “We’ll have none of that girl, I’m your Uncle Charlie!” he said, beaming. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her. It was odd at first because it was the first affectionate human touch since a police officer had wrapped a blanket around her. He was warm and soft, but it was foreign and Marion couldn’t decide whether she liked it or not.

  “Winston, take her case to her room, give her the one next to that golden bull and then make her some hot chocolate. Marion, come to the study and we can get to know each other a little bit.”

  Winston moved away without saying anything. Charlie walked away stiffly, his limp leg dragging along the floor. Marion couldn’t help but stare as she followed along.

  “Winston’s a good chap, I don’t know what I’d do without him. I can’t exactly get around much, you know,” he said, and chuckled. It was a hollow laugh though and Marion couldn’t imagine how much pain went into it.

  “I must admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I arrived. Winston seems nice. He’s quite quiet though.”

  “Yes, well, we all have our demons to bear.”

  They went into a large room. A few lanterns were dotted around desks, tables and shelves. On one side was a wall of books while papers and other documents were strewn over the surfaces of the tables. The walls were once again adorned with artwork.

  “Impressed?” Charlie asked when he saw that Marion was transfixed by the books.

  “I’ve never seen so many outside of a library.”

  “Oh, that’s nothing. I have a library of my own in the west wing. Feel free to borrow anything you like. I have books that cover a range of material, and it’ll be nice for someone to get use out of them as I don’t get as much time to read as I would like and William, well…”

  “William?”

  “My son, well, adopted. He’s not very literary minded though, more’s the pity. He’s a good boy though, most of the time. I’m sure you’ll meet him tomorrow. He’s had an early night tonight.”

  The prospect of another person her own age hadn’t occurred to her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Part of her just wanted to be alone but if there was someone else, well, she supposed it depended upon whether they struck up a good rapport or not but she had gotten used to leaving everything behind, she didn’t count on the possibility of a new friend.

  “I can understand that. I’m exhausted myself,” she said.

  “I won’t keep you long my dear, no, I just wanted to have a little chat. I know it must be strange for you to come here after everything that’s happened.”

  “It has been a strange time. Everything’s changed so quickly. It’s hard to process it all. I’m still not sure that everything has sunk in.”

  At this point the door creaked and Marion’s neck shot around. Winston came in, holding two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. He set down the tray first and set one mug on the table beside Charlie.

  “Are you comfortable sir?”

  “Yes, Winston, no need to fuss over me I’m not decrepit yet,” he said, and flashed a smile to Marion, who chuckled. Winston gave the other mug to Marion who gasped in pain as the heat scalded her hands. She blew on the liquid and watched as it rippled. The sweet, heavy smell filled her nostrils and she took a tentative sip before resting the mug on the arm of the chair and waited for it to cool down.

  “That’s perfectly natural though,” Charlie continued, “perfectly human so don’t you worry about that. I just want you to know that although we don’t know each other we are family and I am here for you. You can stay here for as long as you like and if you need someone to talk to…well, I’ll do my best.”

  “Thank you, I really do appreciate it.” Marion took a sip from her mug again and her eyes flicked down to Charlie’s limp leg. As her eyes rose he caught her glance and she felt ashamed.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “everyone stares. I’ve gotten used to it over the years.”

  “How did it…” she began, unable to finish the question.

  “It’s an old war wound, just something I’ve had to get used to,” he said. A strange tension descended over them and Marion sipped her drink, unsure if she had made a big error in asking him about the leg. Neither of them said anything for a long while and she found her gaze lingering on the books, trying to make out the titles but the light was too dim and they were too far away. She wished she could take back her words, and she wondered if this is how other people must f
eel when they mentioned her parents around her.

  “If there’s nothing else sir?” Winston said. Marion had forgotten he was in the room.

  “No, you can go and amuse yourself,” Charlie replied. Winston spun on his heels and left the room. Charlie took another long gulp from his mug and wiped a few drops that had lingered on his mustache. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your parents…too long. I missed your mother dearly. She was a good sister.”

  “Why did you lose contact?”

  “Sometimes in life you drift apart from people even though you care about them. Your parents were busy with their life in London, I had mine here. It’s not so easy to get around for me anymore, especially not in a big city with all those crowds jostling me around. No, I much prefer to stay here. It’s not too exciting but I think I’ve had my share of excitement in the war. I have beautiful scenery outside and my work and my books. It might not be the ideal environment for young people like yourself and William, however.”

  “It may be just what I need. I didn’t like being in London. There were too many people. I felt so…overwhelmed by it all. Besides, it’s nice to see where mother grew up. I wonder why she never brought me here before.”

  Charlie looked out of the window pensively.

  “Your mother didn’t have the best relationship with this house. There were certain things, well, once she left this place she was never going to come back.”