by Bete Noire
She spent the rest of the day relaxing and lounging. When she thought to call Sloan, she put the telephone down. When she thought to get dressed and go to the men with her questions, she didn’t, wouldn’t until she knew more about her earrings. Diana knew exactly which jeweler she would use for the appraisal, the one she always passed and admired the collections in the window. She’d never stepped inside, knowing their pieces were way above her budget. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t look. They would be the place to start. To keep busy, she went to their website and left a message she would be in the following day around noon for an appraisal. She left her e-mail and phone number for them to contact her.
The rest of the day she searched her computer to find stones that looked like hers. Until yesterday, she’d always assumed they were costume jewelry. Now she wasn’t sure, but it was difficult to match them to photos on the computer. There were a few that seemed similar, but she couldn’t even pronounce them. And they were all precious stones, rare and old. Closing the computer, she knew she had to get out of the house. She dragged on comfortable chinos and a white T-shirt. She made a point of putting her earrings in a safer place, not just lying in a box on her bureau top. Grabbing a black sweater, she took her money, identification, cell phone, and keys and left quickly. Outside it was a beautiful afternoon, sunny but with a light breeze. Diana made a point of walking in the other direction from Sloan and Dane’s home.
She wandered along the streets, window shopping and watching other people. Actually, she walked in a foglike state, all the information she’d been given last night exploding in her brain. Over and over, she tried to make sense of it all. As she was nearing home, she stopped in a small market and grabbed a container of soup to take home for her supper.
At that corner, she could have turned one direction and gone home. If she turned in the other direction, she would be very close to Sloan and Dane. With definite purpose, she walked to her home. After a quick shower, she was back online, searching for more information about both the men, delving deeper into their backgrounds. Unfortunately for Diana, everything they had told her seemed accurate. That didn’t mean they couldn’t have planted information, but why bother? She was not a woman of means, not one to be played for money or a pair of earrings.
With a resigned breath, she went back to a clean search and typed in a single word—Minotaur. For the rest of the evening, she scanned the information and read many versions of the myth, all of which were similar to what she’d searched after her first nightmares, so similar she became completely mind-boggled. Closing the cover on her computer, she warmed the soup and found solace on the sofa with the television remote in hand. Mindlessness and sleep were her only sanctuaries now.
Tomorrow she would find out more. Until then, she’d keep to herself and away from the men she was rapidly becoming attached to. Men she’d let touch her, men she wanted to touch again. Men she felt a connection with, even if it was based on a myth she wasn’t sure was real. It dawned on her she was no longer thinking in terms of a man, rather, both men. What would that be like in reality, she wondered. Was there the possibility where she could have the best of both worlds, both men with their very different personalities? What they seemed to have in common was their home, business, and her. Could something like that ever work in reality without jealousy? There were enough trapping in any two-person relationship to end many, so could the three of them find a comfort zone where they all prospered? Diana laughed, knowing there was no real peace in any relationship all the time. For her, it would be a matter of how much they annoyed her on a daily basis. Time would tell, but it was an interesting concept to dream about.
In that second, she realized she’d stopped fighting her inner voice and accepted her feelings for them. While sex was easy, she knew these feelings went deeper. Permanence, security, and love filtered through her. For the first time in her adult life, she defined her feelings for the men as love. It scared the crap out of her and calmed her at the same time. Yes, she did love both men, and apparently they had feelings for her. But she would go slow with them, afraid if she jumped into their waiting arms and something happened to end their relationship, she’d be crushed beyond repair. Right now, she could deal with going slow, and making herself comfortable with them on her terms had to prevail over their immediate wishes.
Diana woke early Monday morning on the sofa with a cramp in her neck. She took her time getting ready for work and was thankful for the text from the jewelry store confirming her appraisal. She didn’t wear the earrings. Instead, she buried them in the bottom of her carryall. For the first time, she was anxious about them, afraid she’d lose them or get mugged. Never before had the idea passed through her, but now she held death grip on the strap of her bag.
At work, she smiled and nodded to those she passed, and hurried to her basement. As she flipped on the light, she became aware of the irony. How had she not seen it before? While it wasn’t a stone labyrinth, her basement office was a self-imposed prison of sorts. Never once in all the time she’d worked there had she equated it to a prison. Glancing around, she supposed the rows and rows of file cabinets could be considered pathways through her own labyrinth.
Shaking off her odd mood, she started her machines and kept a keen eye on the clock. With her head down, she made her way out of the office and to her destination a few blocks away, never letting go of her bag.
She hesitated to push open the door and realized she was being buzzed in. Inside, the first thing that struck her was the blast of cool air hitting her face. The store was beautiful, its display cabinets and walls all antique mahogany. There were seating areas before cases, and everything sparkled. A tall, middle-aged woman approached down the center aisle, her right hand extended.
“Hello, I’m Charlize. How can I help you today?”
“I have an appointment for an appraisal. Diana Wilson.” She reached to shake the woman’s hand, knowing she was being scrutinized.
“We were expecting you. Please come this way.” Charlize took several steps and waited until Diana followed her to the back of the store where she was shown into a private room. There was a beautiful dark oak table with several velvet pads and a lamp on the top. Behind it was a single wood chair and, on her side, two upholstered slipper chairs. Diana held back a laugh thinking it was more impressive than any museum or decorator magazine she’d ever seen. She noted the flash of the camera in the upper corner of the room recording.
“Have a seat, Ms. Wilson. Hugo, our appraiser, will be right with you.” Then the other woman was gone. Moments later, the door opened a second time, and a tall, balding man entered, shaking her hand very briskly, pumping it three times and taking the seat behind the table.
“Ms. Wilson, I’m Hugo, the appraiser here. What can I do for you today?” He didn’t quite size her up and down, but she was being studied. He folded his hands on the table before him and waited for her to dig the box from the bottom of her bag.
Diana put the box on the table and cleared her throat. “I was given these by my mother, handed down through the family, I was told. I was wearing them this weekend when someone told me they weren’t costume jewelry.” She paused and settled in her seat. “He asked me if they were insured?” She pushed the box across the table within Hugo’s reach. “Now I’m nervous about having them. I’d like to know if they should be insured and for what value or if this person was…uninformed.”
“All right, let’s see what we have.” Hugo opened the box and didn’t hold back the change of expression on his face. Instantly, he seemed drawn to the earrings. He fitted a loop to his eye and, with a gentle hand, lifted one earring and started examining it. He did the same with the second one before glancing up at her. She wasn’t nervous, just anxious. Somehow, her future hinged on what this man might tell her.
“Handed down through the family?” he asked.
Diana knew immediately they were real—real expensive—and she wasn’t dressed to impress. Right now, he was probably
wondering if she’d stolen them. Sitting tall, she reiterated her prepared story. “Yes, handed down, but not with any history. Just that all the women in the family owned them. I’m afraid I’m going to be very embarrassed if they’re just costume, or mortified that I’ve been treating them that way all these years.”
“They’re very old, Ms. Wilson.” He seemed drawn to the set, going back and forth between them examining them. “Very rare.”
“What kind of stone is it? No one in the family ever said, and I’m not familiar.”
Hugo pushed back in his seat and looked at her. “I believe them to be Greenlandite. They’re very old stones, a mineral to be exact. The green is almost translucent yet you can see the glitter like veining. That’s chromium with fuchsite. They are beautiful and rare.”
“Greenlandite,” she repeated. “What about the gold beads?”
“Rare, very rare, hand forged and polished.” He handed her one of the earrings and a put a second jeweler’s loop in front of for her to view them through. “Look at how they glint in the light.”
“I am ashamed to say I never realized. Should they be insured, then?”
“Oh, yes, indeed.” Hugo paused and looked directly at her. “Unless you’d like to sell them? I have several clientele who would love to own these.”
“No, no thank you. Now that I understand their value, I’ll be more careful with them.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet. She didn’t hesitate to pull out her checkbook. “I’ll need a written appraisal to insure them. I’ll write your check while you do the paperwork.”
Hugo seemed in a trance looking at the stones. He let out a breath and all but reluctantly put them back in the box. “I’ll get the report written.” He left her, and she was instantly glad he hadn’t taken them from the room. She had a fleeting feeling that she’d never have seen them again. It seemed to take forever, but he returned in a few minutes with a document outlining the earrings, their size, shape, and value. Diana pushed back a lump in her throat as she glanced at the document. Handing over the check, she put them back in her bag along with the document.
“Thank you, Hugo. My next stop will be the insurance company.” She turned to leave, and he followed her through the store.
“Take my card, Ms. Wilson. If you ever decide to sell them, please let me know first.”
“I think they belong in a bank box for a bit,” she said with a smile. She shook his hand, three straight pumps, and wasn’t surprised when he called her back as she was about to leave.
“I’m serious. I’ll buy them at a fair market value. You’d be a very rich woman.”
“But I’d be selling my heritage, Hugo. Thank you, but no.” She made a point of leaving and hurried back to the office. Downstairs, she checked her bag three times to make sure they were tucked away.
“Well, isn’t this a kettle of fish I’ve wound up in. The earrings are antique. Sloan and Dane aren’t crazy. Where does that leave me?” She glanced around to make sure she was truly alone and nobody could hear her. The rest of the afternoon, she did her job by rote, not able to stop thinking about what would come next, what should come next, and what would be best for her in the long run.
Diana managed to get through the week without running into either Dane or Sloan. She did meet the new editor, a middle-aged man named Brent Williams. He showed up Wednesday, called a noon meeting, and introduced himself as the new managing editor. She waited for someone to ask about her men, but nobody did, and she didn’t have the courage to ask for herself. By the end of the week, it was clear Brent was in charge of the office and all things that happened at the paper on a daily basis.
He’d come down to her basement Friday afternoon, asked if she needed anything, and left after appraising her space and equipment. He didn’t offer any information about the owners, either. Saturday, she did her normal errands and housecleaning. Diana even took herself out to supper that night instead of ordering in. Home by nine, with the television remote in hand, she left the channel on a twenty-four-hour news station and tried to decide what to do.
She’d expected to see Dane or Sloan at some point during the week or at least hear from them. Now she realized they were giving her space and time to think through all the information she’d been given and what she’d gathered. She realized at some point she was going to have to make the next move. Hate and loathing filled her when she realized the men were going to make her come to them. Last weekend she had wanted to be left alone, but now she wanted them near. In that instant, she knew what she had to do.
Sunday morning, Diana rose early and prepped as if she had a date, making sure her legs were smooth and hairless. In the shower, she held the razor in hand and hesitated.
“Well, it would be different,” she said to herself aloud, debating her new idea.
After more lather, she took the first fatal stroke against her bush. Once that first pass was done, there were no reservations left as she shaved her pussy clean. Hairless for the first time in ages, she made sure she slathered her whole body with lotion, using a bit extra in that area. Diana decided it was so she wouldn’t chafe, but when she was pushing three fingers in her pussy, she accepted it was for her own pleasure. She couldn’t stop staring at herself in the bedroom mirror. When she’d come, she thought to wash but didn’t. She wanted the men to know she’d masturbated.
“Let them ask about what I did,” she said to the reflection in the mirror.
She took her time drying her hair and applying makeup. A white T-shirt and floral skirt was all she pulled on. Again she skipped the undies and enjoyed the feel of the soft material rubbing against her nipples. Slipping into sandals, she paused only to put on her heritage earrings. Satisfied with the end result, she left before she could change her mind or rub her pussy again. Taking a leisurely walk to the men’s home, she let herself enjoy the sights and sounds of the city around her. Any anxiety she’d felt earlier was gone. Now she just wanted to get to Sloan and Dane. She had questions, a lot of them, about the men, the jewelry, and their future with the newspaper. She also had questions about her future with them, too.
Arriving at their home, she didn’t hesitate to walk right through the gate and to the front door. When she knocked, she got no answer. It never dawned on her that they might not be home, still didn’t. She tried the door handle and found it unlocked. Turning it, she took a deep breath and pushed it inward. Entering their private haven, she remembered how Sloan had told her he hoped she’d come to consider it a second home. Today she felt as if it was where she’d belonged all her life. She did pause and turn, locking the door to any other intruders who might stop by.
Dropping her purse on the steps, she walked down the hallway and saw the rear doors open to the patio. Pulling a breath, she wandered farther and out to the patio. Diana’s heart skipped a beat when she saw both her men sitting in the shade of an umbrella, reading the Sunday papers. There was a pitcher on the table and a half-filled glass in front of each man. She decided it was lemonade from the slices in the pitcher. Dane dropped his paper and smiled at her. Sloan folded his carefully and pulled out the chair between them for her to join them.
“A cool drink?” he asked, lifting the pitcher.
“Yes, please. Along with a lot of answers to my questions.”
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Sloan told her as he filled a clean glass and placed it within her reach. “Come out of the sun, Diana.”
She took the few steps to join them and sat between the men, glancing back and forth between them. They were more handsome than she had remembered, and she wasn’t sure which one she wanted more. Then the realization struck her again that she was going to have both of them. Lifting the glass to her lips, she just wetted them, not sure the sweet drink would settle in her stomach right now.
Sloan sat back and waited for her to speak. Dane was holding back a smile. Addressing Dane, she finally spoke. “Sloan told me to make myself at home here. I hope you don’t mind that I walked in.�
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“Not at all. We’ve been hoping you’d come.” Dane leaned closer. “I’ve missed you, Diana. It’s been a long week.”
“I missed both of you this past week. Is it true you won’t be running the paper any longer?”
“Neither of us wants to be tied to a daily job. We’ll stop in on occasion and oversee it from a distance. It frees up a lot of our time that way.”
“And what will you do with that time?”
“We each have our hobbies.” Sloan gave her a sly smile.
“Am I one of those hobbies?” She hoped her tone didn’t sound snarky.
“No, you’re the reason we moved to New Orleans. You’re the catalyst to our futures.” Sloan sipped from his glass. “Have you begun to realize you belong here with us?”
“Let’s just be blunt, Sloan. We’ve searched for you for years. Diana, you belong with us. Even if you think we’re crazy right now, give us time to prove to you we’re not.”
“How will you prove that?” she asked, glancing from one man to the other.
“Come with us.” Sloan stood and reached for her hand. Diana let hers drop onto his and stood. Dane rose beside her. “Just trust us a bit. If you still think we’re crazy, we won’t hold it against you, won’t pressure you.”
“Where?”
“Upstairs,” Dane told her, taking the lead as they slowly walked back into the house. “Remember when I first brought you here?”
“How could I forget that afternoon? We fucked overlooking the front lawns.” Somehow she figured using the language would stop them, but it didn’t. Instead, Dane just laughed.
“Yes, that afternoon.” They reached the bottom of the stairs. “I brought you here to show you your room.”
