by Fawkes, Sara
watching the scene not from an emotional point but, instead, with his wise mind.
Laura’s nose turned up a little when she smiled. Her cheeks looked like apples when she laughed.
The skin at the edges of her eyes folded in a way that conveyed compassion and empathy when she
listened. Her body moved with grace and purpose, whether she was changing a diaper or talking to the
woman who baked fresh bread for the farmer's market. From the blonde beauty they'd met online, to
the woman timid and fearful they were making fun of her, to the broken-hearted person who'd been
too upset to reveal her pregnancy, Laura had shown them so many sides of herself.
And he loved every damn one of them.
So why hide this? Bondage and domination and cravings and control while naked and steamy and
full of temptation – how could she think he and Dylan wouldn't be on board? Give him a collar and
some rope and every sex toy you could imagine and he'd be ready, willing, able and hot.
What made her read so much, allow her mind to feed off this, but kept her from telling the two
men who were her life partners, who wanted to please her and share every intimate experience you
could imagine?
Had they done something wrong?
The questions killed him, ricocheting around like errant fireworks, careening aimlessly but ready
to explode on impact, far off course. And then he realized people were speaking to him.
“Helloooo!” Josie waved one arm, the other struggling to put on the baby carrier Laura was
offering. “Earth to Mike!”
He ran a hand through his freshly-clipped hair. It felt good to have shorter hair, no beard, and a
clean, pressed shirt. What joy the little things in life held. “Sorry. Thinking.”
“Too much of that is bad for you,” Laura joked, eyes panicked. Dylan was loading their overnight
bags into the jeep, and he could tell from the tension in Laura's voice that she was about to –
“C'mere,” Mike said, pulling her into his arms. The sobs poured out. Alex now held Jillian and
deftly turned away so she wouldn't see her mother crying. Finding a blanket, he put it on the floor, and
then gently set her down. As Mike soothed Laura and smoothed her hair, he realized he hadn't been
this close to her, bodies touching the full line from shoulder to knee, in far, far too long. Recent hugs
had been more perfunctory. Kisses had been simple pecks.
That was far too little.
No more of too little.
They deserved caresses and pats, longing looks and playful smacks, deep kisses in the kitchen,
pushed up against the counter, tongues and hands exactly where they should be, holding flesh and
promises of rendezvous later in the night between the sheets. He wanted frenzied quickies during
naptime and slow baths in the huge Jacuzzi on the deck, the first whispers of snow in the mountains
hinting at a winter wonderland, making love beneath an audience of stars in the inky sky.
Watching Alex play with the baby, who was decked out in a red and white striped outfit with
hearts sprinkled randomly in the cloth, he closed his eyes as Laura reached up and wiped her eyes,
laughing sheepishly. “What's wrong with me?” she asked. “I want to go away. I need to be with you
and Dylan.”
Josie grunted next to them, wide chocolate eyes beseeching as the tangled multi-colored cloth and
brass rings of the baby sling twisted her arm behind her. “Is this really some sort of strange sex toy?
Because I'm totally tied up now.”
That got Laura chuckling, a genuine sound of amusement that made Mike feel better about having
her pull away from him, the loss of the heat of her skin against his making him all the more
determined that tonight needed to be theirs – nothing but the three of them.
“Let me unravel you,” she said as she helped her friend align the contraption. Alex turned back and
waggled his eyebrows at Josie in a comically overdone lascivious look that made Mike burst out
laughing, his body suddenly content. More than content – right. He felt right. Everything would be just
fine, he knew, if he and Dylan could get Laura out of her head space and into a more sensorial,
explorative frame of mind.
With the set up she was about to discover, there was no way she could stay in her own mind.
He and Dylan had put a lot of effort into that.
Laura unraveled Josie and was poring over a four-page, single-spaced, handwritten set of notes,
complete with diagrams and charts, for how to take care of Jillian for the next eighteen hours.
Josie shot Mike a look that said, Kill me now.
He shrugged. She mouthed, You owe me.
No kidding, he mouthed back.
“You guys taking mime lessons?” Dylan asked, hands full of Laura's purse and her coat.
“Done packing?” Mike asked, avoiding the silly question.
“We're ready to go!” Dylan replied.
Laura looked up, eyes wide, hands reaching for Jillian. Alex gently transferred the babbling baby
to her mother. Laura's half smile vanished, her cheeks going pale, as the moment had come.
She had to trust Josie and Alex to watch the baby.
But most of all, she had to trust Mike and Dylan to go back to that time when it had just been
them. To give herself a portion of a day to be Laura. Just Laura.
They wouldn't be Mommy and Daddy and Daddy and roommate and errand runner and burper and
diaper changer and breastfeeder and soother.
For eighteen hours they would be Mike, Dylan and Laura.
Mike hardened at the thought.
Laura
“If you huff the baby's head any harder you'll make her go bald, Laura,” Josie said as Laura sniffed
Jillian's head. Inhaling deeply, Laura used the gesture to center herself. This really was ridiculous.
Everyone would be fine.
Josie wrapped her arm around Laura's shoulder and squeezed. “We really will be fine. Just hand
her over and go have fun with your guys. Get your groove on.”
Groove? Was this the '70s? The comment made Laura laugh again, and Josie took the opportunity
to slide her hands around Jillian’s little striped ribcage, expertly guiding her little feet through the
baby wrap and – voila! The baby rested on Josie's hip as she tightened the cloth to secure her on.
“That was perfect!” Laura gasped, genuinely impressed.
“Gah!” Jillian gurgled in agreement, bright eyes turning to Laura, then focusing on the ends of
Josie's hair.
Warm fingers slipped through hers. “Let's go,” Mike urged, pulling gently. With feet feeling like
concrete, she lurched along next to him, feeling both heavier and lighter with each step away from her
little girl. As they crossed the threshold, she willed herself not to look back, knowing the baby might
cry.
Instead, it was Laura who cried as they walked to the Jeep. Dylan was standing next to it, arms
outstretched toward her. As his arms enveloped her, the scent of aftershave and his musk mingled in
her senses as she inhaled, throat shaky.
He smelled so good. So man.
And all hers.
A dull ache emerged deep inside, a desire for something she hadn't even thought to want in a very,
very long time, emerged with such force she closed her eyes and tried to hold it back. It was too much,
too fast, and too hard.
And...so was Dylan.
Her hand, as if driven by a will of its own, slid over his hip and down the fro
nt, fingers finding the
outline of his straining erection against his pants. His sharp inhale pleased her. Ah, yes – this power.
She'd forgotten about the thrill of arousing a man, how a simple caress could drive him to a frenzy, the
promise of more and the tease of not now so intoxicating.
Knowing they could complete whatever she suggested pleased her, too.
A sharp stab of doubt hit her as he leaned in for a kiss.
Her hands found the same man she'd first touched fifteen months ago. What did his hands find
when he reached for her? A very different Laura, with a body that had changed too much.
She was too much.
And just like that, the light turned off inside and she pulled back, leaving a very confused Dylan.
Mike, thankfully, saved her.
“Let's go! The minutes are ticking, and we have a surprise for you, Laura,” Mike said, voice a little
too tight to be cheerful as he slid behind the steering wheel. His eye cut to the rear-view mirror and
met Dylan's, in the back seat. They both seemed to alternate between compassion for her and ruthless
efficiency. She couldn't blame them; they were probably worried she'd back out. She dutifully buckled
herself into the front passenger seat, and as the Jeep peeled out of the driveway, gravel kicking up and
pinging against the sides of the vehicle, all three shared a huge, deep, loud sigh of relief.
“My God, we did it!” Laura laughed. Each foot away from the cabin made her feel conflicted, yet
she breathed easier. Maybe the conflicted feeling was what she thought she was supposed to feel, and
not actually what she really felt. An entire day with no baby attached to her seemed unreal.
Leaving the cabin behind felt like a kind of escape, too. It wasn’t that she didn't go out; she and
Jillian went to stores, shopped, played at playgrounds, and took a weekly baby swimming class. But
this was different. And as Mike's hand snaked across the gear shift to hold hers, she remembered that
her guys were waiting with bated breath to get into bed and unleash some pent up desires, too.
When had she become “that woman,” the one who wasn't interested? Every sex toy you could
imagine had once lived in her bedside table, and her rich inner fantasy world had created sex positions
that just plain old defied the laws of physics. She, Mike and Dylan had collectively explored about
half of those – and now...nothing. She was happy to please them, but not really interested in being
pleased.
Why? What had changed?
Within five minutes, Mike was pulling in to a small driveway at the edge of the ski resort. “What's
this?” she asked, curious. “I thought we were going in to the city for the night.”
“It's a surprise,” he said in a low, suggestive voice. As the road narrowed, the brown leaves
clinging to trees that should have released their burden by now, large pines appeared, tall and
foreboding.
And then – a tiny cabin, the size of a turret, with a winding staircase around the outside. Made of
unfinished timber, it looked like a fairy cottage, delicate and sturdy all at once, like a handcrafted
home out of a fantasy movie.
“What is this?” she marveled. The cabin was two stories, but small. A wall of glass faced south,
and she could see a small deck near what appeared to be the front door. On the deck sat a wooden hot
tub, like something you'd see in Finland.
“A new property for the resort. We're testing out little eco-cabins, to see if we can encourage ski
tourism.”
The Jeep came to a halt and they piled out.
“And this is where we're staying? Boy, this sure is remote,” she said, intrigued. The driveway was
a good eighth of a mile, and as she scanned the full circle of the site, there wasn't any sign of
civilization as far as she could see. The cabin itself almost seemed to have sprung up out of nature,
Laura’s view took in the timber steps, made from solid logs cut to fit, and the solar panels on the roof.
“Solar?”
“I said it was an eco-cabin,” Mike reminded her. “We have electricity, running water, and a grey
water recycling system.”
“Is there a bathroom?”
“Yep. No worries. It has all the luxuries!” he assured her. A deck light glowed and she realized
how close to winter they were. It was just barely 4pm and already dusk was settling in. They had to be
back at 10am tomorrow. An image of Jillian hit her, how soft her skin was, how her chubby fists felt
in Laura's hair.
“We have everything we could possibly need,” Dylan added, a bit cryptically, hefting some
luggage in each hand. Mike grabbed a bag as well, his other hand reaching into his front pocket.
Watching him fumble and dig for the keys, Laura saw ample evidence of just how excited Mike was
for this night. The two men emptied the Jeep in two trips. Laura hung back as they finished unloading,
joining Mike on the front deck when they were done; Dylan remained inside. Mike’s arm slid about
her waist, confirming what his jeans had already hinted: this night was planned as a sexfest.
Mike gave her a look of warmth, love and teasing that made her toes tingle and – for one lovely,
fleeting second – she felt transformed. All her worries and insecurities disappeared as if desiccated
and blown away on the wind, carried off like dust she needn't ever worry about. The thought of making
love with him made her body rev up reflexively.
But her mind quickly ground to a screeching halt. Sex was the last thing she wanted to want. As if
dragging her limbs through concrete, she moved toward him, a sense of dread and angst filling her.
She wasn't supposed to feel like this! Making love was what she was supposed to want, right? Stalling
for time, she pretended she was still admiring the cabin. She noted there were no curtains on any
windows, and why would they need them.
They were completely isolated. Only a deer or a fox would see them if they walked around nude.
Poor deer. Wouldn't want to see me naked, either, she thought, and then clamped down on the negative
words. Stop it! This intrusive voice wouldn't stop cutting her down, and she wished desperately she
could spend the night curled up with her eReader, even here. The only time the voice went away was
when she kept her mind occupied with books. Crawling into someone else's sensual world, where the
hero and heroine possessed so many faults, and love overcame all...
“Hey,” Mike said gently, unlocking his knees to level himself with her, hands cradling her face.
“What's going on inside that gorgeous head?”
Panic kicked in to high gear. How could she admit what she was feeling? Impossible. She didn't
want him to doubt that she loved them. Or wanted them. Or needed them. But how could she say what
she was really experiencing? The fissures in their relationship that this kind of revelation would bring
were just too dangerous.
Better to keep it to herself.
A shaky, deep breath and she caught his eyes, making herself fake a brightness and freedom she
definitely did not feel. “Just...thinking about Jillian.” Not a lie. Well, not...technically.
“You can think about her tomorrow,” he said in a dark, steamy voice, his lips taking hers. His
hands were on her, fingers sinking in to her waist, lips owning her and then his tongue seeking to find
her, all the motion so fast she felt a fire flare within, making every cell
warm instantly.
As his tongue traced her teeth and his arms tightened around her, whatever train of thought she had
until that moment died quickly. Melting into his arms, she was dimly aware of a light vanilla and
sandalwood aroma mixing with the taste of Mike, making her wonder... Their sex life as a triad had
morphed over the past year. Sometimes she slept with Mike. Sometimes Dylan. Sometimes both. No
one seemed to get jealous or bitter or angry: they made it all up as they went along. Often if she was
with one of them like this, the other would join in, a second set of warm hands were on her, always
very welcome if not expected. A flash of memory, of Dylan’s palm on the small of her back, then
riding down to grasp her ass, made her smile through Mike's kiss, which seemed to ignite him. Her
mind began to nag more and more insistently, urging her to note the absence of Dylan's hands on her,
and finally made her break away from Mike and ask, “Dylan? What is he – ?”
Smiling, Mike pushed the door to the cabin open. As she turned, she saw the answer.
Candles.
Hundreds of them. Dylan had been lighting them, encircling the interior of the round little house, a
glow that warmed her further. How precious. How startling and wonderful. As dusk settled in out here
on the deck, the warmth the candles cast over the interior made the cabin seem like a sanctuary.
She and Mike stepped through the door just as Dylan crossed by it, pecking a quick kiss on her as
he walked past, his target the fireplace. The care they’d taken to set up this moment made her
appreciate both men.
Mike stared down at her, eyes ablaze. “Some wine?”
“I'd love some,” she replied, giving his arm a caress of thanks, of affection, of appreciation. She
took in the rest of the interior. Sexfest, indeed. The bed was enormous – bigger than a California King
– and dead center in the middle of the circular room. A cream-colored net, suspended from the ceiling,
draped down over the huge, down-comforter-covered mattress, more pillows sprinkled about than an
entire Bed, Bath and Beyond could even contain. Underneath the scented candles’ perfume, the room
smelled like the fresh cedar the cabin was made of, a scent of comfort.
Mike brought her a shining wine glass half full of a lovely rosé. She gulped half down without
