Double Stuffed: An MFM Menage Romance

by Dawn, Daphne

  “Good morning, Maddie.” I shake her hand.

  She leads me to a waiting area and invites me to take a seat. I stay near her workspace and watch her type at breakneck speed.

  “How long have you been with Blake now? Must be close to ten years?” While I’ve not met Maddie face to face, I’ve spoken to her on the phone many times before.

  “Six years.” She looks up briefly with a smile. When you look at her from the side, you can barely notice the scars.

  “You must be one patient woman,” I observe. In silence, I take my hat off to Blake for having hired Maddie. She would have had a hard time finding work with the scarring. But Blake had obviously been able to look past the exterior.

  Maddie stops typing, briefly.

  “Yes, six years. I was a bit skeptical about it first.” I see a slight shadow darken her soft eyes. “But Blake believed I was perfect for the job. He does not like to mix business and pleasure. He was finding it difficult to find someone who didn’t want get into his pants.”

  I laugh. Maddie’s the real deal.

  “Is he in a meeting?”

  She nods.

  “He shouldn’t be too much longer,” she replies, and her hands go back to flying across the keyboard. Instead of taking a seat, I pace the room. I stop to admire some artwork, before I stare out the window and return to pacing again.

  I find I’m unable to sit still if my mind is working overtime.

  The door opens and I turn toward it. A woman in a business suit leaves Blake’s office. Our eyes meet and he smiles at me.

  I follow his invitation into his office.

  “Maddie, please bring us two strong coffees.”

  Without a word, Maddie leaves her position. Blake shuts the door.

  He turns to me with a look that is meant to say, ‘what the fuck are you doing in my office?’

  “Well, well,” I say and look around. “Who’d have thought I’d visit the office of the opposition.”

  Blake laughs. He pats me on the back.

  “Times are a changing,” he replies and goes to sit on the couch.

  Maddie comes in with coffee.

  “And all due to the power of one amazing woman.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes.

  I join Blake on the lounge and point to one of his pictures on the wall.

  “Is that a photograph or a painting?”

  It’s the eye of an animal and ever since I set foot in here I’ve felt it watching me. Blake follows my finger.

  “A photograph.” He sounds bemused. “You don’t like it?”

  I shake my head.

  “On the contrary, I love it.” There’s something surreal about the eye and it makes you feel as if the creature is looking right into your soul. You could not tell a lie with an eye as powerful as this one looking at you all the time.

  He nods.

  “I do too.” We both stare at it for a while in silence.

  “Now then,” Blake starts and breaks the silence first. “I’m pretty flattered you’ve come to see me in my kingdom, but I have to wonder what brings a McDaniels all the way out here?”

  I laugh and wonder why we haven’t ventured into business together already. Sitting here in this modest office with amazing pictures, a view to die for, and a man with a sense of humor along the lines of my own, I feel we would make a fucking powerful team.

  “Blake, my friend,” I start, and look him in the eyes. “We have a problem.”

  Chapter 45

  Blake

  “It doesn’t add up. She’s been doing fine, and customers loved her product. And then we come along, and things go pear-shaped.”

  I play with my fidget spinner, a silver ninja blade toy, and listen. Seth’s sudden visit has unnerved me a little.

  “We all know she’s got awesome talent―” Seth begins to say.

  “You can say that again,” I mutter under my breath and wonder if Seth heard me.

  “―but she hasn’t got the business mind, nor the infrastructure or staff to build on her talent.”

  Seth pauses and sips on his coffee. Maddie’s listening and typing on the computer. I’m listening and spinning.

  “The thing is, the raving has turned to complaining, and we all know what happens when customers start complaining. Dissatisfied customers turn to those websites where everyone and anyone becomes an expert reviewer. People who can’t spell will leave negative feedback, and before you know it, Leila and her scones will be out on the street,” Seth says.

  “I saw a successful café go from a three-hour lunch waiting time to going broke in a matter of weeks because of negative reviews on some social media site,” he adds. “I don’t want to see Leila fail. So I think we need to do something together to help her.”

  I was tapping my foot while listening to Seth’s summary, my brow furrowed. But now, in the end, I nod.

  I agree. I don’t want to see Leila fail either. A little bit of guilt seeps through me. Had I been too busy trying to outdo Seth and win Leila over for myself, in the process losing touch with what the main aim of the initial meeting with her was?

  “Are you sure it’s as bad as you make it out to be?”

  It’s not that I don’t trust Seth―he’s got great business sense. But he’s bamboozled by Leila and the fucking amazing sex we’ve been having. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were thinking with his cock and not his brain.

  “Maddie.” I turn to my trusty assistant. “Have you got some figures on this?”

  Maddie turns the oversized computer screen towards us.

  She opens up a couple of sites and reads some of the comments. They’re not exactly flattering. Then she closes the Internet and opens up some other program. Within seconds, she’s showing us a graph of some sort.

  “This shows the business performance,” Maddie explains and points to the screen.

  There are different colored lines crawling across the page. One is purple, the other is orange, and a third is black. The purple one is the most active one.

  “This steady line refers to business popularity―before her scones. Then it increases dramatically with the sale of the amazingly delicious scones.” She points to the line dropping drastically. “And then this is when she left for the Bahamas with you, until…now.” Maddie’s finger’s been following the purple line.

  The drop is obvious, even to someone who doesn’t understand business. I say nothing.

  “See, I told you so. We have a problem.” Seth is standing, and he begins pacing the room. Up and down he walks, coffee in one hand.

  I still say nothing. There’s no point in getting angry, disagreeing or casting blame. Finding someone to blame doesn’t fix the problem. People are often quick to lay blame, rarely accepting responsibility for their own actions.

  For Leila’s sake, we need to fix the problem. And quickly.

  I watch Seth pace the floor like a caged tiger. Seeing him like this, it occurs to me that we’re more alike than I’ve been ready to admit.

  I sigh.

  “Looks like we’re the cause of the decline,” I say, more to myself and more to say something than to get an actual response.

  Seth stops and nods. “I feel fucking awful, man,” he replies and starts pacing again.

  “Yeah, I feel bad, too,” I allow. “But feeling bad won’t help Leila. What do we do to fix the problem?”

  Maddie mumbles something about work ethic, but I ignore her.

  Seth stops in front of my white board. He picks up a pen and turns to me.

  “Can I rub this off?”

  I nod.

  When the board is all white, he writes Leila’s name in the middle in large letters. Next, he adds my name and his own on either side. He connects the three names.

  “We need to work out what works for all of us.” He turns to me. “Both of us want Leila, and we want to help her grow her business to one of culinary brilliance.”

  Now that Seth’s spelled it out, it dawns on me. If I want Leila, I have to share.
And I will have to join Seth on this venture, both in business and in private.

  I swallow. Sharing’s not my strength—never has been.

  “What does she need to do to realize the brilliance of her product and grow it to its full potential?”

  I watch my fidget spinner go around and around on the top of my index finger.

  “Money, time, staff, premises.” I rattle of some of the things that come to mind. “Money is the obvious one. Every business can grow with an injection of capital; Leila’s will be no exception to the rule.”

  Seth writes those on the white board underneath Leila’s name. He hovers in front of his mapping, and then I see him add the name of the café underneath her name.

  “To make this work,” starts Seth as he turns to face me, “we need to work together on a business plan. We can’t just go throwing money at her. First, I think we need to look at premises, staffing, wages and then how much all of it is going to cost.”

  Slowly, I nod. I feel like a non-swimmer dropped into the ocean a long way out from sea. It’s unfamiliar territory, and I’m not sure if I like it.

  “For Leila, we need to work this out together.”

  I sigh. I know he’s right. Fuck, it hurts to admit this.

  “Got all that, Maddie?”

  My trusty assistant nods and smiles.

  “I’ll email it to both of you shortly.”

  When she’s left the office, Seth comes over to me and holds out his hand.

  I shake it and he says, “To partners.”

  Slowly, I nod and echo, “To partners.”

  Chapter 46

  Leila

  I lean back into the oversized cushion on the couch. Chase is sitting across from me with his legs up on the seat. Anyone looking at us would think we’re the perfect couple.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” I say between mouthfuls of food.

  Chase raises an eyebrow in that questionable way he’s so good at.

  His looks like ‘ what the fuck are you talking about, we’re eating delicious takeaway food not having sex.’

  I roll my eyes at him and am tempted to throw a cushion, but I stop myself. If I do engage in such childish activity, I might topple over the takeaway containers in the process and then I’ll have to clean up the mess. And I’ve done enough fucking cleaning in the last few days.

  My body’s already worn out past the point of exhaustion, no point pushing it further, past its limits.

  “My mother believed takeaway food never hurt nobody,” Chase tells me, and I roll my eyes again.

  “Probably because your mother couldn’t cook,” I retort and Chase shrugs.

  “Whatever the reason, she was probably right.”

  Amazing the kind of crap people tell themselves and actually believe.

  “Healthy food is what we should be eating.”

  Of course we should be eating good healthy meals from natural food. But to do so, one of us would have to cook. At the end of the day, we only have energy to use our fingers to dial the closest takeaway outlet and order a late-night dinner.

  If I keep going at this rate, I’m bound to put on the pounds.

  For a few minutes I allow myself to relive the exquisite dinner Seth cooked for me; my mouth waters just thinking about it.

  Of course, at the same time I’m reminded of the fucking fantastic sex we had that night. How we danced naked together in the moonlight, how he fucked me from behind and how I gave him a fantastic blowjob.

  I see the moonbeams creep across the floor and Seth’s god-like body and massive cock. Those were the days.

  “You okay?” Chase’s staring at me, his expression quizzical.

  I shake my head. I’m not fucking ok.

  “My feet are hurting.”

  “I ain’t rubbing them.” Chase throws up his hand in a ‘don’t you even think about it’ gesture.

  “As if,” I mumble and stuff more noodles into my mouth. Fatty fast food is food for the soul. “I think we need to think about hiring someone else,” I say once I’ve finished this mouthful.

  I’ve been mulling over this for a while now. Fact is, the work is just too much for Chase and me. For the last two days we’ve come home totally shattered after our fourteen plus hour shifts.

  I don’t know about Chase, but I won’t be able to keep going at this pace for much longer. If something doesn’t change soon, I’ll be worn out and past my used by date.

  To my surprise, Chase says nothing. He neither agrees nor does he disagree. This leaves me feeling a little uneasy. What’s going on?

  Chase is not one to hold back with his opinions, particular on things that matter, and I would have thought the running of the café matters to him.

  Have I been wrong? Is Chase not as committed to this as I thought? Had he other irons in the fire I was not aware of.

  My imagination starts to work over time. I’m starting to imagine all kinds of projects Chase is interested in. Could I have been so blind? I really had my mind in the wrong place lately.

  “So,” Chase starts, and my heart beats a little faster.

  Is he about to quit on me? Will I lose him the way I lost Blake and Seth? Although if I’m honest with myself, I didn’t really lose those two, I just couldn’t keep up with their lifestyle.

  But I can’t afford to lose Chase. My mind’s working overtime trying to come up with something to say to keep him from abandoning me.

  “Have you seen Blake or Seth lately?”

  At first, I only hear words and the meaning doesn’t make sense.

  Chase said something about Blake and Seth and nothing about him leaving the business and me being on my own.

  “So?” Chase draws out the “o” in so.

  I shake my head, relief washing over me. I don’t know what I’d do if Chase left me. I would be lost that’s what I’d be.

  “No, and it’s better this way.”

  Chase gives me another raised eyebrow look, the one that means ‘ yeah fucking right, tell someone who believes you. ’ I ignore him.

  “I think I’ll go to bed,” he tells me, and I nod.

  We’ve got another long day ahead of us. It’s probably time we both got our beauty sleep.

  I watch him disappear into his room before I too rise off the couch and clear away our dinner. The beauty about takeaway food is, there’s no washing up.

  Once the living room is reasonably tidy, I head for my own bed.

  Buried between my silky covers, I sigh.

  With my body close to exhaustion at the end of each night, I’m able not to dwell on Seth or Blake. Sure, I think about them from time to time, but as soon as I do, push those thoughts aside and get myself busy on the tasks at hand.

  If I want to make it in the culinary world, I need to stay focused. Whenever I’ve been with either of them, or both of them, I’ve not been able to stay on task. To succeed staying on task is everything.

  I sigh and snuggle closer into my blankets.

  How nice would it be to have another human being in bed with me, to snuggle into and have their arm wrapped around my body? More to the point, how nice would it be if both Seth and Blake were here to comfort me, hold me, and of course fuck me?

  Focus, I remind myself and close my eyes. I try and think of scones, but for some reason my mind drifts to huge cocks and fucking amazing sex.

  Chapter 47

  Leila

  Something’s buzzing around my head. I hate annoying noises, particularly if I’m unable to work out where they’re coming from or what they are.

  This is one not one of those ugly bug-eyed flies, nor is it a jackhammer. Could it be a phone?

  For some reason my brain’s just refusing to kick into gear.

  I’m in that delicious state of just waking up. The world feels perfect as I snuggle into my feather pillow.

  Suddenly, as my mind registers the annoying noise as the ringing of the phone, I sit bold upright. I notice the light streaming into my bedroom through the poorly
shut curtains. With the amount of sunlight coming in, it must be well and truly after six in the morning.

  Frantically, my fingers reach for my mobile. It’s stopped ringing.

  The screen displays eight missed calls from a number I don’t recognize.

  It’s the time that has me groaning.

  Fuck. I’ve overslept.

  I decide to skip the shower and grab yesterday’s clothes. No one will notice. Once I put on my apron no one can tell what I’m wearing. Just as I button up my blouse, the phone rings again.

  “Hello.” I squeeze the mobile between right ear and shoulder.

  All I can hear is strange noises. Could be someone walking across a marble floor.

  “Hello,” I try again, and switch sides as I put on my shoes.

  The call gets disconnected.

  It takes only a few seconds and it rings again.

  “Leila here,” I try, and listen yet again.

  “Is that you dear?”

  The voice sounds familiar. Frantically, my brain tries to place the muffled voice.

  “Dear…it’s…lovely,” are the only words I can make out.

  “Mom? Dad?” It sounds like Mom and I think I can hear Dad yelling something in the background. Is that the sound of a plane taking off?

  I shake my head and stare at the screen, which displays ‘call ended.’

  “Fuck,” I mutter a second time.

  My fingers fumble with the phone and it falls to the ground. Thank goodness for carpet, the last thing I need now is a broken phone.

  When I’ve picked it up again, I press redial.

  Your call cannot be connected; do you want to try again?

  I swear at the display of the phone. Of course it’s not at fault but that does not mean I can’t blame it.

  Is today the first of April? Have I missed something, an anniversary, or an important birthday? My mind comes up blank.

  I open the door of my bedroom and stop dead in my tracks when I see Chase sitting on the lounge eating cheese pizza.

  Even from this distance I can tell it’s cheese.

  “What—” I start but the rest of the words get stuck in my throat.

  “Pizza?” Chase holds a piece out to me.