Obsession: A Twin Menage Romance

by Stephanie Brother

  My half-faded, half-worn unique twist on the skull and crossbones symbol, that incorporates a necklace wrapped around the bones themselves and ‘Rosalie’ etched so subtly into the jawbone without knowing it’s there you could easily mistake it for shadowing, is some of the best work I think I’ve ever produced.

  When I’m done, I step back away and join the other three to admire it.

  “That’s incredible”, Logan says. “He said you were good, but that’s out of this world.”

  In here nobody can see my cheeks go red. “Thank you”, I say meekly. “It’s different to the style I usually draw in, but I think it works well for this.”

  “It’s perfect”, Jack acknowledges.

  “We’re done here too”, Logan says. “The earth is too compacted at the bottom to get through, plus we don’t want to bury this thing for the whole of eternity.” He picks up the skull and holds it out to the group. “Who wants to do the honors?”

  “It’s your skull”, Alice says.

  “Let’s do it together”, I say, stepping forward to put my hands on it.

  Alice shrugs. “I can get with that”, she says, moving closer to join us.

  “Alright”, Jack says, “I’m game too.”

  I know holding hands with a skull in between us shouldn’t really count as holding hands, but I’m going to say it does. We guide the thing to the trench Jack and Logan have excavated and then lower it as deep as we can reach.

  “Should we say something?” I ask.

  “Goodbye Shadowheart?” Logan suggests.

  “Come on, we can do better than that”, Jack says. “We commit to the earth the legend of Shadowheart, to rest in peace with Rosalie, his one and only true love.”

  “I think my version was better”, Logan complains, all of us letting the skull go at once.

  There is a dull thud as it hits the earth at the bottom of the trench, and then a much louder crack that breaks through the soft silence that had settled nicely around us in the wake of the burial, that scares seven shades of shit out of everyone. Alice screams, I grab hold of both Logan and Jack and I can practically hear my heart leaping out of my chest.

  “Please tell me that wasn’t Rosalie coming to get her necklace”, Alice says.

  “I have no idea what that was”, Logan says, flashing his cell phone torch in the direction we came in, “but we should probably finish up as quickly as we can and get out of here.”

  It takes about a quarter of the time to fill the hole as it did to dig it, every single one of us working hard to replace the shifted earth, terrified that whatever that noise was might be an indication of something absolutely unthinkable to come.

  When we’ve finished, the soil has been replaced and stomped down, and Logan has checked that we’ve got the tools we came in with, we make our way back to the boarded up window, too keen to get out to even bother commenting about the return of the sound of the rats.

  Outside, we pause in the milky light, gasping for the breath we’ve spent the last few minutes holding tight in our chests. There is a fine rain in the air, almost like a mist spray and I wonder for a moment whether the sound we heard might have been the whipcrack of thunder. Whatever it was, the moment has passed. Jack and Logan are laughing, and it’s so infectious I can’t help but join them too. I know all we’ve done is bury a monkey skull in the earth and make up a story about it’s origin between the four of us, but I can’t help feeling both a sense of achievement and a solidarity with these two men already, unusual for the small amount of time we’ve spent in each other’s company.

  I know it sounds stupid to say it, but I feel like this is where I belong, where I’ve always belonged and how it’s meant to be for the rest of our lives, until it’s not a monkey head getting burying in the ground, it’s the three of us after a lifetime of happiness together.

  “That was awesome”, Logan says, pulling everyone together for an impromptu group hug.

  “You guys are crazy”, Alice says, when we’ve broken the bond again, way too early for my liking. “All of you.”

  She may have been the most scared of the four of us, when whatever it was made that heart stopping sound, but it’s definitely not been enough to stop her from seeing the funny side of it now.

  “You were scared”, I say to Logan. “Admit it.”

  “Archeologists don’t get scared of unusual noises”, Logan says with mock confidence. “That’s Jack’s department.”

  “My department is to make other people scared, not the other way round. Besides which, it was a car backfiring. Nothing unusual about that, right?”

  “Nothing unusual at all”, Logan says.

  “Whether it was a car backfiring or something else entirely, who wants to get out of here now?” Alice asks.

  “Me”, we all respond in chorus, before we make our way quickly back to the shadows at the end of the alleyway, where I’m happy to see the car is still parked.

  It takes some expert maneuvering on Logan’s part to reverse out of the dead-end street and back to somewhere he can turn around, and with the bay falling away behind us we make our way back to the lights of Brooklyn.

  The digital clock on the dash reads 23:47, much later than I thought it might be. I’m not Cinderella, but the night feels like it’s coming to a close and the last thing I want to do is part company. My thoughts go back to the beginning of the evening and despite the heat all over my body, I try and focus on Alice’s words: make them leave wanting it tonight, and the next time will be like a thunder storm in a firework’s factory.

  “So”, Logan says, “who wants to do that again another time?”

  “How about something more conventional?” Alice says, while she purposely looks at me. “A bar, the cinema, a romantic candlelit dinner.”

  “Penny?” Logan asks.

  “Absolutely”, I say, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. “This is exactly the kind of thing I love doing.”

  “I could take you on a field job”, Logan says. “Now that you’re going to be working with Jack, it doesn’t seem fair that he gets to see you all day and not me.”

  “I’d like that”, I say.

  “You can always come into the studio”, Jack suggests to him. “Help us work on the pirate story.”

  Logan laughs. “It’s not really my natural environment.”

  Brooklyn looks like a world away from the place we’ve just been, the streets filled with people moving from bar to bar, lights, activity, real life being lived. I can’t help but want it more than ever, as long as I get these two men to come along for the ride, of course.

  “I’ve had an amazing time”, I say. “Thank you, both of you. That’s the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

  I stop short of saying, can we make the second one with both of you? Because there’s no way I can broach the subject without coming across as weird and totally insensitive to everyone else in the car.

  “Are you kidding?” Logan says. “That’s the best first date you’ll ever go on.”

  I like his sarcasm, his mock confidence, the way he jokes constantly to hide what he really wants to say. I like him enormously, as I do Jack for his sensitivity, his imagination and his quiet self confidence. The two of them make me wish I was the kind of person who knew how to get people in bed by just looking at them the right way, without even uttering a single word.

  Logan takes the car back to where he had it parked, what’s left of the short journey through the streets of Flatbush completed in the kind of comfortable silence that rarely spills into the realms of first dates. I’ve known people for twenty years I haven’t felt this comfortable with, other’s who can’t bear silence between us so much they’d resort to narrating what’s going on outside the car just to avoid feeling nervous, which is why I know this is special.

  “I can take you guys somewhere else if you want?” Logan says, leaning over the edge of his seat to face us. Even if we wanted to go back inside, the bar we were in earlier is now closed.


  “This is good”, I say.

  “It’s perfect for me too”, Alice adds.

  Outside the car, all four of us stood on the sidewalk, we awkwardly wait for someone to initiate the goodbyes. Jack is the first to do so, taking hold of Alice in a hug and thanking her for her company. He then takes hold of me, leaving absolutely no doubt to anyone watching exactly whose company he has preferred more. I’m blushing hard when he finally lets me go, neither one of us left with any need to confirm verbally what we’re both thinking.

  Logan follows suit, hugging Alice first before moving on to me, as though leaving his favorite chocolate for last.

  “Same again next weekend?” Logan asks, when he’s finally come to terms with having to let me go for the night.

  “Okay”, I say, unable to stop my eyes from flicking between the both of them. “I’d really like that.”

  If the person with me were anyone other than Alice, she might feel a little heartbroken. As it is, Alice takes the absence of the same question from Jack - her date for the night - without issue. I know she knows how important this is for me, and without asking her I can tell she has the same opinion. Jack and Logan are clearly my perfect match.

  “I guess I’ll see you on Monday”, Jack says.

  “Yep”, I say meekly, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

  “Think about the story in the meantime”, he adds. “We can’t bury a pirate’s head and not provide a map to find it.”

  “I’ll call you”, Logan says, and a moment later they are back in the car.

  I wave as they pull away and watch for as long as I can until the car finally disappears in the haze of lights in the distance.

  “I’m in love”, I say, as though suffering shock. “I think I’m actually in love.”

  Alice can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know how you do it, Penny”, she says, wrapping her arms around me, “but I don’t think you’re the only one.”

  Part 3

  Chapter Sixteen

  I spend the rest of the weekend drawing: elaborate sex scenes that might not even be possible to achieve, a reworking of the end of Friday night in which the twins take me back home to the invented house they share in Brooklyn for hour after hour of passionate indulgence, a sneak peak into our future together as the world’s most interesting threeway couple. When I’m done, I have almost an entire erotic graphic novel with myself as the female protagonist, and an insatiable desire to act it out for real.

  I haven’t heard from Jack or Logan, but I hope that while I’ve been busy illustrating my naughty fantasies over the last few days, they might have been working in collaboration to see whether what I am almost certain they both want with me, might actually work for real.

  Last week I was on the way to the comic book store, dreading the drudgery that lay ahead, while right now I can’t wait to get into my brand new office to work on something I love, while Jack stands so close to me I can count the beats of his heart.

  In all other ways, this is a normal morning. I share the bus with commuters going to work for the day, outside the weather is changeable, the world beyond my own head is the same as it always has been, yet I know I’ve begun the most important journey of my life.

  To everyone else I’m sure I look like just another girl in a million others walking their way through the world like everyone else, only I don’t feel like that girl any more. I feel alive in ways I have never experienced before, ecstatically happy at the fresh possibility of true love with Jack and Logan, and genuinely accepted as myself, despite all of my idiosyncrasies, preoccupations and weird obsessions.

  I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up in case I’ve completely misread the situation, but I can’t help it. I know I’m not Sherlock Holmes either, but by the way those two men were looking at me on Friday, even Lionel Hutz would have declared they were hot for me, ticking, tapping, prime numbers and all of my other myriad peculiarities.

  I see the studios of Prometheus Productions looming in the distance like a gigantic secret science park only very important people get to work in, and wonder how I’ve managed to completely miss them before. To be honest, the collection of buildings look like anything but a film studio, and if I didn’t know they were, I wouldn’t have guessed it.

  The bus drops me off with a collection of other people, a few of whom seem to be headed the same way. I fall in behind them, close enough that it looks like we are together for someone looking from a distance, far enough away for the opposite effect up close. I distract my mind away from thinking about Jack’s powerful forearms by pretending I’m a spy working for a rival organisation about to break in, seduce the boss and steal the top secret manuscript.

  Forgetting momentarily about the restricted access in the place, I make a fool of myself by trying to push through the turnstile entry system as though the thing operates like the ones in banks, and give my wrist a painful twist when the metal bars don’t budge.

  “Card?” the security guard says to me without rising from his seat. If this were really a film, he’d be reading the sports section of the newspaper without feeling the need to look at me at all.

  “Sorry, I’m new”, I say. “I don’t have a card yet.”

  The security guard sighs as automatically as a cloud turns evaporated water into rain.

  “Which department?” he says, folding up his imaginary newspaper.

  “I’m not sure”, I say. “I’m going to be working with Jack.”

  He frowns. “Got a surname?”

  I resist the urge to give him mine, shaking my head instead.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  “Wait”, I say, suddenly remembering it. “I have the number of his secretary, Candy.”

  I dig around in my purse and hand it over to him. He scrutinizes it, deems it appropriate and reaches for his telephone. “Name?”

  “Penny Breen”, I say proudly.

  When Candy has been informed of my arrival, and the security guard seems satisfied enough, he opens the top drawer of his desk, fishes out what must be one of several temporary cards, and hands it over to me. “Sign and date”, he says. “Make sure you hand that back at the end of the day.”

  I sign and date the form, tap the card against the reader and smile at the grumpy security guard as I pass through the turnstile, the first mission of the day complete.

  I remember the way to Jack’s department as well as I might the way to the bathroom at home, which considering the size of this place isn’t something I know everyone has the capacity to do. I smile at people as I pass them, normal people wearing normal clothes, wearing normal smiles and going about their normal jobs, with their normal lives just as perfect as they want them. They look happy to be here and content with their lot, which is a world away from the glum depression I had to deal with from staff and customers alike at the comic book store.

  I tap my card like a seasoned professional, pass through corridors, turnstiles, gates and doors and eventually make my way to Jack’s department, while I pretend this might be Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory and I’m dancing my way through a montage scene. Candy smiles at me excitedly as she sees me arrive, before waving her arms like one of those huge inflatables outside car showrooms to call me over.

  I feel bad about thinking she might try and advance her career by sucking a hundred meters of cock, because even though she might choose to dress provocatively it doesn’t mean she’s okay with devaluing herself like that.

  “Hey, Penny”, she says.

  “Hey, Candy”, I say back.

  “Ready for your first day of work?”

  I nod enthusiastically. “Is Jack here?” I ask innocently.

  Candy gives me the same suspicious look she gave me last week at the interview, seeing straight through the reason for my question.

  “Jack’s always here”, she says plainly. “And you’ll be pleased to know he’s asked me to send you straight into him. I think he’s got some kind of specific project he wants
to get you to start working on straight away.”

  “Okay”, I say, trying as best as I can to hide my excitement.

  “Great!” Candy says, her professional requirement to be animated at all times outweighing her clear personal envy at the close proximity I’m going to be working with our sexy boss. “You can go straight through.”

  “Into his office?” I ask.

  “You remember where it is?”

  I remember the exact floorplan of a hostel in Maine we visited for summer vacation when I was five years old, of course I remember it. “Down here to the left, last office on the right?” I ask.

  “Bingo! I wish I had a memory like yours”, Candy enthuses.

  “Do I need to sign anything?” I ask.

  “We’ll do all that stuff later on. Go and get settled in”, Candy says, and then with an ambiguous tone. “I’m sure Jack will keep you busy for a while.”

  I smile, thank her for her assistance and make my way to Jack’s office. The department is mostly open plan with a handful of meeting rooms and offices, all of which have been finished in a modern, industrial architectural style. There are posters up, plants, huge windows to let in natural light, areas in which to get coffee and chill out and a workforce that look every bit as excited to be here as they would do in their own homes, kind enough to look up to me as I pass, to return the smile I give them.

  At Jack’s office, I pause briefly to compose myself, take a deep breath and knock as firmly as I dare on the thick wooden door.

  “Come in”, calls Jack’s inimitable voice from beyond, and it takes me immediately back to our first date and the rest of the weekend’s feverish endeavour to try and temper my overflowing libido.

  This is it, the beginning of a new stage in my life. A new job, hopefully a new relationship with not just one, but two people, a real chance at the kind of happiness that helps to keep my obsessions in check. I take another deep breath, focus on what’s important and then push the door open to the magic that lies beyond.