I couldn’t bear the thought and launched myself at Kristian, wrapping my body around his big one, peppering his face, his neck with kisses as Kato and Karl massaged my back, my bottom.
“I can’t bear it,” I gasped. “I can’t let you guys go.”
And Kato’s big hand stroked me slowly, the sensation comforting and electric at once, warm through my sweater.
“We’re not going anywhere,” he rumbled assuredly. “Like Kristian said, nothing’s changed … yet.”
And that just made me cry all the harder.
“But I don’t want anything to … to … change,” I hiccupped. “And I can feel that happening.”
Karl spoke up this time, his hand big and warm on my thigh as it crept upwards.
“Change is natural, change is good, baby,” he soothed. “It’s the human condition, and maybe we’ll all come out of it for the better, hmm?” he murmured, dropping a kiss on my shoulder.
Meanwhile, Kristian caught my face for a deep kiss, his powerful, thick tongue thrusting between my lips immediately, making me gasp, pant for more.
“Baby, I’ll always love you,” he said simply, his hands reaching for my breasts, tickling my nips before pulling them taut, making me moan and sigh, twist in his arms. “Nothing will ever come between us.”
And we threw ourselves into the fucking then, going at it full-force, taking no prisoners. I pulled my cunny lips apart for them, showing them everything I had, my vibrating clit, my little asshole, the cream that spilled from between my legs, and I let them take me, one at a time, three at once, opening every orifice for them, hungry, begging for their cum.
“Please,” I moaned as Kato slid into my ass with his dong, straining, vibrating, my little body the ultimate receptacle. “Harder, deeper.”
And the big man just grunted, reaching down to pull my hips a little higher, get further in.
“Ride my dick baby,” he ground out, face tight as his penis strained, balls ready to shoot. “Ride it good.”
And I squealed, I squirmed, as I humped his rod, banging my pelvis up and down as Kristian stroked my clit, massaging the little nub, and Karl teased my breasts, pulling each nip tight.
“Ohhh!” I moaned, coming hard, “oh oh oh!”
And the men groaned as well, each one exploding with pleasure as I milked them, my hands busy as my pussy and ass clenched, doing the work of three women at once.
But there was a frenetic note about our love-making, a certain desperation had invaded the atmosphere, my movements rushed, my body desperate to take them everywhere, remember them, imprint them on my mind. Because something told me we didn’t have much longer … and in fact that might be the last time I tasted the three men together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Tina
Two months later …
“Violet,” I said tiredly. “Why did you ask me here?”
We were sitting at the same café we’d originally met at, Café le Fleur on the outskirts of the City. Violet had been released, Kristian hadn’t been serious about the charge of treason. Besides, he’d found out that she was his biological mom, throwing things into a tizzy because who puts their own mother in jail?
But that was months ago and I took a deep breath. The breeze ruffled my hair as I looked over the small plaza, appreciating the view. St. Venetia was such a beautiful city, the scent of the Mediterranean tickling my nostrils, the distant glimmer of the palace spires visible at midday. I loved it here, absolutely loved it, but maybe my future lay elsewhere. Maybe the men had been right, and I’d just been dreaming, living in la-la land, and there was actually nothing for me in this place anymore.
Violet looked penitent, and lobbed a gentle opening salvo.
“How are you, Tina?” she asked. “How is your family?”
I snorted. How was I? How about mixed up, confused, and heartbroken all at once, barely able to sleep, hot tears streaking down my cheeks at night? How about all alone in the apartment where I’d once had three lovers, three gorgeous, amazing men who were gone now, scattered to the four winds? How about the fact that my parents wouldn’t even speak to me? Because I’d been their last option and now that was vanished too, their hopes dashed, bankruptcy looming.
But Violet didn’t know any of that, nor did I intend to tell her.
“Things are okay,” I said deceptively. “Not much to report.”
Violet let out a soft sigh at that.
“I know there’s a lot going on,” she said, “you don’t have to lie to me.”
I turned on her, my eyes harsh.
“Don’t even get me started,” I ground out.
Violet drew back, her look stricken.
“Please don’t take this out on me,” she said quietly. “Please understand, I didn’t want this to happen.”
I paused for a moment.
“You gave up one son and isolated two others,” I said slowly. “You were a terrible mother, keeping Kato and Karl away from their father, even when he tried to get in touch. What does that say about you? Even if you hated Georg, what he’d done to you personally, what about the damage to your boys?”
And Violet’s eyes pleaded with me.
“I know you think that I did the wrong thing, but you have to understand, I had no choice,” she said slowly, eyes shining with tears. “I had no choice! They’d taken one baby from me and I was afraid they’d take the other two as well.”
I paused for a moment. She had a point there. If I were a young girl going up against a powerful, wealthy family, I too would think twice.
“But what about Georg’s efforts to reach his sons? The phone calls, the letters? What about that?” I demanded.
She just sighed, shaking her head.
“He’d already made clear that he was a pawn of the throne, tossed about by forces he couldn’t control. What if his efforts to get in touch were part of some evil scheme to steal my boys away from me? Maybe the Venetians wanted to influence Kato and Karl, make them hate me somehow, turn their backs on their own mother. I did what I thought was best, please understand,” she pleaded, her voice strained.
And again, I could see why Violet chose this course of action. Even though she hadn’t been through a divorce, she’d been betrayed twice by the same man, her heart broken, running off with what little she had. If I were in her shoes, I’d do whatever I could to protect my remaining children as well.
“But Violet, what about what Georg said, all that stuff about the ‘blood royal’?” I added, more gently this time. “You told your sons that the King rejected them because they were commoners, when you knew that wasn’t true. So in fact, you were trying to turn the boys against their father,” I pressed.
And here, her face fell.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said slowly. “That I wove a web of lies, that I lived a web of lies for thirty years, creating ill will, lying to my sons, doing anything and everything to get ahead. But the fact is,” she said, taking a deep breath, “things aren’t that straightforward. I wasn’t thinking clearly at some points, yes,” she acknowledged, “but until you’ve been in the shoes of a heartbroken woman, you’ll never know,” she said sadly.
And I was still incensed, sure, but I could feel the bubbling anger starting to calm to a simmer, some of the tension releasing. Because I knew what it was to have a broken heart. Since the events of the gala, our foursome had dispersed as I’d predicted, with Kato, Karl and Kristian going their separate ways. Kristian had disappeared on some “royal business” which could have been anything, I hadn’t seen him in weeks now. And Kato and Karl? Who knew where they were? The two men, despite their predictions, had immediately been scooped up by a military contractor and had probably been sent to Afghanistan or Syria, raging war zones both. My heart broke again thinking of them, putting their lives in the line of fire each day, the risk of death immense, if not certain.
So I was no stranger to heartbreak, no stranger to dreams shattered, hopes dashed, my image of the future
irrevocably gone. Instead, I only had myself now, living in a small apartment by the river, the interior shabby. I was sleeping in a small twin bed I’d bought recently, unable to face the king-size one I’d once shared with my lovers, the sheets sticky and wet from our constant loving. So I lay in my narrow bed night after night, my thoughts spiraling out of control, the pain almost killing me, wishing that I wouldn’t wake up some mornings.
But inevitably, I pulled myself up at the ring of the alarm, listlessly getting dressed and eating breakfast before heading off to my job at the non-profit. Because it was the only thing that kept me going now, working with the Roma. My clients, these hardworking people who had nothing, who’d staked their dreams on small business, were all that I had. And I admired them, I always had, their dedication in the face of adversity, in the face of incredible discrimination, pre-conceived notions of what it meant to be Roma. And some of my clients were doing well, rehabilitating their credit scores, building esteemed community reputations, their businesses thriving, their networks growing. It was the only thing that kept me going now, and I made myself go in each day, my work kept the blood running through my veins, the air pumping through my lungs, no matter how despairing I felt.
But Violet’s voice interrupted me again.
“Please Tina,” the older woman in a low voice. “Don’t give up on them.”
My head snapped back to look at her, my look piercing, glaring.
“Don’t give me any crap about giving up,” I cut out sharply. “I’m not the one who left. Karl, Kato and Kristian are the ones who took off.”
Violet nodded. She knew her sons were gone, dispersed to the four corners of the earth.
“I know, you’re still here and they aren’t,” she said. “But one thing I’ve learned is patience. You’ve got to wait, to give them time to process things. I think that’s what I regret the most in life,” she said slowly, reflectively, “because I’ve never had much of an ‘inner voice’ telling me to slow down and think first, you know?” she said gently. “Instead I ran off, blocked every communication from Georg, rebuffed every attempt by him to get in touch with his sons. And I regret being so impulsive, I really do. I wished I’d been more open, maybe waited a while longer before making big decisions.”
I sighed, shaking my head. This woman would never get it.
“Violet, you’re crazy,” I said harshly. “Because I’m the one who’s still here, your sons are ones who’ve run off, haven’t you noticed? I’m waiting, I’m still here in St. Venetia. They’re the ghosts.”
But Violet just tilted her head and looked at me carefully.
“No, honey,” she said. “You’re not waiting. You’re here physically, yes, but emotionally, you’re drawing away, pulling away further with each day. You’re shutting the door slowly, inch by inch, without giving my sons time to process things, to come back to you as whole men.”
And I just snorted then.
“You called me a slut at the Palace,” I lashed out. “You don’t get to tell me anything!”
The comment was childish, neither here nor there, a release of my rage, my sorrow, on an undeserving victim. But the older woman accepted the verbal beating, nodding knowingly.
“I’ve screwed up a lot,” she said softly, “I know I called you names that I never should have, that I belittled you for loving my sons, but I’m trying to make up for that now,” she said. “I was in a bad place during the gala, you have to understand, but all I want is for my boys to be happy. Please consider it Tina, listen to my words.”
I paused, but my anger was like a dense fog surrounding my head, impenetrable, murky, making it impossible to see straight, to look objectively at the situation. After all, I was desperately unhappy, lonely, my body and soul aching for a relationship that no longer existed, which maybe had never existed except in my heart. So I stood up, turning away resolutely, not meeting her eyes.
“Good-bye Violet,” I said stiffly. “If you see Karl, Kato or Kristian, please tell them hello for me.”
And I strode out of the cafe, shoulders rigid, not looking back. Because who knew where the future led? Certainly not I.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Tina
“Mrs. Agnello, it’s wonderful to see you again,” I said to the old lady who let herself into my office. “Please take a seat.”
I smiled warmly at the woman dressed in a floral housedress, a scarf pulled over her greying hair. I’d always liked her despite the fact that we were having some trouble getting her childcare business re-opened.
Because St. Venetia allows people to open childcare businesses in their homes so long as the providers are licensed and the business registered with the state. Mrs. Agnello had been running one in her home, only to be shut down when two parents got into a fistfight on her doorstep, calling 911 and leading to the discovery that she was an unlicensed provider. Who knew what the fight was about? Just kid-crazy parents again, determined to help their child get ahead no matter the cost. But regardless, my client had been forced to shut her doors that very day, her income drying up, she and her disabled husband living off a small emergency loan provided by Roma Outreach.
“Don’t be sorry, love,” she huffed as she seated herself, her plump form warm and motherly. I could see why parents trusted her with their children immediately. “Licenses, schmicenses, I’ll get what I need in good time,” she said with a smile.
I nodded encouragingly, but my heart sank. The licensing process was relatively simple, so long as you were literate. It consisted of fifty multiple choice questions administered on-line, and the questions were pretty straightforward, concerning the basics of child health, safety, and environmental awareness.
But Mrs. Agnello couldn’t read, had dropped out of school in third grade and could barely decipher street signs, much less a multiple-choice test. And so she’d failed the quiz three times already, with little hope of passing in the near future.
“Have you been going to your language classes?” I asked gently. I was hoping that with adult-learner language classes, she’d improve quickly and we’d be that much closer to re-opening her childcare operation.
“Oh yes!” she chortled. “Every day. And honey, can you help me apply for food stamps again this month? My allotment ran out, and you know Mr. Agnello and me, we depend on them.”
I nodded. It’s part of my job at Roma Outreach to assist with access to government services. Even though our focus is microfinance, the non-profit sector is complex and varied, and we often find ourselves going above and beyond our core competencies, advising on workforce development, immigration status, any number of things that might help our clients succeed not in just business, but in life.
“Of course,” I nodded, “no problem. Let’s just talk about the childcare licensing for a second though,” I said busily, riffling around on my desk, looking distractedly around for the proper paperwork.
But Mrs. Agnello’s hand descended on mine, stilling the nervous activity.
“What about you?” she asked. “What about your coming baby? Tell me about that first.”
And I flushed because I hadn’t told anyone, purposefully wearing loose clothes, hiding the tiny bend of my stomach that pooched just a bit.
“How do you know?” I said nervously. “What are you talking about?” I asked belatedly.
But Mrs. Agnello’s eyes merely twinkled at me.
“Honey, I’m gypsy, we have a way with these things. I could tell as soon as I came in, you have a new mother’s glow,” she said encouragingly. “Tell me, are you happy?”
I considered talking around the truth, making up something PC and fake, putting a smile on my face. This was work after all, no place to reveal my emotions unnecessarily. But before I could say anything, Mrs. Agnello smiled again and said, “I have four children, all grown now but the light of my lives still. A baby is a blessing, isn’t it?”
And before I could stop myself, the tears came pouring out and I started babbling my entire story.
About Kristian, Karl and Kato, their relation to the King, how the monarchy could be unraveling at this very moment, how they had left me alone and pregnant. And I blubbered, I cried, I wailed, my sobs making my shoulders heave, my broken heart unburdening itself even as my baby’s heart beat steadily below.
And Mrs. Agnello listened quietly, clucking at the right moments, handing me a handkerchief to stanch the flow of tears, non-judgmental and kind.
“Now that doesn’t sound so bad, does it?” she asked after I was done, trying to mop up the mess I’d made, my tear-stained cheeks, the runny nose.
“No-not so bad?” I said wryly through my hiccups and sniffing, the Kleenex balled in my fist now. “I don’t know how it could be worse.”
And the older woman chuckled, her face rosy.
“Miss Tina,” she said with a smile, “You are a young woman with a baby on the way. It’s a time of beginnings, not ends.”
“But Mrs. Agnello, there’s no father for my child. Isn’t that crazy? It could be one of three men, and yet none of them are anywhere to be found. Two are probably in war zones and the other has disappeared in a poof, behind a shield of royal secrecy. How could things be worse?” I said in a broken voice.
Mrs. Agnello paused for a moment.
“Gypsies have been in Europe for two thousand years now,” she said slowly, ruminating, “and we still don’t understand the European way of thought. A healthy baby is a healthy baby, hands down, no questions asked.”
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