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"Evening Eve," Ethan announced as he set down his briefcase.
Eve jumped up ran into the arms of her shared lover, "Hey Baby, how was work?"
"It went well, especially lunch."
"Why? What happened at lunch?"
Ethan just smiled. "Since the others are gone, you don't mind if I steal Lydia away for a little bit, do you?" He finished the question off with a wink. "I want to tell her something."
"Sure," Eve smiled with just a hint of jealousy, "I'm sure she can't wait to hear those words from you. I'll watch dinner so it won't burn."
Ethan walked into the kitchen, the aroma of pork hitting him as he did. "Hi Lydia, do you have a second?"
Lydia turned and smiled immediately as she saw Ethan. "Dinner's almost done. Can it wait five minutes?"
"Eve said she'll finish it off," Ethan tapped his fingers on the doorjamb.
Lydia laughed, "Eve? Really?"
"Hey, I promise I won't let it burn," Eve squeezed by Ethan, making sure to rub her body against his and made her way to the stove.
"Okay," Lydia cackled. "Just keep flipping it and I'll be right back." She handed the spatula over to her companion.
When the two left the kitchen, Eve glanced at the meat in the pan. "If she's anything like me, she won't be right back." Making a quick decision, Eve simply turned off the burners. "There, now it won't burn," she said to no one as she went back to the living room.
*
Ethan walked down the hall with confidence.
Lydia was right behind him, her posture portraying her for what she was, a nervous wreck. Ethan had never had asked to speak with any of them alone and she was unsure what this could mean. She was the last one still in college and because of her; everything still had to be a secret. 'Am I now being rejected? Did the other girls conspire against me?' She always felt the situation was too good to be true, even if she had to share her dream man with three others.
Ethan stopped short of the master bedroom and gestured for her to go in first. As she did, he stepped right behind her and enveloped her lithe body in his arms, picking her up off the floor. Lydia squirmed and giggled, not really trying to get out of his grasp. Ethan spun her around, her still in his arms with only her toes scrapping the floor. He kissed her. After a few moments, Lydia's mouth opened slightly to begin another one of their sacred dances together.
Ethan pulled back and Lydia looked at him dreamily. "I love you Lydia."
Lydia blinked twice trying to come to grips with what was said. 'Am I dreaming this?'
Ethan stared at her but after two blinks Lydia appeared catatonic. "I love you Lydia," he repeated.
"Oh Ethan, I love you too," Lydia pushed her lips to his and instigated another waltz of passion.
As they kissed, Ethan began removing her clothing and Lydia did the same to him. Their mouths dictated tempo and they even started a slow swaying motion as if their bodies were dancing to music only they could hear. Their movements were bringing them around the room until Ethan's legs bumped the bed and they fell clumsily to the soft mattress. Lydia's blonde locks were splayed around her head as Ethan hovered above her. They exchanged smiles before he lowered his head to the flesh of her neck. His nibbles were gentle, his pecks soft, and his licks tender as he wandered deliberately southward. He was meticulous with her tits, paying them extra attention before engulfing her nipples in one smooth motion, his tongue flicking at the nubs while his teeth lightly grinded them.
Ethan continued his descent, going across her smooth stomach before coming upon his goal. He caressed the skin all around her opening with precise, delicate kisses. He stuck out his tongue and grazed her folds. With each touch, Lydia was letting her arousal be known with loud moans while her grip on the comforter was iron clad. Ethan moved up to her pearl and began to brush against it with his lips. His fingers moved in, first rubbing her inner thighs before slowly climbing. He put two fingers at her entrance and as he pressed forward, he suckled on her clit.
Lydia noisily moaned something intelligible.
Ethan knew he was on the right track as Lydia was by far the most vocal of the four. He never could understand her when she tried to use words, but the response was always positive. She truly let herself get lost in their lovemaking.
With a few more insertions of his fingers and his mouth teasing her nugget of pleasure, it didn't take long for Lydia to thunderously howl, her voice reverberating in the room as her legs clamped tight. Ethan kept going and Lydia shuttered again, only this time her noises sounded like begging when it finally subsided.
Ethan smiled and playfully lightly blew on her clit, causing an aftershock. He moved up her body slowly until they were face to face, him smiling and her trying to catch her breath. He positioned himself for the final symphony. He leaned in and kissed her as he slid into her awaiting quim. Both were easily accessible and wet with anticipation. He rocked gently into her as if his shaft was a violin bow as his tongue tickled the insides of her mouth as if he were playing the piano. They found a romantic rhythm as she offered a pushing movement with her hips as he thrust forward. Their tempo increased, finally causing their lips to break. Lydia's moans turned into grunts and Ethan was panting; their combined releases were imminent. She bucked one final time as he plunged as deep as he could. They climaxed together in a sweet crescendo of love, him groaning and her writhing and wailing underneath him.
Soon silence filled the room as they fell asleep spooned against each other, dinner as well as the rest of the world forgotten.
Ethan was cognizant when the other three joined Lydia and himself in the bed but was too tired to acknowledge it. Still, he felt proud he had only one left. He thought it would have been more difficult to get each of them alone so he could express his feelings to them individually.
*
Shelly sat across from her patient, a thirty-year-old male slightly overweight with his black hair in a part. A far cry from the Mohawk he was sporting just a day ago. Because of the extreme nature of the case, Dr. Manheim suggested daily meetings. The patient consented and this was now Shelly's third encounter with this man in as many days.
"So Stanley, what have you done since we last spoke yesterday afternoon? Shelly had her recorder ready and her notebook with her prior notes in front of her.
Shelly just couldn't understand it. Stanley Martin was the most baffling human being she had ever encountered. One day he was manic depressive and had an Oedipus complex. The next day he displayed signs of having multiple personalities while having an obsessive-compulsive disorder. After just ten minutes today, he was offering her the view of someone with an identity crisis. She then recalled a discussion on child psychology with Professor Carter during her sophomore year.
"In order to get attention, sometimes the child misbehaves. They feel it is the only way they are capable to get noticed. But adults do the same thing. Think about what you're wearing. Is it not to be noticed? We could come to school dressed like bums off the street but we don't. Designer jeans sure look better and we get noticed."
Perhaps Stanley Martin wants to be noticed? Shelly held up her hand, interrupting Stanley's babble about changing his appearance so people would like him. "Excuse me Mr. Martin, I know that this is highly irregular and unprofessional but would you mind if I use the restroom?"
"Sure, be my guest."
"I do apologize," Shelly stood. "I'll be just a few minutes."
Instead of the bathroom, Shelly marched into her superiors office. "Dr. Manheim, can I speak with you regarding Stanley Martin?"
Handel finished transcribing his last thought for his new book, 'The Fallen Mighty: Psychological Traps for Corporate Executives.' His writing endeavor is what propelled him to hire Shelly and two other recent graduates but the other two were already deemed completely useless and therefore let go. 'This should be interesting.' He sat upright, keeping a neutral expression to his face. "Yes Shelly, how can I help you?"
"I believe I understand the problem with Stanley Martin and I wanted your professional opinion."
"This is most certainly asymmetrical behavior for a psychiatrist, especially since you are in a session with him right now." The normal routine for his guinea pig, in this case Shelly, would be to tell the patient and then Stanley would report to him discreetly. They would then have a good laugh over the misdiagnosis.
Shelly lowered her head slightly at his words. 'Maybe I should have waited.' She took a deep breath, 'No, I know I'm right.' Her head shot up and her posture straightened. "He is diluted."
"Please explain your hypothesis." This was new. Handel was prepared to have a laugh, but that response surprised him. 'Is it possible this woman figured it out after two and a half sessions?'
"I feel he researched psychological disorders and is acting them out in front of me."
"And how did you come to this conclusion?" Handel put his elbows on his desk and moved his folded hands to his mouth in hopes to hide his faint smile.
"It was something my psychology professor once told me about how a child sometimes misbehaves to get attention. He said adults do the same thing but on a different level. In my professional opinion, that is what Stanley Martin is doing. He is wasting my time and his by coming here once a week, let alone once a day. He doesn't need a psychiatrist – he needs a friend."
"Actually, he needs to get paid." Handel smiled as he hit the intercom button to Shelly's office. "Stan, I have your check waiting for you." Shelly just stared at her boss, her face masked with confusion. "Stanley Martin is a paid actor I employed to test you. It is something I do from time to time." Handel stood and walked around his desk. "You broke the previous record of five sessions set by Dr. Reginauld Benoit to discover he was completely full of shit. I'm amazed you pulled it off in half that time Shelly. Sorry, it just occurred that I have been calling you by the wrong name ever since you arrived with us." He extended his hand toward Shelly. "Welcome to the wonderful world of psychiatry, Dr. Sheridan."
Shelly stood there, awestruck, though she still had the good sense to put her hand into Handel's, however tentative it was. 'Did I really do something in half the time as the world renowned Dr. Reginauld Benoit?'
"I must be losing my touch," Shelly broke out of her self-induced paralysis at the voice of Stanley Martin. "A little over two sessions... I'm kind of ashamed with myself."
"I'm sure it wasn't you, Stan," Handel chuckled. "Dr. Sheridan was valedictorian at State University. She has some intelligence on her side."
"I'll say," Stanley laughed back.
"Tell me Dr. Sheridan, what is the name of that professor you think so highly about?" Handel handed Stanley his check.
"Professor Ethan Carter."
"Hmm, never heard of him." Handel rubbed his chin, "Perhaps I should."
*
The Carrington's strode off their corporate jet into the awaiting limousine. Bruce handed Wilson a folded piece of paper, "This is where my daughter is located. Be expeditious. I don't want her to spend any more time in that uninhabitable dwelling than is necessary."
"Yes sir," Wilson, the big chauffer/bodyguard responded as he shut the door. He shook his head, doing his best to hold in a laugh as he made his way to the driver's side door. It amazed him how out of touch his boss was to anyone who belonged to a lower social class. He was proud that little Lydia didn't inherit those morals.
That latter statement was something every member of the Carrington staff would echo. Everyone loved Lydia, perhaps because they were all surrogate parents to the child, and they only wanted her to find happiness in life.
The limousine pulled up to the townhouse. The place showed no sign of life, which worried Wilson though he showed no sign of it as he opened the back door. Bruce stepped out and tugged on his lapels. "It appears as if we arrived." He offered his hand to his wife.
Marie accepted it and as she stepped out, she realized her foot landed in something. She checked her Italian pumps to note some gum on the bottom of her left shoe. "How can people live like this?" She wiped her high heel on the curb. "Disgusting."
"Let's collect our daughter and return to the hotel before we get infected with some rampant death causing disease."
The Carrington's marched to the front door. Bruce pulled out a blue handkerchief from his suit coat pocket to use as he pushed the doorbell.
"They all moved out over a month ago," the raspy voice of Mrs. White called out. "But if you're from Publishers Clearing House, I'll gladly take the ten million dollars off your hands."
"I have never been so insulted. I am not from some sweepstakes company," Bruce huffed. "I am here to pick up my daughter."
"Which one?" Mrs. White wondered which of those girls were loaded. She was shocked that any of them were, based on how they dressed. "The nerd, the slut, or the dyke?"
"I beg your pardon?" Marie's eyes went wide, curious now at how far her daughter may have fallen.
"Certainly you cannot mean our Lydia is any of those epithets." Bruce took a forceful step forward, his fists clenched at just the thought of what this batty old woman was implying.
"You're here for Lydia? That makes sense since I couldn't see you two as the parents of Kennedy, Shelly, or Eve." Mrs. White laughed, "No one with that name has lived here before and I've lived across the street for thirty years." Both Carrington's let out a sigh of relief, knowing their daughter didn't have any of those monikers. "But there was a girl that was helping them move. Does Lydia have blonde hair and stand about this tall?" Mrs. White held her hand off the ground just above her five-foot frame.
"So you've seen her?" Marie asked almost too quickly.
"Yeah, I've seen the ditz. She came over quite often to hang out with the other three. She also helped them move out along with the lecher."
Bruce's anger returned and he took another step closer to the old woman. "I don't know who you think you are but how dare you insult my daughter in my presence."
Mrs. White smiled as she pulled out a pistol that was tucked in the waistband of her track outfit. "I'm Mrs. White and if you take one more step I'll shoot you in the head in self-defense."
Bruce was halted by her words but he was also halted by the sizeable lump now residing in his underwear. Wilson was right there, however, and as Mrs. White went to aim the weapon at Bruce, he stood in between his boss and the old woman. "Ma'am, I have to ask you to lower your weapon. If I ask again, I cannot guarantee your health," his voice was deep and deterring.
"You're a big fucker, aren't you?" Mrs. White lowered her gun. "Snobby bastard should know not to go after helpless old ladies because we aren't so helpless."
Wilson gave a futile attempt to hide his smile at her words.
"Come on Dar-ling. I think we have taken up enough of Mrs. White's time." Marie hooked her husband's arm with hers and pulled him in the direction of the limousine. When Bruce's feet moved, the steps hastened.
Wilson shut the door and Bruce inhaled deeply, "The insolence of that barbarian. She'll be lucky if I don't sue her for everything she owns."
"But where could our Lydia be now?" Marie disregarded her husband's statement, more concerned for her daughter.
"I'm calling a private investigator, the same one we used to get that dirt on the president of the Bergeron Industries right before we took them over." Bruce flipped open his cell phone and scrolled through the contacts until he reached Charles Matthau.
"I don't care about the cost, just find our daughter."
"He will Boopsie, he will."
*
"Ethan!" Shelly shouted, the excitement evident in her voice, as she ran through the door. Her outburst alerted the entire household as Lydia came from the kitchen, Eve and Kennedy came from the laundry room and Ethan came running down the stairs having come from the bedroom. At seeing Ethan, Shelly jumped in his arms, "I did it!"
Ethan wrapped his arms around her, "Did what?" A smile adorned his face at the rare moment that Shelly was acting like an overly giddy schoolgirl.
"Dr. Manheim referred to me as Dr. Sheridan!"
"So you figured out Stanley Martin was full of shit."
Shelly broke the embrace, "How did you know that? Did Dr. Manheim call here?"
Ethan smirked, "Dr. Manheim may have mentioned some of his human experimentations at a convention I attended a few years back in New York." He put his hand to Shelly's cheek, "I'm proud of you Dr. Sheridan. I knew you could do it." He finished by kissing her.
Shelly blushed, "I'm going to take a shower."
As she ascended the stairs, Ethan looked over the other three girls, "We're going out." Their smiles told him he made the right decision. His philosophy was to celebrate any achievement his wives accomplished, no matter how major or minor it was, and the girls loved it.
Ethan listened for the shower to begin. The orchestrator of the events that led to the five of them coming together has waited long enough to hear the three most important words from him and he was prepared to heighten her already euphoric state. He slipped into the bathroom; the sound of the water spraying on Shelly's body coupled with her jovial humming masked his entrance. He stripped naked and slipped through the curtain. He put his hands to her hips and pulled her close.
"Ah!" Shelly squealed as she spun around and playfully slapped at Ethan's chest, "You scared me." Her smile betrayed the faux anger her voice was portraying.
Ethan leaned in and gave her a brief, tender kiss to her lips, "We're going out to celebrate tonight."
Shelly wrapped her arms around Ethan, purring as she rested her head on his chest. "So my news is good enough to get me a special night?" She turned back to the water and picked up her loofa. "I like that."
Ethan reached around and grabbed the 'lady sponge' as he called it. "Please, let me."
Shelly smiled. She glanced over her shoulder as she lifted her hair to give him access. Once again, her actions contradicted her words, "You don't have to. Besides, we should hurry if we're going out."
"Nonsense," Ethan began to coat her back with the lavender scented bubbles the soap was emitting. "It is my pleasure to bathe my beautiful wife on such a wonderful day. I love you."
Shelly stood frozen; almost doubting that she heard what was spoken. Ethan acted as if nothing happened. He loved the different reactions the girls gave him and Shelly being speechless was one he never thought he'd see. He meticulously kept wiping her back until there wasn't an untouched pore of skin. He enveloped her body and began painting her stomach with body wash. He leaned in to her ear, his manhood now pressing into her derriere. "You heard me correctly. I love you."
Shelly turned her head to meet his and kissed him. Ethan was certain those were tears being mashed into his cheeks and not the running water. As their mouths aggressively fought for dominance, Shelly's tongue lashed out against his taste buds while Ethan's sporadically lunged forward, attempting light caresses to everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Shelly was slowly getting in position. She spread her feet, inches at a time, until she had a wide base. She bent forward subtly until the kiss was broke. She smiled as she took a deep breath. "I love you too." In a flash, she bent the rest of the way forward, her torso horizontal to his. With one hand she braced the wall and with the other, she reached between her legs and grabbed the pole that was tantalizing her ass and put it directly in line with her channel.
