Thursday, July 6, 2023
Examining the benefits plan of this friendship . . .
Monday, May 15, 2023
Musing # 563 – All Hail the Earl (part 1)
8:05 am the night before King Charles’ Coronation
If someone had
told me that I would be staying in a tent at St. James’s Park waiting in the
tent for King’s gold carriage to pass and Camilia can wave at no one in
particular, I would have shot them.
Right now, I just want to shoot myself.
No, I think I’d shoot Angus first.
My husband, the 12th
Earl of Glamorgan, distinguished MP in the Welsh Senedd, venture capitalist,
and one of the richest men in the world you'd never heard of, with the face and
body from the cover of your last bodice ripper, chose to enjoy the making of
history from a park full of strangers instead at one of the 15 different Coronation
galas available to the well-heeled of all types. Don’t get me wrong, I hate those things too
but at least there I could find someplace quiet and one thousand fewer Legos in
the grass.
“Da?” called my
son David as he dragged his tired body up my leg. Kneeling, he plopped his cheek against my
thigh. “Da? I’m sleepy.
Will you put me to bed? I don’t
think I’ll need a story. We have to be
up anyway to see Uncle Chuckles.” My
five-year-old rocked his tiny body against me as a bit of extra encouragement.
I smiled at this
boy who was the spitting image of Angus.
I ran my fingers through his mop of big auburn curls, his baby brown
eyelashes flittered like the best silent film actress. “Sure, Reb,” I replied as I pulled him over
my shoulder and stood, "although I'm still down for the book if you
are."
“No, I'm really
tired," he said shaking his head against my neck. The family started calling him Reb (short for
Rabbi) after he ascended the synagogue platform during my sermon, pulled on my
pants leg, and said, “Da, I’m going to help you be a good rabbi.” The congregation erupted in laughter, much to
the boy's puzzlement, and the nickname stuck ever since.
The children’s
tent was only a few feet away and David entered it on his own after forgetting
his neediness. I peaked inside and took
stock of what the adults in the family jokingly called “the Glamorgan Progeny”,
nine children of various shades, races, and origins – a mixed multitude of ages
5 to 17 – trying to figure out sleeping bag arrangements. I said
nothing, just watched and grinned. Their
playful tussling and jabbing at one another ended up in a big pile in the
centre of the tent all facing the holographic TV – Harry Potter always wins
out. I put a few water bottles and a
couple of bags of crisps inside the flap and said, “Sleep tight! And don’t say up late as the King arrives
promptly at 10:02 am and expects our attendance!” I heard scampering so I assumed they at least
knew I’d been there.
We had a total of
6 tents directly in front of the steel temporary guardrails, ample tent space
for each of the couples and our throuple along with space for supplies. Angus was smart enough to plan for the
hostility we could have experienced. The
180-year-old family business, Reese Industries brought ribs and sausages that
Angus BBQed for everyone parked there awaiting a glimpse of history. That, some free merch, and two cans each of
IPA paid for a great deal of goodwill.
Standing again, I
noted the cold drizzle and pulled my jersey's hoodie over my head. All around people had also noted the
increased rainfall and were packing up for the night, even though it was only 9
pm. I looked for Angus and caught sight
of him passing out 2-person pop-up tents and sleeping bags to those he saw
needed them. Toni was helping with extra
small toys and figit spinners for the small children. By the time they were done, the park looked
like a homeless encampment. But it was
going to be peaceful and likely quiet all night in most of those tents. Reese Industries has a chain of marijuana
dispensaries across America and growers were always sending him “samples”
somehow. Now I saw him pass a few bags
of gummies to folx I think he assumed would appreciate them, like the elderly
couple who met at the Queen's Coronation.
Loosen the joints with Prosecco and maybe they could bring back some of
that old magic.
Which gave me
ideas . . .
I needed to prep
the scene. I stopped at the tent of
provisions and grabbed a couple of packs of pretzels, some crisps, two bottles
of sparkling water, grapefruit juice, and three plastic cups. The pretzels were for Angus, his favourite
snack, only these were handmade by me.
And they were infused . . .
I thought I had a bandana around
to stuff in someone's mouth as a last or first resort.
I stumbled into
our tent, managing not to drop the items I carried. Toni sat in the middle of the king-size air
mattress pressed against a cushy seat back built into the mattress itself. She was engaging in her favourite hobby –
sewing – by bedazzling our daughter Sarah’s costume for the school's
end-of-the-year play. My wife, Toni, was
beautiful, like a 1970s Pam Grier, only with should-length dreads. She looked up at me and smiled. She was once my best friend. How we got here, a polyamory relationship
with my husband, is a complicated story. And looking at those light brown eyes refocused
me. “I’m almost done,” she said. “Ugh, it’s
barely 8:30 pm! Maybe we can catch a
quick movie or something before we go to bed." She finished a bangle and examined her
work. Satisfied, she dropped the fabric
in a wicker basket and plied the rest of her tools atop. "I know we have to be up before 10 am
but I can’t see myself falling asleep just yet.”
Neither did
I. “Angus is right behind me.”
“Cool,” her
American accent so lovely drifting into my ears. “I’m thinking we should stay an extra
day. Everyone’s kiddos have Monday
off. We bring them to London so
infrequently . . . well, they should at
least get to a museum or two, don’t you think?”
“Uh-huh,” I
replied while handing her a thermos.
She looked at me
queerly but Angus came in and distracted her.
“Done saving the park?”
Dishevelled and
breathing heavily, "Right, well I think everyone is settled for the night.” Angus held out his few remaining bags of
gummies. “Or about to be, I’d say.” He opened a bag and popped two in his
mouth. I handed him his thermos. “Cheers, Mate!” he said before opening it,
sniffing it, and taking a big gulp with a satisfied expression. “Wow, you’re seriously getting good with the
mocktails. This is refreshing as all get
out!” He stopped drinking when Toni got
pregnant, at first to support her absence and it became a habit.
“Right, well, I
was thinking . . . “was all I got out before Toni interrupted.
“Ah, well, ah, . .
. “she started, “maybe this is a good time to . . . to talk.”
Angus is not fond
of clothes. So, he removed his pants,
pulled his tee-shirt over his head, and dropped the items on the floor. You see he missed those prep school classes
on cleaning up after yourself. I
retrieved them like a good co-dependent – I am the son of a valet after
all. But that's complicated and part of
another story. Angus nonchalantly stood
in front of the bed, scratching his horse-size balls, and asked, “Okayyyy, I'm
all ears, I guess." He climbed into
the bed and plopped down to Toni's left.
And this is Britain’s elite?
Toni didn't
continue immediately but seemed to be waiting for me to sit down as well. I shrugged, thinking my opportunity for some
noogie had passed me by. I got into bed too but on her right. I sensed her tension as if she wasn't certain
how we were going to feel about her news.
I wondered if I should have brought more marijuana-infused stuff. Was she going to break things off? The sex and the pregnancy were unexpected on
our part. But she wanted the babies and
said that she'd give it until our kiddos were ready for regular school before
deciding if she would stay. We still
played around together, making it a rule that if there was going to be intimacy
of any kind, we'd all have to be together.
This was difficult to coordinate at first – there were many hurt
feelings and wasted sperm in the shower.
But COVID changed things and helping the locals and our servants survive
and thrive during the height of the pandemic, became our priority. Soon we had projects to avoid many of the
woes of lockdown and found the entire household, particularly us as Angus is head
of the house, worked together, nearly always drama-free – Toni, who is a
psychologist, wouldn’t have it. And we
shared a lot – from tremendous joy to debilitating devastation. I'd thought sharing all of that and
co-parenting had solidified our intimacy.
Many polyfamilies stayed together supportive by a whole lot less. But maybe I was wrong.
"Stop looking
so serious!" quipped Toni.
"It's not bad, just, life-changing, I guess."
Angus lay flat on
his back, staring at the small built-in LED lights across the tent roof. Toni had them twinkling. “Spit it out woman!” he grumbled.
She frowned at him
then looked at me and lost her nerve.
But she inhaled deeply then let out in one exhale, “I’m pregnant. But just one baby this time, Dr. Randolph
double-checked.” Angus said nothing and
moved very little. His eyes were closed
and his breaths were very shallow. Toni
looked at him, slightly unnerved by his calmness. “You’re not excited?” she asked him.
“Not yet,” he said
turning on his side toward her. “You
know what I want and if you are still unwilling, I think we should start making
other arrangements. You came here
initially just to tell us, not sure if you wanted us involved, if my memory
serves me.” Toni nodded, tears
forming. “Right, and the only reason
you're still here is COVID. COVID is
over. Please don't drag this on any
longer. It will be hard enough to accept
that I may only see my current two children a few times a year, and I will have
very little relationship with a third. I
have always felt you would leave us considering the number of times you have
complained about how backward Wales is and Britain’s systemic racism.” Toni was disgusted with the concept of the
Commonwealth, the Crown, and British history which clashed with my Earl’s pride. A nasty argument had me sleeping alone for several
weeks.
Angus rolled back
onto his back. I knew he was going to
start crying too. They didn't hate one
another. But they are two alphas, and
despite a quite equitable division of labour at Morganwg, they argued over
every decision even when they didn't disagree.
Once in a while, you’d see one of them trying to hide a grin.
I started to reach
over to him, but Toni stopped me when she replied, “Shut up silly! Of course, I’ll marry you two. It was just the pandemic; I mean who’s coming
to any kind of wedding during a pandemic?”
She sighed then crawled atop Angus.
She just had to add a bit of control by pressing down on his hands. “Yes, Angus Mc Innes-Reese, I will marry you
and your husband.” She looked over at me
and gave me a big smile. She touched a
piece of jewellery from her neck and then took it off. It was her engagement ring – his mother's
ring – and she put it on her finger.
Admiring the sparkling diamonds surrounding a blue Saffire, she said,
"I guess we've been doing this a long time anyway. I know we bicker but, Angus you have to know
how I feel about you and Deetz."
Angus sat up on
his elbows, his hazel eyes sharp and commanding. “It has never been about love, you have to
know that by now.” He reached behind him
to adjust the back section. He returned
to her, “I know I was less than thrilled when you came to us pregnant with the
twins. I thought you were a gold digger
– there have been enough of those, especially once Deetz and I got
married." He took her hand, and
looked at the fingers, kissing each one in obligation. “I did not expect this but then again, I
didn’t expect him.”
“Pardon me,” I
interrupted, “all this warm and fuzzy is quite fine but,” I pointed at my
hardening cock, “this fellow has something to say as well, and he is quite
urgent.” I grinned at my assertiveness,
particularly considering my typical submissive stance within our
relationship. I often feel like the
secret story of our lives being driven by the constant jive for power between
those two. Me? I’m a simpler creature. A few good orgasms and a bit of a cuddle and
this queen is just fine. These two were
the ones with standards. I rested
my body on my right elbow and rested my head in my hand. The fingers of my left tranced long, light
caresses between Toni’s bent knee and the top of her thigh. “You already know how I feel. And you being pregnant is got to the very
best." I rolled over slightly and
pressed a chastised kiss on her arm.
"And right now, I feel deeply honoured to be the father of your
children."
“Me too!” added
Angus.
Toni looked
between both of us, tears of relief falling steadily. "I still don't understand how this poly
thing is legal. I mean you two are
already married."
Angus started mimicking
my touches. Once our timing began to synchronize,
Toni’s body started to hum, vibrating against my fingers. “We’re rich.
Money buys the way with just about everything except a happy home,
equity, nor a healthy climate for all.”
He pressed his lips against the top of her shoulder. Through a long groan, he finished, “The
attorneys have a legal plan that makes this throuple more ironclad than any Hollywood
pre-nup. A druid ceremony held in the
Celtic Hills in the traditional ways will be honoured throughout Cyrumu and
other aboriginal cultures throughout the Commonwealth.”
"Right, we'll
have plenty of time for all of that later, won't we?" I pulled myself up and pushed her back seat
down so she lay below me.
Big natural lashes
fanned warm brown eyes. “I’m sure,” Toni
said. She took his hand and grinned at
him. “You didn’t ask how many months I
was!”
Angus beamed, “How
many months?”
It roared and lightning
flashed outside our cozy magic world, reminding me of the other momentous
occasion happening around us. A few kids
and a security team walk past the obtuse front flap mesh. “Are you sure no one can see threw this
screen?” I asked him.
“Of course. I tested its effectiveness personally.”
“I’m 25 months.”
“With whom?” I
recoiled at the possibility of infidelity better than any silent-era actress.
Angus frowned at
my over-overreacting. “With myself and a
camera - and the AI it says it feels no
attraction toward humans."
“I’m 25 months,
damnit!” Toni cackled. We shut up and
she sighed, “You two are such children sometimes! I’m 3 months.” She grinned and rubbed her belly.
I smiled sheepishly,
accepting responsibility for my foolishness.
Another flash then a wave of heavy, cold rain. I shivered slightly and pulled the warming
blanket further up on my chest. I pulled
my body close to her so that I could inhale her perfume shamelessly. Lightening shot through my body as my cock skin on her thigh. "My love,” I said in a low groan as my left
hand began massaging her belly from underneath the covers, “you’ve got the kind
of skin that makes shea butter covertness.”
While firmly
kneading Toni’s soft belly while I watch the changes in her expression in
favour of each tension or lightness.
Suddenly, she arched her back and let out a loud gasp. Angus had his fingers between her legs. He and I locked eyes, simultaneously
acknowledging the need for further sound reduction. "Spotify. Playlist #823 with buffer." The mini speakers sowed in the tent pools
ensured that the only sound your neighbours heard from your spot will be
Chopin's Nortune quietly drifting up and away within the next breeze,
according to the manufacturer seeking investment from Reese Capital. It’s no wonder we stay rich – people keep
giving us shit we don’t have to spend our own money.
"Stop
thinking, you!" Angus demands.
"I swear you'd live in that head of yours if I didn't plough that
ass regularly!”
“As you wish, your
Grace.” I gave him a deferential nod then
got the handcuffs and the ballgag from the duffle.
END OF PART I
Friday, November 25, 2022
What kind of boundaries do you see?. Function/Purpose Keeping People IN Keeping People OUT Mark limits of jurisdiction – symbol of SOVEREIGNTY Promotes. - ppt download
Thursday, September 8, 2022
OFFICIAL PRESS RELEASE FROM REESE INDUSTRIES AND the REESE FAMILY FOUNDATON
The Mac Innes-Reese family, the staff of the Glamorgan Estates, the employees of the Reese Foundation and Reese Industries are deeply saddened by the loss of our Queen. Yehi zichra Baruch (May her memory be for a blessing). Our hearts go out to her family and our Commonwealth. Her love and care for our family can never be repaid and she wouldn’t have taken payment anyway! Good-bye old friend – how will we do this without you?
Tuesday, July 26, 2022
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