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

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?

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