Chapter XVI

While they were sitting out on the porch, George started having second thoughts again. He was sitting in one of the rockers, with his feet up on the crossbar, and suddenly sat forward, and planted both feet on the floor. He stood up and turning, said over his shoulder, “I gotta got to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” He went through the front door and down the hallway.

After he left, Isolde said to Terry, “I think he is having some approach-avoidance issues with this whole situation.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is. I would be too, were I in his position.”

“But you’re not,” she replied. “Actually, the position you are in is one where I can see right up the leg of your shorts. And it looks like there’s an eye in there, looking back at me. Do you think it would mind, if I poked my finger in it?”

Terry grinned, and spread his legs a little, so that the leg of his shorts shorts opened up even more. He was starting to become turgid, thinking about how Isolde’s touch would feel at the opening of his enlarging cock. I solde set her glass of wine down on the floor, and got up. She crossed over the porch to where Terry was sitting on the swing. “Move over, Big Boy,” she said, huskily and sat down on the swing next to him. She put her right hand around Terry’s neck, and pulled his face toward hers. With her left hand, she reached up the leg of his shorts, and firmly grasped his hardening member. “Kiss me, you Fool,” she said, qouting the movie.

George came back out onto the porch, to see Terry and Isolde kissing. Her hand was up the leg of his shorts, and he had a very obvious erection. George spoke then, saying, “Look. I really am not ready to play three in a bed just yet. And it looks like you two are interested in more than just sleeping right now. Why don’t you go on up, and tomorrow we’ll talk about possibly sleeping together.”

Isolde and Terry stood up, and Isolde crossed over to George. “I’m sorry Honey. I can’t stop this, but I do love you. I think I love both of you. Can you understand that?”

“Intellectually, yes,” George replied. “I think that the more people love, the more they CAN love, but I am having trouble with my emotional self. So you too go ahead. I’ll be all right.”

Terry, who had been standing silently, walked over to where Isolde and George were standing. He reached down with his right hand, and took Isolde’s hand in his. With his left hand, he took George’s hand, and said “Look, George. I like you – a lot – maybe even more than that. Believe it or not, it hurts me that I am hurting you. And it hurts me that by coming into your lives,even though I love Miss Isolde here; in a way, I am hurting her, too. Just say the word, and I am gone.”

George felt a lump in his throat, but swallowed it and said, “No, I’d miss you too if you left now. Maybe not the same way Isolde would, but in my own way, just as much. I know this sounds crazy, but I think I’m beginning to love you. Now, as I said before, you too go on up to bed, and love each other. I’ll be OK.”

Isolde disengaged her hand, and wrapped her arms around George. She kissed him, then said, “Every day, I love you more, George. Goodnight Sweetheart.”

George hugged both of them, and patted the center of Terry’s back. “Goodnight you guys. See you in the morning.”

After Terry and Isolde went up the sstairs, George poured the last of the wine into his glass, and picked Isolde’s book up off the living room table. He took it back out onto the porch, and sat down on the swing. Opening it to page one, he began reading.

After about half an hour, he closed the book, drained the last of the wine from his glass, and went indoors. Putting the book back on the table, he went into the kitchen, and washed all the dishes from the evening’s meal. Then he turned off the light, and went up to bed.

The last glass of wine had an effect on him, and he fell asleep almost immediately, but it was fitfull, and he had lots of dreams.

About an hour later, George woke up pissed. Not at Terry and Isolde, even though they were in bed together and it was his turn to be alone, but at life in general. He had been dreaming about when he was back in college, and talking with some friends over coffee, about where they would be ten years from then. Everyone agreed that with their education, they would be employed in comfortable jobs, and living the good life. He supposed some of them were, but he hadn’t seen any of it.

So he thought, here I am, working my fingers to the bone, twisting wrenches, and driving a clapped-out VW convertible.

Oh, I like the car well enough, but, Geez! I sure do get tired of it breaking all the time. It would be nice to have a job making enough money to be able to take off now and again. I haven’t head a vacation since I finished school and started work. I thought I’d be on a salary somewhere, with a couple of weeks vacation every year, but I guess things just don’t turn out the way you envision. And who would have thought, just when Isolde and I were settling in, and getting used to the idea of living a life together, she'd fall for a guy like Terry. I wonder if she ever filed those divorce papers I saw sitting out on her desk six months ago? It’s funny – I more than like Terry. I thnk maybe , in some way on some level I do love him, though. And maybe she is right - we can live together as a family, and if the band is making money, then maybe I can stop working on cars. That would be nice. Just once, I'd like to see my fingernails without all that grunge in the corners. I wonder what Isolde woud do - or Terry - if I just barged in and climbed into bed with them? Well – I heard or read – probably in one of Isolde’s self-help books – “you should do something scarey every day." So he got out of bed, and walked across the floor in his bare feet, and opened the door.

Isolde and Terry were sitting up with the pillows behind them against the headboard, basking in the afterglow.

"I wish...." Isolde started to say, but stopped in mid sentence.

"What?"

"Oh, I dunno - I sometimes feel so greedy ... no, not greedy ... more like guilty ... having my pick of you two, but leaving whomever I don't sleep with out in the cold, so to speak."

"So why don't you ask George to join us? For sleeping, I mean," he added almost too quickly.

"Do you think he would do that?" she asked.

"Well - there's only one way to find out. But I have an idea - 'Spose I go see if he's awake - If I ask him, and tell him you'd like that too, then he won't feel like he's intruding on us." Terry suggested.

“Well, I don’t know…” Isolde started to say, but by then Terry was already opening the door.

He met George coming down the hallway, and there was an awkward moment of silence before Terry said, “After you get done in the bathroom, why don’t you grab the top sheet off your bed, and come on up to the big house.” And then he grinned.

George, caught by surprise, had been all prepared to tell Terry just what he had been thinking, but was completely taken off guard by this. He stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he tried to cover it up, by turning the last opening into a yawn.

“OK” was all he said. He padded down the hall into the bathroom and closed the door.

Terry turned around, and went back into the bedroom, where he found Isolde sitting up, looking at him quizically.

“I take it, you met him in the hall? she asked, her mouth showing just the slightest of smiles.

“Yeah. I think he was headed to the bathroom.” Terry replied.

I don’t, Isolde thought to herself, but said, “Well I heard you invite him in,. so I guess it’s gonna be a long night of conversation and soul-searching. Why don’t you go downstairs, and see if you can scare up another bottle of wine and three glasses? Oh, and, if you don’t mind, take a little longer than usual opening it.”

“Good idea,” Terry said.

As he got to the top of the stairs, George was just coming out of the bathroom.

“I’m gonna go get some more wine. You want a glass?” Terry said over his shoulder, he hoped nonchalantly, as he started down the stairs.

“Sure,” George replied. He went back into the bedroom, and was pulling the top sheet loose from the bottom folds under the mattress, when he suddenly remembered he hadn’t flushed the toilet. Isolde willl have noticed that, he thought. Then, Oh well – I was gonna barge in anyway – this just makes it a little easier.

What he had done, was go into the bathroom, and sit down on the toilet, with the lid closed. He hunched up his knees, and propping his elbows on them, bent forward and held his forehead in both hands. I wonder what’s going on, he thought. That couldn’t have been Terry’s idea. He’s a good guy, and all that, but he wouldn’t have decided to cut himself off that way. It must be Isolde. So I wonder what she’s thinking. I doubt she’s thinking about having sex with both of us at once – if she wanted that, she would have said so, instead of just coming upstairs with Terry. Well, maybe she just wants to be cuddled by the people she loves. OK, I’m gonna force myself to learn to live with that. So, having settled everything in his mind, he came out of the bathroom, just as Terry was heading down the stairs.