Mendocino Coast

When I arose, my curly mop of hair dripping like Medusa, Claudine said, "There is some good news. "

"And that is," I asked.

"We have a case of his wine I picked up in St. Helena on my way up here."

"St. Helena? Kind of an indirect route from Berkeley to Little River, isn't it?"

"Yes, but he had sent me a message this morning using the Lodge's Wi Fi telling me to pick it up on my way up here. And for a case of his wine, I was willing to take a long detour.'

"Good point."

"Apparently, he planned on staying for a while. I was feeling just great, a case of wine, Andre, and you for several days here in Mendocino. Life was good. But it has taken a turn for the worse."

He must have sent that message this morning when I was sleeping and he was fetching croissants and coffee, I thought. "Oh well," I said. "We still have wine and each other. I hope you've opened a bottle."

"Of course," Claudine responded with a smile. She reached over the edge of the tub and pulled up two glasses and an open bottle of a Russian River Pinot Noir produced by a winery Andre had recently purchased.

She poured and we each took a sip. It was lovely, not at all like the family's Burgundy pinots. It had a yummy, heavy fruit in the foretaste followed by a lingering dry finish. A Burgundy would never start with that much fruit. "Oh yes," I said. "Very nice." I paused for a moment as I savored another sip of the wine. "You know," I said. "I do like some of these Sonoma Pinots, but I try not to admit that to Andre. It irritates his. . . his Frenchness, to admit that California makes good wine." I laughed. "Still, he is happy to invest money in it."

"He likes the price he gets for his California wines," she said.

I laughed. "Business first and patriotism second."

"Oui," She said with a smile.

I took another long drink of the wine, letting it swirl about my mouth as I savored the luscious fruit.

Claudine was looking at me through partially closed eyes over the top of her wine glass. "Mais Oui," she said. "We have a case of this yummy wine, and we have each other. It would be better with Andre here, but it does leave more wine for us."

"Yes," I said smiling. "And there is absolutely nothing we can do about Andre and his problems for the next 12 and more likely 24 hours." I moved across the tub so I was between her legs. She set her glass and mine down behind her and leaned back against the rim of the hot tub as I reached down and pulled her hips up, floating easily in the warm water. Now her sex was just before my face and I began to eat her with long slow strokes of my tongue.

Pulling my head back for a moment, I said, "I owe you. I fucked Andre mercilessly all night and you got none of it. Now I need to make it up to you." I leaned forward and resumed licking her juicy lips as I slid two fingers into her cunt. She was warm and ready.

It took me only a few minutes to bring her to a loud climax. I could have backed away just before she climaxed, teasing her as I often did, but it didn't seem fair, given how I had hogged what turned out to be the very limited attention we got from Andre during this tryst.

After she climaxed, I tried to keep working her clit with my tongue but she pushed me away. "No, no. I need to recover." She stood to retrieve the wine glasses and refill them with the water streaming off her chocolate skin. She was stunningly beautiful. Then she sank down before me, sipping at her glass. Let's drink this and then I'll do you. Then we will have to go to dinner."

"Oh yes," I said. "We do have a dinner reservation for this evening at the lodge." As I savored the wine, my pussy was clenching as I thought about what Claudine was going to do to me with her talented tongue and fingers. I was not disappointed.

Claudine was subdued at dinner. I didn't push her, hoping she would talk when she was ready. After dinner, when we were back in the hot tub, she finally opened up.

"You know I love you Danielle," she said. This was serious. She was rarely this direct.

"I know. You've told me regularly. As I have you."

After a long silence I asked, "Is there a problem?"

"No, but. . . " there was a long pause. "But I'm in love with Andre too, and I think you are also."

I thought for a moment. "Guilty on both counts," I said. "I love you, and I love Andre."

The silence between us was palpable—thick and heavy like the force of the fog around it. I could sense a strong dark color arising from it.

After a long wait she spoke up, "And I don't want to lose you . . ."

"Nor I you," I interrupted.

"But Andre . . ." she continued.

"Can you love both of us?" I asked.

"I do," she responded.

"As do I," I said. "Both of you. And I don't resent you for loving Andre. I've known it since we first met in Paris. I think the only way I can have either of you is as a package."

"Yes," she said. She took a long sip of her wine.

"I wonder what Andre thinks," she asked.

"We don't know, do we?"

"No we don't. That makes it very complicated."

I took a sip of my wine. "It's not tragic, Claudine. We're not living in a bodice ripper."

She laughed. "It feels like it sometimes."

"Don't worry about it, Claudine. Bodice rippers always come out fine in the end. Our only real problem is Andre's family in France. I think he would be happy to move here and live with us in our little ménage et trois, but his family, especially Grand-Mere, won't have it."

"Okay. I guess we will just have to live with it. Grand-Mere can't live forever."

"But right now," Claudine continued, her eyes gleaming and her continence brightening as she spoke, "I have some really great dope I got from my landlord in Berkeley. I think we should get stoned and then eat the left over cheese cake we brought back from dinner."

And we did. And the dope was good. And the Cheese cake good; even better than it had been at dinner. Nothing like a good, rich, cheese cake for a case of the munchies. We slept soundly, spooned together for warmth under heavy blankets as the heat faded from the wood stove and the cottage chilled to the temperature of the fog.

We were in Yountville by noon, drinking coffee on the front porch of Charlie's gallery. Andre called late in the day. We put him on a speaker phone so we cold both hear him. He said the problem was solved before he got off the plane, but the underlying causes remained. Grand-Mere couldn't bring herself to accept the lifestyles of her offspring. "Now I'm going to sleep for about two days," he said. "Then I will return to California and pick up where we left off—in a warm hot tub on the Mendocino coast with two very beautiful naked ladies. Try not to drink all of that case of wine, before I get there."

Chapter 9. Dinner for Three in Mendocino; Changes in Paris

I was late by the time I arrived from Yountville. At least a year had passed since the afternoon Andre had left Claudine with a case of wine while he flew urgently back to Paris. Andre's family in Paris was still a family at war with itself, but there were apparently no pitched battles. Andre was in California more frequently now than he had been in the past, but the growth of the family wine business and my and Claudine's burgeoning art careers kept us all busy.

In front of the cottage Claudine's little car was parked alongside my sports car and Andre's Jeep (yes, he had bought a Jeep for California transportation. How "un-Parisian"). Those two better not have started without me, I thought. I walked through the cottage finding no one, but noting casually strewn clothes throughout. I walked out the back and found the two of them in the hot tube, sitting side by side with just their heads and shoulders above the steaming waters. They had a wine glass in hand and a bottle of white wine in an ice bucket on the lip of the hot tub. They were facing the cottage as though they had been waiting for me.

"Where have you been?" Andre asked.

"The traffic coming over from Yountville was terrible," I said. "Not just cars. Cyclists too. My god there are more of them every year. Some of them ride like they have a death wish. And when I got to the coast the fog was as heavy as I've ever seen it."

I was lightly dressed. It had been in the low nineties in the Napa Valley. Now I was standing here in jeans and a skimpy T-shirt shivering as the wind blew the cold fog in off the ocean. "Brrrr, I'm cold," I said.

"Get in," Andre said. "We will warm you up."

"Yes, but you must take those clothes off first. This is not a clothing optional hot tub. It's naked only," said Claudine.

Hmm, I thought. They have started without me. Not surprising.

I quickly stripped off my clothing and stepped up on the edge of the tub. As I let myself down into the hot water it felt exquisite. Hot enough to be prickly on my skin but still helping to warm my chilled core. I let myself sink to the bottom opposite them holding my breath as my body warmed. When I raised my head above the water I saw Andre was standing, moving to one side to make room for me between himself and Claudine while Claudine poured me a glass of wine. I moved quickly across the hot tub and sunk down on the bench between them. The three of us sat facing out to a sea obscured by the fog, our heads alone above the warmth of the tub.

"I suppose you two have been fucking yourselves silly while you waited for me?" I asked.

"Juste un peu," Claudine said with a smirk.

"How do you fuck yourselves silly 'just a little'?" I asked. My French had improved modestly.

"He only came once," Claudine responded.

"I see, and you?" I asked her.

She giggled. "I lost count."

We all laughed. "You are incorrigible; both of you," I said.

"Tell me Danielle. How many times did he make you cum last night and this morning over in Yountville?" she asked. Andre had arrived in Yountville from Paris the day before and had driven over before me. We had again spent the night at the luxurious hotel he liked to stay at.

Andre was maintaining a discrete silence.

I went through a charade of counting up on my fingers and then I shrugged my shoulders confessing I didn't know, and said, "Juste un peu," with a laugh.

There was more laughter.

Then Andre diplomatically suggested we declare a moratorium on sex—until after dinner.

"You just need recovery time, old man?" Claudine said.

"No shit," he responded. "Who wouldn't with you two. I also need food. I haven't had a real meal since I left Paris. As soon as I arrived from Paris, Danielle dragged me off to bed."

"I hadn't seen you in a week or two," I said in a weak self-defense.

We snuggled together sheltering in the hot tub from the cold, blowing fog until we finished the bottle of wine. A sprint to the warmth of the cottage followed, where we took our time dressing for dinner.

At around 7:30 we adjourned to the restaurant at the resort on the other side of the little inlet. We were greeted at the door by Herman, the owner and maître' de.

"Ah Danielle, Danielle. It's been so long since you have joined us. We have your table waiting. And who are your friends?" all in his heavy German accent, which he had not shed since he came to America after the second world war, the son of Jewish refugees.

"Herman, how can you say that? I was here only ten days ago with Claudine." I gestured towards Claudine as I spoke. And I'm sure you remember Andre. He's been here several times with me."

"Oh yes, of course, of course. He stepped forth the crushed me in a greeting hug and another for Claudine. Herman may have been approaching 80, but he was still lecherous.

This way please, honored guests. He led us to a corner table which would have had a gorgeous view out over the ocean, but for the evening's fog. I thought about the fog for a moment and sensed a tan color with a few greenish stripes from the wind. Then I let it go to focus on this evening's dinner.

We sat chatting about this, that, and everything: Claudine's recently completed MFA from CCA; strikes on the Paris subways; Macron's efforts to reform the French economy; our own idiotic President and his efforts to do, well none of us were quite sure what from day to day; the success of my Sounds of Fire painting at the latest FIAC festival.

After a while the subject of Andre and his in-laws came up. Andre seemed in a mood to talk expansively on the topic—something he did not frequently do.

"It is perhaps a bit better," he said. "Grand-Mere is showing her age," he said. "She is nearing 95. She no longer looks over John-Paul's and my shoulders about the business as she used to, and she has also taken to leaving Brigette alone. That is making things better for all three of us."

Claudine and I looked at each other. "Does that mean you two are getting together again?" I asked.

"What?" responded Andre, laughing. "Of course not. You two, better than anyone, should know she prefers women to men for bed partners."

Claudine and I looked at each other. A silence followed until Claudine said, "You knew?"

"Of course I knew, but neither of you were among the first of her female lovers." He smiled. "You know, you shouldn't think Grand-Mere is the only one in the family with an information network. John-Paul and I have had one for years. Of course I knew both of you were sleeping with my wife, but who was I to complain, given what I was up to with the two of you."

"Does Brigette know . . . "

"That John-Paul and I know about her affairs with the two of you and others?" he said finishing my question. "Yes, of course. We no longer have secrets in the family. We could never keep anything from Grand-Mere, but for years we didn't talk to each other. That has changed. Brigette, John-Paul, and I got together a few months ago and laid everything on the table."

"That must have been quite a conversation," Claudine said.

Andre smiled. "Believe it or not it was Brigette's idea. She told us she was tired of sneaking around to hide her life from the two of us. Grand-Mere knew everything so there wasn't much point in all the secrecy. The conversation was a little slow getting going, but we had a couple of bottles of good wine, and over a couple of hours, everything came out.

"Did she know you were screwing both of us?" I asked

"She does now. When I told her, I thought she might get mad. She just laughed and said, 'I can't figure out who to be jealous of—you or those two. Besides, they don't keep secrets very well. They told me. Not about their own affairs with you, but always about the other's affairs with you.'"

Claudine and I looked at each other. "Well discretion was never my long suit," she said.

I laughed and said, "Mea Culpa."

"So I told her maybe she should just ignore my affairs with the two of you," Andre continued. "She agreed and even suggested that perhaps we should have a foursome sometime."

Claudine laughed and said, "That's a kinky idea."

"Hmmmm. Yes," I agreed.

Andre said, "Don't get excited. She has a new lover who would object."

Now it was my turn to laugh, "The new girl is going to be disappointed. Expecting Brigette to be monogamous is absurd."

We all laughed at that notion.

"What about the business?" Claudine asked.

"The business is thriving," he responded. "Especially here in California. But John-Paul doesn't want to come over here and pay attention to it, so I will be spending more time here." He chuckled. "That was another thing that came out in our little tete a tete. John-Paul has been estranged from his wife for several years now. He lives with his new lover, Bernard. Bernard doesn't like him to travel."

"He's gay?" Claudine said. "God what a family."

"Tut tut, girl. Let those of us without sin throw the first stone," I said.

"It's France," Andre responded with a shrug. "We're not like you puritanical Americans."

"Puritanical?" Claudine echoed. "Excuse me, but have you forgotten that the three of us were naked in Danielle's hot tub not less than two hours ago? Last time I checked none of us were married to either of the others in the hot tub and certainly not both."

Andre smiled and said, "I love California. Let's go back to the hot tub."

"Do you have anything left old man," Claudine asked.

Andre shrugged. "I can always watch you two." And he did.

Chapter 10. The Vineyard

Two more years passed. I continued to split my time between Yountville where I worked part time in Charlie's gallery and the Mendocino cottage where I continued to crank out paintings that Gerard readily sold for more money than I ever imagined I would have. I made occasional trips to Paris to help Gerard with his marketing of my art, including a thriving secondary market in my paintings he had developed. While I was there I had an occasional fling with Nadine and a dinner one night with Brigette who confirmed all of what Andre had told us about the family's new relationship. She even confirmed her new monogamous status by rejecting my effort to seduce her. Claudine had developed a thriving market for her work in a couple of Northern California galleries. She still had an apartment in Berkeley, but she spent much of her time at my place in Yountville. She was doing most of her work in Charlie's old garage where I had painted Sounds of Fire.

I received a call from Andre who wanted me to arrange a dinner with Claudine and me the next evening. He was just about to board a plane from Paris to San Francisco. He said he had important news that he would share with us at dinner. I arranged for Claudine to pick him up at SFO and made reservations at Bouchon. I was a more frequent customer there now that I was selling my paintings regularly. I no longer needed Charlie to get a table on short notice.

Finally when the waiter had filled our glasses with the lovely Sancerre Andre had supplied, Andre said, "Ladies, I have news for you. There have been some major events in my life in France that you need to be aware of."

"First, Grand Mere has passed. It happened about six months ago; shortly after I returned from my last visit here."

Claudine and I made appropriate murmurs of condolences to which Andre responded with a shrug and said, "All good things must come to an end." Only a Frenchman could load that much sarcasm into a simple shoulder shrug.

He went on, "Her will was a surprise for all of us. She left her homes in Paris and Provence solely to Brigette along with a significant grant of financial assets that none of us knew existed. Brigette will never have to worry about money again. The wine business she left in equal shares to John-Paul and to me."

"How did Brigette react to that?"

Andre shrugged his shoulders. "She didn't really seem to care. She never had any interest in the business and the rest of the grant she received will make her comfortable for the rest of her life, even at her extravagant life style. In addition her new lover's family is extremely wealthy."

"That is extraordinary news," Claudine said.

"There is more," Andre continued. "Brigette and I have agreed to divorce. The allocation of our assets excludes all of the assets received by each of us from Grand-Mere and was satisfactory to each of us with respect to our marital assets."

"And," he continued, before either of us could react, "John-Paul and I have decided that our North American business has grown to a size that will require full time management here by one of us. He has no interest in living here, so we have decided that I will be the North American Manager of our company. The main purpose of my trip is to decide where I want to office and live."

Claudine and I stared at him in shock. Finally I spoke up, "Just don't tell me you are going to office in New York?"