Off Campus 04 Pt. 08

"Okay, go on..." Bethany prompts.

"I believe we are proving it is possible for one person to truly love multiple others. I know I do. I know they do. And to seek intimacy with and between all of us. There is an inherent joy in our combined loving relationships. Yes, it 'breaks all the rules' as I've been told on several occasions, but it's what we are living."

"I see your side, but is it, really?" Bethany challenges. "You have the seven women all supposedly loving you, with two men in apparent adjunct capacities, one for sexual services only. You have a harem, even in the sense of special housing for your 'collection' of females."

"And that's a bad thing? How is it a bad thing, as you seem to imply? How is it bad, as compared to, for example, serial, non-committal, temporary, casual one-on-one relationships, euphemistically called 'modern dating'? Or 'hooking up', even? We are committed to each other, in all respects. Deeply. Look around you. The only reason all nine of us aren't here in support of our Hannah is we have a business to run. How is this kind of commitment worse than disposable casual encounters?"

Cheyenne interrupts, "Steve has a point, Bethany. I'm a great example of living the 'disposable' approach. Physical gratification without emotion? Solves one problem, but its emptiness is vast."

"Thanks, Cheyenne! Bethany, you diss'ed 'my guys'. I love Phil and Thad. Phil is a best bud, a partner, a cornerstone of the 'core four', Phil, Jen, Cyan and myself. The others may not 'love' him as much as they do me, but they lean on him for support, counsel and physical gratification. I am glad he is there for them. And Thad? You've heard too much from Hannah's perspective. Frankly, she doesn't respect him, like she doesn't respect men in general, but he fulfills a basic need for her. I respect him very much. He has matured enormously since joining our clan, and I hope that I had a role in forming that maturity. I'm proud of him."

"I'm reeling, Steven," Bethany sighs. "Clinically you are all over the map, although from the little I've read I'm getting the sense you guys have what is called "polyfidelity" -- multiple partners primarily faithful within the group. Recognition within formal psychology is nascent at best. Anyway, Hannah did tell me you have a special protective sensibility within and over the collective, and on that front you have pulled out all the stops here."

She pauses.

"Honestly, I can't be too harsh in my assessment. I have to respect you for your dedication and devotion, and in the immediate situation, your love and support -- and protection -- of Hannah. Your attention, knowledge and concern saved her life. There. Point blank. You are a force to be reckoned with, that's for sure. Can't say I agree with your points of view, but I have to respect that you have them, and live it. Tell you what."

"What's that?"

"I'm open-minded enough to be interested in your situation as a study candidate. My PhD thesis is sputtering right now, and I could sure use a change of direction. Your 'modern harem' is fascinating, as is polyamory in general. Your situation has that benevolent patriarch thing all over it, but on the surface you seem to have achieved a balance. Even could be called a healthy balance. If you are attracting and keeping -- dare I say -- devoted partners the likes of Cheyenne, then there is obviously something there. You game?"

"How deep do you want to get, Bethany? Has Hannah told you about everything?"

"You mean the orgies?"

"Question answered!" I laugh. "With or without chocolate?"

She laughs back, "All I can say is you guys do have your fun. It appears to be part of what drives the whole, so, yeah. That, too."

"You are then doubtless aware we have a dress code at our parties, so be careful what you wish for if you want to observe."

Cheyenne and Cyan are suppressing their laughter.

"I heard," she grumbles. "Mandatory naked."

"You got it. We'll talk about this with everybody when we get back home. Like everything else we do, it is a joint decision. I don't think anyone will object, though Jen will have reservations that will be dispelled in discussion. It's the way she works. One more thing."

"What's that?"

"If we agree on a formal study, you will be comp'ed a room and meal privileges as our guest for the times you are there for observation and interviews. As you have probably discerned, I value serious analysis and education, and informed debate. Earning a PhD is expensive, and anything we can do to help you succeed with it will be our pleasure."

"Thank you, Steven. Hey, guys... it looks like Ally and Jessica are ready to pass Hannah to you two. Go say 'Hi'."

Cyan and Cheyenne make their way to Hannah's pod, sending Ally and Jess to be with Bethany and me. Ally leans over for a kiss before sitting down, Jess finds my lap and holds tight.

"Sweetheart? Steven?" Jess asks of me. "Hannah told us you saved her life."

"Yes, sweetie, that's what they say. The important thing is she will be fine now. Relax, sweetheart. Bethany and I have been here talking about some serious stuff. She might have a question or two for you. Be yourself."

"Thank you, Steven. I do. Jess, from what I understand, you had a difficult home life when you were growing up. In what way were you abused?"

"Beaten up, mostly. Look at me. I was the 'runt of the litter'. Five brothers and three sisters would push, kick and punch me out of the way if I even so much as looked at them funny. My father was a drunk and beat up my mom a lot. Mom didn't dare treat me nice out of fear that Dad would hit her hard for 'helping the runt', that I didn't deserve any special attention."

"Was any of the abuse sexual?"

"No, thank goodness. Two of my brothers got drunk once and thought they were going to try something, but they passed out before laying a finger on me."

"And you had difficulties in your adult relationships, too. Violence?"

"Yes. Also from alcohol. My first serious boyfriend would get shitfaced on Saturday nights and bat me out of the way like a fly he was swatting. I was reluctant to leave him because he paid attention to me when he was sober. He lost his job and was consistently drunk from then on, grabbing my paycheck out of my hand to cash and buy booze."

"Subsequent boyfriends?"

"Pretty much the same. My social life was limited to the trailer park where my first guy lived. Fortunately, I was too tiny to be considered "decent fuck material" as they told me. Over and over again."

"Your relationship with Steven here is quite unusual. Does he represent the father you wished you had?"

"Steven? I'm afraid to answer that."

"Go ahead sweetie," I reassure.

"I don't think so. My first meeting with Steven was... Steven?"

I chuckle, "You can tell her. She knows a lot about all of us."

"Circumstances were such where I interrupted his intercourse with his girlfriend and took over. It was completely sexual, entirely in fun. That was our entire relationship until that evening."

"Then what happened? I take it this was at one of the 'parties'."

"Yes. It was the first one. We had a joke going about my size."

"'Spinner'. Hannah told me about it."

"It was my last intercourse with Steven that evening. We connected in... I dunno... a spiritual way. I knew I loved him right then and there. He was kind, considerate, gentle, funny... oh, gawd, so funny. And fun. I didn't care that he was spoken for, I loved him anyway. And he was wonderful to have, in 'that' way. The sex part."

"But there was something else, I've been told."

"Ohmygawd, yes. He sort of knew, had a premonition or something, that Hannah and I were closet lovers. And he knew that we were afraid to out ourselves to our friends. He all but stopped the party to make sure that she and I had the time and a secure place to express our love with each other. And he... this sounds odd... educated our friends that Hannah and I were in fact in love, needed to be protected, and that everybody was to respect and encourage our relationship. He was brave for me. And for Hannah."

"Still just sexual?"

"No. From that point on he became my protector. He also sensed, and eventually was told about, the abuse I had endured for nearly my entire life. He has spent the past year and then some teaching me about genuine love and trust, and gentle discipline. I adore him. Wouldn't you?"

"So not a father figure? You're in his lap right now seeking that kind of security and comfort."

"Nope. 'Father' in my world is an abusive monster. Steven is protection, trust, and intimate closeness. Very intimate closeness sometimes."

Ally giggles. I roll my eyes.

"Okay, there's a story here," Bethany observes. "Ally? Care to elaborate?"

"Steven? Are you sure?" Ally doesn't want to admit this for me.

"Go ahead, sweetie," I reassure. "If she knows about chocolate syrup parties, she's entitled to know about my and Jess's special... uh... 'connection'."

"Okay, lover. If you say so. The lap thing between them is really, really special," Ally starts in. "In fact, it started on their first meeting. Jess normally doesn't wear anything under her skirts. Truthfully, none of us do. So whenever the time is right, and so often the time is always right, she hikes her skirt, sits in his lap, undoes his pants, and they... well, they fuck. They've become so adept at this you don't know when they are, or aren't. If it wasn't for her wearing jeans at this moment you simply couldn't be sure they weren't joined in intercourse right here in front of you."

Bethany's jaw drops.

"You okay?" I ask. I get a giggle from Jess.

"Steven, I've heard a lot of things in my fifteen years in psychology and social work, especially in sexual matters, but your relationship with Jess... hell... your relationship with all of these ladies is so... what's the word?... surreal! Phantasmagoric! Simply not believable! If your folks turn out to be okay with my following you in a study, we are on! I don't give a hoot about what my PhD advisor says!"

"Well, if you put it that way!" I chuckle. "Seriously, I know from the academic point of view you will be required to anonymize the study. If the reality is that unbelievable, then how are you going to defend your thesis against the detractors who will claim you made the whole thing up?"

"Good point. Best thing I can think of at the moment will be a road trip for the review panel, a "meet the subjects" session in Ottawa. It will of course work in my favor that you guys are stunningly frank about your relationships. Some folks take years of work to get to your stage of honesty. As I sort of said before, there are clinical pathologies all over the place with you guys, but you function to a degree that is simply unheard of in my field. My hat's off to you. Keep it up."

"Thanks, Bethany. Oh -- my wife and Cheyenne are headed our way. Let me go say a quick 'bye' to Hannah."

I quietly slide the door open and see a snoozing Hannah wearing a little bit of a smile.

A soft, "Sweetie?" as I approach. She blinks awake.

"Steven! Come here! Kiss me!"

The attending nurse smiles at our loving buss.

"We have to go check in at the hotel, sweetheart. I'll be back later this morning. You rest."

"I am so happy you are here. Thank you for bringing Jess. I missed her, too. All my true loves, here with me, together."

"You're welcome. Now get some rest. We want to take you home, but you have to get better first. Okay? See you in a few."

"I love you!"

"You too."

I quietly tiptoe out into the hallway.

"Everybody ready? Bethany, I will be back later this morning to stay with Hannah. What are your plans?"

"I have to be back at the clinic. You have my cell. I'll be back after six tonight. We'll talk more then."

"Thank you. Ladies? Let's go."

We find our way to the ER waiting room, walking slowly down the hallway. Ally and I have our arms around each other's waist and I'm holding hands with Cyan; Cheyenne and Jess are also embracing. We activate the huge doors into the triage area and waiting room. It's still early, but it's shortly after sunrise and the day is starting. I notice a handful of patients waiting to be seen or are standing by for loved ones. Two or three hear the doors opening and glance toward us. It's almost a movie scene, the five of us walking side-by-side as the opening doors become a stage curtain. No doubt it's a particularly dramatic entrance.

There's recognition, with mouths agape.

"It's them!" I hear one whisper.

"'Them' who?" questions the person sitting next to them.

"Look!"

"Shit!!! It is! Why are they here?"

I pause our entourage.

"Good morning, folks. Yes, it's 'us'. One of our ladies is quite ill and is in the ICU. Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers, as will we keep your loved ones in ours. Take care."

"Thank you, sir! Good luck!" says one. The others remain speechless.

We resume our short trek out and to the car.

I start the car and hand my phone to Cheyenne.

"Could you please call the hotel and let them know we're on our way. About five minutes."

She makes the call.

"They appreciated the heads-up, Steven."

It's 6:15 a.m., so we're not too far off my wild-guess estimate from the road, nine hours ago.

It's a short drive on city streets. Rounding the corner I spot the drive-up and entrance.

"'Appreciated the heads-up' is understatement! Look, everybody!"

There is a veritable army at the curb waiting for us. As I pull in the gathered crowd is applauding. I stop and shut the engine off, and six smartly-uniformed bellhops rush to open doors and unload luggage. Cheyenne is right, we are celebrities now. It's a rush. It's fucking scary. I wish we were here under better circumstances.

The five of us gather ourselves on the sidewalk and the crowd parts to let us through. We are showered with cheers of affection, things like "We love you, Steven!" from many ladies, the men voicing, "You are the man!" I mostly keep my head down and smile in my embarrassment; the ladies are closed-in tight around me.

We are met in the lobby by a very lovely lady, probably in her forties, impeccably and professionally dressed in a sleek beige pencil skirt and flattering blouse.

She reaches to shake my hand, "Mr. Albertson, I am Margaret Jackson, executive manager of The Pike's Peak Lodgings. We are so honored to have you here."

"Thank you, Ms. Jackson. I apologize for our disheveled appearance; we have had a long night and difficult morning and are in need of rest. Please call me 'Steve'. Let me introduce my family and management team. This is Allison Abercrombie, my close friend and our CEO."

"Ally, please. I look forward to a few moments with you to compare notes, if that's okay with you," as she shakes Ms. Jackson's hand.

I continue, "This is my wife and a co-owner of The Abercrombie, Cyan Leslie. This is Cheyenne Morris, our attorney and my dear friend. And this is Jessica Olson, our restaurant and tavern manager. Also a dear friend."

"Pleasure. Please, I'm 'Meg', Steven. I understand that you are here to handle a personal emergency. My best wishes for your circumstances. If you need absolutely anything, let us know. Our staff and I are excited about the sudden publicity you have generated for our mutual specialty in the hospitality business. But I won't delay you any further. Here are key cards for you and your family to the Centennial Suite, on the top floor. Get some rest, and we will chat later."

"Thank you, Meg. Let's go, everybody."

There is still a crowd gathered around us. Fortunately it is mostly hotel staff, and as we move toward the elevators they part almost as if to secure our path, a heartfelt welcome. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, Meg.

The ride upstairs is quick. I glance at Ally, raising my eyebrows.

"Rub it in, Steven," she smirks. I don't have to say a thing; our elevators continue to be a pain-in-the-butt.

The bell captain is at the door to our room, having already deposited our things inside the door. The girls file into the suite; I pause to greet him, and shake his hand in appreciation.

"Welcome, Mr. Albertson. If you need anything, my staff and I are most proud to make you and your family as comfortable as possible."

I reach into my pocket to proffer a suitable gratuity.

"NO!" he refuses. "You are very much our honored guest. You are a valued friend in our business. You are making a big difference. We cannot thank you enough."

"My goodness. Thank you very much, uh..."

"Tom. Tom Watson."

"Thank you very much, Tom. Appreciated."

"Thank you, sir. Again, if you need anything. Have a peaceful rest."

"Thanks!"

Tom shuts the door for me. Making my way out of the foyer I find four of the most beautiful ladies naked as they prepare to bathe. There are two full bathrooms with large showers in the sizable suite, and they are pairing up to rinse off the grunge and sweat of being stuck in the car for close to ten hours.

"Anybody leave room for me?" I request.

"You can shower with uuuuuuuuussss, Steven," coos Ally.

"Yeah. Be with us, sweetie!" encourages Jessica.

"Hey, what are we?" Cyan protests.

I get a stern, "How dare you!" scowl from Cheyenne.

Frankly, it takes my breath away, seeing my gorgeous wife and equally stunning Cheyenne standing there naked, arms around each other's waist. A matched set. This mental snapshot is going in my permanent memory album, that's for sure.

"Solomon doesn't have an answer for this one, ladies!"

I finish undressing for the shower, and pad over to Cyan and Cheyenne for hugs and kisses. The hugs are a little sticky, but I don't mind.

"Oh gawd you two are just stunning. Breathtaking. I don't get a chance to bathe with Jess very often, so you guys get me later, okay?"

I get chuckles from them both.

"If we can't give you grief, who can?" my loving wife chides. "Go love on them."

Parting kisses with both and I turn away to step toward Ally and Jess.

WHACK! Oo. That stung. Shit-eating grin from Cheyenne after slapping me on my bare butt, hard. Everybody is cracking up.

"Hand print?" as I twist around to assess the damage.

"She scored on you real good, sweetie!" Cyan manages to spit out in her laughter.

I quickly turn toward Cheyenne with thumb and forefinger ready for a good ass pinch. Just as quickly she squirms to dodge the attack. The chase is on!

We go for a good couple of laps around the suite as the others hoot and cheer at our antics. I swipe at her two or three times "just missing". It's only for effect, obviously, but it elicits joyous squeaks from her as we chase.

As we pass a bed I lunge for the tackle. Gotcha!

I don't break my hug. She hugs back in earnest. We stare into each other's eyes as we catch our breath from the chase. We kiss intensely. Oh gawd I am so hard. I must have her. And she must have me. Cheyenne grabs my cock and pulls it into her. We embrace that much tighter, and roll around on the bed in a most exquisite intercourse.

This. This is the way we are. Cheyenne and I. This is our unique relationship, distinct from the intense love for my other ladies.

The others are smiling and embracing each other in their support of our tensions having, yes, exploded in such a loving and interdependent release.

"You two are a mess!" Cyan quietly chuckles.

We pay her no mind. We are going for orgasms this time. Without saying a word we know that, together. It's been almost a week of nonstop crushing intensity, one crisis after another, with every opportunity to push back against the mutual stresses interrupted. We are going to fuck and fuck hard, gawdfuckingdammit, until we are both totally spent.