PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Wolf Tango (Threesome Menage New Adult) (Paranormal and Urban Shifter Short Stories) (2 page)

With Mathew back behind the wheel the big SUV purrs down the highway, the soft country music on the surround sound audio system intermingling with the thrum of the new tires on the macadam surface of the road. “Hard to believe we are less than twenty four hours into this mission given what we have been involved in Matty.” Mathew looks across at the contented grin on Joshua’s face and catching his own reflection in the rear view mirror realizes he is wearing one to match. “Yup, scratch one point on the board for the good guys,” he quips. Joshua seems hesitant as he adds, “That Rose sure was one very appreciative lady, I think I won’t forget her generous hospitality in a hurry.” Gently easing the car round an eighteen wheeler and stepping on the gas Mathew asks,” are you referring to the wonderful breakfast and awesome cold cuts and salad lunch she has packed us for the trip, or is something else crossing that fertile mind of yours? Joshy, we have been pals all our lives, if you have something on your mind just spit it out.” He reaches across and puts his hand on Joshua’s shoulder, “And I mean anything, we have a family bond and a clan bond and something way more significant than that. Our lives depend on each other at any given moment on some of our missions and we both have a respect and trust for one another than most people never achieve in a lifetime. I think I know what’s eating at you and it’s kinda getting to me a little too, so let’s thrash it out now before it festers and bites us in the ass later. Okay?” Looking a little sheepish Joshy looks directly at Mathew and contritely responds, “Sometimes I forget how close we are partner, and that you know me on some levels probably even better than I know myself. I was thinking about Rose and that started my mind wandering over the events after we saved her poke. I was so into that girl, well, woman I should say, it was one of the most sexually fulfilling experiences I have encountered. She sure is one knowledgeable and accomplished lady, I hope we have enough time up our sleeve on the return trip to stop by and see how she’s doin’. Joshua looks back at the road ahead and Mathew notices a pink tinge under his color, “Josh’, you are dying to ask me how I feel about what happened between us back there and I want to tell you. But the gosh darned truth of the matter is I really haven’t got a handle on it myself. There are a dozen Freudian answers, and many older than that about extremely close male bonds tripping over the edge of social boundaries into the grey areas. The ancient Greeks and Romans encouraged homosexual activity between their warriors, believing that men fought more fiercely when defending a lover. Freud had notions that life threatening events could heighten libido exponentially, and in addition to that I have heard stories of homosexuality between male wolves which have been rejected from the pack. I feel none of these is pertinent to our situation because we are both red blooded heterosexuals. If I was asked to make any conclusions here I would suggest that as well as being life-long friends and partners in the Werewolf Warrior elite, we have actually developed a bond of love between us and this manifested itself in a small physical way in the heat of sharing the intense sexual exploits of a big beautiful woman whom we were both into.” Joshua continued watching the road unfold in front of the car as he was taking Mathew’s ideas on board. His inordinate respect for his partner caused him to give considerable credence to Mathew’s explanation. Eventually he responded, “Well as usual you hit the nail right on the head, I was under the impression I knew myself reasonably well, and although I consider that I am educated and well informed and consequently open minded, had anyone suggested to me I had any latent gay tendencies I would have thought they were a few degrees off plum! And yet, with every wonderful trick Rose pulled out of the hat in that incredible ménage-a-trois, the scene that is replaying most in my mind is..ahh..well, you know!” The pink hue at his neck had become positively scarlet. Mathew looked at his friend’s troubled features and with his usual aplomb squeezed his shoulder and asked quietly, “Joshy, did you enjoy it?” Without looking up Joshua replied equally as quietly, “Yes, very much, I guess that is what concerns me.” Concentrating on some tight curves as the road descended down the steep mountain range Mathew was silent for a few minutes. “So did I Josh, and that does not make either of us gay. You said it yourself, we are highly educated men and know as well as anybody that life is an extraordinary adventure and ours is shaping us to head our clans in the future. In my opinion, there are way too many labels that the general rank and file uses to try and place events and people they don’t quite understand into mental compartments they can deal with. Sexuality can never denote character. Decency, generosity and a willingness to lend a helping hand to encourage someone up the slippery slope of life is what defines us as human beings, and you and I are both caring and passionate about these ideals. If you change the oil in your car does that make you a mechanic, or if you change a light bulb does it mean you are an electrician, of course it doesn’t. We are not afraid to storm a household of miscreants we know are armed and dangerous, why then, should we fear a shared moment of intimacy, if not for ingrained lessons by ill-informed religious leaders or teachers without one tenth of our life experiences or strength of character, who would prefer to live next door to an axe murderer than a homosexual. This is an unfortunate aberration of ignorance and lack of education. We have transcended friendship, and given our considerably dangerous life styles, we should not find this as unusual as we find it interesting, or even another learning curve. In conclusion Joshy, I believe we are closer now emotionally than we have ever been, and to me that is a positive thing.”  With a beaming and mischievous grin Joshua winks at Mathew and laughingly says, “Okay, so I don’t rush off and buy a white dress and a trousseau.” Mathew clips him across the head playfully, “you bloody wanker, I philosophy about the deep and meaningful journey of life and you make jokes.” Relaxed and at peace now, the two men spend the remainder of the morning formulating strategy and honing their fine and intelligent minds to razor edged sharpness to facilitate the return of the priceless and ancient Clan amulet from California.

Southbound on the Santa Monica Freeway, the powerful car not missing a beat, Mathew gets the local map and guide books from the glove box and studies the route again. He has the address committed to memory, and now, with only fifty miles to their destination he refreshes it. “There should be a major intersection about ten miles this side of San Diego Josh, approximately 40 miles from here. I will set the sat-nav on the GPS and that will get us to the estates’ private road. I will call them from there as per instructions; we are exactly on schedule so no doubt the call will be expected.” Nodding acceptance, Joshua concentrates on the heavy traffic and Mathew folds the map and returns the documents to the glove compartment. Enjoying the breeze from the Pacific Ocean, the boys wind down the windows. The vehicles’ air-con had received quite a work out on some of the inland highways they had travelled on since leaving New York. The pleasant cruise down the coast alongside the turquoise Pacific had relaxed them both as they neared the end of the long trip.

“Good morning Sir, I am Mathew Dalgarty from New York, I believe you are expecting us,” Mathew speaks into his Samsung Galaxy 5 mobile phone. “Yes Sir, we are at the estates’ western gate now. Thank you Sir, goodbye.” Mathew puts his phone in his shirt pocket as the ten foot high, electrified security gate slowly retracts behind the concrete pillars.  They cruised through and onto the concrete single lane road which disappeared into the heavy woodlands in the distance. The harsh Californian sun dissipates as the enter the heavily forested foothills and the SUV engine takes on a deeper note as it thrusts the big vehicle up the steep inclines. As they broach the crest of a hill and exit the woodland the valley below is presented in full panoramic splendor. What appears to be a replica of a fifteenth century Scottish castle stands toweringly over a man-made lake which is connected to the moats surrounding the castle by two drawbridges. As they approach the western wall the drawbridge is lowered and they drive beneath a portcullis and into a central courtyard. Bringing the big car to a halt near a wide balustrade stairway the two men get out and stretch. “Please follow me gentlemen,” intoned a uniformed doorman. “Bring the gentlemen’s luggage Mason, and place it in the Braveheart suite.” Not daring to look at each other for fear of laughing uproariously at the almost ludicrous situation of a Scottish castle, uniformed livery men and the name of the suite, we follow our colorful guide. “The Laird will join you for lunch gentlemen. If you would like to bathe and dress I will return for you in two hours.” With stylish dignity he backed through the huge double doors, closing them as he did so. “Have we time warped or something?” Joshua chortled, collapsing into a large arm chair beside a fireplace that could have roasted an ox. “Laird, castle, drawbridges and liveried servants, I have never seen anything like this, not even when I visited Europe last year. I hope you didn’t miss the innuendo about our attire being inappropriate for lunch with the Laird. But you knew already you sly rogue, that’s why you had me pack a tux’.” Mathew grinned, “Yes. I was told the old guy is a little eccentric. but don’t sell the man short, he built this from nothing in just thirty years. He is the epitome of a canny Scot and very well respected by our Clan.” We retired to our respective rooms and discovered that huge claw foot baths filled with fragrant hot water had been prepared for us, and as we soaked away the grime of our cross country trek the liveried servants unpacked and pressed our tuxedos.

“The delegation from New York M’lord,” intoned the butler. Standing aside, he ushered us through into a palatial hall with full length and somberly draped windows and an oak dining table that would have comfortably seated at least sixty people. In full Sots splendor, kilt, sporran, dress sword and tamashanta, our host stood near the unlit open fireplace which housed a spruce log which, if milled, could have built a small dwelling. Towering at least six inches over our own six foot three frames, he came forward to greet us. “You would be Mathew Dalgarty and your companion must be Joshua Connolly, I am Sir William Morris. Welcome to Dunlevy Castle.” Indicating the table which had four place settings at the far end he continued, “Will you share a wee dram with me while we wait for my ward to join us?” Nodding acquiescence, we crossed to the table, and politely waited for our host to be seated before we chose chairs opposite each other on either side of the Laird. “A sherry I think Gibson,” ordered the Laird, and the butler, who had positioned himself near the baranswered, “Yes M’lord, and for the gentlemen?” Mathew raised not an eyebrow, “Thank you Gibson, Mr. Connolly and I will have the same.” Placing three brandy goblets and a decanter on an ornate silver tray he placed them before Sir William. “Thank you Gibson, that will be all,” said Sir William. Gibson backed from the room replying, “Very well M’lord.” Picking up the decanter the Laird poured three very liberal measures saying, “We won’t stand on ceremony lads, please feel free to help yourselves.” A considerate and informed host, he plied us with sherry and regaled us with hunting stories from his youth in Scotland. He was was also a fund of information about the clans, both here and overseas, and how we were connected with each other. Whilst not having met either of our immediate families he knew of them and that both Joshua and I were of royal blood. Smilingly, he admitted to the source of his extensive clan knowledge and of our families. “Dunlevy Castle is the protector of clan history in the Americas gentleman, and I have been the clan historian for almost a century. When I was informed of your names I took the liberty of searching the archives to become better acquainted with my future guests. Ahh, welcome my dear,” This last, to the apparition entering via a door at the far end of the room. Truly a vision of loveliness in a floor length, saffron colored silk gown, she literally glided toward us. She had golden tresses piled high in an ornate coiffure pinned with platinum combs which glittered and flashed as the fine beams of sunlight filtering through the window drapery flicked over them. “Thank you Uncle William,” purred the big beautiful woman. Turning, she bestowed a radiant smile upon us each in turn and in the same dreamy purr continued, “I do apologize for keeping you waiting gentleman.” Leaping to our feet each trying to outdo the other even the usually urbane and suave Matthew was stuttering. “Err yes. I mean no. No, not at all Mam.” Joshua’s mouth was opening and closing but no sound was forthcoming. “Allow me to introduce my Ward gentlemen, Princess Penelope Worthington. Penelope, this is Prince Joshua Connolly and Prince Mathew Dalgarty of New York, They are your escorts to the East Coast.” Obviously accustomed to gallant, and initially tongue tied young men, the princess smilingly requested, “Do sit down gentlemen please, you are so tall my neck is getting a crick in it looking up at you.” Obeying instantly and in unison, Joshua and I sat, neither of us taking our eyes from the most beautiful woman either of us had ever beheld. She was also one of the tallest, even seated; her dark emerald green eyes were on the same level as our own. “Will you take a sherry my dear,” asked Sir William. Pouring his exquisitely divine ward a drink he nudged a small button on the table near his knee summoning the ever subservient Gibson and commanding. “You may serve the soup now Gibson.”  Every course was a sensation, Cream of chicken soup with tender grain fed birds from his own flock, stuffed partridge and pigeon, Lamb roasted and basted with mint sauce, a delicate pumpkin pie, a truffle soufflé so light it almost floated into your mouth unaided, and a mulberry pie with a tender crust that melted in your mouth which was topped with pure whipped cream from his own cows that morning. And none of it registered with the boys, they might well have been eating bangers and mash at a jetty on the Thames in London. Wisely sitting back and watching the dynamics between the three young people at his table, the Laird was intrigued by the fact that both Mathew and Joshua seemed equally smitten with his delightful ward, and unless he was grossly mistaken, she with both of them. “Oh to be young again,” he thought, he was going to miss Penelope’s quiet intelligence and far reaching, fireside evening conversations.