[[[-IF3M-03.TXT-]]] ---------------- Island Fever 3: Matrimony Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com M/F, F/F and a whole lot more ---------------- Chapter 03: "Blessed" Just seven days out from Christmas, _Kenwood Towne Centre_ in Kenwood, Ohio was bristling with activity. The upscale shopping center and mall - home to a wide variety of stores and boutiques - had a massive crush of holiday shoppers on this chilly Thursday evening. As Christmas drew closer with every passing day, I knew it would become even more frantic. People love getting those last minute deals. But amidst the hysteria of an overcrowded shopping center, I was able to space out and find utter relaxation for a brief spell. Standing in front of the triple-tiered mall fountain with a death grip on the two bags I was carrying, I listened to the soothing sounds of the rushing water and, for a fleeting instant, felt as if I had been teleported back to the beach on the fabulous island that I once called home. Perhaps lounging in a safe, shallow spot of the ocean, with each incoming wave cresting and swelling around me? The unmistakable feel of the hot, blazing sun from above beating down on my neck and back? Maybe even a certain, special lady to cuddle and play with, each of us innocently splashing water on each other? Or better yet, how about two ladies and... "What cologne are you wearing? It smells amazing." My illusions of tropical grandeur were unceremoniously interrupted - and I was brought back to the here and now of the noisy shopping plaza - by the sound of a female's voice. It was a voice, however, that I did not recognize one bit. Who was this woman, and what exactly did she say to me? I looked at her and blinked, then shook my head as if to clear the cobwebs, and looked again. An attractive lady, no doubt, perhaps in her early to mid-thirties. Dressed in holiday red, this mystery woman had a friendly smile as she studied me from head to toe. Once we made eye contact, her smile became even wider. Hmmmmm... "Excuse me?" "Your cologne," she reiterated. "What is it? I walked past you a few times because you smell so good." "Oh," I countered, unprepared for such a flattering remark from a total and complete stranger. I was not accustomed to random women approaching me out of the blue and throwing compliments my way. With the life I led, however, I did not need my ego to be stroked like this. I rather she would have just not spoken to me at all. "It's called _Ambre Topkapi_," I told her, being polite. "It comes from France." "It smells wonderful!" the woman commented, her voice bubbly and cheerful. "I'm Shannon, by the way," she added, extending her hand. "And you are?" "Jeremy," I answered, accepting her hand and shaking it. Was this woman - Shannon - trying to flirt with me? "Are you from around here? I live in Terrace Park." "I'm from out of town." Actually, the country. Right? Shannon smiled again and glanced all around, taking in the surroundings of the hectic mall and the thousands of shoppers jammed into it. "This place is crazy, isn't it?" "Sure is busy," I agreed. The woman's posture changed, and she seemed to take on more of a serious aura about her. “I was getting tired of waiting for you to come over and talk to me, so I decided to make the first move between us and break the ice myself." Huh? There are many ways one can go about flirting - whether it is a woman trying to do so with a man, or a man with a woman, but that last line actually left me speechless, and suddenly feeling quite awkward. Others may enjoy being approached and spoken to this way, but I certainly did not. I found myself even more disoriented when, from the side, two hands cupped my face, followed by a pair of soft, velvety lips pressing themselves against mine for a kiss. My eyes wide, I then noticed and realized that the person kissing me was none other than Scarlett. Thus, I was able to relax. Like the angel that she was, Scarlett swooped in from the right and, in front of this mystery woman who was flirting with me - Shannon was her name - she staked her claim to me in convincing fashion. The last thing that I wanted to do was hurt Shannon's feelings and/or insult her by rejecting her advances, though I was more than prepared to do so. Scarlett took care of that for me, though, and decided to add a definitive punctuation mark. "Hi honey," Scarlett cooed at me once our kiss was over, grinning for emphasis. She then glanced at Shannon and offered her a (very fake) smile. Shannon, of course, had a bewildered look on her face. She obviously was not expecting this. "Oh," Scarlett said, turning her attention toward me. "A friend of yours?" "Just an innocent discussion," I mused. "I see you've met Jeremy," Scarlett said to the woman. "He is my husband." My eyes nearly popped from their sockets at those words - her _husband_ (!/?) - as she ended, "I'm really not looking to share him, so you can run along now. Shoo!" Shannon appeared surprised and quite perturbed, but shook her head and walked away without a response. I really was not looking forward to turning her down myself. But thanks to Scarlett, I did not have to. Once Shannon was gone from view, I was able to take a deep breath, and exhale accordingly. "You're welcome," Scarlett simply told me, an overloaded shopping bag hooked on her right forearm. "Husband?" I still could not believe that Scarlett told Shannon that I was her husband. "Thank you. But husband?" She shrugged her shoulders. "It worked, didn't it?" "I think you were jealous," I teased her. She smirked at me. "Maybe. This is supposed to be my night out alone with you. Away from the others." Scarlett patted me on the shoulder and concluded, "I could not let some little hussy invade on my territory tonight." "Hussy?" I laughed. "You're mean." At initial glance, Scarlett appeared to be a distinctive combination of classic Hollywood elegance and unapologetic raw sexuality. Standing 5-foot-3 with an all-natural, curvaceous body, thick and luxurious red hair and sparkling green eyes, Scarlett was both gorgeous and innocently exotic. She had a carefree spirit and a warm, friendly persona that fit seamlessly with the other ladies in our relationship. At the shopping center, Scarlett was dressed in a pair of hip-hugging blue jeans and a button-down twill jacket, its color brown. It was a casual piece with a clever striped lining that gave the appearance of a separate hoodie underneath a simple jacket, but it was actually a single item. A drawstring clinched the striped jersey hood over top of Scarlett's head, keeping her warm. The Norwegian valkyrie also had on a pair of black suede sneakers with 2.6" wedges hidden in them, giving her a modest boost in height. Bright neon pink laces provided a feminine touch, as well as a striking contrast to her entire outfit. And... that voice. Undoubtedly one of Scarlett's most amazing features was simply the sound of her voice. It was so sultry and erotic that shivers literally went down my spine every time that she spoke. Husky but not smoky, deep but not masculine, breathy but not raspy, along with a definite foreign flavor mixed in. It was absolute, pure perfection. "What did you get?" I asked, taking the bag from her and adding it to the other two I was carrying (like a gentleman). "I bought a travel tote for Devon which I think she will like, and a contour kit for Lindsay." "A contour kit?" "Makeup, Jeremy," she informed me. "Mascara. I also got some energy pills and nutritional supplements for Trish. I think I will give them to her tomorrow for her birthday." "Are you done gift shopping? Or do you want to walk around the mall some more and do some exploring?" "I like exploring." "Anything for my wife," I chuckled, peeling back her hoodie, then hooking my arm around hers. We began walking down the aisleway. "How long have we been married again?" "10 years?" she giggled, shrugging it off. "Our honeymoon was phenomenal!" "Now you are being silly, Jeremy." Needless to say, Scarlett proceeded to receive quite a few stares from men who were obviously dumbstruck by her beauty. Who could blame them? Her eyes were huge and inquisitive; a leafy green that could leave anyone spellbound. Her nose finished in a knob that blended in well with the rest of her physical features. Her cheekbones were hearty but not too severe, those moist, pouty lips were simply epic, and her teeth were glistening white but somewhat crooked along the bottom, which lent a minor blemish to a face that may otherwise have been too perfect to be true. "Why don't you pick out something for yourself?" was my suggestion. "I'll buy you whatever you want." "Oh, I'm fine," she assured me, before coming up to a cardboard cut-out of Carrie Underwood - the famous country music singer - in the display window of an entertainment store. "That is the American celebrity that Lindsay has such a big crush on? Pretty girl." When I nodded my head at her, Scarlett smiled softly. "Thought so. I know very little of American music or entertainment, unfortunately." "Why should you?" I retorted. "You're 30 years old and have spent your entire life living in Norway. This is the first time you ever even left Norway." "America is very different than my country," Scarlett observed, glancing around at the sights within the mall. "Christmas seems very commercialized here. In Norway, the holiday itself seems to have more value and meaning. From what I have seen thus far, Christmas is more about money in America. All of the stores are fighting for business. It is way too commercialized here for my tastes." "I was never a big fan of Christmas until Kristanna came into my life six years ago," I admitted. "Why is that?" "All that time I spent living alone," I frowned. "I never really enjoyed or appreciated Christmas until I had someone special to share it with. You know, someone to show me what it is all about. I first found that in Kristanna." "I am certain you helped show Kristanna, too." "Would you like to sit on his lap?" I grinned, motioning toward Santa Claus across the way. Of course, there was a long line of children - their parents also in tow - waiting to meet him. "I'm sure Santa WOULD love for you to sit on his lap, and tell him what you want for Christmas." Scarlett made a face at me. "I will pass, thank you." She then produced another smile and murmured, "If I sit on any man's lap tonight, it will be yours." "Oh really?" Suddenly, my interest level was sky-high. But so was Scarlett's. But not because of me. "I love sunglasses," she stated, breaking free from my clutches and hurrying over toward a center kiosk that sold hundreds of them. "Never met a pair of sunglasses that I did not like," the enchantress informed me when I approached her, sliding on a couple of pairs. She seemed to really like a certain pair with dark lenses and an exaggerated pink frame. "Do you think they're too girly?" Scarlett asked me, eyeing herself in the mirror. "If you like them, get them," I told her. "I'll pay." "No," she retorted, putting the sunglasses back on their display rack. "I do not want you to spend money on me. I always feel guilty when you buy me something." "It's not like I can't afford it." Scarlett shook her head. "That's not the point." "Better get used to it," I warned her. "I'm hoping to have you as a part of our lives for the next 40 years." Scarlett began to walk off, but stopped once I reached the end of the sentence. She turned and offered me quite the inquisitive look, then flashed that sultry smile yet again. "What are you trying to tell me?" "Guess." She giggled. "I am having lots of fun right now with you and all of the girls. That is for sure. Personally, I think it is amazing how the seven of you love each other so much. You back each other up to no end. Most amazing of all, though, I see no jealousy in your relationship. Anywhere." "It's just a perfect blend of the right mix of people." "Here we go," Scarlett announced, noticing a bath and beauty boutique, and heading straight for it. "I bet that I could find a wonderful Christmas present for Amy in there." "I also wanted to thank you for everything that you did yesterday," I mused, following her into the aforementioned store. "Your medical knowledge and expertise really shed a lot of light when it came to Pamela and her depression issues stemming from the birth of our daughter. Then, you calmed a lot of fears and helped the others understand just exactly what it is that she is dealing with." "I am a nurse, Jeremy. It is what I do." "I still appreciate it, though." "My pleasure," Scarlett nodded. "I hope that Pamela is able to really open up and tell the psychiatrist what is on her mind tomorrow morning when you take her to see him. The proper medicine will work wonders for her." She smiled once more. "The love and support that you and your girls are showing for Pamela is remarkable. It is truly astonishing. She is in the best situation possible to get help." "What do you think about the next 40 years?" Scarlett looked at me and clicked her tongue. She then pursed her lips and glanced downward for an instant, perhaps lost in thought. "40 years sounds very enticing." I grinned at her. "I will take that in a positive way." "My God," she gasped seconds later, staring at the huge display wall in front of her. "So many bars of soap!" That voice literally had its own frequency in the air. It was legitimately as defining of a component of Scarlett's physical makeup as her face, her lips or that wondrous body. Whenever I was with Scarlett, I could _feel_ that sexy voice. The mall was loud and people were in a tizzy, but Scarlett's voice - somewhat sandy, even sounding a bit broken down - cut through the chatter, going above and beyond it. It was the type of voice that I heard no matter what. Fairly soon, Scarlett and I finished walking the rest of the mall. By this point, I was carrying four shopping bags. I refused to allow her to take even one - no matter how tired my arms and shoulders got from the continued strain. "Living on a farm with you and the girls is definitely something new for me, too," she said. "I'm not a farm girl. At least, I wasn't until I met you. Although, that big mansion you live in - the inside of it, at least - is nothing like a farm." "You just have to watch the pigs," I chided her. "Especially Hogglesworth. He can be very sketchy." "The pigs are actually okay," Scarlett retorted. "Horses and cows are all good. But the chickens..." "The chickens are the worst." "Chickens scare me," the red-head offered. "I do not like them at all. They seem a little floppy or something." "Floppy?" "They are vicious," she explained. "I never knew what the term _pecking order_ really meant until I saw a large group of chickens in a coop. That was some nasty business." "Really nasty," I agreed, chuckling with her. "Geese are mean. I try to stay away from them." "Steer clear of the goats, too," I advised her. "They always seem to be in a bad mood." "Can you blame them? They're goats." "True." The last three hours had been simply wonderful for me as I was able to focus all of my energy and effort onto the witty and dazzling Scarlett. It was getting late in the evening, however, and I knew the mall would be closing shortly. Plus, Trish and Lindsay had returned to the hotel from their big day out with their respective families. Lindsay texted me 30 minutes ago and, according to her, everything had been a wonderful success. She and Trish, along with the other ladies, were now patiently waiting for Scarlett and I to make our own return to the hotel. After exiting the mall and getting into our rental car in the parking lot, Scarlett leaned over and pecked my cheek with a kiss. "Thank you, Jeremy. Tonight was really fun." Scarlett added an exclamation mark when she placed the side of her face upon my shoulder and sighed contently. "You're very welcome," I responded, eyeing her longingly. "I had a blast myself. And you finished your shopping." Scarlett hesitated for a moment and bit her lip, but then glanced up at me and mused, "Spending the next 40 years with you - being a part of the family you have created with the other girls - would be a dream-come-true for me." "You already are part of the family, sweetheart." * * * Two hours later, Scarlett was crying and holding a knife. But this was not near as scary as it may seem to be. Scarlett was standing at the counter in the kitchen of our hotel suite, preparing herself a late night salad dish. Everything was fine until it was time for her to chop the onions. You see, Scarlett and onions did not mix. Her tears flowed quick and freely. This was not like a normal person slicing into a whiffy, pungent onion. A mere 30 seconds into it, Scarlett was pink-eyed and sniffling, and looking as if she had just lost her best friend. "This happens to me every single time!" Scarlett mewed. Having changed into something a little more comfortable - specifically, one of my dress shirts that went down to her knees - Scarlett's pair of eyeglasses (which she rarely wore) offered no defense. "I'm such a total and complete mess!" Finally, Scarlett put the knife down and had to step away from the counter. The onion had defeated her. After excusing herself for a brief moment, the 30-year-old returned and this time, brought backup. She had on two sets of glasses - the original pair, plus sunglasses - both pushed together and dangling over her nose. "You know, you could just ask for help." "Oh, I'll be fine," Scarlett promised me, her voice full of conviction, as she grasped the knife and began slicing the onion again. "I'm a big girl. I got this." Sure enough, Scarlett soon began to tremble and I saw new tears appearing from underneath her double shield of lenses. Exasperated, she took the remainder of the onions and angrily tossed them into the garbage disposal. "I'm not in the mood to eat onions with my salad tonight anyway." I laughed at her, but soon turned and exited the kitchen. The time was 10:45pm on this Thursday evening, and everyone was still trying to not only recover from our long airline flight from Norway yesterday, but also acclimate themselves to this brand new time zone. Trust me, it was not easy. "Hey kiddo," I said to Lindsay, who was all snug and curled up with Trish underneath a blanket on the sofa, the two of them watching television together. "Miss Trish," I greeted, leaning over and pecking her on the lips. "Hi," Lindsay cooed at me in her soft, ultra-sweet tone. Trish raised her hand and waved at me, saying, "Hey..." "When are you girls going to bed?" "Soon," Trish answered. "Been a long day." "A fun day, though!" Lindsay chirped. "My family is like best friends now with Trish's family. It's awesome!" "Happy birthday," I said to Trish for what seemed like the millionth time today. The sentiment never got old, though. "Thank you." Moments later, I ventured into the first bedroom and found Kristanna and Devon cuddling together as well. Even better, they were sharing deep, open-mouthed kisses, and both were stripped down to their lingerie. Soon, I knew the erotic showcase would be more entertaining - they would be totally nude and fully indulging themselves in each others' charms. Whenever they were alone together, these two ladies simply could not keep their hands to themselves. "Why don't you join us?" Kristanna grinned, extending her arm toward me as an open invitation. "Yes, join us, Jeremy," Devon agreed, her tone breathless. Call me crazy, but as tempting as the idea was, I had to pass. "I need to take a shower first and get freshened up. Perhaps a rain check?" Kristanna giggled at me and shrugged her shoulders. "You lose, then." She immediately resumed her tongue-laced kiss with Devon, and both ladies quickly forgot my presence. When I went into the other bedroom that this massive hotel suite had to offer, I noticed that Pamela and Amy were inside. Pamela looked very calm and serene as she lay there and slept peacefully. Amy, though, was all smiles and put her magazine down as I gingerly approached her. "Hi sweetheart," I offered, sharing a kiss with her. I placed my hand upon Amy's abdomen and held it there, and smiled again. It was my way of silently acknowledging the little life that was growing inside of her right now. "Hi Jeremy," Amy returned, full of happiness, as she put her hand over top of mine and squeezed appreciatively. "How is she doing?" I asked, motioning toward Pamela, who was sprawled out next to her in bed. "Better," Amy nodded. "I think knowing and realizing that she has a problem - an actual medical issue - has helped her out a lot. Pamela is looking forward to going to the doctor in the morning and getting back to her old self. She has also been sleeping a whole lot better the past 24 hours." "What about you?" I wondered, my hand now rubbing itself across what would soon be a baby bump. "You feel okay?" "I've never felt better," Amy graciously informed me. After I returned to the main area of the suite, I brushed my hands through Trish's fabulous brown hair and ruffled it a bit as I briskly walked past her and Lindsay on my way to the adjacent washroom. Once inside, I closed the door and began to disrobe. I was tired and very sore; I figured that a shower would be a great elixir for what ailed me. As I turned the water on and then settled on a soothing, warm/hot temperature, I thought about tomorrow and what it would entail for me. In the morning, I was escorting Pamela to a local medical facility where a licensed psychiatrist would most assuredly diagnose her with a mild to moderate form of Postpartum Depression. Hopefully, he would provide Pamela with some medication that would start her on the path to wellness. I already had a second appointment lined up for Pamela - with Amy's personal psychiatrist - exactly one week from today back home in Norway. Also tomorrow, Kristanna and I were going to meet up with my family - my sister and brother, as well as my mother, and many others - for a Christmas gathering. Remember, Lindsay was not the only person from our group who had family in the Cincinnati area. Amy's parents also lived nearby as well, although she had been on the outs with them for a long time. The three of us had all been born in the Cincinnati area. I freely admit I was not near as bold or as brave as was Lindsay; I had still yet to tell anyone in my family (except for my father, who lived in California) that Kristanna was not the only woman in my life. I just did not know how my family - especially my mother - would react to being told that I had three wives, one fiance I would marry in ten short days, and three more girlfriends. They were under the impression that Kristanna and I were married and living quite the vanilla lifestyle in Norway with our newborn son, Kaden. Also, I knew everyone at the family party tomorrow would be greatly disappointed that we chose not to bring Kaden with us. Heck, no one in my family (with the exception of my father) even had a clue about Piper... Kristanna and I would have to be back at the hotel by 8:00pm tomorrow evening, though, because there were plans and arrangements for all of us to celebrate Trish's 32nd birthday (which was actually today). Although the party would take place 24 hours later than it should have, it was going to be a fun and festive night nonetheless. The following day - Saturday the 20th - we would begin to concentrate and focus as a group on the final preparations for the upcoming wedding of Trish and Lindsay. Their wedding date was Tuesday the 23rd, so it was rapidly approaching. I wanted everything about the ceremony itself and the reception afterward to be absolutely perfect. While taking the aforementioned shower, I was in no rush for it to end. I did not experience a debilitating case of jet lag this time around as I had following some of our transoceanic flights in the past, but I still felt incredibly sluggish. I had also put up a good facade for the ladies, not letting them know that I felt any discomfort at all. I thought about my life and how fortunate of a man I was. No, fortunate was not the word. It was more like damn lucky. Did I really just freely mingle and socialize with _seven_ drop-dead, gorgeous women in a five minute span like it was nothing? Well... six (Pamela was sleeping). Regardless, did I really just do that? Even more amazing, all of these ladies loved and cared for me unequivocally. I would be deliriously happy being married to just _one_ of them, and spending the rest of my life with her - no matter who it was - in a monogamous relationship. What normal man would deny himself the opportunity to wake up each morning for the rest of his life only to find Devon's pristine, picture-perfect face just inches away? Or how about a well-mannered wife with submissive tendencies like Amy, who seemed to just _glow_ whenever you were around her? With Trish, why would one even think of putting the genie back in the bottle once she emerged? Was there a man who could resist the sheer exuberance and beauty of Lindsay (let alone her insatiable appetite for pleasure)? Could one find fault in a woman such as Pamela? Miscast for a decade as a stripper, Pamela was now the faithful and loving wife that I had spent years searching for, yet thought I would never find. In all honesty, there may not be such a thing as the _perfect woman_. But I am a firm believer that for every man, there is a woman made perfect for him. Which leads me to Kristanna. The sexiest and easily the most charismatic woman of the entire group, Kristanna was my true centerpiece in life. She was my focal point; the one that kept me grounded. Beautiful, funny, intelligent and full of world-class charm and sunshine, Kristanna's primary objective - I have heard this from her many times in the past - was to always be certain that _I_ was happy and well taken care of in life. Everything else was secondary to her. Was there a man on the face of the Earth who would not want to have a woman such as Kristanna as his soul-mate and bride? Kristanna was, simply put, the ringleader and true orchestrator of what my life had become over the past year-and-a-half. She welcomed and openly encouraged all of the various other ladies who now had such integral roles in my everyday life. Without her, I would still be experiencing a painful, desolate existance back on the island. Without her, I would be all alone. Kristanna was the one who insisted that I have multiple wives. She wanted Devon - her own favorite girl - as a part of our relationship from the very beginning. Kristanna's reaction when it became clear last year that the more dependent Amy became on me as she battled her mental issues, the more she and I fell in love together? "Invite Amy to stay," Kristanna told me. "Offer her a spot in our life." What about when Trish stepped forward and professed her true feelings for me? "I love Trish! I think she would be a great fit in our relationship." Lindsay, who nearly left us to return home, but changed her mind at the last possible second? "You need Lindsay, Jeremy. And Lindsay needs you." Of course, no one could ever forget the saga with Pamela. Once bitter enemies, Kristanna and Pamela set aside their differences and, with me as their common denominator, eventually fell head-over-heels in love themselves. Still, Kristanna was the ringleader. She was the orchestrator. Pamela would still be wrapping herself around a brass pole on a nightly basis in Maryland if it wasn't for Kristanna. "Just come back to the island with us," I remember her telling Pamela. "It is best for both you and Jeremy. We will work everything out in the end." Three wives. One fiancee. Three girlfriends. If another woman came along who fit our very specific profile and everyone was in agreement about her, Kristanna would pass out another open invitation. All for me, right? Indeed, _fortunate_ was not the proper term to describe my life. I am not certain _damn lucky_ did it the right amount of justice, either. Whatever the case, I was just going to sit back and enjoy the ride. It had been amazing thus far. And throughout that long dialogue, I did not even mention the stunning and vivacious Scarlett. According to Kristanna, Scarlett would be my wife one day, too. Just ask her. <<<- End of Chapter 03 ->>> ==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- - -- - - - - --- -- ----== "Island Fever 3: Matrimony" (c) 2014 JeremyDCP - JeremyDCP@hotmail.com Feedback is always appreciated!