[[[-IF3M-03.TXT-]]]


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Island Fever 3: Matrimony
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com

M/F, F/F and a whole lot more
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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 ->>>



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"Island Fever 3: Matrimony"

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