[[[-IF5-P12.TXT-]]]


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Island Fever 5: Family
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com

M/F, F/F and a whole lot more
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Chapter 12: "Insecurity"
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            -*-  Wednesday, March 23, 2016  -*-
                -*-  Sandvika, Norway  -*-


   "When I was 19, I had a friend named Mandy who talked me 
into working at a strip club in downtown Baltimore.  Part of
the reason I worked there for as long as I did - nearly 12
years - was that I took too easily to that job back in those
early days.  Or, perhaps it took too easily to me.  From the
very first night, I was the top earner in that club.  It was
not extravagant, ridiculous money.  It was not New York, 
Chicago, Los Angeles.  It was Baltimore.  On a good night,
back in 2002, 2003, I took home anywhere from $500 to $800.  
But that was $500 to $800 for a 19-year-old who, at my prior
job, earned $800 per month working full-time."
   "A strip club can be a pretty nasty, hostile environment.
Strip clubs are full of girls who had often been the hottest 
and most popular, most sought after girl, while in school.
Girls who are used to getting whatever they want, all the 
attention they want.  Some girls adapt, but most don't.  The 
competition at strip clubs can be really intense.  And there 
is a prize - a cash reward - for winning each mini, little
popularity contest.  Which one of us gets that guy in the
corner to open his wallet?  What about the guy at the end of
the stage?  Who earns the most amount of money each night?
Did that girl really just steal my customer away?"
   "At first, the veteran dancers were really nice toward me.
I was the new girl.  I was friendly, I listened to their
advice, I tried to be respectful.  Some of them gave me
advice on where to shop, buy outfits.  They taught me how to
remember names, little tricks of the trade.  But when that
new girl grace period expired, it was clear to everyone in
the club that I wasn't getting by on beginner's luck.  I had
several returning customers.  I had my own game plan, my way
of hooking new customers, and keeping old ones."
   "For almost a year, I was bullied at work.  My clothes
were stolen, my drinks spit in, my car was keyed.  The only
true friend I had at the club - Mandy - she was no longer
there.  She actually... died.  Mandy overdosed on cocaine and
heroine one night with her boyfriend, and they both died
because of it.  I never did any drugs before that incident,
and what happened with Mandy and Jason certainly taught me
never to try them at all, period."
   "But there was a certain group of girls at the club who
did not like me, all of a sudden, because I was getting the
lion's share of the pot each night.  I was the top earner.
They made nasty comments every time I stepped out on stage.
I tried to ignore it, but I heard them.  It was all fueled by
jealousy.  Without my friend Mandy, I had no one to turn to,
to confide in.  Someone to help watch my back, you know?"
   "Most nights, I was terrified of walking from my car to
the entrance of the club, or from the club to my car at the
end of each shift.  I kept my eyes down in the locker room,
did not say anything.  Those girls would sit there, glaring
at me, whispering, saying hurtful things.  I rarely took a
break.  If I took a break, I would have to go to the locker
room and open myself up to them, their taunts, their hate.
I worked eight, nine, ten hours straight with no breather."
   "Sometimes, I could not deal with it.  I would get into my
car after a really tough shift and just start crying.  What
did I do to those girls?  What did I do to deserve this?  All
I was doing was my job.  I worked hard at it.  But I was not
going to quit the club.  I could not let them win.  And yes,
I admit, the money was way too good to pass up.  I did not
want to go back to _McDonald's_, or take the job my uncle
kept offering me as a waitress in his seafood restaurant."
   "One night, I guess, several of the girls got together and
agreed to bark at me - bark like a dog - every single time I
walked by them."  Kristanna's eyes went wide in a mixture of
shock and horror, as did mine, as Pamela continued, "Every
time I went to the back to get ready for a stage show, all
I heard was barking.  It sounded like a kennel.  Girls would
get right up in my face and bark uncontrollably.  That night,
I could not handle it.  I ran out the back door, crying
hysterically, and jumped into my car.  The manager, who was
new, followed me out.  He was nice, he talked me through it.
He was the first person there to actually talk to me, treat
me like a human being, in a long time.  Since Mandy, really."
   "The manager - Wayne was his name - said he did not like
the atmosphere of the club.  He had been there for maybe four
or five weeks.  And he told me that night, he was going to
make a statement.  The atmosphere was going to change.  There
would be always be competition because it was a strip club,
but Wayne was not going to allow it to be a shark tank any
more.  He promptly fired every girl who was ever mean to me."
   "Things improved for me immediately thereafter.  Wayne
took a liking to me; he said he actually wanted me to be the
face, the centerpiece, of the club.  What 20-year-old girl
is going to say no to having her face on three billboards
across town?  There was a huge wall mural - a picture of me -
in the front lobby of the club, right when you walk in.  I
even got to be in two commercials for the club that would air
on local, late-night television.  New customers - people who
had never even been there before - were coming to the club
and specifically asking for me, the girl from the billboards,
from the commercials, from the mural.  I was making double,
sometimes triple, what the other dancers made each night now.
To his credit, Wayne ran a tight ship.  There was jealousy
and competition among the dancers - it is human nature - but
no one got bullied or felt threatened.  He would not allow it.
Wayne would tell the other dancers that if they wanted my 
earnings, my popularity, they had to work as hard as I did.
To him, I was the model dancer, the standard for his club."
   "But four years after he arrived, Wayne quit the club one
night out of the blue.  A new manager was brought in."
Pamela rolled her eyes.  "Kevin.  But, you know, I was no
longer the new girl.  I was nice and courteous toward all of
the other dancers, the bouncers, the waitresses... everyone.
I had lots of goodwill built up.  When I was 24, 25 and Wayne
suddenly left, I was not worried about being bullied there
like I once was.  At that point, my biggest fear was age.
Wayne liked me, wanted me to be the showpiece for the club.
But Kevin?  To Kevin, I was one of the older, aging dancers.
This was a very good, higher-end strip club, and it prided
itself on having the youngest, most attractive dancers."
   "I looked at my job like it was a business, and worked my
body as if it was that businesses' biggest asset.  I knew
full well that a stripper's days were numbered from the very
first time she walks out and appears on stage.  I knew there
would always be younger, shapelier girls waiting in the wings
and, after five, six years in the business, giving lap dance
after lap dance, doing stage show after stage show, I began
to get really protective of my body.  And very insecure.  That
really started to amplify once Wayne was no longer there."
   "I had good days, I had bad days.  On my confident days, I
still saw myself as the most popular dancer at the club.  But
as I got closer to 30, the less confident days were becoming
more and more frequent.  The billboards of me, the mural?  No
longer up, replaced by the hot, new 21-year-old girl.  The
commercials no longer aired.  If I added two, three pounds to
my frame - Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, for example - I
felt big as a cow.  I was insecure, I was scared... I thought
I would walk into work and be told that I was fired, I was no
longer good enough to work there.  I made my living by looking
sexy.  It was my whole life, my existence.  When I feared that
was slipping away from me, I felt scared, very on edge, and on
some occasions, depressed nearly to the point of suicide."
   "Pamela..." Kristanna breathed, reaching out and grasping
her hand, as the pair of ladies sat with me here in my home
office.  The three of us had been talking for the better part
of an hour, with Pamela obviously in the middle of describing
what life was like for her as an exotic dancer from 2002 to
2013, or ages 19 to 30.  Where she was ultimately going with
this long dialogue, though, I had no idea.
   "My God, Pamela!" Kristanna added in disbelief.  "You are
the sexiest, most beautiful woman I have ever met!  How could
you have any doubts, feel any insecurities about yourself?
There is no way any of those girls looked better than you..."
   "Just let me finish," Pamela insisted.  "Fast-forward a
bit, a few years.  I go to the island, meet you, Jeremy, all
the other girls.  Things do not work out at first, but then I
eventually come back and all of us become a big, happy family.
Am I right?  I am able to put my time as a stripper in the
rear-view mirror, distance myself from it, almost make believe
it never happened.  Obviously, I am not proud of that career.
You have your first baby, Kaden, and barely gain any weight.
Right, Krissy?  You come home from the hospital and you have
what, 10 pounds to lose?  No one could even tell you were
pregnant to begin with.  I'm pregnant at this point now, too,
and I'm thinking the same thing will happen for me.  Piper
will be born, I'll shrink back down and be normal in no time."
   "But on the evening of November 25th, 2014, as I lay in the
hospital bed several hours after having given birth to Piper,
I looked down at my stomach and I suddenly felt horrified.
It was supposed to vanish when Piper came out, right?  But
the nurse told me I weighed 147 pounds.  It was 27 more than
my pre-pregnancy weight, the same weight I kept as a dancer.
I worked my ass for years to stay right at 120.  If I gained
two or three pounds, I used to panic.  Now I had 27 extra
pounds.  I... was trembling, shaking, in the hospital."
   "Trish and Lindsay stopped by to see me a few minutes
later," Pamela added.  "Trish, the epitome of fitness and
nutrition, with her lean, sculpted body.  A body that I would
have killed for, even 10 years ago.  And Lindsay, looking
like a little stick figure, albeit an extremely sexy one, in
her baby t-shirt and spandex pants.  Not an ounce of fat on
either of them to be found anywhere.  I thought of you,
Krissy, how hot, sleek and slender you are.  Devon, Amy,
Scarlett.  I thought of Jeremy.  And I felt petrified."
   "All of a sudden, I had my old mindset back.  It was as if
I was a stripper again, and I was comparing myself to everyone
else.  But this time, I was 27 pounds over what I worked my 
whole, entire adult life maintaining, while also going through 
all the emotions of giving birth... the highs, the lows, the 
uncertainty.  Everything just blew up on me all at once."

   "I just... wanted... I wanted to kill myself."

   "There was no way I could compete with you and the other
girls, Krissy.  No way I could compare.  I... I thought
Jeremy would lose interest in me immediately.  Why would he
look at me when he could look at Trish instead?  Devon?
Lindsay?  Would you be repulsed, Krissy, looking at me?  I
seriously thought that.  All of the insecurity I felt as a
stripper - an aging stripper - was back.  But I was not
worried about losing my career anymore.  Now, I was worried
about losing my life, my family, everyone who mattered to me.
And it was the worst, most awful feeling I've ever had."
   Kristanna shook her head, obviously amazed at learning
about a side of Pamela that neither of us had ever heard
about before.  "Why did you feel the need to COMPETE, Pamela?
To compare?  This isn't the strip club.  This is our life,
our marriage.  My God, you're you.  You're Pamela.  I love
you to the ends of the Earth and back again, no matter what.
So does Jeremy, and everyone else in our family."
   Pamela hung her head low and began to get emotional.  "I
just... that mindset, it... it was part of me, for so long.
My focus each day was not only to maintain my appearance,
but improve it.  I felt it necessary to keep my job.  That
job, unfortunately, was my life for the longest time.  My
body... I had... I had to keep it perfect as could be."
   "I love Piper so m-much," Pamela told us, the tears really
starting to flow now.  "Piper is... one of the best things
that ever happened to m-me.  None of this is an indictment on
her.  She is so sweet, so innocent, I have never blamed Piper
for anything.  I love her so much.  In some ways, Piper is my
whole world.  I am... I am so incredibly happy to have her,
to be able to raise her, to watch her grow and develop.  But
I can't... I don't want to... have a... a... an-another baby."
   "I thought you were incredibly sexy while pregnant and..."
   "Being pregnant was not the issue," Pamela interjected,
cutting Kristanna off.  "I had no self-image issues while I
was actually pregnant.  It was all after Piper was born.
From the very second she popped out, even."
   "I also thought you were incredibly sexy in the hours, the
days, the weeks following Piper's birth," Kristanna murmured.
"I never looked at you, Pamela, and saw excess weight around
your middle.  I looked at you, and what I saw was the woman I
love, my wife, having just given birth.  I watched you hold
Piper, care for her, nurture her, love her.  I watched Piper
and her well-being become the center of your universe.  And, my
God, it was one of the most beautiful things I ever witnessed."
   "I feel the most love for you, Pamela, when I see our baby
girl in your arms," I said, finally speaking up.  "Whether it
was when she was a newborn, or 15 months old like now, my heart
nearly melts every single time I see you and Piper together."
   "I know you struggled with your weight and your image," I
added.  "I know you did.  But Krissy was right with what she
said.  You are my wife too, Pamela, and that's all I saw - my
wife and our baby, and it was awesome.  I never saw any extra
weight.  I saw the mother of my child, and all I wanted to do
was hold you, kiss you, cherish you... for what we were able
to accomplish together.  What we created... our daughter."
   "Let me ask you a question, Pamela," Kristanna said,
reaching out and gently touching her face.  "You, like
everyone else in our family, have been so supportive of me
since Ariel was born last Monday.  You have hugged and kissed
me, promised me everything will be all right, hundreds of
times."  Kristanna paused, then continued, "In all those
times of hugging and kissing me this past week, Pamela,
smiling, and being overly nice whenever you see or talk to
me, have you even noticed that I have an after-baby belly?"
   "No..."
   "Of course not!" Kristanna exclaimed.  "Having Ariel was a
little different for me than it was having Kaden.  I have at
least 20 pounds to lose if I want to get back down to my old
weight.  People KNOW I was pregnant this time.  But right now?
I don't care.  This isn't a bikini contest, or a lingerie
contest at the strip club.  This is our life.  It is our
marriage.  I do not compare myself to Devvy or Amy.  I do not
compare to myself to you, or your body.  What is the point?
It's not a contest.  I know Devvy loves me, Amy loves me.
Trish, Lindsay, Scarlett, Jeremy.  I know YOU love me."
   "I'll always love you, Krissy..."
   "What about when Trish and Lindsay had their babies?"
Kristanna asked.  "Did you look at Trish and secretly say to
yourself, wow, she actually has a belly now?  Did you want
to avoid her because of it?  Did you look at Lindsay and say,
hmmmmm, she isn't 95 pounds anymore?  NO!  All you did was
want to hug and dote on them both.  You felt extreme happiness
and joy because Trish now had her boy, Jackson, in her life,
and Lindsay had Kaylee.  Trish and Lindsay are a wife to you,
and you love them.  You felt so happy for them, and still do.
You never even noticed - and still haven't - that each of them
put on some extra pounds."  Kristanna shook her head and
implored at Pamela, "What makes you think that any of us
looked ANY differently at you after Piper was born?"
   "I..."  Pamela hesitated, then simply broke down and began
crying uncontrollably.  Kristanna, as usual, was right.
   "When Piper was born, I fell in love with you even more,"
Kristanna breathed, taking Pamela into her arms and holding
her.  "Was this the whole root of your problems back then,
honey?  Postpartum Depression?  Did this all start because of
your weight, and then everything else got amplified?"
   "Yes!" Pamela sobbed.
   "Shhhhh," Kristanna lovingly consoled her, nodding her head
in the process.  "Settle down, baby.  Just settle down.  I
know you worked at that nasty place for 12 years.  I know it
damaged you mentally, it changed your outlook on so many
different things.  And I can certainly understand, in your
position, you having some insecurities - some doubt - as you
were getting older in what is a younger girl's profession.
But that's just it, Pamela.  It's in the past.  No one is
judging you in our family, appraising you, ever again.  All
we want is to love you, to spend time with you.  We want you
to be happy.  We want to make you happy."
   "Put on 300 more pounds if you want," Kristanna added.  "I
don't care.  If you were in an accident and got disfigured, I
would not love you any less than I do right now, Pamela.  I
would still want to be with you, hug you, comfort you, kiss
you.  I did not marry you because you're the hottest, sexiest
girl I have ever met.  That may have made me notice you, but
I married you - and want to spend the rest of my life with
you - because of who you are as a person, who you are inside.
What you look like has no bearing on my feelings for you any
longer, because my feelings for you have transcended that."
   "Just the same way your feelings for Krissy - your love,
your concern - has not allowed you to notice that she is 20
pounds overweight after giving birth to Ariel," I summarized,
reaching out and grasping Pamela's hand as well.
   "How could you think any of us were that shallow?"
Kristanna wondered.  "We would no longer be interested in
you, love you, because you were overweight from giving birth?"
Kristanna shook her head.  "No, I take that back.  I guess I
can understand how you felt that way.  It was because of all
those years as a stripper.  It was ingrained in you, I guess.
I still think it was wrong of you to feel that way - to even
consider we would abandon you - but maybe I can understand.
I can sympathize.  But your body isn't your calling card in
this family, Pamela.  It's your mind, your personality - you
the person - that hooks us, keeps us coming back for more."
   "I have said this many times in the past, Pamela, but I
think it would be a crying shame if you did not have at least
one more child," Kristanna continued.  "You are SUCH a good
mother, an awesome mother, for Piper.  I do not want, say 20
or 30 years from now, for you to look back and regret not
having another baby.  I don't want you to regret anything."
   "And now I learn that all along, you have resisted getting
pregnant again because you're afraid of a little extra
weight?"  Kristanna frowned and shook her head.  "To me,
Kaden was worth a thousand extra pounds.  So was Ariel.  I
had my own issues when Kaden was born.  Same with Ariel.
But it was all worth it in the end.  Any anxiety or
discomfort I felt, I just looked into their faces, and all
was well.  I love my babies so much."
   "But at the same time," Kristanna kept going, "I am not
going to ask you, or even bring the subject up, ever again.
Ultimately, having another baby is your decision, Pamela.  I
do not want to force you, or make you feel compelled, simply
because it was what I - and everyone else in the family, mind
you - wants.  Everyone wants to see you conquer this fear and
have another baby, and then have zero problems afterward.  We
know how much you enjoy parenthood.  How much you love Piper.
I remember the look on your face in the hospital right after
Piper was born and you got to hold her.  It was gorgeous.  You
never looked more gorgeous to me than that one moment.  All of
us would be there for you during every step of the way before,
during and after, if you chose to become pregnant again."
   "But I want what is best for YOU, Pamela," Kristanna nodded.
"What makes YOU happy, what makes YOU feel most comfortable.
I know you had other issues than just the weight gain that
fueled your Postpartum Depression."  Suddenly, Kristanna
seemed angry.  "And I wish we could take that FUCKING STRIP
CLUB and just erase it from your memory for good."
   "It's going to affect me for the rest of my life," Pamela
sulked.  "I was there too long for it not to.  In the early
days, I found satisfaction sometimes in the work, being able
to bring a smile to a lonely person's face, maybe a thrill at
being the center of attention.  But as I got older, the joy
vanished, and it was nothing but a job to me.  All I cared
about was my appearance, my body.  I was so insecure, so very
scared about losing my job.  I felt as if I was growing old -
much older - when in reality, I was still so vibrantly young.
That is what being a stripper can do to you."
   "It also took a toll on you physically," Kristanna frowned.
   "Yeah..." Pamela sighed.  She seemed off, agitated, but 
perhaps for good reason sharing these memories.  "On my feet 
for ten, sometimes even 12 or 13 hours straight in later years 
when hours were expanded, doing squats and wall sits in 
high-heels - it messed up my body in certain ways.  My knees 
crunch and pop when I kneel down now.  It was 12 straight 
years of high-impact, intense exercise, and it was done in 
very uncomfortable high-heels.  People don't realize how 
physically demanding being a stripper can be."
   "Why are you so nervous right now?"
   "Who said I'm nervous?"
   Kristanna smiled at Pamela.  "You keep tapping your leg 
with your fingers.  You only do that when you're nervous."
   Pamela glanced down, saw her fingers tapping her thigh,
and stopped.  "Sorry."
   "There is no need to be nervous and there is no need to be
sorry," Kristanna advised her.  "Remember, this is me here.
Jeremy is here.  You can say anything to us, Pamela.  You can
confide in us for anything.  We love you."
   "I know you do."
   Kristanna decided not to press it, nor did I.  Pamela had
made a lot of strides in this conversation.  A very guarded
and private person, Pamela had opened up to us and shared,
for the first time, her experiences as an exotic dancer in
the early years - the jealousy, the bullying, the sheer
resentment she felt from her co-workers.  How one night, the
other dancers collaborated together and continually barked 
at her like dogs as a way to upset and humiliate her.  I 
never knew something like that had happened to her until now.
How could anyone possibly do such a thing to her?
   Pamela then spoke of her fears as she got older as they
pertained to that job.  About how, even as early as age 24
or 25, she felt she may have been _too old_ to perform in a
high-end, upscale strip club.  She had been very protective
of her body and its image, its upkeep.  A hearty holiday meal
with family would invariably send her into a panicked frenzy
at the thought of having to burn off a mere two pounds.  How
difficult must it have been for her to lead such a life where
even a tiny physical blemish could cost her everything?
   "It would be kind of nice, I guess, to have a boy... a
little brother, perhaps, for... for... for Pi-Piper."
   Kristanna's face lit up like a Christmas tree at those
words from Pamela.  "Yeah?"

                           * * *

   "Well, would you look at that..." I muttered under my
breath, somewhat perturbed, a bit later that very same
afternoon as I leaned out over the railing.  They were
grilling something.  One of the workers here on the farm
had rolled in an outdoor grill from God knows where and
they were actually grilling food in this cold, blustery
weather - bratwursts, perhaps? - just outside of the gazebo.
I squinted my eyes and focused hard to get a better look.
Yet again, Alison was in the middle of them all.  I had a
pair of binoculars in the desk just a few feet away, but I
refused to stoop quite that low.  Not yet, at least.
   From the balcony just outside my second floor home office,
I had a fairly clear view of the gazebo and its surrounding
area.  I initially noticed Alison's Wednesday afternoon
gathering over a month ago.  I had heard voices and laughter
coming from that general direction and stepped outside,
wondering who it was and what in the world could be so funny.
   At first I saw good old Gerhard, the foreman, Henrik and
Espen sitting out in front of the gazebo with Alison.  The
next week, same time and same place on Wednesday, they had
been joined by at least half a dozen employees, sitting on
crates, laughing the afternoon away.  The next week I was in
Maryland with Pamela for her grandmother's funeral, but the
following Wednesday, after I had returned home, the little
group had grown until nearly every unmarried hand working on
the farm was there.  Today was no different.
   And in the middle of all those lonesome, anxious and hungry
men sat the queen bee herself.  Alison drew them easily, like
a budding flower, and every eligible man on the farm wanted to
get close.  Unlike my seven wives, those men did not view
Alison as _off limits_.  To them, she was simply Lindsay's
little sister, visiting with us for an extended period of
time.  None of them knew what was really happening behind the
scenes, with Alison wanting to transition into our family.
   Alison, in fact, once invited me to stop by for the
gathering, but I had no desire to join the crowd as they sat
and ogled her.  Honestly, I had to fight the urge to go down
there and beat the holy hell out of any one of those bastards
who tried to put the moves on Alison.  Damnit!
   "Jeremy?" I heard my father, who was visiting as well,
call out from the hallway.  I turned and quickly headed in
that direction.  If Dad caught a glimpse of what was happening
at the gazebo and saw me leaning over the balcony railing, he
would most assuredly get the wrong idea.
   "What are you doing, son?"
   Why did I feel like a young child who just got caught by
his father, red-handed, doing something horribly wrong?  I
certainly was not used to having Dad back in my daily life
again, even if just for a short time.  I stepped out to the
hallway and closed the office door behind me to greet him.
"Just getting some fresh air.  What's up?  Are you okay?"
   "I'm fine," Dad shrugged.  "I'm just wondering why you did
not go to the party."
   "Party?"
   "The one Alison is having at the gazebo."
   Huh?  How did...?  "I didn't know about any party."
   "Right," Dad returned, a light dancing in his eyes.  Dad
may have been 77, but his mind was sharp as a razor.  "Sure
you didn't.  Alison invited me, but it's a little too cold
outside right now for my tastes.  You know, I'm used to that
Los Angeles weather.  I'm sure Alison would love to have you
join her, though.  Why not go do it?  Have some fun."
   The last thing I wanted to do was be yet another bee
buzzing its way for Alison's sweet, delicious nectar.  "I'm
busy right now, Dad.  I need to work on crop and harvest
projections for the upcoming spring season here on the farm.
I don't have any time for a party.  Lots of work to do."
   "Right."  Dad nodded and turned to walk away, but then
looked over his shoulder at me.  "Oh," he then casually said
to me, "I have a pair of binoculars in the green suitcase in
my guest room.  Perhaps they would help with your... work."
And with that, he smirked and walked away.
   I pulled both hands throughout my hair.  Damnit to Hell!
I had to get a grip on this Alison thing.  It had been 11
days since I married Scarlett and on that same, fateful night,
I wound up leaving the bridal suite once she fell asleep only
to slip into Alison's room and have sex with her instead.
The constant flirting between us, the fun, little _date_ we
shared at the pier in Oslo and the kissing games we had
dabbled in during the days prior led up to the first sexual 
encounter between Alison and yours truly on the same night 
that I married my newest wife, Scarlett.  It had been a
powder keg brewing, and it definitely exploded.
   Yet with Kristanna being rushed to the hospital the next
morning and eventually giving birth to Ariel, my life had
since been full of so much chaos and turmoil.  Never mind the
fact that I had to explain to Scarlett what exactly compelled
me to have sex with another woman on our wedding night.  I
also had a sick, frightened wife in Kristanna to deal with, 
and a newborn baby in the NICU.  Kristanna had the worst week 
of her life, no doubt, but she was getting back to her normal,
cheery self rather quickly now.
   Yet poor Alison, it seemed, had fallen right through the
cracks unnoticed.  How could that happen?  I still had not
really spoken to Alison since she was pinned underneath me
on the bed 11 days ago, crying out and professing her love
for me, after I thumped her in the missionary position.
   It was difficult for me too see those drooling, lustful
men clustering around Alison at the gazebo.  She was more
than just a friend or a temporary flame to me, yet had I
made that fact officially known to her?  After our time
together 11 nights ago (which was obviously amazing), Alison
and I were caught by Kristanna, Trish and Lindsay, and then
the floodgates opened once Scarlett found out moments later.  
And with everything else that happened, I have literally had 
no discussions with Alison since.
   But I knew that Alison was ultimately mine - ripe for the
taking, even.  Was the fact that she was Lindsay's sister
still an issue for me?  A few nights ago, I eavesdropped from
the voyeur room as Lindsay and Alison shared mad, passionate
kisses in the kitchen, only for Lindsay to then bring her very 
own sister to a thundering orgasm with little more than her
right hand and its fingers.  I thought I had moved on from
the idea that they were sisters?  It did not seem to bother
anyone else in our family.  So why should it bother me?
   But was that a reason, even if I did know it myself, why I
had been holding back from Alison since our night together?  I
could spin it any way I wanted, but the simple fact was that
despite everything that happened with Kristanna and Ariel, I
had made ample time for every woman in my life except Alison
since.  That, and spending quality time with my children each
day was always my main priority.  Why exclude Alison?  Why 
distance myself from her if I truly wanted her in my life?
   I began picturing Alison as a future wife.  Perhaps Alison
and I together on our own wedding night, with Lindsay tossed
in for good measure?  Sharing a three-some with two sisters
was a thought that I was not prepared for quite yet.  But, I
better get used to it, I suppose.
   Lindsay sent me a text message 15 minutes ago, saying the
doctor cleared both her and Trish to return to full, normal
sexual activity during their trip to the medical center
earlier.  Talk about a powder keg; Lindsay had been without 
sex for well more than five weeks - since our daughter Kaylee 
was born - and there would be no stopping her tonight.
   Would Lindsay team up with Trish and spend the night with
her in a celebration of sorts - freedom from the doctor - for
both of them?  Would Lindsay invite her sister and make it a
forbidden three-some?  There was a definite mutual attraction
between both Trish and Alison.  What about me?  Where did I 
figure into the evening's activities?  Or did I at all?
   Hmmmmm... Lindsay could go all-out, even, and open herself
up to everyone in the family.  Massive, group sex sessions 
were not as common as one may think in this household; they 
were generally reserved for special occasions.  But what was
more special than Lindsay, as well as Trish, being given the 
green light to again do what they enjoy more than anything?  
That being, of course, suck cock and lick pussy?
   Still, I did not think Alison was ready for such a drastic
step like that quite yet.  She had yet to even go down on 
another girl, yet alone have sex with one.  I could not see 
her jumping into bed and throwing herself at my seven wives 
(or six since Kristanna was disqualified, because it was now
her turn on the _no sex_ ride, per doctor's orders, until 
further notice).  Plus, Alison had made it abundantly clear 
that she wanted her first girl-girl experience (where there 
was more than kisses and probing fingers) to be with her role
model in life and big sister, Lindsay.
   Whatever happened later tonight promised to be intriguing.
   When I stepped back into my office, a wave of laughter from
outside drifted into the room.  And just like that, I was 
overcome with a jealous rage.  Damnit!  All Alison was doing at 
the gazebo was sharing friendly conversation with my hired 
crew.  Why was I acting so insecure and childish about it?


                <<<- End of Chapter 12 ->>>


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"Island Fever 5: Family"

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