CHAPTER 71: The Virgin’s Summer, Part 11

“… What did Michael say? And what did you say? This is not a request. I want to know.”

I almost whisper the words, trying to speak through a throat tight and dry. I cannot meet my Master’s gaze, looking down as I speak.

“He said that... you think you are too old for me… that you will never marry me. He said that he loves me. He offered me the ring and asked that I think about it.”

“That’s better.” His voice softens. “Charlotte, look at me. Charlotte…” He takes my chin in one hand, forcing up my face to his. Listen to me. Michael is correct. I will not marry you, however I may feel about you. And I am too old for you. You are a young woman. You will still be a young woman when I am an old man.”

“I don’t care about that, Master.”

“No, perhaps not now, but you will in a few years’ time. Michael is much closer to your own age. And besides, I have been married before, in the past. It was not a success.”

“What happened to your wife, Master? You told me, when I first knew you, that you were married once, but you never said any more about it.”

He hesitates. “She left me.”

Why would any woman leave him?

“Why, Master? What went wrong?”

He grimaces, self-mockery writ large. “She couldn’t handle my... idiosyncrasies.”

“Sorry?”

“Charlotte, do I have to spell it out? I get off on slapping a woman’s ass ‘til it lights up the room, then sucking her dry as she cums. It’s not every woman that is cut out for that.”

I grin. “But I am.”

He winks. “So you are.”

The mood has lightened a bit, perhaps I can...

“But you and I…”

“Charlotte, what lies between you and I, from our very first day, was by consent only. Nothing else legitimizes the kind of relationship we have. Almost everyone we know, all the people that you and I, and Michael, have met together, in the clubs or anywhere else, understand the bond between you and me. I am your Master. But what does Michael have? He has never said so to me in so many words, but I think he feels like an add-on, a bonus extra for you. How do you think that makes him feel? He loves you Charlotte, and yet he feels like the extra guest at the party.”

He almost shakes my head, pinching at my chin.

“Do you understand what I am saying to you? Michael will never come between you and me, but he has to feel that he has a role.”

I feel a bit sick inside. How could I not have realised this? My Michael, my Golden Lover, who I was jealous over when another woman made a play for him… and he feels left out…

I hang my head. “I’m sorry, Master. I understand now. You, and me, and Michael...”

“Yes… You and Me and Michael...”

“I’ll talk to him…”

“No need. I got most of that,” comes Michael’s voice from behind me.

Face blushing scarlet… How long has he been there...?

I whirl around, flushed with embarrassment and confusion; my Master and my Lover to either side of me.

“You knew he was there,” I hiss at my Master.

He is unperturbed. “Of course I knew. I thought this should be a three-way conversation to begin with, but Michael wanted to spend some time alone with you.”

“So,” begins Michael, “where do we go from here?” His arms are folded, legs akimbo, his manner defensive. And my heart melts completely…

What a bitch I’ve been…

“Um... I think this is the starting point.” I say, reaching up for the small leather-bound box on the mantle.

I take out the beautiful ring, braided ribbons of white and yellow gold, slightly scalloped at the edges from the weaving of the metals, and place it on my finger, left hand, fourth finger.

To my surprise, it is my Master who seizes me and kisses me, but I am snatched away from him by Michael, who enfolds me, almost envelops me, kissing me as though he will never stop.

Finally, he breaks for air, then holding me by the shoulders, looks at me square on. “You will have me? You will marry me?”

“Yes, Michael. I will marry you.” And under my breath, I murmur, “My Golden Lover...”

“Oh, Charlotte. Thank you.” He wraps his arms around me, tightly, rocking me from side to side.

“And, at this point,” says my Master, “I suppose that I should say, that, now, I also have a gift for Charlotte.”

Again, I see his eyes meet with Michael’s, locking for a moment…

...?

What are they up to…?

From his pocket, my Master takes a small, leather-bound box, identical to Michael’s. As my suspicions of a conspiracy grow, he opens it, to offer me a ring, identical to the one Michael has given me, except that it is of braided yellow and red gold.

I stare at the ring in bafflement. “Master?” Then I look from the one to the other of them, and back again.

“Aren’t you going to take it?” asks Michael. “I thought it was what you wanted?”

“But how...?”

My Master speaks softly. “I will always be your Master, Charlotte, for as long as you want me. And Michael will be your husband, in the legal sense. In truth, we all know the reality. The three of us are bound, each to the others. And we, the two of us, Michael and I, ask that you wear both rings.”

I look at my Master, dumbstruck. Then at Michael, who grins and winks at me.

Hands shaking, I take the second ring, fitting it to my finger. The slight scalloping at the edges of the two golden bands fits together, and the pair sit on my finger, apparently a single piece, in gleaming red, gold and silver-white.

“You will have one husband de jure,” says my Master, softly. “but, de facto, two.”

And I burst into tears.

“Hey, Charlotte, calm down.” Michael sounds worried, bafflement in his voice. “Have we upset you somehow?”

“Just nerves I think,” comments my Master, holding me tightly. “Shhh... it’s alright. We’re both with you.”

My Master and my Husband-to-Be, stand close. “I’m okay. I’m happy. I’m happy.” I protest. Then, feeling an idiot, I rub my eyes, trying to wipe my tears.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Charlotte,” says Michael. “It’s no good at all for your mascara.”

Ah-Ah – Panda-eye alert...

“Um, s’cuse me a minute.”

I vanish into the bathroom, take a minute to compose myself, then repair my makeup. I’ve just gotta look good for the next hour or so...

For five minutes, I sit on the edge of the bath, twiddling with the pair of rings, so beautiful on my hand. What woman could ask for more?