With the arrival of the new morning, Elliott, Chianna, and Jed quietly left the bedroom so as not to awaken either Aimée or Rebel. First they returned to the bath and kitchen tailer, and showered together, which was a very sensual, and heightened experience that left all three of them quite stimulated and famished.
Elliott then immediately took over the kitchen to get ready to prepare breakfast for everyone. Chianna and Jed took directions from Elliott regarding the prep work, but they were clearly distracted by their newfound infatuation with each other.
As much as they tried to disguise it, Elliott found himself fascinated by their behaviors together. It would have been easy to become reactive and jealous. He felt very strong emotions, but as he thought about it, he realized that there was a distinct thrill, like driving much too fast at night on deserted roads.
He knew it was all too easy to misinterpret what he would have labeled as jealousy, and in the process become defensive and critical of how either of them behaved while in the throes of this crush.
Their infatuation was unmistakable, and as he observed them, he felt something of a pinch as he watched his wife and best friend doing their very best to disguise their feelings because he still remembered how she used to look at him that same way.
He was also touched by the fact that they clearly did not fear Elliott’s feelings about the way they reacted toward each other, but rather made every effort to show their mutual respect for Elliott, not wanting him to feel pain or insecurity, which they all realized was expecting a great deal.
For several months before the unannounced arrival of their new houseguests, there had been more than a little tension between Chianna and Elliott.
There comes a time in every relationship where one or the other party becomes aware that they have heard every joke, every tall tale or war story, as well as every opinion that the other is likely to express.
From that moment on, how both of them responded to this awareness will determine whether or not they make it to the next level.
Often, it is at this particular junction, or crossroad that many, if not most relationships fail. We crave experience, especially new experience that challenges our belief systems, or habitual modes of behavior.
Less solid marriages often experience a sort of mutual antagonism, where one or both members resort to nagging criticism, caustic replies and endless bickering.
Or else one or both them shut down emotionally.
Chianna and Elliott had weathered more than a few episodes that might have finished their marriage, and had been in and out of love often enough to recognize that like everything else in nature, even romantic love was subject to a waxing and waning like both the moon itself and the seasonal cycles, only on a much longer duration.
And because they had allowed each other the opportunities to explore sexual liaisons as they had presented themselves, and had been swingers long before they ever came to live at the Colony, although they tried to avoid the pitfalls of jealousy, they both knew that it was better to acknowledge their feelings than to pretend that they did not exist.
Long ago, it had been Elliott who had first broached the subject of Polyamory, and Chianna that had expressed her disdain for it. Fucking relative strangers was more like a sport than a lifestyle choice, but whenever either of them became aware of deeper emotional feelings expressed by their paramours, Chianna became reactive and jealous, or broke off her contacts with any “outsiders”.
Since coming to the colony, there had been what was more like expeditionary excursions than any real sex. Given that the community was so small, they both agreed to be sure they were both in absolutely perfect agreement before they initiated or encouraged any real frolicking.
They did, however enjoy a great deal of salacious banter and flirtatious behaviors. They figured nothing was written in stone, but caution was advised, due to the interdependence and close proximity of virtually all of the residents in one way or another.
As much as Jed prided himself in being able to enjoy both the everyday as well as the more exotic pleasures of life, he found himself in awe of how well-supplied and sumptuous Elliott and Chianna’s larder was. Fresh eggs, butter, and diary, the best bacon Jed had ever eaten, and homemade breads of exquisite quality were immediately produced as they began their preparations.
But it was the coffee and tea that really impressed Jed. The (formerly) United States of America is so vast, with almost limitless space, as well as variations in climate, soil type, and elevation that self-sufficiency within it’s borders was taken for granted…except for those conditions conducive to the cultivation of either tea or coffee.
Americans consumed both beverages with absolutely no regard for what it took to procure and import them that it was not until the Armageddon Virus triggered the initial collapse of virtually every space-age culture that it became so apparent. If one were intelligent, resourceful and ruthless enough to survive the initial apocalypse to have enough time to miss the finer things in life that such everyday commodities became so glaringly conspicuous in their absence.
So shortly before the others began to straggle in, as Jed noticed the almost cavalier way in which Chianna had produced the most delicious and aromatically seductive pot of coffee, he remarked that he literally couldn’t remember the last time he had so enjoyed this seemingly perfect beverage.
She acknowledged that they usually cut their coffee with locally produced chicory to extend their stores, but since this was proving to be such an auspicious occasion she couldn’t resist at least making the first pot this morning using their best blend full-strength, (although all three admitted that they relished such favorites as French Market (which was already made with chicory).
Elliott explained that he and his eldest son, Alex had been in Miami procuring supplies to stock their lodge out in the Everglades when the first rumblings of the fecal matter hitting the spinning ventilation device, and somehow, they had the presence of mind (and random chance) to be in the right place at the right time (and with sufficient cash) to get the entire beds of both of their trucks filled with everything from ammunition to brewer’s yeast, as well as more luxurious items such as coffee, for instance.
That first morning, with the three of them alone together, temporarily suspended in the most delicious of present moments, which they knew could only last for so long;…they could feel the portent of such a prelude, although they were all three of them in no hurry to even fantasize about taking wherever they were headed to the next level.
And that morning, as pristine as the sparkling reflections of the sun off the waves of the surf on the ocean on a perfect, clear summer’s day had not yet taken on the trappings of whatever was to follow; regardless of outcome, yet that present moment played on like a series of chromatic approach notes that, instead of reaching their resolution, played on in a panoply of ambiences, seductive turns of ambiguous polytonalities, and resonances that led them further on, regardless of what would have created tension in anyone hypnotized by the ubiquitously conventional mentalities of those more conditioned to only crave the destination, the pay-off, or just The End.
Soon, they would have an audience, once the others began to straggle in, and Heisenberg notwithstanding, it would change the atmosphere, if nothing else.
It had been one hell of a night, between the effects of the Cush, and the whiskey, and Dragon Drops after a long hot day of riding, hot showers, and a great meal, and the others had slept the dreamless dreams of the amoral, as well as the guiltless alike.
After all, it rains on the innocent as well as the guilty, and no one was quite sure where any of them stood within that spectrum, nor did they see any reason to care.
Besides, the burdens of such concepts as fear, guilt, shame, sin, sacred or profane were just the kinds of words that had helped bring about what could have easily become the end of days for all humankind.
Never before, had it been so glaringly apparent that if you open your mouth to speak, already you are wrong. Understanding is not evoked by knowledge so much as The Knowing itself.
Humankind’s addiction to Duality had led to beliefs (rather than ideas) that by their nature, invoked opposition, inviting conflict and suffering on a world-wide basis, where wealth, position, power, and privilege were even more likely to breed dissatisfaction, envy, covetousness, and disappointment to an extent that any of them would have heedlessly thrown it all away for the lust of wanting more, (or despising those who possessed it) enough to kill in the name of their God, even if it was Manna.
Like zombies smelling blood from afar, first Leigh-Anne, followed by Rebel and Aimée returned, led by the intoxicating aromas wafting from the same kitchen where the night before they had eaten, drank, and smoked themselves stupid.
“Hey motherfuckers…wassup?” Rebecca drawled as Aimée massaged her back.
“Omagod!! I smell real, fresh coffee…you’re kidding me, right?” (Leigh-Anne then added in a stage whisper to Jed) “…Can we pleeeease live here forever?”
Namaste
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent
copyright © March 12th, 2021
Fish swim with the tides, in and out of the lagoon as it empties itself, receives from, and flows back into the sea.
*ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.
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