Indecisive--An Exclusive 3T Erotica

While I consider myself to be a very stubborn, level-headed sort of person, I do have one inescapable flaw: I am overly cautious. And in some circles I have been referred to as indecisive. It does take me longer than the average person to decide the simplest of things whether it's something mundane such as what shade of lipstick to wear or harder hitting things such as what suitor I'd like to pursue and date long-term. In the same vein as dating, I was inspired to do this story. Just what would happen if 3T and a young woman were involved in a relationship, that seemed to never move on to the next level? And what would happen when said woman was faced with a blistering ultimatum?

"Indecisive"

A 3T Erotic Short Story By:

MJsLoveSlave

Sydney, Australia

Autumn, 2013

...click...click...click...

Though the hallway lay dormant, unmoving, and otherwise silent, one steady, at times rapid, at others more slowly, a single noise was repeating itself in the distance...yet drawing closer with each repetition.

...click...click...click...

At one of the hallway, a grand, curving, and sweeping staircase, crafted of marble, not quite white, but not quite cream ascended and then disappeared, meshing with the floor lying above it.

...click...click...click...

Suddenly, a hand gripped the polished, carved, opulent, Art Nouveau influenced bannister.

The hand, small, a rich brown and tipped with nails long enough to be noticed, but not so long as to be considered vulgar, all painted a deep, nude pink, save for both index fingers, sparkling with chunky silver glitter.

Stepping onto the marble landing and starting down the steps was a lone woman.

A gorgeous creature she was, tall, statuesque by some descriptions, with a generous, voluptuous figure, verging in that grey area between what constituted as “normal” and “plus” sized.

Her face, was quite arresting and pleasing to any and all who laid eyes upon it: oval and smooth, with large, piercing dark eyes, slightly slanted above a small, yet flared nose. Beneath it, large, plump lips, sparkled dully, everything accented with natural tones complimentary to her complexion.

Nothing over done, just enough to make all of her proud, African features stand out all the more for admiration.

A simple wrap dress of forest green satin transformed over her curves, barely containing an ample and pert bosom, clinging to wide hips, accentuating every inch of her hourglass form.

..click...click...click...

With each step taken in the green satin stilettos, the back of which had been adorned with placard of crystals, mimicking that on the clutch in her free hand and competing with three diamond tennis bracelets on her fine wrist, the high silt of the skirt swayed displaying a flash of toned, shimmery thigh.

Reaching the final step, the woman stumbled a bit, but managed to catch herself before she fell, her tresses, a shining raven black, smoothed and parted deeply on the left side swished around her shoulders.

At the opposite end of the hall, a set of frosted glass doors, set in a curling, swirling wood that echoed the banister.

As she neared the door, two human-shaped blobs, one in a brilliant red, the other in a vibrant blue went by the glass, on the other side and vanished from sight.

Just outside the doors, the woman paused, her head lowering with trepidation for a fleeting moment.

Then summoning courage from somewhere in the recesses and depths of her soul she laid a hand on the curved brass knob.

This had to be done.

It could no longer be avoid, put off and willfully ignored.

It had to be done.

It simply had to.

Opening the door, she slipped into the room, promptly shutting it behind her.

In front of her, a dressing room, rather plain and painted in the neither white, nor cream color, revealed itself.

Against a the wall closest to her, two guitars, one acoustic, the other electric, had been propped.

Next to them a rolling rack, containing various clothing in different degrees, of black and grey hung, waiting to be worn.

Across her the opposing wall was a bank of ten vanities, replete with lighted mirrors and director style chairs.

Only one, at the very end, was occupied.

A man, draped in a pale amber robe sat, inspecting his appearance, a small pick in hand, dutifully arranging the tuft of curls tumbling from the crown of his head.

Easing towards him, the woman watched, in silence, as the pick was set down and a large, strong hand, a few veins visible on it, dipped into a small jar, the whitish pomade inside rubbed between both, before being distributed over the curls to hold them in place.

Creeping up behind him, as he picked up a squat, black glass bottle, and removed the cap, in the shape of a Pharaoh's head, the woman geared up to make her presence known.

And instantly recoiled as, eyes shutting, the man enveloped himself in a veritable cloud of woodsy, fresh scent, heavily based with raw musk.

Achoo!

At the sound of the sneeze, the man startled, dropping the bottle and swung around in the chair, his eyes widening up at her.

His lips quivered a moment, then allowed her name to pass,

“Heather?”

Head lowering, Heather nodded, a weak, yet audible sob escaping her, only his name being uttered,

“Taj!”

Unable to speak any further, articulate herself verbally, she brought her hands up, pushing her locks behind her ears.

Revealing the large, dangling diamond and emerald earrings that had been concealed by her hair.

Jaw sagging slightly, Taj gazed at her, his eyes locked with hers several moments, before drifting to the door in the far corner of the room.

Where the two other men, in a red and blue robe, respectively, stared out at them, similar expressions on their faces.

So little had been said, but it screamed volumes just the same.

A pair of earrings... shiny rocks held together by polished metal...

Had just answered each and every question that had ever been asked.

One Week Earlier

Queenstown, New South Wales, Australia

“...autumn is upon us, and though cooler temperatures will soon reign supreme once more, don't rush to put away all those miniskirts just yet, girls. No! Deeper, more muted florals are what the very smartest dressed of women are wearing this season; and paired with a variety of sweaters, tights, leggings, boots and booties, the possibilities are virtually endless! Be bold! Be daring! Make the look your very own...”

Pacing back and forth, barefoot, across the plush, shag carpet covering the otherwise chilled hardwood beneath her, Heather Treherne examined the paragraph, scrawled hastily in her fine, swooping script, across the pale, water-colored pages of the small, lavender leather-bound journal in her right hand.

Her left clutched an ostentatious ink pen, stark white and topped by a large plume. The feather grazed her chin as she paused in the middle of her bedroom.

Tall, stunningly beautiful and with a figure most else starved towards or paid dearly to have augmented by surgical means, Heather, by all appearances could have passed for a model.

Indeed, idling beyond the foot of her bed, both Heather and her surroundings seemed more a set for a photoshoot, rather than an actual, lived-in home.

Papered in a soft peach, it was an overwhelmingly feminine room, from the delicate Lucite and beded glass chandelier dangling above her cream satin dressed bed, to the mirrored furniture, to the tiny, snow-white Pomeranian nestled in a doggie bed alongside her lit vanity, overflowing with meticulously arranged cosmetics.

Behind her, on the quilted bedspread, her laptop, its surface covered in thousands of clear Swarovski crystals sparkled and competed along with the somewhat gaudy case of her smartphone, adorned in black, hot pink, electric blue and neon yellow crystals, forming a loud leopard pattern, its upper right corner bearing a huge hot pink crystal bow.

Poised there, still pondering her next words carefully, Heather's exquisite form was kept somewhere near decency, draped in a skimpy pink and black dotted silk cami and matching boyshorts.

Shifting from one foot to the next, Heather's hair, gathered in a messy bun atop her head swayed, but did not come loose. A sleep mask, in the same fine material as her sleepwear was worn like something of a headband, to be pulled down over her eyes whenever she decided to call it a night.

(And when working towards a deadline, as she was then, a “night” usually occurred sometime after the dawn.)

Although she had declined numerous offers to model, Heather Treherne was still making her presence known in the fashion world, as a blogger.

For the last three years she had personally written and was the face of Heather's Hot Mess, a web log that documented her life, and offered the beauty forecast along with a litany of how-to hair and makeup videos.

While the site had, at first, been launched to attract other Black women such as herself, Heather had gained popularity globally, with over a million followers and devotees, of all races, being hailed as something of a beauty/fashion guru.

And by all accounts, it seemed Heather's life had indeed been an open book to her fans.

How Heather, a native of Biloxi, Mississippi in the United States—Southern accent and all—had moved to Sydney as an exchange student at the age of fourteen, where she had remained ever since.

After a stint studying journalism in university, and writing for several Aussie and Kiwi-based magazines, Heather launched her blog.

But while everyone thought they knew everything about Heather, there was one secret she held dearly and guarded as fiercely as though it were worth its weight in gold.

Perhaps it was.

Heather was known for expensive tastes, and living quite high on the hog, and while yes, she did live off a trust, her parents had set up for her back home, and from the salary she drew from her blog, most of her possessions and walking around dough came from her elsewhere.

Elsewhere being her three young benefactors.

Feather still brushing her chin, Heather crossed her room to her mirror-fronted nightstand and lifted the sterling framed portrait, mixed among a few of her parents and herself as a child to avoid drawing unwarranted attention.

Heather often shot her how-to videos in her room and didn't want the portrait of her boyfriends to be in plain view.

Examining the photo, a soft, pleased sigh escaped Heather's lips, her bosom rising and falling, as the air whooshed from her.

It was her favorite portrait of them, shot in black and white, all three of them in black and draping a black leather armchair.

The Jackson Brothers, Taj, Taryll and TJ, the handsome, witty, mildly pampered sons of Tito, whom made his fortune through a vintage luxury car restoration business, had been involved with Heather for nearly ten years.

Proud, dashing men they were, curly, dark-haired creatures.

Heather had always been crazy about men with naturally curly hair!

Sharp, sculpted features, serious, thoughtful...

They had all run across one another when the Teez, as Heather affectionately called then, had gotten lost and she had pointed them in the right direction.

And it had been on from then.

The four were tangled in a strange relationship, with the brothers regularly traveling out from their home in Beverly Hills to visit, up to two weeks at a time.

It was a free-wheeling, casual relationship that had blossomed and continued without hesitation.

And as men will do when wooing a lady, “gifts” had begun to show up out of thin air.

Though she'd purchased the house and beach-backed property herself,all of the furnishings, her car, a Mercedes-Benz, and even her dog had been tokens of... love?...bestowed by her sacred three.

And that was just what had come as a group. Every so often, items from the individual brothers would also appear.

Tracing their faces with a long, nail, painted a glossy dark grey, Heather pondered them, a smug smile curling her lips.

They did spoil her so...

But weren't men supposed to spoil their women?

Or in this case, their woman.

Beep!

The noise, so sharp in the abrupt silence, caught Heather off-guard and she nearly threw her beloved portrait in fright.

Realizing it was her phone as its screen, once darkened was now lit, her eyes rolled at her being silly over a harmless message, and she replaced the photo on its stand.

Crossing back and crawling up into her massive bed, each move she made causing her to sink several inches into the extra soft mattress, Heather found a simple text:

“Face Spot Me. Taj.”

She should have known.

Taj was the most tech-savvy of the three, keeping in touch with Heather via text, email, voice calls or in this instance, video chat. Hardly a day went by without some form of contact from him. And more sporadically, his brothers.

Quickly stacking overstuffed pillows against the headboard, she propped herself against them, pulling her computer into her lap and turning it on, taking a second to admire the same picture, set as the device's background.

So the two never got mixed up, Heather exclusively used the video calling service, Face Spotter for her men and Skype for her parents and everyone else.

And with a flew clicks, a digitized version of a telephone line ringing was trilling softly, a box taking up most the screen setting black, as the other party had to answer.

After six trills, Heather reached for her phone, intent on texting Taj back to tell him to answer.

“...even old New York...was once New Amsterdam...but why they changed it, I can't say...I guess they liked it better that way...!”

While the screen remained black, Heather's ears picked up the alternative rock music of They Might Be Giants.

A band Taj liked and had playing in the background of their chats often.

“Taj?”

Heather questioned curiously and smiled when she heard him, whisper loudly, along with some muffled thuds,

“Oh, shit!”

Something was moved and Heather was greeted with a familiar sight: the interior of Taj Jackson's master bedroom, as viewed from the top of his desk, in the far corner of the room.

The room itself was rather plain, painted a pale grey, with solid, heavy furniture in a lacquered, gleaming black.

On the far wall, a King-sizd bed was neatly made, the sheets and comforter black, white and grey plaid. In the center of the pillows, a vibrant green Incredible Hulk plush laid askew.

The only real color to the room came from the dozens of framed (copies) of superhero comic book covers lining the walls, Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The X-Men, The Silver Surfer...

You name it, Taj had read it.

And in his basement, stored away in a climate-controlled bunker, a collection of prized comics worth thousands sat to be admired, never touched, and frequently added too, as Taj Jackson's one weakness were those little graphic novels from the Golden and Silver Ages of Comics.

A weakness Taj spared no expense in indulging.

DC, Marvel, etc, etc, he had no discrimination when it came to the heroes.

But hey, where was her favorite geek?

“Taj?”

Heather repeated and the large empty leather desk chair wiggled, with a hand coming up and waving.

A hand she knew all too well: big, slightly vein-y, with a small circular scar, a few shades deeper than the rest of a light bronze complexion.

“One second, Precious...”

Out of sight, Taj's voice, soft, mild, deliberate and cultured reached her ears, and Heather's heart automatically picked up pace.

His voice never did fail to excite her.

Seconds later the owner of the voice stood, balling up a linen napkin in his hands.

He was so fetching in the plain, pale blue tee and striped pajama bottoms hanging loosely off of his thickset, strong figure, making his skin glow.

The frame bounced once more as Taj quickly sat and adjusted the screen to show the upper portion of his torso, and face.

As he turned, so that he was in profile, Heather admired his full, rounded cheeks, showing a smattering of freckles, that lent to him a youthful look years belying his nearly forty years of age, one of his prominent ears sticking out, he lifted a goblet of orange juice to his lips, drawing a deep sip, Adam's Apple quivering as he swallowed.

He lingered moment, same hand coming up and picking at the close cropped, black spirals adoring the crown of his head.

Facing the camera, for a brief instance, his face was serious and contemplative, eyes dipping at the corners and appearing a tad sleepy, under sparse, yet groomed brows.

His mouth, in a perfect little cupid's bow, was set as he reached out, the frame coming closer as he brought the computer nearer the edge of his desk.

The expression rapidly switched to one of joy as he took note of the sweet face peering back at him.

His eyes lit, tiredness vacating and his mouth, once stern, became a doting grin.

“There's my beautiful little Hershey's Kiss...”

He snickered and Heather was aware of the brief interval his eyes left her face, focusing in on her bosom, hugged by the polka-dot silk.

“...how are you, Sugar?”

His eyes returned to hers and his brows went up expecting her reply.

“I...I'm fine...”

He possessed a way of looking at her that went past her eyes and somewhere off into her soul that would leave Heather tied-tongued at times.

“How...how are you, Taj?”

“Alright...” Taj trailed off, gaze falling as he absently ran his hand along the edge of his keyboard.

“Missing you, of course.”

“I miss you, too Taj...” Heather admitted weakly, heart skipping four or five beats at a time.

“We've discussed how to remedy that problem numerous times, Heather,” He remarked, putting a hand out and coming up with a long, nearly burnt strip of bacon, crunching on it loudly.

Regretfully, her eyes dropped to her lap, with her stammering,

“I'm...I'm still not sure about all that--”

“Bro, what the HELL is this? I asked for a Caramel Latte, not Vanilla! What the fuc--”

In the distance a voice screamed, with what sounded like a door slamming.

“They ran out of Caramel!” A second voice announced just as angrily,“I told you to go down there yourself!”

“I was ass-naked in the shower! I'll be damned if I go to Starbucks, naked as a newborn! It was funny when I did it on my birthday last year, but I was drunk on Grey Goose! I ain't walking my big ass down there, sober--”

“Sweet Jesus!” Taj grumbled more to himself than her, turning in his chair to face his open bedroom door.

“Whatever! And will you close that goddamn robe? I don't need to see all your gingerbread!”

“You jealous?”

“Jealous of a Fuzzy Vienna Sausage, nahhhh!”

“Go to Hell!”

“You first, and save me a seat!”

Through the door, a figure came storming, face twisted into a scowl, going crimson in aggravation, a white and green Starbucks cup steaming in each hand.

“Here's your Venti Hazelnut Latte, with the extra shot of Espresso!” The man declared, all but slamming the cup down on the desk.

“TJ's goofy ass can remember all that, but can't think to call me to tell me they're out of Caramel! Dumbass! Dumbass! Dumbass!” He continued, placing a hand on his plump hip, through the loosely tied robe, showing a gold on gold windowpane-check pattern, accentuating his own complexion, a bit more tanned than Taj's.

He tossed his head arrogantly, the blackish brown curls on his head, still damp, with a few beads glistening.

“Excuse the hell out of me for wanting to shower. I ran for ninety minutes on the treadmill this morning and the funk was about to lay me out! Now if TJ wants to inhale the scent of my sweaty ass, and moist balls--”

“Taryll!”

Taj declared as his brother, two years his junior, tilted his unwanted Vanilla concoction to his mouth grimacing.

“What?” Taryll was unbothered, taking another sip.

And choked when Taj pointed out, frowning.

“I'm quite sure the lady doesn't want to hear about your moist balls!”

“Lady?” Taryll echoed and Taj pointed to the screen, where Heather waved.

“Heather!” Instantly he was hanging onto the back of Taj's chair returning the gesture.

“Way to start my day, seeing my Princess—Hey Baby!”

“Hi Taryll” Heather cooed and winked.

Taryll was devilishly handsome.

Taj bore a stronger resemblance to their father, while Taryll's face and features echoed that of the Teez's mother, Delores.

The cheerful hazel eyes, the sweeping, sharply arched brows, upturned nose and full mouth were distinctly his own, and went unfound on his siblings.

“Get TJ.” Taj ordered thoughtlessly, reaching back and patting Taryll's arm.

Heather started to giggle when, instead of leaving the room and fetching the youngest of the three in person, Taryll threw his head back yowling,

“Tito Joe! Get your skinny, ashy, knock-kneed ass in here now!”

“You're working on my last good, goddamned nerve this morning! If I have to take a poke at your jaw...”

The last of the trio entered, fists clenched at his sides, the only one not still in his pajamas.

Tito Joe, known as asTJ colloquially, was five years younger than Taj, and his youth showed as unapologetically as it did with his brothers

Thirty-five, and easily able to pass for twenty-five, TJ was the tallest and slimmest of the three.

Like Taj, he facially favored Tito more than Delores, but his complexion was also that of Tito, a few shades darker than his siblings, making his mixed background of Black and Latin less evident.

He was traditionally handsome, almost too handsome, with chiseled features, a fine nose and excessively thick brows over his playful dark eyes.

Thinnish lips curled back over white teeth as he grabbed Taryll's arm and started to swing him around, intent on picking up the argument where it had been left off.

“Who you calling ashy, when you put on so much cocoa butter you're like a greased hog?”

“Hog?” Taryll huffed, fists coming up. “I'll show you a hog--”

“I'll knock the Bacon Bits out yo' ass so fast--”

“You're not about to turn my room into the damn MMA!”

Throwing his chair back, Taj was on his feet, a hand on the back of the necks of each brother, yanking them apart, TJ stumbling and falling out of the screen.

“TEEZ!”

Heather cried, afraid that they'd all go to tangling right then and there. (She had witnessed it several times before.)

“Was there a point to this, or did you just want me to see a battle to the death tonight? It is after one a.m. in Sydney and I still have a deadline to meet!

“Heather?” TJ, grabbing onto Taj, pulled himself upright, peering at the screen brows shooting up at the sight of his lover.

“Buenas Dias Bonita—how do you like the good news?”

“What good news?” Heather demanded and noticed Cheshire Cat-like grins curling their mouths.

Those three sly boots were up to something...

“That's why I wanted to talk to you...” Taj announced, sitting again. “...we're coming back to Sydney...”

He paused long enough to allow Heather ample time to react happily, clapping her hands and squealing.

“You know how me and these fools are trying to get into the film production business?”

“Yeah.” Heather bobbed her head, as she was familiar with the handful of amateur films the men had shot and marketed online. They did have a decent following in the cyberworld.

“Well, we just got our biggest break yet.” Taj continued, eating another strip of bacon. “There's a documentary filmmaker who wants us to produce his picture about the Aboriginal culture 'down under'--”

“And once he heard we scored all our own pictures, he wants us to score his film too. We've already written and recorded some stuff.” Taryll butted in, before being pushed aside by TJ who added,

“We'll be playing The Flamingo Room of the Luxor Club, on Saturday--”

“When will you be here?” Heather interrupted, her mind already racing to decide what to wear to the upscale, yet highly restricted nightspot.

Whomever the filmmaker was had to be a big deal to do his partying at the Luxor, the premiere club in all of New South Wales!

“We fly out in about an hour!” Taj beamed, as more shrieks erupted. “We'll be in Sydney by about one in the afternoon your time. We're hopping a red-eye!”

“Oh my God! That's so soon!” Heather brought her hands to her cheeks in glee.

2“You bet it is!”

“And bring your appetite!” TJ commanded. “As soon as we land we're taking you to lunch!”

“Yeah!” Taj and Taryll concurred and Heather nodded jubilantly.

“It's a date!”

“We'll be flying into Queen Victoria Airport! Gate 333 coming from Los Angeles!”

“I'll be there with bells on! I love you!” Heather blew a kiss, which aas eagerly returned. “Fly safe!”

“We love you too Honey! Can't wait to see you!”

Waving, the screen faded to black the call ending.

Feeling warm and tingly all over, Heather tucked her arms behind her head, looking over at the dog sleeping across from her.

“Well, well, well Wolfie...” She commented softly. “...your daddies are coming back and before this over, we'll be having it out again...we always do.”

* * *

Several Hours Later

Queen Victoria International Airport

REWORK THE BOYS ARRIVING!

“...Flight 9155 from Los Angeles is now landing...Flight 9155 from Los Angeles is now landing...”

Pressed against the huge, tinted glass window that overlooked the expansive, rolling cement runway, Heather Treherne was doing her very best to compose herself.

It was a difficult task, as only a few hundred yards away, the tremendous Boeing 747, with the American flag printed on its tail, was slowly taxiing towards the long white tube that would connect the plane to the terminal and allow the passengers to walk across to Gate 333.

In only a few moments, Taj, Taryll and TJ would step off that jumbo jet and back into her life!

Hands clenched together over her bosom, each breath staggered and erratic, Heather turned, eyes seeking out the shut door leading to the tube, waiting for it open at any second.

A small crowd had gathered on either side of the door, mostly comprised of your garden variety of spouses, children and extended family.

As per usual, in a sea of denim and cotton tees, Heather stood apart from the crowd.

While others had dressed more for comfort than anything else, Heather Treherne, true to form, had dressed to impress.

And surely, every so often, a passerby would give her a head to toe glance as they went about their merry way.

Having taken her own fashion advice in regards to the wearing of dark florals, Heather wore a short, flouncy black skirt, printed over with large white rosettes. A thin, ribbed, boat-necked white sweater clung to her, making her figure the focal point above all else.

Impatiently, a foot, clad in a black leather bootie, it's heel stacked and clear, tapped against the tiled floor.

Swaying back and forth the wide, polished white-gold of her cuff bracelet reflected light, as did the matching button earrings, just barely peeking through her hair, arranged in a huge mass of carefree, beachy waves.

In a last minute attempt to assure her entire look struck the note she wanted, Heather pulled the small, striped clutch from beneath her arm and whipped out a gold compact, giving her make up a sweeping once over: the silver shadow, the winged liner, the touch of blush, and the clear, sparkling pout.

Perhaps her false lashes were a bit too dramatic in hindsight, but it was too late to yank them off now, nor would she. The lashes were made of genuine mink, cost into the hundreds and she had glued her eye shut that morning applying them. The lashes would remain.

Hiss!

The very few hairs not attached to Heather's head rose in anticipation as the hydraulic lock on the door unlatched, and was slowly swung open by a stewardess in a blue uniform.

“Thank you choosing American Airlines...we hope you enjoyed your flight...”

She smiled, repeating the phrase intermittently, as weary travelers began to trickle off and were greeted by their prospective parties.

Rising up on tiptoe, as if that single action would cause the fliers to exit the plane any more swiftly, Heather squinted, her eyes searching for any and every one of her“Teez”.

Her breath caught in her throat as a lone man came sauntering off, head lowered, as he thumbed after the lit screen of his white-gold encased smartphone, vaguely removed fro, his surroundings.

In her striped clutch, several pings from her own phone, tucked away, were muffled, messages of a safe landing flooding in.

He may have looked a tiny bit peaked, his grey hoodie, maroon tee and baggy jeans mildly rumpled from the trip, but Heather knew that tall, broad shouldered gent anywhere.

“Taryll!'

At the sound of his name, Taryll, who had started away from her, continuing to pick at his phone whirled around, hazel eyes going emerald with rapture.

“Heather!”

Arms spread, he sprinted at top speed towards her and in seconds they were bundled against one another, with him squeezing tightly, lifting and spinning her, laughter escaping him..

Heather's feet had barely found the ground when Taryll's hands, soft and smelling lightly of his spicy cologne, were cradling her face, lips smashing hers openly, shamelessly, sweetly.

His mouth was everything Heather had remembered, thought of, and dreamt about each time she'd laid her head down to sleep: tender, moist, tasting loudly of spearmint.

“Oh my God! Baby, it's so good to see you! Oh God, how I've missed you!”

Taryll mumbled pecking her cheek, embracing her even harder, with Heather able to feel his heart pounding in his chest like a three-mile drum.

Could he feel hers?

Finally releasing her, Taryll took a step back, phone up to take a photo.

“Look at you...Beautiful Baby...smile for me....” He murmured and posing, hand on her hip, a small shutter noise echoed, with Taryll coming forward, smooching her rouged cheek a second time.

He wore his emotions so plainly, the joy on his face causing his skin to glow from within and he was so attractive, it was nearly painful!

“I can hardly contain myself, you look so good...fucking sexy...” He whispered heatedly, lips on her flesh once more, cheeks flushing violently.

“You look good too--”

“Bella!”

A voice shouted her Spanish pet name and she was scooped up, gripped against TJ Jackson's warm body, dressed in a plain black sweatsuit.

“Pretty Girl...” Was all he got out before his mouth found hers.

His kisses were brisker, more frenzied, tasting sharply of cinnamon.

“Let me look at you!”

His hands squeezed hers, fingers intertwining, as he leaned back giving her an all over look, lips sucking in, his bushy brows up, eyes wide, the golden flecks typically hidden in them catching the light.

He was so boyishly handsome.

“I feel like I'm dreaming...” TJ cooed, pulling her against him and nuzzling his cheek to hers.

“...all I could think about was being with you again...and now I am...”

“Dreams do come true...” Heather started, and trailed off.

From a short distance, she was being watched.

Lingering behind TJ, looking on at the scene unfolding was Taj.

Much as it had been the night before, his face was set and stoic, with him peering out at her from beneath the brim of the plain black ball cap covering his curls, and clashing with the navy hoodie and jeans he wore.

Letting go of TJ, patting his chest absently, Heather regarded Taj a long moment.

Taking in his round-cheeked face, the light smattering of freckles on his left cheek.

Slowly, he approached her, intense gaze never breaking.

How could one man look so calm yet so dangerous at the same time?

It never failed to perplex, and unnerve Heather.

Yet, the stare intrigue d her for some reason.

Taj was a strange, intriguing man...and Heather liked that.

Perhaps she did get something of a kick out of how he managed to frighten her at times.

With her wearing heels, Taj fell a few inches shorter than Heather, but that didn't stop him from raising up, eyes peering not only into, but through hers.

Their lips met.

Unlike his brothers who had shut their eyes kissing her, Taj's remained open, consuming her as his mouth did.

His manner was calm, unhurried, his mouth reeking of peppermint.

When he did pull back, her bottom lip stretched as he sucked on it, popping wetly.

He stared a moment longer, tongue gliding between his lips, dampening them.

Are you ready to go?” He questioned darkly, eyes going over her figure resting on her bosom.

“Y-y-yes, um...” Heather glanced over the trio, and aside from their phones—TJ was obviously shooting her backside with his, gleaming black and embossed with his initials—they carried nothing else.

“Don't you guys have any luggage?”

“It's already at the hotel, The Widmark...” Taryll spoke up, taking one of her hands, while TJ grasped at the other, pulling her along.

“Swanky place.” Heather snickered, falling in step with them.

Both of Taj's hands, pressed her waist from behind, all three of her men touching her in someway.

“Only the best, of course.” TJ beamed down at her, lips curling into a Joker-esque smile. “Wouldn't dream of anything less.”

“You're sounding stuck up...” Taryll pointed out as the escalator to the ground floor came into view.

“Better than the sound of me sticking my foot up your ass--” TJ growled, then remembering who he was with, looked down and smiled.

“The Widmark has an excellent restaurant, Nosh...we're taking you to dinner there.” He completed his initial thought, bending and kissing her smooth forehead.

“We're gonna jump in the shower and change into something more complimentary. Can't take our girl out in jeans and sweats.” Taryll chimed in, in agreement, chuckling.

“I know that's right!” TJ agreed, wiggling his brows. “Have to do it up right!”

Glancing back over her shoulder, as the foursome stepped onto the escalator, Heather observed Taj, and found him still as stone, staring back at her, mouth puckered in consternation.

She knew exactly what caused him to look so contrary, and it wouldn't be very long before she heard why, either.

Two Hours Later

Bistro de Nosh

Twirling the long, thin straw sticking out from her Rosemary Meyer Lemon Gin Fizz, the last thing on Heather's mind was getting a citrusy buzz.

Staring at the still vacant chairs pressed against the intimate round table, a single low candle flickering for ambiance, Heather's mind was on the oldest of her Jacksons.

He'd barely spoken a word to her since his arrival, but he didn't need to.

His face had shown all too well what had been on his mind.

For years, Taj Jackson had had a single idea about Heather and it was only a matter of time before the sordid topic reared its ugly head. It was generally the reason that drove Taj flying back to California, his brothers in tow, amid flaming ugly words, worse attitudes and on occasion, tears.

Taj was quite stubborn and for a man who spent four decades rarely hearing the word “no” uttered in his direction, couldn't handle the concept.

But once tempers had cooled, just as they had this time, he always would return...

“Hey, Sweet Cheeks...”

A voice stated from behind her, and stooping, TJ, followed by Taryll smacked after her mouth, pulling out the chairs catty-corner to her, each holding a beverage.

Both men were dressed down, in all black, with tees, trousers and coats, Taryll's a blazer and TJ's a sportier jacket of leather and knit fabric.

“Hi...where's Taj?” She wondered sensing the impending doom.

“At the bar. He got a martini like us, but the doofy bartender dropped it. Making a fresh one for him.”

TJ picked up the tiny sword adorning his drink, which a green olive and pearl onion had been skewered through, plucking them off with his teeth.

“Did you get the text to order the food ahead?” Taryll patted at her bicep.

“Yes...steaks and all the trimmings--” She was cut off as Taj, black as his siblings, but wearing a boxy leather jacket, leaned around, kissing her.

The cap had been removed, his curls shining with pomade, a few draping his forehead, as he took the last seat, directly across from her.

“Your drink okay? Want to cover it in bubble wrap this time?” Taryll snorted poking at Taj's glass, garnering only a rolling of the eyes.

“Want to take out an insurance policy, Bro--”

“Four Kobe Steaks, three medium, one medium-rare, all with Grilled Brocolini Hollandaise and Pancetta Gouda Hasselback Potatoes, who gets the medium-rare?”

A waiter, pushing a small cart arrived, plates exuding wisps of fragrant steam.

“The one still mooing is for me!” Taryll cackled, clapping his hands blissfully as the meals were divvied up.

“Here you are, Sir.”

“Thanks!”

Silence permeated the group as silverware collided with fine china.

“Let me, Baby Doll...”

Reaching over, TJ began cutting up Heather's steak into manageable cubes while Taryll's fork and knife invaded slicing her Brocolini.

Heather sat back, smiling in spite of herself.

They did spoil her so.

As the two sets of hands worked, the last set extended, a long, thin gift-wrapped box perched on the fingertips.

“You...have a birthday coming up, don't you?”

Taj inquired, brows raising, mouth showing a smile for the first time since he'd landed.

“Next month--Oh, what is it?” Heather tittered, examining the glossy, magenta paper affixed with a huge white bow, as Taj produced his phone, emblazoned with the Superman logo in black diamonds on a white enamel background.

He aimed to capture her reaction, as he so often did when bestowing gifts on her.

“Open it and see!” TJ urged, stealing a bite of her streak as Taryll rested his cheek on his chin, watching.

Paper was hastily torn away, revealing a black velvet box, that with a small click, opened and caused Heather's shiny mouth to drop in awe.

“My God...You didn't have to do this!”

She gasped, reaching in and plucking a pair of dangling, diamond accented emerald chandelier earrings from the box.

“I...I love them...thank you.”

Standing she went around the table hugging and kissing them.

“We knew you didn't care for your own birthstone—I like opals myself...” TJ shrugged, having a swig of martini, “...but it only seemed right to give you jewelry for your birthday.”

He took her hand in his and traced the top of it with his fingertip.

“It's not everyday you turn twenty-eight--”

“Twenty-six.” Taryll corrected him calmly as Heather closed the box, resuming her eating, with her left hand as TJ continued to hold her right.

“Taryll shut the hell up.” TJ intoned flatly, eyes leaving Heather's pleased visage and focusing on the smug one of his brother.

“I think I know my own girlfriend's age! She'll be twenty-eight--”

“Twenty-six, TJ” Taryll snorted sprinkling salt on his vegetables.

“Quit bullshitting!” A hand slapped the tabletop, causing all of the stemware to tinkle and rattle. “Heather was born in eighty-five--”

“Eighty-seven.” Taryll was now outright grinning at his brother's blatant ignorance, and Heather was doing her best to conceal her giggles.

TJ stole a glance at Taj, who chose to wisely stay out of the fray and was pushing a hunk of pink-centered beef into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

His eyes remained on Heather.

Had they ever left her?

“...I know Heather's damn age!” TJ, cheeks darkening as his temper began to fail, threw his hands up, voice dropping for secrecy,

“The first time...we...” He hesitated, gaze darting to her, “...we...did...IT...was on her eighteenth birthday...”

“And you're still wrong as two left shoes, Tito Joe!” Throwing his head back, Taryll crowed at the ceiling.

Pulling the pearl onion off his sword, Taryll threw it in the air, catching it in his mouth, gold and green flecks in his eyes flashing as he focused on his sibling.

“Now sit still, and listen to a history lesson, little bro...” He chortled. “Now you remember how we first met Heather. Bringing that old Bugatti Pops had restored for that dude to give to his wife as a wedding present...first time we'd ever been in Sydney and we got turned all the way around--”

“We got lost.” Taj corrected him, eating more steak, and Taryll grimaced at him.

“Anyway, we didn't have GPS, sitting in a car made in the forties, and then Heather went by in her school uniform...” A dreamy look came to Taryll's face and Heather knew he was remembering her as she had appeared ten years prior. “...and she was sweet enough to point us in the right direction.”

“But not before you could ask for my phone number and where my dorm was located!” Heather teased, reaching and pinching his cheek.

“Hey, I move fast, what can I say?” Taryll beamed, shrugging, returning the pinch.

“Alright, I know all that!” TJ gnawed on a hunk of brocolini, bridge of his nose wrinkling. “She was eighteen! 'Cause while we were laid over a few days, Heather got Mercedes from her folks as a graduation present--”

“You really are as ignorant as you look!” Taryll crowed some more. “Heather got a graduation present—in the middle of a semester?”

His hand was up and he smacked TJ on the back of the head. “Anyone home? We were here two years AFTER that for her actual graduation! That car was for her sixteenth birthday, Dumbass!”

“Oh Lord...” Eyes swelling, TJ mumbled, a hand coming to his forehead, realization hitting him like a freight train. “...you mean, I got some jailbait booty?”

“Yes!” Taryll hooted slapping his shoulder.

“Well how the hell was I supposed to know?” TJ tried to defend himself. “Girl walking around all cute and curvy and built like she was! Well, it's too late now--”

More laughter erupted.

That is, save for one.

Taj was silent, martini to his mouth, eyes peering at her from over the rim.

“What's the matter, Taj?”

Heather inquired and immediately regretted opening that Pandora's Box.

The glass was set down.

“You know.”

“Taj, please...” Heather begged, all the fun of the moment dissipating, her eyes dropping down to her plate. “...you haven't even been in town for three hours, yet!”

“I really don't care, Heather.” Taj retorted, forking a piece of gooey potato into his mouth. “I'm going to keep on asking until I hear what I want to hear: You agreeing to come back to California with us! I've been asking and you'll keep hearing me ask until I hear you say yes!”

Slumping in her seat, Heather threw her napkin onto the tabletop, pouting,

“What's so wrong with me wanting to stay in Australia? I've lived her since I was fourteen! It's ,y home--”

“You're damn near twenty-six! Don't you think it's time you move to a new place? Get some new scenery in front of you?” Taj leaned forward, chin sticking out, eyes narrowing.

“You can't stay in one place forever!”

“Bullshit—yes you can!” Heather scoffed, glowering back at him. “You were born and raised in California, Taj! You still live there--”

“No! No! No!” Taj shook his head violently, curls swaying. “Every couple of months I fly out here and spend two weeks at a time! I put the brakes on my life in California—the production company, whatever film I'm shooting, promoting the film, helping Pops with his restoration business, everything in my life—all for you, Heather. I drop everything for you! I pack up and fly halfway around the world for you!”

The chair squeaked as Taj shoved his chair back, standing and stalking around the table towards her.

“Bro...” TJ warned quietly, eyes glassy as Taj passed behind him. “Don't do this, not in public, man!”

“Shit!' Taryll concurred, holding his forehead with one hand, the other pinching at the bridge of his nose in anguish.

Taj loomed over Heather, his ears growing crimson, jaw tightening, eyes swelling in their sockets.

“I fly my plump ass over here to Australia because my hard-headed, spoiled little girlfriend won't consent to the one thing that will make me happy!” He snarled, hand on the table as he leaned closer to her, chest brushing her shoulder, part of the zipper on his opened jacket snagging her sweater.

“I do everything for you, I'd like the same consideration every once in a while, Heather Grace--”

Did he really have to cal by bother her first and middle names?

Heart fluttering, Heather stared ahead, quipping saltily, calling him by his real first name,

“No one held a gun on you, Tariano; you didn't have to come.”

His lips brushed her earlobe as he replied icily,

“Maybe I won't come back, then.”

Mortified, Heather turned in her seat to gape at him.

“Taj--”

“When was the last time I told you how beautiful you were?”

Taryll, brushing past his sibling, still scowling, asked, kissing Heather and twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

Focusing on the handsome, tanned face beaming at her, Heather winked, teasing,

“Not in the last fifteen minutes!”

Across from Taryll, TJ leaned back in his chair, making a show of rubbing his hands together, light bouncing off the yellow-gold Rolex circling his wrist, moistening his lips seductively, eyes showing the devil in them.

“Our plates are almost empty...” TJ said to no one in particular. “Don't you think it's about time we get our hands on some dessert....?”

His eyes traveled over Heather, a brow going up suggestively,

“I'm in the mood for some chocolate.”

“You too? My sweet tooth been throbbing since I got here!” Taryll's expression became easy and lax, his arousal starting to reveal itself, color tinting his cheeks.

“Mine's been throbbing since before we left LAX...” TJ admitted reaching into his jacket and coming out with a gold card.

“Waiter, check please!”

As the waiter approached, small booklet containing the damage for the gourmet meal in his hand, Taryll rose, hand out to Heather, but addressing Taj, who remained with his mouth twisted, brow furrowed.

“Are you really going to be stubborn as a mule and let it ruin a good time?”

Taj growled deeply from his chest, but said nothing more, that is until Taryll exposed him in a single statement.

“Oh... okay...” Taryll rubbed thoughtfully at the cleft in his chin a moment.

“You're on hush-mouth right now, but all during the flight, you acted like you couldn't shut your mouth about Heather. Talking about how pretty she looked on Face Spotter. How you couldn't wait to touch her, hug her, kiss her...How this, how that! Get the stick out your ass! You've been aching for her as badly as me and TJ!”

Taj's smokey eyes bulged with what looked to be complete murder in them at his sibling, but he managed to keep a hold on his tongue while he turned maroon from his hairline to where his chest met the neckline of his shirt.

“Check's paid...” TJ announced joining them, hand sliding across Heather's backside through her skirt, chin resting on her shoulder.

“We gonna go on up, or is Taj still pitching a hissy fit?”

Folding his arms, Taj gave the appearance of standing his ground, but Heather had known Taj Jackson entirely too long to buy into that ruse.

Plus she knew just what it took to unravel him.

Sidling up to him, Heather let her eyes wash over his face, the frowning, otherwise becoming visage and reaching, she took hold of his ears in each hand, gently stroking the cartilage of his lobes.

At her touch, his breathing became audible and heavy.

“What floor are you staying on this time?” Her eyes ran up and down him like a searchlight.

There was something so admirable about Taj when he was perturbed.

Hand coming up and gripping at his chest through the silk of his tee, a sign his nerves were wavering, Taj replied duskily,

“Thirty-first.”

“Then, shouldn't we be on our way?” Heather purred, thin brows raising. “You can't wait,...and guess what? I can't wait either...”

Plucking both his ears, she turned to leave, looking back over her shoulder at him expectantly as she went.

“Jesus Christ, that girl knows how to turn a man on!Damn!”

She heard Taj groan, and the scurrying of feet after her as she left the restaurant and moved across the rolling sea of plum and gold marble of the lobby towards the bank of brass fronted elevators, pushing the Up button.

“Hope like all hell I can make it...” TJ commented and in the reflection of the door, Heather saw he was already removing his jacket, revealing his taut, toned arms in a short-sleeved shirt.

Taking advantage of the fact Taj stood directly behind her, Heather reared back, bumping her backside against his groin.

And found a certain protrusion greeted her.

“Tariano! You're hard--”

Taj's hand clapped over her mouth and he leaned forward, lips on the back of her neck, giving her chills.

“Shut up...please....”

Heather smiled into his palm, watching the numbers light overhead as the elevator descended.

Ding!

All four straightened as the doors opened and several people exited, leaving the rectangle, papered in more plum and gold, like the lobby, empty.

No sooner has the last occupant come off than the four darted on, Taryll mashing the button for the thirty-first floor.

“Damn this...” TJ hissed, his arm looping Heather's waist from behind, allowing her to feel the swelling emerging from his crotch. “I can't wait any longer!”

Moving her head to the side as TJ attempted to kiss her, Heather pointed,

“Camera.”

Sure enough, sticking out from the upper most corner of the cubicle, a black camera hung, its round lens trained on them.

“Camera?” With his free hand, TJ grabbed the device and turned it so it faced the wall, leaving all of them out of view. “I don't give a shit about a camera!”

His jacket fell to his feet as he let go of it, arms wrapping Heather's waist tighter, jerking her back against him, his bulge obvious as he rubbed against her ass.

A hand clutched at her throat, bringing her head back, lips colliding with hers, tongue, warm and moist, pressing deeply into it.

Heather, growing heated, threw a hand back, caressing his long neck and mussing his thick jet curls.

She had been without him for so long...

Too long.

Far too long.

His touch, the scent of cologne...

“I want some of that.”

Taryll was suddenly in front of her, pulling her free of his younger brother, moving so hastily, he slammed her against the back of the elevator causing the entire chamber to sway.

“You beast!” Heather tittered, throwing her arms around his neck, purse dropping, pulling him down on her, plunging her tongue into his mouth, Taryll lifting the back of her skirt, exposing her cheeky striped panties.

His fingertips sank into her sinewy, rounded flesh, mashing both cheeks in his strong hands, tugging upwards so hard, Heather was brought on tiptoe by the action.

“Love this sweet, sweet ass!” Taryll confided through grit teeth, putting his inflamed lips to her neck, sucking loudly.

Handing onto his broad shoulders, TJ's hand invading her thigh, while he watched Taryll assaulting her throat, Heather noted one member of the party not participating.

Taj hung back, against the doors of the elevator, head slightly lowered, staring at the spectacle before him. His forehead puckered and his lips held in a tentative, set line.

“Tariano!” Heather called, flagging at him over Taryll's shoulder.. “Don't you want me?”

His right hand falling to the distinctive outline in his trousers, rubbing absently, Taj inhaled, his eyes shutting,

“Yes...”

His free hand slapped the control panel and the elevator jerked, with them continuing on their way to the thirty-first floor.

Crossing to her, he pushed Taryll aside, taking her arm, and draped it around her shoulders.

“..but I'm not starting something I want to finish in this sardine can.”

Kissing her cheek, he lifted her easily, cradling her in his arms.

Going up the last few floors, TJ stooped retrieving the jackets and handbag, Taryll running a finger around her left knee.

Seconds later the bell chimed, the door sliding open and hanging onto Taj, his breaths warm and sweet against her face, Heather was carried out into the long, silent corridor, Taryll and TJ in tow.

Within moments, the door to Room 3121 opened....

...and a frenzy commenced.

No sooner had the door shut behind the four of them, Heather found herself besieged.

Hands, mouths, they were all over here.

She could barely keep track of whom was where the first few minutes.

Clothing ripped, flew and fell as freely as rain droplets all over the front foyer.

A shirt here, a pair of satin boxers there, a brassiere hurled into the air...

In the blink of an eye, Heather was nude, as were her three lovers.

Tucking her hands behind herself, Heather took a few steps back, leaning against the spine of the beige divan in the center of the open living room, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously.

Observing the trio of carnal delights in front of her.

TJ, slouching against the shut doors of the room, hands on his hips, the most toned of the bunch, shifted from one leg to the next. One hand on his hip the other wrapped around the huge girl springing from his loins, pubic hair trimmed down to a bare “landing strip”

His flesh a deep, brilliant Nutella-brown was already starting to show a sheen of sweat, though the room was heavily chilled, as evidenced by how his deeper nipples stood at attention off his pecs.

To his right, Taryll, noticeably thicker with a bit more weight than his brother, was rounded in all the right places, from his widened hips to his broad shoulders, his waist witting down between the two.

Growing rosy all over, Taryll had his head lowered, both hands around himself, exploding from a cloud of curls that showed black with dark highlights, as his hair, stroking, strong hands gliding up and down the veiny shaft, it's loud pink tip wagging.

Taryll was a touch hairier than both his siblings as thin masses of fur showed on his chest, arms and legs.

And Taj...

Heather's breath caught in her throat, as Taj, shaped very much like Taryll, but smoother as he took the pains to shave any hair not attached his head, legs or nuts away.

He had his hands up and further down his body, his cock, rock-solid and pointing to the ceiling, bobbing with each step as he approached her.

“...Baby...” He huffed into her face, his nose bumping hers as his mouth took over, sucking mercilessly on hers, his hands first finding their way onto her large, pert breasts, kneading them.

In a fluid sweep, Taj put his hands under her arms and lifted her so that she sat on the edge of the divan, her legs resting on either of his hips.

“Taj....Taj....Taj, please....” Heather murmured, his mouth tracing her jawline, hands under her buttocks, spreading them.

More hands came in for a landing as Taryll and TJ, climbing on to the couch behind her, fondled her body, Taryll's on her bosom, pinching the nipples, sending waves through her and tingles the length of her spine, TJ snickering, one of his fingers disappearing between the round cheeks.

“Oh my God...!”

Heather cried, Taj putting his hands on her shoulders, giving her an abrupt shove.

But she did not fall, as she was caught by TJ and pulled down into his arms on the couch, smothered in another kiss, while Taryll busied himself pecking the searing flesh between her breasts down to her dimpled belly.

As he pecked, Taryll took her hand, placing it not on his penis, but under it so she cupped his fuzzy “coin purse”.

TJ bent over her, one of those little chocolaty nips in her mouth, his hands grazing her sides.

“Yes, girl....yes, Heather...oh girl....” He mumbled tongue flicking against one of her globes.

It was all maddening, the sensations....feelings she had been without.

Feelings she had needed.

In the midst of such activity, Heather felt a weight near the opposite end of the couch.

A hand took the base of her spine, raising it just far enough for one of the fringed, decorative throw pillows to be slid beneath it.

Grabbing TJ by the neck, Heather pulled him away, and gazing over Taryll's still bobbing head, she found Taj resting on his knees, eyes downward at her little slit.

Holding up his hands with only his index fingers extended, he slowly parted them, the grin on his face verging on the maniacal, as Heather, used to the gesture and its meaning, took her own sweet time putting her legs up in the air, parting them.

Taryll paused, laying his head on her chest looking on, while TJ, wiggling his fingers ran his fingers from her chin to her forehead, playfully tapping her face.

Heather found a strong hand on each leg as the younger of the three Jackson brothers gripped one, Taryll's mouth finding her calf and sucking on it.

There was a tense moment of silence, Taj paused, hand to his chest eyeing not her, but her little triangle, tongue darting around his lips.

He them hunched down, his arm curling and parting the tender pink and brown folds.

“Ugh, God!” Heather squealed, burying her face in TJ's chest, hands to her face, Taj's tongue, dam and slightly rough starting to dash around. “Oh God...Taj!”

“I know, girl...I know...” TJ commented, kissing her forehead.

“I knew he was gonna do that. Spoke about it all on the plane...” Taryll cackled, as Taj's head began to go up and down, his tongue swiping around Heather's little triangle and flopping inside of it without shame, producing a slurping noise.

“He always breaks his ass to eat her out first!” TJ was laughing into Heather's forehead.

“Taj—no, Taj, wait! Please!” Heather begged, going ignored as his nose bumped against her, her hand tightening around the back of TJ's neck, her eyes squinching shut.

God, his tongue, h was mashing flush against the little bulb!

“Taj!”

Starting to buck from the sudden sensation, Taryll lost his grip on her leg, but TJ reached forward holding both of her legs open for his brother, as Heather covered her face with her hands.

“I love watching her get wild. Sexiest thing! She always jumps around when it's getting good!” Taryll chortled patting her cheek warmly.

“Taj...don't do that! Taj! Tariano! Damn, it Taj!”

She cried dropping her hands in shock, Taj's lips curling around her clit, sucking on it brightly.

In a brief instant, she looked down her body at Taj.

He was staring at her.

Staring directly at her.

His nose pressed flush to her pussy the rest of his face hidden, only his eyes truly visible.

Watching her as he kept on with his fervent, manic licking of her tiny hole.

The gaze was broken as Taryll took her face and tilted to the side, where he had his engorged dick poised and ready to go into her mouth.

“Tar--” The end of his name was muffled as the meat was pressed forward, Taryll holding her face still, thrusting his hips at her, effectively fucking her mouth.

“Oh....oh yeah...like that...like that... yes...blow me...blow....blow me...” Taryll, his head lowered, eyes, narrow slits in his head, teeth grit urged her, fingers brushing her cheek.

TJ was remarkably quiet, to say he'd been so eager earlier, only holding her legs and observing his elder siblings enjoying themselves.

With a loud pop that nearly deduced her to tears, Taj yanked his mouth from her, a long trail of saliva dangling before breaking and plopping on his chin.

Taj's lips were on Heather's inner thigh.

Eyes boring holes in her.

Then he was on his feet, behind Taryll.

“My turn...” He told his sibling and with a mild look of scorn, Taryll withdrew himself from Heather's mouth, rubbing the wet mass.

Heather's arm was grasped and she was pulled up onto her feet.

“Naughty girl....” Taj taunted, brows raising. “...look what you're doing. Let me nibble all on your little snatch...”

“Taj...please...” Heather begged, before she was swallowed up in another kiss, Taj's fingertips bumping around between her legs.

Wrestling against him and the feeling he was providing, the pair spun.

Behind Taj, on the couch, Taryll sat, in his own world, a leg up on the cushions, eyes shut with his head back, humming in a low, steady tone, a soft squishing noise emitted as he played with himself.

TJ was in her eye line for a split second, then was gone.

His presence was made known though as his face collided with his backside.

“TJ!” She reared back just long enough to shout his name, feeling his tongue sliding along her buttocks.

Taj's hand, tangling in her hair, forced her lips back onto his for another smoldering peck.

TJ was on his knees behind her, hugged to her, kissing away at her ass.

“Booty....this booty... loves the booty...”

TJ, overcome was speaking to the walls.

Heather's mouth was yanked from Taj's and his eyes burned into her with a foreign intensity, like nothing she'd seen before.

“I want to fuck you.”

“Ow...” She gasped, feeling TJ sink his teeth into a cheek.

“May I fuck you?” Taj inquired, eyes growing with sex-crazed insanity.

“Y-y-yes...” Heather stammered and it was all the goading Taj Jackson needed.

Had she ever refused him?

Any of them?

He flopped back onto the couch, pulling her with him.

“Come...come on.... get on me.... you know you want...you want to...”

Taj hissed, holding himself upright, eyes locking with Heather as she started to straddle him.

Less than a foot away, the squishing Taryll was doing at first slowed then stopped altogether, his head coming down, eyes glowing green on Heather.

He licked at his lips, nostrils flaring with wanton.

TJ's hands were on her hips, helping to move the hourglass figure over Taj's cock.

“Ah!” Heather gasped, as she came down, the weight of her body propelling Taj's full length into her inner most folds, stretching around him almost painfully.

“Hmmmm....” He groaned head falling back. “Just as tight as the first time...”

His eyes opened, focusing on the ceiling, he added with a note of determination,

“I'm going to make you cum all over me...”

His arms wrapped Heather and she placed her head on his shoulder, awaiting the pounding she knew was to come.

Her eyes flew open when she felt a weight on her back, the cushions around Taj depressing as TJ started to balance himself behind her.

“Oh! Oh! TJ!” She gasped trying to sit up and was immediately pulled back down by Taj.

“TJ! NO! NO! OH MY GOD!”

She shrieked as TJ mashed his way into another hole one just as tight but far rarely used than the one his brother was plugging.

TJ's arms were on either side of her, holding onto the back of the couch to keep him from falling.

“You know you love it...” TJ accused, kissing at her neck, laying himself against her.

There was the calm before the storm.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Simultaneously, Taj and TJ were ramming into her.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ugh! Ah! Ah! Ah!” Heather cried into Taj's neck, both frightened and delighted at the duo of sensations ravaging her.

“Aw shit....hmmm.... Yes! Yes! You're so good! You feel so good! Goddamn, I'm gonna bust it in no time!” Taj shouted at the ceiling, causing Heather's ear to ring.

“I'm all in your ass... you know I love your ass. Always have...Always will...” TJ was considerably quieter, his trash talking coming out at a whisper.

“Yes...Fuck!....Yes! Yes! Oh Damn! Goddamn, Hell!”

Taj held onto her possessively, bouncing in the couch, each thrust of his hips becoming harder and harder, connecting with Heather in ways she had nearly forgotten.

At a loss of speech and sound, she pressed her cheek to his, eyes closed her breathing labored, listening to him, feeling him, feeling the droplets of perspiration starting to glide down his face.

So much was going on.

TJ clung to her his crotch repeatedly hitting her ass, causing the cheeks to quiver and jiggle.

“Yes! Look at that ass. Look at that ass shake! Pounding that ass! Yes, Glory! UGH!”

Taryll was so quiet, so strangely quiet.

It took quite a bit of effort, but Heather managed to steal a peek at him.

He still reclined on the opposite end of the couch, hand fist curled to his cheek, lips sucked in, brows raised, earnestly devouring the spectacle visually.

He did so like to watch, Heather remembered.

He'd once told her, seeing his brothers all over her was like real life porn, and better than anything he could ever view on the internet.

It was totally different to be caught in the moment and experience it all.

In another life, Taryll could have been a poet.

In this one though, he was just a dirty spectator of an even dirtier event.

But it was a point that could not be dwelt upon, not pondered.

“Aw. Jesus, I can't take it! So good...the booty...Lord help me... I'm weak!”

TJ pounced back and off of Heather, landing on his feet with the agility of a feline, his hands in his hair, purposely taking a few steps away to prevent himself from climaxing much too soon.

Taj patted her backside laughing.

“It's not over yet, Sugar. You know how it goes with us Jacksons...”

Pinching her chin he peered into her face, eyes sparkling demonically,

“Say it...”

Gulping Heather looked first at Taj, then Taryll and finally TJ who's turned back towards them.

“....Long...and Hard....”

She intoned, recalling their intercourse motto as Taj extended, pulled her down smacking her mouth.

“That's right.” His lashes fluttered as he looked over her with an expression that was oddly loving.

Several pillows were tossed onto the floor and another shove from Taj landed her smack dab on them.

Pulling herself up and sitting on her heels, Heather watched as her men huddled across the room, near the doors, just out of earshot whispering back and forth, bare booties jiggling as they shifted back and forth intermittently.

Finger to her lips Heather admired them. How she did love a man with an ass,and how lucky she was all three possessed such wonderful, well-proportioned ones!

Taryll's was the biggest, round and bouncy, a single mole in the center of the left cheek, Taj's was nearly as big, but more of a heart shape, and while Taryll had an obvious tan line from wearing Speedos in the California sun, Taj had no tan lines as he was more apt to be by a pool rather than in it.

TJ's his booty a little plump mass, was dark as the rest of him, brown and bold, as it was no secret, he liked to skinny-dip and the rays from the sky kissed him all over.

And Heather at some point had kissed each of them all over!

At first pouting then, smiling coyly, Heather ran the tip of her fingernail around one of her nipples.

It was nothing new to her for the Teez to have a mid-sex powwow to figure out who went where and did what, before crash landing on her at the same time.

Minutes dragged by with what looked to be a low argument erupting, every so often a glance being sent back to her.

Finally....finally, all three spun, declaring.

“Y-Formation!”

Fluffing her hair, Heather smiled with the nefarious, the term familiar to her.

The “Teez” had a cute habit of naming different positions the four of them would share and the “Y-Formation” was among their favorites.

Taj fell to his knees behind her, while Taryll and TJ dropped in front of her, all tugging at their meat tubes.

Hands pressing into her waist, Taj grunted lustily, as he connected with Heather once more in the most intimate of ways.

Heather would have likely made some form of sound, if she hadn't been crowded by the other two “Teez”, alternating between them, blowing both to Kingdom Come.

Whilst her mouth was occupied with Taryll, her hand was wrapped around TJ, and vice versa.

Each time her mouth took in their manhoods a cry of ecstasy shook the room.

“Damn! Ah! I forgot how she could suck! Sweet Jesus! Aaaaaaaaaah!”

TJ wailed, hands to his nipples, mouth sagging, eyes bulging from their sockets, strapping thigh muscles flexing at the head moving up and down on him.

“Aaaaaahhhh God!”

Then it was Taryll's turn to howl.

“Christ! What are you doing to me? Baby, what are you doing? HEATHER!”

“Rub it....rub it... rub it out...” TJ was growling as Taryll quivered, finger curled to his mouth, gazing at her, nostrils flaring.

“HEATHER! GIRL GODDAMN!”

The only noise coming from Taj, buckled over Heather, his rhythm never breaking, was that of steady, albeit labored and heavy breathing.

He was breathing so hard, he was physically blowing her hair off her shoulder.

Heather went to take her mouth from Taryll and his hands intertwined behind her head holding her onto him.

“It's...it's almost there. I'm almost there. Don't stop! For the love of all things Holy, don't stop!” Taryll pleaded, prompting TJ, slapping his own junk around to tease.

“You always shoot off first!”

“SHUT UP!” Taryll started to curse his brother, but the feeling chose right then to strike him.

“AH! My dick! My dick! I can't hold it! I can't hold it! HEATHER! I—I can't--”

Noticing his convulsing increasing, Heather pulled back, just in time.

“FUCK!” Taryll screamed, an arc of hot whiteness exploding from the inflamed tip of his penis, a few droplets grazing Heather's bottom lip.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” Taryll fell on his back, narrowly missing knocking himself cold on the edge of the carved coffee table by inches.

Shaking the last bits of the sticky substance representing his passion free, Taryll sighed loudly, gripping his plump thighs in an effort to control his tremoring.

“Come on, Honey...come on....” TJ started to direct himself to her mouth, and halted abruptly.

“DAMN!”

“TJ, hell!” Heather cried in dismay, as, without warning, TJ fired off directly into her face, covering her visage in goo. “Not in my damn face!”

“Oh, shut up...you like when I put the icing on you....” TJ snorted, running his hand over her face, poking his fingers into her mouth allowing her a taste of his saltiness.

Cuddling her face in his hands, TJ leaned down, pressing his lips to her a long moment, tasting himself on her.

“What the--”

Heather whined, as Taj wrapped his arms around her midriff, and flipped himself backwards, taking her along with him, landing on his back on the pillows with her on top of him.

And even then, remarkably his rhythm never broke!

“Sit up!”

He barked, a wheeze escaping him and obeying, Heather was upright, her hands on his knees, grinding against him.

“Work it...work it...work me...” Body shifting, Taj sat up, his hands on her breasts, m sucking the tender area where her shoulder and neck met.

“Son of a bitch!Aaaaaaah!”

Still on his back, Taryll screeched, digging his nails into his thighs, a second orgasm wracking him, with him shooting directly into the air, with it splashing back and landing on his heaving abdomen.

“I can't stop busting a nut! Good Lord!”

“Yes...Baby....Baby...Baby...” Taj was in her ear, licking at the lobe.

His hand was traveling down the front of her body, fingertip stroking her little clit again rubbing against it.

“It's...it's time...”

He told her, drawing her head back.

No sooner had he said it, than it happened.

Quietly, delicately, simultaneously, the two met their orgasm together.

There was no shouting, no screaming, no real sound of any kind.

Just that liquid love flowing between them, splashing and dampening Taj's thighs.

His lips brushed her cheek.

“I love you, Heather....”

“I... I love you too...” Heather whispered, sinking back into his arms.

“I love all of you.”

* * *

Something warm and wet flicking her chin.

That's what awakened Heather Treherne several hours later: something warm and wet flicking her chin.

Heather's eyes, while still quite heavy with drowsiness as brought on by exhaustion, fluttered several times as the timid sensation continued.

At once, her eyes were attacked by the bright, midday sunlight streaming into suite, as, across the room the curtains on the large sliding glass doors to the balcony had been left open.

Once her retinas had finally reverted back to their normal size and the spots before them had waned, Heather caught sight of the culprit messing with her chin.

A tiny, cheerful little ball of white fuzz panted into her face, pink tongue hanging out of it's mouth.

“Wolfie?” Heather questioned in awe, more shocked than anything to see her pet resting on its haunches beside her.

Sitting up, for the first time Heather caught a glimpse of the master bedroom of the suite her “Teez” were occupying during their stay in Sydney. And it was the first time she'd seen it in the light, as when she had wearily climbed into bed some time before, all had been black and silent.

It was a nice room open, spacious, and like the décor of the rest of the building, boasted shades of plum, maroon and violet, with accents of gold here and there.

And as she shifted beneath the crosshatched down-filled comforter, Heather took note that someone had been quite busy while she had slumbered.

A few feet from the end of the bed, a rolling rack had been set up, and was packed to near bursting with

her clothing, and arranged neatly beneath the array of skirts dresses and trousers were about a dozen pairs of shoes, next to which, Wolfie's bed and food dishes had been placed.

Further over, she found her jeweled laptop placed atop her massive makeup case.

And even sitting up, Heather found a blue satin nightie had been draped over her, hiding her nudity.

Her “Teez” had been busy and it went without saying they intended for her to stay at the hotel with them, rather than return to her home.

Tucking the pooch beneath her arm, Heather threw the covers back and slipped from the bed, in search of her men.

She didn't have to go very far; they were right in the living room.

Sprawled around the coffee table on the couch and arm chairs, all in sweats and tees she found TJ, hunched over a gleaming acoustic guitar, tuning it, Taryll, his back to her, watching a cartoon on a small black laptop, and Taj, sitting on the couch, his socked feet propped on the table, playing Pac-Man on his phone.

On the coffee table, several boxes, all gift-wrapped, much like her earrings had been the night prior, sat waiting to be opened.

Venturing closer, she inquired, causing heads to turn.

“Is...is that for me?”

“Yes...it's the outfit we'd like to see you wear to the show Saturday.” Taj replied, tossing his phone aside and rising to his feet. “You needed something to go with the emeralds we gave you.”

Heather's breath caught in her throat as Taj approached her, his brothers setting their distractions aside.

Taj's eyes burned into her a long moment and she hugged Wolfie tighter, as if a dog weighing less than five pounds could protect her.

“I meant what I said at the restaurant last night...” He started, reaching and scratching Wolfie's head. His own head dipped, and the deep gold flecks in his eyes were revealed.

“...I really do want you to come to California. To stay. All three of us do.”

“Taj--” Two fingers pressed her lips cutting her off.

“When we bought our house, six years ago, Heather, we intended for you to be there with us. It's a nice house. Two stories, four bedrooms, good neighborhood, gated community. Perfect suburban house. No different from where you stay now, except...”

His head lowered further and he stared down at his feet, chest rising and falling as he breathed deeply.

“...except, you'd only be a few feet down a hall, instead of halfway around the world, from me!”

His hand quaked against his chest.

“This...what we're doing right now...it has to stop. Up and flying away for weeks at a time. It has to stop. It's asinine! It's impractical! I don't feel like a boyfriend to you, Heather. I feel like... like...”

His hand shook harder as he searched for the right term.

“I feel like a high-priced call boy!” He finally sputtered. “I fly out here, we make love a few times and then I'm gone. The only difference is, you don't stuff twenties into my boxers when I'm done--”

“Now wait a minute--” Heather started and found the fingers on her mouth again.

“You wait a minute.” Taj retorted. “Let me ask you something, Heather Grace: Do you love me and my brothers?”

She stole a glance and Taryll and TJ, both of whom were leaning forward, listening intently.

Slapping his hand away, Heather said,

“Of course, you know that!”

“...and you consider us your boyfriends?”

“Yes, Taj.”

“Then what is the hell is stopping you from being with us? Being where you belong?”

Not sure where to look Heather focused on Wolfie.

“I...I don't know, Taj...I just don't know.”

“I meant what I said.” Taj stiffened, taking his hands from her. “If you don't come to California this time, I'm not coming back to Sydney, ever.”

It was Heather's turn to sputter.

“Taj, you can't mean that--”

“The hell I don't!”

Taj snapped, leaning forward, invading her personal space. “I know we make you happy. You're happy with us. We're happy with you. This isn't how a relationship should work—running around for an entire damn decade! And we're still on the ground floor! I love you. God knows I love you Heather, but I can't continue living like this. I just cant! I won't!”

His hand curled into a fist against his heaving bosom.

“I don't even want you to say it. You have the earrings. If you wear them, that means you'll go home with us. If not....” He trailed off, grimacing, eyes narrowing as his face blazed scarlet.

“In four days, we play for the documentarian, Johannes Siegler. And in four days, I want your answer, Heather. You hear me? Four days! And if you want to throw away ten years, an entire decade of our lives....”

He paused and sniffed loudly

“...then I'll have a better idea of just exactly how you feel about me and my brothers.”

“Taj, please.” Heather laid a hand on his arm only to have it jerked away.

Moving from her he stopped in front of the couch picking up a pair of cross-trainers.

“If you're coming with us, we'll pack up right after the show. If you're not...well...that's that.”

Squaring his shoulders, Taj crossed the room, letting himself out into the hallway and slamming the door behind him.

Defeated, Heather stared at the door a tense, silent while.

Then turned her attention to the remaining two.

“Do you feel that way? If I don't come to California this time...is....is it over?” Her voice cracked under the weight of her words, a pain sticking into her heart.

“We don't want it to be over....we really don't.” Taryll reasoned, getting up and being followed by TJ, remorseful expressions on their handsome faces.

“But Taj is right, it has been ten years. That's a long time for a very long-distance relationship. I mean we've been together since you were in high school.”

“And it has been trying.” TJ concurred, patting her shoulder. “We look crazy every time we say we've got a girlfriend and then when someone wants to meet you, we have to say you're in Australia...”

“But this is my home! This is where I work--” Heather began and was interrupted by Taryll.

“You're a beauty blogger, Baby. A blogger...” He shook his head, bridge of his nose crinkling. “That means you sit on a computer and type. You can blog just as easily in Los Angeles as you do here in Sydney.”

“Now, I wouldn't have put it as bluntly as Taj did...” TJ shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck, “...but he was kind of spot on with that male escort thing. It is kind of like sex tourism, flying here and there.”

“You...you really want me to come back to America that badly?” Heather whispered.

“Yes!” Taryll and TJ chorused in unison.

“Your family is in Mississippi, and we'd be in California, together. You need to be with us. That's all we've ever wanted, you to come back with us.” Taryll pecked her cheek while TJ kissed the other.

“We'd feel a lot better anyways, knowing you're in a house with three strong men, instead of by yourself on the other side of the world with just a glorified dustmop to protect you.”

“You've got four days.” TJ reiterated, as he and his brother moved past her, heading back to the main suite.

“And you've already had ten years...”

Heather gulped solemnly, listening to the door opening and shutting behind her.

Leaving her alone.

And there she stood, four days later, in that small dressing room, underneath the Luxor Club, a pair of costly baubles rendering her long overdue decision without a word.

“You're wearing the earrings...” Taj cried, clutching after his chest. “She's wearing the earrings! Fellas, she's wearing the earrings”

Taj was on his feet.

“Oh! Oh, Heather, do you mean it? You're coming back--”

“Yes!” She whimpered, coming forward and throwing her arms around his thick body, feeling him embrace her.

She was squeezed harder as Taryll and TJ joined the fray, hanging onto her, lips pressing her face joyously.

“Hey! Three Teez! You're on in ten minutes! Ten minutes, Three Teez!”

A voice called and the foursome looked up in time to see the stage manager easing the door shut.

“I...I almost forgot you had to play music tonight...” Heather half laughed and half cried, as her men tossed their robes off, and moved towards the rack of black clothing, pulling outfits and starting to dress.

“I don't care about the set tonight. It doesn't matter to me if Johannes Seigler wants our score for his movie or not....” Taj jumped and sucked in his stomach, tucking a basic black tee into his trousers.

“...I've got the best thing in the world: you coming home with us, finally.”

“Yeah!” His brothers echoed, all smiling with relief and pride.

It was true.

As the four of them mounted the marble stair, three holding instruments, all destined for the Flamingo Room, the famed documentarian's decision seemed so small to them

So very small.

As now, a decade of being indecisive, wishy-washy and riding the fence was no longer between them.

It had successfully been eradicated, and when the lights onstage dimmed, it would be not a trio flying back to Los Angeles...

...it would be a loving quartet.