Not So Old Fashioned PART TWO

 “Not So Old Fashioned”

PART TWO

Sometime Later

“...and however one might sentimentalize it, this sex business was one of the most ancient, sordid connections and subjections. Poets who glorified it were mostly men. Women had always know there was something better, something higher. And now they knew it more definitely than ever. The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love...”

Ursula M. Buchanan had intended to spend the rest of her evening in relative solitude, curled up on the end of the chaise in her bedchamber with only a copy of D. H. Lawrence's scandalous, once banned novel, Lady Chatterley's Lover, to keep her company.

Instead, she had only gotten a few pages into the gripping, blunt and masterful tale of love affairs in Post World War One Europe, her mind unable to focus upon the task before her.

Instead, her mind continuously reverted back to earlier that same day, out in Fontana, where the film lab had been in flames.

How very frightened she had been. How scared, how helpless at the thought that not only that her very sanctum from the modern world could be reduced to ashes, but all the work she had done, all the restoration, all her research, all her completed works since she had been sixteen-years-old.

Everything she had ever put her hands on.

The film lab was practically her home away from home; it was the only place she knew. She hadn't felt so turned out since the sad day she'd had to sell and move away from her grandparents' home—her childhood escape from the world.

Then there was the thought of Camille.

If the sole copy with the extra fifteen minutes had been lost to the flames, she'd have surely lost her mind.

Her mind was foggy and scattered, in regards to the events that immediately followed her boss, Mr. Blythe, showing her the silver tin containing the film stock for Camille, ensuring that Nazimova, and Valentino would get to see the silver screen again one day.

Ursula knew she had fainted right then and there, as told to her later, when she had come to in the back seat of her coupe, held in Taj Jackson's arms, with him lightly stroking her forehead with his thumb.

(He'd admitted wanting to stroke her hair, but feared ruining it.)

One hand had been been folded into her lap, the other dually held by his brothers, TJ driving, Taryll riding shotgun, each reaching painfully behind themselves to do so, as they returned to Los Angeles.

The Teez, her Teez, had been so concerned, so worried as they had arrived back to La Victoire with her, asking if she needed anything, wanted anything.

They appeared quite willing to go to the ends of the earth for her at just her asking.

No...instead, Ursula had been led from the car, still in a daze, traumatized, only wanting to go to her apartment and lie down.

She kept repeating it, over and over as some sort of a shell-shocked mantra, being more carried than walking of her own volition.

The brown and tan faces of her favorite companions had looked so forlorn, so unhappy, and regretfully they had all bid adieu at her door, as always.

And there she had remained for an indiscriminate amount of time, but judging by how there were no longer any rays coming through the windows framing her bed, night was in the process of falling.

Placing the strip of purple ribbon in the book to mark her page, Ursula shut Lady Chatterley's Lover, and set the book aside with a loud sigh.

Rising up on the high heels of her little marabou-trimmed slippers, in a shade of pearl pink that perfectly matched her sleeveless, sailor suit-inspired pajamas, small hands were tucked into pockets and the mistress of the maison started a slow walk trying to decide if she wanted to cook herself something for dinner or ring for take out.

Reaching the door leading out into her living room, Ursula stopped short, a hand flying to her bosom in surprise.

There, in one of the green velvet arm chairs, was Taj Jackson.

It appeared he'd been there for quite some time, as an imported bottle of orange soda from Ursula's fridge sat open and had gone flat, thankfully on a coaster, beside a neat stack of Archie and Twisted Mysteries comic books.

A Mysteries comic was still open on his lap, showing a Native American sinking his tomahawk into the skull of a cowboy.

Meanwhile, Taj was blissfully asleep, his chin on his chest, audibly snoring.

Moving closer to him, Ursula was utterly confused. She couldn't recall having invited Taj in, or remember him following her inside.

She just barely remembered changing out of her dress into her pajamas, but she was quite certain she had been alone.

(Ursula never wore underwear with her sleep clothes and surely would have noticed if a man had been hovering about while she were nude, no matter how grief stricken she may have been.)

Knowing that standing there, staring at her uninvited guest would get her no answers, she laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently.

After a few pushes he roused naturally and the braided head came up.

“Oh, hey Ursula...” He mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes and giving her a half-smile. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes—What...what are you doing here?” She questioned, less tactfully, and far more curtly than she had planned, hands going to her hips.

Sitting up fully, Taj shook a few braids out of his eyes and yawned into his fist, explaining,

“I came back about an hour after me and the bros dropped you off to check on you. We were all kind of worried, you know with how you fainted and all...”

Smoky eyes drifted for a moment to her bosom, relatively at eye level to him, the two pinpoints her areolas made in the fabric attracting his attention.

“...um...” His eyes went back up to her face. “I rang the bell, no answer. I called; I could hear the phone ringing but still no answer. Something told me to try the door, and I guess you left it unlocked, cause it opened right up.”

He shrugged casually, as if breaking and entering were all in a day's work for him.

“I found you, fast asleep with a book on that couch in your bedroom--”

“Chaise lounge.” Ursula corrected him, passing back behind his chair and perching herself on the closest end of the divan to him.

She should have been angry, but was nonetheless flattered that he'd been so concerned for her.

“Yeah, that. I've been here ever since waiting for you. I guess I dozed off myself.” Taj nodded deeply. I couldn't find a television to watch so I got some books...”

He trailed off as Ursula reached behind one of the tasseled throw pillows on her couch and produced a remote control.

A button was pressed and the portrait of her backside raised, revealing a large screen television built into the wall behind it.

She almost laughed aloud at the way Taj Jackson's mouth fell open in shock.

“You were quite literally underneath it the whole time.” She snickered the obvious.

With another press, the portrait returned to its original position.

“Is...is...is...” Taj was sputtering like an engine unable to start, and Ursula answered for him,

“Yes, that's me. I've always admired the portraits of Alfred Cheney Johnston—he photographed the Ziegfeld Follies and actresses like Barbara Stanwyck and Mary Pickford. So, I had that portrait taken when I was nineteen. I was tempted to do a frontal nude, but changed my mind. Still, Gam-Gam said a few novenas for my 'lost soul' when she first saw it.”

Ursula was sure to keep her head lowered, but continued to watch her guest through her impossibly long eyelashes. It took everything in her to not curl her lips into a cruel grin as the braided head turned to her, straight brows raised, surprise stamped all over his ruggedly handsome visage.

“Full frontal...ahem...nude?” Taj echoed, his voice cracking mid-sentence.

“Yes...” Ursula shifted, crossing one shapely leg over the other, adding, “Many of the portraits Mr. Johnston shot were nudes, particularly of the Follies...but most of the Follies performed topless anyway.”

Eyes went back to the bared, porcelain cheeks, Taj intoning,

“I would have never guessed...”

“Now...” She tapped at his knee through his well-worn jeans for his attention once more. “...what was it you wanted to speak to me about?”

“Oh!” He turned back to her with a toothier smile.

He was so low-key and understatedly good-looking.

“While you were sleeping, your boss called--”

“Mr. Blythe?” A hand went to Ursula's throat, suddenly tight and closing rapidly.

What had Mr. Blythe called for? He rarely ever called her, be it her mobile phone or her landline.

Her mind went to races. Had the fire been worse than anticipated? Was she out of a job? What would she do? How would she go on?

Sure she was living off of a trust her grandparents had willed to her upon their deaths, but her true passion, her zeal was for her work restoring film, and the speeches she gave.

Was she going to have to move? She didn't want to move! She loved her home, and enjoyed being with her Teez and the little bit of life she lead--

“Yeah, he called to let you know that the film lab was going to be closed for the next two weeks. You know, so they can try to repair everything that got damaged in the fire. He said you and your coworkers will get PTO. Just come back the first week of November.”

Ursula whom had lurched forward expecting the worst, now sank back against the cushions, relieved.

“Oh, thank God...” She sighed, hand slipping to her bosom, breaths slowing back to normal.

She wasn't on her way to Skid Row just yet, then.

“So, what do you plan to do on your two weeks off?” It was Taj's turn to pet her knee.

“I suppose I can finally read all of the novel I've been putting off.” She giggled, reaching up to tighten the pink ribbon in her waves.

Unintentionally her bosom had been thrust forward, bouncing at her movement, and Taj's eyes bounced as he watched openly.

“...that is, unless you have a better idea, Taj.”

She did so love messing about with him.

What was it he had called her?

A prick tease.

He chuckled lowly,

“I believe I do, Ursula.” He assured her, “I believe I do!”

“Really, now?”

“How would you like to get away from all the fuss and muss here in LA and spend the next two weeks up at my uncle's ski lodge in Montana? Just pack your book.”

Bluish eyes, which had gone catty amidst her flirting at once snapped open at the mention of an impromptu ski holiday.

A ski trip? Up north? And she was invited? How could she even dream of saying no to such a proposition?

“Just rest and relax, get your mind off the fire and films and Nazimova...”

White teeth were glowing at him as Ursula beamed brightly, begging,

“When should I be ready to go?”

Standing Taj replied, as he reached behind himself,

“Six a.m....”

A plane ticket was extended to her, with him adding in apology,

“I'm sorry we have to fly commercial, but Uncle Michael is using his private jet to go to to Madrid then to Luxembourg to close on a couple of properties. Don't worry about any skis or poles or anything; all that's provided upstate.”

Examining the ticket, marked clearly as 'First Class', Ursula heard herself, as she stood up closely to him again dropping her head to avoid his eyes,

“Your uncle owns a private jet?”

“Yes, he and my Uncle Jermaine do, because they sell a lot overseas and it was easier than booking a hundred and fifty flights each year.” Taj shrugged it off, glad her head was down so she wouldn't witness his amusement at her amazement which had shown itself so plainly on her pale little face.

The beautiful face with the slight greyness under the eyes, the only tattletale of her strain.

No one so young and so charming should ever suffer the hassle of being so stressed.

At least that was the consensus between Taj, Taryll and TJ Jackson in regards to their fair little neighbor.

Stealing a glance upwards at Taj, looming over her, hovering, Ursula asked of him slyly,

“What would you have done...had I declined your invitation?”

Plaits brushed her face as he leaned down, breath smelling of artificial oranges.

His eyes penetrating hers with unwavering precision.

“I'd have spent all the time between now and takeoff trying to change your mind.”

“Then I suppose its a good thing that I'm quite easily persuaded, don't you agree?”

His face was closer. “I do agree.”

Lips pursed and were aiming for her own.

Which Ursula ducked with the agility of a Chinese acrobat.

“You little prick tease!” The sentence came out as one solid word, shoved through Taj's grit teeth.

“I am not a prick tease, Taj Jackson!” There was a toss of raven hair and a small foot stamped at the floor in objection.

“You are so! Always have been!”

“No, I am not!”

“Yes, you are, Ursula!”

“Damn it, I'm not!”

“Prove me wrong, then.” Taj challenged, with an arrogant wag of his head, eyes narrowing as he looked down his nose at her, biting his own tongue to keep from bursting into laughter at the complete expression of consternation on the sweet, heart-shaped face before him.

Small soft hands were laid on his broad shoulders,

“I'm not a prick tease, Taj...” She repeated, rising up on tiptoe, face nearing his...

“You're always calling me...names...”

As the last word left her mouth, it collided with Taj's plump, shining, waiting lips.

Ursula had only intended to give Taj a playful smack on the mouth, but when she tried to pull away, she found his hand on the back of her neck, forcefully holding her into place, prolonging the kiss.

Clamping so hard, her flesh should have bruised several times over.

“Mmm! Mmm! Hmm!” She mumbled into his mouth, as it pressed harder on her own, her arms starting to flail about behind him, his other arm wrapping tightly around her middle, pulling her against him.

Hand sliding down and grasping one of her supple, yet firm cheeks through the dotted silk.

He...he was squeezing and plying her buttock: a sensation which caused Ursula to audibly gasp off into his mouth.

Taj was far too strong for Ursula to even have a chance of fending him off.

And his mouth...his sweet delicious mouth....

She couldn't refuse it and found herself gamely kissing and sucking away with as much earnest and joy as he was hers.

Eventually, her arms found their way around him, hands rubbing along his strong back.

And just as quickly, he was pulling away from her.

“No....No!” She pleaded being dragged several feet as he backed up, and struggled to pull her arms from around him. “Don't stop—why are you stopping?”

Her disappointment was bright and stung like a fresh cut, not to her being but to her soul.

And like a child, she pouted, arms crossing, foot pounding the floor.

“Because...” Taj was scooping up his comic books and soda bottle, back to her,

“If I don't stop now, Ursula, I won't stop. I have to pack--”

“I...won't stop you in Montana.” Ursula blurted, her mind still spinning and slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late.

The words hung in the air over them, like the huge, waterfall crystal chandelier above their heads, with Taj pausing to gaze over his shoulder at her grimly.

“I'll remember that.” He vowed, starting towards the door and stopping abruptly.

In the blink of an eye, he was bending her back, laying another scintillating kiss on her, one that caught Ursula so off guard that when he released her, she stumbled back and fell onto the divan.

“Six o'clock...” Taj reminded her as he made a swift exit, slamming her front door behind him.

Ursula laughed, a hand touching after her lips, now slightly sore from such raucous activity, enjoying the way her heart was racing.

Her other hand unconsciously feeling after her backside, also a trifle sore.

The cool sweat which had sprung up all over her dermis, and her entire body was trembling from wanton ecstasy.

And she was going to spend the next two weeks with not only him, but his two equally dashing siblings in a cabin in Montana?

Prick tease, indeed.

Gripping her plane ticket tighter in her hand, she ran to her room, eager to pack her bags for this new adventure.

The Following Morning

“...a woman—young, beautiful like you—could get anything she wants in the world...because you have power over men...”

As the classic Barbara Stanwyck vehicle, Baby Face, played from its position across from Ursula Buchanan's bed, via another sliding portrait on the wall, this one a restored version of her beloved grandparents' wedding photo, the young woman was paying it only half her attention, if that much.

Perched on the low tufted ottoman before the large vanity mirror, Ursula, wearing only a teddy, garters and semi-sheer stockings, Ursula was focused on the smaller handheld mirror of hunter green enamel, carefully applying her signature scarlet pout with the precision of a surgeon making his very first cut.

The rest of her face had been painted in to Thirties perfection—pale, matte skin, lightly blushed cheeks, long, defined lashes and the far too thin, arched brows.

The finishing touch would be her mouth. It always was.

Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!

Swiping at her bottom lip, Ursula grimaced.

Of course the bell would choose the most inconvenient moment to chime.

Without moving her lips, lest they be spoiled before they could fully dry down, she called loudly,

“Door's open!”

From the vestibule, a voice announced,

“Hey Ursula, it's Taryll! I came to start moving your bags out to—HOLY SHIT! TAJ WASN'T KIDDING! THIS PLACE DOES LOOK LIKE IT'S STRAIGHT OUT OF ONE OF THOSE OLD BLACK AND WHITE PICTURES! WOW!”

Blotting her mouth on a Kleenex and applying a second coat of red, Ursula chuckled to herself.

From where she sat, she had a perfect vantage point off into her living room.

And saw that Taryll Jackson was making no moves towards the four, vintage Louis Vuitton steamer trunks which had been placed in front of the coffee table.

Instead, Taryll, wearing a ribbed red sweater with black jeans and what looked to be a wallet chain draping his hip, stood, gazing up at the portrait of her booty, just as entranced as his older brother had been.

Selecting a tall thin bottle of amber-colored liquid, Ursula squeezed the pink atomizer several times dousing herself in fragrance, nagging in a sing-song tone,

“My bags aren't on the wall...Taryll...”

“I was just admiring the art...” He replied, turning towards the trunks and stopped, mouth parting slightly, as he caught sight of Ursula through the open door, standing at the vanity, running a small comb through her waves.

The lithe, supple, voluptuous figure scantily covered by ecru lace and satin, her legs appearing slightly darker than the rest of her due to her wearing dark, gunmetal gray stockings.

A single silver bracelet went on her left wrist, with Ursula moving away from view and disappearing into what had to be her closet.

Unconscious of his own movements, Taryll was crossing the living room and was soon hovering in the doorway to her bedroom.

A lesser man would have barged right in;he'd come this far. But Taryll had been raised properly and knew he couldn't set a toenail over the threshold without permission, no matter how close of friends he was with Ursula.

It just wasn't done.

Hazel eyes darted around the room, taking in the luxurious décor.

Small smirk on his lips.

It would only be appropriate that a woman so consumed with one particular decade should let her hobby flow over into every room, even the one she rested her head in at night.

Draped across the foot of the bed was a sumptuous cocoon-style coat of steely grey velvet, trimmed in what appeared to be fur of varying shades of black, white, and grey.

Ursula, deep in her closet, wiggling into a dress, heard Taryll inquire,

“Is that real fur on your coat?”

“Yes...silver fox if I recall correctly. It belonged to my grandmother. Thankfully I'm about the same size she was, when my grandfather gave it to her one Christmas.”

Ursula strode out of the closet, a pair of leather pumps in her hand, wearing a simple dress of grey wool, with short, capped sleeves and thin belt accenting her slender waist.

A small diamond brooch, in the shape of a rosette glittered from her right bosom..

Somehow the dress seemed ill-fitted and took Taryll a moment to realize it hadn't been zipped up properly.

And that raven-haired vixen was making a beeline to him.

“Would you do up my dress for me please?” She wondered, already turning her back to him.

As she turned, she caught a glimpse of TJ, whom seemed to have just let himself in, mid-hunch, grasping one of the handles of her trunks, head turned, staring up at her ass in the gilt frame.

“Yeah...” Taryll's voice was low, close to a whisper, and Ursula dropped her shoes to the carpet, waiting patiently for him to cinch her dress for her.

Instead, she jumped, as warm lips collided with the center of her back, as bared by her teddy.

“Taryll!” She gasped, more startled than anything at his forwardness.

Wasn't he supposed to be the Shy One of the trio?

Swiftly the zipper was engaged, but strong hands fell upon her shoulders, and a warm breath blew against her ear,

“Do you always have to be 'in character' Ursula? It's not nineteen thirty-five...hasn't been for over sixty years...”

Bracing against him, Ursula kept her cool, retorting quietly,

“I'm not 'in character'. This is how I am. And you must like it, since you just kissed my goddamned back, Sir!”

Taryll's hands slipped down to her biceps, and squeezed hard enough that Ursula protested wincing,

“I bruise easily--”

“We're going to be around each other for two weeks.” Taryll spoke so calmly, it scared Ursula a bit. “...I just wanted to know if I was going to be walking around on egg shells with a prissy little prick tease in the cabin or not.”

There was that term again: Prick Tease.

Was that what they called her when she wasn't around?

Is that what Her Teez truly thought of her?

Tossing her head scornfully, and just barely missing knocking Taryll's front teeth down his throat, Ursula demanded scornfully,

“If I were as reserved and touch-me-not as you and your brothers insist upon making me out to be, would there be a photo of my bare ass cheeks mounted on the wall for all to see?”

“Lots of women play hard-to-get.” Taryll answered dryly, releasing her. “And they all play it in their own special way.”

She was kissing him.

Out of sheer spite Ursula had whipped around, grabbed Taryll by the cheeks (on his face!) and mashed her mouth to his—tasting oddly of spicy salsa—and was kissing him.

Taryll's arms had gone up, like a criminal showing he had no intent to harm, eyes shut, brows up, chest heaving.

After several moments, Ursula pushed Taryll away and tangling in his own legs, he went down fast and hard onto the carpet with a muffled thud.

If TJ Jackson had heard anything, it'd gone over his curly head, as he'd never moved.

Still fixated on the lewd photograph.

“Come on, come on! It's twenty till six and we still have to be to the airport by eight. And we can't pull that 'my uncle is Michael Jackson' card at LAX like we do at John Wayne Airport. Uncle Michael doesn't have a private airstrip at LAX!”

From seemingly nowhere, Taj Jackson, already bundled in a black parka and scarf with Bugs Bunny dancing across it, came storming in, slapping TJ on the back and breaking the spell the round rump had over him.

“Move it Teej! This ain't New York and you ain't in the MOMA! I'll help you...”

Taj started to round the first trunk, to lend a hand toting it and stopped, doing a double take.

At first Ursula assumed he was in awe of her and reacting dramatically, then he spoke,

“Taryll Adren Jackson, what in HELL is that on your face?”

Glancing at him as he shuffled by her Ursula saw that her lipstick hadn't been completely dry when she'd kissed Taryll, resulting in a bright red smear that started on his lips and trailed off sideways onto his cheek.

“A rash, Taj...a rash...” Was all he said.

Taj remained on the spot, Taryll brushing past him, smug smile on his face, with lipstick on one tooth, and took hold of the other handle.

He and TJ, conspicuously avoiding eye contact with all in the room, lumbered from sight off into the hall.

Leaving Ursula alone with Taj.

Taj who was staring at her so hard, Ursula felt he was looking beyond her soul and into oblivion.

And for the first time, she felt regret, and though Taj's face had gone stoic with no emotion to really be spoken of, she could very plainly sense he was upset.

Perhaps his feelings hurt.

Slowly, hands trembling, she approached him, eyes searching his face but finding nothing.

“Are...are you cross at me for kissing Taryll? I...I...”

A hand went up and she fell silent.

Taj regarded her a moment longer,

“You're free, White and twenty-one. You can do—and kiss—as you please.”

Ursula felt herself smiling at the fact Taj had spoken a line, mildly altered, she'd heard a million times through her work with classic film.

Pinching his cheek, she winked at him correcting,

“I'm twenty-two...and if I can kiss as I please, then I believe that includes you too.”

“It better include me!” Taj laughed, as Ursula scampered away and off into her room.

The sound of Taj Jackson guffawing after her and the clueless askings of “what” as his brothers returned for more of her luggage.

Relieved she was still in Taj's good graces.

Several Hours Later

Brent, Montana

Ursula M. Buchanan felt very much like a fairy tale princess and had from the very moment she set foot aboard the First Class section of that hulking Boeing 777 idling on the tarmac of the Los Angeles International Airport.

No stranger to airline travel, as she had taken many a vacation with her grandparents over the course of her short life, Ursula had assumed that First Class was much like Business Class, probably with better food, or more legroom.

Perhaps it was, if the passengers were not members of the Jackson Family. But in the company of individuals with that particular surname, Ursula found perks revealing themselves almost immediately.

For starts, First Class contained only four passengers: herself and Her Teez.

She never knew whom had reserved that entire section of the plane, the fellas or their uncle, but each of them even had their very own stewardess to look after all their needs and wants.

Even the in-flight movie had been selected especially for them, a series of Laurel and Hardy shorts.

It was hard to believe that past the partition in the rear of their section, a few hundred people were seated just feet away; the whole plane felt as though it belonged solely to them.

While the rest of the plane ate peanuts, Ursula had been treated to a Caesar Salad, prepared by hand at her chairside and topped with tender slices of medium-well steak medallions. Ice creams sodas had flowed like water.

And though the cabin contained over thirty seats to be used at her discretion, Ursula never once sat in one.

Instead, for the entirety of the flight, she had been perched on the laps of one of the Teez, and any time she got up or tried to move towards another seat, one would latch on to her hand, arm, or waist, pulling her against them.

The older two making an obvious, conspicuous spectacle of kissing at her face, neck and lips while TJ, nearby, looked on smoldering, broad brows seemingly permanently raised in scorn at his siblings, but making no moves to force pecks upon her; even when she was seated on his knees and thighs.

Her scarlet pout had to be reapplied more than a dozen times before they touched down in Montana.

At the Bert Mooney Airport, the foursome were greeted by a tall, bald gentleman in a smart black suit whom turned out to be Michael Jackson's personal chauffeur, who led them out into the snow-capped landscape to a black, stretch limo, the name Jackson inscribed on the doors in scrolling silver-plated script.

At the same time, baggage handlers were directly loading their luggage into a small U-Haul, rather than tossing it on the conveyor belt that led to the luggage hell known as baggage claim.

Another hour-long drive, which took the four of them from the metropolitan state capital to a more rural area where, not mere homes, but palatial estates were hidden behind high gates with barren, white miles lying betwixt them, led them to Michael Jackson's ski lodge.

Again, Ursula had been unprepared for the decadence her companions seemed to take with utter nonchalance.

She had been to ski lodges before; although the ones Gam-Gam and Pop-Pop procured resembled true, rustic cabins made of split logs, with touches such as the mounted heads of deer and elk adorning the walls. One even had an entire taxidermy Kodiak bear in the front hall.

Not the Jackson 'cabin'.

Not by a looooong shot.

Yes, the exterior of this 'cabin' was indeed constructed of split logs, but in sheer size alone, this single abode could have easily made ten of the humble cabins she'd spent her holidays in.

Michael Jackson's ski lodge was easily three stories rambling outwards and upwards egregiously, both managing to blend in with the surrounding white-caked pines and standing out from them.

As soon as the limo had come to a halt in front of the leaded-glass front doors, a team of four maids, appearing in their early fifties, white haired and rosy cheeked had come flooding out the house, greeting all politely and immediately making all of the luggage disappear from the trunk.

It took Ursula a while to realize she had her own maid to herself, much as she'd had her own stewardess on the plane at her beck and call.

Ursula had been swept into a warm front foyer, scented heavily with vanilla and potpourri, and and presented with a mug of rich, Belgian hot chocolate by a chef in a resplendent white outfit.

And Ursula had been taken aback by the home as one rm linked with Taj's, the other linked with Taryll's and TJ holding her about the waist, she was led around, being shown every nook and cranny to her new home for the next half-month.

Luxurious could barely begin to describe the home.

It was filled with antiques—Michael Jackson seemed to have a penchant for Louis XV style furniture upholstered in brocades, velvets, and leathers—along with tapestries and paintings of country scenes and people in eighteenth century garb.

The Teez uncle appeared to be very, very fond of his family as on every conceivable surface, table tops, the mantle, the top of a grand piano were framed photos of relatives.

Larger portraits took up entire sections of walls.

Ursula, shuffling along, was in a whirlwind, seeing formal seating areas, a theatre a game room, a sauna, the dining room, massive bedrooms—their uncle's room took up the entire third story—and by the time she was dropped off at her own room, she felt drunk.

The Teez had mumbled something about taking naps to be fresh for dinner in a few hours and had bid her adieu, with Taryll pointing out a small console near the bed for her to use if she needed to call for anything at all.

And, that quickly, Ursula was by her lonesome.

Left in a room decorated in shades of pale blue and pewters—a fact that escaped her she'd been placed there specifically for the surroundings bringing out her eyes—Ursula wandered around, finding all of her belongings put away neatly, by the maids whom had disappeared into thin air.

A bit jet lagged, she hadn't noticed until now she was a trifle on the drowsy side, and started to remove her clothing.

The huge, canopied bed in the center of the room on a raised platform did look so inviting to her.

Stripped down to her teddy, she started to climb into the bed, but thinking better of it, went to the door, and engaged the lock with a loud click.

Unbeknownst to Ursula, whom was scurrying into the plush, downy softness of the King-sized bed, three men had stopped feet from the door, deterred by the sound of the door being locked.

Expressions of disdain, aggravation and annoyance were traded and reluctantly, the trio made moves back to their own rooms, doors slamming in unison.

The slams didn't reach Ursula; she was already fast asleep.

If any remnants of worry pertaining to the blaze which had very nearly destroyed her beloved film lab in Fontana were present in her thoughts, Ursula paid them no heed.

Over the course of the following four days in Montana, her very first trip that state, the young woman had been much too busy with her companions, Her Three Teez, to fret over singed celluloid.

Every day was a new adventure, starting with a maid bringing her a steaming cup of chocolate, with a single, large, from-scratch marshmallow floating in it, to help wake her, as the cup was brought promptly at a quarter to six every morning.

From there she'd slip on one of her marabou-trimmed robes, and join the men for breakfast, usually served buffet style, with eggs prepared several ways, a smattering of meats and fresh fruit with toast and bagels galore.

And piping-hot, Colombian coffee so strong it should have knocked her head clean off her shoulders.

Conversation was light and cheery at the table; Taryll would always doze off, his forehead smacking the polished wood, and one day he fell nose-first into his eggs, screaming as he inadvertently inhaled them, causing his siblings to literally roll about the floor laughing.

(But of course, the foursome had been up till all hours the night before, shooting the breeze, chatting and admiring the stars from the solarium in the very rear of the home.)

In the interim between breakfast and dinner, the group partook of outdoor activities such as skiing, and snowboarding around the property, having snowball fights, and reverting to children, playing games such as Hide and Seek and Simon Says.

In the process, of course, many hugs, kisses, and a few fondles were had at Ursula's expense.

And therein she observed a rift right away.

While Taj and Taryll were more than happy to play games for her affections—or outright grab her for a kiss here and there—TJ seemed reserved and held back.

Sure, he joined in the playful teasing and banter, but the closest he got to any sort of intimacy with her, was a hug goodnight every evening.

And he conspicuously watched his brothers kissing her before each parted for their separate beds.

In a way, it was starting to bug her; Ursula had grown spoiled and used to the never-ending attention showered on her, and perhaps, selfishly, she wondered why the youngest of the bunch was not pursuing her as passionately as his brothers.

The hardest part was going to be getting away from the two elder Jacksons in order to speak privately with TJ.

After a morning of skiing and a snowboarding lesson from Taj, resulting in his getting slapped for patting her bottom one too many times, Ursula had suggested the four of them play Hide and Seek once more, nominating herself as “It”.

Against the pure white backdrop of the snowy landscape, it was almost ridiculously easy for Ursula to spot all three men simultaneously as she finished counting to twenty.

Taryll was furthest away, crouching in what appeared to be a small ditch he'd hastily dug with gloved hands but stuck out like a sore thumb from in his bright red coat with matching Russian hat on his head.

Taj's coat, a fawn corduroy was less vibrant but still noticeable as he was intermittently inching his way up a tree like a ring-tailed lemur, his striped tam with Looney Tunes character Taz embroidered on it, calling attention directly to his head.

And then there was TJ.

He was near the front of the house, belly crawling across the cold bricked driveway.

It was obvious he was slinking towards the limousine in an effort to hide behind it.

Or so she thought.

“Damn it!”

The shriek echoed as the branch Taj Jackson had shimmied onto gave way and he tumbled a good ten feet to the Earth.

Taryll's head popped up, indicating he was concerned for his sibling, but not so much so as to fully give away his hiding spot, while Ursula stood a few hundred yards away, fearful he'd hurt himself.

A sigh of relief whooshed from her lungs, as Taj staggered to his feet, stared directly at her, then took off running into the trees to hide once more.

Taryll's head slunk from sight in the meantime.

Turning back, Ursula spied TJ, a blur now, as he rounded the far side of the mansion at a full sprint.

Giving chase, Ursula rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt, confusion taking her over.

Causing fine brows to meet above her nose.

“...the Hell?”

In the fresh snow alongside a small walkway, she made out the prints TJ's ski boots had made, but they stopped abruptly.

A pair of tracks....then, untouched, virgin snow.

A grown man couldn't just vanish into thin air!

Fearing she'd lost her mind in the last few seconds, Ursula turned in a complete circle, trying to see if she could make him out.

Hiding in one of the bushes decorating the property, trying to scale a tree like Taj had unsuccessfully tried to do.

Anything.

Nothing.

And then she looked up.

A shallow gasp escaped her.

There was TJ, physically dangling from the gutter, three stories above the ground.

“Spiderman!” She called, and TJ, whom had started shimmying to the side, grew still.

And easily, without the slightest sign of apprehension, TJ Jackson dropped, landing less than a foot from Ursula, crouching to prevent injury from the impact of what had to be at least a fifty foot drop.

Once his balance had been regained, he straightened.

Casually adjusting the knit Pittsburgh Steelers, he remarked nonchalantly,

“Guess I lose...you found me.”

“I could pretend I didn't...but you'll have to kiss--”

She didn't even get the playful repartee out fully,

“No.” TJ replied curtly, pulling a pink Starburst from his pocket and unwrapping it.

Rather eating it himself, he pressed it past the slightly parted, flaming red lips of his companion, and gently closed her mouth for her with a gentle push beneath the chin.

She could only stare, disappointment mixed with bubbling anger and bruised ego as TJ backed until he collided with the split log exterior wall of the manse.

“Why don't you like me, TJ?” She questioned, unable to hide the inflection of hurt in her voice, as she shoved mittened hands into the pockets of her periwinkle snowsuit.

“On the contrary...” A second candy was consumed. “...I like you very, very much, Ursula.”

“Oh?” The raven head was cocked to the side with incredulity. “You most certainly don't act like it!”
“Why?” Sharp brows raised and were partially obscured by the cap. “Because I'm not pawing you to death like my brothers every second of the day?”

“I...I mean...” Was all she could muster, feeling her cheeks starting to flame.

“One of us has to maintain a modicum of decorum in this house. You laugh and giggle and tease. Pout and make eyes at us, but you're still a woman, and we're not supposed to just grab at you, no matter how attractive we find you. At least that's what I believe. We were all taught that, but Taryll and Taj lost their minds the minute they set foot off the plane here.”

He wasn't looking at her as he spoke, instead his gaze was down at his gloves where he absently picked at the fingers, continuing, voice rising as his temper was clearly beginning to wane and get the better of him.

“I just thought since you ran around acting like a chick out of one of those old pictures, you'd would want a man to act like a Cary Grant, or Gary Cooper or Adolphe Menjou type. A gentleman type...”

“I never said you or your brothers weren't acting like gentlemen!” Ursula retorted, tossing her head so hard, her knit beret should have flown off.

“You've always behaved like gentlemen--”

“How much longer do you think we can hold out?” TJ cried so sharply she winced, her knees momentarily buckling as he'd never raised his voice at her before.

“You do know why you're here, don't you, Ursula?” He hovered over her and she suddenly felt very small.

“You know why Taj wanted to get you here? Like, you know why, right? Sure he didn't set your film lab on fire; that was just coincidence but the foot in the door he had been aching for! Do you really think that was the end of it when we'd say good night to you at your apartment and you closed the door?”

Hands were throw up in exasperation.

“Damn it, Ursula! It's been Hell for us the last four days in this cabin! Looking at you, talking to you, being around you, and still having to say good night and watch you close a door on us! Think about it. We've spent every single evening with you since we've met you. Taken you out, every night. Gone to your showcases, your speeches. Watched nothing but classic films every night with you. I didn't even know who in the Hell Adolphe Menjou was until last night and you had us watch Morocco! Brought you here. First class all the way. Don't you fucking get it by now?”

Large hands gripped her shoulders and his glare was downright blistering.

“You've got three boyfriends! All our nerves are wearing thin... and I haven't been as touchy-grabby as my brothers, because if I laid hands on you that way, I'd never let you go! You don't like to be called a Prick Tease, but I can't think of any other way to describe it. You find another way, you let me know!”

With that, he released her, and started back for the front of the house bellowing so loudly it echoed,

“Ollie-Ollie-Oxen-Free!”

Indicating the game was over.

As he left her sight, a haunting realization dawned on Ursula.

The game truly was over.

The Following Morning

Jackson Family Ski Lodge

Brent, Montana

Sleep was something that had not come easily to Ursula M. Buchanan that night.

In fact, it had not come at all.

Nothing had been out of the ordinary that evening; a dinner of grilled steak and root vegetable kabobs had been a hit with the leisurely quartet as they were washed back with a few too many prosecco cocktails.

The night had ended with the four of them reclining in the living room, Taj and Taryll subtly quarreling over whom got the honor of draping their arm about Ursula's shoulders, as they took in the first two of the six films in the William Powell/Myrna Loy Thin Man mystery series.

What was supposed to be a viewing of some of her favorite movies with her favorite people quickly devolved into an agonizing experience for Ursula.

The first film had gone off without a hitch, as the four shared from a large platter of french fries drizzled with garlic-infused aioli. All the jokes and gags drew laughs from The Teez, and Ursula was a bit relieved they were once again enjoying something that interested her.

That is, until the second film After the Thin Man began.

Per Taryll's request, a second platter of fries were brought for them to nosh on.

Eagerly, Ursula had reached with the others to further gorge herself.

Sim, white hand went out, and hovered.

While Ursula had seated herself between the two older Jacksons; TJ had seated himself on the Persian rug at her feet.

Rather than looking up at the seventy-two inch screen, he was staring directly at her.

Blob of mayo clinging to his cheek.

Even in the dimness, she could make out the vexation in his eyes. The way his mouth hung, slightly parted. Heavy with words unspoken. Screaming without a sound.

Instantly, Ursula felt sick to her stomach.

She had to get away, or she would have begun screaming herself.

There was no goodnight. No hugs. No kisses.

Ursula had simply risen and bolted.

Turned and climbed right over the couch, fleeing.

And she didn't stop until she was behind the locked door of her bedroom.

There Ursula had remained till the wee hours of the morning.

Pacing so, she should have left a permanent groove in the flooring.

TJ's words played over and over in her head like a hellish broken record.

How they'd been inseparable every night since meeting.

Why she was there.

Why she had been brought to Montana.

Not just for a vacation. Not just for relaxation.

No...that had never been the sole intent.

“You've got three boyfriends!”

That quote in particular continued to ring in her head.

Boyfriends.

It had never been explicitly expressed, but yes, The Teez, were her boyfriends.

Oh, how could she have been so blind? So stupid?

They'd never wanted to be away from her.

Appeared so dejected each time they had to stop at her door after a night out.

The way she'd casually let Taj and Taryll mess about and fondle her.

The way TJ had been a pillar of control, looking on but not daring to touch.

She wasn't an idiot...she knew what was expected of her.

Especially since the proverbial red carpet had been laid out for her on this excursion.

Perhaps she'd always known.

Yes...Yes she had.

Only...

It then hit her like a sack of bricks.

They were waiting on her. Taking their cues from her.

Even if hot under the color, and other regions of their bodies for her, they were still gentlemen and would only go so far without her consent.

The sun was just starting to rise when Ursula made up her mind.

The other spectator pump was going to drop.

Ursula quickly threw off her dress from the previous night, smothered herself in perfume, before jumping into a pale green robe.

She stopped at the mirror long enough to run a comb through her tresses, and apply a fresh layer of red to her mouth.

She was moving before her mind could connect to keep up, as she crossed the wide hall to the closed door of Taj's room.

Without a knock, she swung the heavy, oak door, and banged back bodily into the door frame.

Across the room, Taj Jackson stood near the foot of his bed, back to her.

Stark naked.

Ursula went into a full pause, gawking.

Eyes traveling from the back of his hair, where his braids brushed past broad shoulders, his smooth, pale olive back giving way to the obvious swelling of well-toned buttocks, a smattering of freckles across his left cheek.

All of which flowed down into to strong, muscular, albeit hair, legs.

Vaguely Ursula could recall Taj having once mentioned playing sports in high school and college.

Hockey and baseball if she'd heard him correctly in passing.

Her heart was in her mouth as Taj reached onto the bed, coming up with a pair of dotted Calvin Klein boxers.

How supremely built he was.

She remained quiet, watching as he stepped off into them, snapping the elastic at his waist and taking a moment to 'adjust' things up front.

Scratching at his head, Taj was yawning as he turned, the sound choking off with an odd squeak as he found he wasn't alone.

He wore surprise all over his face; the sleepiness in his eyes vacated swiftly.

“Ursula...” He growled her name rather than spoke it and was beckoning her closer with a wave of his hand.

“Tajjy...” Obeying, Ursula crossed the room to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, greeting him with a bump of her lips to his cheek.

“Hmm?” Taj's hand was on her back pulling her closer so that her bosom bumped his bare chest.

Trying to appear coy, she diverted her eyes downwards, where a bulge was presenting itself against the polka dot fabric.

She was taken aback and tried to stare at the floor instead, praying he didn't notice her cheeks flushing to near purple.

Was he really...?

“Aren't you and your brothers tired of watching those old films with me every night? It's all we've done since we got to Montana--”

“No...” Several braids hit her in the face as Taj shook his head in the negative. “If it makes you happy--”

Her hand covered his mouth and icy blue eyes narrowed.

“Stanwyck, Davis and Harlow can be entertaining for only so long. I'd like to do something different.”

Moving her hand aside, Taj raised an inquisitive brow,

“Well?”

He allowed his hand to be taken in both of hers, with Ursula kissing the top of it, winking at him.

“What would make you happy Taj?”

Devilry lit in his eyes, as they swept her figure, but he maintained a civil tongue, replying,

“I don't really care...do you have ideas—other than the films, that is?”

“I saw that big sauna downstairs. Perhaps we can try it out? We do so many things out in the cold—skiing, snowboarding, riding ATVs. It'd be nice to have a relaxing steam. I've never been done in one...”

She watched his eyes light at her intentional grammatical faux pas. “...I mean, I've never been in one.”

“I can see to it, that it's set up and ready by tonight.” Taj boldly kissed at her mouth. “...or is after dinner too long to wait?”

Bumping her nose against his, Ursula chuckled saucily,

“Good things come to those who wait.”

Spinning on her heel, she headed for the door, where a sleepy Taryll and TJ...TJ still holding a water pick in his hand...had gathered looking on curiously.

As she passed between them, patting at freshly shaved faces, she could have sworn she heard Taj comment,

“....been waiting weeks....it's about damn time!”

Later That Same Evening

That particular day had been strange, unlike any of the others that had come before it.

All the days before, Ursula and Her Teez had been inseparable, outside, having full run of the house and property.

But, oddly that day, the foursome spent the day apart...near each other, but not with each other.

Yet, they had all been in the very same room, that cavernous living room, the windows displaying the white landscape, framing the raging fire in the hearth beneath the darkened television.

Meals had come, gone, and plates cleared, but neither moved from their roosts.

Ursula had reclined on the long couch, propped up by pillows, reading her way through Lady Chatterley's Lover.

A few feet away, Taj, in baggy sweats lounged in an arm chair, flipping through an issue of Fangoria, a horror magazine, socked feet propped on the marble and glass coffee table in front of him.

Across the room, TJ sat at the massive grand piano of polished ebony, his uncle's name inscribed on the side in gold. He had been playing pieces by Chopin, Beethoven and Mozart. But having since grown bored with showing off his prowess as a pianist was now half-hardheartedly poking at keys, playing Chopsticks.

Taryll laid before the fire place on his belly, a pillow propping his arms as he focused on that infernal Snake game, cursing under his breath each time he failed to beat his high score.

“...Curiously full of vitality, but a little frail and quenched. Her woman's instinct sensed it...”

Shutting her book, Ursula cast it aside on the cushions and stood, taking time to straighten her brown and peach floral print frock.

Entirely conscious of the three heads that had turned automatically at her movement.

She took a quickly glance at the cuckoo clock mounted to the wall over TJ's head as he continued to play but neglected to look at the keys of the piano.

It was nearly half-past eight.

And dinner had been eaten more than two hours ago.

Were they waiting on her?

Waiting for her to make the first move so that the rest of them may spring into action?

Taking her time, she crossed toward Taj, who tilted his head upwards at her expectantly.

“Did...” Her voice faltered momentarily, “Did you do...what we discussed earlier?”

Braids swayed as he bobbed his head in agreement. “Yes...it's been going since this morning. You...”

His eyes went over her hungrily,

“You're ready?”

Sucking in her bottom lip coquettishly she nodded.

His hand was on her hip, gently pushing her in the direction of the staircase.

“Give us about thirty minutes. You....go change....and meet us down there, okay?”

“Okay.”

Slowly, she started away, her heart thudding so rapidly, she was dizzy.

Her head, empty.

She knew what was to come.

What was to happen.

And had just given her express consent to it.

Just as she passed through the doors, she saw all three of the Teez huddled in front of the fireplace heads together, whispering back and forth.

She couldn't back out now.

No....she couldn't.

It was too late.

Half an hour later, Ursula M. Buchanan found herself, all alone, in the long corridor leading out to the private steam room on Michael Jackson's property.

The décor of the hall, which seemed to stretch for a mile out in front of her, was quite the departure from the ostentatious, elaborate and gilt-heavy adornments of the rest of the log mansion.

No, all surrounding her was a vaulted exposed-beam ceiling overhead, the walls, gleaming split logs and the flooring, a butter-creme beige, was smooth and cool to the bottoms of her bare feet, as she walked along.

With each step she took, the sobering reality of just what was to happen to her weighed ever more heavily on her pale shoulders, as exposed by the straps of her vintage inspired swimsuit, a bloody, deep red wool, offset by white piping.

Outwardly, she may have appeared devil-may-care, particularly in her red getup, but with each footfall, she was growing more and more anxious.

Her heartbeat quickening, blood pulsing faster.

What had she done? What had she gotten herself into?

How she, Ursula, whom had only had one serious boyfriend in her scant life, now found herself with three.

Three men, not rosy-cheeked teen schoolboys, but men...wanting one of the most basic of needs for a man met.

By her and her alone.

She couldn't turn and run.

How could she? She was hundred of miles from home in a completely different state. A state she'd never been to before, nor even knew how to navigate from.

In her four days in Montana, she'd never left the compound.

Ursula had slept there, had all her meals brought to her there, had no foreseeable need to leave; and her Teez never once mentioned anything outside the gates.

She'd been complicit.

No one forced her on the plane. No one forced her onto that property or into the house.

She'd walked in of her own volition.

It had been rather clear from the moment she'd met The Teez.

The hugs, kisses, idle double entendres, all of it had been leading up to this.

Culminating over six weeks.

Six long, agonizing weeks.

The closed, heavily frosted glass door of the sauna came into view.

In the fast-moving modern world, what Her Teez had been waiting for usually arrived around date number three.

And yet, they'd gone on dozens of dates. Seeing each other every single evening. Spending the entirety of their off days together.

They had been gentlemen all the way.

But gentlemen had needs....and it was clear her gents were close to their breaking points.

She'd seen it on Taj that morning, had it yelling in her face by TJ the day before.

And Taryll....he'd never truly been able to hide it. He'd always be staring at her when he thought he was free from notice. Examining her body, bottom lip sucked in, a dreamy expression about his face that now she understood meant he'd been fantasizing about what lay beneath her clothing.

And what he'd do with it, when in his eager hands.

They all had.

The closer she got, the more Ursula began to drop the charade with herself.

She was in and had been for several weeks now, the company of the kindest and most attractive men she'd ever met.

Each night, both in Los Angeles and now in Brent, she'd gone to bed, thought of them lulling her to sleep.

She never could make up her mind whom she liked the best, perhaps that was why she held back in going “all the way” with either of them.

Now that the choice had been eliminated, with “all of the above” selected so to speak, leaving her free to act as she wanted.

Act as they wanted.

Facing the door, she stopped and bravely squared her shoulders.

Her aesthetic may have been a thirties dream right out of a Busby Berkeley musical, but the truth of the matter was, Ursula was a modern young woman and had been thrust into a very adult and modern situation.

And frankly she was tired of wearing the mask.

Slapping hands away, being touch-me-not and colder than the snow outside.

She wanted their touch, and more, as badly as they wanted hers.

That was that.

A small, shaky hand placed itself onto the brass knob of the sauna...and turned it.

As a cloud of sweet, vanilla-scented steam greeted her, Ursula took a few tentative steps forward, squinting into the considerably dimmer room.

It was quite large, as was to be expected with such an extravagant home, but unlike the others, this room was round, rather than having sharp edges.

In the very center, was the recessed seating area, made of slats of a light colored wood around a further recessed pit of hot, glowing stones.

Steam flowing steadily and abundantly.

Several pillows had been tossed about and on one end three ice buckets with bottles of wine and fluted glasses had been set up.

Lighting was low, and warm, and deeply frosted glass showed the inky blackness of the night outside.

“Excuse me, Miss...”A timid voice remarked and startled, Ursula whirled around to find the chef standing behind her.

A rather sizable platter of sliced watermelon, cantaloupe and honeydew had been arranged attractively atop a silver tray, balanced in the old cook's rough, reddened hands.

The tray was set aside with the chef quickly making himself scarce.

Nerves taking over her, Ursula plucked a crescent of cantaloupe from the platter biting at it, enjoying its bright, sweet flavor and the diversion it brought her.

If only it had lasted longer.

“Ah...I see you're getting the party started without us...” A mild voice quipped backed by what sounded like stifled chuckles.

Ursula's head popped up, and she stopped mid-chew, mouth still full of fruit.

Emerging from the thickening fog were three figures.

Her Teez....she gulped audibly, realizing they were nearly nude, as they approached and she could better see them.

TJ, flanked by Taj and Taryll wore nothing but dark green, terrycloth towels slung about their hips.

That wasn't entirely true...a thin, gold panther link chain glittered around Taryll's throat.

The young woman was struck speechless, frankly dumbfounded by the flagrant display of skin in front of her.

All three possessed wonderful, toned, upper bodies—yes she had seen both TJ and Taj topless, but never at the same time, and never before had seen Taryll.

It was clear TJ was the most fit, as his muscles, pecs, six-pack abs, the Adonis belt in particular, as the towel hung the lowest on him, revealing the shadow his trimmed, pubic curls made peeking out over the fabric.

That wasn't to say that his siblings were in anyway lacking; no, Taj and Taryll were nearly as defined, albeit with a softer quality to them.

Taryll's lower curls were as shorn down as TJ's appeared, starting on the lower half of his belly and moving downwards and out of sight thanks to the towel.

And as they were jet black, proved a stark contrast to the pale, bleached curls on his head.

Taj on the other hand, appeared to have skipped the razor completely as his thatch of curls were far more prominent and unruly erupting over the top of his towel.

Legs were long, thick with muscles and furred, with long feet slapping at the marble flooring.

Ursula could barely breathe, her heart was beating so rapidly, her airways so constricted.

She was perspiring, but couldn't tell if it were from her fractured nerves or just the heat of the room itself.

Was it the heat within her?

What were they to do with her?

“You look good in that red...” Taj noted, passing by her a whiff of his cologne breaking through the vanilla of the room.

He stared directly into her eyes with such ferocity, it sent a chill that ran the length of her spine and back.

He then went to one of the ice buckets, producing a silver corkscrew and began opening a bottle of wine.

“I think you're going to like what we have to drink tonight, Ursula...” Taj peeked back over his shoulder at her.

“Oh?”

TJ and Taryll were slowly circling around her, the mixing of their scents already leaving her quite loopy.

And she was going to pour adult grape juice on top of that, too?

“Uncle Michael allowed me to take some bottles from his wine cellar under the house...”Taj explained, cork popping and started to fill the four glasses with way more wine than they were supposed to hold. “...had to beg and plead, but he's letting us have these bottles of vintage 1939 Merlot. Something Frenchy I can't pronounce. Thankfully, Uncle Michael is more of a brandy drinker than wine or he'd have cursed me out for taking something so expensive.”

“Expensive?” Ursula echoed, taking the glass offered her and swirling it underneath her nose, noting the fruity tones and richness of the bouquet.

“Each of those bottles are about eight grand.” Taryll snickered behind her and Ursula staggered. “Uncle Michael would have a fit if he knew we'd put them on ice!”

Blue eyes went wide as Ursula realized Taj was merrily planning to consume over twenty thousand dollars in vintage red! Without batting an eye.

None of the Jackson siblings were.

“You shouldn't...” She trailed off, Taryll kissing at her shoulder as he made another pass around her, TJ running warm finger tips along her back, “...use something so costly, for me.”

“This is nothing.” Taj shrugged, handing more glasses to his siblings, the three of them automatically walking to the opposite side of the sauna and sat together facing Ursula, who managed to not completely fall onto the bench behind her.

“It's true.” Taryll chimed in as beside him, TJ drained his glass in a single gulp. “Uncle Michael has some liquors that cost more than most people's houses. But those are reserved for very special events. Weddings, things of that sort.”

TJ extended his glass to Ursula.

“More.”

“Damn you, TJ!” Taj admonished from his right, not bothering to lower his voice. “That's sipping wine! Not Kool-Aid! If you get hammered and ruin this for us, I'll beat your ass bloody!”

Taj snatched the glass and stood, followed by Taryll who lifted a triangle of watermelon and chewed on it thoughtfully.

“There's something I've been wanting to ask you for a while now...” He ruminated, free hand touching the cleft in his chin.

“What?” She looked from TJ, who was draining a second glass as Taj glared at him with hatred, to find Taryll holding a chunk of melon out to her.

She went to grab it and Taryll jerked it back holding it out, intending she eat from his hand.

Tentatively, Ursula leaned forward, allowing him to push it past her lips.

Satisfied, Taryll continued, biting more fruit, juice running down the side of his mouth.

“The day we were at the film lab...and you were all over that old dude—Blythe?”

Ursula visibly tensed up, eyes dropping down to her lap.

“Now, I've been thinking about that day ever since it happened.” The rind was dropped to the platter, the only noise.

A glance across the pit showed Taj and TJ looking on with earnest.

“You ran straight to him. I saw your coworkers, you didn't go near them; he didn't either. What's up with that?”

“He's my boss...” Her mouth was exquisitely dry and she took a sip of cold wine to compose herself.

“On the surface...” Taryll was now eating honeydew. “...but I noticed all the events we went to, only you were the speaker. None of the other coworkers. And I'm sure they're all as knowledgeable as you are about movies to be working with them. But only you are kind of the golden child of the group. To be honest, I've never even heard you mention your coworkers. But I heard you mention Blythe quite a bit. How he got you working on this movie, how he got you talking at some convention. I know you're gonna be talking on that film that almost burnt up.”

“It does look sketchy--” Taj started and was drowned out by TJ going straight for the proverbial jugular,

“Are you fucking your boss?”

“TITO JOE!” He brothers cried in exasperated unison, their curiosities laid out so bluntly.

“That's what you're hinting at. We're all adults here. You want to know something, you ask it directly.” TJ retorted arrogantly, Ursula unable to look up at him.

She could feel all their eyes on her just the same.

“I...I've never...fucked...Mr. Blythe...” She hissed, continuing to stare down where her hands had become clenched together.

“What did you do—Taj move you hand out my face before I bite you damn it!” TJ warned through grit teeth.

“TJ, we didn't bring Ursula here to interrogate her like she's on trial!” Taj shot back, shoving TJ.

“But you want to know. You and Taryll been wanting to know, but never knew how to fix your faces to ask her, with your chicken-shit asses! So I asked her for you! Quit acting all shell-shocked; you wanted to know and if you can stop bitching and wailing long enough, she might answer!”

“You're a damn lush!” Taryll accused through his chewing and was promptly ignored,

TJ was looming over her, stumbling a bit in his tipsy state.

“Well?”

The pale face turned upwards blue eyes piercing as they met TJ's golden-brown ones.

“Maybe the line between boss and employee got blurred somewhere along the way.” She snapped hotly and off to the side, Taj began swearing in Spanish under his breath.

“But I didn't let it go that far. I'd never let it go that far! I'm twenty-two, Mr. Blythe has to be at least sixty! There were a lot of late nights, early mornings, restoring films. Mr. Blythe is alone. A widower; his wife died in 1990. All he has is a cat named Rufus! Besides, I'm not ugly.”

Full of herself and spite Ursula tossed her jet waves, cutting a gaze at all three; TJ over her, Taryll holding a half-eaten slice of honeydew, and Taj still seated looking scandalized.

“Mr. Blythe told me I reminded him of a young Ann Dvorak. He's told me plenty of times, I'm beautiful—but so have you and your brothers!”

She gazed back up at TJ, with him grimacing in return.

“You are beautiful...” Taryll mumbled meekly.

“Yeah.” Taj agreed more as a knee-jerk reaction.

“Working so closely for so long with someone, you get comfortable. Perhaps he got too comfortable. Hugs lasted longer than they should have. There was a kiss here or there--”

“You don't have to tell--” Taryll sputtered, flagging at her.

“No, TJ said you wanted to know.” He fell silent when narrowed grayish slits darted at him.

But TJ, full of that liquid stupefier, couldn't seem to leave well enough alone, to his brother's chagrin.

“You can't possibly make me believe some old codger was hanging around you and stopped at hugging and kissing.” TJ simpered picking up a slice of melon and biting it and immediately choked as Ursula answered,

“Did I say it stopped at that?”

Thick brows raised and any trace of inebriation in TJ's face disappeared, sobriety hitting him like a freight train. Behind him, Taryll's jaw was hung.

“Ursula please!” Taj was scrambling around to her side, squeezing between her and his youngest brother.

Desperately trying to place a hand over her mouth, only to have it slapped away.

Ursula stood, so closely to TJ had he not tilted his head back, the top of Ursula's head would have smacked him directly in the chin.

“So, maybe I haven't been completely professional with Mr. Blythe, I'll admit that...”

She noted an expression of dire regret on TJ's handsome face, but she was too far in and flustered to stop.

“Maybe my blouse came undone a few times. Maybe I did let him look and touch. But let me tell you something TJ Jackson...” One of those strangely manicured fingertips was poked into his pec right above his small, chocolaty nipple.

“It was done with my consent. Always. Mr. Blythe would place his hands on my shoulders, quietly ask me for a peek, he never demanded anything of me, keep that in mind. And...and I obliged. I can't see any harm its done...” Her eyes dropped briefly as she decided to zing TJ straight on to Hell.

“Other than get under your skin that someone else has gotten their hands on me. Isn't that it? Isn't that the whole entire problem? Isn't that what's been eating your narrow ass alive? Especially since we've been in Montana? That you've been watching Taryll and Taj have a field day kissing and feeling on me, but you put your own self in exile.”

Red nails tapped at her chin a moment as she looked him up and down mercilessly.

His mouth was quickly puckering with indignation, and eyes flashed, but he remained silent.

“Who did you say you thought I'd want a man like? Adolphe Menjou? No...” The black haired head shook violently,

“I don't want an Adolphe Menjou. I like my Taryll, my Taj...even my Mr. Blythe from time to time. They all saw what they liked and went for it. Why haven't you?” She taunted hands going to the straps of her swimsuit, thumbs hooking beneath.

“Let me help you...”

Before any of the three could lift a finger or raise a voice to deter her, Ursula had pulled down the top.

Freeing the pair of smooth, full, white globes that were her breasts.

For a moment, time suspended.

No one seemed to move, no breaths were taken.

All was still within that damp, humid, steamy lair.

Three sets of eyes honing in on Ursula's bosom, standing proudly up off her ribcage, her areolas a softer, barely perceptible shade of pink, frankly larger than average, but nonetheless becoming when attached to such a perfect sphere of flesh.

Taj's eyes were huge behind his plaits a hand at his own chest, Taryll's mouth still dangled, eyes going from hazel to deep emerald in their socks as they bulged, TJ's thick brows raised to the point his forehead crinkled, mouth a straight line, eyes tracing their shape.

The next thing Ursula knew, she was wrapped up in TJ's strong arms, her nails digging into his moist, bare shoulder, as he reared her back, mouth baring down on hers with complete abandon.

He was kissing her so hard, they were physically staggering, like a pair of drunkards.

Well, TJ was already drifting from sobriety at that point, anyway.

TJ Jackson had waited so long, too long for this moment it seemed a million missed kisses were being made up for at once.

Her knees were growing weak, his mouth...it was too much.

Desperately, for fear she'd swoon, Ursula tried to move her head away, remove her lips from his.

She never did notice that Taj had crept behind her, taking the opportunity to put a large hand into her raven tresses, pulling her back just far enough for his plump mouth to collide with hers.

Hugging her, he was groping about her chest area, and Ursula, so taken, made no attempts to stop him.

Enjoying the surge of heat and wanton coursing through her very veins.

Eliciting moans that went down his throat.

“Me next...” Taryll hastily flung TJ out of his way, snatching Ursula from Taj's grasp.

She barely got a breath in when his mouth took over.

His kisses were softer than TJ's frantic ones, not quite as wet as Taj's.

Though all three, in their own ways were quite adept and satisfying as far as kisses went.

“Please...” She begged, gulping for air , with Taryll grabbing at her shoulders to pull her back to his aching lips.

In the background she caught sight of TJ removing his towel; casting it aside onto the floor.

And the veined, shining mass springing from his loins, before Taryll's reddened face collided with hers, him forcing his tongue down her throat.

Air...she needed air! Her lungs were near bursting and she wrestled against Taryll, unable to get a firm grip onto his damp flesh, with him easily overpowering her.

Kissing her harder, to the point he was audibly humming.

At the same time she was aware of Taj's hands gripping at the fabric of her swimsuit, pulling it away, exposing her rounded, vaguely heart-shaped buttocks and bare little triangle.

“Oh my God...” She heard him wheeze and jumped, feeling his lips pecking all over her cheeks.

Ursula was stunned; he was kissing her ass...there was no way to mistake it.

He was quite literally, kissing her ass...

And she was loving it.

A second towel flew and she knew he was also completely naked.

In her peripheral, she could make out TJ, tilting the magnum of wine directly to his mouth, drinking.

“Damn...” Taryll finally released her, taking a step back and as he did his own towel tumbled to the floor, leaving him revealed.

Much like his brother...brothers...as Taj was on his feet, beside TJ, now drinking that pricey grape juice, it was clear all three were incredibly endowed, rock solid and saluting her in the most intimate way possible.

Ursula had been with men before, her high school ex-beau, and had seen Mr. Blythe more than she was willing to admit, but was astonished by the girth showing so plainly to her.

Each of Her Teez had a grown an extra foot, perhaps more, and a cool trickle ran down Ursula's back at the idea of somehow managing to take on such...manliness.

Taryll turned, his full ass cheeks jiggling with each step as he crossed back to his siblings, polishing off what was left in the bottle.

That eight thousand dollar bottle.

And a second bottle was uncorked as easily as popping the pull-tab on a can of Coke.

A bit self-consciously, Ursula shifted from one foot to the other, cognizant of the egregious way her pale body was being ogled from across the room, Taj throwing a fistful of ice onto the pit of heated rocks, causing more steam to billow.

Taryll, bottle in hand, held it up, clearly offering her more, only to have TJ place his hand over the opening and push it out the way.

“I...don't want her drunk...” There was a slight slur to his own voice. “I want her to remember...everything...”

“You won't remember shit, yourself! You're drunk...” Taryll snorted and recoiled in agony as TJ punched him squarely in the shoulder.

“You asshole!” Taryll was bent, clutching his shoulder, instantly going purple with bruising, TJ striding around him.

He took her hand, and brought it to his mouth, kissing at her knuckles, his eyes wide and unwavering, piercing her own blue ones like golden lasers.

“You are so perfect...” His voice had dropped in decibels and the sound sent shivers through Ursula's very veins, with him raising her arm, indicating that she twirl before them.

“Perfect from every single angle...” TJ added, his lashes fluttering as he took in her immaculate white form.

His brothers appearing at his sides.

Silence entered between the four of them, and all Ursula could hear was the erratic pounding of her own heart, her pulse quickening, awaiting their next move.

Any move.

All three were looking in different directions she noticed.

TJ's eyes were on hers....but Taj was studying her bosom, his right arm starting to flap, as, unconsciously, he was stroking his shaft, bottom lip sucked in.

Taryll's eyes were lower, on her snatch, watching the whiteness go first pink, then red, as were her cheeks, the only giveaways of her mounting arousal.

It all happened so....so quickly.

TJ seemed shorter.

How did a six foot tall man suddenly appear only about four?

Ursula squinted in confusion a moment.

Oh....he had dropped to his knees on the marble in front of her.

Why was he on his knees?

His hand on her abdomen, shoving her back, so that half-fell, half-sat on the bench.

TJ positioned himself in a way that his arm caught her under both her knees, pushing them up towards her chest, effectively locking her in place and forcing her to open her legs.

Realization hit her swiftly like that punch to Taryll's shoulder.

“Wait....wait....TJ....wait...” She gasped hoarsely, watching helplessly as with a free hand TJ brought the middle finger of his left hand to his mouth, wetting it, and aimed it for that glistening little hole.

Her entire body tensed as he pressed as far as his first knuckle declaring more to himself than anyone else in the room, through pearly, grit teeth.

“Much tighter than I expected...exactly what I wanted...”

“Ah!” Ursula keened as simultaneously, his finger was forced deeper, half his face disappearing beyond her view.

“Ah! Tee—TJ!” She cried, her head falling back, feeling the tip of his damp tongue colliding with her clit.

Her legs trembled, as he leaned with all his weight, pinning her legs further, preventing her from wiggling out of position.

Her view of TJ became obscured as Taj, to her right, and Taryll to her left, both sat on their knees at her sides.

Tops of their heads nestling together as each went to kissing after and suckling on each of her breasts.

“She is so perfect...” She heard Taj hiss, Taryll's sucking plain to the ear. “...most perfect set of tits I've ever seen!”

“Stop! Stop—please!” Ursula pleaded, watching as the top TJ's head began to bob up and down, doubly assaulting her inner folds with his finger while licking at her wildly.

“Tee...” She trailed off, as Taj placed a hand on her chin, bringing her attention to him.

“Shhh...” He urged, taking her hand and pulling it loose from just under knee.

Guiding it around his swollen cock.

Up and down it.

“Yes...that's it...Yes, girl...yes, baby...yes...” He spoke off into her mouth, smothering her in kisses. “Stroke me...stroke me...”

Taryll was openly licking at her round mounds, jiggling and squeezing them to his heart's content, so happy he was laughing.

And TJ...

“Delicious little bitch...”

That was the only comment she'd heard from him, sputtered in a split second of rapture.

She tried to move her head to scream, but Taj gripped onto both sides of her face, his tongue plunging deeply into her throat, and her own voice went into his mouth and down somewhere into the pits of his stomach.

TJ has reversed his tongue and finger, now mercilessly stroking at her little bud, tongue flipping past her pink, quivering folds.

“Ugh! Ugh, Stop! Please! TJ! TJ! Damn you! STOP!” She shrieked as Taj threw his head to clear his braids from his face momentarily.

At once, all the prodding at her nether regions ceased.

Staring past Taryll's blonde head, he was still so busy hanging off her teat, he had his eyes shut, lips pursed around her nipple, Ursula saw TJ had sat back just enough to where his sharp brows were visible at the base of her abdomen.

“Are you going to cum?” TJ inquired huskily, causing his siblings to both sit up, gaze first down at him, then up at Ursula quizzically.

“YES!” She snarled, and yelped as a large hand came down, slapping at her already traumatized clitoris. “Aaaaah!”

“Fine...” TJ sat on his heels, running a hand through his mildly rumpled hair.

His eyes darted to his brothers, giving a slight nod and in response the motion was returned.

Climbing to his feet, he glanced at Ursula, trying to regain her bearings as she was allowed to straighten her legs back out, and struggling to control herself.

She had been so close to the brink already.

That quickly.

How on Earth was she supposed to last through the rest of the night?

Through the three of them?

A soft hand patted her face startling her.

“We can go upstairs now...”

* * *

“...Ugh! Ugh! Ah! Oh God! Ugh! Ah! Ah!...”

Ursula didn't really remember exactly how she wound up back in her bedroom upstairs.

“...Oh, shit! Yes! Yes! Christ—yes!...”

She had been carried piggy-back by TJ, down that long, silent corridor.

The fresh bottle of wine being passed between the three men, and as TJ had wanted her sober, she received a handful of sips compared to the gulps taken by Her Teez.

“...That's it girl! That's it baby! Right there! That's it right there!...”

Then the bottle had been ripped from her hands, TJ reiterating he didn't want her to be drunk.

“...Oh! Ay yi yi! Giiiiiiiiiiiiirl.....”

Her Teez had remained rather civil as, once they entered the Main House, quickened their pace, both as they were excited for what was to come, and also didn't want to be seen in nothing but the skin God gave them by the staff—who would surely go tattling to their Uncle Michael.

Civil, that is, until the door was shut behind them and locked securely.

“...damn!....Ah! Ugh....Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!...”

And there Ursula found herself, stretched out atop the covers of her bed, burying her face in TJ's muscular shoulder, arms and legs wrapped around him, as he thrust the full length of himself deeply into her, hitting places she never knew existed.

He was almost too large for her handle, but she too far gone at this point to even attempt to stop him.

“You're so good! Oh! You're so good! Ursula! Baby!...” He was whispering into her ear, in between sucking at the ear lobe.

Without breaking his stride, TJ managed to pull himself up, Ursula's arms falling back onto the bedding, a few beads of sweat falling from his shining forehead and dropping onto hers.

How beautiful she looked in that moment.

Her jet waves in a disarray, her scarlet cheeks, her titties bouncing freely with every movement.

How her sweet little pout was opened in ecstasy.

His fingers pressing into her supple, perfumed skin.

He was so handsome, also.

Cheeks flushed, jaw clenched, brows together in concentration as he refused to alter his rhythm.

And suddenly he was off of her...out of her...

Ursula was so enticed, that it took several moments for her to make the realization TJ was gone and had to continued to flex her hips as she had been grinding against him giving each a dual pleasure.

Slowly, the blue-grey eyes fluttered open, and focused on the brown Adonis standing along side the bed, leaning over towards her.

Soft lips pecked her ear, TJ confiding in a whisper,

“You know I...I love you, right...we all love you...”

“Don't go...” Ursula pleaded reaching, her fingertips brushing his glistening cheek and causing him to chortle.

White teeth tripled as Taj to his left and Taryll to his right, appeared, TJ snickering,

“I can't hog you, Baby...I have to share. Besides it was getting a little hotter, quicker than I expected...”

“Don't you want us too?” Taj and Taryll questioned harmoniously and all four laughed outright.

“Wouldn't that make me too greedy?” Ursula, full of herself, wondered haughtily, leaning up on one elbow.

“No...” Taj was resting his hands on peachy white thighs, looking across at Taryll, “Do you think Ursula is being greedy?”

“Hell no...” A strong, tan leg was put up on the bed, and Taryll was crawling towards her. “Girl...sexy as her...needs her options...”

“She can have all she wants...hey....” Taj was tapping at her hip. “...turn over....”

Taj Jackson had been beaming at Ursula and helping her flip onto her tummy, taking in the perfectly rounded, firm buttocks being displayed to him when TJ opened his mouth.

“You're not gonna massacre her ass are you?”

He was on the other side of the room, just outside the door to the private bath, slipping on a plush robe.

Taj's head whipped so hard his braids flew,

“Find you some fucking business TJ! What we're about to do...”

The booty was indicated with a wave of his hand.

“It's between us--”

“It is my fucking business...I was just fucking her myself.” TJ simpered but said no more, disappearing out of sight into the hall, shutting the door after him.

“Where...” Ursula asked, allowing Taj to fully turn her over.

“Lush wants more wine...” Taj replied and Ursula's eyes crossed, Taj leaning in and pecking down the length of her spine.

Hand in her hair, he pulled her back, mashing his mouth to hers.

Out the corner of her eye she could cold see Taryll reaching into a drawer on the bedside table, producing a small tube.

Squeezing a translucence red substance into his hands and rubbing it down and along his man head until it shone like new money.

The overly sweet, yet tart scent of artificial cherry reached her nose and Ursula knew it was a flavored lubricant.

“Taj.” The tube was tossed over her head where Taj intercepted it.

“You're not even gonna ask me if I want this?” Ursula teased, watching him smear the jelly onto his engorged member.

“I don't see you trying to make a break for the door, Sugar...” Taj cackled a hand on her back he shoved her with so first that she fell forward, and if it weren't for her twisting slightly she would have gotten her eye poked out by Taryll's dick, rather than landing on his furry thigh.

“Maybe if you'd get off me, I'd have a chance.” Ursula growled, not truly upset, as Taryll helped her get into position to...receive him.

“Too late!” Taj giggled and Ursula rose up as he slapped her backside powerfully, causing her to jump nearly a foot into the air.

“TAJ!”

“Got her screaming, already!” Taryll laughed, laying back against the pillows, a sure smile on his lips.

“That's what I like...” Taj had an arm around her waist. Hugging to her, kissing at the back of her neck, pausing to watch, as she took hold of Taryll's shaft.

How very small her hand looked struggling to wrap around it.

“That's it Baby...” Taryll urged through his teeth as red lips curled around his pinkish tip.

“Take your time...we got all night....Damn...”

Slowly, Ursula took him into her mouth, that bulbous tip tickling past her esophagus, his as his pubic hair brushed her lips and nose.

Smelling so wonderfully strong of his cologne.

And the taste of the cherry lube...she was dizzy.

“God...she's deep-throating it...” Taryll gasped his head falling back, his own mouth agape. “Yes! Yes! This is all I've wanted for weeks! God damn it!”

As the dark head went to bobbing on him, Ursula half-panted, half-snorted onto him as she felt Taj fumbling a moment, then finding his way into her.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit” The word was exhaled in one blow and she trembled.

“I know girl...I know....it's big...you made it big...” Taj was in her ear, his damp cheek to hers, as, at first slowly, he found his rhythm.

And was plunging away at her.

As the same time, Taryll rested had his hands in her hair, partially holding it out the way, partially forcing her up and down his fun pole more rapidly.

“That's why you're here...” Taj taunted hands finding her breasts and kneading them. “That's why you came here with us...God you're tight!...you wanted this...you know you wanted this...”

“You've got a mouth...mouth like an angel...fuck!” a fist pounded at the mattress as Ursula, struggling to find control in the waning situation—Taj was twirling his hips against her, causing her eyes to cross from carnal pleasure—perched her mouth just past the tip of Taryll, and began running her hand, tightly curled as best she could around him he was so large, stroking him.

Over and over...

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck1 Ursula! Girl! Goddamn!” Taryll was starting to physically writhe against the pillows. “Baby! Baby—Ursula!”

“I can hear you up and down the damn hall!”

Suddenly, TJ was there, toting the silver ice bucket with the last bottle of wine.

“I don't give a---ARE YOU LICKING MY BALLS?” Taryll's head snapped down and his hazel eyes consumed his face as he stared in wonder at Ursula.

Yes, yes she was.

A blue eye winked at him.

“Oh my God!”

Red lips were working their way up his body, across his toned abdomen, to the middle of his chest.

“Come back here!” Taj was pulling on her hips, dragging her back down the bed onto himself.

“No—Tajjy!” Ursula couldn't help laughing as Taj pulled her upright on her knees, his tongue flashing against her shoulder.

Reaching to rub at his strong neck, feeling his six pack flexing against her back, she asked of him,

“Am I still so old-fashioned?”

“Hell no...” His lips pressed hers.

“I knew all that Old Hollywood shit was an act...” TJ was on his knees in, “standing” even with her, pinching at her nipples, and slapping her breasts playfully.

“Its not an act—ow! I bruise easily!” Ursula argued slapping his cheek causing him to grin devilishly at her.

“Do you?”

Ursula trembled as Taj, hands on her shoulders to hold her up, went back to grinding into her.

“Ugh...Taj! Stop...Stop! Please!” She begged, and again tried to pull away, only to have her hips pulled back.

A new hand grasped her throat and eyes once closed flew open to find Taryll staring at her.

“Nah...” A finger waved in her face. “You came here, willingly...You want this.”

“We can't let you go now...” TJ echoed as he and Taryll each took one of her hands, placing them around each of their hardened masses.

“You belong to us.”

“And we belong to you.” Taryll pecked at her cheek.

“Tell me you want this...tell us...” TJ urged, eyes narrowing at her.

At the same time, Taj was wrapping arms around her waist to steady himself.

“I...Ugh...”

TJ held a hand up, causing Taj to stop though he didn't withdraw from her trembling moist folds.

“SAY IT!”

“I...” Three sets of eyes were burning holes into her.

She couldn't lie. Not now. Not in a position like this!

TJ's thumb was tracing her lips as she battled to force out the words.

“I...I...I want this.”

That was all the provocation needed.

Instantaneously, movement resumed.

Taj ramming her from behind with so little abandon an audible clapping sound was produced as his furry pubis made contact with her buttocks continually.

At the same time she was alternating between stroking and sucking the younger two of Her Teez.

The two of them reacting in vastly different ways.

Taryll, his blonde head thrown back, was emitting a low hum of ecstasy, mouth opened and fixated on the ceiling, fists clenched at his sides.

TJ, in the other hand, was watching her, head lowered, bottom lip sucked in, thick brows raised near his hairline.

And in a room of humming, gasping, panting and clapping, TJ was eerily silent.

Watching this gorgeous, pale creature doing obscene things to him and his sibling with her mouth.

Ursula herself was in a state of awe.

Awe at what she was doing; what she was allowing to be done to herself.

Yes, somewhere in her mind, she had figured she'd end up in a a state like this.

But now, actually in the moment, she was almost having an out of body experience.

Though she couldn't physically see Taj, as she was throat deep in the crotches of his brothers, she could envision how his handsome face was contorted from his sexual efforts, sweat pouring from his brow as she could feel droplets splashing along her back.

Suddenly he was talking through grit teeth,

“I'm almost there, I'm almost there...Ursula! Oh shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Baby! Fucking Hell!”

Ursula had to nearly push TJ away, to get his hand off the back of her head, as Taj was wailing into harder than any man ever had before, spitting him out as she fell forward onto the sheets, clawing at them.

“Taj! Taj! Please! I'll come! Stop! Taj!” She cried into the bedding, the little vestiges of control she had left leaving her, as with a yell, Taj pulled himself from her.

The combined noises of him swearing in Spanish, the feeling of him tapping the tip of his cock against her left ass cheek and the ensuing warm wetness splashing about and up her back.

There was no rest for the weary as Taj went directly back to plowing into her.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ugh! Damn! Ugh! Ugh! Taj! Goddamn you—AH!”

Ursula was so occupied with what Taj was doing to her, she never noticed that Taryll had taken her hands from him and had begun yanking himself on home.

That is, until his white hot love shot across her face, causing her to recoil and in turn almost hit Taj in the nose with the back of her head.

“Oh God...oh shit...” Taryll, rosy-cheeked, choked out, slipping off the side of the bed and out of sight, so only his bare feet were visible.

Reaching past her, TJ placed his hands on her hip, starting to shove her against Taj, both combining their efforts to get her off, while at the same time Ursula kept flapping and pulling at TJ, a mix of crying out in dirty pleasure and kissing along him and across his strong thighs.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

TJ, body bucking wildly, shrieked, a loud, guttural sound from his inner depths.

Ursula just managed to get her face out the way as TJ shot a streak across the floor, with him abruptly falling onto his back on the bed, one hand gripping hers.

The last one standing was herself, and with no one's pleasure to consider other than her own, she held TJ's hand, moaning incoherently as Taj kept moving deeper and deeper into her.

Somewhere in the fray, Taryll appeared, grasping her free hand, and holding it to his lips.

“Oh....Oh....OH! OH! Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!”

Her own joy began escaping her, running down her thighs and off onto Taj's, her shaky, jellified legs finally giving out and with a sharp intake of breath she sagged against staj who pecked her neck.

“That's right...that's what we wanted....yes...”

Was the last thing she heard as exhaustion took her and all went black.

* * *

“...you've turned my ski lodge into a den of ill-repute!”

“We did not, Uncle Michael!”

“Who told you that?”

“We're on vacation like we told you, Sir!”

Ursula, now draped in a satin robe that matched her eyes, sat silently in the center of the divan as Her Teez, wearing matching green silk robes, were trailing behind their horrified relative, as he continued to scold them over his shoulder, while staying a few steps out of reach.

“You don't need to know who told me!” Michael, scandalized, spun on his heel, and waved his arms in frustration. “All you need to know is someone here, under my employ said they hadn't seen any of the four of you in days. Taking meals in that one room, only a hand coming out to receive the trays? If I knew--”

“YOU DID KNOW!” TJ's voice enveloped all and his brothers, closer to him staggered at the noise while Michael's pink mouth became a stern line of fury.

“You knew we were all dating Ursula! You all knew we were interested in her! Why else would three men bring a woman to a secluded snowy get away?”

It was then, Ursula saw a strange expression come to Michael Jackson's face.

His mouth remained set, but his eyes.

His eyes were darting at her, in a way that let her know...

Damn it, Hell...he had known.

He had known the whole, entire time.

And now Ursula was on her bare feet, mouth open in questioning,

“You knew it, Michael! You all knew it—it was all planned from the start, wasn't it?” She gasped, and four sets of shoulders sagged.

There was a long interval of silence before Michael Jackson spoke up, his voice soft and low.

“Yes, Ursula. I knew. 'From the start' as you said.” He slowly approached her, his hand wringing lightly in front of him.

“My nephews are quite taken with you, and had wanted to bring you here...so you could feel like one of those film stars you idolized on a vacation. This was all a set up...went kind of crooked because some people can't shut up quickly enough...”

Taj and Taryll were glaring at TJ, who found his own feet the most fascinating thing on Earth and was staring at them.

“But yes, my nephews are quite attracted--”

“We...we love her Uncle Michael.” Taryll interjected and Ursula felt her chest tighten as his brothers echoed the sentiment in murmurs.

Love?

They loved her?

Blinking back tears, she heard herself choke out,

“I...I love you too!”

She ran past Michael into the open arms of Her Teez, kissing each in turn, with them all hugging tightly.

“I think we're going to need a house at some point...” Taj chuckled over her head to which Michael replied with a giggle,

“I'll look into it—but only if I can attend the showing of that silent film, Camille, also!”

Beaming back over her shoulder at him, Ursula laughed through her tears,

“You've got it!”