What Comes With The Territory Ch. 02-05

Chapter 2

"Vic, Amy?" Mom's voice called out to us, so we got dressed in a hurry, of course, as did Anastassia, of course.

We all enjoyed having our dirty little secret from Mom, as much as we loved her, naturally. She wasn't ready for home truths yet, was she? Then again, Victoria Lynne Brock, nee Silverman, widow of Andre Luc Habib and Gary Mellon Brock, was born at night, but probably not last night. Even with the wine and grief, she might well catch onto us, anyway. She wasn't exactly drunk coming back from Congregation Mitzvah on the Sabbath, of course.

"Hey, Mom, it's just ... us ... and Anastassia," I answered Mom, now that I was "decent," as some folks might put it.

"What were you doing that took that long to greet me, kiddo? Something naughty?" Mom winked at me in a way that made me wonder (for the thousandth time) if she really did know what I did with Amy and Anastassia.

"Very cute, Mom. Just like you," I flattered Mom to an extent, as her sorrows had aged her a bit of late.

Truth be told, though, Mom wasn't really that old in appearance. She just had some wrinkles and gray hairs caused by time and grief. To be fair, I was forty-three and she had me when she was nineteen, so that put her at sixty-two. For that age, she wasn't too badly off. She was close to retirement age, but had yet to give in to that urge. Some of that was that she loved her work as an advice columnist for a local rag. I often wondered about the advice that she gave, but no serious lawsuits happened, so perhaps she wasn't too bad at it. Then again, she got one or two death threats, that wasn't too shocking for her vocation.

"Flattery will get you ... everywhere, of course!" Mom burst into laughter, my playful flirtation helping to break the ice, "did you light the Shabbos candle?"

"No, Amy did earlier. She wanted to, right, sis?" I told Mom while Amy slid her right hand into the back of my pajama bottoms and Anastassia did the same with her left.

"You know ... you three seem very chummy ... almost like you're having yourselves a sleepover. Is Anastassia your ... girlfriend ... or what? Lover? Friend with benefits, that's the term, I think? Booty call?" Mom tried to decipher the coded clues of our body language, "oh, my ... oh, my ... you're doing them both!"

"Um ... yeah, Mom ... I don't see any point trying to deceive you anymore. We've grown ... very close over the years, Amy and I ... and well, Anastassia, she's very intimate with me. She also has a boyfriend of her own," I confessed.

"Wow ... wow ... wow! I really have been self-absorbed not to notice an incestuous bond between my son and daughter! Well, strictly speaking, it's not kosher, you know that ... none of this. Still, I must confess that you're not doing any real harm if you've gone this long without any actual inbreeding. As for Anastassia, well, as long as she knows ... and her boyfriend knows ... it's well, consenting adults, right?

"This is the twenty-first century, I would say. I'm not sure just how angry God would get about this. That's between you three and him ... and I'm not a complete prude. Not absolutely. I mean, morally, this is all wrong, I think. It flouts the Torah, canon law, at least one state law, and most of society's conventions, but you're not ... you know ... hurting anyone. I've read a lot worse in my advice column, trust me.

"I just ... well, I hope that somehow, I get some grandkids out of this who don't have webbed feet and warped psyches, that's all I ask of you guys," Mom sounded as flustered and flummoxed as she looked, of course, at my confirmation of the truth.

"Well, we're all adults here, even Amy," I managed to tease my baby sister, triggering a wet willy.

"All consenting adults, too, Mrs. Brock," Anastassia added hastily, a lump forming in her throat for a moment there, "as you yourself noted."

"Have you eaten anything yet, Mom?" Amy cleverly changed the subject, allowing Mom to relax a little.

"No ... not yet. I haven't had any wine yet this evening, though I've smoked enough cigarettes to give me emphysema already today," Mom acknowledged.

"Mom ... you need to eat. All of us do. Since it's the Sabbath ... let's just ... call for some delivery. That shouldn't take so long. And in case you wondered, yes, this is ... rapidly turning into a sort of sleepover, I guess," I encouraged Mom while giving her a slight kiss on the cheek.

Mom then grabbed my face and planted a lip lock on me, much to my shock.

"Sorry, don't read anything into that, Romeo. I just wanted to know what the girls here were getting ... what the fuss was about ... damn, son! Sorry, didn't mean to swear on the Sabbath, but you get the idea. Is that a snake in your pajamas or are you just happy to see me?" Mom teased me a little.

"Mom ... truth time ... are you sure that you didn't have any wine today?" I confronted Mom, having sworn that I could smell it on her breath.

"Okay ... maybe a little with my rabbi at his place after temple ... he's kinda cute! You two should go to temple again. Maybe Amy could marry him and you could find a good Jewish girl who isn't your sister to wed," Mom giggled a bit.

"Alright, Mom, I'm cutting you off at least until the pizza shows up ... your usual?" I asked Mom, not taking anything that she said too seriously right then.

"Yep ... veggie pizza! Yummy! What about you guys?" Mom answered while I got my revenge by slipping my hands down the backs of Amy's and Anastassia's bottoms in turn.

Both girls squirmed a bit, but I could smell their arousal ... and so could Mom. She just gave me this look that said..."holy smokes, how did I make such a man ... little ol me." I got the impression that Mom found me physically attractive now, even if she didn't before, but then she was lonely and at least half-drunk. She had badly understated her level of intoxication now.

I just hoped that Rabbi Michael Schulman took her car keys and drove her home himself if he was gonna get her that buzzed. Well, at least she made it home safe, but I wasn't too thrilled with the rabbi right at that moment. If he wanted to seduce her, fine, but leave the wine out of it when dealing with a drunk. To be fair, maybe he didn't know that she was a lush, but in that case, what kind of a rabbi was he?

"Sausage ... I adore ... sausage!" Amy winked at me as she made her double entendre clear.

Anastassia then answered, "So do I, but pepperoni in my case. Some ... kind of sausage are better than others ... and it's clear that none of you are kosher."

"That obvious?" I chuckled, making Mom snort the Perrier that she grabbed to drink until I permitted her to have some more wine.

"You three ... wow ... what's it gonna be like if or when I meet Anastassia's boyfriend?" Mom laughed and blushed some more.

"Mom's what gotten into you? All strict and observant one minute, flirting with my brother the next? Catching onto every last double meaning and pun, too, giggling like a schoolgirl? You sound almost as if something is ... bothering and you've just ... stopped giving a fuck or something, pardon my French," Amy confronted Mom now.

"Um ... okay, promise not to freak out? Please ... it's ... horrible news. I ... some weeks ago ... I went through a routine health check ... and ... lung cancer!" Mom broke down into tears.

"Mom ... can't they do chemo, operate, give you radiation?" I pulled Mom close and she cried on my shoulder now, even as I knew better.

"No, baby ... it's far too late. Stage IV. I'm dying. I have ... maybe, with chemo, which would just make my end longer and less enjoyable ... three months, four tops. And that's if I quit smoking now, but at this stage, what would be the point? Without chemo or radiation, I'm a goner in just ... six weeks. Hence the gallows humor earlier. Oh ... honey ... I'm so scared!" Mom held tightly to me while I held her close and let her cry it out, all of us very sad now.

"Shhh ... shh ... we're gonna miss you, Mom ... but we're not going anywhere. We'll be with you, every last step of the way. Any other news?" I tried to lighten the mood a little with a joke.

"Well, the rabbi popped the question after I told him the news. That's why he gave me some wine. At this point, he figured, what harm could it do? It might even steel my nerves here or there as I face my doom. I told him that he should hit on Amy, not me. He doesn't need to be a widower. I know that pain all too well from two husbands dying on me. I don't wanna put him through that. He's a good man," Mom informed us.

"What did he say to that?" I wondered now.

"Yes, Mom ... I gotta know. Mind you, I'm not getting married. I refuse. I can't marry the man that I love, so I'll stay Ms. Amy Cordelia Brock for the rest of my days. Mom, please ... accept us. I don't want any differences at this point of our lives," Amy spoke a mouthful now.

"Yes, Mrs. Brock, please accept us ... fully. We love your son, far more than even we knew, I think," Anastassia reassured Mom, "we'll take great care of him, I swear. Married or not, whatever it takes, I'm never dumping Victor."

"In that case ... call me ... Mom, please. And he told me, in no uncertain terms that 'Amy's cute and all, but she's not the woman that I love. That's you. I follow my heart in matters like this, and my heart chooses you, Vicky.' He knew ... from what I've told him, how painful and hurtful it could be, but he hasn't experienced it yet. Check in with him for me, now and then. He's gonna be your new stepfather, the last, the one who will finally outlive me," Mom informed us now.

"So ... you accepted his proposal? Where will he live?" I asked her directly.

"Here ... so ... please ... be discreet. It's only while I live. I need him. He's gonna be there for me, just as you two ... okay, you three, will. I cannot spurn the love of a man willing to wed a dying woman, especially one six years his senior. Maybe he'll let someone housesit for him. Maybe one of you guys ... or all of you. You'll all come to the wedding, right?" Mom asked us.

"Of course, Mom!" Amy hugged Mom now.

"Hell, yeah!" I told her with a hug before calling the pizzeria in question now.

"Definitely ... Mom," Anastassia tried the title on for size.

"When will it be? This is a bit of a time crunch, of course," Amy noted, recalling that we hadn't been to temple in forever ... and dreading that part of the package.

"Saturday night, a week from tomorrow. Yeah, I know, short-notice, but as you observed, I don't have a lot of time. Marriage will permit him to serve as next-of-kin, as you know. I'll have to re-write the will to include him, you know that, right? You'll lose ... some of your inheritance, just not most of it, I swear. To be fair, I'll spread the pain out a bit between the two of you," Mom warned us.

"Oh, Mom, the last thing that anyone right now cares about is money, okay? Trust me on that point!" Amy insisted.

"Exactly," I backed my sister up ... I trusted Mom, even now, and besides, I had a trust fund from Dad ... just as Amy had from Gary.

"There's ... something else that you need to know. Your father, Victor ... he was ... a ... mercenary. He wasn't there as a non-combatant at all. He served with some Maronite militia troops. He was ambushed by a Syrian patrol, but because he worked directly with the CIA, NSA, Mossad, etc., he could never be acknowledged as such. Don't get me wrong. He was every bit the horndog that you knew him to be. I knew that about him, okay? I just chose to look the other way, a decision that I still don't regret.

"Gary ... Gary ... was, well, Gary. He also didn't keep it in his pants. I have this tendency to marry goyim with wandering eyes, I guess. I also know Michael isn't the faithful type, either. As with the others, I take what comes with the territory. He's Jewish, which is a first for me, marrying within the Faith for once. Mother could look down with pride for a change, I guess. 'Look, Mother, I finally wed a good Jewish boy, right?' But, yeah, I looked the other way for Gary, too.

"I was also ... unfaithful ... but only toward the end of my marriage to Gary. With Michael. Yes, that's right ... it's time to be honest with you. I've been Michael's lover for a while now. It's bad of me, judging and scolding you guys when I've been an adulteress for about a year. It wasn't revenge for the affairs. It was loneliness due to the opioids. I don't know how much actual womanizing he did after the opioids took over. I don't care that much, either, to be honest. I just never was that jealous.

"I actually missed the philandering by then, believe it or not. He always came home to me from the other women, just as Andre did. He didn't come back from his love affair with opioids, initially caused by pain from a car wreck. Remember that nasty one, guys? Yeah, that started him down that dark path. It wasn't his fault, not really. And yes, I still miss the hell out of him, just as I do with Andre.

"And yes, I love Michael. Dearly. Too much to push this on him. Enough that I was willing to match him up with my own daughter if she was so inclined. You know, he's divorced, and yes, it was for his cheating. And hers. And sundry other things, too many to mention here. I would apologize for pimping you out to him, Amy, but you never struck me as the jealous type, unless I'm entirely mistaken about you, dear. Neither of you seem to be. You got that honestly. From me," Mom rambled, but none of us minded listening to her.

We didn't know how much time we had with her anymore, after all. We wanted to milk that time for all we could get from her. We coveted nothing from her but time and her company. So, she she was a rambling, alcoholic, chain-smoking, gossipy, sometimes hypocritical advice columnist. She was Mom ... even to Anastassia now.

We could sit there and listen to her while waiting for the pizza to arrive. Each of us held hands now, my right hand in Amy's left on the living room carpet, my left hand in Anastassia's right, Amy's right hand in Mom's left, and Mom's right hand in Anastassia's left. This circle just happened naturally, organically, without any kind of pressure or effort.

"That's my advice to you now, what I'd tell everyone if I am honest ... some things are dealbreakers, guys. You have to draw a line. Infidelity ... it isn't one of them. Don't let flaws like that get in the way of happiness. The more that I think about it, the more like a hypocrite I sounded earlier for judging your little arrangement. It's not very ... kosher, but then neither am I.

"It is quite civilized, if you think of it. Far better than jealous outbursts, murder, divorce, deliberately trying to impoverish someone who built a life with you because they slipped up or had human weaknesses or needs ... or any other 'burn the bitch or bastard' kinda childish response. That goes for men and women alike. The closer I get to death, the more I realize that silly social rules like ... marital fidelity, those traditions, conventions, etc ... they just don't amount to a hill of beans. Not in the grand scheme of things.

"I don't regret for a moment the time that I had with both husbands, the marriages, the lives we built ... and the children that we made together. Sure, most religions would tell us that how you live is wrong. They would also tell me that I should have divorced both husbands for their infidelity, that I was wrong for having an affair with Rabbi Michael Schulman when we both needed each other, etc. I'm still a good Jewish girl at heart ... but I have found that God is bigger than what we think of him. Michael helped to teach me that.

"Yes, as you've likely noticed, I've grown more religious and spiritual over time, but not more ... judgmental, not more self-righteous or sanctimonious. I think that God is far more ... compassionate and understanding than much of his fan club tends to be. I guess what I'm trying to say here is ... just stop worrying about what your old lady or the rabbis or society or anything else ... anyone else ... might say or think about you.

"It's taken me sixty-two years, an unorthodox spiritual guide, and a terminal illness to grasp this, near the bitter end of my life, but it really hit home when I heard Anastassia declare that she would never desert you, husband or no husband. That's ... love. That kindness. That's basic human decency. It might not be what society approves, but fuck society, right? We all do what we need to do. If this way of life, sharing, swinging, incest, etc ... if it brings you comfort and joy, why not do it?" Mom finished her little homily or rant or tirade, whatever it might be called, really bringing peace ... and release to the four of us now.

"Mom, are you in danger of becoming a 'bad Jewish girl' instead of a good one?" I teased her to lighten the mood as the pizza guy arrived.

"Maybe, but I think that you guys will take what comes with the territory. That's what you gotta do in life. Find love ... fall in love ... and just ... take what comes with the territory. That's how you find love and acceptance ... by giving it," Mom told me as I returned with the pizzas, having tipped well ... and been kissed for my pains by the cutie at the door.

"You're right, Mom ... and that's what I'll have to just accept what Oswald just sent me in this text. He wants me to be his ... hotwife. I've heard of this way of life, the hotwife lifestyle. Just from porn, mind you ... but well, you get the idea. Now I know why he is so happy to accept my love for Victor.

"If he can pop the question, knowing this about me ... I can ... accept his kink and try to make it work for both of us. I love him, just as I love Victor. If he wants a hotwife, I'll be the best damn hotwife ever!" Anastassia told me as she bit eagerly into the pepperoni pizza.

"You know that means dominating him to a certain extent, too, right?" Amy warned Anastassia, being the good friend that she was.

"Yeah, that was the part that I had to decide to accept. The sharing was already agreed. It was the part where I am committing to step out on him in a more ... aggressive fashion. That was a bit of a shocker, I won't lie, and a large part of why I've been so damn quiet," Anastassia noted.

"Yes, that does explain it a bit," I caressed her cheek along with Amy's at once, determined to show both of them plenty of affection.

Chapter 3

"Make ... love to me, son. Please. Now. On the dining room table, right next to the pizza. Michael already gave me a 'bucket list' hall pass, just in case I might feel the need for it. I'm cashing it in to ... for once in my life, know what it means to be fucked by my own son. He doesn't want me to have any regrets, you know," Mom stripped down to her underwear now.

"Do it, bro!" Amy egged me on now.

"Do it, papi. Chinga tu madre!" Anastassia encouraged me as I dropped my pajama bottoms and Amy unhooked Mom's panties for me.

Before I knew it, having barely touched my own pizza (Hawaiian-style with pineapples and Canadian bacon), I slid into my own mother's dripping wet pussy to fuck her at last. I could sense that she had been ... steeling herself for this moment, showing signs of relief in hindsight that I was intimate with my own sister and another man's girlfriend. It would make me easier to seduce ... it also explained why Mom was so easygoing on us about it. Well, that and the wine, which might have also been part of letting her kick back and go with the flow.

"OH ... MY ... GOD!" Mom screamed as she felt me really hit the downward strokes and her own legs land on my shoulders.

"See how intoxicating Victor can be, Mom? See why I can't just ... give him up for a good Jewish boy? He might be a bad Jewish boy, but he's a great man ... and he's my brother ... and the love of my life. And his dick is to die for ... sorry, bad choice of words!" Amy blushed at her unfortunate turn of phrase.