Chapter 31 #2
He has Christmas lights twirled around his period style lanterns on each side of the doorway, and purple baubles hung on the twisted vines on either side of the path.
I fucking love Heath’s place. It’s a goth heaven.
The arrived click on the app is nothing but a formality. Josh is already knocking at the door before we get the reply.
“Heathy baby!” Josh yells when our lover appears, and I almost piss myself laughing to see Heath in a blue snowflake patterned jumper that practically mirror’s Josh’s. The snowflake jumper duo.
Heath gestures us inside, and grabs me in a bear hug, kissing me over and over on the cheek.
“Happy Christmas, sweet curva.” He pulls away to admire my outfit. “What a festive angel.”
“I’m hardly an angel in white for the top of the tree.”
“I’d rather you as a scarlet vixen in sparkles.”
“I chose well, then.”
“You always do.”
It takes me aback to be here again. Once again, I admire Heath’s decor as the two guys hug and kiss and jibe each other over their jumpers.
Heath’s black jacquard wallpaper contrasted by strips of white are after my own heart.
I check myself out in his huge black framed mirror at the end of the hallway, and take a glance above it at his framed pictures…
Black, purple and neon green.
His taste just like Josh’s.
And I can’t help but wonder… if someday. Just maybe. Those pictures will have some more alongside them.
Pictures of us.
My heels clack as I walk across Heath’s tiled black and white floor, my hand sliding across the grand ebony banister rail.
I walk on into the living room with its massive period looking fireplace, and his bookshelves on either side.
I kick off my heels on his purple rug with flecks of green and take a seat on his black sofa, getting myself comfy with his big cartoon lip cushion.
Heath’s fire is lit, burning bright. His tree is black with purple fairy lights, and the baubles are neon green. And as for the tree topper, it’s a great choice. A sparkling silhouette of a bat, that must be bespoke, because you’d never find one like that on the high street. No chance.
Our host grabs a bottle of red from the kitchen. He pours out our glasses with a season’s greetings, and Josh doesn’t hold back from drinking this time. The driving limit doesn’t apply anymore tonight.
“What an absolute delight,” our host says. “I’m so used to solitary festivities outside of celebrity socials. I was expecting a night holed up with mince pies and The Nightmare Before Christmas.”
His cool blue eyes are magnetic as he looks at Josh.
“I’m honoured, truly.”
“Nah,” Josh says, and pulls him in for another hug. “We’re honoured. Ella was practically dancing about the place when you accepted the date change.”
“So were you!” I say. “Don’t play it down, Josh. You were grinning like the Cheshire cat.”
“I had a grin myself, in fact,” Heath tells us. “Quite a wide one.” He laughs. “And quite a hard dick at the thought of a Christmas fuck under the tree. It needs a christening. It’s been barren for years.”
I’m absolutely gagging to christen Heath’s Christmas tree, but there is much more to this gathering than his dick.
He’s being surprisingly wary. I can read it behind his smile. The walls still up, ever so slightly.
“We didn’t just come here for your steely cock,” I say. “I mean, we love your dick and all, and can’t ever get enough of it, but that’s not the reason we’re here today, and you know it.”
“Jesus, Ells,” Josh says. “We’re barely through the door and you’re getting serious. At least finish up your glass of red before getting to the heart to heart.”
He’s laughing, but I’m not, because his walls are still up, too. Just a touch.
But mine aren’t.
I have no walls left to come down. They are already demolished and the broken bricks have been bulldozed away.
“You guys both know why we’re here, so just admit it. To us and not to normal. Normal can go fuck itself, because Christmas is special. It’s real. It’s about being with the people you love.”
Both guys look at me as I raise my glass.
“So, here’s to us, and the road ahead. Here’s to being with the people you love at Christmastime.”
“Well, I’m down for that,” Heath says, and raises his glass. “Here’s to being with the people you love at Christmastime. It’s a new one for me.”
“Here’s to being with the people you really fucking adore, beyond anything else in the world, at Christmastime,” Josh says. “Cock or not, it has nothing to do with it. Just call that a Christmas bonus.”
When the guys join lips this time, the wine is forgotten. Heath kisses my boyfriend as though he’s life itself, and my heart pangs to think of Heath having spent years alone on Christmas Day.
It was because I was so desperate to be with the people who love me last Christmas that I joined The Agency in the first place, to raise money for the flights to get to them, and here we are with a new kind of love.
Josh isn’t just my boyfriend anymore, that’s obvious from the way the two of them kiss like star-crossed lovers. He’s Heath’s boyfriend, too.
It suits me just fine.
It suits me better than fine.
It suits me better than anything else there could possibly be in the world.
Because I want to be Heath Mason’s girlfriend, just as much as I’m Josh’s. I know where I want our road to lead, no matter what the cost.
I put my wine glass down on the coffee table and cast aside the cartoon lip cushion, getting to my feet to join the pair of loved up men and press myself against them. They include me in their kisses with smiles, all three of us as one besotted trio beside Heath’s eccentric Christmas tree.
And this is where I’m planning to stay, as long as Heath will have us.
Our suitcase is in the car, with enough attire to last us through to New Year’s Eve, and our proposals don’t begin again until the third.
Another Naughty Week ahead for us, only this time it’s in the heart of London, in the chill of frosty mornings rather than the sunny glow of Cannes.
Something tells me from the joy in Heath’s eyes between kisses that we’re both going to be very welcome guests. He sighs and holds us tight, and whispers a thank you that melts my heart.
And wow. What a Christmas night we have with the third person in our sacred trio.
Traditional in the best kind of eccentric way.
We eat mince pies, and watch The Nightmare Before Christmas, even though we’ve all seen it a million times before. We play a game of Scrabble, with bonus points for swear words, and get pissed on red wine.
We hug and we kiss, and we enjoy our weird gothic festivities like a weird little gothic family, and then, just as Heath wanted to, we christen the base of his Christmas tree.
All fucking night long.
Seriously, all fucking night.
My pussy is aching, and my ass is burning, and my mind is blasted by the pounding my two gorgeous idols give each other. Two sets of barbells get very, very dirty. Two sets of balls get emptied to fuck. And three horny people are satiated beyond belief under the twinkling fairy lights.
We’re still awake on Boxing Day morning, fuzzy headed but buzzing. Josh has brought our suitcase in from the car, and we’re all robed in our fluffy dressing gowns as Heath gets some toast on for breakfast.
It’s like a home from home. That’s how I feel about it.
Heath’s manor is a home from home.
And I intend to put that across to him.
I’m still drunk as I eat some more chocolates before the toaster pops, and I’m drunk enough to blurt the inevitable out – obeying the call of my heart and not my brain.
“I told The Agency,” I say to Heath. “And I’m sorry I blurted and all that, because it wasn’t my place, and it was reckless and stupid and could have cost me my job. And Josh’s. But it was worth it, because I needed to know.”
“Needed to know what?” Heath asks as he butters our toast.
I take a breath.
“I needed to know we had options, for if things get serious with a client, and feelings get involved and we don’t want to be entertainers with them anymore.”
“And what was the answer?” my iconic lover asks. “What did The Agency have to say about it? Did they give you a slap on the wrist and tell you to forget it?”
I shake my head.
“Nope. They didn’t.”
Heath’s eyebrows raise. His blue eyes pierce mine. And I see Josh at the side of him, unable to hold back a smile.
I keep talking.
“They said it was up to us and our clients to work that out, just so long as we weren’t charging them for it.”
“So, I get your services for free?” Heath laughs. “What a bonus. Not that I wouldn’t be booking up your calendars as frequently as possible regardless.”
Josh clears his throat, and his expression turns serious. He grips Heath’s shoulder, and my heart thumps.
It’s the way he’s looking at him. The way his eyes lock on Heath’s and stay there, no walls left at all.
“That’s if you’re still a client, of course,” Josh says.
Heath stops buttering toast. He looks at Josh right back.
“Is that an option? To cancel my account and still see you? I figured that was out of the question. Exclusivity and all that jazz.”
“So did I,” Josh says, then turns his gaze to me. “Until Ella found the balls to dig deeper, and get to the truth.”
I could cry happy tears as both men look at me. Not angry but happy. Really fucking happy.
I’ve done them proud. Just like I’ve done myself proud.
My flutters turn to electric shivers as the truth finally hits me with full force.
“You don’t have to be a client anymore. You could see us anyway,” I tell him. “I got told so, I swear. As long as The Agency remains confidential, and you never want to rejoin, you’re free to go, and we’re free to see you, whenever the hell we want.”
Heath drops his ass on a breakfast stool and shakes his head, the disbelief emanating from his magnificent body.
“Well, who’d have ever thought it,” he says. “The Agency have the strictest policies I’ve ever known. And I’d never have risked them, not for a moment. Not unless I knew it was safe.”
“It is safe,” Josh tells him. “Thanks to our sweet curva, we know it.”
“What a gift,” Heath says. “Thank you, Ella.”
I start in shock as he races through to the living room, reappearing with his phone in his hand. He’s like a sprinter going for the finish line, breathing deep when he braces at the kitchen island and angles the phone so we can both see the screen.
He calls up The Agency app, and goes into his settings in front of us.
“Goodbye, User 1543,” he says. “Here’s to a Merry Christmas and a very happy New Year.”
And just like that, with at least twenty clicks of confirmation, our client’s account is gone, and we are free.
“What happens now?” Heath asks. “Are we friends with benefits off the books? Casual? Are we… more?”
“We’re whatever you want us to be,” Josh says. “As long as you’re ok with Agency work. Ella and I are professional hookers, after all. You’re going to have to share the physical goods with other people.” He smiles. “But not the love. That’s between the three of us, and nobody else.”
Heath sits his ass back down.
“I have no problem with you two being entertainers, Josh. I make a career from playing out roles, slipping into character so deep it becomes reality, and then I snap back out of it again. Some of those roles involve intimacy. Some involve being in love. Some hate. Some anger. Some violence. But at the end of the day, I still come home as me. I’m still Heath when I’m done with filming.
” He smiles. “I’d imagine you’d say the same about your line of work as well. ”
Josh and I both nod, because Heath has hit the nail on the head right there.
When we are on proposals, we become the fantasies. We live them out as though they are our own. We do our best. We give our all. But then, at the end of the proposal we are just us again, loving each other.
And loving Heath Mason, too.
“I guess we’re called polyamorous now,” Heath says. “Is that an ok term for us?”
“Suits me just fine,” Josh replies. “I get to have a boyfriend as well as my sweet Ella.”
“And I get two have two boyfriends instead of one,” I giggle. “Wow, I’m spoiled.”
“Fuck breakfast,” Heath laughs, and gets out a fresh bottle of red from the wine cupboard. “We’ve got a whole other world that needs christening, especially a bed upstairs. Our first time as a threesome, for good.”
“Actually, it’s called a throuple,” Josh says.
“Alright smartass,” Heath says, “let’s go upstairs and get throupling!”
This time we christen Heath’s bed. Hard and furious but fuelled by absolute love.
He fucks my boyfriend’s ass as his own boyfriend now, and takes his boyfriend’s dick in return, and I get both boyfriends in one in the aftermath. A fresh stretch in the shower to consummate the pleasure, as well as the sting and the burn.
“Bedtime now, surely?” I say as they drop me back onto my feet in the shower tray. “My God, guys, we need to get some rest.”
“Not quite,” Heath tells me. “We’ve got a final toast to make.”
Ah, of course. The final toast is another kind of champagne. One of our specialities.
It’s golden, and warm, with no fizz like De Chante.
My favourite beverage of all.