Chapter Two #2
There wasn't much that I would have said Fiona Hall and Colin Holloway had in common.
Fiona was a hell of a lot kinder, for one thing—not to mention more attractive.
But both of them clearly had an eye for good content.
The second the D-word escaped my babygirl's lips, Fiona lit up like a fucking firework.
“Okay, yes, please tell me about your Daddy,” Fiona grinned. “I think we're all wondering how this guy managed to surround himself with women as hot as you three. How did you even meet him?” Fiona spread her hands. “Was he already with the other two when you met him?”
Samantha was already shaking her head. The corner of her mouth curled in a knowing smirk, and suddenly I felt like I knew what she was going to say before she said it. Here we go, I thought.
The night I met Samantha Lowry, I made the rashest decision of my entire life. The fact that it had turned out to be the best decision of my life didn't make it any less crazy.
“He showed up at a Delta Rho party during rush week,” Samantha said, folding her hands in her lap.
“There was a problem with a couple of the guests—” she made air quotes with her fingers, “—and Daddy sorted them out.
By the time I made it upstairs, he'd already dealt with it.” Her eyes took on a faraway tint.
“You know what? It's funny. All three of us were in that room: me, Yukiko, and Marcie. That very first night. And none of us had any idea what was about to happen.”
“What did happen?” Fiona asked, leaning closer. “Come on girl, dish!”
Samantha's smile turned wicked.
“About ten minutes later, I was on my knees with his dick in my mouth,” she said.
Good lord.
The sound tech's head shot up. I swore I could hear crew members gasping from the wings.
“Ten minutes?” Fiona gasped.
“Around that long,” Samantha said. “You ever see a guy and just know, Fiona? Like 'oh yeah, that's him. He's the one.'“
“I've seen some pretty hot men,” Fiona admitted. “I mean, 'he's the one for tonight’, sure...”
Samantha chuckled. “That's definitely how it started, but not how it ended. The first time I called him Daddy, it just felt right. It wasn't weird. It was like I'd just been waiting for permission my entire life.”
“Okay,” Fiona said, trying to get a grip on herself. “You meet this hot older guy, and ten minutes later you're banging. What was the pitch? What did he say to you?”
Samantha snorted. “Nothing.”
I'd wager this was maybe the only time this crew had ever seen their boss at a loss for words. Fiona looked like a fish that had been hauled up on dry land.
At the same time, I could see delight dancing in her eyes. She'd wanted juicy and raunchy. My babygirl was delivering a bumper crop.
“You have to understand,” Samantha said, holding up a hand.
“Your listeners will get this. I was that bitch, you understand?
President of the chapter. Every frat boy on campus would've run a marathon for a chance to get into my panties.” She paused, licking her lips.
“And Jack wasn't like that at all. He just... he just was. And fuck, he was everything.”
Fiona looked less interested in the romantic bits. “So you're in this bathroom with him, going to town. Does Kiki hear this? Marcie?”
“They were already gone,” Samantha said with a laugh. “And this—okay, this is the moment when I knew I was in trouble.”
Fiona sat up straighter. “Spill it!”
“Okay, so I'm in this frat house bathroom,” Samantha said, chuckling at the memory.
“I'm down to my bra and panties and nobody, nobody in my entire life up until this point has ever looked at Samantha fucking Lowry in lingerie and done anything other than turn into a quivering pile of goo.
And I get up on the counter and tell this guy—this Daddy I'd just met—to fuck me. And you know what he said?”
“I'm gonna guess it was some Fifty Shades shit,” Fiona said with a grin.
Samantha shook her head. “He said no.”
The gasp that came out of the host sounded like she'd been punched in the gut.
For a moment she discarded the fiction that the two them were alone in the room and cast a shocked look in my direction, like she wanted to drag me on camera and make me explain myself.
Fortunately, Samantha had already picked up the thread.
“He said not here, not like this,” Samantha whispered. “He said a girl like me deserved better than that. He put me in his car—which, by the way, first time you see that thing is such a holy shit moment—”
“He does have a nice car,” Fiona murmured. “I saw it in the parking lot earlier.”
“—and drove me out to his condo. Ninth or tenth floor, something like that. Gorgeous place, gorgeous view of the city... gorgeous man.”
“And?”
Samantha bit her bottom lip like she was pretending to be shy.
“And then we went into the bedroom. And then, after that, we went out on the balcony.
And I had never, ever experienced anything like it.
I wasn't a sorority girl to him. I wasn't the queen of Stillwell. I was his babygirl, and he freaking treated me like it.”
Fiona whistled through her teeth. “Hot damn.”
“I knew that first night,” Samantha said, glancing over at me. “Okay, I didn't know I was going to get married, or that Kiki and Marcie were going to be involved. I'm not psychic.” She leaned back in her seat. “But I was like, 'this guy's gonna be with me for the rest of my life'. And he is.”
Fiona sat back on the couch, shaking her head in wonder.
“Honestly, I think I'm a little in love with him just hearing you talk about it,” she chuckled. “How am I supposed to keep my journalistic integrity when you keep saying shit like that?”
Journalistic integrity, I thought with a snort.
But the longer the interview went on, the more I realized Fiona Hall had more of that than you might expect.
She had a pattern, I was starting to realize—she'd tease some kind of filthy, raunchy anecdote out of her interview subject, let her run with it for about ninety seconds (getting the juicy quote, I thought), then she'd pull back and ask something soft.
The overall effect was to make my babygirl seem like a total slut and a fluffy little marshmallow at the same time. Honestly, it was a pretty good look on her.
“Okay. The wives.” Fiona was rolling with the interview now, really getting into this in a way I sensed she didn't with most of her guests.
“I watched Yukiko on Morning Harbor and she was so good, but she didn't get into this at all and it's what I really want to know. What I think everybody wants to know.”
“Go for it,” Samantha giggled. I don't think any of Fiona's possible questions had gotten more prep work than this one.
Fiona's grin told me she'd been looking forward to this. “Are there, like, lanes? Is this, like, a silo-type situation?”
Samantha tilted her head. “What do you mean, lanes?”
“I mean, like—” Fiona sketched three separate lines in the air with the edge of her hand. “Wife one gets him on Tuesday. Wife Two gets him on Wednesday. Everybody stays in their own little zone and sticks to the schedule. You know, the whole Utah way of doing things—”
Samantha started to laugh.
“Noooo,” she giggled, perfectly aware of how this was going to come across. “God, no! I mean, there is a spreadsheet, but only because Kiki is freaking obsessed with them. She's, like, crazy organized.”
“So that means...?”
“There's no lanes,” my babygirl confirmed. “We each have our own little space in the house, but we all sleep in the master bedroom. We are all, extremely...” she waved a hand, clearly aware of the effect she was having on Fiona, “into each other. All the wives.”
“All three,” Fiona said.
Samantha nodded.
“Define into each other.”
My babygirl cackled at the opportunity. “Marcie and I were—” and she trailed off, evidently deciding not to go down that particular path, “—very close, especially after she pledged Delta Rho. And Kiki... I mean, Kiki's a very special case. Very special girl.”
“Special how?”
“Well... I'm bi,” Samantha said with a shrug. “Always have been. And Marcie's been figuring things out about herself since she joined us. But Kiki is something else entirely.”
“Oh?”
“She calls it Jack-sexual,” Samantha said, already starting to laugh.
Fiona's jaw dropped. Then, looking right at the camera, she did a little golf clap at the cleverness.
“I'm serious,” Samantha giggled. “This is a thing we've talked about. Yes, Yukiko likes being with us. And she's always very game to share her bed with her man and some new, exciting girl. But what really gets her motor running is Jackson Avery.”
“That's...”
“If he developed a fetish for beer, she'd buy a brewery,” Samantha said.
“If he woke up and decided tomorrow that industrial carpeting was what got his dick hard, she'd have a half-dozen suppliers lined up by the end of the weekend.” She grinned.
“Our husband is the center of her sexual universe.
She is so into Jack that whatever gets him off is automatically the hottest thing she's ever heard of. She likes it because he likes it.”
Fiona was speechless.
“She comes off as so poised and articulate,” Samantha said, gesturing.
“So controlled. And the truth is, Fiona—and I can say this because I love that woman almost as much as I love life itself—Kiki is the craziest fucking bitch I have ever met.
Marcie, me, the other girls in the harem—we love Jack.
Kiki reveres him. I'm shocked she doesn't have a shrine to him hidden in her closet.”
The room was silent for a long moment.
“That,” Fiona finally said, “might be the most unhinged thing anyone on that couch has said this year.”
“As your biggest fan, I'm taking that as a compliment,” Samantha chuckled. “Yukiko is the reason I'm here today, by the way.”
Fiona perked up.
“She's the one who made this whole thing run in the first place. Who pitched the idea of us sharing Jack instead of killing each other over him, which—best plan ever, boo. Highest honors.”