“Yeah, I heard. Not that I’m surprised. We killed it last night.” His voice was tinged with laughter.
“And this morning,” I added in, joining in the fun.
“So, beautiful girl, you love us. We love you. We’re going to spend the rest of our days barefoot, naked, and relentlessly fucking six shades of Sunday out of each other. And...?” Rome prompted.
“And I want the world to know.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” He rocked his hips, and pushed his dick into me from the front, the same way King was doing from behind.
“Mmm hmm...” I was fast losing the power of speech. And of thought, for that matter.
“And what exactly did you have in mind?” I was pretty sure King didn’t genuinely want to know the answer to his question at that point. His mind was definitely occupied elsewhere.
“I—”
“Wait. Don’t answer that. We have business to take care of first.” Rome ravaged my mouth, and suddenly, I had no idea what I’d wanted to say, anyway...
Chapter 21
Quincy
Two months later.
“You read it. I can’t.” I flung the copy of the latest edition of New Music Times at Deone, and screwed my eyes shut as though if I didn’t, the words could somehow seep into my brain through the pages of the closed magazine.
“Why me? Why don’t you read it at home with the platinum-peened sex gods?” Her goofy grin nearly split her face in half.
“They do not have platinum-sheathed dicks.” I couldn’t contain my own smile, even though I wanted to appear firm. It was no use.
“They might as well have, if the way you float around the world like you’re on a permanent post-coital high is anything to go by. They clearly know what they’re doing.”
“Oh Dee, like you wouldn’t believe. And honestly, it gets better every day. We try new things, and learn new ways to get each other off. I have to admit, I didn’t know I could want sex as much as I do with those two. No matter how often we do it, it’s never too much. In fact, it’s never enough. It’s like they’ve turbo-charged my sex drive, and now my libido is out of control. I’m this borderline insatiable nympho.”
“Okay, okay, your gushing is bordering on TMI now, I get the idea. And what about the rest of it? I mean real life with those two outside of the sack. Surely it’s not all sex marathons and heart-eye emojis? Be honest, you fight over whose turn it is to load the dishwasher, and you hate finding two different sets of pubes on the soap, right? Plus two hard-headed guys to constantly leave the toilet seat up. What a pain in the ass.”
“Ugh. I don’t know what to tell ya. The truth is, we haven’t had a fight since we worked our shit out, and officially became a ‘we’, and as for all that domestic stuff, it’s also been surprisingly easy. Some might even call it ‘domestic bliss.’ For example, Maisie, the housekeeper, comes in daily these days, so that takes care of most of it, and there are two toilets in the master bathroom, I guess for this exact reason. They get to leave their seat up to their hearts’ content, and I never have to worry about sitting or standing in misdirected pee.”
“Well, whoever said money couldn’t buy happiness was obviously dirt poor, and clueless.”
“Maybe. But by the same token, we’d be happy if we had nothing except each other.”
Deone rolled her eyes, and made an exaggerated gagging noise. “Ugh. Jesus. Would you stop with the cookie-cutter loved up perfection? If you weren’t my best friend, I’d so cancel your ass right now. As it is, I love you too much, so you can stay.”
“Thank you, I love you too. And I’m seriously sorry about being so grossly happy. I’m sure it’s still the honeymoon phase, but while everything is working so well—the sex, the music, our home life—I’m making the most of it.”
“Okay, that makes sense. Anyway, that’s enough rubbing my excessively single nose in your uber loved-up, sex-god-scented shit for now. Do you want to know what this article says, or not?”
“Kind of. I mean, it seemed like a great idea at the time, but now, two months later, I’m too busy living my life and loving my men to even really care all that much about setting the record straight. But it’s out there now, so I guess I’d better find out, in case people ask.”
We had wine, and we had snacks. I was ready.
“Okay, here goes.”
“As I sit in the front room of the Manhattan triplex inhabited by acclaimed popular classical musicians Quincy “Que Violin” Copeland, Anthony “King” Kingston, and Roman “Rome” Ivanenko, who together make up the fairly recently formed outfit Thoroughly Plucked, I’m struck by a few things. Firstly, it’s a beautiful home—all neutral walls and furnishings, triple-height ceilings, and striking artwork and decorative features. Secondly, it’s nowhere near as stunningly beautiful as the three people sitting on the couch opposite me.
A mess of long and lithe limbs, they are crammed into a very small section of the oversized sofa, clearly wanting to be as close as humanly possible, within the realms of what is acceptable in company.
Copeland, sandwiched between the two infeasibly gorgeous men, is nothing short of stunning. She appears to be wearing little or no makeup, and is simply dressed in a plain white tee and cutoff denim shorts, yet her natural beauty lights the room. I do, however, also get the impression that her ethereal glow is due, at least in part, to the men flanking her.
Unusually, Copeland had been the one to reach out to me for an interview, so I direct most of my questions to her.
Me: Tell me a little about why you requested this interview.
QC: Well, as I’m sure you know, a ‘video,’ though some might call it a sex tape, featuring me has been circulating, and has raised quite a few eyebrows and caused endless speculation and rumor. I really just want to put the whole thing to bed—no pun intended—so that I can go back to doing what I do best, making sweet… music, with these two.”
She reaches her hands out sideways, and without even looking each man instinctively grabs one.
Me: For those who are unaware, tell me a little more about the video.
QC: Well, obviously I don’t wish to rehash the specifics, but suffice to say that alongside me, the illegally obtained footage features King and Rome in what has been repeatedly referred to as a compromising position. I have to admit that I agreed with that assessment initially, but now, I couldn’t disagree more.
Me: What do you mean?
QC: I mean that the person who shot that video and circulated it broke a number of laws—the implications of which are being dealt with through the appropriate legal channels—and in doing so, majorly breached our privacy. More than that, this person, who allegedly recorded and ‘leaked’ the video as an act of vengeance against her now ex employer, also served to shame me, especially, for something that, on reflection, I have no business feeling ashamed about.
Me: What’s that?
QC: I fell in love with two men at once. I’m in love with them. Both of them. Not only that, but they are best friends, and we are musical colleagues—bandmates, in fact. It sounds like it should be messy, but it’s not. In fact it’s the furthest thing from it. It’s beautiful, and I won’t apologize for that. Not anymore. We’re in love, we have sex, all three of us, often, and it’s nobody’s business but our own.”