Double Dealing: A Menage Romance(41)

I closed my mouth and looked out worriedly at the French countryside that rolled by. Two hours later, I still worried but was distracted as I looked at the beautiful hills and valley surrounding Valence. Near the center of the Rhone Valley portion of France, it was the dividing line between the northern and southern Rhone and looked like a postcard. It actually looked like you should’ve been shooting a romantic comedy in the streets and among the hills of the town. Francois saw the look in my eyes and smiled. "Welcome to one of your new homes."

I gulped and looked around again, amazed. "This is yours?”

"Well, not the whole city, of course, just a house in the southern outskirts," Francois replied.

I was speechless for the rest of the drive, Felix turning down a dirt road and trundling along for a quarter mile before pulling up in front of an old-fashioned looking farmhouse. "Here we are."

Getting out, I felt like I was in a sort of dreaming wakefulness, the whole experience leaving me stunned like I'd just been smacked in the head by a pillow. I stood in the sunny front yard, staring at the two-story house, a silly grin on my face. "I feel like I've stepped into a fairy tale. Or the French version of The Wizard of Oz. Tell me there’s a barn in the back somewhere."

"There is, but we use it for something else,” Felix said. “You’ll see it later. Come, let’s introduce you to our mothers."

For all of the old-fashioned exterior, the inside of the house was beautifully done, in a rustic style that balanced modern convenience with a simple countryside charm. For a girl who'd spent most of the past eight years in Los Angeles, it was quite different, and wonderfully warming. I could definitely see myself wiling away the days and weeks in this sort of house, surrounded by these two men and the beautiful countryside. Felix led the way to the back of the house, opening the door. "Mama!"

The two women who turned at Felix's voice were stunning, plain and simple. Much shorter than their sons, each of them about five foot five or so. Their thick, wavy black hair hung all the way to their waists, framing faces that showed hints of their sons. They were dressed elegantly, with long flowing wool skirts and cashmere tops that showed both of them kept themselves in great shape.

Both ignored me however, greeting their sons with excited hugs and loud kisses on their cheeks. They shifted from French to another language, which I could only assume was Romani, leaving me totally in the dark as to what was being said. From the facial expressions and tone of voice, it didn’t sound bad.

One of the women turned her eyes to me. I found her scrutiny unsettling, and I had to resist the urge to squirm under her gaze. "Donc ceci est le voleur qui a volé le c?ur de mon fils," she said, then smiled and in accented but clear English. "Welcome. I’m Syeira."

When she smiled, all the tension in her eyes evaporated, and I could see the similarities between her and her son. "Thank you. I must say that you both are stunning.”

They both laughed and one came over, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You’ll do well here," she said, patting my just-kissed cheek. "I am Charani, Francois’s mother."

I tried my best to discern any difference between the two women, but it was impossible. They were truly identical twins, with the only difference I could tell between them being the color of the blouses they were wearing underneath their open fronted cashmere tops. "Thank you both," I said in my best attempt at French. "It’s nice to meet you."

"It seems we must try our best with good English, and you must try your best with good French," Charani said softly, before giving her son a hug with one arm. "Come, it’s time for celebration."

I was grateful that they’d prepared some light fare. I’d more than feasted since living with Francois and Felix, and barely managed to maintain my weight even with the sex and exercise I’d been getting. Conversation flowed nice, and I began to feel a little more at ease.

Felix had told them about how we’d met, using French and Romani interchangeably while Francois kept me abreast of the conversation with whispered bits of English.

"They may have taken me captive, but they’ve certainly stolen me away from a life of drudgery and boredom," I added. I’d come to the conclusion quickly in Mexico, and knew that even if I was given the opportunity to go back to Los Angeles, I wouldn't. "The past two months have been the best in my life."

After the light meal, Francois took my hand. “It’s time to show you around," he reminded me. "Mother, Aunt, if you'll excuse us. Felix, you mind?“

Felix waved with good humor, and Francois led me outside. While the weather was milder than Paris, it was still winter, and the orange glow of the sunset in the sky lent enough warmth that I was comfortable. Francois led me to the barn, pausing at the large double doors. "My brother told you earlier that this is not a normal barn. Take a look inside."

It took me a while to understand what the collection of ropes, beams, and other things in the dimly lit cavernous barn was until I spied something hanging from a beam. "Are those gymnastic rings?"

Francois nodded. "Welcome to the place where our father taught my brother and I every physical skill needed to become who we are. This place was our training hall, our sparring center, and as much our classroom as the schools we went to. It’s also one of the few places that I’d routinely best Felix."