ROMANCE: Party of Three: A Lustful Collection of Menage Romance (Menage Romance, Bisexual Romance, Stepbrother Romance) by Brittanee Farrow Page A
Authors: Brittanee Farrow
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and straight. Since posture is taxing, it can be seen as work, for men at least. Women who stick out their chests are vulgar.
My observations are interrupted by a young man who gallops into the town, his clothes stained and generally disheveled from his vigorous ride. As he dismounts, his eyes survey the periphery, briefly finding mine before they continue on. I’m instantly captivated, wondering who he is, where he comes from, and why he’s in Salem, but my mother takes an arm and pulls me along, gently.
Back at our home, we sit down to a simple meal of salt pork and bread. One of mother’s clients stops by, and brings news of the arrival along with some torn clothes.
“His name is Aaron Pryor. Both his mother and father have passed on, so he comes to find fellowship in Salem. He is a fisherman.”
I picture his dark hair and agile frame drawing in fish. He dismounted from his horse more gracefully than I’ve ever seen, and though he is slim, there is power in his stride. My mind wavers between Aaron and Zachary, until I’m drawn into the conversation.
“Eden, we have some mending to do. Best start before the light is gone for the day.”
“Yes, mother. Thank you for calling, Mrs. Rowe.”
The afternoon is spent in mind-numbing quiet, doing whatever mending or sewing we’ve been hired for, then seeing to our own clothes. While we work, Rashi, our maid, cleans the dishes, sweeps the house, freshens the mattresses with clean hay, and then leaves to complete some errands.
It’s nearly dark, but Rashi is not back, and I wonder where she has strayed to, so I ask mother if I can quickly search for her.
“You must be back before dark,” mother insists. I am cloaked and given a lantern, just in case, and I then set out to find Rashi. The public places are deserted, and I walk through town, peering in the open windows just to check, but I do not see her dark face. It stands out against the pale white most women bitterly fight to keep, and the soft tan the farmers have.
I’m on the edge of town when I realize Aaron is watching me from the porch of the boarding house. His eyes are dark and intense, staring as though they could see through my petticoat, and I blush. He smiles, seeing my reaction, and walks back into the boarding house. I’m not sure why, but I stand there until I see a light come on, three windows back on the side of the building. His hands part the curtain, and find me still watching. Part of me wants to walk up to that window and climb in, but I remember Rashi and turn to search the woods, keeping close to town.
As I circle around the woods surrounding town, it’s not long before I smell smoke. In a clearing, I come upon a fire. Rashi is stripped to the waist, circling the fire wildly, leaping and chanting as though she is possessed. I am spell-bound, watching her with an interest never before felt. Everything is so vivid, from her gleaming brown skin to the red streaks across her breasts, the ecstatic movements of her body to the strange words she utters. My feet are rooted though my eyes panic, trying to capture every motion, every detail.
Her hands fly out, flinging items into the fire, then powders, and the embers change color. A voice that seems to come from nowhere utters a warning: “You are not alone.” For the first time Rashi looks around, seeing me amongst the trees and bushes.
“I guess you’ll be wantin’ to report this,” she asks, her chest heaving, eyes holding mine.
“No. I want your help.”
Rashi pauses for a second, then nods. I have been living with a real, live witch.
Dreams and Nightmares
Her dark hands close around my wrists, drawing me closer. The fire still dances, crackling and spitting.
“What power do you seek, child?” She searches
My observations are interrupted by a young man who gallops into the town, his clothes stained and generally disheveled from his vigorous ride. As he dismounts, his eyes survey the periphery, briefly finding mine before they continue on. I’m instantly captivated, wondering who he is, where he comes from, and why he’s in Salem, but my mother takes an arm and pulls me along, gently.
Back at our home, we sit down to a simple meal of salt pork and bread. One of mother’s clients stops by, and brings news of the arrival along with some torn clothes.
“His name is Aaron Pryor. Both his mother and father have passed on, so he comes to find fellowship in Salem. He is a fisherman.”
I picture his dark hair and agile frame drawing in fish. He dismounted from his horse more gracefully than I’ve ever seen, and though he is slim, there is power in his stride. My mind wavers between Aaron and Zachary, until I’m drawn into the conversation.
“Eden, we have some mending to do. Best start before the light is gone for the day.”
“Yes, mother. Thank you for calling, Mrs. Rowe.”
The afternoon is spent in mind-numbing quiet, doing whatever mending or sewing we’ve been hired for, then seeing to our own clothes. While we work, Rashi, our maid, cleans the dishes, sweeps the house, freshens the mattresses with clean hay, and then leaves to complete some errands.
It’s nearly dark, but Rashi is not back, and I wonder where she has strayed to, so I ask mother if I can quickly search for her.
“You must be back before dark,” mother insists. I am cloaked and given a lantern, just in case, and I then set out to find Rashi. The public places are deserted, and I walk through town, peering in the open windows just to check, but I do not see her dark face. It stands out against the pale white most women bitterly fight to keep, and the soft tan the farmers have.
I’m on the edge of town when I realize Aaron is watching me from the porch of the boarding house. His eyes are dark and intense, staring as though they could see through my petticoat, and I blush. He smiles, seeing my reaction, and walks back into the boarding house. I’m not sure why, but I stand there until I see a light come on, three windows back on the side of the building. His hands part the curtain, and find me still watching. Part of me wants to walk up to that window and climb in, but I remember Rashi and turn to search the woods, keeping close to town.
As I circle around the woods surrounding town, it’s not long before I smell smoke. In a clearing, I come upon a fire. Rashi is stripped to the waist, circling the fire wildly, leaping and chanting as though she is possessed. I am spell-bound, watching her with an interest never before felt. Everything is so vivid, from her gleaming brown skin to the red streaks across her breasts, the ecstatic movements of her body to the strange words she utters. My feet are rooted though my eyes panic, trying to capture every motion, every detail.
Her hands fly out, flinging items into the fire, then powders, and the embers change color. A voice that seems to come from nowhere utters a warning: “You are not alone.” For the first time Rashi looks around, seeing me amongst the trees and bushes.
“I guess you’ll be wantin’ to report this,” she asks, her chest heaving, eyes holding mine.
“No. I want your help.”
Rashi pauses for a second, then nods. I have been living with a real, live witch.
Dreams and Nightmares
Her dark hands close around my wrists, drawing me closer. The fire still dances, crackling and spitting.
“What power do you seek, child?” She searches
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