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Read Online Brown, Berengaria - Shared Possession [Possessive Passions 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Berengaria Brown - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Berengaria Brown
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peas. Have you a favorite vegetable you would like us to grow?”
“Hmm. Red, yellow, and green. They are good, strong colors, flavorful vegetables. Red, yellow, and green peppers would be appropriate.”
“And chilies. Red, yellow, and green chilies,” added Grandfather Lim.
“Very good. There is one remaining side to this garden. Chevaunne, what would you like?”
“I had been thinking carrots, but that would quite spoil your color scheme. Cabbage, perhaps, or lettuce? Or red onions, although they are more purple in color really.”
Goa came over and joined them, and Chevaunne relaxed and listened while the four had a lively conversation about vegetables before finally deciding to plant radishes and squash on the fourth side of the box.
She was so happy here. The community was so much more loving and caring than the outside world. Everyone knew everyone else, but that was not the reason because in many small towns that would be the case, yet so often they, too, were filled with competitiveness and bitterness.
No, it had to be that these people had chosen to tread a different path. Their lifestyle was different because that was what they wanted. They followed the traditional ways instead of foregoing their traditions. They had adapted modern technology and modern methods of earning a living, yet they used those things within the framework of their traditional sexual practices.
And oh how she enjoyed their sexual practices! Having three men at once was more stimulating than she could ever have imagined it would be. But, more than that, she respected and appreciated them as individuals within the relationship.
She looked up as Shiloah, and her mother Orna came out into the courtyard. Shiloah smiled and walked across to her. “We’re going to plant a small rose garden over here,” she said, waving to one section of the garden. “There’ll be varieties with a very strong scent as many old people find their sense of smells dulls with age, and we want to be sure they can enjoy them.”
“What a good idea. Will you show my brother and me your rose garden, please, Shiloah? We both miss the land very much. Our family has farmed for many generations, but we found we couldn’t like the politics of our homeland anymore, so we came here to where the old ways prevail.”
“Of course, Stan. Mom and I work there for several hours each day, tending the plants, and then we work in our still room making the soaps and ointments and fragrances.”
“It’s a lot of work for two women. Yet you have no fathers or brothers to help you?”
“My husbands were falsely jailed for crimes they didn’t commit because people disapproved of our polyandrous lifestyle. Shiloah was just a baby then. By the time they were released from jail, they were broken men, so we came here. They had been deliberately infected with AIDS in jail by bigoted people. The doctors here cared for them until they rejoined their ancestors, and Shiloah and I began growing roses as a tribute to her fathers. Once we started making fragrances, we discovered we could earn credits doing something we loved.”
The conversation turned back to the choice of plants for the seniors’ garden, and Chevaunne mulled over Orna’s story. So much hatred and bigotry in the outside world. Shiloah’s fathers had harmed no one, yet the way they had been treated by outsiders had effectively been torture which had resulted in them dying in a horrible, painful way. Stan and Goa had come here to escape persecution, too. Yet here all four of them were, working together to make a beautiful garden for the old people to enjoy, offering peace and beauty instead of bitterness and malice.
She loved this place and these people. She never wanted to leave.
* * * *
Chevaunne had banned Sam from the kitchen tonight, wanting to make a favorite recipe of hers for them all. Laughing and protesting, he’d obeyed her, but she’d seen him stick his head around the doorway to watch her
“Hmm. Red, yellow, and green. They are good, strong colors, flavorful vegetables. Red, yellow, and green peppers would be appropriate.”
“And chilies. Red, yellow, and green chilies,” added Grandfather Lim.
“Very good. There is one remaining side to this garden. Chevaunne, what would you like?”
“I had been thinking carrots, but that would quite spoil your color scheme. Cabbage, perhaps, or lettuce? Or red onions, although they are more purple in color really.”
Goa came over and joined them, and Chevaunne relaxed and listened while the four had a lively conversation about vegetables before finally deciding to plant radishes and squash on the fourth side of the box.
She was so happy here. The community was so much more loving and caring than the outside world. Everyone knew everyone else, but that was not the reason because in many small towns that would be the case, yet so often they, too, were filled with competitiveness and bitterness.
No, it had to be that these people had chosen to tread a different path. Their lifestyle was different because that was what they wanted. They followed the traditional ways instead of foregoing their traditions. They had adapted modern technology and modern methods of earning a living, yet they used those things within the framework of their traditional sexual practices.
And oh how she enjoyed their sexual practices! Having three men at once was more stimulating than she could ever have imagined it would be. But, more than that, she respected and appreciated them as individuals within the relationship.
She looked up as Shiloah, and her mother Orna came out into the courtyard. Shiloah smiled and walked across to her. “We’re going to plant a small rose garden over here,” she said, waving to one section of the garden. “There’ll be varieties with a very strong scent as many old people find their sense of smells dulls with age, and we want to be sure they can enjoy them.”
“What a good idea. Will you show my brother and me your rose garden, please, Shiloah? We both miss the land very much. Our family has farmed for many generations, but we found we couldn’t like the politics of our homeland anymore, so we came here to where the old ways prevail.”
“Of course, Stan. Mom and I work there for several hours each day, tending the plants, and then we work in our still room making the soaps and ointments and fragrances.”
“It’s a lot of work for two women. Yet you have no fathers or brothers to help you?”
“My husbands were falsely jailed for crimes they didn’t commit because people disapproved of our polyandrous lifestyle. Shiloah was just a baby then. By the time they were released from jail, they were broken men, so we came here. They had been deliberately infected with AIDS in jail by bigoted people. The doctors here cared for them until they rejoined their ancestors, and Shiloah and I began growing roses as a tribute to her fathers. Once we started making fragrances, we discovered we could earn credits doing something we loved.”
The conversation turned back to the choice of plants for the seniors’ garden, and Chevaunne mulled over Orna’s story. So much hatred and bigotry in the outside world. Shiloah’s fathers had harmed no one, yet the way they had been treated by outsiders had effectively been torture which had resulted in them dying in a horrible, painful way. Stan and Goa had come here to escape persecution, too. Yet here all four of them were, working together to make a beautiful garden for the old people to enjoy, offering peace and beauty instead of bitterness and malice.
She loved this place and these people. She never wanted to leave.
* * * *
Chevaunne had banned Sam from the kitchen tonight, wanting to make a favorite recipe of hers for them all. Laughing and protesting, he’d obeyed her, but she’d seen him stick his head around the doorway to watch her
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