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We were in our hotel room, having taken up residence at the nearest Starwood. “What the fuck is wrong with us?” I raged again, practically spitting I was so incensed.
“Cool it bro,” rumbled Karl. “We need a plan.”
But I shook my head.
“She’s pregnant,” I roared. “What plan? What the fuck? This is so unfucking-believable.”
Of course, I didn’t mean that the pregnancy was unbelievable, that was totally to be expected, our little girl swelling with our seed. Tina was a sweet, fertile, nineteen-year-old after all, who’d been fucked by three men night and day, it was only a matter of time. But everything else that had happened this afternoon … it was like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless and gasping for air.
“We’ve got to get her out of here. Back to St. Venetia, fuck back to Kansas if that’s what it takes,” I said grimly, balling my fists in rage. “We’ll go back to the farm, strap her down to a bed if she tries to leave.”
And the thought made my cock spring out, the image of our beautiful Tina nude and tied up, ready for us. And shit, fucking her while she was pregnant, that big, naked belly filled with our babies? It made me cream even harder, my tip getting wet, dripping at the thought of her fertile form ready and willing. I wanted her even more, even harder, ever so desperately.
But Kristian was calm, or at least seemingly so.
“She’s got a point,” he began. “We were assholes, to put it lightly. The three of us left St. Venetia in what? A week after the events at the palace? We left her on her own with no forwarding address, no contact info, just some promises that we’d be back someday, no telling when. No wonder she’s pissed as hell.”
“But she’s pregnant,” I raged. “We’re the fathers, what the fuck, is she going to have those babies on her own?”
A pause again.
“Evidently so,” replied Kristian slowly. “Evidently so.”
And that just confounded us all the more. Because seeing the little girl, how transformed she was, was astonishing. And amazing. And utterly wonderful. No more did we have a sweet thing completely dependent on us. Instead, the brunette was standing on her own two feet, making decisions, the hotshot head of a budding non-profit, all in a foreign land no less and heavily pregnant to boot. We were proud as hell, proud that she’d become a woman in her own right, with her own means, her own way of seeing the world, the prism clear and focused, able to make a difference and affect others.
But still … having two kids on her own? Without us? Hell no, there was no way that was going down, in any way shape or form, in whichever universe we lived in. No way were we not going to be a part of our kids’ lives, especially given our twisted family history. So yeah, the question was getting back into her good graces.
“We’ve got to get her into bed,” ground out Karl. “Only then will she listen to us, if her pussy’s creaming, that little twat stroked and touched, filled with cock, she’ll come home with us.”
But I wasn’t so sure.
“Dude, she’s not letting us touch her, are you fucking kidding me?” I asked, disbelieving. “Weren’t you there? Weren’t you listening? She hates our guts.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say hate,” mused Kristian contemplatively. “That’s a strong word, but yeah, I’d say something more like ‘dislikes intensely.’”
I snorted.
“Whatever, dislikes, hates, detests, repulsed by, we’re toast, man,” I said disgustedly. “We came here to propose, and instead she’s turned her back, wants nothing to do with us.”
Because yeah, we came to Cambodia with a ring in our pocket. Or three rings is more like it. Instead of a diamond solitaire, we invested in a tri-color ring, a ring with three bands of silver, rose gold, and yellow gold twisted together, locking to form a beautiful medley, pulling apart so that they form three circles, touching but still interconnected. It represents us, our foursome, Tina’s finger the center around which we orbit. She’s everything to us, and yeah, we want to get married, make it permanent.
But that seemed impossible now, given our last encounter.
So we were silent, trying to think up ways to win our best girl back. Fuck! This was so fucked up, I shook my head in rage. And recent events were all the more ridiculous given the woman she’d become because Tina had matured … and was even more perfect for us now. Perfect to handle three men, three separate male egos, three differing personalities, three careers, and a fourth career, her own. And the maturity was even more valuable now because her workload was about to double with the new babies, the new responsibilities that came with being a mother.
So we wanted the brunette so badly that it literally hurt, wanted Tina in our lives and by our sides. Where else would we find her sweet intelligence, depth of knowledge and understanding, coupled with a sensuality so heady, so exciting, that it was enough to handle three men, milk the sperm from all of us while bringing us to undiscovered heights? And yet the brunette had dismissed us with a flick of the wrist … and we weren’t sure if there was a way back.
TINA
“There you go,” I said, handing the cash to Annelise. “It’s capital for your business, use it like we discussed,” I said encouragingly.
The small woman smiled, so thin that I was surprised when I’d found out that she was a farmer. Annelise had stopped by my office two months ago explaining that her family planted rice, and needed a loan after a crop failed last season.
“Thank you, Miss Tina. It’s going to make a huge difference,” she said gratefully. “Last year, my husband managed the planting, but this time I’m in charge. Your investment is going to make all the difference.”
“Good,” I said with a smile. “Take the reins from your husband because you’re the boss now.” After all, the truth is that a lot of men in Cambodia don’t have great heads for making money. Khmer Outreach, like its famous forbear Grameen Bank of Bangladesh, has discovered that women entrepreneurs are a much better bet than male ones. The women are enterprising, hard-working, with a 99% payback rate. Male entrepreneurs, on the other hand, seem lazy, shiftless, and only too happy to let their wives do the work. So K.O.C. focuses on women-led enterprises, an otherwise underrepresented minority in this land of fifteen million.
Annelise turned to go, but then hesitated, looking over her shoulder at me curiously.
