A Problem with Four Wives.

It was not the best of times; in fact, it was the worst. I espied three of my wives sitting together in the window of a café that I sometimes drop in for a double shot latte. I was on the verge of achieving a set-up that I thought would carry me through to the end, or at least until my old ‘John Thomas’ wouldn’t respond to a beckoning smile.  

They were not squabbling like I would have thought would have happened in this situation if I had worked it out logically. What’s more, they were laughing. Yes, genuinely laughing. Not the type of laugh that one could envisage with a colluding trio discussing how my bowels could be extracted and roasted over hot coals whilst still attached to my nether region. I didn’t know they even knew each other, even on a casual basis. Then it dawned upon me, my Tesla. I should say, our Tesla's. 

Could it be that I had been undone by my great interest in electric cars, particularly, Tesla electric cars? Apparently, my fourth wife was not with this eviscerating conclave, if indeed that’s what it was.

Maybe it was my guilt that was starting to throw up incommodious portents of my future? However, and I realised I was into ‘straw-clutching’ mode now, maybe they were oblivious to the close nature they were to each other and joined by their own interest in electric vehicles. After all, these three, and also Julie May were wild about Teslas. If Julie May turns up as well, then the odds that this meeting is all about electrics is less likely than discussing how big an electric probe could be and still get up my arse.

The clutched straw evaporated when I heard a scream of delight from my position across the road where I was hiding, which could only come from my beloved Julie May. I knew I was undone.

Coincidence? Bullshit! I might as well look for a tall building. Fortunately, the one I was hiding my butt in was tall enough. Perhaps when they saw my flattened carcass, it would soften the vitriol that would be uttered from the pulpit as they helped the machinery push my coffin into the flames seeking to balance my guilt in their eyes.

But no, when I looked up to the top of the building my knees shook so much that they wouldn’t even take me to the express elevator to deposit me to the top of this mighty building. I instead, by means of clutching hold of a variety of protuberances made it over to the bar. After a few gulped down shots of wonderful life-saving nectar, a form of survival mechanism surfaced with a solution, I could run. 

An hour later and in a warm rosy glow, I knew the situation was not serious. They would forgive me. They knew I was a passionate man who did nothing halfway. They would understand. The only problem facing me at present was, which one did I go home to tonight. But before I needed to decide that, I would bask here enjoying the small talk of the bartender trying to think of a reason not to visit his mother-in-law with his wife. 

Where, or who to go to that night was decided by my wonderful electric car. It was warm and inviting inside. Just sitting in it in the covered car park I had fallen asleep almost as soon as the door closed on me.

I was awakened some hours later by a non-electric, seemingly unmuffled piercing note of a large gas-guzzling monstrosity going past my silent eco-preserving blessing to mankind. It was nine o/clock and I was semi-sober when the full import of what had transpired the previous day hit me with full force. I felt like sobbing, but that wouldn’t be manly, also someone may see me, especially if she was young and exceedingly beautiful. I wouldn’t get to first base with this display.

Then I started to think that many women are attracted to vulnerability, in particular, handsome robust males. For a minute or two I ruminate upon this then chastised myself for thinking along lines that led to my current situation. I resolved to do better. 

How could I find out what’s up? In fact, was anything up? I won’t volunteer anything, I’ll ring Kate, she’s the least suspicious person I knew. Although that may have changed since yesterday. But Rachel was the most forgiving, I think it went with her Jewish heritage; self-guilt. She’d think it must have been her fault that I had enough left over to satisfy three other women. However, once she’d talked it over with herself and reconciled the deep-seated contradictions, her wrath would be biblical. No, running appeared the best option.

Then I cursed my magnanimity, I had generously insisted that we shared everything. I can see now; my guilt went into overdrive to assuage its effect upon me. I was part owner in four houses - I was a good provider. I didn’t have any solely and personally owned bank accounts, I was an open book in this area, stupid, but open. 

I was racking my brains and looking at the same time on the net to buy some very good running shoes, preferably ones with spikes in the soles to enable me to get up to my best speed at the first note of a “Aha, there you are,” when an interim measure occurred to me. My head-shaking and forgiving friend, Dave could suss out the ‘lay of the land’ for me. He is a model of decorum and rectitude in his personal life and devoted to his ONE wife and tribe of kids.

Why he is my friend has always been a mystery to me, but he is also a devotee of electric cars and very much a ‘Greenie.’ As you may have gathered, I’m a very plausible character. I have been known to talk my way out of technical infringements of the obvious faulty alcohol testing equipment that our underfunded and diligent traffic officers are required to use. They have sent me on my way with their blessings and thankful that I will be pleading to mitigate the impecunious attitudes imposed upon them by their masters. But Dave had to be marshalled into the possible fray, or at least to see if a hurricane is going to blow around my family jewels. 

As I said, my model of decorum and other good things, Dave, shocked me when he heard of my plight, he rolled on the ground in delight and good humour almost suffering a heart attack with the effusiveness of his merriment. It was fully five minutes before he could quell his mirth at my predicament, and I confess, my own good nature had started to surface.

 I finally couldn’t stop myself from joining in with a lop-sided grin acknowledging that indeed from a viewpoint not my own, it could be seen as giving great pleasure to anyone that had no religious persuasion or being prone to moral indignation. The upshot was, he would be delighted to ‘suss' out the lay of the land and swore he wouldn’t divulge my whereabouts. 

Normally, I’m not one to fall to one’s knees to ‘mealy-mouth’ for a way out of any difficulties that I have made for myself, but this time it appears HIS intrusion into the affairs of Man, namely, mine, was not needed at all. In fact, you could say that the laugh was on me.

When my good friend Dave approached Marie, wife three by ‘marriage’ he was welcomed in and regaled with all the activities she’d been up to, but no mention was made of my other three darlings.

I would like to add here, I do, I truly do, love them all. There was no blot on any horizon that he could discern with Marie, so he made his way over to Rachel. Now I also want to mention here, that I wasn’t unwise enough to have all my wives domiciled in the same city. No, they lived in different towns. I loved driving in my Tesla car and didn’t mind the travel. I was a super successful finance guy who made millions and needed to travel. My wives raised no objections at all. 

Much the same situation prevailed at Rachel’s home, or at least Rachel’s and my home. Not a trace emerged of what might be considered ‘skullduggery’ on my part. You have to realise, no kids were in the mix, I established this at the outset with my wives that their barrenness was key to a luxurious life. They each acquiesced without any recriminations directed at me at any time.

Whilst Dave surveyed the ‘land,’ I holed up in a hotel where I met a nice ‘filly’ who massaged my problems away in sixty-nine positions. 

It was three days later when Dave returned to report to me what his investigations had uncovered. Fortunately, Susan, my youthful temporary paramour had vacated the premises, otherwise she would have witnessed another uncontrolled exhibition of laughter that would have assailed my ears for a seemingly long time. Even without the presence of my newest acquisition my friend burst into laughter at the mere sight of me and my predicament. When he finally had his shit together, he told me the whole story. 

It appears that I, yes, I, me, the master of the plausible deception, had been deceived. All my safeguards against discovery were as dross. It was the other way around. My wives had made a mistake, their intelligence hadn’t alerted them about the café that I often went to when in the district which made a particularly palatable cup of coffee that I was very partial to. To meet up in this particular place devastated them to know that they had been seen by me.  

The cat had been let out of the bag by Julie May. She had inadvertently disclosed that she knew of the other ‘wives’ and my duplicity. Dave recognising the futility of concealment now, brought all the women together and got the full debacle. 

Apparently my ‘Randiness’ was more legendary than I thought and known priorly to all of my wives. They had all met me within the financial organisations that I frequented. But I had an attribute that is in the long term more prized by many women, I made them laugh, and according to Dave, I continued to make them laugh. Also, I was not around long enough for me to ‘get on their wick,’ or piss them off unduly, so loved the arrangement. They had all the benefits of mistresses, and none of the chores. “What’s not to love about this arrangement,” they said. They had millions to play with and very little downside when I used to turn up at home. They all gave me good marks in the sack, often better than their other lovers. 

I’m now in a quandary, can I go back to my homes now all is known? It wouldn’t be the same? Or will I have to get another set of wives and be much more circumspect where I get my coffee in the future?