To try to make a long and very painful story short, a battery of tests and scans disclosed the devastating news that Amy had advanced liver cancer. Surgery was impossible. She tried a new treatment recommended by the oncologist, but it did nothing to slow the spread of the disease. As Amy became more disabled by her illness, I stopped going to work and moved in with her to take care of her. Towards the end, I was carrying her to the bathroom, setting her on the toilet, and wiping her ass.
Reading that last sentence, it sounds disgusting. At the time, it wasn't. I felt that I had let Amy down by letting her get sick and then not being able to make her well. I was determined to do whatever I could for her, no matter how mundane or dirty.
Amy passed only a few months after her diagnosis. I was a mess. I stumbled through a private graveside service. That was followed by a public memorial service at the largest Protestant church in town. Even in that huge facility, it was standing room only with Amy's friends, colleagues, and then many others whose lives she had touched. I sat with Sarah and Mala. They told me later that they tried to talk to me, but all I did was grunt. I have no recollection. After the service, there was a "reception." I did not go. Rather, I stumbled off to my car and went home. Although I was completely sober, I was probably more dangerous driving than someone who blows 2.0. I was in a daze, depressed, and didn't give a shit.
Fortunately, I made it home. I went into the house, undressed, and poured a vodka & tonic. That should have been a wake-up call to me, because I almost never drink hard liquor. I sat in a chair in the living room drinking and berating myself for having let Amy die. Everything seemed pointless. I doubt that I could have mustered the energy, or the will, to go take a leak. I was wallowing in my misery.
A couple of hours later, my front door opened. Sarah and Mala walked in and took their clothes off. Sarah walked over to where I was sitting, picked up my glass, went to the kitchen and poured it out. When she walked back into the room, Mala said "Harry, we need to talk."
Generally, it is not a good thing for the guy when a woman tells him "we need to talk." Amazingly, I did not feel at all intoxicated. I waited with trepidation for whatever was coming next.
Sarah started, "Harry, we know that losing Amy has been very hard on you. You two had a connection that predates me, and was very strong. We were happy to cover the practice while you took care of her. But, it is over. You know how committed Amy was to our firm and to our way of practicing and living. The best thing you can do to honor her memory is to snap out of it. We need you back in the office."
I assume trying to lighten the mood, Mala added, "And in us. I love Sarah and Terry dearly, but seeing only bare tits and cunts at work every day is getting old. I want to see you dick bouncing around the office again."
Sarah glanced at Mala, and then she said, "Harry, Mala and I have talked at length. We want to move in with you. Both of us, permanently."
My face must have registered something akin to shock because Sarah went on. "I know it sounds a bit weird, but losing Amy has left a huge void in your life. The only other people who can fill that void are Mala and me. We share your work and your lifestyle, and we know you. We both love you very much, and we know that you love us very much. We decided that it didn't make any sense for one of us to pair up with you and leave the other 'outside.' The only sensible thing is for the three of us to live together."
I had just buried one of the three greatest ladies on earth. Now, the other two were saying that they both wanted to live with me. How long could that last, I thought. This had to be just something to motivate me to come back to work.
Mala was reading my mind. "Harry, we're talking lifetime commitment here. You know that we can't legally have a three-way marriage, but that's the concept. We're planning on being here when Viagra won't get you up and our tits sag to our knees. Trust us, it will work. We'll make it work."
Somehow, I realized that Sarah and Mala were completely sincere. In my raw emotional state, this affected me powerfully, and I think that I teared up. After looking at them for a few moments, I knew that they were right. I did love them both, very much. There was a special bond between us. I also knew that Amy would approve, wholeheartedly. I nodded my head yes, and croaked out "What do you want me to do?"
Mala was lying back, spreading her legs. Sarah smiled and said, "Well you can start by eating Mala."
I like to think that I would have come out of it eventually anyway, but the proposal from Sarah and Mala got me out of my grieving, self-pitying state of mind. We got them completely moved into my house within a few days. While Amy was always in my mind, setting up house with Sarah and Mala was, quite simply, the best thing that had ever happened to me. Our one ground rule, with a few practical exceptions, was that all three of us stayed nude at all times at home. I deeded my property from myself to Sarah, Mala, and myself as joint tenants with right of survivorship. All three of us closed our bank and brokerage accounts and pooled our assets in joint accounts with survivorship.
Oddly, my first day back in the office was a bit like taking off a weighted vest. Things felt back to normal. Sarah, Mala, and I were riding in together now, and all three of us liked to get in early. I was just taking my cup of hot tea out of the microwave when Terry walked into the kitchen. She hugged me very tightly. Then, she stepped back and step, looked down, and smiled. "It is really good to see a naked penis in this office again. Welcome back, Boss."
After a few weeks had passed, I was fully back into the swing; and our "marriage" was working very well. I was sitting in my office one afternoon, early in the week, when Mala walked in.
"You know that I've been doing a decent amount of work for Claire Robertson, don't you?" she asked.
