As anniversaries go, that one was up there. Sure, we had the video we'd made together, but nothing beat the mental images I'd gathered from the marathon of sex that night. November had only just arrived and weren't going to Paris for another few months, I still had the summer intensive to prepare for, yet in the midst of making notes the memory of the two girls entwined underneath my thrusting body would flash across my mind and I'd go vacant. It was pleasant, but not conducive to outlining a lecture on Foucault and critical theory.
I figured that those memories would probably need to stay with me. While the trip to France would be phenomenal, except for a brief house sit, the first few months we planned to back pack around hostels, not the most conducive places to having a threeway relationship with twin sisters. I mean, sure, France might seem more permissive and Paris is the city of love, but I didn't think that stretched quite as far as our particular ménage a trios.
The intensive ended up going well, though I needed to leave a little more of the trip planning to Lydia and Flick. I'd often be at my desk, underlining passages and taking notes from The History of Sexuality, overhearing their quiet discussions. A map appeared on the kitchen wall with pen notations and little blobs of ink to show towns we could visit, dates for Spain and Italy appearing alongside the trip planner on the fridge.
Flick interrupted me one afternoon as I was trying to decide which books I wanted to bring with us. Madame Bovary was a given, but could I fit Matthiessen's Shadow Country in as well?
'So, we think we've found it,' she said.
Looking up from the books in my hand, I raised an eyebrow. 'Found what?'
'Where we are going to stay. Come here,' holding out the laptop in her hands. She scrolled through a posting on a house sit website. Somewhat rural, just near Fontainebleau outside of Paris by an hour. 'It's a little small, I know, but they say it's a king sized bed, and they have a cat we'd need to look after. So could go for an overnight to Paris, but otherwise stay local.'
'Looks delightful. How long do they want sitters for?'
'Just short of a month I think, 25 days. Although it's not until two weeks after we arrive, so maybe we could start in Paris then head down there?'
'Lock it in Flick.' I kissed her. 'Thanks for doing this with Lydia.'
She blushed. 'It hasn't all been planning you know. When you were in class last Tuesday I walked in to ask her what our luggage limit was again and she was spreadeagled on the bed with my vibrator inside her.'
I sighed. Living with insatiable twins. The wonders would never cease. I kissed Flick and she dragged me to the bedroom so she could show me exactly what Lydia had been doing.
Finally we managed to finish packing and move out of the house. I'd finished the grading of the intensive papers a day before we moved, the twins had wheedled their dad to help us shift the boxes into storage. I'd seen their parents a few times since we told them of our relationship and plans to travel. It still felt a little awkward, though that was thawing. Hey, when you're young, even into your mid twenties, spending time with the parentals can be a slightly uncomfortable experience. Now imagine that dynamic when he knows you're railing each of his twin daughters.
At one point, sweaty, I stopped to stretch my back. I'm not sure why I used the larger boxes to fill with books. Fewer trips I guess, but fuck it made things hard. Luckily I'd kept up my rock climbing in the past few months. Lydia came over to rub my shoulders and give me a kiss, and Daniel wandered in at that exact moment.
'Ah, sorry, I'll just...' he said.
'Don't be silly Dad. It's those boxes over there,' as Lydia gestured to the corner.
'Sure, uh, can do.'
I think it was made a little more strange for him as Flick had kissed me goodbye on a tip run when he first arrived. Nothing like driving home that his daughters were dating the same man I guess. I felt a little bad and usually tried to be considerate about things, he took the relationship pretty well.
I had to crash at a friend's place for four days to cover the space between then and when we flew out, while the twins moved back home. Not that their parents wouldn't have welcomed me, just that they only had two single beds available and I'd have enough of sleeping on shitty mattresses backpacking that I could do without a camp mat on the floor. Although I did miss them, not having been apart like that for so long.
The flight was long. And uncomfortable. We never did work out how to join the mile high club. It seems easy in stories but I'm now confident that airline staff cover off how to cock block in basic training. Every time I tried to go to the bathroom with Flick (the exhibitionist of our trio), someone would be there, or a suspicious look was thrown our way. Ah well. While I'd never pass up a chance to be with my girls, those toilets are cramped. And after ten hours in the air they develop a fragrance that doesn't really turn people on.
Paris was a different story. I'd been here once before - after nearly six months hiking and climbing around South East Asia and the sub-continent. That was the first time I had culture shock. There's not a lot of cheese and wine in Thailand or India and when I got to Paris I indulged a touch more than I should have.
This time I had two stunning women on my arm. Well. They would be outwardly stunning again after a shower. We'd had a rough connection and 23 hours of travel take a toll.
'Ugh. Where's the hostel?' Lydia was exhausted. Flick and I had grabbed a few hours of sleep on the flight, Lydia not so much.
'I think we get off at Gard du Nord? It's not far from there.' I squeezed Lydia's arm. 'Two stops.'
She slumped against my shoulder and closed her eyes. I was holding Flick's hand. I noticed one of the passengers staring at the three of us and realised I'd need to be more careful. That was an innocuous interaction, but I couldn't exactly wander around kissing both of them under the Eiffel Tower. Although, that was an awfully tempting thought.
The first three days we'd booked a private room in the hostel, thinking we'd like a bit more quiet time to decompress and recover from the trip. Having landed fairly late in the day, we showered (no private bathroom unfortunately) and went out for dinner. And wine. And some cheese. Because it was Paris, after all.
Which is an easy place to romanticise. In many ways it's just a city. We'd walk down one street and the shop fronts were barred windows with mobile phone repair stores signed with their flashing neon glaring off the wet pavement. Then you'd turn the corner into another district and find cobbled streets with four storey apartments and a more classic Parisian feel. Another street would smell like a urinal. The next corner unveiled a patisserie with gold lettering and eclairs lining the window. A boulevard of trees and a pharmacy with green first aid sign in the window (also neon). Why green? It's strange the things a sleep deprived mind focuses on.
'Can we please sleep?' Flick this time.
'God yes.' Lydia was almost stumbling against her sister.
I wish I could tell you of our first romantic threesome in Paris that night; all that occurred when we got back to the hostel was a reasonable amount of broken sleep. I'd pushed the two twin beds together so we had a good space to spread out. I woke at 2am, wide eyed, and stayed that way for nearly two hours before I drifted off again.
Next I opened my eyes there was sun coming in behind the window shades. It was Flick's turn to be wide awake.
'How long?'
She groaned softly. 'Not that bad I guess. Only an hour. I think I slept well before then.'
Lydia's groan matched her sister's. 'Urgh. Why did we have wine last night?'
'Because we're on holiday?'
