Serving Two Mistresses

------------------

Chapter 1: An inheritance

------------------

"How does it feel to finally inherit your family fortune?" asks Wendy, my wife for the last nine years.

My grandfather Mycock had outlived my father by ten years. According to grandfather's will, the bulk of the Deans family fortune now passes to me. Strangely, I don't think my father ever wanted to own the wealth that generations of my ancestors had accumulated. My father and grandfather had barely tolerated each other. The loss of my father in a catastrophic fire ten years ago was a tragedy that affected all of our family, with the exception of grandfather Mycock who barely mourned him at all. Even the medal posthumously awarded to my father for saving dozens of lives at the expense of his own, meant nothing to my grandfather.

"I don't think it has sunk in at the moment," I reply to Wendy's question. "I never realised how much was involved."

"What about your mothers? How are they treating the news?" asks Wendy when I finish my phone call to Valentina.

"They are pleased for me, and no doubt the money left to them will come in handy. However, they never liked grandfather Mycock because of how he treated my father. It's the reason they didn't make the journey here for the reading of grandfather's will."

Wendy had long ago accepted the fact that I have grown up with two mothers. Valentina is my birth mother, but Isabella has always been my mother in all but name as well. These days the pair are legally married to each other, but they have been lovers since before my father met them. Did their intimate relationship ever bother my father? According to what he told me when I was a teenager, he didn't mind in the least. Perhaps his attitude was a reflection of his own parents' influence over his life. To some extent, my father was a rebel, and he lived an unusual life once he left his parents' home.

"Are you William M. Deans?" asks a young woman, interrupting my train of thought.

"Yes," I reply. "This is my wife, Wendy. And you are?"

"Helen," she replies, handing me her business card. "Helen Forrester. I work for your late grandfather's lawyers, Forrester, Blythe and Rivers."

"And are you the Forrester of the firm's title?" I ask.

"No," she laughs. "That Forrester is my uncle. I'm the firm's media adviser. I'm here to advise you if that's OK with you."

"A media adviser?" queries Wendy. "Why would Bill want a media adviser?"

"You do realise that the press are going to want to interview you," says Helen. "It isn't every day that someone inherits thirty million pounds. You will need to be careful that any skeletons in the family closet are kept well hidden, or they'll be public knowledge in a matter of days."

I understand what Helen is driving towards. I don't doubt that the gutter press will have a field day if they get their hands on all the juicy bits about my father's triangular relationship with my two mothers. A 'ménage à trois,' the French call it.

"We need to feed them enough of the truth without revealing anything of substance," continues Helen. "Perhaps you should think back to everything your parents have ever said on the subject of how they met, and where things went from there. Only then can we cherry-pick what is appropriate for the press."

Helen clearly knows that my parents didn't have a simple boy-meets-girl type of relationship. But how much should I confide in Helen. We've only just met, so I'm hardly going to spill my family history... secrets and all... on the strength of one brief meeting.

"We can stall the press for a few days," says Helen. "Why don't you and Wendy talk with your mothers and decide what story you are comfortable to tell. I'll contact you again at the end of the week."

The next morning, Wendy and I return to Norwich and we go to see my mothers. They are relieved that the bulk of the inheritance has come to me. Unknown to me, they had feared that grandfather Mycock might have disinherited me because of my father's rebellion against his wishes. The specific offence my father and mothers committed was to modify Deans family tradition, and name me William Mycock rather than just Mycock. For centuries the oldest son of each generation has been called Mycock, after a distant ancestor who won glory and wealth at the Battle of Waterloo.

When I explain what Helen had said about the press wanting to interview me, Valentina and Isabella sit down with Wendy and me and tell me the story of how they met each other, and my father. Most of their story I already knew, but some parts are given a new perspective. While none of it is any business of the world at large, I know that the press will want something. Helen insisted that feeding the press the story we want to tell was infinitely better than leaving them to dig deep for some dirt.

Wendy carefully writes everything down as my two mothers spill their tale. Their story starts thirty-five years ago, when my mothers were aged in their early twenties...

------------------

Chapter 2: A chance meeting

------------------

Thirty-five years ago

Valentina, or Val as nearly everyone except her mother calls her, doesn't mind the winter snow when she's sat around a roaring fire looking out at the white wonderland. However, when that same snow disrupts her travel plans, then she feels that she has every right to get grumpy. Being stuck in an out-of-the-way place like East Winch is a disaster... well, at least to Val's mind. She would like to blame her current predicament on her parents and brother, Eric, for insisting that she join them for Christmas and New Year. Her father paid for a return ticket for the coach to Nottingham, and Val's employer, Ted, was happy to give her two weeks leave. Although only 24 years old, Val is a qualified pharmacist, and both she and Ted know that she would be hard to replace if she quit. Consequently, when Val asked for leave with only a week's notice, she had already guessed that Ted would agree.

Val supposes that the Christmas and New Year celebrations went off okay. Nobody ended up in hospital from the family spats that inevitably cropped up during the week long family reunion. If she was being honest with herself, Val would admit that some of those family spats were of her own making. Her overbearing parents have never come to terms with Val being a lesbian. That's even though they probably guessed her sexual preferences long before Val told them shortly after her eighteenth birthday. Val never had a boyfriend while she lived at home, and the numerous sleepovers she had with Raewyn were a strong clue about her sexual leaning. Val learned most of what she knows about sex in the intimate company of Raewyn. Moving away to Norwich at least kept the whole issue of her sexual leaning at a safe distance. It isn't as though her parents are being denied grandchildren. Eric and his wife have already produced two kids, with another on the way.

Of course, Val fuelled her parents ire during this trip by colouring her hair purple, and wearing a studded leather collar and jacket that made her look like a cross between a punk rocker and a biker chick. The large O-shaped earrings matching the O-ring on the front of her collar, did nothing towards winning her parents' respect. It might not have been so bad if the collar and earrings had been ditched after the first day, but Val stubbornly wore them throughout her visit. Which is probably why she's now in this shitty mess.

A prolonged blizzard just before Val was due to return to Norwich disrupted all forms of travel. All flights and trains were cancelled and many roads were blocked. Winter snow always comes as a big surprise in England. On reflection, Val should have listened to the 'travel only if essential' warnings, but Hell would freeze over before she spent any more time with her parents. Val managed to get on a rescheduled coach a day later. The coach was fully loaded and set off half an hour late. It was slow going along the main roads and several diversions along secondary roads were necessary. Eventually the driver was forced to make an unscheduled stop at East Winch due to the worsening conditions. The coach could... perhaps, should... have returned to its last stop at King's Lynn, but the driver chose to stay put in the expectation the A47 road to Norwich would be cleared in a couple of hours. It wasn't. By mid afternoon, darkness was approaching and the driver was obliged to ask the coach company to arrange overnight accommodation for his fifty-two stranded passengers. Returning to King's Lynn was no longer possible as all local roads had been closed for the night due to the drifting snow.

The coach company did their best to find accommodation for everyone. The only hotel in town couldn't take everyone, and priority was given to families and the elderly. Val was among the nine remaining passengers waiting patiently on the rapidly cooling coach. Gradually their numbers reduced as helpful local residents offered spare bedrooms to those passengers whom they feel happy inviting into their home. Needless to say a purple haired punk rocker biker chick didn't convey the impression of a good house-guest. Twenty minutes later, Val is the only passenger still to be billeted.

"I can offer you a bed down at the police station," says the local police officer to Val. "It's fairly basic, I'm afraid, but at least you'll be warm."

"Okay, thanks," replies Val, guessing that she isn't going to get a better offer.

East Winch is a small out-of-the-way place that unkind people would call a one-horse-town. Only, in the case of East Winch, somebody must have shot the horse. The police station is tiny, consisting of a small office and two cells at the rear. The offered bed turns out to be a bunk in an unused cell. At least the door is left unlocked. The metal bars between cells reveal the adjacent cell is occupied by an attractive young woman, a year or so younger than Val. She's wearing a bright orange jumpsuit with 'Prisoner in Transit' in bold letters on her back. Her face seems familiar to Val, and suddenly she recalls seeing the woman getting off the coach in the company of another woman in uniform. A thick coat had disguised the bright orange outfit. Val is disturbed to see that the woman prisoner is wearing a waist chain and shackles that are restricting her movements. Given she's locked inside the cell, the shackles seem to be unnecessary, but the police officer who offered Val a bed shows no inclination to release his prisoner from her shackles.

"Hi, I'm Valentina," says Val, feeling the need to talk to the young woman. "Everyone calls me Val."

"Isabella... Izzy," replies the young woman. "What crime did you commit to end up in here?"

"Having purple hair," replies Val. "The good Samaritans of East Winch don't seem to like people with purple hair. I was stranded on the coach, and this was the only bed on offer."

"Hmm. The coach might have been the better deal. The cop here was off-duty when we arrived. He has been recalled to duty in order to watch over me. I don't think he's happy about that. Don't expect breakfast in the morning."

"How come you are here?" asks Val.

"I'm being taken to the county high court so that a judge can quash my prison sentence. I was wrongly convicted of theft. The necklace I supposedly stole was recently discovered to be still in its owner's possession. But for now, I'm a prisoner, so I get to wear this outfit and these chains."

"You got imprisoned for stealing a necklace?!? That seems a bit harsh," queries Val.

"Well the necklace is supposedly worth a lot of money, and its owner practically owns the town I grew up in. He's never forgiven me for seducing his daughter, and supposedly turning her into a lesbian. But I may get the last laugh, he's currently being investigated for insurance fraud."

Val and Izzy talk for a while since there's no other form of entertainment. Although Val could go outside, the blizzard makes exploring the town unattractive.

The two women are remarkably similar in appearance if you ignore the comparison between Val's waist length purple hair and Izzy's wavy shoulder length fair hair. Val is twenty-four years old, while Izzy is twenty-two. Both are five foot eight in height, unblemished oval faces with slightly upturned noses and thin lips. Their slender build, modest round breasts, and delightful arses make them attractive to the eye. However, that's where the similarity ends. Whereas Izzy has muscular limbs, Val is more willowy in appearance. Val is from a moderately wealthy background, she's well educated, and currently works as a pharmacist in a Norwich pharmacy. Izzy on the other hand was raised by a succession of foster parents, left school as soon as she could, and worked as an exotic dancer in a night club before her arrest.

Despite having completely different backgrounds, the two women are soon attracted to each other. Their personalities are a case of opposites attract. An observer may be mistaken by Val's biker chick outfit into thinking she's an in-your-face aggressive type. On the contrary, Val is normally polite and reserved, although not to the point of being called shy. Val coloured her hair, and wore the leather collar and jacket, simply to push back against her over-bearing parents to whom same-sex relationships are an anathema.

Izzy's personality is more of an open book. There's no room for timid wallflowers as a night club dancer, and certainly not in prison. Yet Izzy has a kind and generous side to her nature. Not that the bastard who framed her for theft ever noticed, but Izzy had saved the man's daughter, Heather, from sliding into the abyss of alcohol and drugs. It wasn't Izzy who seduced Heather into lesbian relationships. Heather was already well down that road when she first met Izzy.

"Is there anything you want me to get you?" asks Val when it becomes obvious that the cop in the office has no intention of checking on Izzy.

"Something to eat and drink would be nice," says Izzy. "I'm not sure how long I'm going to be stuck here. The guard escorting me slipped on the ice as we left the coach. Last I saw of her she was sat inside an ambulance. I'm not sure what happened to her after that."

Val goes into the office and finds the lone cop on duty busy answering phone calls. She doesn't disturb him, and walks out onto the street. The blizzard has eased to a steady snowfall. It's freezing cold, but that isn't unusual at this time of year. Unsure what food outlets there are nearby, and which of those are open for business, Val sets off in what she hopes is the most promising direction.

Twenty minutes later Val returns with two burgers, fries and drinks. The cop is still busy answering phone calls, but he stops long enough to release the door lock into the back of the office and the cells beyond. He checks Izzy's food for any signs of a weapon or other contraband before waving Val on through to the cells. Val and Izzy settle down to eat. In Izzy's case her shackles make eating a bit of a challenge, but the bars on her cell are wide enough apart that Val can help her.

As evening turns to night, Val receives a text message on her mobile phone advising her that the main road is expected to be reopened by nine o'clock in the morning. Providing there's no more heavy snow overnight, the coach will depart from the hotel at ten o'clock to take the stranded passengers on to Norwich. Neither Val nor Izzy know what will happen about Izzy's travel. There has been no word on whether her escort will be fit to return to duty tomorrow, or if Izzy will be stuck here until a replacement escort is found.

------------------

Chapter 3: Return to Norwich

------------------

"I hope everything works out okay for you," says Val to Izzy as Val leaves for the coach the next morning. "Look me up once you get released. You can reach me at Ted's Pharmacy on St. Andrew's Street."

"Sure," replies Izzy.

Val arrives back at her apartment on Sunday evening to discover that her flatmate became engaged at Christmas and she's moving in with her new fiancé. She's left two weeks rent in lieu of notice and moved out while Val was away. Finding a new flatmate at this time of year is going to be problematic, and Val's finances aren't up to covering the apartment's lease payments on her own for more than a month or two. She needs another flatmate, or she'll be forced to asked her parents for a loan.

Because of her later than expected return to Norwich, Val only has sixteen hours before she needs to report for work tomorrow morning. She's lost the couple of days she had hoped to have to rinse out the purple colour from her hair. Now she needs to work on her hair for most of the night. Ted might be lenient when granting Val time off work, but he expects all his employees to conform to his dress code. Reporting for work with waist length purple hair is asking for trouble. Val begins to wonder whether her act of defiance has been worth all the hassle it caused.

Val reports for work the next morning with her hair neatly bound in a bun. It's a hairstyle she dislikes, preferring to give her long straight hair the freedom of hanging loose, or in a ponytail if some form of restraint is necessary. Ted certainly likes to see her hair in a ponytail while she works. He says that it pleases the customers, although Val dismisses his claim as hogwash. But it suits Val to have her hair in a ponytail, so she never makes an issue of it.

There's only the slightest hint of purple tinting to her normally brown hair. Either Ted doesn't notice the colour change, or he decides not to make a fuss. He does, however, ask Val to redo her hair into its usual ponytail. If Val wanted any proof that Ted has a desire for a more intimate relationship with her, then his inappropriate request would provide ample ammunition. Nevertheless she complies with his wish. She's likes Ted, but any form of romantic relationship is out of the question.

During her years at university studying to be a pharmacist, Val had dated several male students. While her sexual preferences lean heavily towards women, she doesn't dislike the attention of men, or their company... as long as they keep their cocks in their pants. Unfortunately, that meant her male friendships tended to be short-lived. By her third year of study, those around her had guessed her lesbian leaning, even though she never openly admitted it. Her quiet diffidence left her prey to some of the more predatory lesbian students, while male friends started giving her a wide berth. The overall experience taught Val to be very careful with whom she shared any intimacy. By the time Val graduated, she never spoke about her sexual preferences to anybody but her most trusted friends.

By mid-January, Val's attempts at finding a new flatmate are going nowhere. According to several agents, there's little prospect of finding Val a flatmate before spring. Val arranges to work extra hours at the pharmacy to provide her with some more income. However, Ted can only offer an additional three hours a week, so the boost to her finances is limited.

"There's a young woman asking for you," says Carla while Val is busy making up customers' prescriptions. "At least I think she means you. She was asking for 'Val, the purple haired chick.'"

"Hah! Yes. A private joke. Thanks, Carla. Please will you tell her that I'll be there in a minute. I need to finish making up these prescriptions."

Val is delighted to see Izzy so soon. Izzy looks very different with make-up and wearing regular clothes.

"You look different," both young women say at the same time, prompting a bout of laughter.

"I'm due for my lunch break in twenty minutes if you can wait," says Val. "There's a café across the street where we can get something to eat."

"Sure," replies Izzy. "I've got a job interview at four o'clock, but I'm free until then."