Goldie and the Three Wisconsin Bears

The next day, Mitch and I sit with Goldie in front of the TV in the living room and offer to help. After watching the tutorials a few more times, all three of us get to work. It takes the whole day. We binge the entire run of Tiger King, including the Joel McHale interview special. Jeb tries to sub himself in, but his braids are so chunky and messy, Mitch tells him to go upstairs and work on the house.

“No, I’m staying down here. I want to see how this crazy shit turns out,” Jeb answers.

So that’s how we end up spending one of our last days with Goldie, braiding her hair.

“Should we feel bad that so far the Netflix show we resemble most is Tiger King?” Mitch asks the next morning when it’s Jeb’s turn to wake up with Goldie.

I take a sip of coffee, more than a little consternated. Not because he’s comparing us to a racist gay mullet with a tiger fetish. But because “At least he married both his husbands. We can’t even get Goldie to give us her real name. Plus, she’s determined to head out, even though the Canadian Border’s still not open and race relations in the America outside this cabin is pretty much a dumpster fire right now after the George Floyd and Breonna Taylor murders.”

A shadow passes over Mitch’s face, but he says, “I want to keep her here safe with us too. But we can’t make her stay if she doesn’t want to.”

“No, we cannot.”

I let out a sigh. It feels hopeless. But then a new possibility dawns, clear and bright.

“It’s only been a few months, but that’s enough for me,” I say to Mitch. “I know what I want, and I think you do too.”

Mitch is silent a moment. But then he nods in terse agreement. “I’ll throw Jeb’s vote in there too since he’s currently happy as a clam to be shoved up in his storage space with her.

“Good,” I say, my voice and my resolve hardening. “Then we’ve got to do something to keep her from leaving us.”

Mitch leans forward, with a similarly resolved glint in his eye. “What do you have in mind?”

Chapter Twenty-One

GINA

A couple of weeks pass in a blink of an eye. And true to their promise, the day before the two weeks is up, Jeb heads down to Muskego to pick up the money and take care of a few other things.

I spend most of my last day in the old pot field. Nothing’s ready to harvest quite yet, but I’ve managed to get plenty of stuff in the ground. Carrots, peas, spinach, a few varieties of squashes—including pumpkins, onions, tomatoes, sweet corn, and even a few watermelons. By the time the guys leave for pre-season in late July, Nico will be able to pull everything he needs to make homemade salsa from the ground.

I just wish they were here year round. Then they could get some chickens. And maybe some goats for milk. Supposedly they’re better than cows when it comes to family farms. And ooh, wouldn’t it be nice to plant some winter wheat in the fall, and maybe a few fruit trees?

Stop it, Gina, I chide myself. You’re leaving tomorrow. And you’re never going to see this place again.

Ignoring the ache in my chest, I grab Mitch’s laptop and spend the rest of the day typing suggestions about what to harvest when. I even offer to go over it with Nico and Mitch after dinner.

But Mitch just says, “C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

Often our sex is fast and urgent. We’ve known from the start that there was a timeclock on out arrangement. But that night, Mitch says, “Let’s see if we can keep from coming until he gets here.”

Mitch settles me against his chest while Nico slowly laps at my pussy. But just as I’m on the verge of coming, Nico stops to ask, “Now, what were you trying to tell us about the summer harvest?”

I have to fumble around my dazed thoughts to come up with an answer. But as soon as I mention the eggplants, he grins and brings my hand to his monster cock. All thoughts of seasonal fruits and vegetables fall from my head as he strokes my hand up and down his shaft. We go on that way until Nico’s head falls back, and I can feel his cock pulsing underneath our hands.

“He’s getting too close, Goldie. Back off, baby,” Mitch says. His tone is light and joking as he turns me around to face him.

He kisses me slow and deep while Nico plays with the puckered hole between my cheeks. It‘s stimulating for sure, but not so much that I can reach a climax. When Nico’s calmed down again, he leaves to wash his hands. Meanwhile, Mitch hooks my legs over his shoulders and lazily laps at me.