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One Off?

By: bill_p99



I have to relate this tale while it's fresh in my mind else I will either forget the details or embroider the events. I am trying to be honest and realistic about it but as you will see events can have different connotations to the individuals concerned and I do not want to delude myself. I am an early-fifties married man. Beck is nineteen, slim and pretty.

I had gone to a holiday camp and stayed in an apartment with my wife, and daughter. A couple of days into the holiday my daughter's friend Beck. This was great because my daughter had a friend to keep her occupied. She didn't have to be bored with us.

One of the first things we did when she arrived was, go to the leisure pool for a splash about and to break the ice with a bit of fun. Being me, I couldn't help notice that Beck had a fine body in her bikini she, was slim and pretty with pale skin, dark brown eyes and hair. Her breasts were smallish but perfectly acceptable and she had a beautiful mound between her legs, which the white patterned bikini bottom stretched over. Anyway I did not want to make things uncomfortable so only occasionally glanced at her. I was stood with my wife talking, in a pool with a water slide tube and was quite unaware of how close I was to the exit from the tube, until a pair of legs shot out, wrapping around mine ..... catching me between them. It was Beck and I had both my legs, up against her crotch. I laughed and she looked a little shyly (or annoyed) at me I apologised and she laughed, which stopped any embarrassment.

On the night we all had a meal and a few drinks watched telly in the apartment and then went to bed. The following day was spent accessing the rides and park facilities, on the night the girls went to a night club and we stayed in. One of the irritations I found in the apartment was that there were no pint glasses so the following day I set a challenge for any of them who would 'borrow' for me one, from the camp pub offering (tongue in cheek) a kiss as a reward. They laughed and jeered at that. However Beck did 'borrow' a glass and as she handed it to me I gave her a kiss on the cheek. She jokingly said she might do more "for more of that". Which certainly raised an eyebrow with me, if not the wife. 

The next day we went to town and left the girls. On the night we again had a meal a drink and watched TV as we all relaxed Beck changed into her pyjamas. We sat on 2 settees at right angles to each other with the television set in the corner. Beck was sat next to my daughter and me next to my wife diagonally opposite her. We watched a reality TV show and from the corner of my eye I noticed that Beck was sat with her knees under her chin, with her arms on her knees as she played with her mobile phone. Occasionally we all talked about the show so I turned toward Beck and could see her white pants through her pyjamas. They were silky white probably lycra and covered her crotch, nestled between her thighs. As I looked, she gently opened and closed them, facing directly at me, with the seam of her pyjamas, separating her labia down the middle. This broke my concentration on the show. I kept turning when anybody spoke, ostensibly to take a sneaky peek, without attracting my wife or daughters attention. This went on for a good half hour. I don't know if Beck noticed as she seemed to be concentrating on texting her boyfriend. When the show finished everybody went off to bed. I was sleeping on one of the settees, so was already in my bedroom. I had a lot to think about. Was she displaying herself intentionally or was I deluding myself? 

The next day it was raining early on, so I relaxed reading a novel. Beck had on a white large polka dot patterned dress, which buttoned down the front. My daughter suggested a game of cards, until the rain died out. I declined, as I was reading but was sat next to the coffee table, they were using. Beck was opposite me and as she sat, her dress rode up her long legs and split open half way up her thighs. I didn't stare but occasionally looked with the pretext of looking at my wife's hand, which afforded me a view of Becks thighs. I checked myself as I thought she obviously didn't want an old man like me ogling her, but there was one incident that made me prick up my ears. As she was laying a card, she leaned forward awkwardly and kicked her leg in the air then announced. 

"I need to be careful, I'm showing my bum!" 

This immediately grabbed my attention but I merely raised an eyebrow and looked up as she caught my look and smiled. 

I began to think "It's me – I'm just a pervert." 

I know I have a thing about panties and crotches and just have to control myself. 

I was under control until we all went to the rides. Beck and my daughter decided to go on the para-wheel which is effectively a set of chairs with parasols on top, that go round and round and up and down. They asked me to take some photographs and as they went, round I positioned myself underneath them on the downward movement. This position caught Beck's dress split open, right back to her pants. Unfortunately I could not see clearly but took plenty of pictures, so I could view them later. She didn't seem that bothered about displaying herself. We finished with the rides and went back to the apartment.

After the day out we were all tired and stayed in the apartment, on the night. The girls decided to continue playing cards, I again demurred as I wanted to finish reading my book. Beck was happy and bubbly and my wife asked her what had gotten into her she replied in the same happy manner, that she was excited about the game. Again Beck sat next to my daughter, the low level coffee table in the middle, with my wife opposite on a small cushion. I sat at the opposite end of the settee, to where I had the day before. I was not in a good position to look at Beck's legs. I had taken this position purposefully so that I could test if it was just my imagination or if she was displaying herself to me on purpose.

They all got into the game and Beck sat with a pillow over her knees, as she sat in a kneeling position, on the settee. I could see her knees were apart but I would have had to move to the other end of the settee, to have a good look up her dress. This I did not do, as I didn't want to make it blatantly obvious, what my shameful intentions were. Instead I decided that I would sit where I was and if she wanted to show me, SHE would have to move. 

One difficulty I have is that I read with my glasses off and need to put them on for seeing any distances further than six feet. I explained to everyone that when I wanted to take a drink, I needed to put my spectacles on, which made them all laugh. As they continued I noticed Beck turning slightly until she was facing me. She still had the pillow over her thighs, on which she rested her cards but her knees were quite far apart. I couldn't get a good view because my daughter was in the way, no matter how I tried to discreetly, ease myself up in my chair. Then a miracle. My wife and daughter smoke (which I hate) but Beck's doesn't. They decided to go outside for a smoke and asked Beck if she wanted to come and talk with them – but she (thankfully) declined. They got up and moved out of the apartment. 

Beck picked her mobile phone up still facing me. I picked my spectacles up and turned to her. She was knelt on the settee with her knees and dress wide apart and pillar resting on her thighs and I could see her crotch clad in green lycra. She never looked at me and stayed like this whilst I began to shake and become breathless with sexual excitement. If anything she spread her legs wider. I made a few cursory head movements toward the television, as if I was bothered and even spoke about the shows, which was the only time she looked me in the eye, she would then look away and I would resume staring, right between her legs. 

I knew I only had a couple of minutes so had to soak up as much as I could. I shook with excitement as I lifted my glass and stared between her legs, the tight matt mound framed by a frilled edge and the tops of her open thighs. She continued composing her message and never to my knowledge, looked at what I was doing, as I did look up to her pretty face, occasionally.

My wife and daughter returned and she pushed the pillow down, her legs to cover herself as I removed my spectacles and returned to my book. I was still slightly breathless as it had been one of the most exciting experiences I'd had in years. The reason being that it seemed she intended it to happen – I think. Shortly afterwards she decided to go to bed which suited me as my view was once again obstructed. As I was settling down she returned once again in her pyjamas and I could see her green panties through them. As she walked back down the corridor she swung her hips from side to side, so sexily.

The next morning she was due to return home and she was packing her clothes. I walked into her room where she sat on the floor cross legged, packing. I was in my shorts and intending to have a shower I looked down and asked her if she would like to use the shower first. She bent forward and I could see her breasts, down the front of her white top, she looked into my eyes smiled and said "No thanks" then lowered her eyes and stared directly at my cock. I turned to go, knowing, I was going to have to relieve myself pre-shower, which I did, in the bathroom without any problem at all.

It was so good but I wonder if it was a one off. Since then she sent messages to us to say she had a wonderful time but did not answer my reply. When she called my daughter and I answered, with "Hi Beck" she didn't reply. 

Was it intentional? What do you think? Please add your comment.

One Old Fool



*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.




Chapter 1

Cindy Scandurro cast a quick, practiced eye around and nodded in satisfaction. She relished her promotion to floor manager of Abdul's Department Store, was grateful for being pulled out of the anonymity of Credit Manager, tucked away in the dusty office on the third floor, to the wide open space of the ground floor of the trendy department store.

The small electronics display had its usual gathering of young teenagers admiring the latest gadgets. One of the youths, however, was paying more attention to his surroundings than to the gadget in front of him. Cindy almost smiled; he was a little too obvious to someone who knew the signs to look for.

"Got him," Hillary Monroe, one of the store employees said, smirking.

Cindy made a mental note to talk with Heather Lee, the head of Abdul's Security. Hillary Monroe seemed to have radar for shoplifters; she also had an eye for display arrangements that maximized appeal, but minimized theft potential.

As if Heather could sense Cindy's thoughts, the bone tin red head popped up.

"See Deputy Dawg's on it again," the young lady giggled.

Cindy couldn't help but giggle too; the young lady's enthusiasm and bubbly personality was contagious. That was part of what made the former high school cheerleader so effective at her job. Few shoppers would ever suspect that the flighty, giggly woman was monitoring the floor.

(One woman had actually asked Heather, "See anyone looking this way?"

"No, why?" Heather had asked.

"'Cause," the woman said and stuffed an alligator wallet into her purse.

"You're not supposed to do that!" Heather had gasped.

"Shit, ain't nobody going to miss it," the woman sneered.

When Heather walked into the small holding area, the woman actually told James Hebert, the store manager, "That girl didn't do nothing; she ain't with me. Y'all need to just let her go, you hear?"

"She's right," Heather told James, who was fighting hard not to laugh out loud. "I ain't one nothing; I don't even know her!")

The boy, unknowing that the gig was up, pocketed the item he had been looking at, nodded to his friends, and casually strolled toward the revolving door of the store.

His friends, without realizing it,  made his escape nearly impossible. They all gave him their undivided attention, which would have alerted even the most inexperienced sales associate suspicious.

"Not so fast, Buddy," Hillary snapped when the boy reached to push the door. "What you got in that pocket?"

"Nothing," the boy denied.

"Thank you, Ms. Monroe," Heather smiled, showing the young man her security ID. "Want to come with me, Honey?"

The group of boys giggled and gasped as their friend was escorted to the bank of elevators by a smiling Heather Lee. None of the boys had any concern for their friend's well-being.

"Good job, Ms. Monroe," Cindy smiled as she walked down the Tiled aisle, checking on the various departments.

"Thank you, Mrs. Scandurro," Hillary beamed as she returned to her cash register.

Cindy passed the jewelry counter, avoiding any eye contact with Glen Simone.

She did not like the man, had actually tried to block his employment and had complained when the man was made manager of the jewelry counter.

She had no specific complaint, though; he just made her uncomfortable. James Hebert had smiled his patriarchal smile, thanked her for her concern, and dismissed her.

Glen smirked as Cindy Scandurro marched past his counter. He knew the woman was attracted to him. Because she was married, she felt guilty for her attraction to him and tried to mask it, claiming that she did not like him.  She constantly found fault with him, with his work.

When he had been made manager, it had been Cindy that had protested. Obviously, she wanted him to be subservient to her; she knew that the next step was for him to be promoted to floor manager, be promoted to being her superior.

She also objected when he showed any attention to the several attractive young women that Abdul's hired, or to the scores of young women that flocked to the jewelry counter. More than once, James had pulled him into the office to talk about appropriate and inappropriate behavior.

It was obvious to Glen that James resented having to pass the torch on. At one time, James had been a bit of a hound himself. Age was catching up to the man.

At forty seven, Glen knew the time would come that he too would have to pass the torch on to someone younger, more attractive. That day had not come yet, so he religiously applied the hair coloring and skin bronzer.

"Hi, Ms. Scandurro," Tracy Mouton smiled as she passed the manager.

Cindy greeted the new employee, cursing herself for not being able to remember the attractive blonde's name.

Glen looked up and smiled; his latest conquest was walking toward him.

From the moment Tracy Mouton had been hired, Glen knew he had to have her. She had long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a body that just begged to be squeezed. Her chest was an impressive thirty eight Double D, her waist was almost impossibly tiny, twenty four inches around, and her succulent ass and hips swelled out to thirty four inches. Her legs, what was visible under the knee length skirts she wore, appeared to be muscular, tan legs.

Her lips were a beautiful dick sucking pout and her tongue was a delightful pink that often licked at her lips.

Tracy gave him a curt greeting, immediately pulled out her notebook and ran through her checklist.

"Just you and me right now; I'm off at six," Glen commented as she entered her code into the cash register.

"Uh huh," Tracy said.

The sparkle of her engagement and wedding rings meant absolutely nothing to Glen. He himself had worn four wedding bands but thankfully, was unencumbered by such symbols at present. Tammy Timmons, the woman he was living with at the moment was hinting that she'd like one, though.

"Hey!" Hillary chanced a quick step over to the jewelry counter.

Glen ignored the young woman; she was equally as attractive as Tracy, with long blonde hair, heart shaped face, ice cold blue eyes, large breasts, small waist, and tight ass. But Hillary was condescending, rude, arrogant.

Tracy was all of those things, but unlike Hillary, who was stationed twenty feet away, Tracy was in close proximity to him. He could smell her light perfume, her heady sweat, her sugar free gum, usually mint. He could clearly make out the straps of her bra through her blouses, could hear the rustle of her stockings as she walked.

Tracy smiled at her new friend. When she had first started training at Abdul's, it had been Hillary that volunteered to show her the procedures. 

"What time you going to dinner?" Hillary asked.

"Damn, girl!" Tracy laughed. "I just got here!"

"I'm pulling a double; Eileen's 'SICK' again," Hillary said.

"Sick?" Tracy snorted. "Hmm! On a Monday? Sick? Hmm!"

"I know, right?" Hillary said.

"I'll call you," Tracy promised.

"Wings?" Hillary asked.

"You know it!" Tracy said.

"There's this bar, the Dead End? Got some of the best wings anywhere," Glen offered.

"A strip club? Oh, oh, okay," Tracy rolled her eyes at him.

Hillary saw a woman, obviously baffled by all the different gadgets available.

"Oops, got to earn my commission," Hillary smiled and walked over to the customer.

"Yeah, you probably wouldn't want to go there," Glen smiled seductively. "Then girls take one look at you and quit."

Tracy ignored him and grabbed the glass cleaner and rag and began cleaning the counter.

"Ever been in there, though? Nice place," Glen continued.

Tracy saw that a ring was missing from its mount.

"Sell that ring?" she asked Glen, speaking directly to him.

"The princess cut? Put it on layaway," Glen said.

"And didn't put anything in its place?" she asked him, her disapproval evident.

"Didn't have time; just rang it up..." Glen said.

"Last transaction on the register when I logged in was at eleven twenty four," Tracy cut him off. "One o'clock now. What have you been doing all that time?"

Glen pulled the heavy ring of keys from the shelf and resisted the urge to throw them at her. He squatted down and unlocked the case. He peered through the glass and saw Cindy looking at him. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement.

Cindy had been at the cosmetics counter and had overheard the exchange between Tracy and Glen. The smile she wore was not for Glen, but for the bright, energetic woman that was busily cleaning the area.

"What the fuck; you ain't half bad for an old broad," Glen smiled at Cindy, then slid the panel shut and locked it.

"Okay, going to lunch now," Glen said to Tracy.

She did not look up, just nodded to acknowledge that she'd heard him.

Glen Simone did not look at James Kowalski as the officer ambled into the store. Why should he? An overweight aging police officer held no interest for him.

Glen did not curtly when the police officer entered the elevator with him.

"Three please," James asked.

James did not press for conversation; he wanted to get away from the salesman. The overwhelming cologne, the dyed hair, and the artificial tan the man sported told James Kowalski everything he needed to know about Glen Simone. The man was a sleazy amoral person trying to cling onto his youth with all the desperation of a drowning man clinging onto a life raft.

"Thanks," the police officer said and turned right, heading toward the Security office.

"Uh huh," Glen said and turned left, toward his locker.

Tammy had packed him a lunch. Glen hated eating the sandwiches made with slightly stale bread, the little bag of potato chips and whatever fruit she put into the paper bag. He would rather go down to the Dead End and have their plate lunch, or their excellent wings, would rather look for Tammy's replacement among the very nubile young ladies that worked there. But Tammy had sat him down and shown him a ledger, showing him their income and their expenses.

Courtney had managed, somehow, to start squeezing child support out of him for Glen Junior and Robert. Eight hundred a month came directly out of his pay check before he even saw a penny of his money.

"We can't afford twenty, thirty dollars a day for you to go eat out," Tammy had said.

"Uh, what about this over here?" Glen had argued. "You're making..."

"Said that right," she had smirked. "I'm making. I'M MAKING. Lucky I don't start charging you rent, mother fucker."

Tammy had been very easy to seduce; the thirty two year old accountant was going over his income tax returns with him and Glen had put on his smile and charm.

The woman looked up, surprised. Glen was one of the few that had flirted with her although she didn't understand why more of her clients didn't flirt with her. She was the proper weight for her height of nearly six feet, wore fashionable clothes, and had no rings signifying any attachment status.

The problem was that she tended to talk in an almost bored tone of voice that made people feel that she was uninterested in them. Her blonde hair was cut in an extremely unflattering style, parted in the middle, with bangs that reached her shoulders, but the back of her hair just reached the nape of her neck. It hadn't looked good when Suzanne Vega wore it cut like that, and it didn't look good now. Tammy had liked it, though, thought it looked smart, sophisticated, and artistic.

Glen had assumed that Tammy was lesbian and had flirted with her, almost as a joke. He had to admit; he did relish the idea of seducing a lesbian and sending her home with something different for her girlfriend to taste.

At first, Tammy was a voracious lover, hungry for his approval and his touch. As her confidence grew, though, she soon assumed control, or assumed she had control.

On the issue of lunch, Glen decided he'd let her believe she had control.

In the lunchroom, Glen smiled and nodded in greeting to the few employees that he deemed worthy of greeting. April Leblanc, a chubby little brunette from the credit department returned his greeting with far too much enthusiasm but Glen smiled at her. He wasn't a 'Chubby Chaser' but every now and then fucking a fat girl was fun.

****

On the sales floor, Tracy was going over the inventory of Rolex watches, checking them against what lat night's inventory log said they should have.

"I don't believe I've ever seen Glen Simone check that," Cindy said to Kate Benson, the manager of the cosmetics department.

"I really wouldn't know," Kate admitted.

She looked over her shoulder at the Estee Lauder counter, where the young girl was busily texting on her cell phone.

"Would love to have one of my associates actually to that," she said to Cindy. "Would have to break their thumbs though."

My grandson? Cristopher Michael? He's only six but he knows all about that texting silliness," Cindy said, looking at the young lady texting. 

"I'm on it," Kate said, reaching into her drawer for the binder.

"How many does that make?" Cindy asked.

"Damn, whish you hadn't asked that," Kate frowned, pulling out two former disciplinary action sheets that Nancy had managed to accumulate.

"Got anyone fills in for Nancy?" Cindy asked.

"Olivia's desperate to make up for last month," Kate said.

"Okay," Cindy said.

A customer lingered nearby, waiting for Nancy to finish her texting.

"Ma'am, I will be happy to help you over here," Kate smiled pleasantly.

"I just wanted to see that foundation," the woman said, pointing.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the young associate said, hurriedly stashing the cell phone out of sight. "I didn't see you there!"

"Because I don't have a touch screen on my forehead, no doubt," the customer said.

"Nancy, you can go clean out your locker," Kate said, putting the disciplinary sheet in front of Nancy.

Nancy burst into tears. Kate and the customer were unmoved, though.

"Thank you; I do appreciate your help," the customer said after Kate rang up the purchase.

"Ma'am, I appreciate your patience. Most people would have walked away after being ignored like that," Kate admitted.

"Almost did," the customer said.

"Olivia's on her way," Cindy said.

"Thank you," Kate said.

****

Tracy watched the exchange between Kate, Cindy, and Nancy. She looked over at Hillary and saw that Hillary had also witnessed the firing of the associate.

"Oh shit," Hillary mouthed and Tracy nodded.

"Ma'am, let me see those earrings, them right there," a woman demanded, pointing to a sapphire set.

"Yes ma'am," Tracy smiled pleasantly, unlocking the case.

"Hmm, um, how about them right there?" the woman said, pointing to another set of sapphire earrings.

"Of course," Tracy smiled.

The woman tried to get Tracy to pull out fie sets and grew agitated when Tracy picked up the first two sets.

"I ain't done looking at them," she snapped.

"Ma'am, I can only have three items out at a time; sign's right there," Tracy politely told her.

"But I want to look at them all," the woman demanded.

"Problem, ma'am?" Cindy politely asked.

She listened as the woman demanded to see the five different sets of earrings.

"Ma'am, our associate is correct; she can only have three individual pieces out at any given time," Cindy smiled. "Our insurance will not let her have any more than that.

"Well your insurance can kiss my ass think I'm giving y'all any of my money," the woman spat and walked away.

"You do know, you could have bent the rules," Cindy smiled.

"She had on bargain brand jeans and five dollar flip-flops," Tracy shook her head. "She wasn't shopping."

"That's my favorite outfit when I'm at home," Cindy confessed.

"I don't even want to tell you what I wear when I'm home," Tracy smiled. "But, when I'm going out shopping, I do get a little dressed up."

****

Glen watched as the tight asses of Hillary and Tracy walked away.

In high school, the girls had put a little extra 'swish' in their step if they knew Glen Simone was watching. To this day, Glen still loved the pleated skirts of Catholic school uniforms.

(There were quite a few of the girls that vied for his attention. Having his pick, Glen only went after the best. Carmen Thibodaux was the cream of the crop. Her long blonde hair and warm brown eyes would have been hard enough to resist, but her body was spectacular and her personality was warm, friendly, and happy.

Carmen was dating Sammy Hopper, had been dating him for three years, and most likely would be marrying him as soon as they had their diplomas in hand. Then St. Thomas Aquinas managed to beat Elgee's Boy's Academy in a stunning upset and some colleges took notice of Sammy Hopper's impressive arm strength.

"I'm sure he's enjoying himself," Glen told Carmen as she waited in line at Early's Grocery. "All those cheerleaders around."

"What do you mean?" Carmen asked.

"Oh, nothing, nothing, you know, just that some of those colleges might not be too, um, too ethical when it comes to getting a star quarterback on their team," Glen smirked. "Throw a couple of their girls his way."

Sammy wouldn't do that," Carmen had gasped.

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Glen said.

Sammy didn't help his cause by talking of all the parties he'd been dragged to.

"Another one?" Glen asked Carmen as Sammy boarded the bus that would take him to Mississippi State.

"He swears he's not doing none of that," Carmen had declared.

Sure he's not; hey, my mom's working late tonight; why don't you stop by? Glen asked.

"What for?" Carmen asked.

"We got one of them VCRs and just got a bunch of movies," Glen said.

"Ooh, my dad said he's been thinking about getting one of them," Carmen said excitedly.

"And, we got a microwave; makes popcorn just like you get at the movies," Glen went on.

"With all the butter and all?" Carmen asked.

"Tastes just like it," Glen assured her.

Carmen did not suspect Glen of any ulterior motives; he was a class mate. 

Glen's mother, Elaine, was an avid Humphrey Bogart fan and Glen found out that Carmen was also a fan. So, he spent their first date on the couch, with a bowl of popcorn between them, watching 'Casablanca.'

For his troubles of enduring a horrible movie, Glen got a kiss on his cheek and a "see you Monday."

Sammy's magic arm again propelled the St. Thomas Aquinas Avengers past the DeGarde Bulldogs and some larger colleges took notice.

"Texas A&M? Wow, that is something," Glen congratulated Sammy.

"Yeah; they invited me up to the L.S.U. game," Sammy cheerfully agreed.

"Love their cheerleaders," Glen said and smirked at the flash of annoyance on Carmen's face.

"Yeah, they are so fine!" Sammy agreed.

"Uh, excuse me, I am right here!" Carmen said petulantly.

"Oh, hey, my mom just got in 'African Queen,'" Glen said. 

"Oh, my God!" Carmen squealed. "I haven't seen that one in like forever!"

"And you're not going to see it now," Sammy ordered, grabbing Carmen's arm and squeezing it tightly.)

Glen's reverie was broken by a woman dropping a heavy purse onto the counter.

"I see them earrings right there?" the woman asked.

Heather Lee watched the woman carefully; Cindy Scandurro had pointed the woman out to the security officer. The woman kept demanding to see different sets of earrings and kept her purse close at hand.

Glen kept retrieving the earrings.

"Ooh, let me see how these would look with that what you call it right there," the woman demanded.

Glen turned to pull the choker out and the woman dropped two sets of earrings into her purse.

"I be back; my check come in on Wednesday," the woman promised.

Her cheap flip-flops slapped against the tiled floor as she casually strolled to the entrance. Along the way, she also helped herself to a bottle of perfume from a display. Heather hoped that Cindy had caught that little maneuver; she had warned the floor manager that the display was ripe for someone with quick fingers and an open purse.




One Old Fool



Glen took his time putting the earrings away; he was still deep in memory of his first time with Carmen Thibodaux.

(Sammy's treatment of Carmen had burned into her consciousness; his order that she not go over to Glen's house, like he owned her, and his manhandling her had decided her fate.

Glen kept reminding her that Sammy was with cheerleaders, older, college women.

After a few beers, after her anger at Sammy, after Glen's constant patter, Carmen had very little resistance left in her.

"You were a fucking virgin?" Glen yelled, outraged.

His mother was extremely proud of her velour couch; the blood would be very difficult to get out of the material.

"Oh my God!" Carmen gasped.

She had intended to go to her marriage bed a virgin. Sammy and she had experimented with oral sex; she didn't want to get the title 'prick tease,' but they had gone no further than that.)

"Nuh uh! Aw no, itch! Yes I do fucking mind you look in my purse!" Glen heard some woman screaming and looked up to see his customer trying to get away from Heather Lee.

"Real shame," Heather smiled. "Come with me, Honey."

The woman made a dash for the handicapped door, the door to the left of the revolving door.

Heather shook her head in amusement; she'd thrown the switch deactivating both sets of doors right before approaching the woman.

"Mr. Simone," Cindy snapped, drawing his attention away from the drama a few yards away.

"Yes?" he snapped back.

The woman hit the door with all of her might, only to be thrown backward when the door did not budge.

"How many individual items are you supposed to have out at one given time?" she barked.

"What?" Glen barked back, irritated with her attitude.

"I asked, how many individual pieces, how many individual earrings, or rings, or necklaces are you supposed to have out at a time?" Cindy asked.

"Three," Glen said and again turned to see Heather easily pin the customer on the floor.

"And how many did you have out?" Cindy pressed.

"I don't know; five, six Glen shrugged.

"Eight," Cindy corrected.

"If you already knew..." Glen snapped.

"And how many do you have now?" Cindy asked, busily writing.

"Eight," Glen snapped.

"Try six," Cindy snapped and slapped a reprimand slip in front of him. "Please sign this."

"I'm not signing..." Glen protested.

"Oh goody!" Cindy said no smile on her face. "Refusal to sign a written reprimand is grounds for dismissal."

Glen angrily scribbled his signature.

"That's two," Cindy said smugly as Heather dragged the loudly protesting woman toward the elevator.

"I'm sue all you mother fuckers, you hear me?" the woman screamed as the elevator doors shut.

(Carmen had turned up pregnant; a stern faced Mr. Thibodaux and a dour faced Mrs. Thibodaux sat in the Simone living room, on the camel colored velour couch. Glen did find some amusement in the fact that Mr. Thibodaux was sitting on his daughter's stain.  

His amusement faded as he realized they were talking about a wedding. Between himself and Carmen.

Glen had already moved on to Morgan Miller; a chunky girl with chunky tits and chunky ass. She believed all of his words of praise and also believed that there was no way she could get pregnant from anal sex.

"Well, actually, yeah you can," he had laughed. "Where do you think Republicans come from?"

"That's not funny!" she laughed, slapping his arm. "My dad's a Republican!"

Even as susceptible to empty praise as she was, Morgan Miller did not want to continue seeing Glen after his engagement to Carmen Thibodaux was announced.)

Tracy, Heather, and a short man came in, all three chattering and laughing.

"Bye, Sweetheart," Glen heard Tracy tell the short man and watched as she bent down to kiss him quickly, lovingly on his lips.

"Bye Sweetheart," Hillary mimicked Tracy and pretended that she was going to kiss the smiling man.

"Nuh uh, girlfriend; you best just keep away from my husband," Tracy mock-snarled.

"Uh huh," Hillary giggled and walked to her counter.

See you later," Glen heard the short man squeak.

"Thank you, Mrs. Scandurro," Hillary thanked Cindy for minding her department while she was out to lunch.

"No problem; so where'd y'all go eat?" Cindy smiled.

"Little wing place right there on nineteen; Tracy's husband Kevin? He works right around the corner from there so he took us," Hillary smiled. "Name of it is 'Best Wings in Bender,' even has a sign right out front says best wings in Bender. I've probably driven right past it like a million times and never seen it."

Tracy did not say anything to Glen; just clocked in and began looking for something to do.

"Oh, you sold those?" Tracy said, pointing to the vacant spaces in the earring display.

"No," Glen snapped, sure that Tracy had heard the news that the earrings were now in Heather's office.

"Oh," Tracy shrugged and got the keys for the display case.

She found another set of each earrings and put them into the display case, then locked both storage area and display case.

"Mrs. Mouton," Cindy greeted the woman, glad that she now remembered the woman's name.

"Yes ma'am?" Tracy asked, smiling politely.

"That was your husband?" Cindy asked.

"Yes," Tracy nearly gushed. "Kevin. We met in high school; well, actually, we've been in school together all our lives but we didn't start dating until high school. Actually...

She leaned closer to Cindy.

"Me and my friends, we played a mean trick on him," she confided.

Glen tried to edge closer but a glare from both Tracy and Cindy kept him on the other end of the counter.

"Anyway, he didn't take it lying down; he took all of our car keys and threw them into the lake; we all had to get our cars towed," Tracy giggled. "I knew, right then and there, he was the man for me."

She stood up straight and smiled happily.

"Five years later; I'm still just so crazy about him," Tracy said.

****

Tammy was upset about some bill or another; Glen had learned a long time ago how to shut out a woman's complaints. His mother had constantly complained, harping about this or that. Glen had never questioned why his father took off, never to return.

Glen just continued to eat the unappetizing stuff Tammy called dinner.

"Carmen knew how to cook, that's for sure," he thought to himself as he slowly chewed the rock hard vegetables.

(Carmen complained all the time; a trait, he was sure, she had inherited from her mother. His mother had complained all the time; when was he going to get a job? When was he going to start saving money? When was he going to help out around the house?)

Tracy's husband; she had called that little shrimp 'Sweetheart' and had told Hillary to stay away from her husband was a little guy. If he ever did object to Glen paying attention to his wife, it would be of no consequence.

(Courtney's boyfriend had not taken Glen's attention very lightly and had even threatened Glen in front of a fuming Courtney. This played in Glen's favor, though. Courtney was tired of her boyfriend's Neanderthal tactics. Glen's black eye had sealed the old boyfriend's fate.)

"Work my ass off all fucking day come home and find..." Tammy screeched on.

Unlike with Courtney, though, who needed to see that some men could be sensitive, nurturing, Tracy probably needed to see that some men could be real men.

He almost smiled, wondering if Tracy's itty bitty husband had an itty bitty cock as well. As amusing as that thought was, though, Tammy would not have been amused to see him smile. So, he kept his thoughts to himself and his face remained passive.

"Think you could try to..." Tammy went on.

(Cathy had needed a real man. The shrill woman was so used to making demands and getting her way. Her mother and her father just said 'yes dear' and gave her whatever she wanted. She needed to be shown that some men wouldn't 'yes dear' whenever she opened her mouth.

In fact, Glen had put her mouth to good use.

"I don't..." she had sputtered when he thrust his erection into her complaint box.

"Bite me and you won't have any teeth in that head of yours," Glen promised as he fucked her face.

Cathy again began making her demands the moment he pulled his softening cock out of her mouth. A sharp slap to her face stopped that.

"You..." she stammered, face a mask of shock. "You hit me!"

"Do it again you don't shut up," he promised.

She had planned for him to take her to the Oxford Tavern in Lafayette but sullenly agreed that Pete's did serve the best hamburgers.

She drank one, then five beers and was stumbling drunk by the time they left Pete's.

"You're MARRIED?" she had screamed when he told her why he couldn't take her back to his place.

Another sharp slap to her face, then a hard and fast fuck had silenced Cathy's complaints.

"Next time, you're giving up the ass," he promised.

There was no next time; Carmen agreed to the divorce and he left her, their daughters Elaine and Elise, and married Courtney.)

"And if you think I'll..." Tammy was still going strong.

Glen wondered briefly what would happen if he gave Tammy a much needed slap.

Glen had a moment of clarity, though. Tammy was not the type of woman to meekly take a slap. She would wait for her chance to administer pay-back and it would be very decisive pay-back. Tammy was not the type to get even; she would get beyond.

After a few beers, though, Tammy had calmed down enough for Glen to be able to apply his 'magic fingers' to her neck and shoulders, then her breasts.

"You think you can just fuck me and it's all good," Tammy had shrilled.

Chapter 2

Tracy smirked as Glen approached their section; Cindy had let it slip that Glen had not been as diligent and the same woman that had tried to steal from Tracy had managed to steal two sets of earrings from Glen.

Dempsey was rearranging the perfume display; Heather had complained to him twice about it, but had finally gotten the floor manager to agree. He looked over and also smirked at Glen.

"What?" Glen asked, checking himself for any stains on his tie or jacket.

Tracy didn't respond; just continued to flip through the inventory catalog.

"Look at the stuff on page fifty eight," Hillary said, standing in front of the case.

Tracy flipped forward and wrinkled up her nose.

"Believe that?" Hillary laughed. "They really think anyone's going to buy a CD player?"

"Or a record player?" Tracy asked, pointing out the phonograph.

"Actually, vinyl is making a come back," Glen offered.

"Uh, this is an A.B. conversation," Tracy said. "So um, why don't you C. your way out of it?"

Hillary did keep an eye on her section while managing to hold a conversation with her friend. Tracy continued to flip through the catalog and the two made observations on some of the offerings.

Dempsey, finished with his display, wandered over.

"Heard they also found all kind of make-up in that woman's purse," he weakly offered to Glen.

"Uh huh, and?" Glen rebuffed the young man.

"Well, wasn't just you and me got hit," Dempsey said.

"Did Mrs. Scandurro write you up?" Hillary asked.

"Nope; said she'd have to write herself up too," Dempsey smiled weakly.

"So, what's for lunch?" Hillary asked Tracy.

"Left-over pasta salad," Tracy said. "Kevin makes the best; his mom showed him how. He cuts up some chicken and there's all kind of olives and garlic and..."

"Quit," Hillary complained. "Have to knock you out and take it keep talking like that."

"Carmen? My first wife?" Glen said. "She used to make this real good chicken salad..."

"Never learned his ABCs," Tracy shook her head.

"First wife?" Hillary asked. "End in Divorce? Or suicide?"

"What about you? What you got for lunch?" Tracy asked.

"Kaitlin, my sister? Decided she's vegetarian; the root of all her troubles is all the meat she keeps stuffing in her. Couldn't be that she's just a stupid bitch, got to be anything but that; so my mom decided we're all vegan now. Got some tofu crap," Hillary made a face of disgust.

"Oh, them wings you were stuffing in your face yesterday are vegan now?" Tracy teased.

"Is in my book," Hillary smiled.

"Tell you what; we'll split mine," Tracy offered.

"No! That's not right!" Hillary protested.

Cindy Scandurro stepped off the elevator and almost laughed as the associates scattered like cockroaches. Hillary dashed for her counter and began to restack the cell phone boxes. Dempsey again lined up the perfume samplers on the counter. Olivia rearranged her lipstick display.

Tracy made eye contact with Cindy and smiled. Cindy nodded and smiled in return.

"You know, Ms. Monroe, we really don't mind a little fraternization among the associates, as long as you're not ignoring our customers," Cindy said to Hillary.

Hillary gave a guilty giggle and flashed a huge smile at Cindy.

"We also have that in red and beige," Jeanine offered as Cindy looked at a black pump.

"No, no, Sweetie," Cindy smiled.

She kicked herself mentally; this was another new hire and she could not remember the girl's name. 

"I'm just wondering how anyone can even walk in those things," Cindy went on, pointing out the five inch heels.

"You get used to them," Jeanine smiled, showing Cindy that she was wearing the black pumps. "My Momma's always like 'Jeanine! Really! Look like hooker shoes!' and I'm always like 'And how you know what hooker shoes look like, huh?'"

"And what does she say to that?" Cindy smiled, imagining herself having the same sort of conversation with her daughter.

(Her daughter, Alicia Dumas, was now thirty one years old, the mother of three, two boys and a girl, step mother to another girl and pregnant again, but she would always be Cindy's baby. Two nights earlier, she'd had an argument with Alicia about Alicia riding a Harley-Davidson chopper to school.

"Really, Alicia! You're a grown woman! And a school principal! Quit riding that dangerous thing!" Cindy had said.

"You said it, Mom," Alicia smiled. "I'm a grown woman.")

"She just throws her hands up, says 'Jeanine Annette Gremillion, if your father were here...'" Jeanine laughed.

"Thank you, Ms. Gremillion," Cindy smiled as a customer wandered into the shoe department.

"Told you," Heather said, popping up out of nowhere. "That perfume display was a shoplifter's magnet."

"Ms. Lee, no one likes a know-it-all," Cindy said, faking a glare at the red head.

"Uh huh," Heather smiled and waved as she disappeared behind a rack of men's suits.

"You know, those sapphire earrings would really look great on you; match your eyes," Glen suggested, moving Tracy's hair behind her left ear.

"Don't you EVER put your hands on me!" Tracy snapped, stepping away from him.

"Sorry!" he said, putting his hands up in defense.

He put the sapphire earrings back into the case, and then smiled at the young woman that leaned against the case to his left, looking at the women's watches. Her halter top gaped open and he had an unobstructed view of her left breast and a small brown nipple.

"I see that one? The black one?" the young girl asked, pointing.

"Ah, yes ma'am, the Cross?" Glen asked, unlocking the case.

"No, the watch," the girl said, face twisted in confusion.

"No ma'am, Cross is who makes it," Glen smiled and pulled it out.

"Oh," the woman said.

Her eyes flickered slightly at the four hundred and twenty nine dollar price tag and Glen smiled tightly. That flicker told him that she couldn't afford the watch.

"Y'all got layaway?" the girl asked.

"Yes ma'am, we do," Glen's smile tightened.

He disliked layaway purchases; instead of one big commission of six percent of the total, he would only get six percent of each payment, which hardly amounted to anything on each paycheck.

"How much I got to put down?" the girl asked.

"Twenty percent, but you can put more if you like," Glen intoned, already looking at an older woman that was looking at the brooches.

He again had an urge to throw his keys at Tracy as the attractive associate approached the older woman.

"Twenty percent of four..." the woman mumbled out loud.

"Eighty five eighty," Glen said harshly.

He watched as Tracy pulled out two of the diamond encrusted brooches and watched as the customer's eyes brightened.

"Both of them?" Tracy asked, a little surprised.

"They're gifts," the woman explained.

"Yes ma'am," Tracy said and took the woman's American Express card.

She rang the purchase up, and then showed the woman the receipt.

"You take this up to the second floor? Show them the receipt and they'll gift wrap them for you," Tracy suggested. "It's free."

"Oh well thank you!" the woman said, pleased.

"No thanks," the girl said, angered by Glen's snappish behavior.

Glen, having come to the conclusion that Tracy was quite accustomed to men fawning over her looks, decided to try a different tactic.

"Good job; smart of you telling her to take those brooches upstairs," Glen complimented Tracy.

She didn't answer him; she was still upset at his touching her.

"That way, she'll probably see other things she'll want," Glen continued.

Tracy put two more brooches into the case and locked both storage and display cases.

"You um, you plan on leaving that watch out all day?" she snapped.

"Two more I-phones, um, six percent of..." Hillary crowed.

"Ooh, Eileen's going to be so jealous!" Tracy congratulated her friend.

"Mr. Glen?" Tracy asked.

"Yes?" he smiled.

"Okay if I go to lunch now?" Tracy asked as Hillary paged for the floor manager.

"Sure, sure," he said, locking the watch back in the case.

Again he watched their tight asses walk away, and then looked over to Cindy Scandurro as she busied herself with the electronics display. He smirked as Cindy struggled to avoid eye contact with him.

(Janice Dayton had very easily fallen for compliments and had very willingly spread her pudgy thighs for Glen. Her twin sister had shrugged off his compliments, until he started telling her how smart she was.

Having the two of them together had been great. They would not touch each other, but they both readily touched him. Then Janice's boyfriend had walked in.

"You God damned whore," he had spat at the now crying Janice.

He pulled an engagement ring out of his jeans pocket.

"Was going to fucking ask you to marry me, fuck if that will ever happen now," he spat and left.

Jeanette let Glen fuck her a few times afterward, but Janice never did. Then Janice cornered him at Early's grocery store, with Carmen, Elaine, and Elise right next to him, and loudly announced that she was pregnant.

"And?" he had asked the pudgy woman. "Give your boyfriend a call and tell him the good news.")

The young woman that had looked at the watch passed by and Glen admired her tight shorts as she strolled past.

"Fuck Tammy and her cheap ass lunches," Glen thought. "I'm going to Dead End for lunch."

"And he'd really like a baby, says he don't care if it's a boy or girl, but I know he really wants a little girl; God! You ought to see the way he gets all choked up when we're talking about possible girl names," Tracy was chattering as she and Hillary walked back to their counters.

"Well, maybe next month, huh?" Hillary said, smiling sympathetically.

"Yeah, started crying like a baby when my period started," Tracy agreed. "God! I was so sure we'd..."

Tracy realized Glen was listening and clammed up.

"Oh, I've always liked the name Hillary," Hillary joked.

"Uh huh, I'm so sure," Tracy smiled and let herself into the sales area.

She clocked in, and then busied herself with checking the Omega watch inventory against what was on display.

"So, um, having a little trouble um, conceiving?" Glen asked.

"Like that is ANY of your business," Tracy snapped.

"Husband shooting blanks?" Glen smugly asked.




One Old Fool



"Husband's shooting fine," Tracy said, sliding down to the next display case. "Thank you very little."

"You know, I've got five or six kids out there," Glen bragged.

"Five or six? Don't know?" Tracy sneered.

"Might be more," Glen bragged.

"I can understand that," Tracy nodded.

"Yeah?" Glen asked, amazed.

"Finally!" he thought to himself. "Finally getting through to her!"

"Yeah, I wouldn't want anyone knowing you're the father either," she said and began inventorying the Cartier watches.

Glen left for lunch a moment later, not telling Tracy he was leaving.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" Tracy asked the girl that had walked away from Glen.

"Yeah, I guess I really do want that watch," the girl said, pointing.

"Ah yes, the Cross? Those are very nice," Tracy complimented. "But have you looked over here, at the Seikos? There's a black one that's only three eighty nine; you might like that..."

"Now why that guy didn't say nothing about this one?" the girl asked, admiring the black watch.

"Because he's never done his inventory and wouldn't have a clue what's in his own cases," Cindy thought as she walked past.

"You were asking about the layaway?" Tracy asked, already reaching for the pad.

"Yeah, I got to put down twenty percent, right?" the girl asked.

"Yes ma'am; you can put more if you'd like, but twenty percent is the minimum and there is a two dollar holding fee," Tracy explained, showing the girl the paperwork for the layaway plan.

The girl puzzled over the amount to put down and Tracy got out a calculator and let the girl figure it out for herself, at her leisure.

"Thank you, ma'am," the girl smiled as she put her layaway voucher into her purse.

"No ma'am, thank you," Tracy smiled, putting the ticket onto a sealed box.

"Mrs. Mouton, good job," Cindy complimented.

"Oh? Okay, thanks," Tracy shrugged.

Cindy smiled as Heather popped up, winked, and then disappeared into a side door.

****

Eighty dollars poorer, Glen walked to the jewelry counter and again spritzed some breath spray into his mouth. He'd had two beers with his lunch, hardly enough to get anyone drunk, but last thing he needed was anyone bitching about smelling alcohol on him.

Tracy was bent at the waist, resting her elbows on the counter. Glen felt his cock twitch at the thought of stepping up behind her and sliding his cock into her tight anal passage.

"By the way, think I saw your husband out there; what's his name?" Glen said as he clocked in at the cash register.

"Kevin," Tracy said, perking up slightly. "Kevin Mouton; Why? Where'd you see him?"

"Real short guy, brown hair?" Glen asked, holding his hand at about waist level.

"He's not that short," Tracy defended.

"Sweetie, yeah he is," Glen smirked.

"He's five foot three," Tracy snapped walking away as far as the counter would let her.

"Five foot three?" Glen wanted to scoff, but didn't.

"So, where'd you see him?" Tracy asked, nearly twenty minutes later.

"Huh? See who?" Glen asked, snapping out of his reverie.

He had been thinking of Tammy's sister, Shelley. Tammy had been fun at first, but the bloom was long gone from that rose. He had actually been thinking of leaving when Shelley stopped by for a visit with her big sister.

She was a lot heavier than he liked them but her impressive breasts made up for that, as did her sweet, gullible nature.

Glen also liked the fact that Shelly had a pussy-whipped boyfriend totally devoted to her.

Shelley had very nearly gone for it; he had played all of the cards just right. Complimenting her for her looks, her brains, insulting and demeaning her boyfriend, to his face and behind his back. Planting the seeds of doubt in her mind, promising her a better future.

Shelly had begun to come over to his side of the court. Shelley began to second guess her boyfriend's fidelity. She began to lose any respect for the hapless Brian Edwards. Glen had even coerced Shelley into shaving her pussy; Brian had a hair fetish, loved for Shelley to sport a full, luxurious bush.

"Maybe I should just go all out for Shelley," Glen thought to himself. "Maybe wouldn't be so fucking miserable as I am now."

"Kevin, my husband," Tracy reminded him. "You said you saw him."

"Oh, oh! Oh yeah! Went to the Dead End for lunch; special of the day's their stuffed pork chops, damned good stuff and there's this midget, got his face as close to the dancer's crotch as he can get it without the manager throwing his ass out of there and I'm like 'damn, that midget looks kind of familiar' and when I got back here, I remembered that you're married to a little bitty guy," Glen lied.

Glen was lying; Kevin had not been in the Dead End. But he knew if Tracy did ask him and he denied it, Kevin would look like a liar. Any seed of doubt could be watered, and over time would mushroom into a real weed of mistrust.

Tracy's eyes flashed with anger; her Kevin wasn't a midget. Especially where it counted.

"So, what's he doing for a living?" Glen smirked. "Jockey?"

"He's a chemical engineer with Pilot," Tracy snapped. "That's why we moved here from Baylor Lake."

"Baylor Lake, huh?" Glen laughed. "You mean, Baylor Lake, where everyone's relative? Where they have only one last name in the phone book? Where pumpkin is not only the favorite vegetable, BUT the favorite past time?"

He looked on in stunned silence as she ran from the jewelry counter in tears.

Heather Lee popped up in front of him.

"Got any more fun things to say about Baylor Lake?" she asked, green eyes glazing into his blue eyes.

Heather pulled out a cell phone, punched in a few numbers and suddenly Glen heard her voice echo out of the recessed speakers that usually piped in classical music.

"Floor manager to jewelry counters, please," Heather spoke slowly, clearly. "Floor manager to jewelry counters, please."

"Problem?" Cindy asked, striding rapidly.

Heather pulled her to the side, out of the aisle and whispered urgently to Cindy.

Glen began to walk over, but Heather held up a hand, prompting him to stay where he was.

"Where is she now?" Cindy asked punching in a phone number into her own cell phone.

"Restroom, behind men's suits," Heather responded.

"Mr. Simone, my office, NOW," Cindy ordered.

There'll be no one to..." Glen protested then stopped speaking as Mark George; one of the two 'floater' associates of Abdul's nodded curtly, stepped behind the counter, and entered his associate code into the cash register.

"I'll go get her," Heather said and scampered toward the men's department.

"Hi Mark," Hillary smiled at the handsome young man.

"How many of them Smart Phones you sold today?" Mark smiled.

He loved to tease her about the fact that, once when he covered her department for her while she was on lunch break, he had should three smart phones, and two warranties for the phones.

"Oh, I quit counting after fifty," she shrugged and smiled widely.

"You are so full of it!" he laughed.

Chapter 3

Glen sat, stunned, as Heather slapped down complaint after complaint levied against him.

"You really think it was appropriate to ask April Leblanc if she'd ever had anal sex." James Hebert interrupted Heather's discourse.

"I..." Glen offered weakly.

"Ms. Leblanc did admit that she may have inadvertently started that conversation," Cindy said.

Glen smiled inwardly; he knew she was attracted to him. He nodded his thanks to her; she avoided looking at him.

Heather looked around, satisfied that the others were done with their conversations, and then again continued her testimony.

"Did you really?" James asked when Heather testified to Glen's inappropriate comments to a pregnant customer.

"Breast feeding is..." Glen weakly said.

"A private matter," Cindy snapped.

Glen's eyes went to the woman's chest. Her breasts were medium sized and showed a healthy amount of sag. He was sure that Cindy had breast fed her children.

"So is whether or not the woman has pierced nipples," Heather continued.

"She was..." Glen stammered.

"All of this?" James said, sweeping his hand along the desk toward Heather's note pad. "You can smooth-talk your way out of. I know you. You'll be able to come up with one excuse or another."

"And since no one did file any complaints," Heather said.

"At least, not with us," James said to the bone thin red head.

"Right," Heather admitted.

"No telling how many customers we've lost, though," Cindy offered.

"And I've had a few talks with you about this kind of stuff," James said, again looking at Glen.

Glen thought back to one of their 'talks.' The talk had started off in a serious tone; James was concerned about an overheard comment regarding Hillary Monroe's oral skills.

The conversation had ended, however, with both men agreeing that a blow job from Hillary Monroe would most likely be spectacular. They had also speculated, between themselves, on whether or not Hillary's carpet matched the drapes.

Glen declined to bring up that point now, though.

Heather slapped her notepad shut and glared at Glen.

Mark George had once confided in Glen that he thought Heather Lee was one of the most attractive women he'd ever laid eyes on. The young man exuded confidence, was quite intelligent and charming, but was a tongue tied idiot around the red headed security person.

Glen had thought briefly of seducing the woman, just to rub Mark's face in it; he'd overheard more than one female associate of Abdul's drooling over Mark George.

"Would be like fucking a fence board," he thought, looking at the woman's barely perceptible bumps and lumps.

"Please, just give me the fucking paper, sign the damned thing and we can all just get back to work," Glen wanted to say, but bit his tongue.

Tracy was given her turn, and with barely a sniffle or hiccough to her voice, began telling of the constant thinly veiled innuendoes, sexual comments, and suggestive remarks he'd made to her over the few weeks that she'd been working at Abdul's.

"Now, how in the fuck I'm supposed to know your fucking old man raped you, huh?" Glen thought to himself as Tracy recounted the incident of thirty minutes earlier and why it had affected her so greatly.

Tracy was sobbing now so a lull had descended over the five people.

"Fuck, probably parading around in nothing but your fucking panties," Glen thought to himself. "Bending over, putting your ass in his face, daring him to do anything."

Dianne Waterson had three girls living under her roof. She had five altogether, but two of them were out of the house by the time Glen had met her.

The three that remained were constantly parading and prancing around in various stages of undress.

"What are you doing?" Amber had giggled when he reached around and grabbed her pudgy breasts.

"If you have to ask, I'm doing it wrong," Glen said. 

"You are," Dawn said. "You're supposed to be grabbing Mom's tits, not ours."

That didn't stop them from wiggling and waggling their asses at him, and it didn't stop Amber from fucking and sucking him. Dawn kept threatening to tell their mother, but Glen just shrugged.

"Probably teased the fuck out of him, and then got all freaked out when he finally had enough," Glen thought as Tracy finished her tale of woe.

Glen resisted the urge to applaud Tracy's performance. Three sets of eyes looked at him. He wondered what the appropriate response was, wondered what words he could offer that would smooth over the incident.

Cindy started talking; his long silence obviously longer than she could bear. He did not listen; she was unimportant.

"I agree," James said tiredly.

"Okay, so now we can all get the fuck out of here?" Glen thought to himself.

"Turn in your name badge, get your stuff out of your locker, Mr. Simone," James Hebert said, standing. "You can pick up your final check here tomorrow."

"Wait, what?" Glen asked, mouth open in shock.

"You've created a hostile working environment, Glen," James snapped. "Last fucking thing I need is someone suing us over your shit."

"Come on; I'll help you," Heather snapped, getting to her feet.

He dug out the few items and rankled when Heather made him empty out his lunch bag in front of her.

"Why didn't you eat your lunch?" she asked, satisfied that his lunch bag did indeed contain lunch.

"Went to the Dead End instead," Glen snapped, handing over his name badge. "You Might have heard about it; you know, where the women actually have tits?"

"Uh huh; my sister Darlene's one of the dancers there," Heather smiled sweetly.

He used the walkway to go to the third floor of the parking deck, where the employees parked.

"Hi Ass hole," he heard someone say as he unlocked his car door.

Chapter 4

"Give him room; Glen?" Heather said.

Glen looked up at the bone tine red head's face. Behind her head he could see a large globe of one the parking garage's lights. He realized he was lying on the greasy, grimy floor of the garage.

"Glen, how many fingers is I holding up?" Heather asked.

"What the fuck... Who cares how many fingers you got up, you fucking ugly ass skank?" Glen spat, trying to rise from the dirty floor before he got his suit dirty.

"Judging from that answer, I'd say you're fine," Heather smiled tightly. "But I still want to get you checked out. Ambulance is on the way."

"You go to pay for that?" Glen spat, frowning at the small crowd of on-lookers.

Again he tried to get up but a searing, shooting pain in his head made him gasp out loud.

"Yeah, whoever did this got you pretty good," Heather smiled.

"Don't need to be so fucking happy about it, stupid cunt," Glen snapped.

"Uh huh," Heather smiled, infuriating him.

An ambulance roared up. The two paramedics got out, did an examination of him, agreed that it would be best to bring him to University Medical Center in Lafayette.

"I have insurance," he snapped angrily at the two EMTs as they lifted him onto the gurney.

"Possible head trauma?" one of the men said to him. "You're not going to find any better than U.M.C. deal with that."

He lapsed into unconsciousness on the way to the hospital and when he came to again, Tammy was sitting next to his bed.

"Hey," he croaked out.

"Hi," she said flatly.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Um," she said, squinting at her watch. "Looks like nine thirty."

"At night?" he asked.

"No, Glen, nine thirty in the morning," Tammy said tiredly.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"Thank you for...?" she prompted.

"For coming here, for..." Glen said.

"Uh huh, well, now that we know you're not going to die, I won't be coming back," Tammy said and got to her feet.

"Wait, what? Why not?" Glen asked.

"Shelley told me, Glen," Tammy snapped. "All right? Shelley told me. That's why."

"Shelley told you what?" Glen asked.

"Oh, so now you got you some amnesia?" Tammy snapped. "Let me refresh your memory, mother fucker. Been trying to get into her pants for months now. This ringing any bells with you? While I'm busting my ass, trying to keep the roof over our heads, you're just running around trying to fuck my baby sister?"

Glen looked at her. He did not try to deny it; he did not try to make excuses.

"And them, I find out you got fired. Again. From another job. Because you're a loser," Tammy shrilled.

"Ma'am!" a nurse hissed, opening the door. "This is a hospital!"

"Sorry, won't happen again," Tammy said, stepping to the door.

"Fired, for trying to get into yet another woman's pants," Tammy said. "Well, good luck Glen. Hope she'll put up with your ass because I sure as fuck won't. Not any more, that's for sure."

Two police officers from the DeGarde police department came and interviewed him. All he remembered of the attack was someone called him 'ass hole' and then intense, blinding pain.

Brian Edwards had smiled when asked if he knew anything about the attack; Tammy had told the police officers that Glen had tried seducing Shelley, Brian's girlfriend.

"Wasn't me, but you tell that man, I'll buy him dinner at Radcliffe's," Brian had said.

"How you know it was a man?" James Kowalski asked.

"Okay, her then," Brian had laughed. "God! That would be truly fucking beautiful, huh? A fucking woman beating the shit out of him?"

Kevin Mouton was truly baffled about why the police would question him about a man he had never met. True, he knew who Glen Simone was; he had been the manager of the jewelry counter where his wife worked, but he had no reason to attack the man.

Two days later, Glen was discharged from the hospital.

Outside, it was a beautiful spring day. The sun was warm on the skin, but a gentle breeze blew the humidity away. Bright blue skies with a few fluffy clouds greeted Glen as he stepped outside, dressed once again in his dirty suit.

He stood, unsure of what to do. He had no money for a taxicab, certainly not the forty three dollars it would cost to ride a cab from Lafayette to DeGarde.

He had his last paycheck from Abdul's waiting for him but he wasn't about to waste half of it on a cab fare. Especially now that he was, for all intents and purposes, homeless.

He had no one to call, and even if he did, Tammy had cancelled his cell phone.

Tammy wasn't going to take any calls from him.  Shelley certainly wasn't going to take any calls from him. Paula, the dancer he'd blown eighty dollars on had not given him her phone number. Tracy did not even enter his mind.

There was a bus stop bench near the entrance to the hospital; Glen wearily walked over and sat down on the sticky bench.

A bus came and let out a few people. When the bus driver saw that Glen made no attempt to stand, he shrugged and closed the door of the bus.

The same bus driver came by two more times and still Glen just sat.

"Buddy, you okay?" a security guard asked.

Glen looked up and realized it was now late in the afternoon; the sun was almost directly in his eyes.

"Buddy, you okay?" the guard asked again.

Glen looked around. He then looked up into the guard's face, squinting against the sunlight.

"You got anywhere to go?" the guard asked.

"No," Glen admitted.

"Friends? Family? No one?" the guard asked, pulling out his walkie-talkie.

Glen did not answer.

His sons, Glen Jr. and Robert at seventeen and six, weren't old enough to take him in. His daughter Elaine, he remembered, had married a doctor. He brightened slightly at that thought, and then remembered, she'd been killed a few years ago. His other daughter, Elise, as best he could remember, was still living at home with his ex-wife Carmen.

And the lat time Glen had seen her, she was hostile toward him.

"So, Father," she had sneered. "When's my birthday?"

Of course he wouldn't know her birthday; it was just another day to him.

"Tell you what; how about how old I am? Can you tell me that?" she pressed.

He couldn't answer her; he knew she had to be about twenty three or twenty four, but wasn't sure. Elise had shaken her head in disgust and walked away.

"No," Glen murmured as the guard talked into the device. "No friends or family."

The End.

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure. I post them here for your enjoyment.

***Author's Note: Glen Simone is a character from the 'The Broussard Sisters' series. Tracy Mouton and Kevin Mouton are characters from 'Kevin's Torment.' Cindy Scandurro is a character from the 'Breaking the Family' and 'Ice Heart' series. Heather Lee is a character from the "Oddball' series. (She is mentioned once in 'Oddball 2' and 'Oddball 7a.') Hillary Monroe is a character from the 'Flowers in the Heart' series. James Kowalski is a character from the 'Oddball' and 'Dee & The Twins' series.

Thank you for reading my stories.



One Old Man and a Barmaid



I spotted her the instant my eyes adjusted to the dark smoke filled room. She was about 5' 2", not what anyone would call a raving beauty.

She was dressed rather oddly, I thought. She had on a sleeveless sweater that was open at the front in a deep "V" shape to about where her navel would be, with a T-shirt on underneath.

At first glance I thought that the sweater was all she had on up top, I have seen women dressed like that in bars before. But she didn't fit that mold, as I looked more closely I saw quite a few stray hairs attempting to escape from her poor attempts to tie it back, plus the beginnings of a ponytail in the back.

Her face was round and innocent looking, her bust and hips were very slender.

Rounding out the picture was a dark pleated skirt that came to just above her knees.

It was rather obvious she was not going to set any standards for fashion.

There were perhaps a half dozen patrons in the place, it was a Thursday afternoon in a mill town, and I knew that it would be another two hours before the crews getting off work would turn the bar to mayhem.

I was very familiar with the place, it had been my 2nd home back when I worked in that same mill nearly 35 years earlier. 

Most of my time was spent upstairs, there was a standard fare restaurant up there run by an old lady that fit right in with the men. I normally walked in the door at 10 minutes after 7, after finishing my graveyard shift.

"Keep yer goddamned shirt on, you got enough fat on you that you ain't gonna starve in the next 10 minutes!" She would yell out at some poor sap that wasn't used to her and wanted to know where his breakfast was. We could see right into the kitchen, the woman was almost a blur in there, plates with meat and eggs, piles of golden hash browns seemed to just appear in her hands and rattle up onto the counter.

The cute waitress always made sure that each and every one of us knew she liked us the very best, too.

Weekends we ended up downstairs in the bar, usually by midnight we were drunk and the fights would start. I knew all about that part, I was the guy up on stage playing lead guitar and doing my very best impression of Creedence Clearwater.

Lord did I get laid a lot, and there were quite a few housewives mixed into that bunch too.

Of course that meant I got to be in some of the fights.

I had stopped upstairs for a bite to eat, they still served breakfast at one PM in the afternoon. I always was partial to breakfast anyway. I had noticed there was an old lady in the kitchen, and a chubby cute little blonde brought me some coffee, doing her best to get me into a conversation. I sat there at the counter sipping my coffee and eating, looking around.

The same old photos hung on the walls, the place had been painted but the same color.

Even the stools were still 3 inches too high and the vinyl cracked on half of them, it was almost like I had never left.

The big difference was back then I was in my twenties, six feet tall and 150 pounds, now I was still six feet tall but I was 240. That and now I was in my middle sixties.

I tipped the waitress a couple bucks more than enough, getting a huge smile from her, then I headed down the stairs. The transition from the bright lights upstairs to the darkened bar took me a few moments.

I looked the gal behind the bar over, walked over and sat down.

"Like a drink?" She asked, her face breaking into a smile.

"No, I don't drink." I told her, wanting one desperately. "A cup of coffee will do."

"OK. Be right back." She went upstairs and was back in moments with a steaming mug. Then she drifted down the bar to where an older heavyset woman sat, nursing a midday drink.

I glanced around the room, nothing much had changed except the stage was gone and there was a row of video poker machines by one wall. There was a booth where I used to stand pretending to sing and play. The usual country music filled the air. The missing stage was the only thing I could see that was different about the place.

Well, that and the gambling machines.

Like so many mill towns, the only things that ever seem to change much are the faces.

Bored, I wandered over to the row of video poker machines, stuffed in a twenty and idly hit the buttons. Like always, that was gone quickly and I stuffed in another, then another. I finally hit one of those free spin things, it racked up points to just over $140, I tapped the collect button. $140 back for $200 in, not bad, I thought, grinning to myself.

Just then I heard a cell phone ring. The young woman at the counter answered it. I wasn't trying to listen but there was no way to miss what she said.

"So when are you coming to see him, you know he loves you." She told whoever was on the other end.

"That's what you said the last time and the time before, just empty promises, that's all you do."

"Yes, I will pick him up at Mom's, she called and said you never showed up."

There was a long quiet stretch as she listened, I stuffed another twenty into the machine, not wanting to bother her just then.

"Damn you, just damn you! I have to pay the rent by Saturday, you had better bring it by!" Then she hung up. I glanced over at her, she was wiping a tear. She saw me looking and flushed.

I finished off the twenty with no success, got up and went to sit at the bar. She took the ticket and cashed it out, counted out the $140.75.

"Sorry you heard that." She told me with a small smile.

"No problem. How many kids do you have?"

"Two. Billy is 4 and Sara is 2, they are good kids. I don't know what I would do without my Mom, she watches them so I can work."

I nodded, asked her for another cup of coffee. She hustled up the stairs to get it for me. I finished it off, picked up my winnings and started to put it in my money clip.

The young woman was serving some drinks to the couple sitting at the poker machines. On impulse, I peeled off two $100 bills and folded them, slipping them under the coffee cup.

Then I got up and left.

Money didn't mean much to me anymore. After I had been drafted into the military I never went back to my job at the mill, I could have but I hated the place. Instead, I went on out into the world, knowing there had to be something for me.

I found it, too. Over the years I built a business, got married. We had a son, now grown, he married and they gave me two beautiful grandaughters. I didn't think much of my son's wife, for one thing she smoked dope constantly when they were dating and never outgrew it.

I remember one day I bought a fancy new Corvette, I had always wanted one and I happened to be at the dealership for something else and spotted it. I bought the machine on impulse, and my daughter threw a total fit when she saw it.

She was enraged that I would be wasting my grandaughter's inheritance, she told me that word for word. I knew what she really meant, she was thinking of herself. I had always noticed that about her, but my son loved her so I tolerated it.

I climbed in the car that day and drove home saddened, I would have spun the tires because she pissed me off, but it had that traction control and wouldn't.

I was calmed down by the time I got home. I did call my lawyer and change things, though. All of my assets were to go into a family trust, it would pay out just 50% of earnings each year directly to my son and my grandaughters. The rest would be reinvested, the trust administrator was to be paid no more than 20% of earnings and could not be a family member. Everything would be sold and placed in deposit accounts, no other investments allowed.

Would that work? I really didn't know, but it was the best I could come up with. Things happen with trusts, I knew that.

After I left the bar that day I got into my truck and headed home to the ranch I had purchased. It was directly across the valley from the place I grew up at. I would have bought that place but it wasn't for sale, so I got as close as I could, I could see home out my living room window.

I had sold out my business, money was no issue for me. I kept a few of the exclusives I owned, got nice royalties on those, too.

My wife Dotty had developed breast cancer and died several years earlier, lord did she go fast. That was a bad time, I really did love that woman. I was completely faithful to her too and would bet everything I own that she was the same..

Now I was just an old man and all alone. I did see my son and the grandkids at Christmas for a few hours, and sometimes in the Summer for a day or so. Other than that, it was just me most of the time.

Then when my back started itching way too much around the back of my ribs, I finally gave in and went to see the local Doctor. He sent me to a clinic, they checked me out pretty good. They were really curious about the row of round scars up the right side of my chest, with matching well healed injuries out the back.

That had been my ticket home from an ugly war. They had been packed with the mud we lay in as rounds came in from seemingly all directions. How did I survive?

I have no clue.

The old Doc assigned to me gave me two choices, fight like hell and probably be very sick and die in six months to a year, or go have some fun and die in six months to a year, probably rather suddenly.

I laughed at the old Doc, chose the latter.

"Well, that's what I would do." He told me, patting my shoulder.

So that is why I walked down the steps into that old bar, the place I had come from. All I really wanted to do was have some memories.

A couple of days after I had seen the young woman and left her a couple of hundred bucks tip for some coffee, I found myself heading back there.

I was just in the mood to waste some more of my daughter's inheritance, even though I thought I had it fixed so she wouldn't get it. But first I stopped upstairs, had the old woman make me a nice bowl of oatmeal with Cinnamon. The nutritionist they sent me to told me oatmeal was good for me, besides I liked it, especially with Cinnamon. 

I did notice the cute chubby blonde waitress was very attentive, I saw her and the old lady whispering to each other in the back. I tipped her a couple of bucks and went downstairs.

It was still pretty early, I didn't expect the gal to be there and she wasn't. There was a guy tending bar, he seemed mildly miffed when I ordered just coffee but he went and got it for me.

I sat there for an hour or so shoving twenties into the poker machines. They were doing their job nicely, supporting the State.

I really didn't care much. I was just finishing my second cup of coffee and getting ready to ask for a refill when one appeared at my shoulder.

It was her.

"Hi. I just wanted to say thank you, you saved me."

"Saved you from what?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"We were going to get kicked out of our apartment, you knew that, didn't you?" She sat down on the stool beside me.

"Yes, I overheard your conversation."

She nodded.

"I thought so, Bill won't...he is being difficult, he is supposed to pay child support but he won't."

"Are your kids OK, though?"

"Yea, my Mom has them, I go on shift here in a few minutes. Are you going to stick around?"

"Maybe for a little while, but then I should head home."

"Can I maybe buy you dinner? I get off work at 9 tonight."

"Sure, that sounds nice, but let me pay, I can afford it." I don't know why I agreed, I just did. This woman was maybe 25-26 years old, I was 65. It sure wasn't a romance thing, that was for sure.

"OK, then." She got up and went behind the bar.

"Hey, I am Kathy!" She called out loud enough that everyone could hear.

"I'm Dan." I answered, laughing. I saw some eyebrows raise but ignored that.

Then things started looking up, I hit one of the bonus things that gave me 27 free spins, racking up points. I hit the collect button, cashed out my $240.00.

Kathy handed me the money, I left her a couple of bucks since I didn't want her to think I was trying to buy her favors, I wasn't.

I was back at 9, I brought my Corvette. What the heck, it makes me feel younger. She climbed in with a big smile.

"I never rode in one of these before." she said.

I looked her over, her hair was brushed out and flowed down to her shoulders, she had on a simple nice white blouse and slacks, and a warm wrap.

We drove to a nice steak house in a nearby coastal city, had a nice dinner. She told me about her marriage and how her husband had been cheating with a friend of hers. She also told me that he had showed up with a check, something about pay up or go to jail.

We chatted late into the evening, it was after 2 AM when I dropped her off at her apartment. She thanked me, leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek and went inside.

Then came the weekend, Kathy and I went and took a stroll on the beach with her kids. It was unseasonably warm out. Her two kids tore up and down the beach with us as we walked along talking, they inspected everything they saw.

It was another nice time. Then I had a couple of days of down time, resting at home. There was some coughing spells, but finally I woke up and felt normal again. I drove in and got some more of that oatmeal, then went down to the bar.

Kathy was there, she looked nice with her hair down. I had complimented her on that, she had taken the hint. She really wasn't a bad looking woman when she made an effort. There was even a trace of makeup, I was almost sure of that, anyway.

I sat down and she ran upstairs to get my coffee. I sat and fiddled with the machines, finally hitting one of those Royal Flush things that paid $600. Several people patted me on the back like I had really done something. It cost me a grand to do it.

I was collecting the ticket when Kathy looked up and her face fell. I glanced over my shoulder and a bit on the heavy side guy stood there, looking angry.

"Bill, you aren't supposed to be in here when I am working." Kathy said.

"I don't give a shit! I just came in to see which old guy they tell me you have been fucking!" He glared at me, a look of suspicion on his face.

I just looked at him, slipped the money into my clip. Then I turned slightly his way.

"I'm not. Besides, it's none of your business, we are divorced."

"Yea, well, when I find out I will kick his ass."

"Son, you had best leave." I told him calmly.

"So it is you, asshole?" He turned to me. I just sat there on my stool.

"Well?" He demanded, leaning towards me. This guy was a real piece of work. His hands came up, clenched, so I snapped out one leg and kicked him right in the balls. He bent over with a whoosh of air, I slapped him across the face with a backhand.

That did it and he went down, good thing too because I knew if I had to get off my stool I might last 60 seconds.

A couple of regulars came over and more or less carried him up the stairs to the street exit. They were gone quite awhile, I don't know what happened or what was said but he didn't come back in.

"I'm sorry, Dan." Kathy told me.

"Not your fault, honey." She smiled and went back to work. I was just getting ready to go home when she came back up to me.

"I would like to, you know." She flashed me a huge grin.

"Like to what....oh!" I blinked at her a couple of times.

"I can drive out to your house after work...if you want me to."

"OK." I smiled at her, got up and went home. I hustled around the house cleaning up all of the mess a man living alone can make. At 9:30 I heard her ratty little volkswagon in the driveway.

I answered her soft knock, she looked radiant. She had changed, she had on a nice skirt and blouse in a soft matching blue.

I had to ask. I knew why she was here, she had made that obvious.

"Why would a pretty young lady like you be interested in and old guy like me?" I asked her.

"I am sick and tired of the young guys, all they do is take. You are a good man, a real man, so here I am."

I reached out and took her into my arms, kissed her. It was our first real kiss. She responded quickly, her breathing changed and mine did too.

We sat down on my couch, still kissing. I reached up and gently stroked her breast, it was small but firm, she had no bra on. I began to undo the buttons, then slid the blouse off, laying it carefully over the back of my couch. Her breasts were shaped a bit like tangerines, small and round, with pink nipples.

Kathy reached up and undid the buttons on my shirt, stripping it back and off of me. She folded it and placed it beside hers on the back of the couch.

I grinned to myself at that, she probably thought I was very neat. My house looked neat anyway. At least right at the moment.

It had been a very long time since I had sex of any kind, I had lost some of my virility too. But this was exciting, all six inches of me was up and raring to go, and showing no signs of wilting, either. Kathy stood up and slipped her skirt down her hips, then she hooked her thumbs in her pair of plain white panties, slid those down and stepped out of them.

Her hips were slim, her stomach flat, there was a bulging deep "V" reaching down to her crotch. She had a full natural bush, but was blessed with prominent lips. For a small woman that had two children, there wasn't a single mark that I could see.

She hiked up one leg and set it over me, sitting on me as she reached down to undo my belt and zipper. Sliding her hands down into my briefs, she let out a quiet, "Oh, my!" and began to fondle me. I pulled her to me, letting my bare chest mash against her pretty breasts.

Then I stood up and picked up her slight weight, carried her into my bedroom. That was a little bit of a struggle because my pants were sliding down. We started giggling, so I set her down for a moment and tugged my pants up. Then I picked her up again. She clasped her hands behind my neck, turned her face into my chest and kissed me. 

I pulled the covers back, lay her on the crisp and cool sheets I had just made the bed with. Then I stood up and stripped off my pants and jockeys.

I stood there looking at her firm young body, so beautiful in the dim light.

"Hurry up!" She said, opening her legs. I lay across her, supporting myself with my arms as she reached down and placed me into position. I thrust and we were joined. Her hips instantly became active, eager, she pressed upwards meeting my every motion.

I would like to say I lasted a long time, I didn't. But Kathy didn't, either. What was wonderful was the fact that after an hour's rest, I managed a second time, much longer.

Then we cuddled and basked in each other, her fingers traced the scars on my chest but she didn't say anything.

She was in my arms when I woke up the next morning. We showered together, soaping each other up and rinsing off, giggling and laughing like little kids.

I made breakfast and we ate, later I held her for a long time before she had to leave to go to work.

It was amazing, something I thought would never happen again. Later that afternoon, I was sitting in my chair watching a court show on TV when the phone rang. It was Kathy, asking me if she could come out and stay with me.

"Sure, I told her, and bring the kids."

"Really?" She asked.

"Sure, I have some extra bedrooms, and they might like it here at the ranch.

A week later I sat her down and told her about my problem. She listened quietly.

"Three months, six months, a year? It's way better than the five years of misery I just went through, and I don't want to be anywhere else." She told me.

I told her about the family trust I had set up, explained how that would go. She said didn't care about that, either.

"When I am gone, you can find a good man your own age, or even before, I don't want any strings." I was as honest as I could be, I knew each and every day was a gift, and she was the greatest gift of all at this stage of my life.