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Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 01

By: nageren



This is part of the "Strange Arrangement" stories. This story can stand alone, but reading "A Strange Arrangement" and "Bottles" will introduce you to some of the characters that will appear in later chapters. Future chapters will be in the Erotic Couplings and Mature categories. Happy reading, thanks for voting, and I appreciate the encouraging and constructive comments!

*

"Dorothy Jane, I'll have a word with you." When Daddy said that, even in my most rebellious teenage moments, I knew there was no refusing. "Outside, please," he added, indicating the porch. I went outside and plopped myself down on the porch swing. After a minute, Daddy came out and walked down the porch steps, stopping in the front yard. He turned around and looked at me with an expression that was stern but kind. "Walk a ways with me, Dottie." The sun was just setting, the crickets were warming up their songs, and the summer breeze felt like silk running across my bare arms.

With an exaggerated sigh that only a teenager can produce, I rose from the swing and walked with slumped shoulders down the steps. Daddy gave one look and I knew to cut the attitude and walk straight. We walked around our property- a spacious 7 acres with a two story wooden farmhouse in the center. It was at least five minutes before Daddy spoke. I think he needed to cool down. Anyways, it gave me time to start to feel ashamed.

"You'll not talk to or about your mother like that again, do you understand?"

"Yes, daddy," I mumbled.

"What worries me is not that you said those things, but that you actually thought them." I kicked a pebble and watched it roll ahead of us.

I had been angry at Mama for something trivial- maybe getting in trouble for skipping chores or something. But it had escalated into a shouting match like only she and I could have. It ended when I yelled that I shouldn't have to take orders from a woman who checked out her brain and played housewife all her life. I said that since she couldn't be anything worthwhile, she ended up just a wife. Daddy had just come in from working on the car when I said that. Mama's tears always made his blood boil. That's what sparked our little walk that evening.

"Dottie, if a doctor decided not to go work at a hospital or in an office but decided to go on the mission field and help poor people, would you say he wasted his life?"

"No, Dad. I'd say he did a good thing," I mumbled.

"When a woman chooses to raise a family, she does the same thing- a very noble thing. She takes all the sense and all the learning and all the strength and all the goodness God gave her and she puts it into her family."

I kicked another pebble and felt small and foolish.

"You're a smart girl, Dottie, we all know that. Even if we didn't, you sure like to remind us. But what I heard you say just now- that was foolish. That's you being a parrot, saying stuff you heard somewhere else and not thinking about it. Dammit, girl, we raised you better. Just 'cause somebody on the TV or in a book says something don't make it true. Just 'cause a hundred or a million people say it, that don't make it true. You gotta think about it, girl."

"I know, Daddy,"

"Don't you ever forget, Dottie, don't you ever forget- if you're tempted to think your Mom is ignorant...just remember that without her, there is no you. If she hadn't worked so hard to raise you right all these years, you wouldn't be the intelligent, beautiful, strong young lady that I'm so proud of. She made great sacrifices Dottie, and she made them so you could have the opportunities she didn't get. You need to respect that."

By that point I was crying. Daddy put his arm around me and told me it was OK. He reminded me I still had some business to take care of, which meant I needed to go apologize to Mama and make it right. One thing I was raised to believe was that you didn't apologize unless you were sincere. We never said "I'm sorry" unless we meant it. I went inside the house as the moon pushed past a cloud, and I gave Mama a very sincere apology.

*******

Daddy was a good man. A lot of what he taught me still sticks with me today, almost 40 years after that evening stroll. And how I wish he was here to help me now.

This is the story of four men who shaped me (not that there weren't significant female influences, too- I'm just not talking about them right now). Daddy was the first. The next two were men I married. And the fourth...well...he's the reason my heads in a mess right now, and he's why I'm taking this long stroll down memory lane.

*******

Daddy loved Mama. There was no doubt about that. But when I say he loved her, I don't mean it in the Hollywood, googly-eyed, jumpin' into bed before you know their middle name kind of love. Or the put up with their crap because you're getting some decent tail kind of 'love.' Theirs was a love that bonded them, made them each stronger. Theirs was a love that gave and gave and gave to the other person but never ran dry. It never ran dry because the more you gave, the more you got right back.

My parents had married young, and my three brothers came along within the first 5 years. I showed up 4 years after Irwin, the youngest brother, once Mama's woman parts had gotten a little break. I suppose you expect me to say that, having three older brothers, my Daddy just raised me like a boy. No, but he didn't raise me like a girl, either. He raised me like a person. He treated me with the same respect, held me to the same standards, and pointed me in the same direction as he did each of my brothers. Maybe I should say that he raised me the way a girl should be raised.

Now that certainly limited the pool of boys I could pick from. Some were intimidated by my book smarts or confidence. Some just wanted the cheerleader type or the future homemaker or a girl who was into the whole sexual revolution we were hearing about. I knew I was headed towards a different life. It was the 1970's in America, and young women had more options than ever before.

Mama was different. She had never worked outside of the house. Daddy worked as a contractor, and Mama did everything at home- cooking, cleaning, gardening- everything. But, unlike most of my friends, both Daddy and Mama raised me. Daddy helped with homework, handled a lot of the hard conversations, and went to almost every teacher conference at school. I didn't appreciate at the time how blessed I was to have a Daddy who was such a big part of my life. He set the bar high for any man that would come into my life after him.

When I was old enough to start having some questions, it was Mama who talked to me about boys and sex and marriage. She explained my plumbing and all those awkward details. She described in general terms what sex was and some of the reasons it happens. Then she told me sex was natural and, with the right man, very very good. She blushed a little when she said that, and I was too stunned to press her for details on how to know you had the right man. She also told me marriage was a very good thing, but that it wasn't for everyone. She couldn't say how I'd know if it was for me. She just said, "You'll know."

By the time I was a teenager, all three of my brothers were out of the house- some in college, some in families of their own. From the time I was 14 until I left for college, it was just me and my parents in the house. By then, Daddy's work was pretty stable, and life in the house was a lot calmer, so my parents started enjoying more time together. I could usually tell when I would need to have music on in the evening. Mama would be giggling and Daddy would be playful. He'd tickle her, smack her bottom, or tease her about something. She'd come up behind him and give him hugs as we cleaned up dinner dishes and I knew that I would want headphones on after dark. I doubt they ever knew how clearly they could be heard in an empty house.

The mechanics of sex wasn't a huge mystery to me. Some of our neighbors had a few farm animals that I had seen do their thing, and I knew it worked pretty much the same way for people. What I didn't get was they why of sex. Sure, there was a sex drive, just like with animals. But why do we pick one person and not another? Why does it seem to affect us so much more than on just the physical level?

I don't know what I expected to learn by sneaking over to my parents' room one night when I was 16. It was a couple months after Daddy had set me straight on respecting Mama's calling in life. One night, I couldn't get my stereo working. I was down at the other end of the hall, but I could hear the bed squeaking. Slipping quietly out of my room and avoiding the creaky spots on the hall floor, I got as close as I dared, which was still not yet up to their bedroom door. I could nevertheless make out their voices.

I stood there, listening, frozen in fascination. It was only later that I felt some level of disgust- after all, my parents?...ick! But as I listened, I heard them working together. They talked. They asked questions. They laughed. They made requests. They each seemed as much interested in making the other one happy as they did getting some enjoyment for themselves. Oddly enough, that was when I realized that my parents were partners. They had different functions outside the bedroom, but inside the bedroom they were on equal ground.

I listened as Mama made a lot of noises I didn't usually hear from her. It became clear that they were very good noises. I remembered her blushing years earlier when she had told me that sex could be really good. Not long after Mama shouted her approval of their activities, the squeaking of the bed sped up and I heard Daddy's noises, which sounded angry and strained. But what garbled words he got out showed that he was anything but angry. After they got quiet, I didn't dare move. A few minutes later, I heard the toilet flush, I heard drawers open and close, I heard soft voices and some giggles. I felt like an intruder, an outsider in a sacred place. I stood there until all was quiet, taking my first step back to my room only after I heard the soft rumble of Daddy's familiar snoring.

It's hard to say how my view of Daddy changed after that. I always knew he loved and respected Mama, but now it was different. I think after that night, I stopped seeing Mama as the woman who took care of Daddy's house. It wasn't just Daddy's world anymore. I didn't lose any respect for him, though. I just started seeing that he was one part of a team. He served Mama just as much as she served him.

Having brothers in the American heartland, I thought in terms of sports, and it seemed like my parents were more like a football team than like a tennis doubles team. They didn't take turns doing the same jobs in our home- they each had their role, and they relied on the other to do it well. Marriage, it seemed to me, could be a very good thing.

*******

Marriage didn't dominate my thoughts, though, and the idea of it was pushed to the side as I prepared for college. I was a smart kid, like Daddy said, and I knew it. I'm sure it made me insufferably cocky at times. I was going to be a lawyer and fight for civil rights. I was going to take down big bad government agencies and corporations that lived and breathed injustice. I studied history and I argued with my professors regularly- mostly older white men who were so deep in the broken system they couldn't even see how corrupt it was.

Then I met James.

James was a student, like me, but he had fought in Vietnam before going to college. He was a year behind me but five years older. We were in some of the same classes, and I thrived on his stories of corruption and bad politics in the Army. We talked about all the wrongs in the world and how we had a plan to make things right. James was going to get into politics and take down the system from the inside.

I started to remember how Daddy and Mama were such a good team- raising our family the way they did. And I started to think that James and I could be a good team, too. But we would raise a new society before we would raise a family. I didn't want any kids until I had made for them the world they deserved.

Now, hindsight is 20/20, and there's no accounting for some of the foolish things we do when we are young, but I can say now that a lot of my dreams about James were just rationalizations for the lust I felt towards him. He was a charmer, and handsome, too. He let his brown wavy hair grow to his shoulders, and his body was chiseled to perfect Army standards. But it was his eyes...they were on fire. He used to think I was such a good listener, when all I really was doing was staring into that deep gaze. He'd get worked up over some issue and those eyebrows would work back and forth. His eyes would flash and I'd be lost, ready to follow him wherever he went.

By the end of that school year, I was madly in love with James. We had spent a little time alone together and had just started getting physical. But I was still a virgin, like most of the girls I knew, and I was waiting until marriage. James was from California and took a different view of things, but he didn't pressure me too much. During our summer apart, we talked on the phone a few times each week. After a month of that, James said he'd had enough- he was going to drive halfway across the country to see me. Two days later he was knocking on our door.

Mama politely invited him in for dinner, and after we ate, Daddy took James out for a long walk. I wasn't too worried. I thought the world of James, and even though he and I had some radical views, James knew how to talk to his elders. That's what made him a great politician- he could tell you everything you wanted to hear and make you think he really believed it.

When Daddy and James came back to the house, well after dark, I was waiting on the porch swing. I hopped up to run to James, but Daddy pushed him into the house with a smile and said, "Go upstairs and wash up, I'm sure Virginia's got a room ready for you." Then Daddy came over and sat on the swing. I sat back down next to him.

"He's a good boy, Dottie."

"I know, Daddy." My face could hardly hold my smile.

"Just keep your head on straight, OK? Make sure you think this through."

"I will, Daddy."

"And don't you dare be in a room alone with him in this house."

"Daddy! I'm not..." I was going to say, 'that kind of girl,' but I knew that, given a good opportunity, I could be. "OK, Daddy."

And that was all we said about it that night. We talked about other things, and I heard Mama washing dishes in the kitchen. Daddy made sure it was late and we were all sleepy before he walked me back into the house. James was already asleep, tired from his drive. I think that was part of Daddy and Mama's plan- make sure there was not time alone for us.

James stayed for a week, and we did manage to get some time alone together. We ended up talking less than usual, but our tongues were nonetheless occupied. I could tell James wanted to push for more, and one afternoon, down by the creek, he broke a kiss and whispered, "Dammit, Dottie, I wish we could..." He didn't finish the sentence, but as his words hung in the air, I said, "Marry me."

"What? Shouldn't I be the one to...you know..."

"What does it matter, James? We don't have to be like everyone else. If it's what we both want, let's get married. I don't need a fancy dress and party and cake and all that. Let's just go down to the courthouse. We don't even have to tell anyone yet."

"But what about...a house...and that sort of thing?"

"We'll make some phone calls. Your apartment is big enough for the two of us. My roommates can find someone else. We can do this!"

James looked thoughtful for a minute, then gave me that half-smile that was such a part of his manly charm. "OK!" he said. We kissed to celebrate, then went downtown. Sitting in the car outside the courthouse, I realized that half the people in there were bound to know my Daddy. I told James, and he relectantly agreed that we should wait until we got back to school to make it official. He took a detour down a country road on the ride home, and found a shady spot to stop.

"Well, if we're getting married," he said, "we can start to act married, right?"

I didn't catch his meaning until he leaned over and started kissing me. His hand went under my shirt and started rubbing my back. I loved the feeling and almost took my shirt off. But I stopped him and said, "Not yet, Jimmy. Wait 'til it's official. I mean...I want to...really...but I want to do it right."

I saw a flash in his eyes and knew he wasn't just disappointed. He was getting angry. But he moved back to his seat and said, "OK. Next month, then." He drove us back to my house and we spent one more evening with my parents before he drove back home.

The next month was long, and our phone conversations were tense with desire. I worked all summer, saving up enough to buy an older car before going back to school. I spent my last week at home fixing up the car, with a lot of help from Daddy. It was a bit of an urgent project for me, because I didn't want Daddy driving me back to school and finding out I wasn't going to be living where he thought I would be. My roommates had already found someone to take my place, so I'd be moving in with James on my first day back. And we planned to be married that afternoon.

*******

It didn't work out quite like we planned- the paperwork took a few days. Because I was sticking to my guns on the "no sex before marriage" thing, life in the apartment was strained. James wanted us to sleep together and do other sexual things that I didn't even know about. I wanted to be with him in that way, too. But despite all my counter-cultural stances, I couldn't bring myself to have sex until I was married. I slept on the couch, knowing that if I was in bed with him, I might not be able to help myself. And Lord knows James wouldn't be able to, either.

Finally, three days after we got back, we were standing before the judge, getting married. Jimmy drove like a fiend back to the apartment. As he unlocked the front door, he asked, "You want me to carry you over the threshold or something?"

Turning the doorknob, I said, "You'd have to catch me first!" Then I opened the door and bolted past him with a happy squeal. James closed the door behind us and chased me around the apartment. I made sure our chase led us to the bedroom, and I had my shirt off before James was in there. He rushed up to me and grabbed my arms, holding them tight against my body. His mouth took mine with a ferocious kiss and his hands worked around to my bra strap. He had it unlatched and off in a second.

Without breaking our kiss, his hands cupped my breasts and he groaned. They weren't large- just a handful each- but they we finally his to touch and feel and kiss and rub, and I felt myself tingling between my legs by the time he took a break. I sat down in a daze, and James guided me onto my back. He unbuttoned my pants and pulled them off, then striped himself down to just his briefs.

My eyes went instinctively to his bulge. I had never seen a naked man before, and I wondered what James would look like. He crawled over me and pulled down my panties. Giving my thighs little kisses, he put his nose outside my folds, breathed in deep, then looked at me and smiled.

"Are you ready, or do you need some help?"

I didn't know what he meant, but I was ready to finally make love, so I said, "I'm ready."

"Good," he said quickly, and pulled off his underwear. I didn't have a chance to see more than a glance of his penis, which looked much larger than I thought it should be, if it was going to fit inside me. I later learned that James wasn't very big, but to me that afternoon, he looked and felt huge.


Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 01



"Spread your legs," he whispered, and I did so, rubbing my hands on his bare chest. He knelt in between my legs and I felt the tip of his cock touching my folds. I expected him to kiss me some more or at least look at me first, but before I knew it, he was pushing inside me. His first push was hard and got him almost halfway in. I didn't like the feeling, but I knew the first time was supposed to hurt, so I didn't complain.

James did a few more small thrusts and grunted, "I thought you said you were ready."

By then, the friction was starting to hurt, and I was wincing with each push. I felt him reach my hymen and knew that the really painful part was about to come. James waited a moment, moving around inside me just a little bit. I guess I began to get a little wetter, because he said, "There, that's better," as his rod moved more smoothly in and out. That little bit of movement felt like it had potential, and I realized that, in the future, this could be quite enjoyable.

"Like a bandage, babe. Pull it off real quick and it won't hurt as much, OK?"

I didn't know exactly what he meant, but I said, "OK."

Taking that as permission, James reared back and thrust hard. I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach- a pain I was familiar with, thanks to roughhousing with my brothers. It knocked the wind out of me and I yelled, "Stop!" as I pushed against his chest.

"It's OK, babe, it's over now. It's OK. That's just the bad part...it's all good now." James spoke softly and soothingly to me, one hand running through my hair as he looked down at my teary eyes. I was breathing fast and my heart was racing as my body adapted to the sudden pain that was slowly fading into a throbbing ache. My eyes had been closed, but when I opened them, I saw his loving gaze, watching me, waiting.

Once I opened my eyes, James started moving slowly in and out. It still hurt a bit, but not so much that I wanted him to stop. After a few minutes, I said, "Jimmy....can you kiss me please?"

His lips locked onto mine and the sound of our breath hissed through our noses and our tongues dueled. His arms had been wrapped firmly around me for leverage when he entered me, but now he began moving his hands up and down my sides. My legs began closing together, responding to the pain and soreness I felt. James mumbled, "Keep 'em spread, baby." I followed his instructions, realizing he had a much better idea of what we were doing than I did.

That first time didn't last long. James broke our kiss and started huffing and cursing, making noises like I had heard Daddy making all those years ago. I looked forward to the day when I would make the same happy noises during sex that Mama had made that night.

James' hands grabbed my hips, and I winced as his thrusts grew harder. I was almost ready to ask him to go easy when he pushed deeper and held there. I winced and cried out, feeling his tip push open parts of me he hadn't gotten to yet. He pulsed inside me and groaned. I took a few deep breaths to try to avoid crying again.

James collapsed onto me, which I hadn't expected, and I rubbed the smooth skin of his back as he calmed down. After his breathing slowed, he rolled off me and said, "Damn, that was good. You are nice and tight, baby."

I guessed that was a compliment and said, "Thanks." Then feeling wetness all around my entrance- a mixture of my blood and his cum- I realized I should go clean up. As I walked to the bathroom, James said, "Just let me know when you're ready to go again."

At that point I was thinking it would be at least a day or two before I wouldn't be sore, and when I told James that, he gave me a funny look. "You'll be fine. This is...it's like a honeymoon. People get married and then have sex all day for like a whole week after."

"I guess so...but I'm still pretty sore," I said, pulling on some panties.

"Well, take an aspirin and let's go get some dinner. We'll see how you're feeling tonight. Besides, there's other ways to do this that don't involve your sore parts."

Dinner sounded good, and Jimmy was as happy as I had seen him in a long time, so I grabbed some aspirin and we headed out to eat.

*******

Later that night, James tried to teach me about blow jobs. I didn't take too well to them at first, especially when James held my head down while he came down my throat. I figured it would just take a little time before I started to enjoy sex the way Mama did. I didn't want to consider the possibility that James wasn't the right guy, because...well...we were married, so it must be right.

I gagged and felt like I would vomit. When he pulled out of my mouth, I needed to gasp, but then choked on the stuff he had shot into my mouth. It took me a few minutes to regain my composure. I felt a few flashes of humiliation and violation, but I pushed them down, figuring it was just residual guilt. Now that I was married, I didn't need to feel bad about this- everything was just as it should be, I just needed to learn. And soon, I would get used to it and enjoy it, like I was supposed to. After that unpleasant experience, James held me in his arms and said sweetly, "I guess you've earned a little treat. Go ahead and take off your pants."

"Jimmy, I'm still a little sore down there," I said firmly.

He smiled and said, "I'm not gonna poke you...yet. Let me show you something else we can do."

I slipped out of my pants, eyeing him with hesitation. Jimmy told me to lie down on the bed, and once I did, he began kissing my thighs again. This time, instead of moving up on top of me, he put out his tongue and did one long lick along my folds. I yelped in surprise and Jimmy laughed, catching my hands as they attempted to push him away.

"This'll feel even better once we trim back this bush," he said. I wasn't too hairy, but James said the girls in California kept things real short- even bare sometimes. I didn't like thinking about how much experience he seemed to have- it was funny that we had never talked about it before. But I did appreciate getting to enjoy the fruit of that experience.

James kept licking, slowly pushing his tongue deeper into my folds. Once I got used to the feeling, I relaxed my hands and James let them go. He then used his fingers to pull my lips open a bit, which allowed his tongue to tease my entrance. His soft, pliable tongue felt soothing on my still raw pussy. I closed my eyes and breathed out through my nose, actually beginning to enjoy the sensations.

Now, I know you aren't going to believe me, but I had never had an orgasm before that day. I didn't know about rubbing myself- it just wasn't something girls I knew talked about. And I'd never thought to try it. Sure, I'd felt sexual desire, and I would usually respond by squeezing my thighs and feeling tingly, but nothing more had ever come of it (no pun intended).

So when Jimmy, who turned out to be quite talented with his tongue, began circling my clit, I almost lost my breath. I opened my eyes wide and gasped. I didn't know exactly what he was doing, but I wanted him to do more of it. I moaned and wiggled and pushed my hips up. Jimmy backed off a bit, slowing down to tease me. I tried to complain, but I could only moan. No words...I had no words for what I was feeling and wanting. I put my hands on the back of his head and pulled him in to me.

"ooooohhh, Jimmy...what are you doing to me?" I said under my breath. When I tried to pull him even closer, trying to force contact between his tongue and my clit, Jimmy slipped a finger into my pussy. At first, I winced at the contact, not liking having something in there again. But before I could complain, his tongue pressed hard right where I wanted it. My breaths came fast and I felt my body tense up, like I was holding in a sneeze or something. Then suddenly it all released. I yelled sounds I couldn't control, I squeezed my thighs together around Jimmy's head, I rubbed my hands over my exposed skin...it was too much sensation and not enough. I sounded like Mama and thought, "Jimmy must be the right guy!"

I started to relax and open my legs. I was still trembling a little and had goosebumps on my arms. I wanted Jimmy to hold me and kiss me, so I tugged at his shoulders, trying to pull him up. He sprang forward and got on top of me.

"Damn, that was hot! You got me all ready to go again!" As he said that, I felt him poking around my entrance.

"Nooo, Jimmy. Not yet. I'm still sore," I whined.

"You can't get me all hard like this and then say no," he snapped, finding my hole and starting to push. Mercifully, I was much more prepared this time than the first time. When James pushed, he slid right in. I felt a dull pain, especially deeper inside, but it wasn't nearly as painful as I had feared. James started thrusting fast and grunted, "Pardon me if I just get mine right now. You already got yours."

I could smell my own scent on his smooth cheeks and wondered if I would be willing to kiss him like that. But I didn't have to worry about it- he wasn't interested in kissing or anything so tender. Jimmy pushed and thrust and grunted for three or four minutes, then came with another deep thrust that made me wince in pain. He quickly rolled off me and went to the bathroom to wash up. I lay there for a few minutes, wondering how long it would take for me to enjoy sex the way I wanted to.

*******

I know almost every marriage goes through changes, and over the years your spouse becomes like another person. That's normal. But James seemed to change overnight. All the idealistic talk, all the good manners and charm, it ended right away. Oh, he wasn't a cruel and hateful man, but he wasn't who he seemed to everyone else- or who he had seemed to me. I realized that he really did have a gift- a special ability to know what people wanted to hear and to say it convincingly. A few months after we got married, I started to realize that he'd done the same thing to me.

About that time, two big things happened. First, I told my parents we had gotten married. We had planned to wait until the next spring to tell them we were "engaged," and then have a real wedding that summer. But I had to change that timeline because of the other thing that happened. Just before Thanksgiving, I started getting sick. It didn't take long to figure out that I was pregnant. James and I just stared at each other when we found out. Neither of us had given a thought to kids and how to not have them. And with Jimmy huffing and puffing on top of me every night, it was inevitable that something would catch, sooner rather than later.

Daddy and Mama weren't sure what to think. They liked James and were glad we had gotten married before getting started on a family. But they didn't like it being all secret- like we were ashamed or hiding something. And they didn't like that it was going to interrupt my studies. We spent the Christmas holiday with my family, and Mama and my sisters surrounded me with pregnancy stories and advice. James charmed his way through the family, earning the approval of my brothers, and I felt like we were a happy couple.

But when we got back to school, James was unhappy. He insisted I take time off of classes to work while I could. We had been scraping by before, but with a baby on the way, something had to change. James argued that he needed a degree if he was going to support us down the road. I could come back later and finish my classes, once our child was in school all day. We fought and yelled and I cried and James seethed and after one such shouting match he hit me.

He smacked me right across the face. He immediately apologized and moved back a few steps, putting his hands over his mouth. Then he moved towards me and hugged me, mumbling apology after apology. I was just stunned. My cheek was stinging, but my tears weren't from that pain. It was the betrayal. The How could he? The fear of what he might do the next time he got angry.

And as most such stories go, that one hit wasn't the last. For a while, every blow was accompanied by an apology. But then he was less and less sorry. Then he started blaming me for doing things to make him upset. I finally did drop out of school, hoping it would make him stop being so angry. It didn't. I found a job that I could work almost full-time, hoping that the money would make him less stressed. It didn't.

I never even considered leaving him- James was my husband, and we had to make it work. Besides, where would I go? Where would I live? How could I face people if I left him, if I gave up on our marriage? I knew I could always go home, but even the thought of that filled me with shame.

Then when I tried to surprise him on campus one day in February, bringing a picnic lunch for the two of us, I saw him sweet-talking another girl outside his classroom. She looked a lot like me- petite, blonde, thin- apparently Jimmy had a type. Talking was OK- I couldn't expect him to stop talking to women. But when he reached out and ran his fingers along her blushing cheek, just like he had so many times before with me, I broke. I went home in tears. Jimmy got back a few hours later and we had an epic fight.

"I'm your wife!" I screamed. "I'm your wife!" I threw books at him, he threw them right back. All my fears and hormones and insecurities found expression as I crafted insults to lob at him. He responded with derogatory and hurtful names. I grabbed a pillow and tried hitting him over and over. He blocked the blows, then grabbed my wrists and pushed. I stumbled and fell, catching the arm of a wooden chair in my gut on the way down.

James stormed out of the house, calling me a "crazy bitch." I just sat on the floor and sobbed. My stomach hurt, my pride hurt, and my heart was broken.

James didn't come home that night. I woke up with a sharp pain in my abdomen and had to drive myself to the hospital. It was a rough night, and I was too dazed to catch most of the details. Long story short, I was losing the baby. After the doctor told me, translating the medical jargon, he asked if he could call my husband. I looked at him through my tears and said, "No. I want my Daddy."

*******

Daddy picked me up at the hospital a few hours later and drove me all the way home, stopping at my empty apartment long enough to grab a few things. Neither of us spoke the whole time. Daddy wasn't angry- not at me, anyways. When we got home, Mama hugged me and walked me to my room and made everything feel OK for a while.

When I was ready to talk, which was the next morning, I told them about our fight. Daddy stayed calm, but I could see his knuckles turning white as he gripped his coffee mug. We all three cried about the baby, even if I was slightly relieved not to be facing such a huge responsibility for which I felt wholly unprepared. We talked about forgiveness and how turning the other cheek doesn't mean subjecting yourself to more abuse. Daddy and Mama talked about some of the hard times they had gone through- some things I had never heard about. It was a meaningful and enlightening conversation, but at the end of it, I still didn't know what to think about James and me. I asked them what I should do.

"Well that depends on what you want to do, pumpkin," Daddy said simply.

"I...I don't want to be around him anymore. But I'm afraid to leave. And...and I do want to be around the him that he used to be...if that makes sense."

"It does honey, but that might not be possible," Mama offered.

Daddy reached out and put his hand on mine. "Just wait, Dottie. If he's as bad as he seems, he's going to mess up big sooner or later. Then it'll be real easy to end it. You won't need to go through a whole 'he said, she said' battle in the court. But if he's gonna change, you can give him time. Meanwhile, just rest up. He'll know where to find you when he's ready."

Daddy made a lot of sense, and I agreed to stay there for a while. "A while" ended up being almost two months. James showed up unannounced early on a Sunday morning in spring. My parents had just left for church and would be gone until after lunch, so James and I had a chance to talk alone.

Turns out Daddy had been right. James had messed up in a big way, stealing petty cash from his job. When he got caught, he mouthed off to his boss. He got fired from his part-time job and had been too drunk to keep up with any of his classes. He came back to me penitent and humbled- a new man.

"Dottie, I'm human," he said earnestly. "I've got weaknesses and I screw up. I need you to forgive me and help me change. I wanna be the kind of man who deserves you, the kind of man you used to think I was." And so on. He said all the right things, and he looked at me with those deep, burning eyes, and I just couldn't turn him away.

I really believed him and I really had hoped that this would be a fresh start for both of us. I would go back to school, taking some summer classes to catch up; we would learn how to be a happy couple; we could get our future back on track. I hoped, I earnestly hoped that he had lost his bad qualities and kept his good ones.

James had been kneeling in front of me, his arms on my lap as he apologized. I told him about losing the baby, which didn't seem to faze him. He looked at my eyes and said, "I guess...that's for the best?" He spoke hesitatingly, watching my reaction. I gave a small nod and he said, "Yeah...for the best."

As he said that, he was planting kisses on my knees, then along my thighs as he moved my skirt up. I knew where he was headed, and I really did want to be touched. I had missed the feeling of him next to me, on top of me, around me, and in me. I stood up to pull down my panties, and he directed me to the bed. I lay down and he began licking me. I could never cum except when he would lick me, which happened far too seldom, I thought, compared to the daily intercourse James had insisted on.

That morning, he put all his skill to work, making every tender touch an apology. He twice drove me to a hearty, gasping climax- twice! I sighed deeply as he crawled onto me, pulling up my shirt and doffing his own clothes as well. He closed his eyes and groaned as he pushed in. I lay there and enjoyed the feeling of his skin on mine. I took in his familiar scent. I moved along with him, helping to guide him to a quick and quiet cum. He grunted softly in my ear as he pulsed inside me. I wrapped my arms around his back and smiled, floating on the euphoria of sexual satisfaction and hope.

*******

We packed up my things in the car and waited for Daddy and Mama to return from church. We both knew Daddy would want to take a walk with James before we left. When my parents came in the house, Mama was polite but tense around James. Daddy stood still, looking from James to me and back again. Before he could say anything, Jimmy stood up and walked towards the door. "Shall we take a walk, sir?" Daddy nodded and followed him out.

They returned two hours later, James looking a little pale. He'd been crying, I could tell, but I wagered Daddy had put some fear in him, too. We stayed through dinner, then drove back to our apartment, arriving there at almost midnight.

The next morning, we set about finding jobs to help us save up before the next school year. I quickly got a stable 9 to 5 as a retail clerk, and after a week, James got an early morning job driving a delivery truck. We got into a comfortable routine- we worked during the day, I would come home and make us dinner, we'd watch some TV, go to bed and make love before falling asleep. It was simple and easy and just what I needed.

*******

It didn't last, though. A month and a half into what I thought would be our new and better life, James got fired again. Apparently, he had made some inappropriate remarks to a female coworker and had touched her in a way she didn't like. On top of that, he mouthed off to his boss when he was confronted about it. James didn't tell me any of that- he only told me they'd had cutbacks and he was looking for a better job. I heard about it through a woman I worked with whose sister worked at the same place as James.




Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 01



I should have known better than to confront him about it, but I tried to believe the best and not accuse him. "James, somebody was telling me stories about something that happened at your last job."

"Well, you know better than to believe stories, girl," he said with a mouthful of food. It was evening, and I had just finished making dinner after working a little late that day.

"I know, but I just wonder why someone would make it up. I heard you touched someone and got in trouble for it."

"Like I said, don't believe everything you hear," he said dismissively.

I chewed my food in silence for a minute. Then, against my self-protective instinct, I asked softly, "Is it true?"

James dropped his fork and stared daggers at me. "What?"

I felt the tears starting. Angry tears, sad tears, desperate tears. "Is...it...true? Did you touch her? Did you get fired?"

"What's it matter to you what I do?" he said icily.

"It matters because I'm your wife. Because we're a family. Because I need to know that you love me and will be faithful to me and that I can trust you and believe you!"

"Bitch!" he roared, standing up. "That's just silly little girl talk, that's all it is. I'll keep you happy in the bedroom and I'll make sure we don't go hungry. Beyond that, you keep your nose outta my business."

Now it was my turn to stand up and start yelling. As soon as he called me 'bitch,' I had an empty plate in my hand. "We got married!" I yelled. "Everything you do is my business now!"

"Oh, grow up, Dottie! You don't know how good you have it."

I threw the plate. It wasn't my intention to hit him, and I had a good enough arm that I could send it exactly where I wanted it. The plate went sailing over his shoulder, shattering against the wall behind him. James ducked as the plate whizzed past his ear, then looked back at me disbelievingly. I was breathing hard through my nose, my jaw clenched shut, hoping he understood how serious and upset I was. Before I knew it, his half-full plate was sailing at my head. I got my arm up quick enough to get a nasty bruise on my forearm instead of on my face.

I yelled. He yelled. I cried. He yelled. A few cups and mugs went hurtling across the table. We both said things we'd been bottling up for a while. Be both yelled things I hoped we would feel sorry about later. Under the rage, I was thinking that maybe this big blow-up was what we needed to get everything on the table. James would see how much he was hurting me. He would understand what marriage is supposed to be. He would see that I was scared and lonely and confused and that I needed and wanted him to be close to me.

Someone started knocking on our door. The neighbors were probably upset about the noise- more than one mug had crashed against the wall we shared with them. We were in the living room, in front of the couch, pointing in each other's faces and letting accusations fly. At one point, I yelled that he couldn't just go after other women now because we were married- he had made a promise to me. I pointed to the framed picture of us dressed up in our Sunday best before we went to the courthouse. It was the closest thing we had to a wedding picture.

The knocking on the door got louder- someone was pounding and shouting. James grabbed the picture and smashed it on the end table. "That's what I think of that promise, Dottie," he said sharply and quietly. "I only married you so I could get you to spread your legs. God, don't you get it? Pussy, Dottie. It was all about a nice warm place to stick my willy. You're a hot piece of tail, but we had to go see a judge to get you to fuck me. It's nice getting some action every night, but God, I'm starting to think it's not worth it anymore."

Devastated. That was the only word that can describe how my stomach flipped inside out and then sank to my toes. I didn't know if he was serious or just being mean and spiteful, but it sure made a lot of sense. He had used me. I...I was just an object, a plaything to him. I staggered, my hand on my head. I reeled back and almost sank to the floor. Someone was fiddling with the lock, trying to open the door.

James actually laughed, "You're so...fucking...naïve, Dottie. That's all a guy wants, especially from a girl as hot as you. At least now you can lose your illusions and we can get on with real life."

I screamed in rage. I don't remember most of what happened next, but according to the police report, once they heard my scream, they broke open the door and found me bashing in James' head with a lamp. He suffered a concussion, needed 149 stitches on his head and arms, and the broken lamp sliced out one of his eyes.

*******

James pressed charges and quickly divorced me. Other than a bruise on my forearm (easily explained as being from James defending himself), there was no sign of abuse, and James denied any wrongdoing. Without any prior police report of him abusing me, there was no reason to believe my story. In every sense, James looked like the victim. He had been carried away in a stretcher while I was in handcuffs. It had taken two officers to pull me off him, but not before I'd shredded his face with the broken glass of the lamp before their very eyes.

Daddy came and tried to argue with the judge, but it really did come down to 'he said, she said.' One look at James' eye patch and Frankenstein face in the courtroom- all covered in stitches- and my fate was sealed. I spent the next few weeks in the county jail for battery. They said James suffered spousal abuse. The judge even made some remark about wives needing to be taught "to deal with their emotions in a more constructive way." I heard that and wished I had another lamp handy. That day in the courthouse was the last I ever saw of Jimmy. Good riddance.

Daddy or Mama visited me several times a week. The first time Daddy saw me after my arrest, I tried to apologize, but he held up his hand and said, "Now Dottie, the only thing you did wrong was not giving me the chance to take care of that business for you. I could've messed him up a lot worse without needing to get anyone in trouble with the law." I tried to laugh, but it just got me crying again.

After a week, I didn't feel much like talking. Part of me just withered up and died those few weeks. While I didn't make any friends, I did get to hear a lot of stories- stories that just made me angry. Story after story of women being used and abused. Desperate women who ended up there because they ran out of places that would take them in. Women so mistreated by the men in their lives, yet paying the price their abusers should pay. I became convinced that men like Daddy were freaks and that the world was full of men just like Jimmy. I resolved never to be fooled again.



Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 02



The seven weeks I spent in jail should have been a full year, but I was placed, under court order, in a special program for "violent and criminal women" for the last 10 months of my sentence. And so I moved into the Shelly P. Horton Memorial Rehabilitation Home. 

It basically was a halfway house- a communal living situation with 8 or 9 other women. Not only did we live together, we ate most of our meals together, we did chores together, and we had to participate in regular meetings. Everything was supervised, they helped us all get jobs, and we each contributed a little to the financial needs of the group. Rent was free but we bought our own food. We did all our cleaning and we lived two to a room. You couldn't spend a night outside of the house, you couldn't bring people into the house- you get the idea. Newcomers were closely monitored until they proved themselves trustworthy. 

It had almost no security- I could have run away at any point, but I knew that would mean more legal troubles. I had only been charged with a misdemeanor, and I had no intention of adding anything else to my record. I still cherished the dream of becoming a lawyer- perhaps even more strongly now that I felt myself a true victim of a rotten patriarchal system. But first I had to finish my time at the Horton House. 

The Horton House was run mostly by long-term, highly-trained volunteers, most of whom were a part of a nearby church. They were older and middle-aged women, some of them with a background in nursing or social work. A lot of the classes and meetings we had to take part in were simple life skills- how to balance a checkbook, how to eat healthy, etc. There were also classes on managing anger, avoiding harmful behaviors and all that. I really didn't learn anything. Maybe a few self-defense classes would have been more appropriate. 

I was the only one of the group who had finished high school, let alone started college. And aside from taking a lamp to Jimmy's face right in front of the cops, I had no other criminal or violent history, which was also unique. But rumors of what I'd done to my ex-husband's face had gotten around, and I had a reputation as a bad-ass. I let the rumors go- hoping maybe they'd keep trouble away from me. 

The official head of the Horton House was the pastor of the church- Pastor Glen. He didn't spend a lot of time at the house (which might have come off as creepy, since it was all younger women), but he did all of the administrative leadership. He coordinated the volunteers, had dinner with us every Sunday, and he led a weekly Bible study that we were strongly encouraged to attend (they couldn't require it, I guess). Glen was young- in his early 30's I estimated- and he didn't have the formal look and feel I had always associated with a pastor. He had a light, fuzzy beard and wore John Lennon-style glasses. He was medium height and build and his short haircut hid that, even at a young age, he was beginning to bald. He always spoke with a gentle voice and liked to make jokes. 

Glen had the files on each woman and had to approve their admittance into the Horton House. He met with each of us on our first day- introducing himself and running over some of the basic philosophy of the place. When I sat down across from him in the kitchen of the house, he was skimming my paperwork. We were on opposite ends of a large table, and a pleasant looking silver-haired woman sat a few seats down from me. 

"Dorothy?" he asked, not looking up. 

"Dottie," I said. 

"Dottie with an 'i'?" he asked, picking up a pen, still looking at the folder. 

"Yes." 

"Yes...you do like the eyes, don't you," he mumbled, punning to himself as he flipped through the pages of my file. 

Looking up at me for the first time, he cocked his head and paused with his mouth open. He looked at my eyes for almost a minute, until I shifted in my seat from awkwardness. 

"Well," he said abruptly, "Betty will fill you in on all the rules and procedures around here. It's pretty simple. I'm guessing you're not going to have a problem with anything. No history...just...just one very violent assault." 

I looked down and to the side, biting the inside of my cheek. 

"I would guess he had it coming," he said thoughtfully, still looking at me. I looked up sharply, surprised that a pastor would say such a thing. After giving me a few seconds to respond, he abandoned that path and changed topics. 

"Dottie, do you plan to go back to school?" 

"As soon as I can," I said so quickly that I surprised even myself. 

"And your plan is to..." 

"Eventually study law." 

He leaned forward and laughed, looking over at Betty. "Law? Well I didn't see that coming. Guess you've got an insider view of the criminal justice system now, don't you?" 

I said nothing in response. 

"Hmm. Let me make some calls. I wonder if I can't get you back into some classes while you're here. Would you like that?" 

I widened my eyes in surprise, nodding my head. 

"No guarantees. But I think there's some grant money available for women in your situation who want to study. It could cover some of the costs, but you'd still need to work." 

"That's no problem. I've been working and studying. It's no problem at all," I didn't like how eager I sounded, but this seemed like a great chance. 

Standing up, he said, "I'll let you know what I find. We've got a few months until fall semester starts, so hang tight and get settled. Make some friends." He paused after he said that, then turned back towards me and leaned in. " I mean that, Dottie. Make some friends here. It'll be good for your heart and..." he squinted at me, "and I'm guessing you've got a lot to offer these girls, too." 

Breaking his gaze, he straightened up and headed towards the door. "Thanks Betty- I'll be in touch. And Dottie...try to leave the lamps where they are." I rolled my eyes. 

******* 

I didn't mind the Horton House- it was better than prison, anyway. It was a few hours further west of my school, so it was a good long drive from home. Daddy and Mama visited about once a month, but after a few long talks with Pastor Glen, they felt OK with me being under the care of his staff. The volunteers were nice, even if some of them were just too saccharine sweet for me- like they hadn't really had any trouble in life, so everything was rosy and happy for them. Glen seemed that way at first- often joking and teasing, enjoying game nights and meals. But whenever he spoke at the Bible study or sometimes during serious dinner conversations, I could tell he wasn't all fluff. I kept a close eye on him- no man could work around so many young women and not be looking for a way to take advantage of them. 

I'm not sure how I did at making friends, but I soon had a few younger girls (which was funny, because I was only 21 at the time) who followed me around and asked a lot of questions. Sometimes it was about Jimmy- Had I really used a broken light bulb to dig out his eye? Was I going to get the other eye if they hadn't stopped me? How did I fight off all four police officers? 

But then it became different. I was showing them how to use the washing machine and fold their clothes. I taught them a few of the recipes that they liked. I pulled classic novels from the bookshelf and read to them, explaining some of the harder language. As girls came and went, I found newcomers had a way of ending up in my little circle, so that I usually had about 4 girls that I spent time with each day. I listened to their stories and helped them understand how their problems weren't their fault- the men in their life had forced them into a system that was against them. I told them about the unfair wages and inequities in the law. I didn't realize what a reputation I was getting until one evening when Betty came from the kitchen and saw me studying in the living room (Glen had been able to get me into a few classes that fall). 

"Mother Hen...can you make sure all your little chicks know that dinner is going to be a little late tonight?" 

Shayna, folding laundry across the room burst out laughing and said, "She ain't no Mother Hen! Don't you know she hates cock?" Then she howled at her own pun. Betty, too proper to let on that she understood the joke, looked at me and held in a laugh. 

"I've got a lamp right next to me, Shayna..." I threatened. 

She stopped laughing, "Aw, come on Dottie. You know it's true. And that was funny!" She giggled again, then tried to suppress it. I left her alone, then went upstairs to pass along the message. While I walked up the steps, I thought about Shayna's comment. Did I hate men? No. I didn't. I loved Daddy. I wished there were more men like him. I suspected men. I hated what they did to women- what most of them did, anyway. But I couldn't let these girls go on naïvely believing there was something wrong with them when some of them weren't really guilty of anything except being female. I realized that, what I most wanted to do was just...help them. Help them make a better life for themselves and stop waiting around to find the right guy who will fix everything. 

A few days later, we sat around the table for Sunday dinner. Glen was there, as usual, and conversation was light and informal. A bowl of apples was next to Glen and I asked him to pass me one. We were carefully trained on table manners- asking politely, passing things, not talking with your mouth full, all that fun stuff. Glen smiled and picked an apple from the side of the bowl, taking care to find a particular one. I thought that strange, and when I bit into it, I found it was rotten on the inside. I spit out the bite, earning a disapproving gaze from Clara, our manners expert. 

"It's rotten!" I said. 

Glen stood up, taking the bowl. "Oh, then I'll just throw them all away." 

A few girls protested, including me. "No, just give me another- they can't all be bad." 

"What? Didn't you just get a rotten one?" 

"Yeah, but there are good ones, too." 

"I don't know- you got a bad taste in your mouth from that bite. Best to assume all the apples are bad." 

I narrowed my eyes, starting to suspect he was up to something. Most of the girls seemed to be ignoring us, but one or two of my little gang stared in wide-eyed curiosity. 

I spoke slowly, trying to piece it together. "I'd still like to try another. I'm sure they're not all bad." 

Glen tilted his head and smiled, squinting one eye, urging me to think about what I'd just said. He rolled another apple across the table to me and said, "And yet for the sake of a few assholes, you're ready to write off all mankind...interesting." 

So that was his game. I left the apple- and the rest of my dinner- on my plate. I stood up, tossing my napkin onto the table, and said, "You know, on second thought, I'm just not hungry." I walked briskly out of the room, which wasn't allowed during dinner. Clara started to say something, but I heard Glen say, "It's OK, Miss Clara, let her be." As I reached the front door, I could hear Shayna at the table say, "Cluck, cluck!" and then laugh loudly to herself. I slammed the door and sat on the porch. I wished Daddy would come walk me around the block and help things make sense. 

******* 

After I'd been sitting out there for a while, and thankfully once my tears had dried, Glen slipped out onto the porch and asked if he could sit next to me. 

"It's your house," I mumbled. 

He sat down a few feet away, handing me a blanket he had brought out. I wrapped it around my shoulders and we both watched the late evening commuters driving home through our neighborhood. I envied them their easy lives- many of them had everything I had once hoped to have. That world seemed far away from me now. Marriage, family, career- it all seemed too unreal and trivial. 

After a few minutes, Glen spoke. "How are your classes going?" 

"Fine." 

"Are you getting enough study time?" 

"Yeah. It's fine." 

"How about work? Your supervisor tells me you've adjusted well. Do you like it there?" 

"I wouldn't want to make a career of it, but it's fine for now." 

"Wow. Sounds like everything in your life is just...fine. That's great Dottie." His sarcasm wasn't mean. It was playful, and I fought back a smile. Neither of us spoke for a few more minutes. Then Glen said, "Dottie..." 

I jumped in, saying what I had been thinking about for the past hour. "There's a big difference between getting a bad bite of fruit and...and what happened to me. There's a lot bigger risk involved in...it's a lot more than just taking another bite." 

"I know that Dottie, and I don't want to belittle your experience...or your pain. I just want to make the point that not all men are like your ex-husband. In fact, without knowing the details of what preceded that incident with the lamp, I'd guess James was a pretty exceptional, grade-A asshole. Based on what I've seen in you these past few months, anyone that can get such a reaction out of you had to have been pretty uniquely awful." 

"I've heard a lot of stories this past year, Pastor. A lot of stories from a lot of women, and James doesn't sound too unique." 

"Hmm. Excellent point." He thought for a moment. "Tell me, Dottie, have you ever heard the term 'sampling bias'?" 

I thought back to when I had heard that term- it was in a research methods class. "Heard it. Don't remember it." 

"You walk into a hospital and start studying people's health. What are you going to find?" 

"Everyone is sick." 

"So can you conclude that the whole world is sick? Is there an epidemic?" 

"No. Obviously...OK, I remember. The pool of candidates is biased to give you certain results." 

"Exactly. So you've been hearing stories...where? In prison? In Horton House? Among the women who have had some of the worst experiences with men- the worst? Let me introduce you to some people with different experiences. Go have a long talk with Betty about her husband, Ron. Thirty-two years they've been together- longer than I've been alive- and she still just glows when she talks about him. You've spent too much time in the rotten apple bin. There's a whole big orchard out there." 

"Maybe. But Jimmy seemed nice, too. A lot of guys are two faced. They're as nice as you when they're in public, but they've got another side. An ugly side." 

"I'd be a fool to deny that, Dottie. But you're still just talking about the rotten apples." 

"What's the deal, anyway? Why are you so concerned about me? Almost all the girls here have this problem." 

"Well, Mother Hen, I guess I'm just trying to get the most out of my efforts. If I can persuade you to see things differently, it won't be long before most of the the other girls will see it the same way as you." 

"I think you're exaggerating," I said softly, staring up at the moon. 

"I think you don't know what a natural leader you are. These girls listen to you. Not just because you've got more book smarts than them, though that helps impress a few of them. But they know a good thing when they see it- they know you've got a special kind of wisdom. And more than that...you care about them." 

I looked sharply at him. Caring was...it was almost a weakness in this new world I had been thrust into. 

"I know, I know," he said. "God forbid any of you women have a heart. But I can see it. You want to help them, Dottie, just like I do. And I'm just wanting to make sure that what you're doing actually helps." 

I wasn't ready to respond to that, and Glen knew when to end a conversation. He left that thought hanging, and after a couple minutes, he went back inside. "Betty put your food in the oven to keep it warm," he said as he opened the door. 

"Thank you," I said quietly. 

"No, thank Betty for that. I wasn't going to fight Clara, who said you should go hungry for leaving so rudely. But Betty stood up for you." 

"No...I mean...thank you." 

"Oh. Well in that case...you're welcome." 

******* 

A few weeks later, after Sunday dinner, I walked out to the porch again. I had found it to be a nice place to think and process. With Glen trying to subtly plant ideas in our heads during dinner conversation, I usually needed some time to reflect. Glen joined me after he had cleared the table. Handing me a mug of hot chocolate, he asked if he could sit down. I scooted over to make room, and Glen sat on the far end of the step, leaning his back against the handrail post. In that position, he was facing me while I watched the cars go by. 

"Finals coming up?" he asked. 

"Yeah. But I'm mostly ready," I said, my mind still on other things. 

"Good. So...I was thinking it might be a good idea to transfer your credits to somewhere closer to here." 

I turned my head to look at him, my face showing the skepticism that I felt. 

"It's just a thought. But what if you could go full time next semester? I could take care of the details as far as the courts go- you could probably get away without needing a job, as long as you kept up your grades. Your time here is up during the middle of the semester, so it makes more sense that way." 

"And what happens when my time here is up? No place to live, no job. Doesn't sound like a good situation for me. It makes more sense for me to go back home." 

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I've been kicking around an idea for a year or so of hiring a residential caretaker. Someone to live in the house and help look after the girls. The pay wouldn't be much, but your housing and food would be covered. It would look good on your resume, it would really help us out, and it might be just the thing you need to help you finish your bachelor's program." 

So it was a well-thought-out plan. The Horton House was feeling like a good, safe environment for me, and to combine that with my education would be pretty ideal. Glen could see me thinking it through, and he said, "No need to answer now. I still haven't convinced the State to give me the funding yet. But think about it. If you're interested, I'll make sure it happens." 

******* 

I did think about it. When Daddy and Mama visited the next weekend, we talked about it for a long time. Daddy finally said, "I think I need to have another talk with that preacher." Glen took a long walk with Daddy that Sunday after church while Mama showed the girls and I how to make pie crusts from scratch. When the guys returned, Daddy took me out to the porch and we talked some more. He mostly asked what I thought of Glen and if I trusted him. 

"About as well as I trust any man," I answered. 

"That's an answer that ain't an answer, Dorothy Jane." 

"Fine. I guess...I've got no reason not to trust him. Everyone else thinks he's a good guy- even the women who have been working with him for a few years. I guess that says something." 

"Good enough," Daddy replied, without explanation. 

******* 

I'm sure you know where this is headed, but at that point, I still had no idea. It turned out, Glen and Daddy had a long talk that began with Daddy trying to find out exactly what Glen's vision was for my role at the House. But as Glen talked about that vision, he smoothly transitioned into asking my father if, somewhere down the road, he would consent to a marriage. That took Daddy by surprise, and he thought maybe Glen and I had been carrying on in secret, like I had with James. After Glen assured my agitated father that nothing of the sort had happened, he explained that he doubted he could talk me into a relationship, but just in case he did, he wanted to know that it was OK. 

It took Daddy some convincing that there really wasn't anything going on between us, and once he believed Glen, it seemed even more strange that he would be thinking so far ahead. 




Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 02



"Do you love her?" Daddy asked, trying to figure out Glen's angle. 

"Well, not in the romantic sense, no. But I see so much good in her, so much potential. I see so many ways that we would make great partners helping others. I love watching her fuss over the younger girls and I think she's about the sharpest mind I've seen." 

"And you think she'd go for this, even without falling in love and all that?" 

"Sir, I think that might be the only way it's going to happen for her. I don't think romance did her well." 

"Yeah..." Daddy drawled slowly. "You're probably right about that. But she's her own woman. Nothing her mother and I could do or say would change her mind, I think, so I don't know why you're talking to me." 

"I've seen how she listens to you. She's proud and smart, but she still knows to seek wisdom where it can be found. And if she comes asking you about me...well, I just don't want you to be surprised. And I want you to know where I'm coming from. You asked if I love her. I say not in the romantic sense, but there's a kind of love that runs deeper than that. And what I'm trying to sort out for myself is whether or not that's what's going on when I think of her." 

Daddy laughed and said, "You'll do fine, son. You'll do just fine." 

******* 

I was oblivious to that whole conversation until years later, when Glen told me. Because yes, Glen and I ended up getting closer to each other. I never saw it coming, and I think that was his plan. I took him up on the job offer, and I worked there for a year and a half while I finished my schooling. One of my main jobs was to be there at night, sleeping in the house, being there for the girls when they needed me. It turned out that night time was when a lot of them got really thoughtful and open to changing some things in their lives. And having a woman there who had been where they'd been helped to balance out the sweetness that Betty and Clara brought to the House. 

The next May, I graduated with my history degree, and the night after my last exam, Glen took me out to dinner to celebrate. By that point, we knew each other well, and I considered him a friend. He had been helping me process my next steps, which had gotten complicated. I wasn't as interested anymore. I really, really loved helping the girls. Staying where I was full time wasn't really a long-term option, but I hoped there could be some way to continue working with girls in need. Over dinner, Glen said he had a suggestion. 

The last time he'd had a suggestion about my future, it worked out well, so I was ready to listen. 

"Stay here. Stay at the Horton House and get your Master's Degree." 

"What?" I laughed. "You just don't want to lose your cheap labor, is that it?" I teased him. 

"No...or yes...I mean, you should get your Master's in Social Work. You've got a sharp mind, and you're neck deep in the kind of stuff that a lot of your professors only know in theory. Get the degree and you'll be surprised what kind of doors open for you." 

"Well, I can't say I hadn't considered things like that. But the problem is funding. You managed to get that grant to stretch long enough to cover my last year, but I don't think you could get it for a whole new degree program...could you?" 

"No...definitely not. Not now that you've finished 'paying your debt to society'. But I have a plan for paying for your next degree." 

"Oh, you've just thought through all this, haven't you?" We had a very comfortable relationship. We teased and joked a lot, and I felt comfortable speaking my mind to him. Glen was safe, and just by virtue of his caring behavior he had done wonders in rehabilitating my view of men. I still had a lot of lingering issues, but I was ready to concede that one bad apple shouldn't disqualify the whole bunch. 

"And what's your plan to pay for my next degree, boss-man?" I smiled, leaning forward and putting my elbows on the table. I actually believed he could make it happen. He had shown himself very resourceful. 

"Marry me." 

I choked on the water I was sipping. Surely I had heard him wrong. Surely it was a joke. 

"I'm serious, Dottie. Marry me." 

"You're crazy." 

"Maybe, but that's not relevant," I rolled my eyes. "Think about it. Don't we work so well together? Don't we have a common vision for helping these women? We're a good team, Dottie." 

"The preacher and the ex-con. Yeah, that's right out of a storybook," I said dryly, trying to make light of his suggestion. 

"Dead serious, Dottie. I think the world of you. You've continued to impress me and prove to me what a special woman you are and are becoming. I'd be a fool not to want to be a part of that. As for you, if you find me tolerable, then you should at least consider it. But I like to think you enjoy my company and have some level of respect for me." 

"Impress? Respect? Aren't you forgetting love? Shouldn't there be something else involved?" 

That led to a long debate over the meaning of love and the role of romance in marriage. It wasn't unusual for us to talk like that. Glen was very smart, even though he tried not to let on, and he seemed to know about as much history as I did with my degree. By the time he was calling for the check, I had almost forgotten what had gotten us on the topic. Glen brought it up again. 

"All I'm asking you to do is to think about it. I don't need an answer right away. And I don't want you to think I'm some creepy stalker who has been hiding romantic feelings for you. I've always been very up front with you, Dottie, and this is no exception. If you marry me, I have no doubt that romance and love and all that mushy stuff would follow, but to want that first is putting the cart before the horse." 

"Glen," I said a little tersely as an unpleasant thought occurred to me, "it sounds like you're trying to buy me. If I marry you, you'll pay for my studies- is that what you're implying?" 

"I'm not implying it, I'll say it. If you were my wife, I'd gladly support you through your studies. I'm not ashamed to offer that. But I don't want you to marry me because of that. If you would marry me only because you wanted a free education, well...then I'd say no deal." 

I furrowed my brow and glared at him. Deal? Is that what marriage was to him? Glen picked up on what I was reacting to- he was a bit intuitive that way- and said, "No...poor choice of words. I mean, if you're thinking it's a business arrangement, then I think it's a bad idea. I don't want that, and you don't really want that." 

I relaxed some, but I was still a little on edge. This was odd and uncomfortable. 

"Maybe I've misread you, Dottie, but I know you've been hurt, and I'm guessing that your ex-husband took advantage of starry-eyed infatuation, called it love, and got what he was really after." 

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. That had hit too close to home. I had never talked about James with Glen, I hadn't even talked about the details with any of the girls. I had tried to just erase it, and I couched my hate in general terms. James had become all men to me. I hated him, so I had hated them. He had hurt me, so they had hurt me. I had even been mad at Daddy for a while for not protecting me from that pain. 

Glen continued, "So unless I'm way off the mark here, I would say you probably aren't going to follow the path of giddy romance into marriage, right?" 

I gave a long shrug and said a reluctant, "Probably not." 

"But judging by what I see in your parents, you know that marriage is more than that- better than that, right?" 

I sighed. Glen really was sharp. I just didn't like the feeling that he had thought so much about me without me knowing. It was like I had been stalked. "Yeah. I used to want what they have." 

"Used to?" 

I fidgeted and looked towards a window. I didn't know what I wanted. 

"Alright. I won't press. Just...think about it, Dottie. Think about the potential in what I'm offering. It wouldn't be a fairy tale that slowly faded away. I know you probably don't believe in fairy tales anyway. If you married me, it'd be more like a project- a shared vision of what could be if we both work at it. And I would swear to you that I would never stop working at it. Just...at least tell me you'll think about it." 

Why wasn't I just saying no? Why wouldn't my mouth just say it? Wasn't this foolish? I looked across the table at Glen. The dim light above us reflected off his glasses. His smile was confident, but not cocky. I liked him, I liked being his friend. I trusted him, and he had shown me such respect these past 2 years. He actually listened to my thoughts and gave me responsibility to put plans into action. He asked me good questions and showed that he cared about me as a friend and not just an employee. As a pastor he had been a trustworthy guide when I had a lot of doubts and questions. But to marry him? 

"A question, first," I said, before my good sense had the chance to censor my thought. 

"Shoot." 

"How would being married make any difference other than adding sex? We already work together, we practically live in the same house, we have meals together, we talk. Aren't you just trying to add sex?" Oh my God, did I really just bring up sex? Right there, talking to the preacher, in public? 

He smiled and didn't break eye contact. That took balls. "Dottie, it's questions like that that make me value our conversations." 

I raised my eyebrows and gave him a cynical look. "Flattery won't help you dodge the question." 

"No need to dodge it. It's a fair question. What would be different, let's see..." Glen looked up in thought. "Most importantly, it would be a lifetime commitment. What we have is nice, but you can leave at any time. So can I, for that matter. Or someone else could enter one of our lives. I'm not planning on being single forever, Dottie. In fact, I am getting pretty antsy sleeping alone all these years since I converted." 

With that remark, I felt a little embarrassed that I had never asked his story. I assumed he'd always been a religious man. 

"But it would also be a public commitment. People would always associate me with you and you with me. We'd be a permanent team. And yes, there'd be sex...and love...and doing things together, just the two of us. And who knows, maybe kids, maybe not. You would have a lot more say in my decisions and direction in life, much more than as my smartest employee." 

"Your only employee, technically." 

"For now." 

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Was he planning on expanding Horton House? 

"What I mean is, once we get married..." 

"If we get married..." 

"...I don't just expect to have you be a part of my own plans for my own life. We make new plans together. You getting another degree, for example. Who knows where that would lead us?" 

I couldn't help but feel like Glen was James' antithesis in everything. Hearing his expectations and vision for marriage made me shiver at how bad my first marriage had been. I had fallen in lust with James and then justified it with illusions of true love and life compatibility. With Glen, there had never really been any lust or physical attraction. He was plain, not ugly. His body was healthy but not the chiseled perfection of James'. But there was true life compatibility, I had to agree with Glen on that. And there was a friendship- something that would be there during the 99% of the time that we wouldn't be having sex. And then I realized I was actually imagining myself having sex with Glen, which was awkward but not unappealing. And then I realized I had spaced out and that Glen was sitting back, watching me. 

I looked up, a little flustered at being caught daydreaming. Glen smiled and said, "What I would give to know where your mind was for that minute..." 

"Hush. I'm ready to leave." We walked back to his car, and I stared silently out the window at trees and purple clouds during the drive back to the house. Glen wasn't staying there that night, but he still walked me to the door. I didn't know if he was expecting a good night kiss or something, but he saved me the worry by staying at the steps once we got to the porch. He waited until I had the door open, then turned to leave. 

"Glen?" I said, holding the open door with one hand. 

"Hm?" he responded, half turning to face me. 

"I'll think about it." 

Glen beamed at me and simply replied, "Good. Very good. Thank you, Dottie." Then he turned and walked back to his car. I watched him from the small window next to the door, and only after he drove away did I walk up to my room. I lay down on top of my sheets, stared at the ceiling, and thought. 

******* 

My parents came up for graduation the next week, and they took both Glen and I out to dinner, along with Betty and Ron. It should have felt odd to be out to dinner with two older married couples and me and Glen, but we had such a familiar relationship that it didn't feel strange. The only awkward moment was when Ron started pestering Glen about settling down. 

"I've told him a hundred times," Betty said, "he just needs to say the word. There's women enough who are ready for a good, stable man." 

Daddy looked at Glen, who was handling it gracefully, then he looked at me, as I fidgeted in my seat. Mama saw Daddy's look and when she saw me looking nervous, she nudged Daddy. 

"Got any grandkids?" Daddy asked abruptly. That question, of course, sent Betty and Ron into a whole long spiel on their perfect grandbabies. After dinner, we parted ways with Betty and Ron and Glen. Daddy suggested all three of us go on a walk. I knew he could tell something was going on, so as soon as we were a block away from the house, I told them that Glen wanted to marry me. 

"Hm," was all I got in response. So I told them more. I told them the highlights of our conversation, and how he was talking about romance coming after marriage and how we would be a good team and how I wasn't much attracted to him at first and... 

"Do you want to marry him?" Daddy interrupted me. 

"Didn't you listen, Dad? He's talking about something weird- like a business partnership or something. It's not a bad idea, but what if I don't end up falling in love with him? What I just end up...stuck, married to a nice guy that I don't love?" 

Mama said softly, "You could always grab a lamp and get yourself out of that situation..." 

"Virginia!" my dad said sharply, just as I said a shocked, "Mom!" Mama just giggled. It was funny, in a way. 

"I wouldn't do that to Glen," I said after a moment. 

"Why not?" Mama asked me. 

"Because he's...he's nice. I don't think he'd do anything to get me that riled up." 

"Not riled up in that way, at least..." Mama said. Daddy gave her a sharp look and she just giggled, I wondered if she'd had too much wine at dinner...or if Daddy was in for a fun night at the hotel. 

Turning back to me Daddy said, "So you think he's nice, you trust him, you two are obviously doing something good here..." 

"But...love? Is it right to marry someone because they're nice and you get along and you work well together?" 

Mama and Daddy both just laughed. "Honey," Mama said, "I know a lot of couples who just wish they could say that about their marriage. Too many people start out really...hot, and they expect that everything else will just come along naturally. But what you're talking about- that's what people really want. Your Daddy and I were lucky. Lust became love." 

Daddy chuckled, "With three little boys our first few years, we didn't have time for lust!" 

"Hush. Now you're embarrassing Dottie." 

I was only half-listening. What I had with Glen, it was good. It was a good start at least. It really was a lot like what I'd been hoping I could have with James after the initial passion died down. With Glen there was the comfortable stability of a safe man. But it still felt like something was missing. What if there never was any passion? I had grown to enjoy the lust James felt for me- he made me feel very sexy and desirable. Even if he was just using my body, I still felt strong and proud for how I was able to make him feel. Would I be OK marrying a man who didn't make me feel like that? Was a great relationship with bad or OK sex still a great marriage? 

And then there was my future to think about. Marrying Glen would give me options I wouldn't have otherwise- my parents couldn't fund my schooling at this point, and I didn't know what else I would do otherwise. If I said no to Glen, I didn't think I could stay at the Horton House. He would let me, sure, but I wouldn't feel comfortable. 

"Daddy, Mama, what if I came back home for a while?" 

They looked at each other as we got within sight of the House. Daddy answered for them. "You know you're always welcome, Dottie. You can come back anytime. But...wouldn't that feel more like a step back instead of forward right now?" 

I sighed and gripped my elbows. It was summer, but after dark it still got a little chilly. Daddy was right. What I needed to do was move forward. I just didn't know in which direction. 

******* 

I left Glen hanging in suspense for another two weeks. Much to his credit, he didn't pressure me or even bring it up again. He gave me all the space I needed to really think about it. What it boiled down to was, to be honest, wanting to continue my education. Glen was nice, I felt like I could live with him, and sexual attraction wasn't the most important thing to me. You might say I compromised. I didn't tell him that. I made him believe I agreed that we would be a good team and that he was everything I really wanted for my future. What I really thought was that this was the best shot I was going to get. 

What helped confirm my decision was that I missed talking to him. During the 3 weeks between his "proposal" and my acceptance, we hardly talked like we usually did. By the end of that time, I realized I wanted my friend back. Glen was the one I processed things with, the one I planned with. I got along well with Betty, I was on good terms with Clara, and there were a few other volunteers that I had nice relationships with, but Glen was uniquely close to me. As he said later, the two of us getting married was "less about changing our relationship as it was acknowledging what was already happening in our relationship." Hardly something you would put in your wedding vows, but there was a down home realism to it that I liked. But the one big change, of course, was our physical relationship. 

I worried about sex with Glen. I worried about what he would expect and what he would want and what he would think of me. He had never complimented my appearance, and he didn't give me the leering stares I had caught from more than a few guys in college. I knew I was pretty- the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, nicely shaped all-American girl. But I started to worry that Glen was mostly sexless and that he wasn't really physically attracted to me- that this was as much a practical decision for him as it was for me. A few weeks after I accepted his proposal, while we were planning some of the details of the small wedding, he put some of those fears to rest. 

"I'm running a risk, you know," he said in that voice that I knew meant he wasn't totally serious. 

"What's that?" 

"Marrying you- I'm risking a hit to my reputation." 

"Oh, right. The tainted woman." 

"No, not that. I don't even think of that anymore. I know you were as innocent of wrongdoing as any anyone could be. You should've gotten a medal, not handcuffs. But no, I'm thinking that people who don't know you are going to think I'm just marrying you for your looks." 




Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 02



"My looks?" 

"Well...yeah. Here you are, this...incredibly beautiful woman. It's all I can do not to stare at you sometimes. And somehow, this lecherous preacher man has manipulated you into marrying him. Oh, how worldly I am! I went for the pleasures of the flesh when choosing a wife!" 

"Well it's a good thing you don't care much for the pleasures of the flesh, right?" I said in all seriousness. Glen looked at me in surprise, then just leaned back in full bodied laughter. It took him a minute to just calm down and catch his breath. We were sitting next to each other at the table, and he turned his chair to face me. 

"That's funny, Dottie. Real funny." 

I was curious. "But...I thought that wasn't a big deal for you...or something. I mean you've gone so long..." 

"I've gone so long because I've been single. I was a free lovin' hippie before I converted and became a pastor. Dottie, I am big into the pleasures of the flesh. Just...in the right context- marriage." 

"So you really want to...you know...with me?" I realized I had been a little foolish, thinking he just didn't care about sex. We were sitting next to each other at the table, and he turned his chair to face me. 

"You're joking, right? Dottie, if you weren't asking for a wedding ceremony, I would call in Pastor Ed right now to marry us. I am...eager...to add the physical dynamic to our relationship. But..." he paused and stopped smiling like he'd won the jackpot, "I also want to be sensitive to your scars and to the way sex was...less than ideal...in your past. And I know that you don't necessarily have those kind of feelings for me yet, so I haven't wanted to move that direction until you're ready. I want to give some time for that to develop" 

And then I understood part of why he wasn't pushing the physical relationship- he knew that would be a sensitive issue for me. I suddenly and unexpectedly wanted to kiss Glen. "So how do you think something like that develops?" I asked, genuinely wanting to know. 

"Honestly, I don't know. I just know you can't force it. But I guess being around someone a lot, and enjoying time with them, and maybe letting your imagination help out." 

"Imagination?" 

"Yeah...you know, picturing a physical relationship can make you start to want it. And then wanting it makes you think about it more- it's like a cycle that fuels itself. You can't make yourself want, but you can make yourself imagine, which may kick start the process." 

I thought about that, and I realized that, over the past few weeks, as I pictured myself being physical with Glen I had noticed that I started to desire that...just a little at first. Maybe that was OK. 

"Glen, do you think everything should wait until marriage?" 

"I think a lot of it should. You're talking about sex, right?" 

"Yeah...so...if I was ready to try something physical before the wedding, that might be OK?" 

Glen got a goofy smile and said, "Sure. Some things would be OK. The Bible doesn't lay out details on that, really, but some good advice I've gotten from people I trust is that clothes stay on and hands stay above the waist- but otherwise go for it, since we're engaged." I laughed at that- it seemed to be so puritanical by some standards and yet so much more liberal than I expected. 

"So...if I wanted to kiss you right now...that would be OK?" 

"Neither God nor I would stop you. And if Betty walked in and saw it, she'd probably give you a high five." 

"Glen...I'd like to kiss you now. To help my imagination." 

"I would really like that." Then he smiled and added, "But my imagination doesn't need any help." 

Sitting in our chairs, I leaned towards him a bit. He leaned in to meet me, but before our lips met, we both paused. I giggled softly, feeling awkward. Glen lifted his hand to my cheek, gently holding me still as he brushed my lips with his. I closed my eyes and let my lips feel him. He had a very short beard- not much longer than the head of hair he kept buzzed short. The whiskers tickled and scratched a little, but not so much that it was uncomfortable. 

After just a gentle touch of our lips, Glen pulled back and asked softly, "Is that OK?" 

After a second or two, I whispered, "Yeah." 

"Is that enough for now?" he asked. 

My eyes still closed, I breathed in and out a few times, then answered, "No." Glen was the only man I had ever kissed other than James, and James had never kissed me like that. With James, a kiss was a forceful thing, passionate and strong, a fiery prelude to a vigorous fucking. When Glen kissed me, I felt like the kiss itself was the most special thing I could be doing. It had hints of something more, but it was also something that bonded us by itself. 

Our lips touched again, and I put my hand on his, which was still on my cheek. With my other hand, I moved from his shoulder down his arm and took his free hand in mine. As our lips parted and our tongues touched, I squeezed his hand. We sat there like that for less than a minute, slowly opening and closing our mouths, tentatively exploring new territory, irreversibly crossing a line in our relationship. 

It was Glen who pulled away, and I was surprised that I instinctively moved forward, trying to prolong the contact between us. Once he was sitting up straight again, I opened my eyes and blinked a few times, trying to regain my focus. I looked up at Glen- the man who would soon be my husband. He wasn't giving me the smug grin I expected. He instead looked a little scared. 

"Are you OK?" I asked. 

"That's the first time I've touched a woman in...12...13 years." He said, a confused expression spreading over him. "I just don't remember it being so intense. I guess...back then I had gotten to where sex was just a common thing...it lost all meaning...but kissing you...wow!" 

I smiled, feeling a mixture of things I couldn't place. "I've never seen you at a loss for words before," I teased him. 

"You might need to get used to it...if...wow." 

******* 

I can't say that after that I was crazy in lust with Glen. It wasn't like blinders had been taken off my eyes and I suddenly just wanted to take him to bed. But something did change. I liked kissing him. But once again, it felt like the opposite of what happened with James. I liked James because I wanted his body. I began to want Glen's body because I liked him. I wasn't sure if one of those was more right or more natural than the other, but what began to happen with Glen sure felt good. 

We kissed as often as we had the chance to. It was distracting at times, because neither of us wanted to stop there. One time we were on the couch, and our bodies just naturally stretched out with Glen on top of me. Our hands were roaming everywhere they could reach when we heard voices on the porch- some of the girls were getting back from work. Glen and I jumped up and headed into the kitchen to straighten out our clothes. Glen looked especially flustered- I had felt his hardness pressing against me, even through all our clothes. In that moment, I had wanted to go much further than, "clothes on, hands above the waist." As if reading my mind, Glen gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and said, "Three more weeks, love." I smiled, realizing I was starting to look forward to that. 

******* 

Our wedding was small and simple. All my family was there, including some extended family that didn't exactly know the story behind how I had ended up at Horton House. Glen's family was there, as were most of the members of our church. A dozen or so of the girls who had been through the House over the years came back, some of them quite surprised that Glen and I were together. It was so encouraging to see that more than one of them had gotten their life on track after leaving the House. Shayna laughed and shook her head every time I saw her. "You're a real Mother Hen now!" she teased me. 

Among our wedding gifts were three lamps for me and one eye patch for Glen... 

******* 

Our wedding present from Betty, Clara, and the rest of the volunteers was a one week honeymoon in the mountains. They had reserved a cabin, gave us money for food and gas, and, most importantly, they all took on a lot of hours at the House that week so that we could get away. I didn't realize it, but Glen hadn't taken a week off in 3 years. That would have to change! 

The wedding was a late morning ceremony, giving us time to drive to the mountains by nightfall. Glen unpacked the car while I took stock of the cabin. It was well supplied, so once we brought in the groceries we had bought, we were all set for a week. I went into the bedroom and looked around nervously. I pictured Glen and I on the bed, and despite my nerves I felt myself tingling with anticipation. 

Glen walked up behind me and put his arms around me. I leaned back into him and sighed. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked. 

"Tired. Nervous. Happy. A lot of things," I answered him. 

Glen kissed my neck and said, "Me too," he said with a yawn. "It's been a long day." Glen had driven most of the 6 hours we spent in the car. We stopped for a late dinner an hour before getting to the cabin, so it was almost 11pm and our bellies were full. The more I looked at the bed, the more I wanted to sleep. 

Glen opened our bags and pulled out a few things. "How tired are you?" he asked. 

"Pretty tired," I said honestly, "but we can still..." 

"I'm exhausted, Dottie. I could and I want to, but there will seldom be times when I don't feel that way. As much as I can't believe I'm saying this, I'd rather sleep right now than have tired, sleepy sex for our first time." 

"Then let's just go to bed...for sleep, I mean. We've got all week," I said, relieved by his suggestion. I, too, wanted to finally consummate our marriage, but I wouldn't be as into it as I wanted to be. 

For the first time, we shared our nightly routines of changing clothes, brushing teeth, etc. It seemed normal and domestic. I crawled under the covers, and Glen joined me a few minutes later. I lay on my back, staring through the darkness at a ceiling I couldn't see. I could hear Glen's breathing next to me. After a few seconds, I heard him roll, then move closer to me. He put an arm around me, and I felt warmed by his touch. I rolled to my side and let him spoon behind me. Glen whispered a drowsy, "I love you," as we both were overtaken by sleep. 

******* 

When I awoke, the only light was a hint of blue out the window and the sun tried to break through the trees. I heard water running and realized that Glen wasn't in bed. It sounded like he was in the shower. I stretched out luxuriously, then hopped out of bed. I dropped my clothes as I got close to the bathroom, and stepped into the shower with Glen. I had never seen him without glasses- he looked younger. He was just soaping up his body, and he froze when he saw me. I was smiling shyly as Glen's eyes moved slowly down and up my body. 

"Wow, Dottie...w-" 

I surged forward and kissed him, the water running over our heads and down our faces. I put my hands on his waist, and Glen gripped my shoulders. He had been rinsing his mouth in the shower, so his morning breath wasn't as bad as mine. 

Glen broke our kiss and looked into my eyes as best as he could under the running water. "Is it OK if I..." 

"Yes. Yes, it's all OK." And to emphasize that point, I moved a hand down to his member. Since Glen wasn't built very big, I was surprised to find his penis to be noticeably larger than James'. I ran a soapy hand up and down his swiftly stiffening tool. 

"Let's skip the rest of the shower," he suggested, breathlessly. I reached behind myself and turned off the water. Glen grabbed his towel and rubbed his face. We both stepped out of the shower and dried off quickly. Glen's hardness was bouncing around as he rubbed his body with a towel. I hadn't gotten very wet during my short stay in the shower, so I was already on the bed when Glen got there. He wasted no time lying down next to me. 

"Dottie, I'm about crazy with lust right now, so I need you to tell me when to slow down, OK?" 

"Would you believe I don't really want you to slow down right now?" 

Glen raised an eyebrow questioningly. I smiled at him and answered his wordless question. "Glen, I like sex. It's not bad. I...I didn't like just being used for sex, but I don't get that feeling from you. So I'm kind of...looking forward to this. A lot." 

"Are you ready?" Unlike during my first time with James, I knew what that question meant this time, and I could honestly answer with a smile and a hearty nod of my head. I reached down to help line his cock up at my entrance, and I paused to appreciate the warmth of it in my grip. Glen took advantage of that pause by kissing my nipple and teasing it to stiffness with his tongue. But once I had his tip in between my folds, Glen lifted his head an looked into my eyes. He started pushing in slowly, and I moved my hips around a little to help. He worked in and out of me with just his tip until we could hear and feel that my wetness was making me ready for him to push more. 

With a gasp, Glen was quickly seated all the way inside me. I took a few deep breaths, a little surprised by the fullness of his size. Glen had been looking in my eyes as he pushed in, but once he was fully inside, he closed his eyes and trembled. He held that position for so long that I got a little worried. 

"Did you forget what to do next?" I joked. 

"No," he whispered, then cleared his throat. Opening his eyes again, he shook his head and smiled. "It's just amazing. You're amazing. This feels so perfect. I might not be able to wait for you this first time." 

"Don't worry about it. I can't...I never cum from sex. Just...you know...from your mouth." 

"Well," he said with a gasp, "I'll be happy to try to teach you otherwise this week." With that, he started a slow rhythm, slower than I had ever experienced. I put my hands on his smooth back and thought, Such a sweet guy. But I've had sex a lot, even in less than a year of marriage- it just doesn't do it for me. I hope he's not too disappointed at the end of the week. 

Glen was anything but disappointed that morning, though. We knew it would be quick, and to his credit he delayed the inevitable for longer than I thought possible, but even that slow rhythm was pushing him towards his release. Most of the time, he kept himself propped up over me, and we both took advantage of that position to look down and admire the naked body opposite our own. 

He kept leaning down to kiss my breasts, which formed goosebumps at his attentions. Meanwhile, I was observing his chest and stomach. His belly was soft but not fat. When I rubbed it with my hands, I could feel the tightness of his muscles just underneath. His chest showed signs of his hidden strength, and I would later come to learn that he had a regular exercise routine to keep in shape. I enjoyed watching the different muscles expand and contract as his whole body was engaged in his thrusting. 

It wasn't long after he entered me, however, that he lowered his whole body, resting on top of mine. There was a comfortable familiarity to that masculine weight pressing down on me. His elbow on the bed kept me from being squished, but he was close enough that my hardened nipples were sent little shocks of excitement to my core as his chest rubbed against them. I heard the tell-tale sounds of quickened breathing, and Glen's hands searched frantically for something to hold. Hey ultimately landed on my hips, giving him the leverage for a few final thrusts. 

Glen grunted and cried out softly as he approached his peak. "Ooh, baby you feel so amazing...ooohhh fffu-... Mmmmph... hngh, HNGH... I can't believe...Oh GOD!" I smiled thinking that I was seeing a side of the pastor that no one else ever saw. He was still a man, a man who loved sex and who would cum with a shout, his cock pressed deep inside his wife, pulsing and throbbing, just as he was now. 

As Glen slowed down and just held his still-hard tool inside me, I rubbed his back and kissed his neck. My hands wandered down to his butt cheeks, which were then soft and curved. When he would again push into me a little, I could feel them tighten, and I would squeeze them gently in response. Once he caught his breath, Glen pulled out and lay on his side next to me. 

"Dottie, is it OK for me to touch you, to use my fingers to help you?" 

"Now?" 

"Yeah. Are you even a little worked up right now?" 

"I'm pretty worked up, yeah, but J-...but I'm not used to that right after sex." 

"To me it's still a part of sex," he said, slipping his hands across my thigh. His fingers circled around my lips and moved up and down my slit. I was worked up, even more than I usually was after sex. The long time without, the excitement of being with Glen for the first time, and the soothing tempo of our love-making had gotten me wanting more attention down there. Glen seemed to know just how to help. His fingers danced around my clit, moving away and coming back as tension built up inside me. 

When my breathing quickened and my thighs started clenching around his hand, Glen took a nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. My hand jerked up and wrapped around his head, holding him there. My other hand rubbed around my belly, and the multitude of sensations sent me crashing into orgasm. Glen slipped two fingers into my entrance just as I started cumming, and I felt my walls clench around them. I cried out each time I exhaled, my breaths sounding high-pitched. 

"Ehhhn... Ehhhh!... aaAAHHH!" 

Glen released my breast and put his mouth by my ear. He whispered to me as I came, "So beautiful...so sexy...so special...so strong...so wonderful...I love my wife...Dottie, you are amazing..." I closed my eyes as the sensations continued- less intense but still making my legs shake. My cum ended with a laughing exhale. I felt ecstatic, above the clouds. Even as I floated back down and felt Glen's arms around me, I still couldn't even take in my surroundings. 

Still panting, I asked Glen, "Can we do that again this week?" 

He laughed and said, "We can do that again this morning! But have mercy on a hungry man- let's go make breakfast." 

"In a minute, baby. Give me a minute. I'm not ready to leave this bed." 

"Well, you won't be saying good-bye to it. Just say, see you again soon." 

******* 

We spent the week alternating between appetites- sating our hunger for food, then quenching the fires of lust. We took a few walks through the woods and we talked a lot, yes. But much to our surprise, sex dominated our honeymoon. I guess I had expected to talk about work and other things a lot- the kind of stuff we normally did. And Glen expected that I wouldn't be as interested in sex as he was. 

"I'm going to suggest sex every time I want it," he told me that first morning, "and you always have the freedom to say no without fearing that you'll upset me. I'm just going to be very up front with my desires, and I very much desire you." 

I wasn't used to that kind of situation. James never really let me say no. I never did say it, but partly because I knew...or feared...how he might respond. He made me feel like sex was his right and my duty whenever he wanted it. Strangely enough, that was similar to what Glen believed, too- that sex was a mutual right and a mutual duty in marriage. "But we both try to make sure that we don't make the other person feel that way about it," he said. "If we're doing well, it feels like a mutual privilege and a mutual pleasure." 




Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 02



I fully experienced the mutual pleasure aspect of it during our honeymoon. Glen jokingly kept a tally of pebbles in two cups by the bed. One cup for each of us, one pebble for each orgasm. He said we should try to see who could get the other one's cup the fullest. I loved that game, mostly because it meant that Glen was working extra hard to bring me pleasure. Unlike James, who would "reward" me when I had "earned" it, Glen took delight in leading me to peak after peak. He used his fingers, his mouth, and by mid-week, his cock. 

One evening, after we had spent the afternoon hiking in the woods and then cooking our dinner over a fire, Glen was working his talented fingers around my clit. As usual, he would bring me closer and closer, then back off. The tension would build and build until I told him I'd had enough. But that evening, he didn't listen. He backed off again, then positioned himself over me and pushed inside. I was a little frustrated at his out-of-character insensitivity. But he only thrust for half a minute or so, then pulled out and started rubbing me again. 

He repeated that over and over. The frustration and tension and desire was becoming unbearable. Then one time, instead of getting over me, he pulled me on top of himself. I straddled him and he guided his rock hard shaft into my over-prepared tunnel. Pulling me down and lifting his hips a bit, I felt contact with my clit. Glen guided me back and forth a few times until I realized (and why had I never experienced this before?) that I could rub my clit against him. After a minute of building up again, I felt ready to cum. I didn't even notice Glen's strained face below me. I wasn't the only one frustrated by the process of building and pausing, building and pausing. 

I moved my hips down, pressing my clit as roughly as I could against his pubic bone. Glen pulled out and thrust up a few times, then started cumming with a subdued shout. He tried to hold me still as he came, but I was too close to my own release. With another few thrusts and wiggles of my own, I felt it finally happen. My back arched up and my head went down onto Glen's chest. I tried to squeeze my legs together, but I was straddling Glen, so I felt his solid legs between mine. My walls clenched tight and found themselves embracing a firm, pulsing rod. My hands gripped shut but were stopped by his shoulders, where they had been resting. In every way, my body seized up and found Glen there, a most welcome presence inside my body. 

Glen, meanwhile, once I had started cumming took hold my hips and pulled me down as hard as he could. He released deep inside me and felt my entrance tightening around his base. We both groaned and shouted and gasped, our faces close together, our pleasure feeding off each other's. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes as I lay there on top of him. He softened inside me and slipped out. I felt his member slide along my inner thigh until it was resting between his legs. It did what I felt like I was doing- deflating, collapsing, going to a state of well-earned rest. 

When I was able to talk, I mumbled through my hair into Glen's ear, "You did it." 

He got out a single, breathy laugh and said, "You...We did it. Hell, it happened. I'm just glad we were both there when it did." 

I groaned a happy noise and rolled onto my side, landing next to Glen. "Is it too early to sleep?" I asked. 

"It's our honeymoon. There's nowhere to be tomorrow. If you sleep, I'll be right there with you." 

A few minutes later, I was curled up naked in my husband's arms, listening to his breath as he slipped into his dreams. Did I love him? Yes. Was it the romantic kind of love? Not yet. Was I attracted to him? Not exceptionally, but I enjoyed sex with him and I found my desire for him growing- growing by leaps and bounds that week, especially. Sex was great, though a lot of that was just the excitement of sex itself and not necessarily connected to Glen as my partner. But I knew a little of how the human brain works, and just having him present when I was experiencing that pleasure made a deep connection in my subconscious. And if that happened over and over...I could definitely see how bonded I would feel to him in a few years. 

But no need to think about the years ahead. For the time being, I was content. I was, to my own surprise, a happily married woman.



Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 03



My love for Glen grew over the years. At some point, I realized that the mushy love songs I heard on the radio were starting to make sense. I could relate to those romantic feelings at times. My commitment to Glen came first, but love was there on the heels of commitment. By our fifth anniversary, I felt more strongly attached to him and more deeply in love with him than ever before.

It was around that time that Daddy died after a stroke. It was sudden and sad and very, very hard. I lost that most formative of presences from my life, but having Glen made that transition bearable. It was like Mama said: Daddy stuck around until he knew I was in good hands, then he felt free to leave. Irwin and his family were looking to move at that time, and mama asked them to move into the old house with her. They had a home and she had family close by- it worked out well.

I had completed my Master's Degree in Social Work and had moved right along towards a PhD. Glen supported me all the way- financially, emotionally- whatever I needed, he supplied. He continued as a Pastor, taking over more of the church responsibilities when Pastor Ed passed away. His new responsibilities left more of the Horton House work to me. Balancing that job and my PhD studies made for a busy few years. 

Kids never entered the picture- not that we were preventing that. And goodness knows we had enough sex to ensure that there was the opportunity for something to catch. But for whatever reason, I never conceived. There were seasons of sadness and grief over that, but there was also the recognition that if we had kids, we wouldn't be able to do keep doing all the good things we loved doing. 

And yes, the sex was frequent and it was good. It just got better and better as we got to know each other's body. Glen was patient and considerate and he never ceased to talk about how sexy I was. For my part, I grew to love his face and everything attached to it. As he moved into his 40's, his body softened up and he put on a little weight around the middle. His balding was impossible to hide and flecks of white began appearing in his beard.

One evening, we were in our marriage bed after being apart for a week. I was on top of Glen, trying to grind myself to a much-needed cum. Glen was looking up at me with his silly smile, and I knew from experience that he was probably just admiring the way my boobs jiggled when I was in that position. He put his hands up to them, cupping the and pressing them gently into my rib cage. He knew I liked that, and when his palms started twisting a little, the friction added that last touch I needed. I stayed upright through my cum, trembling and convulsing and giving Glen a little show. As much as he preferred to hold me during sex from beginning to end, he did appreciate getting to see my body react sometimes. 

As I lowered myself down onto him and slowed my breathing, he slowly thrust up into me and said, "You're just as beautiful now as you were 10 years ago when I met you."

"You have to say that, dear. I'd strangle you otherwise."

"But I mean it. Your body is still exciting and perfect and amazing. I wish I did a better job making my body something you could enjoy."

"Oh, love, you don't need to worry about that. I'm more attracted to you now than I was when we got married."

"So you say, but you must have some odd tastes for that to be true. This old body has lost most of its aesthetic value over the years."

I straightened back up and began undulating my hips, helping him to get the fuller strokes he liked so much. "Honey, I did not marry you because I wanted something pretty to look at. You're handsome enough that I don't mind looking at you- don't mind at all. But that's not what makes your body so physically and sexually attractive to me." I pushed down hard on him as I said the word sexually and Glen grunted in appreciation.

"What's the big attraction, then?" he asked, addressing my breasts more than my face. I smiled.

"Because no matter how your body looks, I love what it does to me." With that, I leaned down and began kissing him. I let Glen take over thrusting, knowing he would prefer that as he got closer. He broke our kiss and said between breaths, "If it's even half as good as what your body does to me, then I can totally understand that sentiment." I just laughed through closed lips, holding on to my lover's body as he finally found his release in me.

******* 

A few years later, I completed my doctoral dissertation, secured my PhD, and quickly found a position as a professor. It was at a university a few hours away, but I was able to arrange my schedule so that I would be there for 3 days and 2 nights every week during the school year. That lasted a year, but the commute was too taxing. A position at the school near my home was opening, and I was able to get on the short list for that job. When I described to them how my role at the Horton House could be used as a long-term internship and research opportunity for students in the Sociology Department, I knew I was offering something no other candidate had. 

I was living a good life. I was teaching something I was passionate about, I was working in a ministry that I cared about, and I shared my life with a husband that I respected and loved. I lived happily in that state for several years, until one event pushed me onto the path that would determine my future.

Late one winter evening, Glen called me from his office at the church. He asked me to hurry over- he needed help with someone. We lived only a block away, so a few minutes later, I was sitting next to a bruised and bloody young woman. She had been hit several times in the face and was not warmly dressed. She had been on the street, running from her husband, and when she saw the light on at the church, she came looking for help. Glen knew well enough not to be alone with a woman, even at the church, so he called me.

The young lady refused to let us call the police, though I very nearly did so against her wishes. Once she had calmed down and was sipping on a mug of hot chocolate, she told us a little of her story. She had been arguing with her husband. It was nothing new- they fought a lot. He spent money they didn't have, he suspected her of being unfaithful- it was nothing we hadn't heard from a lot of girls at the House. 

"I told him I was leaving. I finally had enough. I told him that a real man wouldn't treat me the way he was. Wouldn't say the things he did. A-a-a-nd..." she started choking up again. I motioned for Glen to get me another box of tissues to replace the one that was almost gone. As he handed it to me, she continued.

"And he told me he could show me what a real man was like. I tried to run out the door, but he knocked me over...and he kicked me." She gingerly touched the side of her face, where a large bruise had formed.

"He...he pulled off my pants and made me...he forced me to...he hurt me..." Just as she was about to cry, her eyes glazed over and her voice lost emotion. It was like she had disconnected to protect herself. I'd seen it before.

"He raped you," I said.

"No...no...he's my husband...we're married..."

"It can still be rape, dear." Glen sat behind his desk, his eyes closed, probably in prayer or deliberation. He knew he shouldn't be too involved in this conversation.

"But when I cried, he hit me. He kept yelling, 'Who's a real man now, bitch?' And when he finished, he just stood up like nothing had happened and said, 'Don't talk any more shit like that again, you hear?' And when I could get up again, I just walked out the door. I didn't know where I was going, but I just wanted to get away."

"You've come to the right place, dear...what can I call you?"

"Hope. My name is Hope."

"That's a lovely name, Hope. Will you let us help you?"

"Can I just stay the night somewhere, just until he calms down?"

"We can do better than that, Hope. We can get you away from him and help you be safe."

"No...I...I shouldn't do that. He just needs to calm down. I shouldn't have said some of those things."

It took some convincing to get her to agree that it wasn't her fault that she'd been beaten and raped, but no amount of convincing would get her to talk to the police or to consider leaving her husband. We took her into our home that night- the Horton House was bound by some laws that wouldn't let us bring people in without a formal process. She stayed the night, and I tended to her injuries as best as I could. In the morning we had a nice breakfast and she seemed happy. Were it not for the bruises and cuts on her face, you wouldn't have had any inkling of the trauma she had just gone through.

We pleaded with her to stay for a few days, but she wouldn't hear of it. She seemed embarrassed that she had even come by at all. In the morning, she went home, not even allowing us to walk her back. I gave her a coat to wear, and we gave her an address card for the church. On the back I wrote my name and phone numbers- home, Horton House, and campus office- making her promise to call if she needed help again.

After she left, Glen and I talked for a while about it. There was a battered women's shelter further in the city, about 7 or 8 miles away. But in the neighborhoods around us, there was such a great need. Couldn't we do something here, locally? Couldn't we do something, or several things, to help these women before some of them ended up in jail...or worse? As usual, I had the ideas and Glen would find ways to make them work. As visions and plans and possibilities rolled off the top of my head, Glen would assess their feasibility. Some of them could actually work, he thought. They were dreams for another day- for something to consider down the road.

A week later, we got a visit that would jump start those plans. It was another late evening, and I was at Glen's office in the church, doing some reading while I waited for him to close up for the night. We heard knocking on the glass door. I glanced down the hallway and saw a police officer. I called to Glen, and he got to the door just after I had opened it.

They had found a young woman on the street not far away. It was Hope- raped and beaten. She was wearing my coat and clutching the card we'd given her. As it later turned out, her husband had pulled the same stunt again, even more violently. She left, intending to either find a phone and call us or walk to the church- no one knew. She'd sustained a severe head injury and was confused. She didn't make it far, passing out on the sidewalk. To a passer-by, she looked like another homeless person. Someone at a bus stop saw the blood on her face and called the police. She had no I.D. on her, the only clue was our church's card with my name and phone numbers on it.

We asked to go see her, but the officer looked at us sadly and said she hadn't even made it to the hospital. Hope had died- alone and without anyone to help her. I was angry and Glen wept. We didn't know her last name and could only give the officer a general idea of what area she lived in. We later learned that we had given them enough to go on, and they found, arrested, and finally charged the husband. But it was too late for Hope.

Over the next year, Glen arranged for the church to move into a smaller building more suited to its size and the church itself was converted into a battered women's shelter. And that was the beginning of Hope's Advocate- a place that could advocate for women like Hope- a place to be a listening ear but also their voice. We absorbed the work of the Horton House and networked well enough to become the "go-to" place for police, social workers and other churches to send women in need. Glen had a good reputation in the community, and we became a place that people knew they could trust. 

It was such a big undertaking that Glen devoted his full time to it, with some help from me, of course. From the moment it opened its doors, Hope's Advocate felt like the thing we had been working towards for our whole lives together. As individuals and as a couple, we had been prepared for exactly this, and it was the job that would occupy Glen for the rest of his life. 

******* 

The rest of his life, however, turned out to be not very long. Hope's Advocate had been up and running for only a few years when I noticed something was wrong with Glen. Only in his mid-50's, he started spacing out. He started feeling numb on one side, and he began losing his balance. The doctors did their thing and found a tumor in his brain stem. Long story short, he was facing a few months of slowly losing his ability to move. It would be painless, quick, and unstoppable. A second and third opinion confirmed the diagnosis.

I was in my mid 40's, enjoying the exciting phase of a new and worthwhile venture. I was experiencing the fruit of years of study and labor and preparation and I was seeing results in our community that I had only dreamed about when I was in college. But the only thing that mattered was that my husband, whom I loved dearly, would be dying soon.

Glen handled it as only he could- with jokes and comforting words and a happy resignation to his fate. Watching us process it, you would have thought I was the one dying. But really, life without Glen was more frightening to me than death itself. I didn't know who I was without him.

Shortly after the diagnosis, we were at home one evening and I asked Glen what he wanted to do before he died. It was late spring, so it was a convenient time to resign from my job at the university. I didn't want to think too much about it, but I would probably need to take over for Glen once he was gone. We were told we could probably expect about a month of slightly reduced functionality before he wouldn't be able to get out anymore. I wondered if there was any traveling or adventuring that he wanted to do in that time. 

With a weary smile, he told me, "All I want to do is make love to my stunning young bride for as long as that's possible and make sure that she is going to be well-cared-for after I'm gone."

"Typical man. I'm giving you a blank check for anything you can imagine to do, and you just want to have sex," I tried to joke. He laughed softly with me. 

"It's not just the sex, Dottie. It's...it's celebrating the life I've had...and still have...with you. Sex for me is the best way to do that, because I'm such a human creature. I need that tangible feeling."

Then I said, "I'll see what I can do about finding a stunning young bride, but you may have to settle for me."

Glen leaned in and kissed me, then said, "Dottie, the more I know you, the more beautiful you become."

"Well," I responded, "if you're going to sweet talk me..." I stood up and unbuttoned my shirt. Glen watched in eager fascination as I slipped out of my bra and pushed my pants down past my hips. As I stepped out of them, Glen reached out from his chair and grabbed me. Pulling me towards himself, he started kissing my stomach and ribs. Pulling me onto his lap, he kissed my breasts and collarbone. 

I knew I wasn't the woman he had met 20 years earlier. My breasts were beginning to sag, a little extra weight lingered around my waist, my skin had lost the smooth flawlessness of youth. But the sparkle in his eyes when he watched me undress always convinced me- more so than words ever could- that he was still enraptured with my beauty, such as it was.

As his lips traveled all around my upper body, I cherished each kiss. The finality of death forced me to focus on and appreciate each moment. Soon there would be no more kisses. But until then, I would get drunk on them.

I yanked Glen's shirt off of him and panted impatiently, "Pants off." He stood, forcing me off his lap, and we were quickly naked. I looked at the kitchen table, but thought better of it. I wanted comfort. Glen was one step ahead of me, and he pulled me onto the bed. As we rubbed our bodies together, lips moving along familiar paths, I put my hand on the spot here his head met his neck. I thought about the horrible thing growing inside there and how it had silently and quickly overturned our lives. I couldn't stop the tears.

Glen just held me tight and shushed me, soothing me. Not wanting to let cancer ruin the good moments we had left, I rebelled against the desire to curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep. Taking Glen's cock in my hand, I massaged it to full strength, then rolled onto my back. Glen rolled with me, letting me line him up with my slit. I wasn't as wet as I needed to be, but Glen's tip at my entrance moved gently, prodding me, inviting me. I kissed him and focused on his hands that were gently massaging my breasts. 

Before I knew it, his crown was past my entrance. With small motions in and out, Glen coaxed enough arousal from me to push the rest of the way in. I felt my walls spread out to receive him. I wanted him deeper that day, so I raised my legs up to wrap around his back. Locking my ankles together, I felt him slide in just...a bit...more. That little bit more evoked a soft groan from both of us.

Glen pulled back and held himself with just his tip at my entrance, then after a few seconds he pushed in again. Holding deep inside me, he found my lips and started kissing me again. His arms were wrapped around me, one hand on my hip and another under me, gripping my shoulder. He pulled back again, lingering at my entrance, moving his tip around just the slightest bit. Then pushing in again, deep, slow, firm. Feeling my walls yield to him, knowing that my back was arching out of instinct. He continued that until I was hypnotized by it. Such a slow... drawn out... sensual... constant... rhythm. I was loving it. There was no urgency, just a steady pushing, holding, pulling, and waiting.

"Glen, dear, when you said you wanted to make love to me as long as possible, I didn't think you meant all in one night...not that I'm complaining."

He half laughed, his face next to mine. Still thrusting slowly, though a little faster, he responded, "Just a little longer, my love. This is my favorite thing in the world. The one thing I can't bear giving up- not just the physical act. It's you. I never feel so completely close to you as I do when we're like this. And that moment of entering you, that's the highlight of any day. Feeling your body welcome mine, knowing we're uniquely and completely joined. It's the closest thing to heaven that I know here on earth. A feeling of absolute welcome and belonging and love."

I was ready to cry when he spoke of heaven, but his movements sped up a little more, and I responded with some of my own. Putting my feet flat on the bed, I raised my hips a little and felt the welcome friction of his body pressing my clit between us. Our bodies automatically adjusting, responding to silent requests until we found just the right way for him to thrust while I pressed against him. I started feeling my body storing up the tension that would soon need to be released. 

"Baby...baby it's feeling good," I whimpered. "Baby can you wait another minute? I'm close, baby." Glen was pushing faster, but he responded by slowing down and holding close, letting me find the contact I needed. It took less than a minute, and I dropped my hips back to the bed when I was overtaken by the colors and chills and uncontrolled moaning of my cum. My hands gripped his arms that were strong around me, and I tried to look up at his eyes. My body betrayed me, though, and I could only spasm and look wildly around, a victim of my own great pleasure.

Once I was well into my orgasm, Glen sped up again. He held deep a few times, enjoying the way my walls milked him. Despite being so close, it still took him a few more minutes of frenzied thrusting to cum. I worried he might overdo it, but he kept mumbling, "So close...so close...Oh, Dottie, I'm so close..." He pulled out to the tip one more time and did a dozen shallow thrusts. His sounds raised in pitch until he pushed all the way back in, one last time, and released. He cried out, "Oooh-ho-oooo, Yes!" when he finally swelled inside me. I wondered how many times I had felt that intimate sensation of his seed filling me, and I mourned to think that the remaining number of times I would feel it would be far too few. 




Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 03



Glen's voice brought me out of my thoughts. "Heaven," he said. "Your body feels like heaven, my love."

******* 

We had less time than the doctors thought. Glen degenerated quickly. He was only mobile for another two weeks, but in that time, we ensured that all his affairs were in order. During those last two weeks, we made love a few more times, and when his body didn't allow for that, I used my mouth to bring him a hint of that intimacy. Once he lost most of his mobility, it was only another few weeks under hospice care before Glen was gone.

I mourned him in my own way, but the sensible side of me got right down to business. I threw myself into Hope's Advocate, devoting my finances, my passion, my energy, and my time into helping as many hurting women as I could. I had as many volunteers as I could handle and even hired a few nurses for the clinic we set up. After another ten years of growth, I was ready to hire an assistant, preferably someone I could groom as a replacement. And that's when I met Gina, whose story you may have already heard. It was Gina who eventually created the mess I'm in now, and time will tell if I'm going to bless her or blame her for it. It was Gina who brought Thomas into my life.



Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 04



Glen had been gone for 15 years. I was in my mid-50's, and the shelter had grown into a whole nest of services. We worked with the homeless, we had a crisis pregnancy center, we had a food pantry, a weekly free clinic, a GED training center, and Gina had developed a vocational training center. A number of our women had gone from being homeless to being small business owners. Gina was a whiz at convincing donors to give micro-loans to get these girls started, and most of the donors never wanted the loans back. They just reinvested in the next small business idea Gina pitched to them. 

Once a quarter, we had a big weekend planning time with all the volunteers and staff. We'd update on what had happened in the past 3 months and we'd work together to plan the next steps. On the first evening of the weekend, we had a big meal with all the families of our staff and volunteers- sort of a thank-you for their sacrifices. We had about 45 people there, split into 3 big groups. It was a truly magnificent feast. Andrew, Gina's husband, couldn't stop praising the food. 

"Dottie, this is incredible!" he said, his mouth still full. 

"Don't look at me- I just hire people. It's Macy you should thank. I only wish we could have her services full-time instead of only once a month." Just then, a smiling, middle-aged redhead came in the room with another bowl of food.

"Macy, you have a gift," Andrew told her. 

"I know," she said with a smile. 

"Seriously," Andrew went on, "why haven't you started your own catering business or something?" 

"Oh, I don't have a head for business," Macy answered sweetly. "Besides, working at the restaurant is just fine for me while I've still got a little one in the house." 

"Well, you let me know when you're ready, and I'll take care of the business side of things. Ernst can quit his job and watch the kids," Andrew said, already reaching for second helpings. Ernst looked up from his own plate and just shrugged as if to say, Why not? 

Gina stood up and grabbed the bowl from Macy's hands. "You should sit down, honey. This meal is for you guys, too." 

"Oh, I'm almost done. I just need to check on dessert," Macy said, trotting back to the kitchen. 

"You just want to get in there and steal her recipe book," Andrew joked to Gina, who was sitting back down. 

"I do not." 

"Oh, I'm sure Gina is a fine cook," I said. 

Andrew laughed, "Oh, yes. For as long as I've known her, Gina has been a busy little bee in the kitchen." 

"Stop it, Andrew," Gina warned playfully. 

He didn't stop. "Why, her recipes are good enough to be online!" 

"Stop it!" she said again, leaning over to try to cover his mouth. 

Andrew was trying to say something else, but his own laughter and Gina's hand over his mouth kept him from getting it out. Apparently there was some joke there none of us was getting. Then with a squeal and a shout, the two of them fell out of the chair and onto the floor. They lay there laughing for a minute, and Ernst looked at me and asked, "You really let that woman run the show around here?" 

"Only under my careful supervision," I said, watching the two of them climb back into their chairs, panting and smiling. Just then, Macy came out and took her seat. 

There was no agenda for the evening, and I tried to avoid bringing up business. Gina, however, had a habit of switching from playful to serious at the drop of a hat, and during a lull in the conversation, she said, "I heard that the emergency clinic over on Polk Street is leaving. The whole shopping center was bought out." 

"That's a shame," I said. "Where are they moving?" 

"Not anywhere near here, I think. I didn't even recognize the street name of their new address." 

"Folks around here need a place like that," Andrew said. "Don't you think so, Dottie?" 

I put down my fork and looked at the two of them. "Don't play dumb with me, kids. I can tell you're cooking something up. Out with it." 

Gina and Andrew looked at each other, then Gina answered, "What if we were the clinic? What if, instead of a weekly free clinic, we had a daily one? We probably couldn't do 24 hours, like the emergency clinic did, but we could a least have something." 

I looked at Andrew and said, "I assume you have some thoughts on this, too?" Andrew owned a body shop, but what most people didn't know was that he used to work at a bank and could have had quite a career in finance. 

"I've looked into it, if that's what you mean. You could probably get a lot of equipment and supplies donated. Most of the basic medicines you'd need on hand come free or very cheap to charitable groups like this. You've already got 2 nurses on staff..." 

Macy jumped in, "And one of your nurses, Denise, has been wanting to get her Nurse Practitioner's License, which would really be useful at a clinic like that..." 

I looked down the table at Denise, who, with a mouthful of bread held up her hands and said, "I'm not in on this conspiracy! I'm innocent!" 

Gina, who had been watching and listening, couldn't resist taking the conversation back over. "So Dottie, the main expense would be getting a full-time doctor. We couldn't run something like this just by having doctors volunteer their time. We'd need someone there consistently." 

"But there's no way we could pay a doctor's salary," I said, knowing she had already thought of that. 

"Not a typical one, no. But what if we find someone who is willing to work for what we can pay?" 

I laughed, a little cynical. "You find someone like that, Gina, and we'll talk." 

Gina smiled and bounced in her chair. "So I can start looking?" 

"You can look. But don't make anyone any promises." 

******* 

Gina looked and looked. She used every connection we had through our network. She had Ernst ask around at the Mental Health Institute where he worked, she called the university, she sent letters to donors. After a few months, I wasn't sure she would find anything at all. 

"Try asking actual doctors," I suggested. 

Gina gave me a sharp look. 

"No, I'm serious, dear. Maybe someone who is looking to retire from a private practice, but who still has enough gas in the tank to keep working. You keep looking for younger people, but they're mostly so piled up under debt that they can't imagine working for what you're offering." 

Gina took my advice, but continued to come up empty. I was glad we hadn't gone forward with any plans until we had a doctor committed. Otherwise, we'd have a clinic that we couldn't use. 

******* 

Six months after getting the green light to start searching, Gina called me. She was too excited to say hi, but instead jumped right out with, "I found someone! He's it! I know it!" 

"Gina, you didn't promise him anything, did you?" 

She calmed down...a little. "No, Dottie, you know me better than that. But I really think he's the right guy for the job. You need to meet him." 

"OK, OK. You know my schedule better than I do. Set it up." 

******* 

Two days later, Gina brought him into my office on a late afternoon. He was tall, thin, and darker-skinned, clearly some form of South Asian. I rose to meet him, and I still had to look up to find his eyes. When I did, I paused- they were soft and a deep, dark brown. My business smile gave way to a genuine smile. He extended his hand to shake mine and said in a deep voice, "I'm Thomas." 

"Dottie. Please have a seat." Gina, who was standing behind him, caught my eye and fanned herself with some papers while looking at Thomas. She mouthed, "He's hot!" She sat down off to the side, letting Thomas sit across from me at my desk. 

I asked some preliminary questions- where he was from, where he had studied, what experience he had. He was from Canada but had studied and gotten licensed in the U.S. He had been working in an ER for a few years but wasn't planning to do that long-term. He was young (by my standards), only in his mid-30's. He was single and his family mostly lived in Canada. 

"Can I ask your ethnic origin? It's irrelevant, but I'm curious." 

Thomas smiled, showing teeth that looked too straight and white to be natural. "I'm Indian, but my family has lived in North America since before I was born." 

"Ah," I said. "Which explains why your accent is Canadian and not something else." 

"I don't know what you're talking aboot, eh?" he joked. Gina laughed, but I could tell she was exaggerating a bit. I think she was trying to make Thomas feel welcome. 

We talked for a while about the position and what it would be like, his future plans, his level of interest, the philosophy of Hope's Advocate and anything else I could think of. Gina hadn't given me any paperwork on him and there was no application, so I was flying a bit blind. 

Once I felt like I knew all I needed to, I thanked him for his time. "Gina," I asked, "do you have all the information you need?" 

"Not yet, but I didn't want to make him start gathering everything before I got the thumbs up from you." 

"Well, go ahead and have him start. Copies of diplomas, transcripts, references, background check- you know the drill." 

Gina smiled at me and said to Thomas, "Follow me. I'll give you a little tour of the place and then let you know what all I need, if you want to apply, of course..." Their voices faded into the distance as my door closed behind them. 

I sat down to continue some paperwork. A half-hour later, Gina tapped on my door, then entered without waiting. She alone had that right. 

"Sooo...what do you think?" she asked, plopping herself down into the chair Thomas had occupied earlier. 

"I think he's a very nice, courteous, professional young man. If everything checks out, I'd be very interested in hiring him, but I'm still not sure that he is interested." 

"He seems very interested. You should have come with us on the tour, he was really excited about all that was going on." 

"Well, Gina, as you've learned by now, lots of people get excited about this, but not many convert that excitement into commitment." 

Gina frowned a little. "I know, Dottie. But I really think he's going to commit." Then she perked up and leaned in, putting her elbows on my desk. "Now, tell me what else you think of him." 

I pulled off my reading glasses and looked at Gina closely. "What do you mean?" 

"Dottie, come on! Tall...dark...handsome...doctor..." 

"Gina! You are a married woman!" 

"I'm not thinking about me, Dottie..." 

I looked at her in confusion. What on earth was she talking about? Gina raised her eyebrows suggestively, staring me down. I opened my mouth in shock and pointed to myself. Gina slowly nodded her head and smiled widely. I leaned forward and whispered harshly, "Gina! I'm 20 years older than him!" 

She leaned back and said, "Oh, come on! You've got more energy than I do, you look at least ten years younger than you are, he's very mature, and I've been telling you for years that you need to get out there. At least get laid!" 

"Gina, just because marriage has made you happy doesn't mean it's what everyone needs." 

Gina mumbled back, "I didn't say you needed to get married, I just said you need to get laid." 

"That's enough, Gina. Any more of that and you'd be making it inappropriate for us to hire him." 

"That's cheating, Dottie." 

"It's being professional, Gina. Don't let your hormones cloud your judgment." 

She stood up to leave. "Well, speaking of hormones..." I gave her a questioning look. She explained, "Macy and Ernst are watching our kids tonight. We take their 3 once a week and they take ours once a week." 

"Going out?" I asked. 

"Staying in," she said, and hurried away. 

I thought about how happy she had been since getting together with Andrew. Even a few kids hadn't stifled their passion for each other. And they made such a good team. In some ways, it reminded me of how Glen and I had worked well together. 

I thought about Gina's concern for my sex life, and I knew it was just because she cared. I did miss sex. I hadn't been with a man since Glen died, hadn't even touched a man other than in a handshake or hug. I missed sex, but not the act itself. Sex could be hurtful and painful, physically and emotionally. I didn't just want to get laid, I wanted to have someone who I wanted to have sex with. I missed having that kind of relationship where you wanted sex because of the person rather than wanting the person because of sex. 

******* 

That evening at home, I ran a warm bath, let down my hair and relaxed. I thought of Glen and our life together. I smiled to think about the unusual way that we had ended up together. He had known all along that we would fall in love after we got married, but I hadn't expected it, really. Rather than travel the typical (for our culture) path of lust-love-commitment, we had mixed everything up and gone commitment-lust-love. I liked the way it had worked out. 

Before long, my hand was between my legs. I sighed and leaned my head back onto the bath pillow. The bubbles hid any evidence of what I was doing, not that there was anyone to see it. I moved my fingers slowly up and down my folds, remembering times past. I thought of the first time I had cum during sex, when Glen had teased and teased and had finally gotten me so ready before pulling me onto him. I remembered wanting to do that over and over during our honeymoon, leaving us both sore and red when we got back from the cabin. 

I thought about after Daddy's funeral, how Glen and I had stayed a week with Mama to help her handle her grief and to deal with a lot of the logistics until Irwin and his wife moved in. I remembered staying in my old bedroom, cramped into the double bed I had slept in since I was a child. The night after the funeral, once Mama had gone to bed and Glen and I had cleaned up after all the visitors, Glen just held me and listened to my stories. Then, as so many people do after funerals, I wanted to feel alive and vibrant. I wanted to feel the full intensity of life's goodness. So I asked Glen to make love to me. 

I had straddled him and pulled off his clothes, starting to rush in my impatience to feel his skin against mine. With no preliminaries, I pushed myself down on him. I lay down, covering him with my body, striving to feel as much skin as I could. Warm skin, warm breath, life. We made love slowly that night, neither of us wanting to separate. Neither of us wanting to think that someday, one of us would bury the other. 

In the tub, I started pushing a finger just past my entrance- enough to make my heart race a little more as my palm pressed against my clit. The warm water on my flesh wasn't as good as feeling warm skin against me, but it still felt soothing. My mind searched my memory for sensual images to fuel my lust. The water started to splash as my legs and my hips began to move. I closed my eyes tighter and rolled my head back and forth a little. 

I remembered a time when Glen and I had bathed together. I sat between his legs and his fingers rolled along my clit. I pictured his hands sliding effortlessly along my soapy body. I remember the feel of his short beard tickling my neck and the sound of his breathing next to my ear. I heard a voice say, "So beautiful...so beautiful..." 

But it wasn't Glen's voice. Completely unbidden, Thomas' voice entered my fantasy. The hand that cupped my trembling breast was darker and and large. In my mind, two long arms wrapped around me, and in a few seconds my legs kicked up out of the water, splashing all around. Toes curled and then stretched out as I let out a strangled cry. I slipped down, my face almost going under the water. I caught myself with my hands on the side of the tub and held that position while my walls clenched open and shut, asking for something to fill their void. 

It was a short, intense orgasm, and once I was cooling down, I shivered to think that another man had entered my imagination so suddenly. Thomas was attractive. And he was intelligent, mature, and kind. But he was young. I would have stood a better chance if Gina had found a retiring doctor for our clinic. 

As I drained the tub and stepped out to dry myself, I looked in the mirror. The top half was steamed over, hiding my face. The view from the neck down was...acceptable. The only real indication of my age was the long silver hair that was visible falling over my shoulders. A healthy lifestyle and good genes had helped keep my body looking younger than my years. Most men my age would be very happy with it, but to a younger man...well, they probably had more attractive options. I didn't feel bad about that- it's just life. I grabbed my robe and headed to bed. 

******* 

All of Thomas' credentials checked out, his references were glowing, and in every way he seemed ideal. Still, I had a natural skepticism that such a promising young doctor intended to commit to our shelter, taking in a pay that was less than a third of what he could be making elsewhere. The whole process of finding, vetting, and hiring him was Gina's project from beginning to end, but I had the final say-so on new staff. So when Gina asked me to make it official, I hesitated. 

"Should we consider a female doctor instead? A lot of our patients will be women, and..." 

"And Denise and Kara will be there. If we're opening this clinic to the public, we should have at least one man on the medical staff," Gina countered. I was increasingly relying on her thoroughness. 

"Right, right...But what if he decides it's not for him? What if the idealism that brought him here wears off?" 

"Look at the contract he'll be signing. He gets a three month trial period, just like I did. During that time, he'll experience all our services, working in each department like a volunteer and shadowing you for a while. He'll work with Denise and Kara to order equipment and supplies. He'll also be advising Andrew and me on the final details of setting up the clinic, and we won't open the clinic until he's finished his three months and has signed a longer-term contract." 

I glanced over the contract, noting the clauses Gina had mentioned. "Well...I guess I can't find a reason to say no..." 

Gina tried to act professional, but the poor girl was a terrible actress. She wiggled with excitement, then said, "Now Dottie, you're going to have to have a very good working relationship with Thomas, so try to really get to know him. Spend time with him, talk to him...It'll be good for you and for making him feel more committed to Hope's Advocate." 

"And why do I get the feeling you've got ulterior motives for wanting me to talk to our good doctor?" 

"Because I do. I found you a smart, sexy, sweet doctor. And I'm going to find a way to get the two of you together." 

"You'll do no such thing! Gina, are you so blind? You could end up driving our doctor right out of town! We can't risk losing him over your desire to play cupid for an old woman. Swear to me, Gina, that you'll leave it alone." 

"But Dottie..." 

"Swear it, Gina," I said in my sternest voice. 

"Fine," she grumbled, getting up to leave. "But it's your loss." 

******* 

Gina supervised Thomas' transition into our system. Each week he volunteered in a different area, and either Gina or I (usually Gina) would spend an hour with him that day, asking and answering questions. He was quite professional and didn't seem to be put off by being required to work changing bed sheets or serving food. He got along well with the volunteers, most of whom didn't know he was going to be our new doctor. 

The process of setting up the clinic was going smoothly. Andrew knew the numbers, and Gina conquered everything else. We converted a wing of our living quarters to be the space for it, buying an old house adjacent to the church to serve as new living quarters. 




Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 04



Thomas and I got along well, but we only interacted a few times a week, and only in a professional capacity. He showed up again in my bath time and bedtime fantasies a few more times, though not of my own intention. Usually as I was getting myself close to a sweet release, his voice or his eyes would appear, guiding me as I crested the wave of my orgasm. It didn't affect how I related to him, though, and he certainly wasn't the first friend to pop up now and then to help my imagination. 

A few weeks before his three month trial period was up, Thomas told me he was ready to sign a long-term contract. I told him I was glad to hear that, but that I wanted to talk with him a little more about it. I really didn't understand what motivated him. And though in most cases, I trusted that believing in our cause would naturally follow after someone committed to it (like love had followed marriage with Glen), in Thomas' case, I felt too insecure to wait and see. 

Then, as luck would have it, he and I would be spending some time together that weekend. Gina had set up a big dinner for some of our most generous donors. It was going to be a black tie affair, and the three of us- Gina, Thomas and I- were going to be there, rubbing elbows and making an appeal for the remaining funds to supply our clinic with the equipment we needed. But as the date approached, Gina backed out, though for good reason. She and Andrew were adopting the baby of one of the girls who had come through our crisis pregnancy center, and the birth mother was having some complications. A C-section was schedule for the night of the banquet. So it would be Thomas and me. 

That afternoon, Gina was in my office, rushing me through the last business of the day. 

"What are you wearing tonight?" she asked. 

"Oh, I'll find something," I said. I hadn't thought about it. 

"Dottie! You...you need to take this seriously!" 

"I'll be fine, Gina. I've been to more than a few of these things over the years, you know that." 

"But..." I gave her a look that cut of her next line of argument. She waited a moment, then said, "Wear the sparkly black dress." 

"The what?" 

"The black dress with the silver sequins- you should wear that." 

"Oh, I don't know...I probably don't even fit into that one." 

"It'll fit fine. You just wore it last year. You look very sexy in it." 

"And just why do you want me to be sexy, Gina?" 

"Becauuuuuse...most of the big donors are men. You need to keep them so distracted that they won't notice your hand on their wallets." 

"Riiiight. Shouldn't you be more worried about Miranda's C-section tonight?" 

Gina's smile faded. "I am. I'm just trying to distract myself. You could at least indulge me." 

"Leave it be, Gina. I'm sure this evening will go just fine...for both of us. And it's time for me to head home and get ready. If I'm going to squeeze into that slinky black thing, I'm going to need to get started early." I winked at her as I stood to leave. 

Gina smiled, "Go get 'em, tiger!" 

"Don't you mean 'cougar'?" I joked. 

Gina answered with a feline roar as I walked out the door. 

******* 

Thomas had asked to pick me up that evening, though not out of any gentlemanly impulse, I'm sure. Parking would be limited and I lived right on his way to the venue. I was slipping on my shoes when the doorbell rang. I had just expected a text saying he was outside. Wasn't that how people did things these days? 

I ran down the steps and opened the door. We both stood there staring for a few seconds. Thomas was in a black tux with a green bow tie and vest. I suspected- a later confirmed- that they were from a friend's wedding that he had been in. The word that came to mind was dashing. The next word was yummy. The only thing that kept him from looking debonair was his expression. His eyes were wide open, his eyebrows raised high, his lips slightly parted. He was checking me out. 

Thomas was the first to speak. "Wow, Dottie. You look...elegant. Fantastic. I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair down." 

I blushed and thanked him. He was right- I always kept it up, usually in a stereotypical church-lady bun. It was just more convenient that way. But I knew that my silver hair perfectly matched the sequins on the dress. Since I wasn't going to be moving too much this evening, having my hair down was a nice change of pace. 

Thomas chuckled out of embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I just...am resisting the urge to touch your hair." 

"Well I'll remove the temptation for you. I need to grab one or two other things and I'll meet you at your car." 

He gave a short nod and walked back down the steps to the sidewalk. I grabbed my fancy handbag and threw in a few business cards, just in case. I glanced at the mirror to ensure that what little make-up I had applied was still as it should be, then headed out to the car. 

Thomas was waiting outside the passenger door, opening it for me when I got there. 

"You don't need to be all formal or anything. You've got the job, already," I teased him. 

"Dottie, the way you look demands this treatment," he said sincerely. I didn't put up a fuss. It was nice being treated this way, even if there wasn't a romantic element to it, there was a nice feel to being treated like a lady. I had long ago reconciled in my head the conflicting desires to be treated as an equal and to be treated special. For me, chivalry was not insulting or chauvinistic. It was a cultural celebration of our differences. And Thomas did a good job of it. 

As we drove, I had some last minute thoughts to go over with Thomas, making sure he knew what kind of questions to expect. To my delight, Gina had prepared him very well, and his own acumen made up for anything that hadn't been already discussed. In the evening traffic, we had about a 30 minute drive. 

"You can call me Tom, if you like," he said, as the business talk died down. 

"Oh? Is that what you prefer?" 

"Either way is fine. I go with Thomas in professional affairs, but friends call me Tom." 

"Well, Tom, I hope we can be friends." 

"Me too," he said softly. "By the way, this isn't the first time our paths have crossed. I doubt you remember, though." 

I'm usually pretty good at remembering people, even with all the folks that have passed through our doors over the years. But Tom wasn't ringing any bells, and I thought I would remember someone like him. 

He laughed at the way I was working to recall him. "Let me help you out," he said. "It was your last year teaching. I was a freshman and actually had a course with Doc Lock-up." 

"Doc Lock-up?" 

He glanced over at me, then looked back at the road. 

"You don't know?" 

I shook my head no, not realizing at first that he couldn't see me. He went on anyway. "Your nickname among the students- I assumed you knew. You had a few nicknames: Doc Lock, Doc Oc, and Doc Hot..." 

"What?" I asked, mixing my word with a laugh. 

"Well, Doc Hot is obvious- it was a bit sexist, I know, and considering the classes you taught on gender equity, it was a little ironic, too. Doc Lock was because you were rumored to have been an ex-con, and Doc Oc was because there was a crazy story that you once took out a guy's eye while you were in jail. So, like- ocular" 

"Oh, really?" I said with a smile. "Do tell." 

"I can't believe you never heard these. They said Doc Lock had been in lock-up, but she turned her life around, started studying and got a Bachelor's, Master's and PhD while in prison. She got out of jail and went straight to the university. You had a bit of a hard core attitude, so the story seemed plausible to a lot of people." 

I smiled, thinking about the rumors and how it may have helped me to command a level of respect from my students. "And to think, I just assumed everyone was impressed by my teaching," I said softly to myself. 

"Huh?" Thomas asked. 

"Nothing...I was just realizing how odd it is that I never knew about that." 

"Any truth to the rumors?" he asked, glancing over at me. 

"Well that is privileged information, young man," I said. 

"You'll tell me when I'm older?" he teased back. We were just pulling up to the venue- a converted mansion on the outskirts of town. It had a ballroom with an entirely glass ceiling- beautiful on a clear night. 

"I'll tell you when I think you can handle it." I normally didn't mind telling people about my past, but it seemed fun to tease Thomas about it. I liked the thought of him imagining some scandalous bad-ass history of me. 

The valet opened my door and we headed towards the ballroom. Thomas offered me his arm, which I thought was very considerate, but unnecessary. "Tom, you don't need to act like my date this evening. It's just fine for us to be here in a professional capacity." 

He squeezed my arm a little with his elbow and said, "Gina told me to treat you like royalty this evening." 

"Oh, Gina told you that, did she?" I had made her swear to back off. But before I could say some harsh things about Gina minding her own business, Thomas continued. 

"She said that by making you look more important and, well, desirable, it will give potential donors the impression that this is something more important than they realized, making them more likely to give." 

I couldn't help but laugh at that. She was right, I knew, but it was also just like Gina to use perfectly rational excuses to get me into a sexy gown and then have a handsome doctor treat me like a princess. It's all just good business, I could hear her saying...with a wink. 

******* 

The banquet was a wonderful time. I'm always a bit disoriented, though, at such events. It's like I'm stepping into another world. I spend my days mostly among women who are homeless, or abused, or facing some other crisis. We try to help people get by from day to day, and sometimes the best you can do is convince them to have hope that tomorrow will be better. But the people at the banquet...I sometimes think that if I could just convince each of them to volunteer at the Hope's Advocate for a day, all our funding problems would be over. I gave one of my usual speeches, casting vision for our clinic an introducing our new doctor. After that, it was just mingling. 

Thomas did very well in that context. He was comfortable, he spoke well, and he looked the part. As a doctor, he earned instant respect from people. He stayed close to my side most of the evening, trying to pick up on who were the really influential people that we needed to pursue. At one point, someone asked him very loudly (under some alcoholic influence, I imagine), "Why on earth are you throwing away a career that was just getting started?" 

It was an awkward moment, and the half-dozen or so people in our conversation group looked around at each other. Someone tried to move the offending questioner away from the group, but Thomas said, "No, no, stay. It's a very fair question at its heart." A few other people gathered around to listen. 

Thomas went on, "Your question, sir, implies that a career is valuable based on the money one earns from it. I disagree. And from speaking with many of my colleagues, I gather that many, perhaps most of them did not go into our field for the money. True, the daunting level of our student loans forces us to pursue higher-paying jobs. But most of us went into medicine out of a sense of calling. And that, I'm sure you know, is the meaning of the word 'vocation'. Vocation means calling. I feel called, sir, to help people with my medical skill." 

As Thomas paused for a sip of his drink, a woman to my left interjected, "But wherever you work, you'll be helping people, right? What was wrong with staying where you were?" 

"I was tired of helping in such a limited way," he answered immediately. "Yes, I helped a lot of people who were sick and wounded. But all I could do was tend their wounds and send them on their way. And I knew that there were so many others who would never walk through our doors because they couldn't afford it. People needing help but not wealthy enough to get it. But what really frustrated me was that I wasn't helping the real problems. I stitch up a woman's face then send her back home to the man who busted it. I treat a man with hypothermia, knowing he's going right back out to his cardboard box. A kid comes in with a knife wound that he says is from 'making a sandwich,' and all I can do is give him some stitches. There are some big problems that need big solutions, and I didn't feel like I was getting at that." 

Like everyone else in our group (which was growing as Tom's deep voice projected through the ballroom), I listened, fascinated. I saw the fire in his eyes, the fire I had seen in Jimmy's eyes so long ago. The fire that once burned in my eyes when I planned to change the world. But unlike Jimmy, Thomas seemed to genuinely believe what he said. And he was committing himself to changing things. 

"What I found at Hope's Advocate," he said, gesturing my direction with his hand," is a place where the real problems are being addressed. Now they can't go about fixing the whole system- that's up to some of you here to worry about." With that, he nodded towards a few local political figures in attendance. "But they're trying to change the world of each person that comes through those doors. They're helping abused women become financially independent. They're providing medical and legal counsel. They're giving homeless families places to stay and helping them into more permanent situations. I am excited by the prospect of doing one little thing in that big project, contributing in my small way to a larger, worthwhile undertaking. That, sir, is my calling that is worth more than money. That, ma'am, is why I'd rather be working with Dottie and her team than with the most reputed medical team in the country." 

A few listeners clapped their hands and said some encouraging words. Thomas was intense without being belligerent, and no one could deny his passion. He was such a fine speaker, too, that I wondered if he should consider a political career of his own, someday. A few people waited around to see if he had anything more to say, but the conversation broke up into smaller, more personal groups. Thomas was explaining a few things to a gentleman next to him, and I was pulled aside by an older couple. 

"Glen would have loved him," the smiling woman said, looking at Thomas. 

"He certainly would have. You knew my Glen?" I asked. 

"Oh yes. I'm Betty and Ron's youngest daughter, Rose. I grew up in his church but had moved away by the time Glen got there. I saw him often enough, though, and Mom would talk about you two so much. They really loved you like their own." 

I wasn't much for sentimentality, especially when I was trying to be professional, but talking about Betty and Glen got me thinking and remembering. My mind started wandering and my heart started aching. After a short conversation with Rose and her husband, I made my way over to Thomas, needing to hold his arm and be close to him. I told him we should be leaving soon, after I made some closing remarks. 

******* 

"You impressed me tonight, Thomas," I said on the drive home. 

"Not only you, I hope," he said thoughtfully. 

"No, I imagine I wasn't the only one stirred by your little speech. You're quite passionate," I said. 

"Well," he paused, "you've given me something to be passionate about." After another moment's pause, he went on, "I mean...it's so good to have something I believe in so strongly. All that frustration and longing for something better is getting channeled into this new clinic. Everything I said tonight...I meant it, it's not just fluff." 

"I know you meant it. I could tell. I've been burned before by charmers who say the right things to get the right reactions, but in the end they're only passionate about themselves. You've made the commitment already- that makes all your talk mean something." 

"My parents always taught me that love follows commitment," he said, and I nearly jumped out of my seat hearing Glen's words in Tom's mouth. "But I used to think that was because they wanted to prepare me for an arranged marriage. Regardless, there's a lot of truth in that statement." 

"More than you may know," I mumbled softly. 

As we pulled up to my house, Thomas got out and hurried around to open my door and help me out of the car. It wasn't necessary, but I indulged him. He walked me to my porch, stopping one step from the top. I was on the step above him, so when I turned around, I was almost at his eye level. Unbidden, I felt the urge to kiss him. It was only a flash of desire, followed by a heart stopping moment when I wondered if he was possibly thinking the same thing. Lately I had been letting my imagination get out of control- the more I let Thomas show up in my fantasies, the more I was wanting him. And here he was- so strong, and handsome, and passionate...those deep brown eyes that had burned with anger over the same wrongs I was trying to correct... 

It must only have been a few seconds that I stood there looking at him. He looked back with an unreadable expression. I finally came to my senses and said, "Thank you, Thomas, for being a wonderful..." the right word failed me. Companion? Escort? Partner? All of them had too much sexual implication. Date? Friend? Neither were really appropriate... 

"Chauffeur?" he suggested playfully. 

"Person," I said, "and partner in a worthy cause." I was relieved I had come up with something that sounded mature. 

"Truly my pleasure, Dottie. And just so you know, I intend to earn enough of your trust to find out Doc Lock's real story." 

I smiled at that and turned to go into the house. Thomas went to his car, but waited until I was inside my door before driving away. I kicked off my shoes, trotted up the steps and started a warm bath. My imagination was waiting to be unleashed...



Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 05



"Well, what did you think? Did you get to talk to him about everything you wanted to?" I was in my office the next morning, on the phone with Gina. She had told me all about their own eventful evening at the hospital, assuring me that Miranda and the baby were fine. She quickly shifted gears and wanted to know about the evening with the donors...and Thomas. 

"To be honest Gina, I forgot to talk to him about all that," I confessed. 

"Dottie! You can't drag your feet on this. We need to hire him ASAP." 

"Don't get all fussy with me, young lady. I didn't get to talk to him about it, but I'm quite...satisfied...with him. He made a good impression on me last night and I've no qualms about hiring him." 

"You're...satisfied? Dottie...?" 

"Oh for heaven's sake, Gina, get your mind out of the gutter. Not everything is a double entendre." 

"Hey, a girl can hope..." 

"Just get the paperwork taken care of as soon as you get the chance. I know you're starting your maternity leave this week, but I need you to take care of this before you disappear." 

"Not a problem. But since I'll be gone, you're going to have to spend a lot of time helping Thomas get settled into the clinic. You need to be available to handle whatever...comes up." 

"Gina!" 

"What?" she said playfully. "Not everything is a double entendre, Dottie." 

******* 

I hadn't thought about it much, but with Gina gone for a few months, I was going to need to be more directly involved in some of the things I had long ago delegated to her. It wasn't a problem- I knew what to do and Gina had cleared my calendar up as much as possible. So over the next month, I saw Thomas on a daily basis. A lot of questions we hadn't considered needed to be dealt with, and a few questions of policy and administration came up. We got into a habit of meeting for breakfast each day before the clinic opened, then debriefing for 15-20 minutes at the end of the day. During that time, we covered a lot of ground, especially in the first month of the clinic being open. 

After that month, we didn't need to meet as often, but we kept up our habit. I didn't mind- with Gina gone, I didn't have my usual conversation partner/sounding board. Thomas gave good perspective on not only the clinic but on some of the other services as well. By midway through the second month, though, some of his questions seemed a little forced...simple...unnecessary. 

"Thomas," I told him over our breakfast, "you don't have to ask questions every time." 

He looked a little sheepish and asked, "Is that your way of saying it was a stupid question?" 

"No...not at all...I just..." 

"I'm sorry Dottie, I'm teasing you. You're right, I'm having trouble thinking of work-related things to ask." 

"That's not a problem, Tom. We don't have to meet every day if we don't need to." 

"That's just it, Dottie," he said, looking away. "I would prefer to keep meeting." 

"To what end?" 

"To what end? Listen to yourself, Dottie. You make it sound all business-like. To the end of talking together and enjoying your company." 

I sat for a minute and let that sink in. I stopped myself before saying a few different things, wanting to choose my reaction carefully. 

"I'll say it more clearly," he said. "I like talking with you. I'd like to keep doing that. Is that OK?" 

"Yes," I said, trying not to calculate all the possible layers of meaning contained in that request. "And for what it's worth, I enjoy spending time with you as well. You're a very engaging and courteous young man." 

Tom chuckled a little at that, then simply said, "Thank you, Dottie. And you are a fascinating, fun, and intelligent woman." 

"Well thank you, sir. And now I think we should end this shower of praise and unlock the doors for the morning." 

"See you at 6?" he asked. 

"Only if you need something. You can come by my office," I said. 

He nodded and said, "OK." 

I headed back to my office, closed the door and slumped down in my chair, letting out a loud breath. What was that all about? 

******* 

It turns out, that was a big distraction for me. I couldn't keep my mind on things at work. I kept coming back to think about what Thomas had meant. Did he like the conversation? Did he like me? Did he just need someone to talk to? At one point, I was lost in thought and just giggled. I realized that I was acting like a school girl analyzing all the possible meanings of every little word that had passed between us. 

And yet, even if it was more than a professional relationship, how could it mean anything more than a friendship? I started to get worried. Was I sending out some signals, perhaps subconsciously? I obviously was not 'marriage material' for someone his age- he would be thinking of settling down, having kids, right? So if he was thinking of a relationship with me, then he was just thinking of something temporary, right? 

A hundred thoughts wandered through my head that day. I was utterly unproductive. I was able to take care of some mindless tasks, even cleaning up my file cabinets for the first time in months, but my mind was elsewhere. I didn't even notice how late it was until there was a knock on my door. Looking up at the clock, I saw that it was a few minutes after six. 

"Come in," I said nervously. The door opened slowly and Denise peeked in. 

I sighed in relief, then smiled warmly at her. "Hi Denise, have a seat." 

"It's OK, I just need your signature on these invoices," she said, handing me a few sheets of paper. Then looking at me with concern, she asked, "Are you OK? You seem a little spacey." 

Flipping through the papers and signing each of them, I said, "I'm fine. Just a little...preoccupied. Stuff on my mind, that's all." 

"Well, I'm sure you miss Gina. I know I'm not your usual sounding board, but if you need someone to listen..." 

"Thanks Denise, I'll be fine," I said, handing her the paperwork. 

As she headed towards the door, she said casually, "Maybe you should talk to the Doc. He seems a little out of it today, too. Maybe something's going around." 

As she closed the door behind her, I closed my eyes and put my head in my hands. Dammit, Gina!, I thought, What the hell did you start? 

******* 

Thomas didn't come by my office that evening, and I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed. I was a bit upset with myself that I had been so unproductive that day, so I decided to stay late and try to finish some things that had looming deadlines. But unless I could get my head cleared, I wasn't going to be getting anything done. 

I looked over at a closed drawer on the left side of my desk. I looked at the clock, then at my door. After a minute's deliberation, I stood up, mumbling to myself, and walked to my office door. I locked it, turned out the light, and returned to my seat. Pulling open the drawer, I rifled through staplers, tissues, spare change and some energy bars before I found, shoved in the back, a tube of lipstick. It was a gag gift from Gina a year earlier, when I was going through a time of being all wound up and stressed out over some financial problems we were having. The lipstick tube was actually a small vibrator- discreet and portable. 

I had never used it- or anything like it, for that matter. I had tossed it in the drawer with a chuckle and not given it much thought. I did try to loosen up a bit, though, since Gina seemed to be picking up on my stress level. But if I was going to get anything done tonight... 

I stood up and slipped off my panties, tucking them into a side pocket of my bag. Sitting back down in my desk chair, I leaned back and propped my feet up on my desk. Spreading my legs a bit, I started slowly rubbing myself with a few fingers, just teasing my folds. I shivered as soon as I came into contact with my clit, realizing for the first time how aroused I was. Oh God, I thought. It had been so long since I had felt like that. I never really wanted sex as an end in itself. It was always about the personal connection. But today I felt...something different. Today I was...horny. 

My thighs twitched a little as I felt myself rushing towards a quick release. It had been building up all day. I had been occasionally picturing myself intimate with Thomas, wondering out of curiosity if he was as tender and strong sexually as he was in conversation. I pictured myself leaning back against a pile of pillows, looking up at those eyes. I pictured him coming in for a kiss. 

I was gasping, holding back a shout, my orgasm taking me by surprise. My legs snapped closed and my hand pushed down on my mound, gently moving to extend the pleasure that was spreading up to my chest. I couldn't contain a slight moan and a hiss as I sucked in air. It was a good, short cum, but I didn't feel as relieved as I wanted to. I wanted more. 

In my other hand, I still clutched the vibrator. I opened it up and turned it over a few times, figuring out how to turn it on. I smiled at a joke in my head- no one needed to turn me on right now. Once I figured out the right way to get it started, I held it close to my face and looked at the curious thing. Would something like this really have an effect on me? Gina (and a few others over the years) had assured me that there was much to be said for these little toys. 

With some trepidation, I moved it down, spreading my legs just a bit. I started gently running it along my lips, giggling a little at the way it tickled. That felt nice, but it probably wasn't going to do anything. Then I parted my legs a little more and used my fingers to open my folds. I slowly, cautiously moved the vibrator into my slit, running it gently around my entrance. Again, it felt nice and even a bit soothing, but it wasn't going to start any fireworks. 

Nevertheless, I kept up the motion, using the vibrator the same way I would normally use my fingers. Once again, I let my imagination wander. I pictured Thomas beneath me on a bed. I wondered what he looked like without a shirt- was he lean and hard, or thicker? Was he smooth, like his cheeks always seemed to be, or was there hair along his chest? I pictured myself on top of him and imagined the feel of my hands running along his body- up his ribs, onto his shoulders, down his arms... 

Instinctively, I began moving my hips in a slow, steady motion. I ran the vibrator along my lips then back in to touch my entrance. My breathing quickened and for a few minutes I kept up a steady rhythm like that- tickle the lips, tap the entrance, picture his chest, imagine his broad shoulders, think of his eyes. 

When I felt myself building up to a bigger release, I quickly unbuttoned enough of my blouse to reach a hand inside. I imagined Thomas' hand reaching up and taking a hold of my breast. With my own hand I slipped my fingers under my bra and shivered at the sensation of fingers rubbing my nipple. I pictured Thomas' tongue doing the same thing. 

Ready to go to the next level, I slowly moved the vibrator up towards my clit, which had been craving some touch for a few minutes now. I thought I could move around it until I found my release. But once the tip of the vibrator found my clit, it was all over. 

Oh...my...GOD! All the pictures in my head went into vibrant colors, then were overtaken by flashing and music and trying to breathe and squeezing and my feet slipping off the desk and onto the ground and my legs clenching and both hands now holding the vibrator and my stomach clenching and my walls tightening and hearing my own voice making noises I didn't want anyone to hear and slipping off the chair and finding myself on my knees, one hand gripping the edge of the desk to support myself. 

I could hear my own breathing, and that sound brought me back into focus. I still felt my legs shaking a bit, and I wasn't ready to stand up yet. After a minute of catching my breath and listening to the steady tick of the clock on my office wall, I shook my head and got back up. I dropped back into my desk chair and looked around, chuckling to myself. A faint buzzing underneath me showed me where I had dropped the vibrator, which I picked up and turned off. 

"Well that was certainly a toe-curler," I said into the silence. The rest of the evening turned out to be quite productive, more than making up for all the hours I had wasted during the day. 

******* 

I was nervous the next morning, heading in to breakfast. Thomas was already there, and he stood to greet me. It seemed like such an old-fashioned habit, standing when a lady entered. I commented on that, and he said, "My parents trained me that way. Sometimes my teachers would joke that I was born in the wrong century." 

"I bet you got tired of hearing that," I said. 

"All I had to do was remind them what life was like for a man of my ethnicity in previous centuries and that quickly ended those comments," he said seriously. Then he broke into a broad smile. That led into an engaging discussion over racial issues in his upbringing, some of which he had only begun to understand and process through the class I had taught. 

"Which reminds me," he said, leaning forward. "I still don't know Doc Lock's story..." 

"A tale for another time," I said, looking at the clock. The hour had flown by, and I had lost all sense of unease. 

"Tomorrow?" he asked. 

"Perhaps," I said coyly and headed out of the clinic. 

We went on like that for a few weeks- spending our breakfast times sharing stories, talking about issues, and overall enjoying one another's company. In the meantime, Tom was finding his way into more and more of my fantasies. I tried to justify it by saying that it was only the excitement of the idea- it wasn't something that would ever happen in reality, so it was safe to imagine. 

But as Glen had told me all those years ago, imagining leads to wanting, which leads to more imagining which leads to more wanting. It was a dangerous cycle that I was unwilling to put an end to. It made for some wonderful orgasms, with or without the vibrator; and there was a sliver of unacknowledged hope that just maybe it could happen. 

Why did I want it to happen? That was the question that bugged me. As Gina was quick to remind me lately, I needed to get laid. Yes, there was some truth to that, and Thomas was...well...a very attractive option in that regard. But just getting laid has never been enough rationale for me- I'd only had two sexual partners my whole life, and I had been married both times. Call me old fashioned, but that's the way it is for me. But beyond the sexual need, there is the desire to be desired- the wanting to be wanted. Just because I was getting older didn't mean I had any less of a desire to be thought beautiful and sexy and worth pursuing. So I could explain my desires, my fantasies, and even my slightly inappropriate extended time with Tom as the result of those two things- sexual desire and emotional neediness. 

But I was discovering there was more. There was something else that kept me coming back to the breakfast table, something else that kept me picturing his face, his body as I touched myself. I was growing to love Tom. And if that was the case, it might be best for me to back off. Why let my heart get unnecessarily tangled up in something like that, something bound for disappointment? 

******* 

One morning, as I was considering the complicated web of emotions and desires that were surrounding my relationship with Thomas, I showed up for breakfast to find that Thomas wasn't there. I followed some noises down the hall and bumped into Denise, who was hurrying the other direction. Before I could ask what was going on, she explained, "There was someone waiting on the doorstep when we showed up...couldn't wait...sort of urgent. I hope it's OK that we opened early." 

She hurried down the hall away from me, not taking time to hear me assuring her it was fine. I made my way to the room where Thomas was trying to clean up a head wound that was certainly going to need some stitches. It only took a glance for me to know the story- another woman beaten raw by a man. Thomas looked up at me and I saw the fire, the anger over what he was needing to fix. 

"Dottie..." he began. 

"I'll make the call," I answered. We've learned that a woman is more likely to talk to the police if the officer is already there, rather than asking her to make the decision to call. In a few minutes, I had an officer on the way- the local precinct knows us well and are usually happy to send someone over, even if it ends up being just as a precaution. 

As I headed back towards my office, I passed by the lobby of the clinic. Looking out the window, I saw an angry young man with a bloody shirt stomping towards our doors. Out of instinct, I pulled out my keys and locked the glass doors before he could get there. That just pissed him off even more. 

"I'm sorry," I shouted through the glass, "we open at 9." 

"The fuck you say!" he yelled. "Let me see my wife! Let me see my wife!" 

For some stupid reason, I decided to be a wise ass and said, "Visiting hours are not until 10, please come back then." 

"Bitch!" he yelled, and slammed his fist on the door. I moved out of his line of sight, but kept an eye on the door, just in case. Our visitor found a chunk of brick in the parking lot and brought it back to the glass door. 

"Denise!" I hollered, "Lock up!" We'd only needed to do that a few times in our history, but she knew it meant to get in the room with the patient, lock the door, and slide the table in front of it. After two hits with the brick, our glass door cracked. I looked around for something to have in my hand and laughed when the most available weapon was a heavy glass lamp at the reception desk. I unplugged it and got a good grip. 

The asshole backed up a few steps and wound his arm back to throw. I was bracing for the sound of the crash when I heard some shouts. Two officers had arrived just in time to catch the asshole mid-hurl. The brick dropped to the ground, followed immediately by its thrower. I opened the door and tried not to gloat as he was led away in handcuffs. One of the officers came inside to get my statement. 

I had forgotten to give Denise the all clear, so after not hearing anything for a minute, Thomas had left the room, despite Denise's protests, and came running to the lobby. In his hand was a large wooden paddle. The officer started to react, but I shouted, "Wait! That's my doctor!" 

The two men froze, and the officer looked at Tom's weapon. Tom lifted it slowly and said defensively, "It's a cricket bat. Only thing I could grab from my office." Looking at me he started to laugh. I realized I was still clutching the lamp. Thomas pointed to it and said, "I guess I needn't have bothered, eh? Dock Lock had it covered." With that, he walked over to me and gave me a hug. I sighed and leaned into his embrace. It felt nice, safe, caring, and warm. He held me until the officer cleared his throat. We backed up and he asked, "Can someone bring me up to speed?" 

"I have a patient to attend to. Give me another 15 minutes or so, OK?" 

"That's fine," the officer said. "I need a few words with Dottie first, anyway." 

I gave my statement, then sat with the young lady as she gave hers. Thomas cut the questioning as short as he could so that he could finish tending some wounds. As the officer was preparing to leave, much to my surprise, Gina walked in. 

"You're early!" I said. 

"Andrew's home today and I was itching to get back, so I came in a day early. Looks like I should've come in even earlier. I'm gone three months and you can't even keep the doors to my clinic from breaking, Dottie?" 




Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 05



"Just a little morning adventure with an angry husband. You're here just in time. Tricia here is going to need a place to stay for a little while. Will you go set something up while I talk with her?" 

"Rodger dodger," Gina said cheerily as she turned to leave. 

I sat and watched Thomas work, somewhat enchanted by the skillful way his hands went about their task. Not only that, but his voice soothed and calmed the girl as he worked. He gave simple instructions and even told stories of some of the funnier wounds he'd stitched up in the ER. Tricia just closed her eyes and listened, letting him go about his work. After another 30 minutes, she was all done and cleaned up, so I walked her over to the dorms. Gina took over, getting her checked in, then accompanying her back to her apartment to get some belongings. 

I spent my morning calling our insurance company, following up with the police, calling a glass company, and making our own internal incident report. By the time lunchtime arrived, I was starving. Gina and I went out and got caught up. I heard all about their new little girl, Andrea, and how Ian and Estelle, their other two, were handling having a baby in the house. Gina got caught up on the business of the past few months, then pressed me for details on Thomas. 

"He's working out very well. You found an excellent candidate. And I have tried to build a good relationship with him." 

"Good," said Gina. Then she sat silently and looked at me. For half a minute we didn't break eye contact- Gina trying to get more out of me while I was unwilling to give anything up. We were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

"Come in," I said loudly, smirking at Gina while continuing to endure her stare down. 

"Dottie?" I heard Thomas' voice from the doorway. I quickly looked up at him as he kept his feet in the hallway and leaned into my office. "Would you mind staying a little later today? I'd like to talk about this morning." 

"Sure, I can do that. Come by my office when you're done," I said with a controlled voice. 

"I'd like to get out of here for a bit, though," he went on. "I'll find a place where we can grab dinner." 

Knowing that Gina was probably beaming in front of me, I kept my eyes on Tom's. "I understand. It can get a bit stifling here with everyone breathing down your neck all the time." I looked over at Gina as I said that. She was, of course, smiling so wide I worried she would hurt herself. 

"See you at six, then," he said, pulling the door shut behind him. 

Gina's feet were tapping on the floor and her head was wagging with excitement. "I knew it!" she said after a few seconds. 

"You're just imagining things," I assured her...vainly. 

"Dinner? Really? I knew he had it for you, knew it from the first day. You can't see it Dottie, but he's...besotted." 

"Nonsense, girl. We have a good, professional relationship." 

"Is that why you have breakfast together every morning?" 

I bit my lip and narrowed my eyes. She took me by surprise with that, and I wasn't quick enough to give a better explanation. 

"OK, so it's not just professional; but Gina, it's not anything romantic. It's simply two adults- one much younger than the other- enjoying conversation." 

"Do you want anything more?" 

"I...would find that highly inappropriate. And unlikely. And I thought I made you swear to drop this." 

Gina shrugged, smiled, and stood to leave. "Enjoy your dinner," she laughed as she headed back to work. 

******* 

I did enjoy dinner. The meal was fine. The company was better. I think we both knew that talking about the morning's events was only a pretext for getting some time together. What I didn't know, though, was why he felt the need for such a pretext. Most of our conversation resembled our typical breakfast times. This evening, he told me about cricket- his interest in it, opinions on it as the superior sport, and the lamentable lack of a following it receives in North America. 

We had eaten at a small place a few blocks away from the shelter. I lived a few blocks the other direction, and since it was well after dark by the time we finished, Thomas insisted on walking me back. It was a nice evening, and I had to walk briskly to keep up with Thomas' long strides. I felt like a little girl trying to keep up with Daddy. 

When we got to my place, I took a step up towards my porch, then turned to say good night to Thomas. "Tom, I..." Being a step up, I was right at eye level with him, and suddenly being face to face made me pause. I looked into those eyes that I had imagined dozens of times and felt flustered and forgetful. What was I even about to say? Had I already said something? 

Before I could regather my wits and exit gracefully, Tom swept his hand to the back of my head and gently pulled me forward. His mouth found mine and our lips pressed. Instinctively, I opened my mouth, but in a last moment of reserve, I held back my tongue. We kissed, mouths open, for only a few seconds. It was just long enough for my senses to return. And though a part of me was fighting the urge to pull away, my reasonable side prevailed. I pulled back, and Tom's hand didn't stop me. 

Looking back into his eyes, I saw a little of the confusion and fear that I was feeling. But more than that, I saw hope...expectation...excitement. "Dottie..." 

I turned, ran up the steps, and quickly unlocked my front door. Going inside, I slammed shut the door, then leaned my back against it. Panting in...fear?...I tried to get my head to think clearly. I winced and cursed myself rushing off without addressing the problem, took a deep breath, and opened the door again. Thomas was gone. 

I closed the door and sank to the floor. I listened to my heart racing in my ears. I knew I wouldn't be going to sleep any time soon.



Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 06



So that's what got me to this point. And that's why I blame Gina. She brought Tom into my life, she pushed him at me (and probably pushed him towards me, only more subtly), and she's the reason everything is all messed up right now. Now? Well, it's about 24 hours since Tom kissed me, a stretch of time spent freaking out, panicking, soul-searching, crying, remembering, dreaming, and yes...masturbating. And that was just the first 2 hours! 

I got into work this morning, skipping breakfast. It was just as well, because Thomas didn't show for breakfast either. Instead, there was a bottle of wine on my desk, and a note that said, "We should talk. Tonight. Warmly, T." 

We should talk? Yes. We should definitely talk. I went to his office around lunchtime. He was between patients, so I poked my head in. In a controlled voice, I said, "A little after six, OK?" 

He looked up and smiled at me. "Should we go to your place?" 

"Neutral ground- the lobby," I countered. 

"You're right. I'm sure it's fine if people see us talking. Let them draw their own conclusions." he smirked. He was right. Dammit. 

"My office, then," I said firmly. A statement, not a question. I wasn't going to have this conversation near a bed. 

"Better make it seven, then. I think Gina's been having dinner with Tricia. Might want to wait until she's gone for the night. She seems to be keeping a close eye on both of us." 

That got a laugh out of me. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. 

"I'll go out and get us some food to eat- is Chinese OK?" I offered. 

"Chinese, in your office, at 7. And we'll work on the wine until we get things sorted out." Saying that, he pulled two glasses out of his drawer and held them up for me to see. 

"Good idea. I think I'll need the help." I backed up, never having allowed myself to enter his office. 

As I turned to leave, he called out, "Dottie?" I paused and looked back. He went on, "I'm sorry if...last night I..." 

"We'll talk about it later. Just keep your mind on my patients for now." 

"My patients, Dottie. Your clinic, but my patients." His voice was playful, but serious. I knew not to get between him and his work. 

******* 

When Tom arrived a few minutes after 7, I walked out to the hall and looked around for lights. 

"Gina drove off 10 minutes ago," he told me. We've got as much privacy as two people can have around this place." 

"Well I wouldn't put it past Gina to come back if she suspected that both of us were still here. You'd think a new baby in the house would keep her mind busy..." I directed him to the couch and the spread of Chinese take-out on the table. I sat in a cushioned chair across from him. 

Thomas sat down and said, "Apparently not busy enough. She's already talking about number four. There was a girl at the clinic today who is not sure she wants to keep her baby, and Gina made sure she knew there would be a loving home for it, if that's what she wanted." 

"Dammit, Tom, I swear that woman is going to be building us an orphanage before long." 

He laughed loudly at that, and the full sound of his laugh rumbled in my ears. When he was able to talk again, he said, "Well, I guess we each have our own obsessions. Something that evokes our passion and receives the brunt of our energies." 

"You talk like a book. You know that right?" He paused, chopsticks in mid-air, and looked at me questioningly. 

"I'm just teasing you," I assured him. "But it's true. Sometimes you sound like everything has been written for you by a speechwriter." 

"I read a lot when I was young. I spent far more time with books than with people, even through college. My style of speaking came from the books I read, so it's probably a little less vernacular than most." 

"Well at least you're a doctor. You couldn't get away with that in a lot of other jobs!" 

Tom shifted nervously in his seat, then spoke while poking his rice around. "I wish I could say I had some thoughts prepared for our conversation this evening, Dottie, but I can't seem to get my thoughts straight. I'm hoping that together we can figure things out." 

I stood up and walked to my desk. Retrieving the wine bottle, I brought it to the table. Tom reached into his side bag and pulled out two glasses. As I poured the drinks, I said, "Tom, this will either be a very short conversation or a very long one." 

"To a fruitful one," he said, raising his glass. 

"Amen to that," I said, clinking my glass against his. I drank my first glass down in one go, hoping to calm my nerves right away. I didn't drink often- hardly ever- so I worried about my capacity. The wine wasn't strong, but I could tell it had started working. After a few more bites, I took a deep breath and said, "Let's start with last night. What were you thinking?" 

Smiling, he swallowed a mouthful of food and said, "I was thinking that I really wanted to kiss you. Seeing the opportunity, I took it." 

"Well, I'm glad to know you you didn't kiss me against your will, but what I mean is...why?" 

Tom seemed confused by the question. Finishing his own glass of wine, he poured us both another and said, "If you mean, 'Why did I want to kiss you,' then I guess it's pretty simple. You're an amazing woman, Dottie. I'm attracted to you, but not just physically. I really enjoy you as a person. I feel drawn to you. You inspire me, you encourage me, you...you're great. Damn, I can't even put it in words. You're special. And...I think we have been getting closer together over the past few months. I'd like for us to be closer. I'd been wanting to for a while. And you seem to share some of those feelings...I think...unless I'm totally misreading all your nonverbal communication." 

"And rather than use some verbal communication to take the next step, you grabbed my neck and kissed me?" I spoke sharply, but not harshly. I hadn't minded the kiss- not one bit. What bothered me was the way he went about it. 

"I'm sorry for that," he said, and we both took another drink. "I'm pretty nervous about all this. You're an intimidating woman. And to be frank, I was pretty sure your head might try to overrule your heart at first, so I didn't include it in the conversation." 

It was a funny way of putting it, but he was making perfect sense. 

"I'm old enough to be your mother. You realize that, don't you?" No sense in dancing around the elephant in the room. 

Not missing a beat, he said, "You're old enough to have all the poise and character and charm and wisdom that make a woman truly beautiful." Dammit. He had a way with words. Almost like Jimmy, but more sincere. "Plus, you are also very attractive," he said, looking into my eyes. 

"For a woman my age," I clarified, looking away. 

"For a woman of any age." I downed the rest of my glass an poured a third. I was going to need it. 

It was a long conversation. And a fruitful one. We didn't cover all the ground we needed to. Mostly, I needed to be assured that he was serious, that he didn't just have a fetish for older women (or some unhealthy Mommy issues), and that he knew that, whatever happened from here on out, we needed to be very discreet. 

An hour and a half later, we had finished off all the food and most of the bottle of wine. I may have had more than my fair share, which, I told myself, was why I was wanting so badly to join him on the couch. I felt a little giddy, but not drunk. I felt like I was still making rational decisions, aided by a little liquid courage. I stood up, walked around the table, and sat on the couch next to Thomas. He didn't say a word, but his eyes followed mine the whole time. He turned his upper body to face me, but kept his hands to himself. I felt sexy, and strong, and in control. We faced each other, only inches apart. 

"Tom. I have a secret to tell you." He raised his eyebrows in anticipation. "I'm very interested in you, too. I have been for a while. I can't promise you that anything will come of this, but I'd like to try. You may not like what it takes- I'm a traditional girl and I stick to my principles. But I'm giving you the green light to talk more about this." 

Tom seemed a little flustered, and whispered in reply, "Dottie...I'm so glad to hear that." 

Not sure what else to say, I leaned in and touched my lips to his. In some ways it reminded me of that first tentative kiss with Glen so many years before. There was a chasteness to it, a simplicity, a knowledge that we would only kiss, nothing more. But it was different from that kiss with Glen, because this time there was a well-spring of desire behind it. I wanted more, I hoped there could be more, I wanted this kiss to be just a prelude to love-making. Not that night, not on that couch, but eventually. I feared Tom wouldn't think it worth the effort. But I hoped. 

I let those fears and worries melt into one kiss, touching the tip of my tongue to his lips. He responded gently, and our tongues moved slowly across the space between us. When I started to feel like I wouldn't be able to stop myself from going further, I pulled back and cleared my throat. I giggled and said, "Shame on you, Doctor. Getting me tipsy and taking advantage of me." 

Tom smiled a naughty grin and said, "You're not tipsy, Dottie." 

"Oh, I beg to differ. I'm feeling a little light-headed and woozy. We drank a whole bottle of..." 

"Grape juice," he said. 

"Excuse me?" 

"That's my little secret for this evening. I didn't want our judgment to be clouded, so I filled the wine bottle with grape juice. You could still smell the alcohol, but that's about it...just the smell." 

I didn't know whether I was furious or ready to laugh. Probably both. "You...you...!" Words escaped me. 

Thomas laughed- that same, full, deep-hearted laugh. "Did you know," he asked, "that studies show people tend to act as drunk as they think they are? Even if they're totally sober? I seem to recall learning that in a certain sociology class long ago..." 

"You little shit," I said, now sure I was ready to laugh. I used to teach about that in a lesson on herd mentality and peer pressure. The studies were fascinating, but I had often wondered how anyone could trick someone into thinking they were under the influence of alcohol. 

I stood up, laughing. "Get out of my office, young man. I do not feel safe with you right now." 

Standing, he smiled and said, "Maybe I'm the one that should fear for my safety, Doc Oc..." 

"Shoo! Shoo!" I playfully pushed him towards the door. Just before he walked out, I pulled him back and said, "Wait." Just as he turned, I pulled him in for another kiss. A brief but passionate one. Then pushing him away, I said, "Good night, Tom." 

"See you at breakfast?" he asked hopefully. 

"No. I don't think that would be wise. We'll talk tomorrow, though." 

"Fair enough. Good night Dottie." 

As I closed the door behind him, I turned around and smiled. No matter where this road would take us, I intended to enjoy the trip. 

******* 

The whole world changes when you're infatuated. Sad things are less sad, annoying things are less annoying, funny things are more funny, and the weather always seems to be nice. I'm not normally a cheery person- I've seen too much. So when I walk around the office smiling, Gina at least knows that something's up. 

"You're looking like you just got a donor to fund us for an entire decade. What's up?" she asked me the next morning, as we went over some plans for the coming week. 

"Oh, nothing much. I just feel good." 

Gina dropped her papers into her lap and said, "Spill it." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, barely containing my smile. 

Gina squinted at me for a few seconds and said, "Dottie, so help me God, I will dig up your secret. I will squeeze it out of you. I will interrogate every last soul in this building..." 

"Stop it Gina," I warned her. 

"No. You will not bully me out of this. You can't keep secrets from me Dottie, it's not fair. I've told you everything, even the really crazy stuff, you owe me the same kind of transparency. You need to talk to someone about..." 

"Tom and I..." 

"Tom? You mean Thomas, the doctor? You call him Tom?" 

"Thomas and I have been talking..." 

Gina closed her mouth, smiled wide, and put her hands together in front of her mouth, looking almost as if she was about to pray. But her wide-eyed happy look made it clear that her thoughts were directed at me, not at God. 

"...and we're discussing the possibility of...taking our friendship to another level." 

Gina squealed like a little school girl. 

"Stop it, Gina. Be reasonable. We're adults, talking about taking a step forward in..." 

"I knew it! I knew it!" she said, ignoring my attempts to calm her. And to be honest, it was hard not to smile. I would say her excitement was contagious, but I was already plenty excited. 

"Tell me everything Dottie. Everything." I didn't tell her quite everything, but by the end of our conversation, she had about as good an idea of where things stood as I did. I began to open up a bit about my fears and worries. The age difference, obviously. And that we likely wanted different things. That it would affect work. That I would compromise my principles if I wanted him badly enough. 

"But Gina, when I look at his eyes, I just melt. It's like he knows everything I'm afraid of and he knows it's going to be OK. And he's always one step ahead of me, which is scary but comforting at the same time. Does that make any sense?" 

"It makes total sense, Dottie, if you're in love. I knew Andrew didn't have all the answers when I fell in love with him, and you know how crazy our issues were." 

"Haven't heard anything like it, before or since," I interjected. 

"But that same thing with the eyes. It was like...he didn't have the answers, but he was ready to face all the questions with me. Like it would be..." 

"Worth it," I said softly. 

"Yeah," Gina agreed, her mind drifting to her own story. "It's worth it." 

******* 

Gina and I managed to get our minds back on work, but only after she had forced me to promise to talk to her about things as they developed. 

"I'm not looking for gossip, Dottie, you know me better than that," she said. "I care about you- you're my closest friend other than Andrew, and you need to be talking to someone. And I don't want to lose my doctor. I busted my ass trying to find him." 

I agreed to make her my sounding board, and even just having talked things through with her that one time really helped me. When I took a break for lunch later that day, I wrote out a list of things I felt like Tom and I should talk about. I categorized them into groups labeled, "Deal Breakers; Red Flags; and Preferences." Deal Breakers were the things I wouldn't budge on, red flags were a little more flexible but still very important, and preferences were just things I liked but wouldn't insist on. I sent Tom an email to tell him what I'd done and that I wanted to talk with him after work. He must have been on break, too, because he wrote back immediately: Let's start with the deal breakers, then. In your office tonight? 

I agreed, and promised to bring dinner. He offered to supply the "wine." 

******* 

"Really, Tom, there are only two deal breakers for me, but they're big ones," I said, once I had managed to pull my lips away from his. Our meal was finished and I wanted to talk seriously before my hormones took us off track. 

"Shoot," he said, smiling as if he already knew what I would say. 

"One is that I don't want to do anything that will jeopardize our work here. If a relationship means one of us would have to leave, it's a no-go. Not only would Gina kill me, but I think you belong here." 

"I agree. In fact, I would think you would see that a relationship would only cement my position here. I'm not going anywhere while you're here." 

"Well, that's sweet and all, but I think what concerns me more is...what if it doesn't work out? What if we try, and it doesn't work, and you decide to leave? Part of me says it's not worth the risk." 

"That's an easy one, Dottie. We make sure it works. We decide that failure is not an option." 

"Tom, I'm being serious here!" 

"So am I, Dottie. I swear. I'm not a serial dater. I don't take relationships lightly. If this is what we choose, its a very serious thing for me." Gone was his playful smirk. Instead, he held my cheek in one large hand and looked straight at me. 

"That...that's good," I said. "Which leads to my other deal breaker." I took a deep breath. "No sex outside of marriage." There. I had said it. I had brought up sex. And marriage. "I know that's old-fashioned and unpopular and that might be where we need to part ways. I'm sorry if I led you on so far without getting that out in the open, but I will hold firmly to that." I braced myself for an awkward conversation. 

"So we wait until we're married. That's OK. I would expect that." He seemed completely unfazed, like I had said nothing unusual. 

"Maybe you don't understand what that means, Tom. I'm not going to fool around. All this," I wave my hand around, indicating the closeness of our bodies, "isn't going to go anywhere further if we're not married." 

"I get that, Dottie. You're not the only one with a traditional upbringing. I see us on the same path." 

"Oh, Thomas, don't get an old woman's hopes up. You can't seriously be considering me to be marriage material for you!" 

"And why not, exactly?" he asked in a voice that was humoring me. 

"You're young...well, young-er. You've still got a lot ahead of you, and you should be thinking about marrying a woman who will be able to give you...you know...the life you want." 

"And you can't do that?" 

"Thomas," I said, a little exasperated, "I'm 54 years old. There's a lot of things I can do, but I can't give you everything you want." 

"Ohhh," he said, somewhat mockingly. "You mean children. This is all about having kids, isn't it?" 

"Not exclusively, but primarily...yes. You may think you don't want that now, but..." 

"Let me be the judge of what I want, Dottie. You have to at least respect me that much. It's not your place nor anyone else's to decide that for me." 

I silently endured his rebuke. Perhaps I had hit a nerve. 

"And for the record, children are not in my future. Not biologically, at least. That's a story for another time. But suffice to say, I have known for a long time that I could not father children, and that knowledge has helped to refine my vision of my future. I want to be serving and helping people. I want to use my skills to make a difference- not only in people's lives but also in the community in which they live. I want to be a part of something that is changing things." 

There was that fire. There was that passion in those eyes. There was that voice that demanded to be heard and heeded. 

"So Dottie, if you think that you can be a part of that, if you think you can support and encourage and partner with me in that, then I would say you stand a very good chance being able to give me the kind of life I want. You've already given me so much, and you've become a very good friend to me. But I want more. You are a beautiful, amazing woman, and I want to know and be with you in every way possible. Can you offer me that, Dottie?" 

Humbled, and excited, and on the verge of tears, I whispered, "I hope so." 

His eyes still blazing, his neck bulging with his pulse, he said, "Then get over here and kiss me, or else ask me to leave, because I want to feel you close to me right now." 




Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 06



I let my passion carry me back to his arms and did what I had been longing to do for some time. I sat on his lap and allowed myself to feel small and vulnerable. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me tight as our tongues and lips danced with each other. I put my hand on the back of his head, forbidding him to pull away. I didn't need to worry. He pressed forward, almost violently, kissing me until we both had to stop to breathe. His hands rested on my back and hip, mine on his neck and shoulder. We were almost in position to waltz, except we were seated- me on him and him on the couch. 

"Now," he said, calmly, "are there any more deal breakers?" 

"No," I said, shaking my head. "And I think you've managed to clear away the red flags, too." 

Tom smiled and pulled me in for a hug. I felt in him the safety and care of Daddy, the fire of James and the wisdom and goodness of Glen. But he was uniquely Tom, and I saw in him many things that the other men in my life hadn't possessed. Yes, he had indeed cleared away my red flags. 

******* 

We talked. Often. Over the next 3 weeks, we talked so much that it started to feel like negotiations. We had to start to meet in public places, though, because the couch in my office started to feel too tempting. After our first week, we had to let the staff know, lest rumors start to circulate. 

Gina tracked with us- getting the condensed version of our conversations and helping me to process things. She didn't quite understand or agree with my "no sex outside of marriage" stance, but was willing to accept that I wasn't bending on it. 

"So what are you waiting for?" she asked me one evening as we locked up. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean...what's keeping you two from getting married right now? Obviously, you're both down with the idea. You don't need or seem to want some long, protracted romance or courtship. What are you waiting for?" 

I opened my mouth to answer, then stopped in confusion. "I...have no idea." 

Gina just laughed and said, "I think I know what your next conversation needs to be about." 

******* 

I didn't get the chance to bring it up. Late the next morning, I got a call from Tom. I was in my office and wondered why he didn't just stop by to talk. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry," he said frantically as soon as I answered. 

"What are you..." 

"I had no idea. I mean...I knew that sooner or later, but she totally surprised me, and..." 

Just then there was a light knock on my office door. I looked up to see an older, brown-skinned woman with gray hair and large glasses. Tom's voice continued on the phone, but I didn't even hear what he said. She said, "Hello, my name is Regina, and I understand I need to speak to you about my son." 

I put the phone back up to my ear and said, "I'll have to call you back later, I have a visitor." 

"Good luck!" I heard as I hung up the phone. 

I rose and walked to the door. "Please, come in," I said, indicating the couch and wincing at the thought of making out with her son on that same couch. 

"Actually, it might be best for us to go out," she said. She clutched her purse with both hands and looked up at me. I was surprised that Tom would have a mother who was barely 5 feet tall. 

"Of course, let me grab my bag," I said. I led us down the block to a simple restaurant that I knew didn't do much business during lunch. Regina was silent during our walk, and I tried to fill the silence by pointing out some of the local sites of interest. It was awkward. 

Once we were seated and had ordered our lunches, she began. "Obviously, you understand that we're a little concerned. The way Thomas is talking about you...and talking about a future together...it's a little surprising. We trust his judgment, we really do. And he's certainly a grown man. But can you please indulge an old woman and help put a worrying mother's heart at ease?" Her voice was a little shaky- she was at about 15 years older than me- but her mind and her gaze were sharp and unyielding. 

"Of course," I said, "anything." 

"We've heard a lot about you, but I'd like to hear it from you. Can you just tell me your story?" 

I felt like I was being tested. How much had Tom told her? In such cases, I default to total honesty. I told her briefly about Jimmy and about my incarceration. I told her about Glen and my teaching career. I told her about the growth of Hope's Advocate and about how my relationship with Thomas began. She listened silently, and our food arrived just as I finished. 

She asked if she could pray over our food, which surprised me. I suddenly felt a little embarrassed that I had always assumed Thomas' family was Hindu. I wisely held my tongue, learning later that they came from an area of southern India that had been Christianized for over a thousand years. Tom had been named after the Apostle to whom they traced their religious heritage. 

After we had a chance to eat a little, she said, "Now please tell me what you know about my son." That was a difficult question. I told her the facts that I knew- his educational and professional history, his interests, influential moments from his past. I told her about his character, highlighting the many qualities I admired. 

"And his future plans?" she prodded. I recounted to her the gist of our conversation about his hopes and plans for the future. She seemed satisfied with my answers, and the tone of our conversation softened. We talked about Canada and her family in India. She told me some stories about her son, including a few embarrassing ones I would need to remember for later. As we prepared to leave the restaurant, she said, "I'm sure it's no surprise to you that Thomas is speaking of marriage. Please understand that, especially in his case, we want to be very cautious about that, especially since we had never met you." 

"I understand. And I hope you see that this isn't something he's being tricked or pressured into. It's taken me almost by surprise." 

"Oh, I imagine it has, dear. And that it will continue to surprise you, I have no doubt. A woman your age doesn't often expect such things...but is probably better able to appreciate them. Now, one last thing. Could you please give me a tour of your shelter? I would like to understand what you do. And bring Gina, too, if she's available." 

I did as she asked, and Gina was just as surprised as I was by our visitor. We toured the facility, and Regina seemed very interested in it. She asked good questions and even slipped away from us for a minute to go talk to one of the women in the lounge area of the living quarters. She came back teary-eyed and asked us to take her to the clinic for our last stop. 

We toured the clinic, and both Kara and Denise were effusive in their praise of Thomas, who was with a patient at the time. He emerged a few minutes later and walked nervously over to our group. Regina put her hand on his arm and said to me, "I wouldn't dream of taking this young man away from his work this afternoon. Is there some place I can go to help out while I wait for him?" 

We tried to steer her towards a place to relax after her flight, but Regina insisted on doing something. "Don't underestimate these old hands," she said, holding them up. Gina saved me by offering to take Regina to the volunteer station and help her find some work for the afternoon. Once they were out of sight and the nurses were attending patients, Tom pulled me into his arms and squeezed me. 

"I think you did well," he said. "She wouldn't still be here otherwise." 

I looked up at him and asked, "You really didn't know she was coming?" 

"She showed up in the clinic 3 minutes before I called you. I think she figured she'd get a jump on us and not let us prepare for an interrogation." 

"You owe me, big guy," I said. 

"All I have is yours," he said with a smile. 

******* 

Regina asked to have Thomas to herself that evening. They had a lot to talk about, and they had his father on the phone for most of the discussion. She flew out the next morning, and Thomas and I met for breakfast. I asked how the night went. 

"I can tell you all about it another time," he said. "But in brief...it was good. Mom likes you, Dad trusts her, and we talked through some of the details that would be involved in getting married." 

"And I didn't need to be in on that conversation?" I teased. 

"Not that side of it. But...well...Dottie, how do you want this to go? I mean, do you want the whole fancy proposal and rose petals and music and surprises?" 

"Oh, goodness no, Tom. That's not my style at all. Besides, I feel like we're engaged already." 

"Good. Me too. Then, as for a wedding..." 

"Nothing fancy. It would probably be hurtful to our friends here if we didn't have a little something, and I don't know what your family wants..." 

"We talked about that. If we could go up there for a big party with my family and their friends, that would be good. But we could do that, I think, as a...honeymoon?" 

I laughed, trying not to spit out my English muffin. To think of me, at this age, going on a honeymoon! Once I composed myself, I said, "Well then, how about a simple little ceremony here, then off to the Great White North?" 

"How long would it take to plan something like that?" Tom asked. "Because, to be honest, I don't want to prolong this. I...I really want to be with you, Dottie." 

"We could probably pull it off in less than a month. And since we're being honest- at my age, you don't want to have to wait any longer than necessary for things!" 

******* 

Three weeks. It took us three weeks to get everything together. During that time, we consolidated our living quarters, having Tom move his things into my house- the same place Glen and I had lived in for most of our life together. We made arrangements to have a few doctors volunteer time to keep the clinic open 3 days a week for the two weeks Tom and I would be gone. Gina effectively took over my responsibilities for a month (which is what I'd been training her for, anyway), and we were all set. 

Tom's parents and a few close friends came to the wedding. There were only about 40-50 people present, mostly our staff and their families. Glen's successor at the church, Pastor Don, officiated. Macy catered another exquisite feast, and I felt silly the whole time. It seemed like we were play-acting. But then I would look up at my husband-to-be and it all felt so real and right. 

Was I really getting married? Was I really marrying this younger, handsome, doctor? Was I really going to be having sex again tonight, after 16 years of celibacy? Our physical relationship had been heating up, but we still hadn't done much more than kiss and pet. We would spend the next night in my (soon to be our) house, flying up to Canada the next afternoon. That bed would see some action tonight! 

We had planned a late-morning wedding, giving us time to have a reception and not feel hurried to get home before we were too tired to enjoy our wedding night. The reception was fun, including a good amount of jokes at Tom and my expense. The age difference and the racial difference were both sources of some good-natured ribbing. We left mid-afternoon, eyes sparkling and hearts thumping. 

As Tom drove us to the house, he asked, "Are you nervous?" 

"It's been 16 years, dear. I'm excited and nervous." 

"It's been almost that long for me, too," he said softly. We had never talked much about his sexual history- just that he had one serious girlfriend in college but had been very devoted to his work since then. 

When we got to the front door, Thomas surprised me by sweeping me up into his arms and carrying me into the house. I whooped in surprise and gripped his neck. He pulled the door shut behind us, locked it and carried me straight up the stairs into the bedroom. 

"This way I know you won't change your mind and run off," he said jokingly as he put me on the bed. 

"Not a chance, lover-boy," I said, eagerly shifting my legs around. "I may be nervous, but I'm also eager." 

"You don't know how good it is to hear that," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. 

"Let me," I said, kneeling on the bed and reaching up to his buttons. Tom rubbed his fingers through my hair as I unbuttoned his shirt. I pulled it off him and lifted up his undershirt. His chest was lean and muscular with sparse, dark hair. I put my hands flat against it and moved down to his abs, which were tight and toned. 

"I never thought I would have this pleasure again," I mumbled to myself. Tom just sighed loudly, his hands resting gently on my shoulders. I looked up at his face and saw his eyes were closed, his head leaning back. Not wanting to interrupt his peaceful moment, I continued undressing him, pulling open his belt and letting his pants fall to the floor. I could see through his boxer briefs that he was endowed proportionate to his height, and that he was as eager as I was. 

Tom stepped out of his pants and slowly reached around to the back of my dress. It was a very simple wedding gown- nothing fancy for my third marriage. He pulled on the small bow between my shoulder blades, then kept pulling as the ribbon unlaced along my back. Once the whole ribbon had been removed, it only took a small shrug of my shoulders for the dress to fall to the bed. Tom slid his hands down to mine, then stepped back, holding my arms out as he admired my body. 

To my great surprise, I blushed. Here I was, a blushing bride on her wedding night. Tom had somehow made me feel young and innocent again, and his smile grew as his gaze moved up and down. "Beautiful," he said. I rolled my eyes, unable to contain my natural cynicism. 

"Of course you would say that," I said, "you just married me. But you don't need to exaggerate for my sake. I'm a well-preserved older woman, but I'm still an older woman." 

"Dottie, we're going to have a difficult time of things if you can't trust me. When I say beautiful, I mean beautiful. You are a delight to my eyes." 

I started to respond but then thought better of it. If my new husband believed I was beautiful, then let him go on believing it. I had nothing to gain by divesting him of that illusion. But speaking of divesting... 

"I don't know about you, Romeo, but I've had about enough waiting. My long-neglected lady parts are telling me they're ready for some action." I moved backwards, getting out of the pile of cloth that had been my dress, and lay down on the bed. Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and slipped off his socks. He then turned his attention to my panties. Taking them gently by the waistband, he slowly pulled down. My breathing quickened as I lifted my bottom off the bed, allowing him to pull the thin garment past my hips, exposing me fully. He slid them off my feet and tossed them onto the floor. 

"We won't be needing those for the rest of the day and night," he said lightly. 

"Oh really?" I asked. 

"I'll make sure of it," he said, moving his hands to my sides. Reaching behind me, he unclasped my bra and lifted it off, tossing it over next to my panties. "I feel like a kid at Christmas, opening his presents," he said quietly, staring at my hardened nipples. 

"Just so long as you don't act like a kid at Christmas and only play with the wrapping paper," I joked. That seemed to snap him out of his trance and he looked up at my face with an eager grin. 

"Not a chance!" he shouted, pouncing over me. I instinctively put my hands and knees up to keep from being crushed, but Tom wasn't landing on me. He was crouched over me, his face an inch from mine. Our eyes met, and I allowed myself to get lost in that deep look. Just as my body relaxed, he leaned down and kissed me. Our kiss worked up steam and I pulled away just enough to mumble, "We don't need to stop this time." 

"Or ever again," he added, moving one hand across my chest as he resumed our kiss. 

"Can't wait any more," I said into his mouth, and grabbed the waistband of his underpants. I started pushing them down, but was limited by how far my arms could reach. Tom rolled onto his back and deftly slipped them off. 

"Lady's choice," he said, looking over as he lay next to me. "How do you want our first time?" I thought about it for a few seconds while his hand ran along my breasts and shoulders. I thought back to my other first times and decided to continue the pattern. "Climb aboard, lover. I'm ready," I said playfully, opening my arms and spreading my legs. 

"I can already tell you're going to be a fun lover," he said, positioning himself over me. He both took part in lining his shaft up with my entrance, which was better lubricated than it usually was. 

"At this point in life, I just can't take sex, or even myself, too seriously," I said as his tip nestled into my entrance. 

He paused and put a hand on my cheek. I looked up at him and he said, "That, Dottie, is a part of your irresistible charm." 

I smiled, trying to learn to take accept his praise, which seemed never-ending. My smile quickly became a wide-eyed gasp as he began to push in. I didn't know if it was because he was the largest of my three husbands or if my passage was tight from years of disuse, but the sense of fullness pressing into me took my breath away. He pushed halfway in, then paused. I started breathing again and smiled. 

"Don't stop now," I chided him, "I can take it!" 

"It's not you I'm worried about right now," he said, slightly strained. His eyes were shut and he was breathing quickly. I gently rubbed his chest and arms as he tried to slow his breathing. "Fifteen years is a long time. I'm a bit overwhelmed by the sensations," he said. "You feel perfect. Better than I imagined." 

"Are you still young enough to go more than once in a night?" I asked. 

"With sufficient motivation, yes. And you, Dottie, are very sufficient motivation." 

"Then just do what you need to and I'll catch up on round two. Don't torture yourself over some illusion that we both have to cum every time." 

Tom opened his eyes and laughed at that, his arms shaking as they supported his body. "Listen to you, girl! A fun lover and the pragmatic manager." With that, he lowered himself, supporting his weight on his elbows and he wrapped his forearms under me. Pulling back a bit, he pushed the rest of the way into me, eliciting a groan as he stretched out my tunnel. 

"OK," I grunted, "Now you should wait." 

"Are you OK?" he whispered. 

"Yeah, just...full. Gimme a minute to adjust." I squeezed his tool, using muscles I had forgotten I had. I moved my legs around a little, trying to relieve some of that delicious pressure. Taking my leg movement as a sign to go ahead, Tom began pulling back. When he thrust back in, I moaned softly. As he started a rhythm over me, I moaned and gasped with each slow thrust. I don't know how he stayed at such a slow pace, knowing how on edge he was. Once he was moving smoothly in and out, he found my lips again, and we kissed for the first time as lovers. 

That kiss seemed to be all he needed to push him over the edge. He moved his head to the side, resting it on the pillow, and gave three or four hard pushes into me. I spread my fingers over his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles going taut as he reached his peak. His muffled voice next to me started to cry out. 

Baby...Oh God...Oh God...baby! Yes!! AAAUUUUGHH! 

As he came, he pushed even deeper, painfully reaching untouched depths inside me. I winced at first, then felt the soothing throb of his release bathing me. After three pulses, he pulled halfway back and pushed in again. I held on to his strong body, knowing that the best thing I could do for him in that moment was to let him use my body for whatever pleasure he could get out of it. 




Of Hope Lost and Found Ch. 06



As he finished cumming and began to come back to coherence, he turned his head, which was still next to me on the pillow, and whispered in my ear, "I love you Dottie." In response, I squeezed him- with my arms and with my walls. Then, with a deep breath, he abruptly rolled us over so that I was lying on top of him. "Are you anywhere close?" he asked, taking hold of my hips and slowly pushing against me. I gave him a questioning look, and he said, "You've probably got a few more minutes before I slip out. No sense wasting an opportunity." 

I laughed at his frankness and started sliding forward and back. "Usually, I won't be close so quickly, but today is special." 

"Special?" he teased. 

"A month of foreplay had me ready to pop," I answered. "Let's see if I can get there quick enough." 

"Just let me know what you need," he smiled. 

"Let me see," I mused, feeling my body reacting to the friction I was finding between us. "I need a tall, dark, handsome doctor to marry me and fill me with his younger cock." I was starting to gasp as the reality of it all washed over me. I was really, truly married to this man. I was a newlywed! This wasn't a fantasy anymore. This was flesh and blood- his flesh and blood under me, inside me, gripping me. His hands were everywhere, trying to take it all in. His eyes were all over, as if they would never again have the chance to see me. 

I knew I was close. My moans were short and high-pitched. My breathing was getting raspy. I bent down, putting my head on his shoulder and arching my back, trying to keep that perfect friction of my clit against his pubic bone. Just another rub. Just one more. Almost...almost...Then I seized up and shouted. My hands on his upper arms gripped tight and my nails dug in. I felt the urge to push down and feel him deep as my walls spasmed around him. 

My cries became one prolonged groan as I shuddered and shook. Then I let my full body rest on top of his as I continued to tremble and writhe. I heard myself mumbling and murmuring, and as I came to my senses I could hear myself saying, "I love you, I love you, I love you," over and over. Tom slowly rubbed his hand along my back, as if to comfort me. In that moment, I needed no comfort. I was as happy as I had ever been. I closed my eyes and lay my head on his shoulder, feeling his shaft shrinking inside me. 

"Wake me for round two," I said softly, my eyes closing. Tom laughed gently, and stroked my hair. 

******* 

I dozed off, but only for a few minutes. Tom was still stroking my hair when I awoke, and I felt his essence leaking out of me. With a sigh, I reluctantly got up and went to the bathroom. I almost didn't recognize myself in the mirror. The glowing smile on the face of the woman in front of me was unlike anything I'd seen for a long time. As I stood there thinking about the odd turn my life had taken, Tom's dark figure moved up behind me. His arms wrapped around my upper body from behind, his hands gripping the sides of my breasts. I smiled and leaned my cheek against his bicep. 

I felt like I should say something. But no words seemed right, so I sighed and held his arm. After a minute of staring a our reflection- my pale skin and silver hair against the darkness of his body- Tom released me and said, "I'll grab some dinner and bring it upstairs." 

At the word dinner, I winced with regret. "We were so busy that I barely got to touch the food at the reception. I can't believed I missed one of Macy's feasts!" 

"I know, babe. Gina warned me that the bride and groom usually miss the meal, so I asked Macy to drop some things off before the wedding. We just need to pop them in the oven." 

"Oh, you gorgeous genius! Thank you!" This was something I wasn't used to- for so long now, probably ever since Glen's illness took hold, I had never had anyone taking care of me. No one looking out for me. Gina did a little of that at the office, but as far as my personal well-being went, I'd been on my own for a while. I was usually the older one in the room, even in my Horton House days. At work I was the director, the manager, and still the Mother Hen. 

But now I had Tom. Tom was thoughtful and caring, Tom was anticipating my needs. Tom was reminding me what it was like to be loved. I finished washing up and went back to bed. Out of habit, I started getting out some clothes to put on, then with a smile I let everything drop to the floor. I wouldn't be needing those tonight! 

******* 

Even when you're in your 50's, you still dream about the future. Maybe you've gotten wise enough to know you shouldn't put all your hopes in those dreams, because you don't have as much time left to work towards them, but the habit of dreaming is impossible to break. Maybe our vision of how the world should be is never fully realized, and we always want to be moving things a little more that direction. 

In any case, Tom and I spent a good deal of our honeymoon dreaming. Leading up to the wedding, we had spent our time talking about whether or not we should have a future together. We hadn't really talked much about what that future would be like. Most of our dreams centered around Hope's Advocate, which was only natural since that was the future we envisioned together. 

Tom talked about expanding the clinic and making it a place where young doctors could get some experience. I talked about an idea for offering a co-op daycare for low-income single parents. We had already had someone approach us with a plan, we just lacked the funding. We joked about Gina and her plans to adopt every child that passed through our doors. So much of it seemed like just dreams- we already had our hands full! And that's when Tom surprised me again. 

On our last day in Canada, we had a dinner with just his immediate family- his parents, his sister and her husband, and us. Tom asked me to talk about some of our dreams for Hope's Advocate. His family seemed excited by some of the ideas and asked practical questions about what we would need. I deferred details to the experts, but I could at least talk about the big picture. 

I noticed that Tom's dad was jotting down some figures as I spoke. He handed them to his daughter, who pulled out her phone and left the room. I looked to my husband and said, "Do you mind telling me what this is all about?" 

Tom smiled. Regina said, "Dottie, when I came down to meet you, it wasn't just because I'm a protective mother. My husband and I did very well in business. When our children chose not to follow in our footsteps, we sold the company and planned to give them their half of the profits when they married. But there's always a risk that someone would marry one of my children just for their money." 

Tom spoke up, "So I convinced them to not give the money to me...but to give it to Hope's Advocate, instead. That way there's no confusion over why you married me." 

My eyes were wide with shock. I mumbled, "As if him being a handsome, intelligent, and caring man wasn't enough reason..." 

Regina went on, "After seeing what you do there, and especially after meeting you, we loved the idea. So if you don't mind, we'd like to fund a few of your dreams." 

"A few?" I said in shock. 

"Think of it this way," Tom leaned over and whispered to me, "We can hire another doctor so I can have some time off. And we can set up your daycare center. And maybe see what ideas Gina has." 

I was stunned. "Ho-ly sh-" 

Tom interrupted, "Dad will clear it with the lawyers, and I already gave Andrew a heads up to start crunching some numbers. I took the liberty of assuming you'd be OK with this," he smirked. Heedless of our audience, I pulled Tom's head towards mine and gave him a kiss he wouldn't soon forget. My news just laughed with delight. 

******* 

Our first night back in at home, I was riding Tom while he looked up at me, grinning. "I feel like I have the energy of someone 30 years younger," I panted. It was true- Tom, marriage, everything had rejuvenated me. I felt like I was in my sexual prime, and I felt like I was ready to take on the world. When I said as much to Tom, he grunted back that it was a good thing I felt that way. 

"Why?" I asked, sliding forward and back, grinding myself into a frenzy. 

"Because," he gasped, "for one thing, your husband is going to be insatiable in bed. And for another, you're going to have plenty of new projects at work." 

I barely heard him, because I was just feeling the tightness in my core that told me I was ready to snap. I closed my eyes and shivered, feeling my husband begin to release inside me. His cries of pleasure fueled my own excitement, and I lay down to embrace him as I joined him in cumming. I trembled, thinking of all I had experienced in life- so many good and beautiful things. I trembled again, thinking of how much goodness still lay ahead. 

The End