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The Difference

By: Ashson



Lords Harry and Brian, relaxing with a post-dinner port. As far as Harry was concerned, a very successful dinner. Now he and Brian could relax, having the rest of the evening to themselves.

The interruption when it came was not appreciated.

"Come in," growled Harry. 

Mrs. Swinton, the Housekeeper, came in, almost grovelling at having to interrupt Harry's port.

"Frightfully sorry, sir," she gasped, "but we've got a discipline problem with a couple of the maids. I wasn't sure how to handle it and I referred it to Maxon, but he said he wouldn't touch it, not on his life he wouldn't and that I'd have to speak to you and you'd sort it out."

"I have to sort out a discipline problem with a couple of the maids?" asked Harry, incredulous. "I've never known a problem with the maids that you haven't sorted out tout de suite."

"Well we haven't had a problem like this before, now have we sir?" protested the housekeeper.

"Well I wouldn't know. I don't know what the problem is yet," grumbled Harry, his temper not improved by hearing Brian sniggering off to the side.

"Well, it's Ellen and Chloe, sir, and I don't know how to handle it. If you could handle it yourself or tell me what to do?" There was pleading in Mrs. Swinton's voice now.

"Ellen and Chloe?" mused Harry. "Who the hell are Ellen and Chloe?" he asked.

"They're the two new maids, sir. They came on recommendation from the Bishop, sir. They've been helping with the young ones at the orphanage up until now, but at eighteen the Bishop said that they're far too old to stay at the orphanage even if they do help with the young ones and he insisted that they be given jobs and you said you'd take them because he's your uncle."

"Oh, yes." Harry remembered his uncle prosing on about good works and a chance to help those less fortunate and to shut him up he'd told Mrs. Swinton to take on two of the girls. Now his good deed was coming back to bite him.

"Things are slowly becoming clearer, but only slower. We've now identified who the culprits are but not what they did."

"Oh, they were watching, sir," said Mrs. Swinton, redfaced.

"Watching?" asked Harry, flinging a goaded look at Brian and deciding an early death for laughing idiots was much to be desired.

"Yes, sir. I came across them looking through a knot hole in the floor."

"I see. And if it's not too much trouble, perhaps you could tell me what they were watching?"

"The men, sir. When they went to the jakes. The girls were trying to look at them."

"I see. And did they tell you why they were doing this?"

"They said they wanted to see the difference, sir," explained the housekeeper, her face now a deep red. "There was only girls at the orphanage and they wanted to know why men are different. Maxon said it's my fault and that I should explain it to them and that I won't do. I said he was senior and he should do it. That's when he said not on his life and I should pass it on to you as you're the Master."

"So let me see if I've got this straight. You want me to chastise the maids for trying to peep at the men in the jakes, and then to explain to them the difference between men and women." 

"Yes, sir," said the housekeeper with a smile. "Shall I send them in now?"

Harry looked helplessly at Brian. 

"How drunk are you?" Brian asked him.

"I'm not," sighed Harry. "This is really happening."

"I know it is. I'm not drunk either. I stayed sober to keep you company through that damned dinner and intended to get drunk now that it's over. Not to be, it seems. You can't put it off or it will haunt you all night long. Be brave. I'll keep you company."

Harry sighed. "Give me five minutes and then send them in, Mrs. Swinton. You needn't stay," he added, to her immense relief.

"Now what do I do with them, damnit?" he asked Brian.

Brian considered. "What does Mrs. Swinton normally do to punish her staff?"

Harry considered. "She yells at them, docks their pay sometimes, gives them dirty jobs and occasionally hits them with the soup ladle."

"So which of those can you do where these maids are concerned?"

"They don't earn enough to be worth docking their pay, and they probably already get all the dirty jobs. That leaves yelling and hitting them with the soup ladle," Harry grumbled.

"You're the Master. You don't yell. You speak to them quietly but firmly. It'll scare them more. And you don't hit them with a soup ladle. You'd be better off having them bend over the desk and giving them a firm spanking."

"Hell. The telling off I can do, they already know they screwed up. It's just a case of reminding them of that fact and warning them of future consequences. Spanking? Fair's fair. I'll spank one while you spank the other. Just don't overdo it. Bright red bottoms, not bruised and blistered."

Brian laughed. "I think I can spank a maid for you. After all, what are friends for? I'm interested in how you're going to explain the difference."

Harry sighed, and then yelled enter as the door was rapped. The door opened and the two nervous maids were ushered into the room. Mrs. Swinton then closed the door and hurried off, washing her hands from the whole affair.

Harry sat back and looked at the two young women standing before him. For a minute he just sat, saying nothing, staring coldly at them while their nerves punished them.

"Do you know how often I have to speak to maids about their behaviour?" he finally asked them.

On receiving a shake of the head, he continued.

"I don't," he said. "My staff are supposed to know that they shouldn't do things that will get me involved. You are members of my staff, are you not?"

When the girls nodded, apparently not having voices, Harry promptly spoke.

"Then why are you here in front of me? I am very disappointed. The Bishop assured me of your sterling character. What am I supposed to tell him if I have to turn you out for misbehaviour. He'll be shocked at your behaviour. What did you think you were doing?

When neither girl seemed able to speak, Harry pointed at one.

"You, you're Ellen, I believe," he said feeling relieved that he'd got it right, when the girl nodded. "Would you care to explain?"

"We're sorry ,sir," she mumbled. "We didn't mean any harm. We just wanted to see for ourselves."

"So Mrs. Swinton told me. Did it occur to you to ask Mrs. Swinton or Maxon about the subject?"

Ellen blushed. "We didn't know how to ask her, sir. We were too embarrassed."

"I see. So this is a better solution than a little embarrassment? Did it occur to you how embarrassed I'd feel if my guests had discovered your little pastime?

You do realise, don't you, that if it hadn't been for the Bishop's personal guarantee about your characters, Mrs. Swinton or Maxon would probably have discharged you on the spot. As it is they've left the decision to me. Would I be right in saying that this was just a momentary aberration?"

At the girls' blank looks he rephrased it. 

"That means you're sorry and it won't happen again."

Both girls nodded. 

"I very much doubt that Mrs. Swinton or Maxon will give you a second chance, so I suggest that you be very careful in future. Now the matter of punishment. If you'd made such a mistake at the orphanage, what would have happened?"

"The mistress would have strapped us," Ellen mumbled.

"Well, I don't have a strap, but I can't help but think it a good idea. The pair of you will bend over either end of the desk, facing each other. You will also lift your dresses exposing your bottoms. Lord Brian and I will then proceed to spank the pair of you."

Pointing to Ellen, Harry indicated one side of the desk and then nodded to Chloe to move to the other end.

Reluctantly the two girls moved into position, leaning over the desk and lifting their dresses to the waist, revealing snow white bottoms and long and shapely legs.

"Not expecting to have to punish anyone," said Harry, "I don't have a strap or a paddle in the office. If you wish I can send for one, otherwise you'll have to feel my bare hand. Which would you prefer?"

The girls looked at each other and gulped. Then Chloe mumbled "Hand, thank you, sir."

Harry looked at Brian. "They're eighteen, so I think eighteen should do."

Brian nodded solemnly, while Harry could see him practically shaking with laughter.

Passing Harry, Brian murmured quietly. "Would you look at those bottoms and legs? They give new meaning to the term nubile."

"Oh, by the way, girls, if you feel like screaming, don't. I don't want to hear it," Harry told the nervously waiting girls.

Nodding to Brian, Harry then swept his hand down and around, terminating on Ellen's bottom. A matching spanking sound came from Chloe's bottom, with both girls giving a little squeak.

Slowly counting off the strokes, Brian and Harry spanked the two girls. Harry was pleased to see that his assessment was accurate. The two bottoms were getting a nice red glow, and would be uncomfortable for a while, but nothing that the girls couldn't handle. There would be no unwanted bruising.

Finishing the spanking Harry and Brian stepped back.

"Don't move, thank you," said Brian, as the girls started to stand.

Turning to Harry, he explained. 

"They want to know the difference between men and women, remember. You're going to have to explain to them. It occurs to me that with the girls bent over like this, we're off to an excellent start to not only tell them but to demonstrate how things fit together. 

As you can see," he added, gently reaching out and gently poking Chloe's pussy, "they're exposed and that will make things easier all around."

Harry glanced at the girls, about to refuse, only to be startled by the hopeful looks on their faces. They didn't know what they didn't know, but they definitely wanted to learn. He reached down and gently rubbed Ellen's pussy, feeling her edge it towards his touch. 

He sighed, knowing that having men spank their bare bottoms had roused the girls and that he was going to take advantage of that fact. "Ah, well," he thought. "They have to learn sometime."

Making one last attempt at being a gentleman, Harry told the girls that if they preferred, he could insist that Mrs. Swinton explain the subject to them. She may not want to, but would if so directed.

"It would probably be better for us if you did, sir," said Chloe. "Mrs. Swinton doesn't want to and if you make her she'll take it out on us. We're already looking at doing the worst chores for the next month, and we don't want it made even worse."

Harry yielded gracefully. With those pert little bottoms uplifted, the red glow on them looking like a blush, and those lips peeking out from between smooth white thighs, it just seemed too much trouble to try to fight temptation. 

Stepping up behind Ellen, Harry reached around and started undoing the buttons on the front of her dress. Brian promptly matched the move, helpfully opening Chloe's dress. It didn't take long before both girls had their breasts exposed, delighting the men's eyes.

Cupping Ellen's breasts, Harry explained.

"One difference between us is these delightful breasts you have. You'll find men like playing with them, the way I'm doing now. This is one of things that you shouldn't let a man do unless you're married. You see how they swell slightly when I do this, and how the nipples stand out? That is their way of telling you they want to be touched some more."

Both girls were blushing slightly and breathing harder, looking at their own breasts and then glancing across at their friend's, comparing how they were each reacting.

Harry and Brian continued playing with girls breasts for a while, and then Harry continued his lecture.

"Once you let a man play with your breasts like this, he is going to also reach down and play with your bottom and pussy."

Suiting actions to words, Harry dropped his hand to Ellen's bottom and started stroking downward, sliding his hand down around the natural curve until he was cupping Ellen's mound. Squeezing it, he continued.

"It is not considered proper for you to let a man stroke you this way. You may find you like it, but I assure you it is not the right thing to do unless you're married. Very soon we'll show you some other activities that you should only practice during marriage. I hope you'll take careful note of them."

All the time he was talking, Harry was stroking and squeezing, slowly building up heat within Ellen. From the gasps he could hear coming from Chloe, it seemed Brian was taking full advantage of the situation as well.

Fingers dipping between lips, touching where they should not, Harry and Brian caressed the two maids, stoking their internal fires while at the same time causing an internal flood of juices that seemed to burn the girls.

Feeling the time was right, Harry took a step back from Ellen and started undoing his trousers. Ellen turned to look at him, breathing deeply and squirming restlessly. He had stopped touching and she wanted it to continue. Then she saw him undoing his trousers and her eyes fastened on his crotch, wondering what was there.

Harry released his erection, hearing a gasp from both girls, and smiled as he saw they were both looking at him in fascination. Brian gave him a wry grin, and drew Chloe's attention to his own erection.

"Now, girls, this is the main difference between us," Harry told them. "Where you have pleasant places that a man wants to explore, there comes a time when he needs to go deep inside them. We'll show you how to let this happen so that when you marry you'll know what your husband expects. As this will be the first time for you, you may find it hurts a bit as it goes in. Just try to ignore that initial hurt and let yourself relax around us."

Harry eased Ellen's lips apart and slid his cock between them. Advancing slowly, he was soon brushing against her hymen, which held firm against his pressure for a moment before breaking, causing Ellen to squeak at the sudden pang of pain. He heard a gasp of satisfaction from Chloe and threw a look at Brian who was grinning smugly, having penetrated her painlessly it seemed.

With her hymen out of the way, Harry slid smoothly into Ellen, bringing little squeaks from her as he slowly stretched her to accommodate him.

With Ellen fully nailed at last, Harry paused and thought about continuing his lecture but quickly saw that the pair of girls were too busy concentrating on new feelings to listen to him. He shrugged and started moving.

The girls might have been virgins but they were quick learners, seeming to feed off each other's excitement. Very shortly two little bottoms, still with their red glow, were bobbing eagerly up and down, enjoying these new sensations.

Harry and Brian were quite experienced at this game. When you were a lord, it was surprising how much opportunity came your way. Enjoying both the experience of educating virgins and the excitement of the now ex-virgins, they took their time, letting the girls excitement build.

Soon it was obvious that both girls were reaching for a climax as, for that matter, were the two young Lords. Taking a deep breath, Harry spoke to Brian.

"Ten pounds say I can delay mine until after yours," he snapped.

"Done," said Brian, promptly slowing his stroke, and then swearing as it seemed the sudden change of pace was all it took to make Chloe explode under him.

Watching the disgruntled Brian now driving hard into Chloe to release his own climax, Harry laughed, and was also disconcerted as that caused both Ellen and himself to climax.

Harry stood there afterwards, still embedded in Ellen, his arms around her holding her breasts.

"Now girls, you know the basic differences between us," he told them. "I want to stress that this sort of activity should be kept until you are married. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," gasped Chloe. "Thank you very much, sir."

"Excuse me, sir," said Ellen, still gasping herself, "Is it the same way with every man or do different men feel different?"

Brian intervened at that stage.

"I can't really say, Ellen," he said smoothly. "The only way for you to know would be to try with a different man, but as Lord Harry said, you should keep this sort of activity until you are married. However, if you ask Lord Harry he might be agreeable to letting you come back here tomorrow evening, and I'll show you what I'm like and Chloe can experience Lord Harry. Then you can decide for yourself if we're the same." 

Looking at two pair of entreating eyes, Harry cursed Brian for a lecherous satyr. But he knew that the next evening he would be teaching the delectable Chloe her next lesson in men.

The Difference a Year Makes



"Nice bracelet." 

The customer smirked at the pink, blue, green, and purple circle around my wrist. I nodded without looking at it or him. It was a gift from my daughter and I wasn't willing to talk about it, especially today, and definitely not to someone who was being such an ass.

"Here is the invoice for the repairs. If you'll just sign it on the line at the bottom." I slid it across the counter with a small feeling of satisfaction. The total at the bottom was an eye-popping amount, just what he deserved for not knowing how to shift his foreign made status symbol properly and frying the clutch.

The grimace on his face as he handed me a credit card and signed the slip I passed back was even better. I was in a black mood already and having to come into work for his petty bullshit was enough to almost make me forget I was a business owner. I wanted this done and him gone. Dylan was waiting for me in my office while I dealt with this schmuck who tried to question the integrity of my manager and my garage. Honestly, I'd rather do without his type of business, even though I bet he would need more work done on his baby real soon.

The bracelet crack was just his parting attempt to get back at me after I threatened to just take the new clutch off his car and let him tow it away if he didn't pay up. He was pissed but he paid. Dealing with dickheads was a part of my job that I hated but it was the cost of being the owner of my own business. I had to take the bad with the good.

And if I hated to admit it there was some small good to the situation with Mr. Attitude. Delaying what I really wished wasn't my duty for the day was actually a blessing in disguise. I was dressed in black slacks, a button down shirt and dress shoes, not because I didn't do the day to day dirty work in the garage as owner, because I did. I was cleaned up because I was heading to the cemetery as soon as I was finished with the customer Danny hadn't been able to handle.

I didn't really want to face what the day meant; my first year as a single dad, the anniversary of the day my life came to a screeching halt. A patch of ice, a car crossing the center line, and in one split second of wrong place-wrong time, my wife and daughter were gone. Falling to my knees, holding Dylan as I found out, I thanked god that by a fluke teething fever he was with me at the garage rather than out Christmas shopping with them. At the same time I was cursing God and sobbing because we were now all alone. The girls that meant the most to me in the world were never coming back.

Danny had dropped to his knees beside me and wrapped us up in his strong arms. He was my anchor that day, just as he had been since we met as teenagers. He helped me plan a double service for my wife and daughter and stood by me as I laid the other half of my family to rest. The comforting grip around my shoulder and the squirming child I had held in my arms had been the only things that kept me from falling onto the pair of polished oak caskets and sobbing. I was a wreck for weeks afterward. Danny kept the garage going and checked on me every night.

He brought me casseroles his wife made and stayed to make sure I ate some of them. He held Dylan and me as I broke down, offering me a shoulder to cry on. He was the best friend any man could have. There wasn't anything I wouldn't do for Danny in return.

"I'm really sorry I had to call you in today, Cole. That guy was threatening to call his lawyer and I was losing my temper with his bullshit."

"That's okay. It's fine." Danny just looked at me. "Really! I know you thought I should take the day off and I even agree, it's just..."

"Not easy," he finished for me. He reached up and squeezed my shoulder.

I nodded with a frown. "Yeah. That and more." I rubbed my neck; I was so tense it hurt.

Danny looked over at the repair schedule. "Do you want me to go with you? I could take my lunch early and close the garage," he offered.

I shook my head. "I think Dylan and I need to do this by ourselves. Or at least I do. A toddler isn't going to understand but I need him there with me."

"He's your family, I understand." Danny looked down, shuffling some parts catalogs.

"You're my family too, it's just..." I just couldn't explain exactly how I felt, not even to myself.

Danny gave me a hug. "You don't have to try and explain. Go get Dylan and do what you need to do."

I could hear Dylan gurgling in his playpen in my office. His happy sounds and the rattling noises meant he had gotten hold of Mr. Bendy, his flexible plastic rattle that looked like an orange alien. It was his favorite toy and he loved it. That sound was a balm to my frazzled nerves. Without him to look after I probably wouldn't have been able to pull myself together when my world shattered. But my baby was my world now. I worked to provide for him and I spent every moment I wasn't working caring for him. Unable to delay any longer, I headed toward my office.

"Oh hey, before I forgot, I'll come by with dinner tonight. Lisa threw a casserole together and taped some reheating directions on it. I'll run home to clean up and then bring it over around six." 

I turned around in the doorway to my office and looked at Danny. "Yeah, sounds good. I don't think I'm going to be up to much cooking tonight. I don't think I'll be much company for you guys though."

"Actually it will just be me and you'd be doing me a favor. Lisa is going to her mom's house for dinner. Spending extra time around my mother around the holidays?" Danny shuddered with an exaggerated look of horror on his face.

I shook my head with a wry smile. Danny and his mother didn't exactly see eye to eye. She always thought her daughter should have married a lawyer or doctor. Lisa loved her mother though and Danny adored Lisa so he put up with her mother's attitude. For the most part. 

"Alright, you can hide out at my place. Now get back to work before I dock your pay!"

Danny arched an eyebrow at me. "Yeah right, BOSS." 

He flipped me off as he turned to walk back in the shop. I walked into my office smiling and shaking my head. Dylan saw me and grinned.

"Daddy!"

I loved it when he said that. I bent over and picked him up out of his playpen. "Hey buddy, that's right, I'm Daddy." I kissed his dimpled cheeks and snuggled him into my chest, closing my eyes. He was an amazing blend of his mother and me. He got her blond curls and full lips, plus her sunny disposition. He had my bright blue eyes and dimples though. Sometimes looking at him made me sad but for the most part I was just thankful that some part of her was still in the world with me.

I struggled to put his waving arms into his coat and then buckled him into his car seat as he babbled at his toys. I pulled out cautiously into the light traffic that ran in front of C&B Auto Repair. Owning a garage had always been my dream and Bethany had supported me when we finally saved the money to start it. It had only been open about two years when I lost her. The last year the garage had taken a lot of my time which made juggling childcare with Dylan hard sometimes, but I was lucky to have several very sympathetic women neighbors. Sometimes too sympathetic, but I had walked the fine line so far between friends and more than friends.

Danny had picked up a lot of slack too, always there when I needed him. It was close to the holidays, maybe I should think of a bonus for him and the other two guys I had working for me. They deserved it. I kept my mind firmly on the garage as I made my way to the cemetery. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel as I drove slowly and carefully, chewing on my lip the whole way.

I had been here before of course. I came once a month to lay flowers and make sure the stones were tended but this was the anniversary of the worst day of my life; this was different. This morning exactly one year ago I woke up and made love to my wife. We had breakfast as a family and I kissed her and my daughter goodbye before they walked out the door and pulled down the snowy drive for the last time. 

This morning I woke up to a cold empty bed; tears streaming from my eyes as I buried my face in my pillow and wished that the last year was just a bad dream. My pillow was soaked when the sobs finally eased. The horrible feeling that nothing was quite real filled me through breakfast, a cup of bitter coffee and cheerios for Dylan. 

It still hadn't gone away.

I could feel the trickle of tears already falling down my cheeks as I pulled through the black wrought iron gates of the Vernon Cemetery. I slowly drove along the winding road and parked closest to their graves. As I was getting out of the car an icy wind blew through my coat; I shivered and hurriedly buttoned it. Pulling Dylan out of his car seat I tucked his hat down closer over his ears and wrapped his chubby little body in a blanket. Bethany would never have forgiven me if I let him get chilled.

We made our way slowly across the dead grass, bouquets of hothouse lilies held in my free hand where Dylan couldn't mangle them. Coming to a stop, I stared at the black marble slabs that bore my loved one's names. Bethany Nicole Matters, Beloved Wife and Mother; Marissa Eleanor Matters, Beloved Daughter and Sister. The dates stared back at me; May 14th, 1984-December 4th, 2009. 

My wife was just 25 years old, a young mother who would never watch her son grow to a man. March 27th, 2005-December 4th, 2009; my darling daughter, precocious and always full of joy. She would never go to school, have her first kiss, or hold my arm as I walked her down the aisle on her wedding day. 

I gently laid down my burden of flowers on each grave. The numbness that had been blanketing me fell away as I fell slowly to my knees; Dylan sleepily snuggled into my chest. I cried as I talked to the cold stone, pouring out my love and sorrow. I smiled through my tears and told them of Dylan and how he had grown. I promised that I would never forget them, that Dylan would never forget the mother and sister he lost.

He sat still in my arms, one hand buried under the blanket to rest on my neck, connected to me as if to remind me of the fact that we still lived and had to go on. Unwillingly, I just stood up and kissed my hand, pressing it to each tombstone as I said goodbye to my girls yet again. Tears coursed down my cheeks in freezing trails that I didn't bother to wipe away. 

It was time to go.

"I'll always take care of him Bethany, just as I know you will always take care of Marissa. I love you both."

I held back a sob, biting my lip. "Goodbye."

I didn't look back.

My hands shook a little as I buckled Dylan back into his seat. I sat with the heater running full blast for a few minutes to thaw my frozen hands. Taking a deep breath, I put my car in gear and eased onto the road and back out. I was still crying but I felt a deep sense of relief and peace. This day would never get easier but I was here, Dylan was here, and we would be okay together.

We had almost made it home when a street light changed quicker than the car in front of me expected it to. They slammed on their brakes and fishtailed in the road before coming to a stop just over the line. I always gave plenty of room so I was able to come to a controlled stop horror filled me when I looked in my rear view mirror.

A blue mid-size SUV was barreling toward us at what seemed like a high rate of speed. I could even see the panic on the man's face behind the wheel as he got closer and closer, his brakes squealing as his tires locked and slid on the slick ground. I braced myself, waiting for the crunch and screech of metal on metal. All I could see after that brief look was the memory of the police coming to my office door at the garage, a resigned look on their faces as if they were all too used to giving bad news. 

'I'm sorry Bethany,' I thought, 'I just promised to protect Dylan. No, it's not his time yet!' One arm went to reach into the backseat but I was unable to reach my sleeping toddler.

"No, no, no..." I didn't realize I was speaking out loud until I felt the impact that pushed my smaller four door sedan into the car in front of me. I felt the momentum of the car as it shoved me forward in my seat belt to crash into the steering wheel and dashboard before my body whipped backward to slam into my seat. I grunted in pain, still locked into a moment I remembered over and over in my nightmares. I didn't feel my car come to a stop or hear Dylan screaming until I felt my door wrenched open and heard a frantic voice cut through the fog clouding my mind.

"Oh my god! Are you okay? Stay still, don't move. I called 911." 

I gasped as hands running over my neck and shoulders brought me back to the present. I had no idea what he said; I heard the words but they made no sense. What I did hear were the frantic cries of my son from the backseat. I wrenched my seat belt off and shoved the man out of my way as I got out of my open door. I scrambled around the car, almost skating on the packed snow. I was panting as I tried to pry open the jammed back door behind the driver seat.

"Hey! Sit back down. You need to stay still, you could be hurt."

Hands were on my shoulders, gently pulling at me but I shrugged them off. I looked at the front of my car buried in the back of the car in front of me and a woman talking on a phone in the driver's seat. I couldn't go that way. There was a gap behind my car where the left side of the trunk and car was crumpled and the SUV had bounced back. I headed that way, breaking the grip on me with ease. I didn't see the look of shock on the man's face or hear the approaching sirens; I had to get to Dylan. 

His door opened easily, the frame of the car held intact as it was meant to. The side impact air bags had inflated but his seat had been locked into the latch system as well as the seat belt and was still tight in place. His five point harness was still securely buckled exactly where it belonged and there was no blood on him that I could see. 

"Shh, baby, shh... Daddy's here, shh..." I touched his face gently, trying to get him to stop crying. His arms were waving at me frantically, I knew he wanted to be picked up but I had enough wits about me to know he needed to be checked out by the paramedics first. I fell to my knees onto the hard ground, half in and half out of the car. I crooned brokenly to Dylan and letting him clutch one of my hands as I gently strokes his face with the other. I could sense someone behind me but ignored them; my son was my only focus.

It was the cool blue nitrile of the paramedic's gloves turning my face toward them that finally broke into my zoned out mind. Dylan was still whimpering but even that was quieter as he calmed. I was panting in between my comforting murmurs but I ignored that.

"Sir, let us get in to see him, please." 

I nodded, stumbling backward when I stood up. Hard hands caught me by the shoulders and pulled me into a firm chest before I could fall. I shuddered and then moaned when sharp pain burst through my fog, almost like glass grinding in my chest as I tried to breathe.

"I think you need that other ambulance there." I resisted the attempts of those hands to move me when I heard Dylan screaming for his daddy as the paramedic ran her fingers over his head and neck, talking to her partner who was writing things on a clipboard. 

"It's okay, you can still see him, they are just over here, only a few steps away. You need to be checked out so you can take care of him, right? Let them do their job."

I finally let the man draw me away, leaning into his hands as I began to realize how much my chest hurt and how hard it was to breathe. The man hovered over me as the paramedic checked my pulse and listened to my chest. The way I was breathing was apparently a tip off to him right away.

"I'm pretty sure you have at least one broken rib, sir. Breathe as you slowly as you can, this is just oxygen." He put a mask over my face. "Now, does your neck hurt?" 

I shook my head.

"Good. Go ahead and nod or shake your head but try not to talk. I also need you to try and keep your torso really still for me. I'm going to cut off your shirt now." I did as he asked, struggling to breathe through the mask they had put over my mouth and nose. The air was cold on the bare skin of my chest as I sat in the back of the open ambulance.

The police arrived and began to talk to the man who was watching me almost as closely as I was watching Dylan. I realized then who he was; his face had been the one I saw in my rear view mirror right before his car plowed into mine. I tried to summon anger but I couldn't; I was too relieved that Dylan seemed okay. My body was hurt but I knew I wasn't going anywhere, fate had not struck my family twice, and I could only feel relief at our escape.

The man was earnestly answering the cop's questions, taking full blame for hitting me and then pushing my car into the one in front. I was a little surprised at that. He was rubbing his neck a little but otherwise seemed unharmed. The other paramedic had checked him out but he said he felt fine and told him to go check out the female driver of the car in front of me. Then they started to remove Dylan from the car and I was too busy watching them take Dylan out of the car to focus on anything else though.

They set him on a waiting gurney, checking his limbs and back. Grabbing his blanket from the backseat the female paramedic wrapped him up and brought him over so I could see him. "It looks like he's just fine. You had his car seat set up perfectly. I wish all parents were as conscientious as you."

"Oh thank god." I sagged in relief, no longer able to really hold myself up; the fear swamping me disappeared and now all I was aware of was the pain. 

"Whoa there, Dad. Let's get you to the hospital for some x-rays before you puncture a lung." The paramedics helped me climb carefully into the back of the ambulance. "Officers." The cops turned to face them. "We're taking them into Peyton Memorial, if you need to get Mr. Betters for anything further."

"Thanks, we'll be along in a little while for your statement." One officer was filling out a report with the male driver while the other came over to my ambulance before they shut the doors. 

"We usually call out Ace towing to accidents unless you have another preference. I will bring the paperwork with us when we come to the hospital."

"Thanks. Ace is fine," I panted, "I know Carl. Tell him he can tow the cars to my garage, will you?"

"Your garage?"

"C&B Auto Repair. I own it." I was panting harder now as my chest felt tighter. I was more focused on Dylan's little fingers wrapped around my finger as I sat on the gurney than on the officer's questions. 

"Alright you, enough talking. Time to go." The driver shut the doors and we headed off to the hospital. I winced as every pothole jarred my body causing sharp pain in my ribs. I moaned as we hit one right in front of the hospital. Getting out was even harder than getting in but I was soon on a gurney being wheeled to x-ray. 

It was confirmed; I had 2 broken ribs and some bruising on my lungs. The ribs were just cracked though, not splintered or in danger of damaging my lungs. 

"You're going to be sore for a while and lifting your son is probably not a good idea, it would probably be better to let your wife do that. Do you want us to call her or another family member?" The doctor treating me was older with a kind face, he meant well. It's not his fault I was still wearing my wedding ring and he made a perfectly reasonable assumption.

"She... She's gone. She died a year ago." I hadn't cried after the SUV crashed into us but remembering what day it was and the loss it represented hit me again, breaking through my shock. I squeezed my eyes shut as tears fell. I drew in a shuddering breath and winced at the pain in my ribs. I grunted and pressed on the bandages.




The Difference a Year Makes



"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there someone else we could call? I really don't think you should be alone tonight in case your breathing gets worse."

"My friend Danny. He should be at the garage still. He'll spend the night at my place with me and Dylan." I looked up; Dylan was being passed around the staff at the nurse's station, his giggles and dimples charming everyone. I saw the police officer from the accident scene coming down a side corridor and spot me, then head my way. The doctor saw him as well.

"Alright, if you give me the number I'll have the nurses make the call. In the meantime they'll draw up your injury instruction sheets and discharge paperwork. You'll need to follow up with your regular physician."

"Thank you, doctor." I recited the garage's number and he wrote it on my chart before he handed it off to a nurse and moved on to the next patient across the hall. 

"Hello Officer." I sat propped up in bed in just my pants, the thin gown they gave me to replace my shirt was still beside me on the gurney where I set it when they taped me up. I pulled it over me, uncomfortable being exposed in front of the other man. 

"Hello again, Mr. Betters. You're looking a bit better. Not so pale."

"Thank you. Actually, you can call me Cole. Mr. Betters makes me seem so old." I smiled ruefully. Sometimes I felt old, a widower with a young son and a harried business owner at the age of twenty-seven.

"My name is Officer Jones. You can call me Cameron if you would like, I'm pretty much off shift." He smiled at me and put the papers he was holding on my rolling table. "Here is the paperwork from Ace Towing, the driver said he knew your garage and he towed your car and Mr. Krepp's vehicle over. The other driver, Mrs. White, opted to use her own mechanic."

I nodded. "You have questions for me?"

The police officer pulled out his report form and took down all of my information and my statement. He went to copy the paperwork for me at the nurse's station right before Danny rushed in. He practically ran over to my side, getting ready to throw his arms around me in a big hug of relief. I put a hand up to stop him, even that small movement hurt.

"Stop! Broken ribs. No hugging." 

Danny froze a moment, the gently reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "You're okay, Dylan's okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine." I wanted to sigh but stopped myself, to avoid the pain. The pills they gave me were helping but breathing was still a painful struggle. "Dylan wasn't hurt at all; I've got some bruises on my lungs and 2 broken ribs."

"Well look what I found." The officer came back carrying Dylan who was giggling and pulling on his badge. "I saw your friend come in here and thought you might be getting ready to go." He held out Dylan who had started reaching toward Danny with both arms as soon as they came in the room. I couldn't help but smile myself at the gentle smile on Cameron's face as the pair snuggled.

"Here you go Cole, a copy of your report." I looked down at the papers he handed me, seeing his number inked on top the copies. My eyes widened and I looked up at him. He winked at me when I didn't say anything.

"Uhh... um, thanks." I closed my eyes briefly at my stammering response. Smooth.

"I feel comfortable telling you that your story matches those given at the scene by the other drivers. I don't think there will be any trouble from your insurance in this situation. I'm glad your son is okay. Get healed up now, okay?" He offered me his hand, his grip firm but gentle. 

"Let me know if you need anything."

I shook his hand. 

"Thank you Cameron," I said as I looked up and met his eyes; an appealing shade of light cornflower blue. They were full of warmth and his smile was gentle. I couldn't help but feel a little flare of interest despite the hell of a day I'd had. 

I could have died. Dylan could have died. Human contact, warmth, the kindness of strangers were all reminders that I was still here, still alive. Now I just needed to learn how to live again.

I dropped his hand but kept my smile, thinking about how a bad accident on an already tough day actually led me to a realization that I had been missing. I was still here, my son was still here and life would go on; good, bad, indifferent, it was up to me. I vowed then and there to make it good, for both of us. No more hiding, no more feeling sorry for myself. I had Bethany and Marissa for just a few short years but I would treasure them always but it was time to face the future, not avoid it feeling guilty that we lived when they didn't.

"You're welcome." He waved and said bye to Dylan, getting a giggle and wave in return. He was still smiling as he walked away. I was watching him when I saw the man who had hit my car coming toward me. If he came in here and Danny found out he was the one who hit us it could turn out bad. Danny was unlikely to be forgiving even if the man did look like someone was tearing out his insides.

"Hey Danny, I think it's going to be a little bit before they get my paperwork done and everything. Do you think you could take Dylan to the cafeteria and get him something to eat? He's got to be starving by now and I didn't think to have someone grab his bag out of the car before the ambulance guys took off."

"Sure. I'll be back in a little bit." I breathed a quick sigh of relief when I saw him go out and turn in the opposite direction of the approaching man. He was standing at the nurse's station, waiting until the nurse on the phone finished but was looking around the bays around the nurse's station until he saw me. He looked down swiftly and I saw his hands clench.

He shuddered a little and then started walking again. His walk was smooth, powerful. He was a big guy, tall and solid without being overly muscular. I was disturbed to realize that was a fact I had unconsciously absorbed when he had tried to hold onto me at the accident. I hadn't felt attracted to a man as more than a passing appreciation since I had gotten serious with Bethany. I hadn't noticed details like that about anyone, man or woman, in the last year at all. 

"Umm, hi," he said when he stopped a few feet from my gurney. I stared at him silently, unable to speak.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I'm sure you're mad. I wasn't paying enough attention and I tried to stop but I couldn't. You seemed really out of it at the scene so I wasn't sure if you heard me tell you that. I just... needed you to know how sorry I was and make sure you guys were okay." His voice was deep and thick like honey. It almost flowed into me as he spoke and I had to fight off a shudder, wary of the pain it would cause.

"I'm not mad, really. It was just a really bad day to get in an accident." The thought was a bitter one but the tone I used was pleasant, almost light. That was strange. I wanted to slap myself upside the head but that would just make me look stupid.

He relaxed a little, actually meeting my eyes. His eyes were a dark green that looked almost shiny, like a holly leaf. I gasped when I saw them and then had to grab my chest as pain shot through me from my broken ribs. I groaned at the pain which only made it worse. I was hunched over breathing in short sharp pants, unable to catch my breath as I tried to ride the wave of agony.

"Keep your breaths short but slow them down, try not to pant." His hands were on my shoulders, pulling me back upright. The heat from his hands gave me something to focus on; they were hot and he had long, strong fingers, easily supporting me as I struggled for air. "That's it, sit up, give yourself plenty of room for your lungs to open up." 

The pain eased as I did what he said. The doctor hadn't told me how to ease the pain when it hit, he just prescribed pain medication. It made me curious once the worst of the pain eased. "How did you know how to do that?"

"I'm a paramedic. Feeling a bit better?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you." I shifted my shoulders a little under his grip and he dropped his hands from my shoulders suddenly.

"Thank you. I've never really been hurt before." I offered my hand to him. "I'm Cole, Cole Betters."

"Peter Krepp. It's nice to meet you, though I have to say I wish it were under better circumstances and a much quieter place." An ambulance pulled up outside the ER entrance, sirens still blaring. He smiled at me, a quirky little grin that gave him a dimple in his right cheek.

I was smiling back before I knew it. Looking in his eyes for at least a minute without speaking, I must have been grinning like a fool until I suddenly realized how long I'd been staring. I looked down and blinked rapidly to suppress the prickle of tears in my eyes as I experienced a surge of guilt. I felt unfaithful to Bethany, even though I had just vowed to move on and start life again. 

Apparently just appreciating someone else was a bit more than I was ready for, but I didn't know how to stop. Peter was... different from what I would have expected. He had showed a lot of compassion and responsibility, coming to see me in person. Between him and Cameron I just felt more alive, like maybe they could become really good friends.

"Sorry about that," I said quietly, looking up at him. "It's nice to meet you."

"So, you own the C&B garage? The officer told the truck driver who showed up to take my car to your garage. You're a mechanic?"

"When I can be." I leaned back against the pillow on the gurney, my breath still a bit labored. I didn't even flinch when he put his hand on my chest.

"Remember, shallow breaths but don't pant." 

I nodded and relaxed a little more under his hand. "I've owned the shop for about three years. My wife used to do the books and work the front office. When she died..." I paused, closing my eyes against the pain of the words. "When she died last year I had to start doing that and doing less of the repairs. I used to think I had the rough end of the stick with the shop but really, people are much worse than cars. Bethany was so sweet and serene, no one would have dreamed about being rude to her."

"I can believe that. I usually only see people at their worst but at least I don't have them long," he commiserated. "I'm really sorry to hear about your wife; she sounds like she was a lovely person." He took his hand off my chest but sat down in the chair next to the bed. 

"Thank you." I smiled sadly. "We opened the garage a few years ago and it turned a bit of a profit pretty much right off. With the economy the way it is I think more people are taking care of their vehicles to make them last so I get a good amount of business. They've been mostly forgiving of my learning curve with the paperwork end of things and the longer repair times. Danny has been taking good care of that end of things and helping to keep me going."

"Danny?" he asked, cocking his head as he looked at me.

"He's my best friend. We've known each other for years, since our first year in high school. He moved to Shelton at the start of the year. I was the quarterback and he was the wide receiver. We still watch most of the Packer games together during football season. He's the only family I have left besides Dylan."

"Every time you answer a question it seems like I think of another one." Peter laughed a rich full-throated chuckle that rumbled through me. I chuckled a little myself. "So, who's Dylan?"

"Well actually, you can meet him officially." I just saw the elevator doors open and Danny get out, holding Dylan's hand as he toddled along. "Oh, umm, Danny's sort of protective and he's in a bit of a tear over the accident. Can we maybe not mention that you're involved in that right off?"

"Sure. If that's what you want." 

"Daddy!" Dylan took off, slipping out of Danny's hand and half ran and half stumbled over to my bed. "Cookie, Daddy!" He showed off his prize, an M&M cookie that was crumbling all over the sheets.

"I see the cookie, Dylan, it looks yummy. How nice of Uncle Danny to feed you sugar before bedtime."

Danny smirked. "What else are good uncles for?" He turned a bit to stare suspiciously at Peter and crossed his arms over his chest. "And you are?"

"Danny!" I was shocked at his behavior; he was acting like an over protective father, suspiciously staring down his teenager's date.

"I'm Peter." Peter offered his hand to Danny.

"Peter who?" Danny said, looking him up and down with his eyebrow raised as they shook hands.

"For Christ's sake Danny, knock it off. Peter's a new friend of mine. Stop being a jerk."

"Well if I'm going to be the bad uncle I figure I need to be the bad friend too. I'll work on my politeness." He smirked at me then turned back to Peter. "It's nice to meet you. If I may inquire, Peter, as to your last name and what you might do for a living, in the interests of getting to know Cole's friend better so that we might be friends as well?"

I started chuckling which made me grab my ribs and groan. "Jeez Danny, I didn't know you even knew half those words. Was that your attempt at being smooth or something?" Danny looked at me to make sure I was okay, breaking off his stare at Peter.

"Lisa has been 'civilizing' me she says." Danny turned back to Peter. "Well? Did I dazzle you with my wit and confuse you into telling me all your deep, dark secrets?"

"Peter Krepp, and I'm a paramedic."

"Oh? Were you one of the paramedics who helped Cole and Dylan today? Is that how you met? You're name seems sort of familiar, have we met before?"

"I was on the scene earlier, sort of. And no, I don't think we've met."

"Krepp... Krepp... I know I've heard that name. Wait... that was the name of the owner of the other car towed to the garage! You were in the accident too?"

Peter looked at me. I looked at Danny in exasperation. "Why couldn't you remember a little less well? Yes, Peter was in the accident."

"Actually, I caused it. I came here to talk to Cole, to let him know how sorry I was."

That set Danny off. His fists clenched as his face turned red. "You have some nerve to show up here! Do you have any idea what kind of day he has been through? What kind of stupid, reckless, moronic idiot runs into someone? I have half a mind..."

Danny was getting louder and louder, leaning toward Peter, stabbing the air with his finger. I knew he was only ramping up. He was normally protective over Dylan and me but with the way the last year had gone he was liable to beat the snot out of the man.

"Danny! We see people who run into other people every day. That's what pays the bills, remember? Accidents happen, Peter is sorry, Dylan is fine, and I'll heal. Stop freaking out."

Danny turned to me, incredulous at my calm tone. He knew how careful I was driving now, by rights I should have been the one freaking out. He cocked his head and stared at me for a minute before turning to look back at Peter.

"Fine. I'll be polite." He took a ragged breath but he wasn't yelling anymore. "You ran into a man who lost his wife and daughter exactly one year ago today; a man that was on his way home from the cemetery where he buried them after they died in a car accident. That is what you did." His voice was icy, the words polite but the tone was vicious and harsh as he informed Peter of the tragedy I was trying too hard to put behind me.

Peter looked more and more horrified, tears coming to his eyes when Danny stabbed his point home with his words instead of his fists. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He put his hand over his mouth and shook his head, turning and walking off swiftly without saying another word. 

"Damn it Danny! He made a mistake driving and caused the pile up but it was an accident! He didn't do it on purpose, he wasn't on the phone or being reckless, he just didn't give himself enough time to stop on an icy road. Yes, I lost Bethany last year but I lost her, not you! If I could accept his apology and not hold a single moment of unintentional stupidity against him then you should be able to as well!"

Danny was looking at me with wide eyes. I was sitting up on the gurney and glaring at him in anger. Dylan was looking at me too, his cookie forgotten in his little hand. I felt bad that I had lost my temper in front of him and yelled at Danny, who was just trying to protect us, even if it was in the wrong way. I held out my hand to Dylan and tried to calm down.

"Hey buddy, it's okay. Sorry, Daddy was talking too loud wasn't he? I'm not mad at you, I promise." Dylan was looking at me with his little mouth pursed as if he was deciding whether or not to believe me. He must have decided to trust me again, holding his arms up to for me to pick him up. I was reaching down before I even thought about it, yelping when I moved wrong and a sharp pain shot through my ribs again.

"Here, let Uncle Danny pick you up, Daddy has owies, remember? Here you go; sit still now." Danny picked up the toddler and put him on the bed next to me. I ruffled his hair, smiling at him as he happily ate his cookie, his concern already forgotten. I looked up at Danny, biting my lip.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. 

"I know you've been going through a lot of this with me. I didn't mean for it to sound like you haven't been affected too. I'm sorry I yelled at you." His gentle hug after our apology brought tears to my eyes. This day had been way too long. "Do you think that you could go find the nurse and see where that paperwork is? I just want to get home."

"Yeah, no problem man."

Danny came back towing a nurse with him and after a few minutes of going over instructions and signing more forms, I was officially discharged. Danny took Dylan out to get the car; fortunately I kept a spare car seat at the garage so we were quickly all buckled in and headed for home. 

"Do you mind just running through the Subway drive thru so that I can get a sub? I'm hungry and I need to eat so I can take some of these pills the doctor gave me." I was bracing against the door as we drove, the turns were killing me.

"Yeah man, that sounds good." 

Danny ordered our subs and Dylan's grill cheese sandwich meal at the shop just a few miles from the house. Getting out of the car was painful, I held my breath to keep from yelping but I breathed a small sigh of relief when I sank into my oversized armchair in the living room. Even that made me wince but it was a lot more comfortable than the gurney at the Emergency Room. Danny grabbed some plates and a sippy cup with juice for Dylan while I cut up his sandwich into small bites. 

The second to last regular season football game was on and watching that cleared the last bit of tension from the air. Dylan was fading fast so Danny got him changed and into his jammies. I read his favorite book, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See to settle him down. He was too tired to squeal in glee at all the animals at the end like he normally did, sleepily drooping his head onto Danny's shoulder with his thumb in his mouth and his snuggly under his arm.

I listened to Danny put him in his crib and turn on his baby monitor, my own head heavy and dull from the pain pills I took after dinner. I thought about going and putting on some sweats to get more comfortable, planning to finish the game with Danny over a drink. Well, Danny could drink; I really didn't think I needed any.

"Hey Cole, Cole..." Danny was gently shaking my shoulder. "Let's get you up, man." Helping me stand up he chuckled as I groaned. "You'll be in bed soon." He gently pulled off the shirt the hospital gave me and then helped me carefully tug off my pants and socks as I sat on the edge of my bed. I slid into bed and Danny pulled the top blankets over me. I sighed.

"I called Lisa and told her I was staying over here tonight. You're not up to getting Dylan out of bed if he needs something. I'll just go crash on the couch."

My eyes were closed, sleep quickly coming to claim me but I forced them open. "Thanks Danny. I love you man."




The Difference a Year Makes



"Love you too."

I tugged the covers a little closer to my chin and fell asleep, secure in the knowledge Danny was there for us.

***

Danny really did try to behave when Peter came into talk about his SUV a few days after the accident. His front end was banged up and we needed to replace the radiator but really there wasn't too much damage. My car on the other hand needed a lot of work. I had a loaner rig for the shop that we used to ferry some customers so I was covered and didn't have to rely on Danny but the first time I drove after the accident was nerve wracking. 

By the time Peter came in several days later I was fine and back to driving normally. Still slow and cautious but at least I didn't break out in a cold sweat just thinking about getting behind the wheel.

He walked in the front office door, brushing snow off his shoulders and then pulling thick gloves off his hands. He stuffed them in his jacket pocket, rubbing his fingers together a little in the warmth of the office. Winter was fully set in and we had two batches of snow flurries that day already. We were in a bit of a lull and I'd sent everyone but Danny home earlier. I had been thinking of closing the shop down and going to pick up Dylan before heading home for a warm soup and sandwich dinner but I was hoping Peter would make it in before lunch. I stood up from my desk and walked up to the main counter.

"Hey Peter."

"Hi Cole." Peter smiled tentatively at me as he stamped his feet on the mat. "You called earlier and said I needed to sign something?"

"Yeah." I rifled through my book on the counter and pulled out his paperwork. "I've your estimate for repairs and I need your signature so we can get your insurance to authorize payment for the work."

"Ok, sure." He looked over his bill and I looked at him while he couldn't see me. I would call his hair brown but I could still see a lot of auburn in it. That made sense with his vivid green eyes. The smile on his face that lit up his gorgeous eyes was more than enough to make me shiver... I grunted a little in pain, my hand going to my still strapped ribs.

"How are you doing?" He looked concerned. "Still in pain?"

"Just an ache most of the time. I just have to remember to be careful." I took the work slip he signed and slid over to me, ripping the copies apart. I handed him the yellow customer copy and then put the white and pink copies back in the binder.

"Not enough to keep you from working though?"

"As long as I stay in the office. Danny threatened to break a few more ribs if I tried to step foot in the garage."

At the mention of Danny's name Peter's smile faded and he looked down. "I really am sorry, about all of this." He looked up at me, his eyes full of sadness. "To lose your family and then on that same day be forced to deal with an accident. That had to have been like your worst nightmare."

I took a short breath and let it out slowly. "It was. But I understand that it was just an accident. You don't seem like the type of person who would risk people's lives. You have to see the results of that all the time."

"Yeah, I do," he said. "It's why I can't believe that I couldn't stop. I thought I had given enough room but it was like nothing was happening and then all of a sudden they caught but by then it was just too late."

"We'll check the brake lines and make sure you insurance gets anything we find. If something was wrong with them the accident wasn't something you could have avoided."

Peter frowned. "Can something like that happen?"

"Well there's a spring in your rear drum brakes. If that gets rusty it can cause a failure in the ABS. In that case you would have just slid right into us, just like you did. It's worth looking into. It actually sounds like what happened."

"Really?" He looked hopeful.

"We'll definitely check but it sounds reasonable to me." I pulled his slip back out and put a note on it and had him initial the changes.

"Thanks for coming in," I said. I started straightening the business cards on the counter by the register for something to do with my hands. I wanted to ask him out but I wasn't really sure how to do it. 

He stood there fidgeting for a minute with his gloves before he took a deep breath. "Would you like to have lunch with me sometime?" he asked in a rush.

My heart raced when he asked. I had a lot of time to think lately with Danny kicking me out of the office after a few hours each day. I had even used some of my extra time to visit the counselor I had seen last year after Bethany and Marissa died. She and I had talked through my realization, at the cemetery and after the accident. My guilt had eased after we talked about it. I had also talked to Danny. 

I liked the cop who gave me his number but Cameron wasn't who had caught my attention that day in the ER. There was just something about Peter that made me want to get to know him better.

"I would like that," I said quietly.

"Great!" he said enthusiastically. "How about tomorrow?" I laughed a little at his eagerness. He grinned ruefully. "I would have asked about today but I have a meeting. But I'd really like to see you tomorrow."

"I'm not sure what we have on the schedule," I said, turning to look on the wall.

"I'm sure I could cover for you with the customers. He'll be free."

Danny was standing in the door to the shop, wiping black grease off his hands on a red rag. He squinted a little at Peter who met his eyes without looking away. Danny walked into the room, stuffing the rag into his pocket. He stopped at the edge of the counter, his face serious.

"I was wrong to say what I did the other day. I was upset and worried about Cole and Dylan but that's no excuse for what I did." Danny leaned against the counter and held out one hand toward Peter. I busied myself at the back counter and let Danny apologize without an onlooker.

Peter didn't hesitate, reaching out and shaking Danny's hand. "I can understand a friend worrying about a friend."

"More like a brother." Danny crossed his hands over his chest. "But Cole and my wife both set me straight. He's not my responsibility and I'm not his bodyguard. He's an adult and knows what he's doing."

Peter winced. "Your wife really got you good didn't she?"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Been married have you?"

Peter shook his head and leaned against the counter, mirroring Danny's stance. "Partner. Strictly gay here. He was the bossy sort though, good at keeping me on the straight and narrow."

"What happened to him? You get bored with the straight and narrow?"

"Danny!" I whipped my head around and stared at him, my mouth open.

Peter laughed. "It's fine. He's still looking out for a friend. It's cool." He smiled at me then shrugged as he looked back at Danny. "He got bored actually. Up and left me almost two years ago for an older man who was willing to be his sugar daddy."

"Paramedics not rolling in the dough?"

"Okay Danny, that's enough!" I stopped him there, appalled at his attitude. I glared at him but Peter just shook his head.

"Don't worry about it Cole. It's good to know you have someone keeping an eye on you." He zipped up his coat and put his gloves back on. "I'm going to be late if I don't head out. Can I pick you up here tomorrow?"

I didn't get in a car with just anyone driving and as much as I was looking forward to having lunch with him, I didn't think I could handle trying. "How about we meet at Sasha's Grill? I haven't gone there in a while."

"Sounds good. One o'clock work for you?"

"Yeah." I smiled at him, "See you then."

I watched him get in his rental car and then turned to Danny. "Do I need to go call Lisa?"

Danny blushed a little and then looked down. "Sorry. I just... I worry about you."

"Well I'm trying to be okay with moving on. It's a good thing but it's kind of hard to think of it that way when my best friend is treating the guy I'm interested in like a prom date in a bad eighties movie." I moved over to Danny and gave him a hug. "I appreciate you looking out for me, but I'm going to be okay. You need to trust me to make the right decisions without you making sure of my date's good intentions."

Danny hugged me back then stepped away. "I'll try to give you some space to do your thing." He smirked at me as he drew out the last word.

"My thing? Okay, now you sound like a bad gay porno movie. You been peeking at my stash?"

Danny blushed. "No!"

I laughed, teasing him some more. "Are you sure? Not even a little curious about what's on the other side of the fence and took a little peek? Just a short one?"

He rolled his eyes. "If I was going to look at porn I'd certainly not be watching eighties gay sex tapes. Maybe you should go get some though, since you have a date with Mr. Green Eyes tomorrow. It's been a while for you, hasn't it?"

My heart sped up a little at the thought of sex. It had been a while since I had sex at all, not since Bethany died. It had been even longer since I had sex with a man, before I met her. I shook my head. "I'm not ready for that."

Danny grimaced. "Sorry, I shouldn't tease you like that." He gave me another hug, "If he doesn't understand you're not ready then ditch him. I can always beat him up if he gets out of line."

"It's just lunch Danny. I think you're the one getting a little ahead of things. I don't even know if we will have a second date, much less a relationship. I won't do casual sex. Especially since I have Dylan to think of. This is just a date."

I was moving on; I was ready for that. I knew I wasn't ready to look that far into the future to try and see where this date would lead but I was willing to take that first step onto the path. Day by day was all I could manage. I hoped that Peter would be there in the future but I was going to go slow. No matter what I was going to start living again.



***

"You look good," Peter said as he met me outside Sasha's. I smiled at the compliment and smoothed down my black dress shirt I'd tucked into my gray slacks. 

"Thanks. I had a meeting today with a local executive car rental company. They're looking for a new shop to service their fleet and the contract could be a real bonus to our end of year financial projections." I knew I was rambling as we walked to our booth but I couldn't really stop myself. I was really nervous. 

"Oh, you look good too." My mouth was a little dry and I gulped down some of the water our waitress brought over while we looked over our menus. 

Peter chuckled. "Thanks." 

"Sorry," I said, blushing. "I just... haven't done this in a long time." 

Peter reached out and touched my hand with his, giving me a quick squeeze. "I haven't either. We'll figure it out together. Just relax, there's no pressure here. Let's just consider it two new friends getting to know each other." 

I smiled at him. "I can do that." 

Our lunch went really well. We got to know one another beyond names and occupations. It turned out Peter was a few years older than me, twenty nine. He lived on the other side of town from me, in a nice downtown apartment building. No pets due to a hectic work schedule, he divided his time between his twelve hour shifts with his partner and hanging out with his friends.

Peter already knew all about me and my job and I didn't want to talk about my dead wife and daughter. That would have put a real damper on my first date, even if it was just a lunch date and Peter tried to say we were just friends getting to know each other. I already knew I liked him a bit more than a friend. So I talked about meeting Danny in high school and playing football. Peter invited me to join up with a spring football league that he played with on weekends. 

When the check came, Peter insisted on paying. 

"After all, I invited you," he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, then I can pay next time. Are you free next Monday?" 

"I have a shift until four that day, but my evening is free." By then we were outside in the parking lot by our cars. 

"I know you said we were just two friends getting to know each other but I already know I like you, Peter. You're easy to talk to, you aren't afraid of the fact that I have a son and a painful past. The fact that you're willing to let me take this at a pace I'm comfortable with really makes me want to go on an actual date with you.

"Do you think you'd be interested in dinner and a movie?" I asked.

I watched Peter's face as I spoke, waiting for his answer. Just because I felt something didn't mean he did. I could be mixing up the signals. It had been a while, maybe he really did just want to be friends.

"I'd love that," he said as he smiled at me. 

"Yeah?" I said.

"Yeah," he echoed, moving closer to me. I froze until his lips touched mine and suddenly I was wrapping my arms around him and pulling him a closer. I kissed him hungrily, opening my mouth when he swept his tongue across my bottom lip. I followed his tongue out of my mouth and into his, exploring the hot, moist depths. 

My eyes were closed as I focused on the heat and taste of him. I shuddered as his hands pulled us even closer and I felt proof of his excitement press against me. I pulled back with a small gasp, breathing hard. I didn't step out of his arms but put a little distance between us. 

"Sorry," he said ruefully, breathing a little hard himself.

"No," I said, "it's okay. I was just as into it as you were. I just... don't want to move too fast." 

"I understand." Peter dropped his arms and I let him go too. He stepped back. "We still on for Monday, right?" 

I nodded. "I can't wait." 

Peter leaned over and pecked me on the lips, but kept his hands to himself. "I'll let you get back to the shop now." 

Over the next few weeks we managed to go out a few more times. The holidays were rough and we didn't get to see each other as much as my friends tried to keep Dylan and me busy so we'd have less time to dwell on the people missing in our lives. I still cried a little on Christmas but Danny and Lisa came over and they reminded me that while my family was gone, I had friends that cared. It helped a lot.

After I had my last check up on my ribs, I invited Peter over for dinner. It was about a month after Christmas and I got to see him interact with Dylan one on one while I finished getting dinner ready. He didn't hesitate to get down on the floor and play with the toys Dylan kept trying to share with him and he soon had my son giggling and yelling his name as they played choo choo trains. I really knew he was good for us when Dylan crawled up into his lap after dinner and fell asleep in his arms. 

"Let me take him to bed," I said. "I'll be right back." 

It wasn't easy getting a sleepy toddler into pajamas but I managed and then tucked Dylan in bed with his snuggly. He rolled onto his side, blinking sleepily and stuck his thumb in his mouth, sucking on it gently. I gave him a minute to settle down and then pulled it out with a wet pop. He grunted and frowned but tucked his hands into his snuggly and closed his eyes. I kissed him and then flicked on his nightlight before I shut his door. 

"He's asleep," I said as I sat down beside Peter on the couch. I snuggled into him and we kissed. 

"Thanks for being so great with him. He really likes you." 

"I like him too. He's a real cutie. I couldn't resist those big blue eyes just like his daddy's," Peter said. "His sexy daddy." 

I could feel myself blush. I leaned up and kissed Peter, my hands rubbing at his shoulders. His arms wrapped around me as he pulled on me until I was straddling his lap. I groaned his hands gripped my hips and he thrust up against me. 

Excitement filled me at the tight grip and the way he held me against him. I nibbled my way down his jaw and sucked on the sensitive skin behind his ear. 

He groaned. "Fuck, that feels good!" 

I agreed wordlessly, hips rocking against his. 

"Cole."

"Mmm?" I asked, busy nibbling on his neck and sucking on his collarbone. 

"I don't want to," he gasped and shuddered when I nipped him and then laved the spot with my tongue, "stop you here but, are you ready for this? We've only known each other," his hands dug into my hips to stop my rocking, "a few months. I don't want to rush you." 

"Not rushing me," I said against his warm skin. "I want you." 

I wanted to feel him naked beside me. I wanted to explore his body and taste every inch. I wanted him on top of me and inside of me. I knew I'd have to make the first move. 

I pulled back and stood up, holding out my hand. "Bedroom?" 

"Hell yes." 

I led him to my room and shut the door. I yanked off my shirt and went to work on his. As soon as it was off I was sucking my way across his chest, nipping his erect nipples with my teeth and then flicking them with my tongue. I dropped to my knees as I drew my tongue down his stomach. I fumbled with the button of his pants, my hands shaking. 

Peter put his hands on mine and pulled me up. "Let me." 

He pushed me down on the bed and I laid there, looking up at him. He watched me watch him, my bottom lip held between my teeth as he slowly undo his pants and push them off his hips along with his underwear in one smooth motion. His erection slapped against his stomach and I swallowed hard. 

It looked bigger than I remembered taking from my last partner and that had been a long time ago. I wanted him though and my trembling hands went to the button on my pants. He pushed them away and undid them himself. 

"I said, let me." 

Peter took control, pulling off my jeans and then pulling my underwear up and over my own throbbing member. His hands slid up my thighs as he spread them apart and settled between them. I tensed a little and then relaxed when he leaned over and kissed me. 

"Relax. I'll take this slow." 

And he did. I was writhing by the time he finished running his hands over my body, caressing me until I felt like my skin was one giant exposed nerve. Pre-cum pooled across my stomach and I was begging him to fuck me by the time he took pity on me.

"Condoms and lube?" 

I pointed at the nightstand and he leaned over me to reach in and grab them. I leaned up and latched on to his nipple, making him groan. I whined when he pulled away. 

"I want to touch you." 

"Later," he said. 

I didn't argue. I was too busy trying not to cum because he'd slicked up one finger and slowly thrust it inside me, caressing my prostate. 

"Ungh." 

I tensed a little when he added another finger and Peter distracted me. His hot, warm mouth slid down over me and I cried out. Trapped between the feeling of his fingers and his mouth I didn't even hear him open the condom wrapper and get himself ready until he pulled his fingers out. 

"Take a deep breath," he murmured as he leaned over me. 

It had been a long time and it hurt when he pushed in, even though he took it slow. I groaned, my hands grabbing at his hips to hold him still when he was fully buried inside me. 

"I'm not moving," he said, kissing me. "Let me know when you're ready." 

It took a few minutes but gradually my muscles relaxed. I nodded at him and bit my lip at the slick slide as he carefully pulled back. The pleasure as he slid his entire length back into me was more intense than I remembered. I moaned continually as he set a rhythm that had us slowly building toward orgasm. 

We were breathing hard, lost in the feel of each other when he shifted his thighs under me and pulled my hips up. The new angle as he slid inside thrust his entire length over my prostate and I shouted at the burst of sensation. 

"More, Peter. Harder, please..." 

He leaned down over me and buried his hands in my hair and thrust against me hard. 

"Oh yeah," he grunted. 

His thrust faster, his stomach trapping my erection between us and rubbing at my neglected length. The combined stimulation pushed me higher and higher but the first explosive pulse caught me by surprise. 




The Difference between Cats and Dogs



I realise that I am leaving myself open to being pilloried by the 'Anonymous' brigade with this story. In a previous story, 'A Good Year' I attempted to delineate between the story, and my comments on the writing process, by italicising these comments. But it didn't work and, of course it was all my fault! I should have italicised the comments I was told. Then, in a comment on my story 'Learning to Love' a member of the 'Anonymous' brigade commented that he had stopped reading because Giovanna fucked Malcolm, when the story specifically had her telling him that he would not let him put his cock into her pussy. If Bill Clinton can get away with claiming that oral sex is not having sexual intercourse then Giovanna did not fuck Malcolm.

This story, in line with my aim to continue to write something that is different, is a story within a story. I am again attempting to delineate between the different sections by formatting them differently, so please, if it doesn't work you might just have to read it closely to understand it. I urge that you do that before launching into your tirade against me, and confirming what we already know, that some, but not all, of the 'Anonymous' brigade are illiterate and uninformed dick heads. 

I have included in this story only a small selection of the script of a play, enough to convey the meaning of the story. CM

*****

My next door neighbour is a bitch. I have been trying for ages to get to know her without a great deal of success. The reason that I persevere is because she is worth the effort, the pain and humiliation.

The difference between cats and dogs is that a dog, if you feed it will love you to death, if you pat it, its tail will wag and it will look adoringly at you. A cat on the other hand, if you feed it, it will treat you with disdain and more than likely slink off when it's finished, without even acknowledging your existence. Talk to it, it will look down its nose at you, pat it and it will turn its back on you. Unless that is, it feels like it, then it becomes a different matter, it will rub against your leg or whatever part of your anatomy is closest, it will talk to you, it develops a two stroke motor, two strokes and it purrs loudly. But any attempt to prolong this show of affection will probably cause it to lash out with its claws and tell you in no uncertain terms to back off.

My neighbour is a cat. If she wants me to do something for her (a rare occurrence), she is a pleasure to be with, she is friendly, affectionate almost. On the other hand, if I should want something from her, or even if I say hello to her before she speaks, I am treated with disdain, she will not even acknowledge my existence.

She's not just any old cat, not your average moggie, oh no, she's an aristocrat, a Siamese, from her piercing blue eyes that look at you, (me) through hooded lids, to the way that she walks. She has that slinking grace of a catwalk model, with that slow cross-over step that creates a provocative sway to her arse as she walks away from me, (a common enough practise) that causes a barely controllable sensation in my groin. The thing is that she knows the effect that she has on my groin, which is exactly why she does it. Like I said, she's a bitch, and I love her.

Her name is Adrianna Conover and she owns a fashion boutique in a nearby shopping mall. Only it's not your normal boutique, oh no, it's a lingerie boutique that sells top end, and very sexy lingerie. Not the kind of everyday stuff you see advertised in brochures and on TV. Not the kind of stuff that the makers of porn videos try to make us believe is sexy, this is the kind of lingerie that men buy for their mistresses, to be worn briefly, in private.

I even went as far as to invent a mistress, just so that I could buy some of her gear. I even went to one of her fashion shows just to see her parading with other models in her garments. She knew that I didn't have a mistress, and, as she strutted the catwalk, she looked directly into my eyes and half smiled at me. She was enjoying herself at my expense.

In case you've got the impression that I'm some sort of perverted stalker, I feel the need to explain this obsession that I have with Adrianna Conover. I am a reasonably successful, but still amateur, Playwright whose works have been presented by some of the leading theatre companies around Australia. I am also a Director in Residence, an honorary title, with our local theatre company. This particular gig doesn't pay any money, but I do it because it gives me the opportunity of nurturing local talent. It also gives me a small scale barometer for my new works, if they work here I can present them to the major companies with a degree of confidence.

I am currently working on a new play specifically so that I can try to interest Adrianna in joining our company in a starring role. In order to do that I have to observe her, her style, her character, her likes and dislikes, at present I seem to fit into the dislike category, in fact everything about her, so that I can construct a character that is both flattering and not too much of a stretch for her acting talents. These are unknown and untested at the moment.

My original concept was to cast her in the role of a mistress to a wealthy man, a Judge or something like that. A successful mistress has her attributes, the ability to have her lover always wanting more, of creating a fantasy that his wife can never compete with. To establish the reality of this scenario I cast myself as the lover, imagining what it would be like to have her constantly keeping me barred up, (in a state of arousal) of wanting her all of the time and not just when we were together. My vision was of us making love, of her controlling it, teasing me into hardness and withdrawing, only to arouse me again before relenting and allowing me to make love to her, while all the time retaining total control over the whole process. This part of the fantasy kept my hand fully occupied. I have never masturbated so much in my entire life, my teen years included.

A reality check saw me ditch this scenario. The local community would never allow me to present a play that could only be classified as pornographic, and I could not see her allowing me to direct her in anything as degrading as the story of a mistress, no matter that it depicted this occupation in a positive light. I would also find it impossible to direct a play like this without making a total fool of myself by declaring my love for her. 

I filed it away on a memory card so that I could read it and jerk off when I was feeling sexually denied.

My next concept was to cast her as a Secretary who falls in love with her boss and he asks her to do something for him that is not only dangerous, but illegal. She at first agrees to his plan, he asks her to do it just after making love to her, this is not set in concrete yet, knowing that following love she would agree to anything. She agrees, but in the cold light of the next day realises that this request is all wrong. How could he say that he loves her yet place her in this dangerous situation. Behind his back she goes to the police. She allows them to talk her into working with them to bring this plan unstuck, and in the process she falls in love with one of the detectives (me). Her boss is caught and she is rewarded by the company CEO and Board with a substantial salary increase and a promotion, but she gives this up for a life as the wife of the Detective. I didn't like this bit, although I could visualise the final scene when I kiss Adrianna Conover (not her character) and she realises just how much I love her, and that she loves me.

Then I hit on a story of a young woman who comes home, following the end of her disastrous marriage, to care for her dying mother. The town has changed radically from the one she left with high hopes, and she realises that she has lost touch with the friends of her past, and that to re-connect she has to find her old self. At her mother's funeral she is shocked to find that her mother had few friends. As she begins the re-connection process she realises that her mother had distanced herself from the few friends that she had, and that her loneliness was of her own doing. It is then that she also realises that her own attitude to her contemporaries, before she left town, has resulted in her having even fewer friends left in town, and she is forced to set about making new friends.

In the play I hinted that Adrianna's attitude to me, if this was indicative of her attitude to other people, was hardly likely to win friends. That to win friends one has to show affection, not on one's own terms, but at all times, to be a dog and love unconditionally, not a cat that shows conditional affection.

I drafted the original script, and put it before the theatre group committee. They accepted it, but were then sceptical when I suggested that we should not cast one of the current female actors in the lead, but instead an untried amateur. I argued that the woman that I had in mind had the looks and style as well as having experienced the same emotions as the main character, so the part would not be a stretch for her. The play was accepted as the next production with the proviso that I was given the task of convincing Adrianna to take the role.

I timed my entry into her world to coincide with her assistant's lunch break. She looked at me for a couple of seconds. "Good afternoon, how may I help you?" No personal recognition, although I knew that she had recognised me.

"Hi Adrianna, as you know I'm Spencer Fletcher, your neighbour. I am actually here in my official capacity as Director in Residence of the Montmorency Theatre Company. I know that sounds pretentious, us being a small local company and all, but I've written a new play and I would like you to read it and tell me what you think of it."

"Why on earth do you think that I would be the slightest bit interested in the scribblings of a small town hack?"

"This small town hack as you put it, has had works performed by the Sydney Theatre Company, Belvoir Street, and several other major companies around Australia, he also has a work in pre-production, with shooting to begin once the Producers lock in the female lead. This work has been accepted for our next production, but before this happens I need feedback on my main character from someone outside the theatre world. There is something wrong with her that I can't place my finger on, and while I have to admit that, externally at least, I have based her on you, it is the internal person that I need help with." This was a blatant ego caress that I hoped would work. The next few minutes were important to me.

"Oh, all right, I'll read your stupid play." She snatched the script from my hand. "If for no other reason than if I don't, you'll continue to look at me with that hang-dog look of yours until I give in." So she had noticed me.

"Thank you, I will respect your feedback, whatever it is."

"It might not be what you expect."

It would probably be exactly what I expect. "That doesn't matter, I just want your opinion. Good-bye." It was me that cut off the contact, I turned my back on her and walked with as much dignity as I could muster from her boutique. As soon as I was out of her sight I collapsed. I couldn't believe that I had just managed to get her to read my play. How well she reads it remains to be seen, I would just have to wait for her reaction.

It took her two days to get back to me. My door bell rang just as I had sat down to my breakfast. I took a gulp of coffee and headed for the door, hoping that it wasn't the Jehovah's Witnesses, who had taken to trying to convert me into their way of thinking.

She stood there, my script in her hand and a purposeful expression on her face. I couldn't work out if this was good or bad. "You bastard." It was bad. "You utter bastard. Have you been delving into my past life?"

"No. I invented a character that I thought fitted your external appearance. I have no idea who you were or what you had done before you moved in next door. The story that went around was that you had returned home to look after your terminally ill mother. The fact that you stayed on after she died led to my invention of the character of Katerina that you see in that play. If it's too close to home, I'm sorry." Like hell I was. The sole purpose of all of this was to get back at her for treating me the way that she had, and to show her that you cannot treat people in that way.

"It's too close to home, yes, but I can see what you're trying to do. You think that I have been treating you like shit with no good reason, and you want to teach me a lesson. But you've fucked up, because you gave this character a reason that is so close to the truth it's scary, as if you know everything that there is to know about me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anything at all about you, I made it all up." This conversation had taken place at my front door. "Look, I'm having a cup of coffee, breakfast actually, won't you come in, I'll make you a coffee and we can discuss this in a civilised manner." I thought for a second that she was going to decline my offer.

She surprised me. "I'd like that, thank you." She sat at the table while I brewed her a coffee, a proper coffee from my espresso machine, that was one of my few indulgences. "I'm impressed." She commented after her first sip. "This is nice coffee."

I was almost going to question her thinking that I'd serve her rubbish coffee, but discretion got the better of me. "Thank you, I hate ordinary coffee, so I have this machine that I can programme to make it the way that I like it. I was hoping that it was the way that you like it as well."

"How thoughtful of you. Getting back to this play that you've written, and the made up character of Katerina. When I first began to read this I was close to tearing it up, and then I saw that, while she wasn't a nice person initially, the circumstances changed her for the better, and I came to realise that these changes are exactly the changes that I need to make."

"Don't change everything about yourself because of this."

"What do you mean?"

"Your character is perfect in the work situation, The style and aloofness that you project are what your customers expect. I have seen you operate and I'm impressed at how well your business character handles some of the situations that confront you. Like the overblown middle aged women who think that, by buying a lacy black bra and panties, they are somehow going to be once more attractive to a husband who is already looking at younger, more attractive women."

She smiled at that. "You really notice people, don't you. You don't just look at the external person, you delve into their innermost being. You are good, I'll give you that."

"Thank you for that, It's reassuring to have this kind of feedback. If I were a dog I'd love you forever."

"What brought this particular analogy on?"

"Well, now don't get offended, but there are people who are like dogs, feed them a compliment and they will love you unconditionally. And then there are people that are like cats, all the flattery in the world will not get them to like you, unless they want to like you. Cats show affection on their terms and their terms only."

"And I'm a cat person, is that it?"

"Yes."

"And you're a dog person?"

"Most of the time, yes." 

"You realise of course that cats and dogs don't get along?"

"Not all of the time. When I was a kid we had a cat and a dog. To say that the poor dog was confused was an understatement. There were times when the two of them slept together, the cat curled up in the middle of the dog, but then there were times when the cat couldn't stand the dog, and would haul off and scratch him on the nose if he got too close."

"And I'm that cat? There are times when I'm friendly towards you, and then the next time we meet I treat you like shit. This is one hell of a play, I must come and see it."

"That brings me to the favour that I want from you."

"Oh?" She was cautious and curious at the same time.

"As the Director, I have to make the final decision on the casting."

"And this affects me how?"

"I would like it, love it, if you would take the role of Katerina."

"No. Oh no. There is no way that you're getting me on stage, especially not in a play that is this close to home."

"But don't you see, this could be good for you, cathartic even. It will give you the opportunity to meet new people, make new friends, not to mention that, as I'm the Director, we will be forced to work closely together."

"So this has all been a lead up to this request, and you think that I would jump at the chance of stardom, so we could work together, and you can break down my barriers and get into my pants."

"No, nothing like that." (There I go, lying again.) "Well that isn't the main reason." I noticed a smile. "I just think that you could bring more to this role than an actor who has to imagine what this character is like. The female actors in the group all lead comfortable, trouble free lives."

"But, I don't think that I could bare my soul on stage, what is it 8 times a week for how long, 4 weeks. You are asking too much, I can't do it." I noticed that she said 'can't' and not 'won't'.

"I think that you can, otherwise I would never have asked you."

"What about you? If you cast yourself as the male lead you will have to bring your emotions to the stage, I have this feeling that you are as damaged as I am, that you are just as much afraid of a new relationship as I am. What is your story Spencer Fletcher?"

This caught me by surprise. I was not prepared to discuss my pain with her or anyone, not even a Psychologist. It was my pain and I would deal with it in my way, and writing is my way of escaping from that pain.

"My story, you don't want to hear my story."

"Yes I do. You are ready to force me into baring my soul in public, so you should be prepared to do the same thing yourself. From what my mother told me, and what I have managed to find out, you arrived here about ten years ago and quickly established yourself as a secretive and reclusive writer who was not comfortable with the world at large knowing anything about him. You hide behind your persona of Writer slash Director of this theatre company, but refuse entry into your life to anyone, no matter how hard they try. They have tried, haven't they, the women in the theatre company?"

"Yes. You are right about all of that. Sooner or later I will have to face the fact that life for me can never recreate my former life, and I should stop trying to live in the past. What do you want to know?"

"Not now, I don't have the time. I've got to go to work and make my fortune. Thank you for the coffee at least." With that she was gone.

I re-read my script and made a few changes based on her reaction to the original, but I still wasn't happy with the result. It was Sunday before Adrianna made an appearance. I was out front washing my car when she walked up my driveway. "Hi Spencer, do you have a minute?"

"Sure, what can I do for you?"

"I want to go through your script with you, I need some changes made before I will agree to taking the role."

Wow! This is a change. She's gone from no way to giving it some thought to yes with changes. I turned the hose off. "Come in and let's have a look at it. I've made a couple of changes myself, but I'm certainly open to further suggestions."

"Before we begin, are you prepared to tell me your story?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, a case of 'no tell no help' with this script from me." She had me over a barrel.

"Now where do we start?"

"Coffee first." I made us a coffee and we sat in my study, she had her copy of the script spread out on the desk and I had both a hard copy and the screen copy on my computer open.




The Difference between Cats and Dogs



I took a deep breath. "Around twelve years ago I had it all, a successful career as an Advertising Copy Writer with one of the big agencies in Sydney. I was married to Jen, a beautiful girl who ran the café where I bought my many cups of coffee during the day. We had plans for the future that included kids and possibly a dog or cat, we hadn't decided which . . . ."

"Darling." We had just made love and were feeling great. "You know that we have plans for children?"

"Yes." Where was this heading?

"Well," She looked me in the eyes and then kissed me. "I am pregnant. I went to see my doctor the other day, he rang me this afternoon and he has confirmed that we are pregnant."

My world had just moved from great to perfect. "That's wonderful, I am so happy right now."

The next day my work colleagues all commented on my happiness, and when I told them the reason, they found themselves included, it was that kind of work environment, where we were one huge family. I was showered with congratulations and kisses from the girls in the office. Life didn't get much better than this. 

It lasted less than a day.

I walked out of my building and headed down the street to her café, only to find it surrounded by police and an ambulance. My entry into the café was blocked by a large policeman. "You can't go in there sir, this is a crime scene."

"But my wife, she owns this place. What has happened? Is she all right?"

"You had better come with me." He lifted up the yellow tape and led me to the end of my dreams. There was a sheet on the floor covering a body. There was Belinda, the girl that worked there sitting at a table in tears and a Detective asking her questions.

"Belinda, what has happened?"

"Oh Spencer, I'm sorry, so sorry." She dissolved into a flood of tears.

"And you are?" The Detective asked.

"My name is Spencer Fletcher, my wife Jen owns this place. I assume that the body under that sheet is her." The corner of the sheet was lifted, she looked so peaceful and it wasn't until I saw the blood oozing out from under her arm that the reality of her death hit me. That was pretty much me gone for the time being. It was hours later that I began to make sense of what turned out to be a senseless waste of, as it happened, two lives. I was in hospital being treated for shock. I had no idea how long I had been there, or how long I would have to stay in this place.

I went back to work a week later, but I was useless as a Copy Writer, I was useless as a man. Everyone was understanding and kind to me. The execs were understanding of my fuck ups and inability to produce. It was me that lacked understanding. It turned out that it was a robbery gone horribly wrong. A man had come into the café wearing a balaclava and pointed a pistol at Belinda demanding money from the register. What he didn't know was that the day's takings had been removed and Jen had just taken it to the bank's night safe. When she walked back in and saw what was happening she reacted on instinct, and threw herself at the man. He attempted to flee the scene but was stopped by a passer-by who held him, none too gently until the police arrived and arrested him. He told the police that he didn't mean to kill her, but that he had panicked and the gun went off. What made the situation even worse was that he was Belinda's boyfriend. He was an Ice addict and he needed money for drugs. He knew that the café was successful, and made a lot of money, but that's where his planning essentially finished. He hadn't thought it through, and he hadn't asked Belinda what the routine was as far as the money was concerned, in fact she did not know, at least that's what she told the police, that he was planning to rob the place.

I was given a month off work. But a month was nowhere near enough, a year would not have been enough, ten years was not enough. I have never gotten over the end of my life, it is still bottled up inside me, this writing gig is a barely successful coping mechanism."

"So there you have it, the sad story of a sad, sad man, living a sad life."

"Jesus, and I thought that I had it tough." Adrianna came around to my chair and hugged me. It was a sympathy hug, I could read nothing more than that into it. "This conversation between Katerina and her mother on page 2, I think that it could be a little more direct." She was attempting to distract me, to take my mind off my pain. It was back to business.

"So do I, but I was treading lightly, I didn't want to scare you off."

"Believe me, when I first looked at it I was scared, but then I read further and now it doesn't fit into what happens later."

I had my own ideas as to how it should have played, so we'll see how close I was. "Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Well, Mother knows that she's dying and doesn't have long to live, so she doesn't care if she offends Katerina, so she tells it the way that she feels it should be told. Look." She showed me her copy of the page and where I had written:

Mother: "You listen to me girl, you think you know what is best for me, but you know nothing. You know it all when you marry that man, and now you come home without him, because you know not enough to keep him. You know nothing about this thing that I have, but you still tell me that you know it all. You listen to me, I was like you, I know it all, but when your father died I thought my world would end, so I don't care about people, I care only for me. Now I have only me."

Katerina: "You have me Mama."

Mother: "I do not have you, you alone have you. If you do like I do you will always only have you. I tell you this for your own good, forget about me, you can do nothing for me now. Think of what you will do after I go. I do not tell you to go back to your husband, but do not turn your back on people just because you have been hurt by him."

In its place she had written:

Mother:"You listen to me girl. When your father died I shut myself off from the world, I wanted nothing more to do with it. And you see what the result is. I am dying, and I am dying alone, because those people who tried to be a friend to me, I turned my back on. Do not do this or you will be like me."

Katerina: "But Mother you have me."

Mother:"Did I have you when your father died? No. Did I have you when the doctor told me that I was dying? No. You come to me only when my life is over, to help me die. It is too late for your help, if this is all that you have come for, you wasted the trip."

Katerina:But Mama, I have to come, I cannot stay any longer in the same place as my husband, he has hurt me as you said that he would. He is a bad man."

Mother:"What did he do that has hurt you so bad?"

Katerina: "He wants to do things to me that are wrong. I cannot let him fuck me in the arse. I cannot let him tie me up and whip me. I cannot let him pee on me. These are just some of the things that he wants to do to me. Then I find that he has a girl that lets him do these things. I can no longer even allow him to touch me, so I leave."

Mother:For this reason it is good that you come to me. Do not turn your back on people because this bad man has hurt you. But it is not a good time for me. I will die soon." 

"This is pretty much what my mother told me when I came home after my bastard of a husband forced me to end our marriage. He told me that if I didn't do what he wanted me to, he would find someone who would. I wasn't to know then that he already had found someone, he wanted me to break off the marriage. I didn't know what to do, the people that I thought would support me turned their backs on me out of loyalty to him. He never allowed me friends of my own. I was lost, and it was the world's fault, not mine. I came home, not to care for her, I never really cared for her, but for her to help me to recover from my own troubles." 

"I'm sorry, sorry that I have opened up old wounds."

"No. I am glad that you did. I have spent the last two years blaming everyone else for my feeling of loneliness. If I am lonely it is my fault. I have no friends, I have business acquaintances, and customers who are friends for five minutes, and then they are gone. Mother told me that you were a good man, yet I turned my back on you when you were trying to be a friend to me. I didn't want to let you into my life for fear that I might fall in love with you, and I have told myself a thousand times, that I will never allow myself to fall in love again, ever."

"I never thought that you would fall in love with me." (You fucking liar, that's all that you've dreamed of since you first saw her) "I had met your mother a few times and helped her out with little things that needed doing, but I could never have considered myself a friend to her. I went to her funeral and it was the most depressing event of my life. I thought that Jen's funeral was depressing, but I had a wide circle of friends and relatives to support me. Apart from you, the mourners were outnumbered by pallbearers four to one, I was the only mourner. I tried to talk to you after the funeral, but you were lost in yourself."

"I was, wasn't I? I remember you trying to speak to me but I wanted nothing to do with anyone. Do you remember the first time we met?"

"Yes. I'd gone over to do something for your mother and she introduced me to you and, if memory serves, you totally ignored me."

"I did, didn't I? And do you know what Mother said to me after you'd gone?"

"No."

"She said to me, Adrianna, this man is not your husband, he is a good man, he does work for me and will not accept payment for it. You need a man like him, he would be good for you."

"But Mother, he is still a man."

"Yes he is, he is a man, your husband is not a man, and unless you see that, you will be afraid to find love again."

I thought about our conversation. "This is good, this is better than what I have written. I have tried to imagine what a mother and daughter would say in this circumstance, and I've looked at it from a male perspective, just stopping short of laying the blame on the woman's inability to get over her problem, and that's the point, I saw it as her problem when it isn't. In your case it was your husband's problem and until you realises that you will never move on with your life. Help me with this dialogue, please."

"I don't know. This is all so sudden, first you just want me to read your play and now, what you're saying is, you want me to help you write it. I just don't know." 

"Let's see how your changes look." I highlighted the original dialogue and deleted it. I then typed in Adrianna's suggested changes. (This seemed to take forever, a combination of my dyslexic fingers and her watching blew what little of my self consciousness right out of the water. Spell checker over-heated with corrections.) "That looks okay, but how will it sound? I'll take your mother's part, you are Katrina." I began in a falsetto voice, trying to sound like an old dying woman. Adrianna came in with her words, her timing was good. "That will work. I can't believe that you have no acting experience." 

"What do you mean, I act all of the time in the boutique, do you realise how hard it is to tell some old hag that she looks wonderful in a black lace bra and panties and not burst out laughing. That's way harder than anything that this play will ask me to do."

We worked our way through the script changing little, Adrianna suggested changes to the phraseology to coincide with how her mother spoke. I hadn't intended to use a foreign sentence structure. "Mother was born in Poland and they speak differently to us, I think that I would be more comfortable if the actor playing Mother used the same accent and structure, if that's okay with you."

"I wanted to, but I couldn't remember exactly how she spoke, I'll be guided by you on this."

So we worked through her dialogue, changing words and sequences in line with the way her mother spoke. It added a depth to the dialogue that wasn't in my original. "How would it be if you were given some of the writing credits?"

"I couldn't, all that I'm doing is to offer some suggestions. This play is yours, the storyline is yours, so no, I don't want writing credits, thank you."

The following week the theatre group met to discuss the play prior to casting and rehearsals.

"Could I have your attention please." I addressed them. "This new play is something that has been floating around in my head for some time. It is basically a two hander, the first act is about the return home of a woman, ostensibly to care for her dying mother, but in reality she is running from the wreckage of her own life. This act ends with the mother's funeral. Act 2 is about her drifting through life, touching base briefly with others but not connecting, It is also pretty much a two-hander, a man enters her life and attempts to connect with her, but she will not let him in. I know that it all sounds depressing, but there is a message in this for all of us. Now I would like to introduce you to the lady that I have cast in the lead role of Katerina, Adrianna Conover."

Adrianna stood and smiled at the group, acknowledging the welcome.

"Adrianna has no formal acting experience, but what she brings to this role is something much more important, an understanding of the underlying emotions running through this character. She has been assisting me in the development of Katerina's character. As for the other roles, most of them are walk-ons, there is little dialogue between the main character and these people, but they are equally important to whether this works or not. I have cast myself in the male lead, not because I consider myself the best actor in this group, but because during the development of this character I have come to realise that I have put a lot of myself into this role. As we rehearse this play I hope that you will understand and appreciate my reasoning for this. Okay, Julie, you are Katerina's mother. I have seen you in similar roles and know that you can bring something to the part. Now, I want you all to take home a copy of the script, read it and get a feel for the incidental roles. We will cast them tomorrow and have our first read through straight away."

I handed them each a copy and they read quickly through the first couple of pages. "Henry." Henry was our set designer. "We need four sets, a bedroom and kitchen with a dividing wall projecting out no more than a metre so that it doesn't block the audience's view of the characters, but still delineates between the rooms. Then we need a Funeral Home interior for the end of Act 1. For Act 2 we need two sets, a cafe interior with one of those flappy doors to the kitchen at the back, and a shopping mall set with store fronts, how quickly can I see the sketches?"

"Preliminaries tomorrow, once we decide on the final design the plans will be ready in a week and the sets complete in three, is that soon enough?"

"Perfect. Right people, extras casting and read through tomorrow. First rehearsal next week, okay?"

There was a mumbled response and they all took their scripts and left. Adrianna looked at me. "I don't think that they appreciated your arbitrary selection for the leads."

"They usually grumble over the casting, but they fall into line quickly enough. Now, how are you with your lines, do you want me to run through them with you?"

"I get the impression that you want to, so yes."

"My place for coffee?"

"Sounds good to me."

Ever since she had decided to come on board with me on this, we have spent quite a lot of time together, and I felt that we were getting to know each other, but I wasn't ready to move to anything more at this point, more to the point I felt that she was not yet ready to move on. What we needed for both our sakes, was to get through this play first. We needed to conquer our demons, our fears of trying again to find happiness, and until we clear that hurdle we were both destined to continue as sad and lonely people.

The next night we had assembled in the theatre. "Spencer," John, the usual male lead, and the one person that I thought would object to my casting myself in the lead role, stood up.

"Yes John." I said cautiously.

"I can understand you casting yourself, I don't have a problem with that. My major concern with this direction to the extras to 'talk amongst yourselves'."

"Yes , that. What I want is for those chosen for these roles to carry on an everyday conversation, as if you were meeting socially. For the café scene you will be seated at tables and Katrina will be coming and going through the door at the back, bringing in coffee and cakes and stuff, just like a normal café. Now I want those involved to behave just as they would in that situation, talk about the things that you would usually talk about, laugh if you have to when someone cracks a joke. The one thing that I didn't want to do with this is to write dialogue that would be used each night, this would lead to a lack of spontaneity. The same for the mall scene, you will be walking across the stage carrying on as if you were shopping, talk about the things that you would talk about under those circumstances. Can you understand why I didn't actually write dialogue for these scenes?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"Read the papers, gossip mags and watch TV, work up topics from these sources, just as you normally would. Now is there anyone here that doesn't feel that he or she can carry this off?" The was no response. "Okay, there are obviously more of you here than we can cope with on stage at any one time. I have a solution. What I have done is to divide the cast up into two groups, the café group and the mall group. This avoids the situation of the audience recognising people who appear in both scenes, it also means that you won't have to think up two different things to say. Any objections?" There were none. "Okay, those of you who want to be in the café scene, and if you're on a diet I suggest that you stay away from that scene, could you put your names on the sheet on that table over there, the others, your sheet is on this table. We will work our way through them, there could be changes, we don't want all the guys in the café scene and not in the mall scene, things like that."

The cast sorted themselves into two roughly equal groups, some went to join one group, and seeing a lack of balance, chose instead the other.

"Good. Now you will have noticed that my character has very little to say, and this is not because I'm hopeless at remembering my lines, it is because my character is torn between his own solitude, and his trying to get up the courage to do something about it. He is basically a coward, and reluctant to take that next step. In the final scene, just as the curtain comes down, he is forced into it. So, in the café scene he will wander in, and look as if he's about to place an order with Katrina, and then retreat out of there. You will all react just as you would if this happened in real life, some will notice it, and their eyes will follow him out, others will not notice him. Some of you will notice the look on Katrina's face as she stares at his retreating back. I'll leave that entirely up to you to sort out."

"The first act is basically a two hander between Katrina and her mother, who is not named. It also introduces, briefly, my character, also not named, who comes in to do some work for the mother and then leaves. He is not seen again until the funeral scene. Julie, have you had some time to get your head around your character? Remember, she is a very sick person who has the time to dwell on her past, and why it is that she is in her present situation, friendless. The back story for those who are interested is that she has never really gotten over the death of her husband, and the fact that Katrina had not listened to her warnings about the man that she married. She is wracked with guilt after Katrina comes home, could she have done more in the beginning, and what could she do now that she is too sick to do much? Against that is the fact that Katrina has not contacted her in the seven years that she was married."




The Difference between Cats and Dogs



"Katrina, on the other hand, is feeling guilty because she had shut her mother out of her life, and just when she needs her the most, she is too sick and is carrying too much baggage to be of any help. She is lost and alone, and unable to move on with her life."

"My character has his own problems. He lost his wife and unborn child in a botched hold-up twelve years ago, and has retreated inside himself and refused to allow anyone to invade his personal space, his personal hell. He helps Katrina's mother from time to time with little jobs, but this is the only contact outside his world. He knows of Katrina before she comes home, her mother has often expressed regret that the two of them have severed contact, so he sort of knows what Katrina is going through. He feels empathy for her, and when he meets her, he is taken by her beauty. His tentative attempts at making contact are rebuffed, and this hurts him deeply."

"From the proceeds of her divorce, Katrina buys a café, and this gives her a series of short-term relationships that have no hope of being extended. In this she finds a kind of comfort. The man has a hobby that provides him with casual relationships with people with similar interests, but these people, because they have other interests, do not lead to anything meaningful. He too is living in a solitary world."

"So, that's the background to this story, which, despite it's heavy subject matter, does have an implied happy ending, the audience will be left wondering at the possibilities that are presented. Will the possibilities be realised, or will they die the death because of our protagonists fear of taking that next important step?"

"Okay, Julie, could you and Adrianna read through your lines. It doesn't matter if you don't nail it at this time, I just want you to get a feel for the characters. As we go through this reading and into rehearsals, I want you to speak in your normal voices. When it comes to the actual performances you will all be miked up, and we'll have a sound engineer manipulating the volume so that those that need to be heard clearly will be, and the extras background noise will, in most cases be kept low with occasional higher levels for effect."

The first reading went better than I had expected. Adrianna was right into her role and at the end of Scene 1, the other cast burst into spontaneous applause. Adrianna smiled at me.

When they reached the part of Scene 1, where I was introduced to Katrina, she looked straight through me as if I didn't exist. She had the look perfected and I could really feel myself the way I felt when this happened in real life.

"You were good, better than good." I told her as we left the theatre after that first reading. This isn't going to drag you down, this reliving the past, is it, because if it is we can call the whole thing off."

"No, its not a problem, although I might burst into tears from time to time. That isn't going to be a problem, with make-up that is, is it?"

"No, although runny mascara might add to the effect. We shall see what we shall see."

As we progressed through rehearsals, the cast got right into the spirit of their part in this. They changed their conversations, keeping them relevant and contemporary. Not having to remember lines kept their conversations fresh, and not stilted as it would if they were forced to follow a script.

It was the night of the dress rehearsal. The theatre was abuzz with activity, the lighting technician was running through the lighting cues, checking the directional spots and floods, raising and lowering the intensity and eliminating shadows. The sound engineer was carrying out adjustments to the personal microphones. In front of house the ushers were showing the invited audience to their seats. The final sound check would take place once the audience was seated.

Backstage make-up was busy, the main characters had been made up and the rest of the cast was going through a production line process, moving from base to shading to completion. Last minute adjustments were being made to costumes.

The production assistant poked her head through the door. "Adrianna, Julie, five minutes."

"Wish me luck." Adrianna said to me.

I smiled at her. "You don't need it, you're ready. But good luck any way." I pecked her on the cheek.

"Okay guys, this is it, you are all ready for this, so go out there and knock 'em dead."

"Two minutes."

Adrianna took a final look at herself in the mirror, kissed Julie on the cheek. "Good luck Mama."

"You too." Julie patted her on the cheek. The two of them had grown close during rehearsals.

Act 1, Scene 1. Curtain opens on a dark set. Light rises as Mama gets out of bed and puts on a robe. She mutters to herself as she shuffles, stooped, to the kitchen. She puts the kettle on and spoons some instant coffee into a cup. While she waits for the kettle to boil she takes a bowl from a cupboard and pours cereal into it, then adds milk. Pouring water into the cup she sits down to breakfast. She takes a spoonful of cereal and puts it into her mouth before pushing the bowl to one side. She drinks half of her coffee, stands up and shuffles back to her bed.

There is a knock on her door (sound off). She gets off the bed and shuffles to stage right.

Mother:"Who is this knocking?"

Katrina:"Mama, it is me, Katrina."

Mother: "Katrina, is it you?"

Katrina:"Yes it's me Mama, let me in." 

(Sound of door opening. Katrina enters and places a large suitcase on the floor beside the table.

Mother:"What is this?"

Katrina:"I've come home Mama."

Mother:"Where is your man, is he with you?"

Katrina: "No Mama, I have left him. He is a bad man and I am going to divorce him."

Mother: "This is good, I never liked him."

Katrina:"I know that Mama, I know that now."

Mother:"You listen to me girl. When your father died I shut myself off from the world, I wanted nothing more to do with it. And you see what the result is. I am dying, and I am dying alone, because those people who tried to be a friend to me, I turned my back on. Do not do this or you will be like me."

Katerina: "But Mother you have me."

Mother:"Did I have you when your father died? No. Did I have you when the doctor told me that I was dying? No. You come to me only when my life is over, to help me die. It is too late for your help, if this is all that you have come for, you wasted the trip."

Katerina:But Mama, I have to come, I cannot stay any longer in the same place as my husband, he has hurt me as you said that he would. He is a bad man."

Mother:"What did he do that has hurt you so bad?"

Katerina: "He wants to do things to me that are wrong. I cannot let him fuck me in the arse. I cannot let him tie me up and whip me. I cannot let him pee on me. These are just some of the things that he wants to do to me. Then I find out that he has a girl that lets him do these things. I can no longer even allow him to touch me, so I leave."

Mother:"For this reason it is good that you come to me. Do not turn your back on people because this bad man has hurt you. But it is not a good time for me. I will die soon."

Katrina:"Don't say that Mama, you will not die soon, I am here to help you."

Mother:"You know nothing about me. The Doctor he tells me that I will be gone in three months."

Katrina:"Is this your breakfast? You haven't eaten it, you haven't eaten much at all."

Mother:"I do not feel like eating. I never feel like eating."

Katrina:"But you must eat. I will make you a fresh coffee and you should eat something." 

Mother:"Do not fuss, it is too late for fussing, I will eat when I feel like eating and now I do not feel like eating. What are you going to do when I am gone?"

Katrina:"I do not know. I will have money from the divorce, I thought that I might buy a small boutique or something, that way I am not working with the same people every day, and once they walk out the door I will not remember them."

Mother:"Listen to my Katrina, I tell you this, you cannot live without other people in your life, without fiends. You do not have to marry again, but you need a good man to show you that not all men are like the ne that you had to marry."

Katrina:"The last thing that I want in my life is another man. I don't know any good men, and I am not going to go looking for one."

Mother: "There are good men out there, there is one for you, you will just have to learn to recognise a good man when you find one."

Knock on door. Mother goes to answer it and returns with man.

Mother: "Can you fix the sink, the water doesn't run away like it should."

Man:"Sure think, I'll just need to take the things from this cupboard so I can get to the trap underneath. Oh Hi." 

He had just noticed Katrina. She does not respond. He says nothing but removes trap from under sink and takes it outside to clean out. He re-installs it.

Man:"There, that should do the trick for the time being, but this will happen again of you keep pouring fat down the drain. 'Bye now." 

Man quickly exits stage right.

Mother: "Now Katrina, there is a good man, he does small jobs for me and he won't take money from me. He is friendly, he is kind, and he would be just the right man for you."

Katrina:"I am not ready for a new relationship now or any time soon, so you can stop trying to match me up with this man."

Mother:"You listen to me my girl. If you turn your back on your friends you will find that very soon you have no friends. I turn my back on my friends and now I have none. Do not do the same as me. It can be a lonely life without friends" 

Katrina: "What do you know of this man, does he have friends himself? Is he married? Is he in a relationship? What does he do for a living? Tell me, what is it about this man that leads you to think that he is a good man?"

Mother:"What I know is that he is a good man to me, that is all that I need to know. If he is a good man to a dying woman and asks for nothing in return, then he is a better man than the one that you chose."

Katrina:"That doesn't say much, any man is better than that monster. I am not ready to even think about another man because I am afraid that I will make the same mistake all over again. Isn't it time for your medication or something?"

Mother: "So you change the subject. Do not leave it too late or you will end up a lonely old woman like me, and I would not wish that on anybody. My pills are on that shelf there, (points to pill container) bring them to me, and a glass of water."

Act 1, Scene 2: Mother is in bed. Katrina is seated at kitchen table reading a newspaper and drinking coffee.

Mother:"Katrina, come to me."

Katrina:"What is it Mama?"

Mother:"I feel that my time has come. When I pass you are to call my neighbour, he has been told what to do."

Katrina:"What can I do now? What am I going to do after you are gone?"

"Mother: "I have planned for this day, he will see to everything."

Katrina:"But why does he have to be the one to do this?"

Mother: "Because I did not know that you would be here, and someone has to do it. He, I know that I can trust to do this thing."

Katrina: "But mother I am able to do this thing now. I can do this now, tell me where everything is, your doctor, I presume that you have funeral arrangements already made."

Mother:"I do not have time to tell you all of this. Please let me sleep now." (Mother closes eyes)

Katrina sits on the bed, bows her head and sobs quietly into her hands. She stays in this position for a minute or two and turns to her mother.

Katrina:"Mother, can you hear me?"

She gets no response. She places her fingers on her mother's neck feeling for a pulse. There is none. She lays down beside her mother and hugs her, sobbing louder.

Act 2, Scene 3: Shopping Mall. People walking back and forth as individuals and in groups. Katrina enters stage left and walks slowly, deep in thought towards centre stage.

Man enters stage right and walks by her and stops. She has seen him and stops. He half turns as if to say something to her, then turns back. As he turns he is jostled by a person and falls against Katrina and they fall to the ground. He gets to his feet and holds his hand out to help her to her feet. They face each other.

Man:"Are you okay, you're not hurt?"

Katrina:"No, I'm fine thank you. How about you?"

Man:"Never been better actually, I'm glad that we bumped into each other like this, it gives me the perfect excuse to speak to you. Katrina, why do you hate me?"

Katrina:"I don't hate you. If the truth be known I have wanted to speak to you for ages, but was afraid to, afraid of falling in love again. Now I need you to do something for me, will you?"

Man:"Of course, what do you want me to do?

Katrina: "Will you hold me, please?"

Man:"I won't ask what brought this on, but gladly." They embrace. 

Adrianna hugged me. We kissed, which wasn't in the script, until now.

"We had better take our bow." I told her, holding her hand. She made no attempt to let go. "We need to talk."

"We do, don't we? I hope that I'm not about to make a fool of myself, but I have come to the realisation that I love you."

"Another bow," I said as the rest of the cast had joined us on stage. "When we get home we can talk, in private."

"Again, I hope that I am not about to make a fool of myself, but I hope that we won't be stopping at words."

My heart skipped a beat or several. My dreams are about to become a reality.

Back stage and all are laughing and chatting as Adrianna and I walked in. There was a queue for the mirrors as make-up was removed. Those waiting sat around sipping on glasses of wine, some were smoking, although this was frowned upon by theatre management, it was overlooked on this occasion.

"I think that went pretty well. Thanks guys, you were all good, but tomorrow night is the biggy, tomorrow we perform in font of the paying public, and the critics, so we'd better be as good, if not better than tonight. Go home and get a good night's sleep and I'll see you here tomorrow at six."

"I hope that you're going to get a good night's sleep, the two of you." John said, looking at Adrianna and me.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Come on mate. All the way through rehearsal there has been a change in attitude between the two of you, you've become more relaxed, not only with us, but with each other, and where in the script does it say that the two of you were supposed to kiss?"

"I guess that I just got a little carried away." I looked at Adrianna and she smiled at me.

"I didn't notice Adrianna struggling to get away from you."

"Adrianna had no intention of getting away from him." Adrianna said. "You are right, we are two individuals that have been dealt a blow that neither of us felt motivated to recover from. That was until we met and Spencer forced me at gunpoint to read this stupid play and to convince me that I should take on the female lead. This was probably the best thing that has ever happened to me, to us, but it took time for me to realise what was happening to me, and allow it to happen. I don't know about Spencer, but I think that we should leave the kiss in, it worked for me."

I pulled into my driveway and stopped my car. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

"No, I want you to walk me into your home, and then I want us to relax a little before you take me into your arms and carry me to your bed and show me the difference between sex and making love, and I show you that you are able to love again."

"For someone who has been shit scared to take the necessary steps to overcome the hurt from your husband, you have certainly taken the bull by the horn here. Not that I'm complaining mind you."

We somehow forgot about the relaxation. No sooner than we had closed the door behind us than we made a bee-line for my bed, our bed, and an hour or two of the most sublime lovemaking that I have ever experienced, at least since Jen and I made love. For someone who has suffered in the hands of a sadistic, hedonistic and selfish lover, Adrianna joined in with enthusiasm. Her mother was right, I would be good for her.

We have found each other, and in the process of this play and the theatre group production, we have found many new friends, good friends. Adrianna's boutique's business has picked up due to the friendships that we have made, and her boutique's reputation for quality high-end lingerie. More and more women are exploring the benefits to be gained by being privately sexy for their husbands and partners.

As for me, I have several new projects on the go, including another film script. We are busy with each other, our lives and friends, and life doesn't get much better than that. As for cats and dogs. I have learnt that unconditional love is more than a response to positive stimulants like food and affection, that there are times when you love in the absence of stimulus. Adrianna has learnt that conditional love is a one way street to loneliness, and that shows of affection can generate a very powerful positive response that is worth the little effort involved.



The Difference Between Homeless and Helpless



A duel fought between an old homeless woman and a vicious young serial killer, in a remote Florida wilderness. Sometimes in the swamp it is hard to tell the hunter from the prey. If you like the story then take a moment and give me a vote and maybe even a comment. I hope that you enjoy it.



The cop looked hard at the old woman as he plundered through her things on the hood of his cruiser. There wasn't much in the way of money, a few coins and two one-dollar bills. The thing that the cop was hassling her over was the razor blades; the old girl had half a dozen single edge blades still with the cardboard wrapped to protect the blade and the person carrying them.

"You use these to chop your coke with?" The cop glared hard at the old woman hoping to frighten her into saying she did. 

She was too smart for that though as she answered him, "No, I use them for scrapping glass when I clean cars." She knew why the guy was in her shit so bad. They didn't want people hitting up the folks going in the Wal-Mart store. They would let the churches in town set up tables and ask for money, but they refused to allow an old woman like herself to ask people for help on their property.

"OK," the cop said as he pushed her stuff back into the sack she had been carrying when they stopped her, "I'll going to let you go this time, but don't let me catch you again or I'll see that you get locked up for a few days." He handed her the bag and pointed to the highway. "I want to see you out of here right now."

As Rita turned to leave she thought that she saw a guy that she had met once before, maybe he could give her a ride. She started to trot toward where his car was moving slowly down the line of parked cars. She looked back once to be sure that the cops had gone on about their business, and was happy to see that they were driving away in the other direction. Fucking pigs, she thought to herself as she closed in on her next mark.

The killer had seen the old woman before, once in the parking lot of the Wal-Mart and once over at the Winn-Dixie, panhandling for change. She was about fifty or so, her hair, once blonde was now something less than blonde more of an off-white sort of color. Her body was trim, probably as much from hunger as from exercise. She was almost running as she came toward his car, like she was afraid that he might leave before she got to him.

Rita had hit on this guy before, she couldn't remember how much she had gotten but he was an easy mark, she just needed to get him to stop and let her talk to him for a minute or so. If she could get him to give her a ride she would most likely get a fiver or maybe even a ten spot before it was over. Hell, maybe he would want a blow job and she could hit him for twenty-five bucks, enough to buy a crack-rock. She just needed to get him to stop.

He studied her as she approached him. You could still see traces of the beauty that she once possessed in her younger days; there was still a physical fire burning inside the old girl, you could see it in the way she was exerting herself as she ran toward his car. He had only heard her talk on one occasion and that was when she hit him up for money as he was getting into his car. She had seemed sharp with a nimble mind when she spoke to him. He had given her two dollars, not as aid, rather more as a salute to her spirit.

"Sir." She called out to him again as her outstretched hand came into contact with his car's front fender. "Sir, could you help me out? I need a ride down to the Palm Grove Motel, are you heading that direction?" As she spoke she sort of caressed his car's fender letting her hands trail along the warm smooth surface until she faced the man with her hands on the roof of his car.

Having placed herself like she had, she now offered a view that was quite enticing to the man. He looked up into her face and saw the pretend pleading in her eyes. He liked the scene, her hands reaching above her head, the pleading expression, even if faked, sold him. She had called him Sir, he always made his victims call him that, it seemed like a sign. He decided that he wanted her.

"Sure, jump in." He reached across the car to open the passenger door as she ran around the front of the car, moving like she was in pretty good shape for her age. His eyes did a quick scan of the parking area, nobody seemed to be giving them any attention as the old woman slid into his car. The door closing behind her sounded solid but muted, as it shut her into his world, separating her from the rest of the world outside his car. He drove toward the parking lot exit, merging into the lines of cars waiting to blend into the highway traffic.

The cold eyes of the killer ran over her body as she settled into her seat. She was dressed in white shorts and a pink T-shirt. She must've been out working the parking lot for a while because her shirt was soaked through with sweat in several dark patches. The AC vent blowing on her sweaty T-shirt was making her nipples get hard, becoming clearly visible even though she wore a bra. He reached out to turn the blower on the air to the highest setting.

"It's awfully hot out there today, this will cool you down in a hurry." He directed the vent so that the chilled air was aimed right at her chest.

He moved his eyes back to the road but not before he saw that her eyes were green. Green like the color of shallow river water when the sun hits it just right. She still had young eyes though she must be close to sixty.

Brushing sweaty hair from her face, she caught him studying her. Rita had seen the interest in the man's eyes as he let them slide over her body. She was a creature of the streets and knew how to play an opening, hell; she had been playing this game all her life.

"You are right about that, it's been so hot today, I thought that I was going to melt." Her eyes tried to find his as she shook out a cigarette. "Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked.

"Yes, I do mind, please don't." The man had spoke but his face had remained facing forward, watching the road and his mirrors. He continued, "I've seen you before, asking for money in the parking lots, is that all you do?"

She recognized that he knew how the game was played too, and the ball was back in her court. "I used to detail cars for the Ford place but they let me go when I flunked a piss test. I was real good at detailing cars, and I liked doing it too. But nowadays I just look for anything to pick up a few coins." She waited for his mind to pick up on the 'anything', that always meant the same thing to men, sex.

The killer turned to her and openly let his eyes stroke her body from head to toe. "Anything takes in a lot of territory. How much do you make on an average day of begging in the parking lots?"

Rita did not like his use of the word 'begging'; somehow she didn't think of herself as a beggar, she felt that she was just an older woman doing what she had to do to get by. She felt the weight of his gaze as his eyes slowly scanned her body, making her feel as though she were on display. Both of them knew what they were talking about, now she had to fix a price.

"On a good day I can pick up fifty dollars."

The man gave her a chilly smile as he answered. "I bet that is a very good day when you make fifty dollars, but I will believe you if you say it is so. So if I wanted you to work for me I would need to pay you fifty dollars a day?"

"It would depend on what you wanted me to do. What did you have in mind?" Rita asked the question as she watched the motel coming into view ahead.

The killer watched the woman's hands as they fingered the forbidden cigarette, he saw the alarm in her eyes as they drove past the driveway for the motel.

"I have to run some errands and then if you want to, I'll buy us some lunch at the diner. You don't mind do you?" He let his eyes focus on her tits, the cold air had done its job, the nipples were hard and clearly visible as they tried to crash through the thin fabric of her shirt. "So what's your name and how did you wind up like this at this time of your life?"

"Rita," she heard herself reply. She did not like the way he was taking charge of things, she felt like a prisoner, trapped in this car as it sped out of town and into the swampy Florida wilderness. "I had a few bad breaks, went with some bad choices, and this is where it landed me."

She tried to hide her fear as she looked at the man beside her. He was about thirty-five or so and had kept himself in shape. He had dark hair that he wore short, his face was clean-shaven with no visible adornments like chains or other types of jewelry. His eyes were gray like the sky on a winery day, but they seemed colder. He turned to her and laid a twenty-dollar bill on the seat between them.

"That's for the money you might miss out on while we are gone. Is that enough to pay for your company for an hour or so?" The man let her see the thick stack of bills in his wallet as he returned it to his pocket.

"That's fair I guess but I got to get back before two because I have to meet a friend." As she was speaking she was grabbing the bill from the seat.

The man took his wallet back out and laid it on the seat. "Pick up my wallet and take out another twenty dollars if you will ride topless." As he said this his eyes held hers watching for the expression on her face as the proposition sunk in. If he had been hoping to shock her he had failed because she picked up the wallet and removed a twenty, stashing it with the other bill in her shorts pocket. Hell, she was used to sucking cocks for a twenty-dollar rock. Without a word she started to unbutton her blouse pulling the garment off and putting it in the back seat of the car followed by her bra. She turned back around on the seat and stared straight ahead, seeing nothing but swamp as the car drove deeper into the wilderness.

The killer smiled as he watched her; this was like fucking with the lunchroom ladies from high school. No, it was like fucking with your mother. She was about the same age as his mother. She had nice breasts, bigger than his mother's, they hung on her chest like two tears. The nipples were showing the effects from the air conditioning they sat hard and crinkled atop the otherwise so soft flesh of her breasts. He reached across the seat and took a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She turned to face him with fire in her eyes.

"That was not part of the deal! No touching." The fear was clear in her voice and both of them heard it. The man smiled; she didn't.

He still held her nipple as he told her, "Open the wallet and take out two twenties and then shut up and let me play with your tits." He rolled her nipple between his fingers as he spoke. When she reached for the wallet he put a bit more pressure on her hard little bud as her hand removed the bills the pinch really began to hurt. The killer was loving this, he stretched the nipple toward the windshield pulling her breast painfully away from her body. They both knew she was bought and paid for only the amount remained unclear.

"Take off the rest of your clothes, and you can have another forty bucks." He released her nipple letting it slap back against her chest painfully. He seemed to pay her no attention as she struggled with her decision.

Rita had eighty bucks in her pocket now another forty dollars would be more money then she had seen for some time. Hell with over a hundred bucks she could score some rock and still have enough to rent a room, take a shower, watch some TV, and get a good supper. It was almost enough to let her live like a normal human being for a day or so. She picked up the wallet and removed forty more dollars, then removed her shorts and panties.

"Shoes and socks too," the man said.

She complied leaving herself completely nude and exposed to his stares. She was getting wet as she sat there naked with a fully clothed man next to her. She hadn't been this excited in years. She watched this man who would be the age of her son if she had one. His eyes roamed over her body. She forced herself not to panic as he reached across her to recline her seat until she was almost laying down next to him. He gave his hands free license to go where they pleased. Her skin was so soft, much softer to the touch then the younger women he had been with before. He loved the feel of it, so soft like baby powder.

The killer knew that he could take it all back when everything was over, the money meant nothing at all. He picked up the wallet and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. He held it up where she could see what it was. "It is forty miles to Lake City." He pointed to a sign as the car passed by it. "I'll give you this hundred dollar bill if you can cum three times before we get to town." As the man spoke his hand caressed the woman's stomach letting his fingers trail lightly through her pubic hair, he touched her clit.

Rita jumped when his hand found her trigger, her mind was in a jumble as she thought about how much money this guy was offering. My God! What was she doing? She was of the age that she should be going to some church garden club in the afternoons. She should be playing with grandchildren, cooking big dinners for her family. Instead she was lying naked in a stranger's car driving through the middle of nowhere selling her soul one piece at a time.

He watched as her hand crept down to between her legs, a single finger slid along the damp hair finding the bud of her clit. She looked so out of place, it was like he was watching his mother get off. He found himself getting very excited, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and taking her nipple again. He played roughly with her breast as her fingers flattened themselves out against her mound, rubbing in a tight little circle over her clit.

"Rita." His voice cut through her dream like state. "Open your eyes."

She did as he asked, seeing only the roof of the car and to the side, the man watching her.

"Look at me Rita, look into my eyes." The man was still rolling her nipple between his fingers, the pain was gone now though, and his fingers were stroking her excitement. "I think that I have found myself a slut sure enough. This is your lucky day woman because I am going to pay you to do all kind of things for me."

His hand was all over her, one moment it was pinching, caressing, and sometimes slapping at her breast. Other times the hand was between her legs tracing the outline of her lips trailing lower to touch her asshole. She felt the heat throughout her body, she was responding stronger to the sexual urges building up inside her than she had ever responded before in years. She felt so controlled but she had adjusted her mind to the fact, and now she seemed to be enjoying the lack of being responsible for what happened.

Her hand was a blur as she worked her clit feverishly, she could feel that she was getting close.

Their eyes were locked onto one another when she felt the first wave of her approaching orgasm. As the rush swept over her, the man reached over and locked his mouth over hers. As she came she was sucking on his tongue, his fingers twisting her nipples painfully. The car they were in was going sixty miles an hour while the driver was French-kissing her. Everything combined to give her one of the hardest cums she had ever experienced.

"That's one, two more to go." His finger teased the entrance to her cunt touching but not entering. She was very wet now and seemed to be opening up for him. She would have to wait for that though. He put his hands back on the wheel and watched the woman as her hand continued to rub the area of her clit. Maybe it was because she was reclining but somehow her tits looked firmer, their nipples sticking up asking to be touched, sucked, like they wanted to be used. She had the smoky look of passion in her eyes giving her the look of someone that is high as a kite. She obeyed him and kept her eyes looking at him even when he looked away. She had slut potential.

Rita was in sensual-overload territory now and her own hand was sending such feelings through her body. She could hardly keep her eyes focused on the young man, she just wanted, she didn't know what she wanted, but she knew that there was a need building inside of her. The thought left her as her second orgasm washed over her, causing her to arch her self in the seat as if she were lifting up to meet a man's downward thrust. She couldn't help but let out a low moan as her body convulsed to her finger's demands.

"Open those eyes Rita, I want to see those slutty eyes of yours when you're cumming for me."

She hadn't realized that her eyes had closed, she opened them to see the man stroking his cock through his pants. She watched as the man teased his growing cock as he watched her beat her meat for him. She found herself thinking how much she wanted to suck his dick for him. How bad she wanted him to fuck her. How much she loved being in his power. It seemed that just the thought of what was going on was so sexy that it pushed her into her third big O inside of fifteen minutes. It made her body knot up in such a way that the stranger saw that she had cum again.

The killer watched the old woman's eyes; they actually seemed to glaze over with the emotions she was feeling inside. He thought that it was one of the sexist things he had ever seen, and he had seen a lot. Those big puppy dog eyes looking up at you and then suddenly they kind of harden and then melt into an unfocused state, open but not really seeing. And then like a ship coming out of a fog bank you see her come back into her eyes. You can plainly see the need and the want in their eyes when they are like that. Most of the time that is when he would cut their throat and watch the want fade into stark fear as they came to the realization that they were dying.

He pulled into the next dirt road that he came to, it was an old logging trail and he followed it into the tall pines far enough not to be seen from the road. He stopped the car and got out, walking around the car he opened the old woman's door and pulled her naked ass out of the car. In one fluid motion he spun her around and bent her over the fender of his car. Holding her down with one hand her freed his cock from his pants with the other. Placing his cock at her opening he shoved the entire length deep inside the woman's body.

The metal of the fender was uncomfortably hot against her skin but she lay still and waited while the man positioned himself. When he rammed home deep inside of her she couldn't help but to moan out her encouragement. It felt so good to have a man inside her once more, she found herself pushing back onto the hard dick as it tore through her body setting off nerve endings that had lain dormant for years. She traded blow jobs for both crack and cash but nobody really found her sexy enough to want to fuck her. Today she had hit the jackpot.

The heat on her nipples, which were mashed against the hot metal of the hood, was getting intense. The extra pain seemed to stimulate her even more as she felt her fourth orgasm start to build up inside her. She raised up onto her arms to get away from the hot steel that was beginning to cook her tits, but the man would not allow her this freedom of movement, his hands grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back where her held them in one hand while her pounded into her with even more force.

The killer felt his own orgasm as it rushed from his balls through his body and flushed into her waiting and open womb. There were a few more hard thrusts but mostly the man started to slow down right away until he stood still behind her with his dick still lodged as deep as he could push it inside the old woman's cunt. He released her hands and began to stroke the woman's back, rubbing her shoulders and tracing her spine as his hands ran down her body to her buttocks. Since he had released her hands she placed them over her head lying across the hood of the car. She seemed to be slipping into some sort of submissive mode, so he started to slap her ass cheeks.




The Difference Between Homeless and Helpless



The killer started to slap her ass with more force yet she didn't try to avoid the blows or complain about them, rather she began to squirm on the hood and seemed to be trying to grind her ass back against his cock which had never really gotten soft but was getting harder with every move the bitch made against him. This was not going the way he had planned, the bitch was making it too good for him. He began to feel that he owed her something for what she was doing for him. In spite of himself, he began to like the old woman for her spunk and spirit. He decided to see just how game she really was.

"Put it in your asshole." He said it like it was an order not a request.

The words hung in the air waiting for her mind to hear them for what they were. A command to hurt herself for this man she didn't even know. She had never liked anal sex, she had only tried it a couple of times in her life. She was hot as hell and really wanted sex right now, she couldn't remember when she had felt this horny. But she didn't think she could take him up her ass. She decided to tell him no.

"I don't do that shit, if you don't like my pussy enough to let that satisfy you than I guess you will just have to beat your own meat." She had spoken like she always talked but it sounded like backtalk to the killer and he was not used to that from women.

The cold eyes of the man seemed to flare up when he heard her words. He reached out his hand and wrapped his fist in her whitish hair; with a hard jerk he pulled her face up and away from the car's hood, forcing the woman to bend backwards, pulling her onto his cock.

"You fucking bitch, when I tell you to do something, you do it." He released her hair and brutally started to rapidly slap her ass with both hands, first one then the other would fall on her ass making it glow a hot cherry red. On the fifth slap she started to wail and asking him to stop; by the time his hand got sore, she was blabbering so that he couldn't understand a word. In the struggle his dick slipped from her pussy; that really pissed him off and he started to actually beat her with his hands.


Rita could not stand the pain, as blow after blow fell onto her defenseless ass cheeks. When he finally stopped she lay still and sobbed while he stalked around the car like a tiger in a cage. He came back around to stand behind her, his hard dick brushing against the back of her thighs as he spoke to her.

" Ok, here's the deal, I want a sex slave, I am willing and able to pay you to do this for me, but I want complete control. How much is that going to cost me?" The man stepped back and gave the woman some room as she stood up and turned to face him.

"Just what kind of shit do you want to do to this 'sex slave', I mean how do I know what to charge if I don't know what you want to do to me?" As she was talking she was thinking of what numbers he might be willing to go for. She had been getting fucked over her whole life, at least this time she would be getting paid for it, she figured she would let this asshole slap her around a bit if he was willing to spend enough to make her feel better when it was all over with.

The killer loved the way this conversation was going, the old bag was really going to sell herself to him. She had grit and spunk enough for two guys; he tried not to gloat as he told her what he might want her to do.

"I would want to tie your hands behind your back, I would want to be able to fuck your mouth, ass or pussy any way that I might want to do it. I would want you to be a willing partner in these fuckings. I might hurt you by spanking but I will not do anything that would really hurt you or leave lasting signs. If I paid you five hundred dollars would you be my slave for the rest of the day?"

He watched the animal cunning in her eyes as she tried to figure out how much her life was worth. She looked at his face like she was looking for something she could trust, something to make this easier for her. He gave her nothing, he merely waited for her to do it on her own.

"You already gave me two hundred and twenty dollars," she could hardly believe that she had that much already, "and you are offering me five hundred more if I will let you call the shots. Is that right so far?"

The killer nodded his head yes.

"I'll do it if you will add another two hundred and eighty dollars to it, that would make the total come to one thousand dollars." Shit, she could rent an apartment if she wanted to with that kind of money. She could be a 'somebody' again for a while. She continued, "I would want the money in cash and in my pocket before we go any further."

The killer readily agreed to her terms, really what difference did it make whose pocket the money was in when she died; she wouldn't even have a pocket to keep it in so it would be in his car anyway.

"OK," was all he said as he reached for his wallet. He started to lay the bills on the hood of the car, counting the bills as he put them down.

"All righty then, just let me put this in my shorts and I'll be ready." She trotted around to the passenger side of the car and stashed her loot into her folded shorts on the back seat. Glancing back over her shoulder she saw that the man was going to the trunk, when the lid popped up it blocked his view of where she was. Her hand lifted her breast while her other hand placed something underneath it, she let her breast fall trapping the object under her breast against her chest.

The killer went to the trunk and popped the lid, he reached in and came out with an overnight night bag, slamming the trunk closed, he returned to the front of the car where Rita stood naked and waiting for him. Placing the bag on the hood of the car he reached inside and came out with a collar, not a leather collar but a silver chain choke collar that he placed over her head. Her skin burst out in chill bumps when the cold metal touched her flesh. The killer ignored her and went back into the bag again, this time he came out with a length of soft rope. He looked at Rita and spoke two words.

"Turn around."

Rita was well aware that things were about to get completely out of her control and it suddenly scared her. Even as she turned around as he had asked her to do, she was thinking of how she could talk him out of this.

"You know that the way I look at it, my body belongs to you for the next few hours, I don't see why you would want to tie my hands when they could be doing something to me or for you. They are paid for too you know." She waited for a reply but all she got was him pulling her left hand behind her back and starting to wrap rope around her wrist.

The killer was listening though and he thought that most of the time he had tied up his victims and it did take away a lot of options. His mind began to run though possibilities of what he might make her do with her hands free as opposed to what risk he might be running leaving her arms and hands free to move as she wanted. He looked at the slight old women and thought, 'What a wimp I am becoming to worry about an old woman kicking my ass if I don't tie her up'. He decided to play it cautious and tie one hand behind her back just to slow her down if she tried to get away. The road was not that far away and there were log trucks running up and down it pretty regularly.

At first Rita was relived when the stranger didn't grab her other arm but the relief was short lived as the man tied the rope to the end of the choke chain around her neck. The weight of her arm pulled the chain tight around her neck, it was very awkward to hold her arm high enough behind her back to keep from choking; it forced her to jut her breasts forward arching her back in a painful way.

The killer thought that she looked just right with the slight pain of discomfort in her eyes serving as a background for the fear that was beginning to grow there. Gone was the smug look that his mother had always had. He felt his cock jump at the thought of doing this to his mother. He wished that he had but now it was too late, she had died two years ago. This old bag would have to do. He walked to the car and sat down on the seat with his legs still on the ground.

"OK, bitch, get your ass over here and get between my legs and suck my dick. Don't stop sucking and don't stop fingering that nasty little cunt of yours." He pushed his pants to below his knees and spread his legs as she approached.

With one hand tied behind her back and the other rubbing between her legs, Rita had a hard time getting to her knees before her master, but she did. She bobbed her head over his cock until she got it in her mouth and started to suck.

"Deeper bitch, I want the whole thing in your head before I shoot my nut." As he spoke he took hold of the sides of her head and helped her out by shoving her face down onto his hard cock. He could feel her gagging as she tried to hold him inside, he let her grab a moment's air and then he was deep in her throat again. Soon she was able to take the whole length down her gullet and he leaned back and watched this motherly like woman suck his cock like the cheapest whore.

The killer had already fucked her pussy and now he was fucking her mouth, one more hole to go before she was used up. He smiled as he thought that he would punch her asshole and then punch her ticket. She was working on her clit and he thought that she had already had one orgasm but he wasn't sure. She knew how to suck a cock though that was for sure; he wasn't the first one she had sucked, not by a long shot.

Rita knew he was about to cum so she applied more suction and tried to twist her head as she drove it up and down his shaft. Her nose was firmly pressed into his pubic hairs when she felt him shoot his cum down her swallowing throat. She never slowed down even when her own cum followed his. She had a mean streak in her and she began to swirl her tongue around his super sensitive cock head. She had sucked enough men in her life to know that they were so sensitive after they came that it was almost painful for them to keep going. She kept going, with both her hand on her pussy, and her mouth on his cock.

He couldn't take any more; he used his hands on her head to pull her still sucking mouth from his cock. "My God," he exclaimed, "you gonna be getting the tears from my eyes if you don't stop." He pushed her back with one of his feet and stood up, she remained laying on her hip and side where he had shoved her down. She seemed to be having trouble with her arm, he reached down to help her to her feet and something hit him in the face.

Rita knew that she only had a chance like this come along once every ten years if she was lucky. She pulled the protective cardboard sleeve from the blade with her teeth and slashed with the single edge blade across his face when he bent over her. She got him twice more before the big guy knew what was happening to him. He had both hands in front of his face now trying to protect where she had been cutting him. Unfortunately this left his throat open and she slashed the blade across and then hit him again with the back slash opening his throat to the point that she could see down his windpipe. Blood was gushing out all over her, as the tall man seemed to stagger and then fall to his knees beside her. The pain in her arm was terrible as she rolled over on it to get some distance between her and the guy trying to stop his blood from soaking into the Florida sand.

Rita struggled to her feet and started to work the blade on the rope that was holding her arm to the chain around her neck. She was careful to stay out of the reach of the guy who was now laying down staring up at her with dimming eyes. Blood was everywhere; his head lay in a puddle big as a child's plastic wading pool. She was soaked as though she had been under a hose squirting blood instead of water. She tried to get it off her face with her hands and waited for the man to die.

It took ten minutes before she was sure enough to touch the dead man. Rita went through his pockets and found twenty-six hundred dollars besides the thousand she had in her shorts already. She looked through his trunk and found a lot of kinky sex toys, butt plugs and big dildos, alone with sets of leather restraints. She was hoping for something that she could sell but she didn't know anybody into that sort of shit. She thought that she had hit the jackpot when she found a box filled with papers but it was only clippings about a series of murders that happened all over the southeast. She threw them over by the body. Watching for snakes, she waded out into a ditch filled with muddy water to try to get the blood off her.

With nobody to tell her not to do it any more, she lit up a cigarette. That motherfucker should never have hit her, she didn't let anybody abuse her like that. She blew out a long stream of smoke; she would have let the guy fuck her and she would have honored their deal but she was not going to let anybody try to intimidate her like he tried to do. She considered what to do with the guy's car, she could trade it for crack but it might bring the heat back to her if the cops ever got onto it.

Rita parked the car back in the corner of the Wal-Mart parking lot next to the building, there were no cameras there, and walked away. She didn't know that she had just murdered a dangerous man, she didn't know that there was a one hundred thousand dollar reward for anyone who could tell the police where he was. She just knew that the guy had wanted to fuck her over and she hit him first. That was the first law of the jungle, get in the first blow and make it count. Even though she had nearly three grand in her pocket she flagged down a woman she had bummed rides from in the past.

"Could you give me a ride down to the Palm Grove Motel, I sure would appreciate it?" she asked.

The woman waved her to get into the car. As they drove away Rita thought that while she had got fucked, at least this time she didn't get fucked over. She remembered the way he had called her a beggar. Guess he knew better now, just because she was homeless didn't mean she was helpless. As they drove up at the motel and she thanked the woman and got out of the car, she saw a cat scamper out from behind a dumpster. A lot of people would think that the cat was lost or abandoned, but Rita knew better. The cat was like her, untamed, semi-wild, living by its wits out on the edge. That's where she lived because she was untamed; like that cat, she lived rough but she lived free. She wouldn't trade lives with anybody she knew; like that cat, she was happy.



The Difference of Tonight



We had seen each other numerous times from across the bar. Tonight however, we are both by ourselves. As I sit here I feel something different when I see you, a flutter deep in my stomach. I look over at you just in time to catch your gaze back at me. Our eyes lock momentarily and I feel a slight weakness in my knees. I can’t help but think about what it would be like to feel your strong arms wrapped tightly around me. I must have been deep in this daydream because I did not even notice you get up from your chair and come over to me. Without saying a word you take my hand and lead me to the dance floor. You pull me close to your body and embrace me tightly.

 My whole body is weak as you look intently into my eyes. You lean into me further and begin to kiss me softly and tenderly. I eagerly kiss you back while we continue dancing as if we were in our own world. As the song comes to an end we reluctantly pull our lips apart. You whisper in my ear that you want to take me back to your apartment. I look up at you and simply nod my head. You take me by the hand and lead me out of the bar. You open the car door for me to get in. You climb behind the wheel and lean over to lightly kiss me. My stomach is doing flips just being near you, a feeling I haven’t felt in so long. We sit in a comfortable silence on the way to your place. As we pull into the driveway I almost feel faint but it as if you can read my mind because you reach over and give my thigh a gentle squeeze. Strangely enough this is just what I need to put me at ease. 

You get out of the car and come around to help me out. You slide your arm around my waist and walk me up to the door. As I head up the stairs, I notice things about your place, very well kept, stylish and comforting. You offer me a drink and while you head into the kitchen to get it I slip off my shoes and curl up on the corner of your couch. You bring me a glass of deep red wine and sit down beside me. You lean over to me and turn my face towards you, I look into your brown eyes; you kiss me so passionately I can feel my heart tremble. You take me by the waist and begin to slide your hands under my sweater along my soft skin. 

As you do this, I take it upon myself to pull my legs over yours and sit facing you, my skirt rising up around my little waist. You eagerly slide my sweater up over my head. As I continue kissing you I begin to unbutton your pants while you gracefully remove my bra. I inch off you onto the floor so that I can slide your pants off. I enthusiastically take your already hardened cock into my grasp. I slowly begin stroking your hardness feeling a need to taste you. At that same moment I feel your precum and I run my fingers over the head or your cock. Gazing up at you I take each finger into my mouth and eagerly suck off that delicious taste. 

Wanting more, I take you into my mouth and run my tongue around the tip of your throbbing cock. I listen to your moans, knowing that I am making you hot. It turns me on to know how excited you are. I slide my mouth half way down your shaft, gently sucking, cupping your balls in my hand. I pull my mouth back up to the tip and cover you with my saliva. I slide back down your hard throbbing cock engulfing the entire thing. I look up at you and can tell that you are enjoying being able to watch me take in your whole cock. I enjoy having you in my mouth and I love the look of pleasure on your face and the moans coming from your lips. 

You passionately run your fingers thru my long brown hair. This time as I slide my mouth back up your shaft I run my tongue up the underside with a just the right amount of pressure. I suck on the head of your cock just as I begin to feel your skin jump and your breathing gets heavier. I know you are ready to cum and I eagerly await the treat I am going to get for all my work. I go down one last time as I feel your cum pour into my mouth and I swallow all of it down. I enthusiastically give you a few last little licks to feel your skin jump. 

I am so happy that I agreed to come home with you on this night. I can only hope there will be many more to follow. After finishing I climb back up onto the couch and lean over to kiss you. Deeply we kiss and I can tell that my hope for more evenings like this will occur. We sit back and enjoy that tasty wine you brought out before. We curl up next to each other and enjoy the feeling of our bodies close together and the sweet taste of the wine.