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The Blonde Ch.  01

By: ohio



[Author's Note: This is Part 1 of a three-part story. The next two parts will each appear in a day or two.]



The Akropolis Diner probably doesn't serve the very best breakfast in Indianapolis, but the waitresses are cute and friendly, the coffee is excellent and it's only eight blocks from my apartment, and right on my way to work.

About a year earlier I had discovered that Amy, my ex-wife, was more interested in riding our neighbor's dick than she was in being married to me. Actually, she seemed to want both; she was pretty upset when I yanked her off Stuart's cock, slugged him in the jaw, packed a bag and left the house. We were divorced about four months later, despite all her best efforts to tell me "it didn't mean anything, I was the only man she loved, she'd just gotten a little bored," etc.

Once I got over the rage of being betrayed by someone I really loved--and once I got laid a few times and figured out that her cheating was her problem, rather than something wrong with me--it turned out I didn't miss her that much. But I'd gotten used to somebody else cooking me a nice hot breakfast, which is why the Akropolis became part of my morning routine every day before work.

I would have my daily cholesterol and coffee, read the Sports pages and the Op-Eds in the Star, and flirt a little with Iris and Debbie, the two morning waitresses. They were both cute, both married, and both happy enough to flirt right back. We all knew it didn't mean anything.

One morning my contemplation of the woes of the Reds, the team I'd rooted for against my better judgement ever since my childhood in Cincinnati, was interrupted by a hushed but intense conversation from the booth behind me. One woman sounded pretty distraught, and her friend was trying to cheer her up.

"You just don't know what it's like, Katie." Her voice sounded choked, like she was about to cry. "A procession of guys thinking I'm nothing but a cunt--not even a human being. I get hit on fifty times a day, and I'm the loneliest person in Indiana."

"C'mon, Tommie, it's not that bad. You've had more boyfriends than all the rest of my friends put together! And some cute ones, too--what about that guy Scott? He's really hunky, and he sure was into you that time we went out to dinner."

"That bastard! Do you know what he did? He was so nice to me, so loving and sweet--until he got me into bed. And then all he wanted to do was fuck me, day and night. Did he want to go out? See a movie, take a walk in the park? No, he wanted to bend me over his kitchen table!" Her voice was bitter, angry.

"He loved to talk dirty to me--'babe, you've got the best tits and the hottest pussy I've ever seen, I could fuck you forever,' crap like that. Not 'you're a lovely person, I really care about you'."

Katie said, "oh Tommie, I didn't know it was so--"

"And then one night he brought two friends over. He was coming over for a nice dinner at my apartment, and we were supposed to go out to a movie, 'cause I insisted?

"And he walks in with these two asshole buddies of his and wants the four of us to do it together on my bed. 'Darlin', I told Jim and Andy how hot you are, and they would really like to fuck you too.' "

Her friend sat silent for a minute--probably shocked. I know I was. Then she said quietly, "God Tommie, that's awful. What did you do?"

"I threw all three of them out of my apartment, and I lay down and cried for two hours. And, needless to say, I hung up on Scott every time he called for the next two weeks. That ASSHOLE!" 

She cried for a couple of minutes before she began to speak again. "It's always been like this Katie--ever since high school. Guys think I'm hot, but all they want to do is fuck me. No one ever takes even a minute to treat me like a person.

"You don't know how lucky you are to have Eric. He loves you AND he wants your body." She laughed briefly. "Even after six years. I am so envious of you guys."

I listened with complete fascination to this conversation going on right behind my head. All thoughts of baseball were forgotten. Needless to say it had never occurred to me that being seen as incredibly sexy could be a bad thing for a woman.

After a couple of minutes I heard Tommie say, "let me go wash my face before we go, okay? I must look like a sight." And then she emerged from the booth behind me and walked down the aisle past me to the Lady's room.

From the back she looked attractive but not unusual. Medium height, blond hair worn a bit past her shoulders, nice figure in a casual summer dress that came down nearly to her knees. I went back to the paper, only to look up again a couple of minutes later at the sound of her returning to her table.

It was mesmerizing. Truly. I was aroused by the sight of her like I'd never been before in my life. Tommie was very pretty, but no supermodel. As some of my friends might put it, she was an 8 or an 8.5, but no 10. She had lovely medium-size breasts, but certainly not the body of a Playboy playmate.

But in some way I can't explain she was the sexiest, most desirable woman I had ever seen. In an instant I was imagining having her down on my table and burying my head between her thighs, or of laying her down right in the aisle and fucking her, of rolling her over on her hands and knees... 

Yet a moment later I was embarrassed, ashamed. I'd reacted just the way all the men she'd been complaining about had obviously reacted to her. I forced myself to look back down at my newspaper, afraid that she'd read the obvious desire in my face, and I didn't look up again until she'd passed. A couple of minutes later, she and her friend paid their bill and left the diner.

I thought about Tommie all the way to work, and several times during the day. About the way I'd responded to the sight of her. To tell the truth I felt a bit ashamed, because it was clear that all the men in her life had been assholes and, given the chance, I probably would have done just the same. Treated her like a piece of meat, like a potential hot fuck.

And it especially bothered me because I'd heard her tearfully describing how unhappy that brand of male attention made her. I was left with the uneasy feeling that most men were jerks--and I wondered if that included me.

****************

After a couple of weeks I pretty much forgot about Tommie, though I vowed to be more respectful to the women I met. And I had a chance to live up to my vow, because about four months later I met her face to face.

I was at my desk at Minestra Business Systems, where I'm the head IT maintenance guy, when Irene Simmons came down the hall introducing a new employee. She was stopping at each cubicle, saying, "Tommie Parker? This is Hank Olson, our marketing blah blah," and before she got closer than 60 feet I could see it was the unbelievably sexy blonde from the Akropolis Diner.

So I had a couple of minutes to prepare myself. When Irene got to my cubicle I stood up and cordially greeted Tommie with a handshake and a warm smile, being sure not to let my gaze drop lower than her face.

"Welcome," I said. "Minestra is really a great place to work--I hope you'll be happy here."

"Thank you, " she said, smiling back at me. She seemed a little shy. Irene said, "Tommie will be taking over as Ben's administrative assistant in the Sales Division."

"Oh, you'll like working for Ben," I said. "He's a wonderful guy. Now, it's a good thing you won't be in Irene's office--boy, is she impossible! Why the stories I could tell you..."

Irene chuckled and punched my shoulder lightly. I glanced at Tommie and was relieved to see she could tell I was joking.

I made another brief comment, about how I was the guy to call if she needed any IT help, and then I said goodbye and turned back towards my desk. I was working as hard as I could to be warm, welcoming, and unthreatening.

To my delight I heard Irene say to Tommie as they moved down the hall, "Jack is such a kidder, but he's a really great guy."

I plopped down in my chair and took a deep breath. Seeing Tommie had just the same effect on me as the first time. She was SO sexy, in a way I couldn't rationally understand. If she'd come back up the hall and whispered to me, "quit your job right now and I'll take you home and ball your eyes out," I would have been unemployed in about five seconds.

But I kept remembering the conversation I'd overheard, Tommie's absolute misery at being seen as nothing more than a sex object--and I was determined to show her that I was a different kind of guy. I might never be anything but a casual friend, but I was going to try to be the kindest and most nonthreatening friend I could be.

Ben's office was at the other end of the floor from mine, so I didn't see Tommie again that day or the next. I waited until her third day at work, figuring she'd be feeling a little less overwhelmed by then, and around 11:00 I wandered down to where Ben's assistant's desk was.

"Hi, it's Tommie, right?" I asked--as though I hadn't quite remembered her name. "I'm Jack, from IT. How are you settling in so far?"

Her smile was friendly but wary, and I could almost hear her thoughts. But we chatted amiably enough for a minute or two.

Then I said, "there's a very nice lunch place called Armando's over on Fletcher Ave., just a couple of blocks from here, if you'd like to have lunch today."

I saw the wary look deepen, her eyebrows start to knit, and before she could reply I quickly said, "oh--sorry! That came out wrong. I didn't mean to make it sound like I was asking you out.

"There's a group of six or seven of us who eat there most days--Hank Olson, whom you met, and two of the women who work with him in Marketing, and Irene sometimes comes, and a couple of others.

"We'd love to have one more--but only if you don't have other plans."

She visibly relaxed, and after a few seconds of thought she said, "that sounds nice, actually. I don't know this part of downtown so well."

"Great!" I said. "We usually meet by the elevators around 12:15. See you then?"

"Okay," she said, giving me a beautiful smile. I walked back to my office feeling like I'd made a good start.

****************

Tommie joined our lunch group most days, and within a couple of weeks she fit right in. Shy at first, she didn't talk much but laughed at the mutual teasing and joking among the others; and as she began to get more comfortable she started to hold her own, offering an occasional barb or putdown of her own.

Only one thing bothered me, though no one else seemed as aware of it: the men in the group all turned into total horndogs around her. Morty and Ted from the Accounting office could barely keep their tongues from hanging out. Even Hank Olson, about as happily married as a man could be, stared at her discreetly whenever he thought no one would notice.

Because we all knew each other pretty well there was no overt flirting--it just would have been weirdly out-of-place for anyone to come on to anyone else in that setting--but the other guys clearly felt the same lust for Tommie that had nearly overpowered me the first time I saw her.

As for me, the feelings hadn't gone away but they were dramatically changed by what I'd overheard that day in the diner. I felt bad for her--a pretty, friendly and nice person who couldn't help how the male half of the world reacted to her. She absolutely NEVER flirted herself; any teasing she did was about work, or about little things like somebody wearing a blue sock and a brown one, as Morty had managed to do one day.

She must have known very well aware what the men in the group were feeling. I wondered if the women noticed it as well; and one day I overheard Irene and Leanne talking quietly near the watercooler.

"I just don't see what's so special about her, that's all," Leanne hissed. "She's pretty, I guess, but why does that have every guy's dick tied in a knot?"

Leanne was 42 and unmarried, and a bit of a harpie. Irene said, soothingly, "I know what you mean, Leanne, but it's not Tommie's fault that I can see. She's friendly, but she dresses so conservatively, and I've never seen her even once flirt with any of them. And did you notice how she always sits on the side of the table facing the wall, so she doesn't have to get leered at by every guy who comes into the place?"

Leanne reluctantly agreed, and they began talking about something else as I passed by.

A couple of days later I came into the men's room to find Morty and Ted washing their hands side by side, and it was obvious who they were talking about.

"...just can't believe how much she turns me on. It's like I'd never seen a woman before, for God's sakes!"

"I know," Morty agreed. "It's almost embarrassing. You had any luck?"

"None. She's always nice about it, but she's turned me down four times. No dinner, no movie, no walk after work--nada. Maybe she's a Lesbian!"

They both chuckled at this, and Morty said, "Christ, would that ever be a waste.

"Hey Jack," he said, turning to me, "you had any luck with Tommie?"

"No," I said casually, "I haven't asked her out. She is kinda pretty, I have to admit."

"Pretty?! She's a walking wet dream!" Ted almost shouted at me. "She's the hottest piece of fuck I've ever seen. God, but I'd wash her panties with my mouth any day."

I laughed and said, "thanks for sharing that image, Ted. Maybe you should make the offer, and she can save on her laundry bills."

When I left the men's room they were still talking about her.

****************

The fact that I was determined to be a nice guy, to let Tommie see that a man could be friendly and warm without doing all he could to get in her pants, didn't mean that I didn't want to get in her pants.

But as time went on that changed somewhat. She wasn't any less sexy, but after a few weeks I got more used to it and the feelings of desperate lust didn't affect me so much.

More and more, actually, I found myself thinking about what a nice person Tommie was, how considerate and sweet she seemed to be, and how much I enjoyed just being around her. Would I have felt that way if she were unattractive? I asked myself that question more than once, but I never came to an answer.

I noticed how thoughtful and sympathetic she was when Irene's mother died suddenly, how willingly she interrupted her own work to take Irene out for a cup of coffee. And how patient she was with Connie, whose long-winded stories about her boyfriend sometimes threatened to take over our group lunches. Apparently Connie was dating a guy who "couldn't commit," as women like to say, and she frequently bent our ears about him.

More than once, Ted or Morty or I was ready to say, "enough already, Connie! Dump the guy or marry him, won't you?" But Tommie listened and sympathized--she always made Connie feel better somehow, when the rest of us had pretty much lost our patience.

It was nearly seven months after she came to work at Minestra before I began to think seriously about asking Tommie out. I'd just about killed myself to be a nice guy. I never allowed myself to gawk at her at lunch, like the other guys, and I never made a single remark that was sexual or flirtatious in any way.

At the same time, I casually mentioned from time to time a date I'd had with this woman or that one, indicating that I had a social life but that there wasn't anyone special. And if Morty teased me with a question about whether I was "getting any," I looked a little offended and quietly replied that Ruth or Alison or Lily was a nice person and we really enjoyed our time together.

I didn't come off sounding like a monk, I don't think, but I tried to come across as a thoroughly decent and discreet person--not a typical horny guy, in other words. And I wanted to make sure that that impression didn't change.

I waited for an opportunity to do something out of the ordinary. Tommie had mentioned at lunch one day that she'd played the violin growing up, and that while she'd dropped it after college she still really liked music.

So I emailed my friend Nick, who lived in Minneapolis and was a total classical-music nut, and asked him to look at the Indianapolis Symphony web page and tell me what concert he thought a former violinist might like.

He emailed me back recommending a concert that featured a Brahms Symphony and the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto. He said that any violinist would be dazzled by the concerto, and that most classical-music lovers adored Brahms.

That sounded good to me. So I took his advice, got two good tickets for the concert, and then went to chat to Tommie and told her a little white lie.

She gave me the usual friendly smile when I approached her desk, signaling me to wait while she finished a call. Then she said, "hey Jack, what's up? Do you need to get in to see Ben today?"

"No, actually, Tommie, I was hoping you might be willing to do me a favor." I said it in a very low-key way--no leering, not a hint of any sort of innuendo. 

"I have this aunt in Phoenix, she's retired and doesn't have much to do, and now that she's discovered the Internet she keeps herself busy staying in touch with her nephews and nieces, and giving us useful advice via email--you know, carry an umbrella in case it rains, that kind of thing."

Tommie chuckled, and I went on, "so for my birthday, feeling I was in need of culture, I guess, she sent me two tickets to the Indianapolis Symphony, and the concert is a week from Friday. It's the Brahms Second Symphony, a Mendelssohn piece, and the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto.

"I know you really like classical music, and I was hoping you'd come to the concert with me and be my tutor. I know I'd get a lot more out of it."

I watched her eyes narrow a little as she thought it over; then she said, "I think I'd like that, Jack. A week from Friday?" She pulled a little datebook out of her purse and looked at it. "That should work. Who's playing the concerto?"

I pulled the tickets out of my shirt pocket. "A guy named Joshua Bell--he any good?"

"Oh my God," she gushed, "he's unbelievable! I heard him play at Carnegie Hall in New York once, and he... Well, anyway, he's really terrific," she concluded, looking a little embarrassed about her enthusiasm. I'd actually Googled Joshua Bell, and found out that he was not only a phenomenal violinist but something of a dreamboat. It appeared that Tommie was aware of that too!

We chatted another couple of moments, agreeing that we'd meet at the Hilbert Circle Theatre, and I headed back to my desk. I hadn't invited her to dinner, and

I'd been very careful not to say the word "date" or make it sound like anything more than just a concert. 

And we had a great time. I knew a little more about classical music than I let on to Tommie, having grown up with an amateur piano player for a mother and been taken to a lot of concerts. Tommie was very enthusiastic about the concert, especially about Joshua Bell, who absolutely played the ass off his violin, and she told me a lot about the composers and the music before we heard each piece.

What pleased me the most is that Tommie seemed comfortable with me. As she always did at work, she wore conservative, unrevealing clothing--never a low bodice or tight slacks or a short skirt. And as I always did, I maintained a strictly friendly demeanor. I continued to desire her like mad, but I'm pretty sure it never showed.

When the concert was over we had a quick cup of coffee at a place around the corner, and I walked her to her apartment. I wasn't going to try for anything more than a handshake, so I was pleased when she leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and said, "thanks, Jack--that was really a lot of fun."

"I had a great time too, Tommie--maybe we can do it again sometime. See you tomorrow!" And with a smile and a wave, I watched her let herself into her building, then strolled off with a grin on my face.


The Blonde Ch.  01



Thinking carefully about it, I waited a full two weeks before I talked to her about another concert. I wanted her to see that I had no expectations, and that I could be totally discreet. I never breathed a word to anyone in our lunch group, or indeed anybody at Minestra, that Tommie and I had gone to a concert.

I wondered if she might bring it up the next day--you know, just to say, "that was fun, Jack" or something--but she also behaved with the lunch group as though it had never happened.

So after two weeks, I wandered down to her desk and said, "Tommie, I really enjoyed the Symphony concert--would you be interested in doing it again?"

And when she smiled and said she would, I pulled out the Symphony calendar I'd printed out and said, "well it just so happens that I have their schedule right here..."

Tommie laughed, and then I pulled up a chair and we looked at it and decided on the following week, when they were playing Prokofiev and a Beethoven symphony. 

Our second visit to the orchestra was a lot like the first one: Tommie told me about the composers and the music, we both really enjoyed the concert, and we chatted away comfortably and easily. I learned a little more about her big sister Alice, who'd married a Canadian guy and lived in Toronto, and I told her some funny stories about working my way through college as a lifeguard at a YMCA pool, and some of the crazy things that went on there.

And during intermission something else interesting happened. I left Tommie for a couple of minutes to stand in line to get us a couple of cokes; and when I had them in my hands I looked back across the crowded lobby and there was an extremely handsome guy chatting away with her.

Since she and I were not officially "dating" or anything, I realized that I had to play it cool. I watched the two of them as I negotiated my way through the crowd--he was being as charming as fuck, but I couldn't tell how Tommie was reacting to him.

When I finally reached them I handed Tommie her soda and said to the guy in a pleasant voice, "hi, I'm Jack."

"Uh, hello, I'm Rene," he said, clearly not the least bit happy to have me join the conversation. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment, and then Rene picked back up on some story he had been telling Tommie, presumably to impress her with how marvelous he was. 

But now that he could see Tommie was with somebody his heart wasn't really in it, and after a couple more minutes he nodded to me, told Tommie in a really sincere voice how much he'd enjoyed meeting her, and moved away.

I wasn't going to say a word about it, but Tommie just rolled her eyes at me and said, "somebody seems awfully impressed by himself!"

I laughed out loud and said, "and interested in you, I'd say--he certainly wasn't pleased to see me turn up."

She just sighed, looking a little unhappy, and said, "you know, sometimes I just get so TIRED of guys trying to pick me up all the time. It's flattering, I guess, but it gets really old after a while."

I had a quick decision to make. My first instinct would have been to say, "well, I'm not surprised that guys try to pick you up, Tommie--you're gorgeous!" But I really didn't want to be flirtatious. I wanted to be sincere and warm and kind--and above all non-threatening.

So I went for funny instead. "That's strange," I said, trying to look thoughtful. "Guys don't really hit on me much at all! I guess a few times at the gym...."

I let my voice trail off, looking puzzled, and Tommie cracked up. She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her soda, and I laughed with her. It was a nice moment.

At the end of the night I left her at her apartment, and like the first time she gave me a kiss on the cheek. I don't know if I'd ever ended a second date without a real kiss before--maybe when I was 15 or something. But things were going my way, and I wasn't going to push it or rush Tommie at all.

And I knew three days later that I'd done the right thing. Tommie called me during the morning and asked me to stop by her desk before we all met for lunch. When I got there she had the Symphony schedule out.

"How would you feel about 'The Rite of Spring' this time?" she asked me right away.

"That's Stravinsky, right?"

"Good for you!" she replied. "And there's a Bartok piano concerto that's kind of dissonant, but really exciting."

We agreed on the date and I said, "I'll order the tickets right after lunch."

"And listen, Jack?" Tommie suddenly looked a bit unsure. "You've been paying for all the tickets--"

"Well," I laughed, "my aunt paid for the first set!"

"Okay, but you've bought them since then. So I thought ... well, how about if I made us dinner this time?"

"Sure," I said. "That would be great! I eat anything: filet mignon, caviar, fresh lobster..."

She laughed and smacked me on the arm. "I was thinking pork and beans out of a can."

"Fine with me--will you have the sauerkraut or should I bring some?"

****************

When I arrived at Tommie's apartment I could see she was a little nervous, which made me feel good in a way. I figured that if she saw me as nothing more than a casual friend and concert-buddy, she wouldn't be nervous having me in her place.

I'd thought about bringing flowers but decided on a big gooey chocolate cake instead, as flowers suggested a guy courting a girl and I was trying not to give that impression. She opened the box and said, "wow! This looks delicious--and fattening. An extra hour at the gym this weekend for sure, but worth it. Thank you, Jack."

She'd made us chicken cacciatore over linguine and a beautiful Greek salad. It was very good, and obvious that she'd put a lot of effort into it. Another good sign!

As soon as we sat down I started asking her questions about Bartok and Stravinsky, and that seemed to relax her. We chattered away and ate and laughed--and before we knew it we were in danger of missing the concert.

"Oh darn!" Tommie said, glancing up at the clock. "We'd better dash. I'm sorry, Jack--we never even got to that cake. How about if we come back and have dessert afterwards?"

Fantastic, I thought to myself. "Sure, Tommie. Just grab your coat." I cleared the dishes, leaving them by the sink in her kitchen, and we headed out the door.

Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring" was not my cup of tea, exactly. Imagine 100 musicians on stage, all angry at each other, all playing as if determined to piss each other off--now imagine that going on for just over a half hour. I won't mind if I don't have to listen to that again any time soon.

But the Bartok piano concerto was cool, and being with Tommie--which for me was the main point, of course--was just terrific. She seemed more relaxed and comfortable with me than ever, laughing and joking, occasionally putting a hand on my arm.

At intermission when I went for sodas again, I watched her. In the first two minutes at least three guys went over to talk to her, but she shooed them all away. And then to my surprise she came and joined me on the line, and we talked about the music while we waited.

On the walk back to her apartment after the concert Tommie's cheerful mood seemed to change. She grew quiet and a little withdrawn, and I had an idea what was bothering her.

When we were half a block away I said, "listen, Tommie, it's getting kind of late. Shall we skip the dessert for tonight, and maybe do it another time?"

She stopped walking and looked up at me seriously. "No, Jack, I--it's..."

Taking my hand in hers she said, "I'd like you to come up. But we--I'm not--

"Jack, I'm not going to bed with you."

Again my instincts fought a quick battle with my better judgment. I wanted to pretend to scowl at her and say, "go to bed with me? What sort of guy do you think I am? Do you only like me for my body?"

But I controlled myself. Instead I just smiled and said, "that's fine, Tommie."

Then I waited a beat and added, "I would just be really disappointed to go home without a piece of that cake."

That made her laugh, thank goodness, and the awkwardness passed. When we got inside I immediately headed for the sink and started washing the dishes. Tommie looked at me in shock, then grinned and said, "well, you certainly are full of surprises!"

While I finished the dishes she put the left-overs away, made some coffee, and cut us some of the cake, and then we sat together at the table and ate it. We talked some more about Bartok and Stravinsky, and then about some of our more colorful co-workers.

But then the conversation trailed off and Tommie looked uncertain again. Determined not to push things, I stood up and said, "thank you again for dinner, Tommie. It was terrific, and the whole evening was fun."

I went around the table and gently lifted her to her feet. Looking into her eyes I said, "I'd like to cook for you next time--would that be all right?"

And I moved towards the door, pleased that she'd taken my hand and was moving with me. "Yes, Jack--and you know, I like filet mignon and lobster too!"

The smile on her face told me that a goodnight kiss would be welcomed, so I took her in my arms and gave her a good one. But gently, nothing forceful or scary, no tongue--just affectionate.

When I let her go she smiled at me and said, "good night Jack," and kissed me back, and squeezed my hand once more before letting me go.

As I walked back to my apartment I was smiling broadly to myself. On the one hand, this was the slowest courtship I could possibly imagine, especially for two adults. It was like being back in high school. In the Midwest. In the 50s!

But on the other hand, I was having a great time. Tommie was beautiful and intelligent and had a great sense of humor. And she was sexy as hell, and seemed to be interested in me, if a little wary. What was not to smile about?

****************

Our next date was just a Friday night dinner, at my place. There wasn't anything at the Symphony that Tommie wanted to hear, and I guess she was beginning to feel comfortable that we were actually dating--we didn't need to pretend it was just her teaching me about music.

I'm actually a pretty good cook; I did more than half of the cooking when Amy and I were married. So I prepared some marinated grilled lamb chops and a risotto and an avocado salad, as well as a sort of joke.

When Tommie arrived I showed her around the place--it was just a two-bedroom condo, but very comfortable, and I kept it nice and clean. And then she came and sat at the kitchen table while I finished stirring the risotto and dressing the salad, and we carried the food out to the table in my little dining room.

"This looks very nice, Jack," she said. "I'm impressed!"

"Oh, I almost forgot--sit down and close your eyes a minute. I remembered what you said."

She looked at me quizzically but I just waited, so she smiled and closed her eyes obediently. I reached into my pocket for two little slips of paper and put them on her plate.

"Okay, open up."

She looked at her plate, puzzled for a moment, and then burst into a big belly-laugh.

There in front of her were two small photos clipped from a cooking magazine: pictures of a gorgeous filet mignon and a pair of cooked lobsters.

She caught her breath and said, "well, that looks delicious," still giggling, and I said, "you know what they pay us at Minestra doesn't buy a lot of filet and lobster.

"But while I'm on the subject, when's your birthday?"

"June 28th," she said, and I said, "okay, for your birthday I'm taking you out for surf and turf. Deal?"

"Deal," she said. And she stood up and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. 

"I like your surprises, Jack," she said. And then we sat down and had our dinner, talking and joking and having a wonderful time. I was beginning to feel more confident that something might really be happening here, with this amazingly sexy and fun woman, and it made me very happy.

After dessert, which was an apple pie Tommie brought, we stood side-by-side washing and drying the dishes, gently bumping each other every once in a while. She said yes to another cup of coffee, so I poured us each a cup and took them into the living room. 

We sat close together on the sofa, talking, and when we grew quiet I looked at her. She was looking back at me, smiling slightly, and I leaned over to kiss her--ready to retreat at any moment if she seemed reluctant. But she wasn't, and we gently kissed and necked and held each other for a delicious half-hour. 

Holding her made me desire her more than I ever had--she would have seen my hard-on clearly if she'd glanced down--but I was so worried about scaring her that I took it really, really slow.

Still, it finally seemed like the right time, so I gently slid my hand down her arm to caress one of her breasts through her blouse. At first she seemed to like it--she made a little "mmm" sound and kissed me harder--but then after a minute she pulled back, a worried look on her face.

I waited, and tears started to well up in her eyes. "Jack, I'm sorry, I--"

"Shh," I said, pulling her back to me, her head on my shoulder. "It's okay. I like just being here, holding you. In fact I love it."

She relaxed after a minute, and then I started to rub her scalp. I learned this from my dad, actually, when I was a kid. There's almost nothing that feels better than a gentle scalp massage, someone using his fingers to rub your head through your hair. I used to love it when he did it, especially on nights when I was keyed-up and couldn't sleep.

And I'd learned over the years that women loved it too. I wouldn't say that I used it as a seduction technique, exactly, but I did find that it was a non-threatening, non-sexual but very intimate way of touching a woman. It never hurt, let's put it that way!

I rubbed Tommie's scalp for a few minutes with one hand, feeling her relax against me. And then I shifted her so she was lying down with her head on my thigh and I could use both hands, moving from the top of her head to the back, and then to the sides, above and around her ears, while she made little happy sounds in her throat.

I kept it up for a long time, and when I slowed and stopped she was virtually asleep, lying peacefully against me with her head on my leg. Did I still want to screw her? Oh my God yes--but at that moment I was extremely happy.

We stayed there, not moving, for a long while, why I idly stroked her hair. Around 10:45 I said quietly, "Tommie? It's getting a little late."

And she sat up, looking vague, and said, "wow, I think I fell asleep."

She stretched, and patted her hair into place, and looked at me very seriously. "Jack, that was--

"That was the nicest thing any man has ever done for me. C'mere." And she reached for me and pulled me into her arms, kissing me hard, her tongue searching for mine.

Within a couple of minutes we were necking again, frantically this time, and I had an iron bar in my pants. She stood up and pulled me to my feet and we continued to kiss, pressed tightly against one another, until she said, "uh, when you showed me around the place, Jack?"

"Yes?" I had no idea what she was getting at; and then she smiled and said, "I didn't really get much of a look at your bedroom--think I could see it again?"

****************

What can I tell you about Tommie's first night in my bed? On the one hand, it was pretty much like what most first nights are like, I guess. And on the other hand it was unbelievably wonderful.

We didn't do anything out of the ordinary; we took off each other's clothes, we lay on the bed touching and kissing and caressing, and we had sex. I wouldn't even say it was particularly wild sex. But I had been desiring Tommie for so long that I was absolutely desperate to have her. When I'd stroked her pussy and sucked on her breasts and she was breathing hard and she pulled me up on top of her, the feeling of her heat as I pushed into her the first time was like a miracle. We'd stopped for a minute for a condom, which can sometimes really break the mood, but this time it was fine.

I was hard as steel and I groaned with joy, and she smiled and kissed me, and then we just did it. We stroked and rocked and pushed and pulled at each other and it was nothing but sensations and heat and feeling. And I came, like crazy, not that soon but far sooner than I wanted to, and it felt like the greatest orgasm of my life.

And when it was over and I was lying next to her, catching my breath, looking joyfully at her relaxed, smiling face, I wanted to say, "you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that!"

But again, that didn't seem like the right thing to say. So I said, "Tommie, you are so beautiful. I'm so glad you're here with me!"

And she smiled and kissed my shoulder and snuggled up closer against me.

Tommie stayed over that night and we did it once more, sometime in the middle of the night. That one was kind of sleepy, not fast and furious, but it was just as terrific as the first time, and we just kissed and kissed before falling back to sleep.

The next morning I was bringing cups of coffee back into the bedroom, wearing only a pair of boxers, when Tommie opened one eye and smiled at me. 

"Oh my God, does that look good," she said, and I replied, "me or the coffee?"

"Both, actually--but I meant the coffee," she said. We drank our cups sitting companionably side by side against the headboard. I said, "what have you got going on today--feel like putting together a picnic and going out to Brookside Park?"

Tommie got a funny look on her face, one I couldn't read, and she said, "can I take a shower, Jack? Then we can talk."

I got her a towel and gave her my bathrobe and took her breakfast order; and when she came out, looking and smelling wonderful, there were fried eggs and English muffins and orange juice and more coffee. I hoped she'd ask me to marry her on the spot, but she didn't--just smiled a little and said, "wow, that looks nice."

"Go ahead and start, I'll just be a second." I took a three-minute shower and jumped into some shorts and a tee-shirt and hurried back into the kitchen.

"So," I said, as we were eating, "how about that picnic? Or do you want to do something else? Rent some bikes and ride around, or go to a movie?"

The funny look returned, and Tommie said, "I'm ... not sure I'm ready for that, Jack. Spending another day together, I mean."

I'm sure I looked baffled. She sighed and said, "it's kind of a long story--not one I'm ready to tell right now, if that's okay. Let's just say that ... that I'm a little gun-shy. I've been burned by moving too fast, or by guys who weren't what they appeared to be, and--"

She stopped, as though she didn't know how to finish the sentence. I smiled at her.

"It's all right, Tommie. I'd much rather we go slow and get it right. But you have to listen to me for a minute, okay?"

She could tell that I was serious, and she looked into my face.

"Yes Jack, of course--what?"

"This was no one-night stand, at least not for me, and I wasn't just angling to get you into bed. I really like you, I really like spending time with you, and I'm hoping to do a lot more of it. Got it?" I said the last two words with a mock-serious scowl, and she gave me a beautiful smile.

"Yes, sir!" she replied, giving me a military salute. "And Jack--it's not that I thought any of that about you. It's ... well, I could say that I don't really trust my instincts too much any more."

"As long as you don't give up on me," I said. "I can go as slow as you need."

She came around the table, sat down on my lap and put an arm around me. "Thank you, Jack," she said, and we kissed.

****************

I can't say I was completely happy about her putting me off. In fact I was a little bit frustrated. Knowing about Tommie's past, thanks to what I'd heard in the diner, I understood what she was feeling. Still, I'd really hoped that our wonderful night together would have broken down her barriers faster.




The Blonde Ch.  01



I called Alison to see if she was free that night; she was a woman I'd known for a couple of years, divorced like me, and we got together casually from time to time. Usually our get-togethers included sex. That Saturday night we went out for dinner, had drinks at her place, and fucked a couple of times. I enjoyed it too--one night with Tommie certainly hadn't blinded me to the appeal of other women--but it felt a little bit empty. I guess it felt the way "friends with benefits" sex usually feels, certainly no worse; but I'd just had something much better the night before.

To my pleasant surprise Tommie called me on Sunday, while I was haphazardly cleaning my apartment and listening to a Reds game on the Internet.

"Hey Jack, it's Tommie. How are you?"

"In a good mood now that I'm talking to you. How's your weekend been?"

We chatted amiably for a few minutes, and then she said, "do you think you might be free next Saturday night? I'm having dinner at Prestissimo with some good friends of mine, Katie and Eric, and it would be great if you could join us."

When Saturday came we had a very nice evening. Katie and Eric were both friendly and easy to talk to. Between me asking about how Katie and Tommie had met--they'd been in the same econ class in college--and Tommie and me regaling them with life at Minestra, we had a nonstop conversation, full of laughter.

Naturally I knew that Tommie had invited me at least partly so her friends could check me out. And, of course Katie had been the woman I'd overheard talking to Tommie in the Akropolis diner, though I never brought that up.

After dinner Eric invited us out to their place in the suburbs for coffee, promising to drive us back in later, and we agreed. They had a beautiful ranch house in a quiet neighborhood, and we sat out on their deck enjoying the calm evening.

Katie asked Tommie to join her in the kitchen "to help with the coffee," and as they walked away Eric caught me chuckling.

"What?" he said, smiling.

I said, "it's not like I claim to always understand women--far from it!--but I'd have to be pretty dumb not to know what's going on."

He grinned and said, "oh--discussing the new guy, you mean?"

"Exactly. And presumably you and I are supposed to have some incredibly revealing man-to-man talk out here, so that you can give Katie your impressions of me to pass along to Tommie later."

He laughed out loud and said, "I guess it was a little obvious, wasn't it? Okay quick: tell me all your deep dark secrets."

I leaned forward and lowered my voice. In a mock-serious tone I said, "well, when I was nine years old I threw a banana peel into a US mailbox."

Eric cracked up. "Really?" I nodded, and in no time we were chatting about stupid and/or dangerous stunts we'd pulled when we were kids. He was a very mellow guy, and funny--I found that I enjoyed him a lot.

When Eric dropped me and Tommie off at her apartment, we stood and talked for a minute after he drove away.

"How'd I do?"

She looked a little embarrassed. "Was it that obvious?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure you wanted to know what they thought of me. Frankly, Tommie, I feel really flattered that you invited me along to meet them--I can tell they're really close friends of yours, and I liked them a lot. I think they're terrific, in fact."

She put her arms around me. "Well, they liked you too--and so do I." She gave me a kiss, and then another one. "Want to come up?"

Carefully, I said, "only if you want me to. If tonight doesn't feel right, let's wait."

In a quiet voice she said, "wow, was that ever the right answer. Yeah, it feels right to me."

We made love half the night, and it was even better than the first time. We were more relaxed, more sure of one another. The joy of having her in my arms, of being inside her, was unlike anything I'd ever experienced in my life.

In the morning we showered together, then Tommie made us some breakfast and we talked and ate until about 1 pm. I was getting ready to leave, because she had a date to meet a friend in the afternoon, when she came up behind me while I was buttoning my shirt and put her arms around me.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I said, and turned around. She had a tentative look on her face. I kissed her on the forehead and we sat down together on the bed.

"We--Jack, I haven't--"

I waited, and she said, "we haven't really talked at all about what we're doing here, what we mean to each other."

I said, "well, I think we're 'keeping company,' to use an old-fashioned phrase, and I'm loving every minute of it. I think you're terrific, Tommie, in case I haven't already made that clear."

She smiled, but the worried look didn't entirely disappear. "So then, are you comfortable ... I mean ...

"Oh Jesus, Jack--what I'm trying to say is, are we getting to be a couple? And are we exclusive?"

Before I could reply she rushed onward. "Because I just don't ... I mean I can't handle a casual, sleeping-together kind of relationship. Opening up to someone doesn't come easy for me, and I--"

I took her hand. "If you're asking what I'd like, I'd like us to be a couple. And exclusive."

I laughed, and got down on one knee and said, "how about if we say we're going steady? Tommie, will you go steady with me?"

"Don't tease, Jack."

"I'm sorry--I was being playful, but I didn't mean to tease you. I want to be the man in your life, for as long as you'll have me. And there won't be any other women in mine."

"That's the way I want it too," she said, very seriously, looking intently into my eyes. And we kissed for a few minutes, just to seal the deal.

****************

On Monday at lunch things were different. Tommie seemed to have come to some sort of decision. She gave me an extra-warm smile when we all met at the elevators, and when we got to Armando's she made sure we were sitting next to one another.

I liked what I was seeing, but at first neither of us said anything to the others. The conversation was the usual joking and complaining about work: the bonuses might be canceled this year because of the economy, none of the upper management had a clue about how hard we worked, etc.

And then Connie started complaining about how boring Indianapolis was, how there was nothing to do, we should all move to Chicago or New York, blah blah blah. This was a familiar lament of hers. But Tommie just said, "oh, I don't know--I really don't think it's so bad.

"The Symphony is great, for instance. Jack and I have been to several concerts and they were terrific."

There was a surprised silence, and then everyone started speaking at once--mostly teasing. "Oh my God, they're a couple!" "Are you guys really going out?" "How did you ever get her to date you, Jack?" "Why would you waste your time on a loser like him?" And so on.

Tommie just took my hand in hers and we grinned at them, bearing the good-natured abuse patiently (most of it aimed at me, of course). Finally I said, "what can I tell you guys? I just swept her off her feet!" (Tommie smacked my arm when I said that.)

"You all have somehow failed to see my many fine inner qualities, but Tommie is obviously more perceptive than the rest of you!" (Loud booing and Bronx cheers, while Tommie kissed me on the cheek.)

After that day I had to endure a few weeks of shit from my male co-workers. Monty cornered me in the men's room the next day and wouldn't let up.

"You're really fucking her? My God, that must be good pussy. What's it like, Jack? How does she like doing it?" And on and on. "How can you even make yourself stop, when it's time to come to work?"

"Jesus, Monty," I said, "do you really think I'm going to talk to you about any of that? Tommie is a wonderful person and I care for her a lot, not that it's any of your fucking business. I'm certainly not going to talk to you about our private life."

"Is she really as hot as she looks? God, she must be an absolute firecracker, Jack--is she?" What an asshole. He didn't slow down for a minute, and it didn't matter what I said to him. I got similar crap from several of my other male co-workers, though I never told them a thing.

****************

I can tell you exactly how long things were great: seven weeks. They were better than great, they were fantastic. Tommie and I saw a lot of each other, probably spending three or four nights a week together at her place or mine. Most weekends we were together all the time.

We went out to eat, we rented bikes and rode around, we got together with Eric and Katie or with other friends, we went to the movies, we sat and talked. We did all the stuff you do when you're with somebody you're crazy about--somebody you're falling in love with. We might have even held hands and run through a field in slow motion with our hair blowing behind us, but I don't exactly remember.

We had a lot of sex, too. Tommie was not a wild woman; she didn't scream "fuck me harder with that big hard log, you stud!" or anything like that. (Are there any women who do shit like that? Outside of porn, I mean? Maybe there are a few, but I've never met any of them.)

Our lovemaking was sometimes gentle, sometimes energetic and frantic, but always there was a sweetness to it. For her I think it's because that's the kind of person she is; for me it was above all because I was falling in love with her: I wanted to be sweet with her, careful with her.

It didn't matter if I was rubbing her scalp, if we were fucking with her legs over my shoulders, or if I was going down on her, using my tongue and fingers to get her very wild--it was all great. Touching her, feeling her around me, smelling the scent of her arousal, everything was fantastic.

I've always been a nickname person (except with Amy, for some reason--and maybe there's some significance in that), and I found myself calling her "Tap," for Tommie Ann Parker. I wouldn't have done it if she didn't like it, but she seemed to. Sometimes I even turned it into "Tappy" or "Tapster," but she usually rolled her eyes at stuff like that.

On her birthday I did take her out for surf and turf. Eric and Katie joined us, we had two bottles of champagne, ate until we were stuffed, and went home by taxi. That night Tommie gave me the first blow job she'd ever given me, and while it may not have been the best I ever received from a technical point of view (whatever that means), it was loving and slow and it made me crazy--the good kind of crazy.

After that I licked and sucked on her pussy and clit until she came a couple of times, and was yelling and pulling me up by the ears. Then I climbed on top of her and we fucked like a couple of drunk people--which we were. It was sloppy and uninhibited and fantastic.

A couple of times we hung out at my favorite bar with Rudy and Cliff, two buddies I'd known ever since college. I'd warned them in advance to tone down the horndog routine, that Tommie was special and a little uncomfortable with that stuff, but it didn't make a bit of difference.

As soon as we'd sat down and I'd introduced her Cliff said, "wow! our boy sure is moving up in the world. Tell me, Tommie, how much is this stiff paying you for your time? I'll double it!"

Tommie blushed, and I said, "Jesus, Cliff, will you shut the hell up? I guess it's been so long since you saw a lady, you've forgotten how to talk to one.

"Sorry, Tap," I said, turning to her. "These guys aren't so bad, really, but they're a little rough around the edges."

"No rougher than you, Jack!" said Rudy, laughing. "You remember those Tri-Delts we knew junior year? They were--"

"Shut it, Rudy!" Now I was blushing. There never had been any Tri-Delts, but I couldn't tell if Tommie knew that. "We're going to change the tone here--let's talk about the ballet, shall we? Did you fellows get to see this year's production of 'The Nutcracker'? I felt that the Sugarplum Fairy's performance was absolutely divine!"

To my great relief Tommie had relaxed and was laughing along with us. Rudy and Cliff cut out the raunchier parts of their teasing--though they never really let up on me--and we had a fun evening. On the way home Tommie was joking about how "charming" my friends were, so I guess everything was all right.

****************

So, like I said, seven weeks. Until a Sunday afternoon in early August, around 2:00. We'd slept late at my apartment, made love, cooked some breakfast, then gone out to do the grocery shopping. We thought we'd lie around and read the paper for a while (I was hoping we'd have a "nap"), then Tommie was going to cook me dinner--she found a recipe in the Star she wanted to try.

As I unlocked the door, our arms full of grocery bags, we could hear the phone ringing. Tommie wanted to hurry and get it, but I just said, "forget it, honey--the machine will pick up." I put the bags down and went downstairs to get the last two which were by the front door of the building.

As I got back Tommie was rushing out the door of my apartment, tears on her face.

"Tap, what the--"

"You BASTARD!" she shouted, glaring at me furiously. She ran straight for the stairs and disappeared. I put the bags down on the floor and raced after her, but by the time I got to the front door she was pulling away in a cab.

What the hell?! I went back upstairs and let myself in. It had to be the phone call, so I pushed the button on the answering machine.

"Hey baby, it's Alison! Sunday's maybe a strange time for a booty call, but I feel like spending the afternoon bouncing up and down on something big and hard--ya think you've got time for me? I'd love to squeeze you in, heh heh. Gimme a call!"

Shit. Shit shit shit. I hadn't talked to Alison in two months, since our night together the week before Tommie and I got serious. I hadn't spoken to her, missed her, or even thought about her. But Tommie had no way to know that.

I called Tommie five or six times that afternoon and evening but she wouldn't pick up the phone. So after the third or fourth time I left a brief, careful message.

"Tommie, I swear Alison is just a casual friend, somebody I used to have sex with once in a while. I haven't seen her in more than two months--not since you and I had our conversation about being exclusive. Please, I'm telling you the complete truth. Please give me a call."

She never called back, and my instinct on Monday morning was to race down the hall to her desk and confront her, but I decided not to. I also skipped the lunch group that day and ate by myself. But that night I called Katie and had a long, serious conversation with her. Thank goodness she liked me, and I'm pretty sure she believed my story.

"I'm so sorry this happened, Jack. As you probably know, Tommie's been badly hurt by guys in the past, and she's sometimes quick to believe the worst."

"I know that, Katie, and I feel terrible--but I really didn't do anything wrong. I love Tommie. I haven't quite come out and said it yet, but that was mainly because I didn't want to pressure her."

She sighed. "Let me see what I can do, okay Jack? I'll try to meet her for lunch, and I'll give you a call after I see her. It may take me a few days though."

"Thanks, Katie--I really owe you. I don't want to lose her, and I don't want her to be hurt because of a simple misunderstanding."

On Tuesday I thought I'd risk having lunch with the usual group, but Tommie wasn't there. And she didn't show up on Wednesday, either. Irene must have seen the look on my face--she asked me if something was going on, but I just shook my head and she didn't press it any further.

Thursday I decided to eat on my own again, and as I came out of the building I saw Tommie walking by herself, maybe 50 yards in front of me. I just followed to see where she was headed--I wasn't going to bother her until Katie had talked to her.

I was astonished at how many guys tried to hit on her! It was lunchtime, so the streets were crowded, but in three blocks I swear there must have been eight or ten guys who tried to strike up a conversation with her. I couldn't see what she said or did but she managed to chase them away--though one guy kept at it for a block and a half, until she actually stuck a finger in his face and shouted at him.

I saw her go into a little café, so I went off and had lunch by myself, thinking about Tommie and what it must be like to get that kind of attention from men all the time. Jesus, no wonder she was gun-shy.

That night after dinner Katie called me. "She's better, Jack. We had lunch today downtown. She's calmed down a lot and I can tell she misses you, though she wouldn't exactly admit it.

"She started off crying to me about how you were just the same as all the other guys who've fucked her over, and I let her go on for a few minutes. Then when we'd eaten I told her about my conversation with you, and tried to get her to see that it wasn't what she thought.

"What really helped is that she trusts my opinion a lot, and she knows I like you. Anyway, the long and short of it is you should call her--I think she's ready to hear your side of things in person."

"God, thank you, Katie! I don't know what I would have done without you--that's corny but it's true. I've really been trying to be patient, but I was afraid she'd just give up on me without even giving me a chance."

We got off the phone and I called Tommie right away. When she answered I said, "hi, Tommie--please don't hang up! Do you think you could give me a chance to explain that message, before you just drop out of my life?"

"Okay, Jack," she said--sounding sad and discouraged. "Katie convinced me I have to at least talk to you. Why don't we have lunch somewhere tomorrow?"

"If you want to I could be over in ten minutes," I said, but she just sighed and said, "no, I don't think so. I don't want you in my place right now. I'll meet you for lunch at 12:15, all right?"

"Could we make it dinner instead? I don't want us to have to interrupt our conversation and rush back to work."

There was a silence, and then she reluctantly agreed.

"Thanks, Tommie--I appreciate it. How about we meet at the Akropolis diner?" 

****************

I didn't see Tommie at all the next day, and I skipped the lunch group at Armando's. When I got to the Akropolis at 5:45 she was waiting for me in a booth, looking tired and unhappy. I bent down to kiss her cheek but she pulled away and shook her head, so I just sat down on the seat across from her.

"Hello Jack," she said without much energy. "Let's order first, okay?"

After we'd looked through the menu and given the waitress our orders, I said, "I'd like to speak first, Tommie, is that okay?"

She nodded. "But I'm not in the mood for bullshit, Jack. If you don't want to be straight with me, we can just stand up and walk out of here and go our separate ways." I saw her eyes starting to fill with tears.

I reached across the table to take her hands--she tried to pull away, but I gently held on and she relaxed, letting me hold them.

"Tap--Tommie. I love you. I haven't said it before, because I didn't want to come on too strong and freak you out, but I do. I want to explain Alison's message. I will tell you the absolute, complete truth, and answer any questions you have.

"If after that you want to tell me to take a hike---

"Well, I hope you won't! Let's leave it at that!" I grinned at her, and she smiled a little despite herself.

"Before you and I started seeing each other I went out from time to time with a couple of women, including Alison. All of them were casual, non-exclusive relationships. Alison and I were basically 'friends with benefits,' except we're not even especially close friends. We used to see each other maybe every other month or so, when one of us was lonely or horny.

"I haven't seen her since May--since the night after the first Friday night you stayed with me." Tommie's face tightened but she didn't say anything, and I went right on.




The Blonde Ch.  01



"I wanted to spend the next day with you, you remember? But you were afraid things were moving too fast, and you took off. I was disappointed, and a little hurt; so I called Alison and we got together that night. We had dinner and went to bed together. 

"And when it was over, I missed you. That's the truth--I didn't feel guilty, because you and I hadn't made any promises to each other, but I wished I was still with you instead of with Alison.

"I swear to God, I have not spoken to her or seen her even once since that night. The message you heard was the typical kind of 'booty call' we used to make; she had no idea I was in a relationship now."

I stopped, and sat back. Tommie was gazing intently at me, her brows furrowed, tears on her cheeks. She said, "is this really the truth, Jack? Can I trust you?"

I said, "as God is my witness. On my mother's grave, I swear to you."

She looked at me a while longer; then she stood up and came around to my side of the booth. "Move over," she said in a shaky voice, and then she had her arms around me, hugging me and crying, while I said, "shh" and "it's okay" and felt the joy of holding her again.

We did that for about ten minutes, ignoring the smiling faces of the people around us, and then I said, "how about if you sit right next to me while we eat? I don't want to let you get away again."

She giggled and nodded. We ate side-by-side, happily bumping thighs and elbows and shoulders, talking about what had happened and how we'd missed each other and how silly it was to let a misunderstanding like that make us both so miserable.

When it was time for dessert Tommie said she was full, but I insisted on ordering two pieces of a big gooey chocolate cake like the one I'd brought her on our first dinner date. "Now go sit across from me, honey, because I have a couple of other things to tell you."

She looked alarmed and I said, "just little things, I swear!"

I took her hands in mine and said, "I promise I will never lie to you--but I did tell you a little fib once, and I want to get it off my chest."

With a sorrowful look I said, "my aunt didn't actually send me those orchestra tickets. I bought them because I hoped you would go out with me."

Tommie smiled and said, "that's terrible, Jack! What an evil man you are. Your punishment is that you have to pay the check."

"I was going to do that anyway--how about if my punishment is I've got to take you out somewhere really expensive for dinner this weekend?"

She agreed, and I went on, "that was my first and only lie to you. But I do have something else to tell you. When we met at Minestra, when Irene was showing you around that first day--that's not the first time I ever saw you."

"Really? I don't remember another time."

"It was here, at the Akropolis. That's why I wanted to come back here with you tonight." I told her the whole story, of being so attracted to her and of the conversation I'd overheard between her and Katie.

"I'd just listened to you talk about how miserable it was to be treated like a sex object, and how badly the men in your life behaved--and then when I saw you I was overwhelmed--really. I wanted you, and I felt ashamed of myself.

"After that day I vowed to myself I would never be the kind of asshole who treated women the way you'd been treated. And when we met at Minestra I did everything I could to show you I was a decent, honest guy--not just some pussyhound who was determined to get you into bed.

"I didn't know if we'd ever go out, or if we'd even be friends, but at least I could behave like a pleasant, respectful, kind colleague."

She smiled at me. "Is that why it took so long for you to ask me out? And why you came up with that cockamamie story about your aunt?"

"Pretty lame, wasn't it? But yes, absolutely. I wanted you to know me as a friend first, to have an idea of what I was like. And I hoped that a concert together would feel a little less like a 'date,' a little less like just one more guy hitting on you."

Tommie pulled one of my hands to her lips and kissed it. "Well, it seems to have worked, baby. I never realized what a player you were until it was too late, and now I'm in love with you so I guess I'm stuck."

"Well, it was ... wait a minute. In love with me?"

She nodded silently, a mock-solemn look on her face. I waited a minute and then said, "I think we need to get the check and get the hell out of here!"

****************

We were lying in my bed, Tommie curled up against me, and I wondered whether it was possible to be any happier. We'd come running back to my place from the Akropolis and jumped into bed, tearing off our clothes as fast as we could, and we'd fucked like a couple of teenagers alone in mom and dad's house for the first time: fast and furious, desperate to have each other.

And then we'd rested, and snuggled, and kissed; and made love again slowly, with whispers and sighs and promises. Tonight was the first time we'd said "I love you" to each other, and it meant a lot to both of us.

"Hey," she said quietly, "are you asleep?"

"Snxxxx," I replied, pretending to be snoring, and she poked me. "I'm serious, Jack. I need to talk to you, but it can wait until the morning if you want."

"No, I'm awake." I disentangled myself from Tommie and sat up against the headboard, putting a pillow behind me. "This sounds serious."

"It is. Well, not bad serious. But it's just ... you need to know some things about my past. I guess you know a little already, from that conversation between me and Katie. But I need to tell you the rest of it. And then I think you'll understand why I went so crazy when I heard the message on your machine."

I kissed her forehead. "I'll listen to anything you want to tell me, but you don't have to unless you want to. I already know that you're sexy as hell and that men have treated you badly--I assume that's what this is about?"

"Yeah. I guess some of it you can imagine, but I want you to know about all of it. Tonight, if that's okay. Because the way I feel about you is serious, and ... and I want you to know, that's all."

Some of what she told me I might have been able to predict. By the time she was 13 Tommie had already been sexier-looking than her 16 year-old sister Alice, and she had no idea how to cope with male attention. What made it worse is that Alice was jealous of her, and not the least bit protective or helpful.

"And my parents were clueless--I couldn't tell them anything about what was going on. I was pretty much on my own."

Like every teenage girl she'd been desperate to fit in, and flattered by male attention. 

Predictably, what that had led to was being taken advantage of by several members of the high school football team. But what happened after that was perhaps less predictable, and more devastating.

"During senior year I was seduced by my friend Rita's father. He was tall and handsome and all of us had a bit of a crush on him. He was always friendly to all of Rita's friends, and her house was our main hang-out; we had pizza parties there, and occasional sleepovers.

"Anyway, during one of those sleepovers he sat around drinking beer with us girls, there were about five of us staying over. Rita's mom was away seeing her grandma.

"And we all went to sleep eventually--and in the middle of the night Rita's dad came and woke me, said he needed to talk to me. So we went back into his bedroom--I was pretty sleepy and still a bit drunk--and he sat next to me on the bed, put his arm around me, and told me how special I was. Not only beautiful, you know, but intelligent and sensitive. I was the only person who understood him, he said--his wife was so focused on her own work, she barely paid attention to him anymore."

Tommie looked at me. "I know all of this is the usual bullshit, Jack, but I was 18 then and I'd never heard it before, and he was this handsome older man I had a crush on. Anyway, he started touching me and kissing me, and we made out for a while, and I was in heaven. And pretty soon he had my nightie up to my shoulders and his boxers off and he was fucking the hell out of me.

"It didn't hurt, because my virginity was long gone, and he was a grown man and knew what he was doing, so the sex was wonderful. We made love for hours--I guess I should say 'fucked,' but I thought we were making love. And in the early morning I sneaked back into the room the girls were in.

"After that we started meeting whenever we could, for about four months. I thought I was in love. Arthur had sort of hinted that he wanted to be with me, and maybe he'd get a divorce, you know? He never promised anything, but just a hint was more than enough for me. I was such an idiot! Thank God he'd had a vasectomy, because I never even thought about birth control.

"We kept it completely secret, not only from his wife of course but from Rita. We used to meet in motels, or sometimes at his house when Rita and her mom went on college visits. He loved being the 'sex guide' for a young, inexperienced woman; we fucked in lots of different positions, he taught me all about oral sex, and we did anal a few times because he really liked it, even though I didn't.

"And then one day I went over there after school, to do some studying with Rita, and when I rang the bell her mom came to the door, stared furiously at me, and slapped me across the face. She called me a 'fucking slut' and told me to never come back.

"At school the next day Rita wouldn't talk to me--and even worse, she told everyone we knew that I'd been a whore with her father. She was devastated, of course, but she took it out on me instead of her dad. I heard her mom threw him out of the house; they got divorced about a year later.

"This time even my parents heard about it, because Rita's mom called and yelled at them. They were furious with me. I tried to explain that Arthur had seduced me--I think my mom sort of understood but my father was so angry he wouldn't speak to me for a month.

"And of course the rest of my senior year at school was a total nightmare. The kids made my life miserable, and even some of the male teachers saw me as fair game. I got propositioned by several of them and they wouldn't leave me alone until I threatened to tell the principal."

Tommie was dry-eyed and calm as she told me this terrible story. I guess she'd long ago done all the crying about it that she would ever do. I hugged her to me and said, "I'm so sorry, baby. It sounds completely awful."

She smiled and said, "yeah, well, it wasn't so great. You've heard most of it, I can tell you the rest pretty quickly."

"There's MORE?"

"Oh, yeah--college."

She sat silently for a minute before continuing. "You remember I transferred, right? I did a year and a half at Ball State, and then finished at IU?"

I nodded.

"Well, there was a reason for that. There were several professors at Ball State who wanted to sleep with me--they tried the usual seduction stuff, but after Arthur I had no trouble seeing through their bullshit.

"But there was also an accounting professor who tried to blackmail me, sophomore year. He gave me two Ds and an F on our first three problem sets, and when I went to his Office Hours to talk to him he told me straight out that I "made his dick hard" and he wanted to sleep with me.

"And he said unless I fucked him he'd fail me for the course and I'd lose my scholarship."

"Jesus," I said. "I know stuff like that goes on, but ... fuck."

"Yeah--fuck. Anyway, by this time I was a little bit smarter. I told him I had to think about it, and I'd come back the next week at the same time. When I went back, I had a tape recorder hidden in my purse and two girlfriends standing just outside his door, which I left open a crack.

"I got him to talk about it again, to make him say that he was blackmailing me for sex, and then I busted him. I went to the Dean of the Faculty with my recording and my girlfriends to back me up, and they fired him within a week."

"Good for you--that scumbag."

"Yeah, but it was still a big mess. They tried to keep my name out of it, but word spread fast and the student newspaper published a big article with my name and picture. So it was pretty obvious I had to get the hell out of there.

"My grades were good enough to transfer, so I applied to Indiana and left the next semester."

She gave me a little kiss and said, "almost done--we're almost at the end of Tommie's tale of woe."

"I could listen to you forever, honey. I'm just so sorry you had to live through all of this."

"By the time I got settled at IU I figured I'd seen it all. I was as wary and suspicious as a person could possibly be. I was still getting hit on by guys all the time, but I just blew them off. I probably didn't have more than five dates the first two years I was there. If it seemed like the guy just wanted to get into my pants--if I got even a little hint of that--he was history.

"I never went out alone, always with girlfriends. Once I was at a party with my friend Monica and she saved me. Some guy put something in my beer, roofies or something. She was dancing with somebody, but she happened to look over and see two guys kind of leading me towards the door, looking half-asleep. She screamed really loud and ran towards me, and the assholes just dropped me and hightailed it out of there. Thank God she was there! Ever since then I've been super-careful about watching my drink, any time I'm out in a public place."

I just shook my head. Who would drug a woman and then have sex with her while she was unconscious? What kind of scumbag do you have to be, to think that anything about that is okay?

"But even with all that caution, I got burned one more time. Senior year there was this grad student in chemistry, Rick. I was introduced to him in the Student Center by my roommate--he'd been her TA and she thought he was a fantastic guy. We dated for a couple of months and he didn't push me for sex at all, kept saying 'whenever you're ready, honey.'

"So I finally let my guard down and we started fucking. And it was all he wanted to do, day and night; I could hardly get any studying done. He had an off-campus apartment and I basically lived there.

"And after about two months of nonstop blowjobs and fucking he just dumped me. He broke my heart, told me 'it had been fun' but he didn't think we were meant for each other. Two weeks later I saw him in the campus pub being all lovey-dovey with somebody else, a brunette with big tits."

Again I pulled her gently to me and comforted her silently, just holding her.

"Nothing so special about that last story, I guess," she said. "Just another guy being an asshole--it happens every day. But it had happened to me so many times....

"Since college I've dated a lot, had a few 'boyfriends,' but no one seriously. A lot of men just dropped me when I wouldn't fuck them after two or three dates. I'm 27 years old and I've only had two real relationships before you--Rick, and another dickwad named Scott, about a year ago."

"I know about him," I said. "You were telling Katie about him in the diner."

"It is such a fucking CURSE being sexy!" she burst out. "I look at myself in the mirror, and I can see I'm attractive, you know, reasonably pretty.

"But I'm not a supermodel, I'm not Angelina Jolie. Why the hell don't men leave me alone? Why do they think it's okay to come up to me and say, 'the moment I saw you I got stiff in my pants,' or 'I want to fly you to Las Vegas and have you sit on my face for a whole weekend,' or 'I'll bet you can suck a golfball through a straw'?"

"Really?" I said.

"Really. I've heard every one of those, and plenty of others that are equally crude--if less inventive."

"Well you know, Tap," I said carefully, "I think you're beautiful and sexy too. But I also think you're funny and smart and thoughtful and incredibly fun to be with.

"And I like the way you cook, and the way you talk about music, and the ridiculous way you load my dishwasher..." I was pausing after each phrase to kiss her neck. "And the way you leave your socks on in bed, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes..."

I stopped talking because Tommie was giggling, and I turned her head and we started kissing. We kissed for a long time.

"I love you," I said. "And I am not one of those assholes, and I will never ever treat you like that."

"I know that," she said.

****************

After that dinner at the Akropolis, and our wonderful make-up sex, and Tommie's long story about all that she'd been through, things just got better and better. It felt like she trusted me more, and every minute we spent together made me happy--it didn't even matter what we were doing.

I started thinking seriously about marriage; but I knew I would never take that step again without talking to my brother David. He was almost never around so I had to wait awhile before he'd visited enough times to get to know Tommie.

And when I'd gotten his approval, she and I got married.

In light of everything that's happened since ... if I knew then what I know now, would I still have married her? Ah, there's a question.



The Blonde Ch. 02



My big brother David has been my idol ever since I was a kid. Not just because he was eight years older, but because he was the golden boy: All-State in lacrosse at our high school in Ohio, girlfriends galore, and top of his class at MIT, double-majoring in electrical engineering and international relations.

I played lacrosse too, but I didn't even crack the starting line-up until senior year. I had only a couple of dates--and one serious girlfriend, Darlene Brouwer, for about two months. And I was an honor student at Ohio State, graduating with a degree in Computer Science. I did fine, in short, but I was no David.

After college I worked in several IT jobs--first in Columbus, Ohio, and later in Indiana, ending up at Minestra. When he graduated David immediately landed a training internship and then a job flying all over the world for IBM.

Except it wasn't really for IBM. David never talked much about his work, but knowing him as well as I did it was clear that he was really doing some kind of undercover stuff--CIA, NSA, some other government agency, I had no idea. I didn't ask, and I didn't really want to know. He always had a vague yet plausible answer when somebody asked him what he did, exactly. All I knew is that he was home in the US no more than a few times every year, and you never knew where an email would reach him. 

But all of that was only part of the reason I looked up to him so much. The rest was simple: he had always been a fantastic big brother: an advisor, protector, and friend. We were far enough apart in years that we didn't feel competitive. Quite the contrary, he looked out for me, gave me tips at every stage of my life--about girls, about school, about handling mom and dad--even about marrying Amy, though I wasn't smart enough to listen.

David had met Amy a few times and we'd all hung out together on a couple of his infrequent visits home. He never came out and told me not to marry her, but his lack of enthusiasm came through in a subtle way. I picked up on it--but I ignored it. What the hell, I was only 24 and I was in love.

When I caught her cheating on me and the marriage came apart, David managed to be a terrific friend without ever once saying, or even hinting, "I told you so." He visited several times and just hung around, letting me cry and vent and curse about what an evil bitch she was. He helped me pick myself back up and dust myself off, and then he pretty much went back overseas to do whatever it was he did.

And now I was in love again, five years after the end of my first marriage--and I wanted to marry Tap but I knew that I needed David to meet her first. I trusted his judgment completely.

So I emailed him in August and he managed a quick visit to Indianapolis in late September. Tommie and David and I spent all day Saturday together and went out to dinner, and then the next day we met again for brunch before I had to take him to the airport.

"Wow, little brother, that is one sexy woman," is the first thing he said to me when we were alone in the car.

"I know," I said. "Almost scary sexy. I want her so much it kind of freaks me out--and I know that every other guy within a mile is feeling the same way, which is a little disturbing."

"But," he said, "she is clearly crazy about you. And she's sweet, and thoughtful, and funny--hell, man, she's quite a package!"

"Do you think so? I really need to know, David. I know what you thought about Amy--or at least I know you weren't so high on her, and you were right."

He sighed. "Yeah, I was--sorry about that. There wasn't much I could have done, though. You were going to marry her no matter what I said.

"But Tommie, she's different. I hardly know her, of course--but I get a really different feeling there."

He laughed. "Tell me again: WHY does she love you, exactly?"

"Beats me, but I'm not complaining. I guess she thinks I'm a nice guy. As long as you don't tell her otherwise..."

****************

Because I pretty much begged him to, David managed another visit for Thanksgiving. Our parents were dead so we were the only family we had, aside from a few distant cousins.

Tommie and I made the Thanksgiving dinner at my apartment; she asked Alice and her husband Trevor to come down from Toronto, and the five of us had a wonderful day together.

David was charming and funny, as he always is, and I watched how smoothly he deflected questions about his work without ever letting anyone notice he hadn't given them a straight answer. Alice seemed impressed that I did half the cooking and serving and cleaning-up--it appeared that Trevor was more of an old-fashioned, "that's your job, honey" type of guy, so that earned me points with her.

When I took David to the airport on Saturday, we went early so we had time for a long lunch and a serious talk. I got right to it.

"You've met her twice now, David, and spent more time with us both--you even met her sister. Tell me what you think, honestly."

"I like her a lot, Jack--but I told you that the last time. What else do you want me to say?

"I don't know, to tell the truth. But I want to marry her, and I guess I want your ... it's not 'blessing' exactly, but I want you to tell me you think I'm doing the right thing this time."

My brother is a very shrewd guy. He just looked at me for a long time. "Okay, Jack. Well. Tommie is devoted to you, and the two of you are very good together. I watched you getting Thanksgiving dinner on the table: you shared the jobs, you communicated well, you were sweet and supportive with each other, lots of little compliments and warm looks and little touches.

"I can tell that she's smart, in addition to being such a bombshell. And she has a great sense of humor, except that she seems to think YOU'RE funny, which I'd ordinarily consider a bad sign!"

I punched him lightly in the shoulder. Typical brotherly teasing.

"So here's the real question: what's bothering you?"

"Me?" I was caught by surprise.

"Yeah. You guys love each other, it's clear there's not only a huge sexual attraction but lots of other solid stuff there as well--friendship, mutual respect--so why are you so worried?"

I sat back and just looked at him. "Fuck, I always forget how perceptive you are.

"Okay. I really, REALLY want to marry Tommie. I want to be around her for the rest of my life. But yeah, I am worried.

"First, I think it's just that my marriage to Amy was such a disaster. It would hurt like a son-of-a-bitch to have that happen again."

"Let me set your mind at rest about that one," David said with a smile. "Tommie is not Amy--she's not selfish or shallow, and as far as I can see she really cares about you. What else?"

"Three things," I said. "I've been making a list in my head for weeks, but everything on the list except the top three is trivial stuff, so it's down to three.

"First, I'm afraid that she'll stop wanting sex as much as I do, after a few years. That was one of the problems with Amy, you know. At first we were like bunnies, doing it all the time. But after a couple of years of marriage I was the only one who kept wanting it--she would have been happy with once a week or so.

"I figured okay, she just doesn't have as high a sex drive as I do; and I put up with it, but I didn't like it. Until I found her with dickhead... Anyway, I would hate to go through that again.

"Second, I'm a little afraid of how suspicious she is--I've told you a bit about how badly men have treated her in the past, but you have no idea how awful it was. We nearly broke up after about two months because of a phone message she heard from an old fuck-buddy of mine. It took an intervention from her friend Katie to even calm her down enough to hear my side of it.

"And I worry a little that something like that might happen again--some innocent thing that could send her off the deep end. So that's two.

"The last one is how sexy she is. Men are universally attracted to her, it's almost unbelievable. I once followed her down the street and was amazed how many guys tried to pick her up.

"It's not that I don't trust her, because I do. I know she loves me, and I know she's not looking around. It's just....

"It's just that, if after a few years she gets a little bored with me, or we fight about something and she gets pissed-off, there's always going to be some really hot-looking guy waiting in the wings to try his luck."

One of the things I love about my brother is that he thinks before he speaks. I watched him take all this in and reflect on it. We ate for several minutes in silence before he replied.

"Well," he said. "About the first one. I'm the last guy in the world who can help you there--I've never had been married, never had a relationship last longer than a few months."

"Really? There's no Natasha tucked away in Smolensk, or Anna in Azerbaijan, or maybe a Luisa in Venice?"

"I'm impressed, Jack--that's more geography than I ever would have expected out of you! But no, no long-term honeys in my life.

"But I guess I think, if two people are married and they love each other, and they communicate well--I guess I figure they ought to be able to work it out. It's just compromising, isn't it? Like, somebody likes to sleep with the window open, the other one likes it shut? I mean, you work out some sort of deal.

"I don't know, sometimes you have to jerk yourself off, or she helps or something. And other times, maybe she has sex with you even though she's tired or doesn't really want to--just because she loves you."

He sat some more. "I guess I don't see the third one as a deal-breaker either. I mean, I admit that Tommie is amazingly sexy."

He looked at me. "There's just something unique about her. If she weren't with you, I could easily imagine going after her myself. So I get what you're talking about.

"But as long she loves you and is happy with you ... well, she's probably already seen every kind of horny guy trick there is, and gotten pretty damn good at fending them off.

"So like you say, unless the marriage goes south or you do some typical 'Jack-the-dickhead' thing to fuck it up"--he grinned at me--"the fact that other guys are turned on by her shouldn't be an issue.

"But her suspicions ... that seems like a harder one. She needs to trust you, Jack, really totally trust you, if the marriage is going to work. That's true for everyone, and probably way more true for Tommie.

"So I'd for sure marry her--my God, don't let her get away. But plan to do a lot of talking, a lot of staying in touch with what's on her mind, and be sure that the two of you never let any problems fester between you. I guess I'd tell that to anybody who's thinking about getting married, but especially to you and her.

"And can you please schedule the wedding for when I'm in town?"

****************

We did, too. We were married at the end of April. Katie and Tap's sister Alice were the two matrons of honor, and I asked Eric to be my co-best man along with David, who flew in from overseas for three days.

Everything about it was wonderful, except that Tommie scowled at the minister when he said, "do you, Thomasina Ann Parker..." She hates her given name, just HATES it, and won't let me ever use it, even to tease her.

My absolute favorite moment of the whole day came late in the evening, at the post-reception party, when just about a dozen of our closest friends were hanging out in our honeymoon suite for a couple more bottles of champagne. Everyone gave a toast, most of them razzing me in one way or another, and then it was my turn.

I stood up, more than a little tipsy, and grinned at everyone. "I know you all know what I'm going to say. I'm going to give you some sappy, mushy words about my new bride--about how gorgeous and lovable and sweet and generous and smart and funny and irresistible she is, and about how I will spend all the rest of my days on this planet trying to make her as happy as she makes me..."

Groans, and "awww"s, and mocking laughter greeted this.

"But before I get to that part I want to raise a glass to Katie and Eric--Tommie's friends and now mine, two people I really admire and whose good sense I will always trust.

"They're kind of an unusual couple, though, very different from one another, so it's hard to imagine how they stay together." I had a grin on my face, and my listeners began to sense that something funny was coming.

"Just in the last two days each of them took me aside to speak to me about Tommie--but Katie's words were so vague, while Eric's were incredibly specific. It was kind of funny, actually.

"Katie said to me--what was it? oh, yes. Katie said I'd better take good care of Tommie or she'd kill me. Awfully general, right? But Eric said, 'Jack, if you ever hurt Tommie I'll cut your balls off with a rusty hunting knife.' "

Roars of laughter from around the room, and I raised my glass over the din to say, "here's to Tommie's two great friends and protectors!"

****************

Were we happily married? Yes and no. Yes we were, for about the first four years. At least I was happy--almost beyond my wildest dreams--but I really believe Tommie was too. But after that, over a period of a year and half or two years, it just seemed to slip away. Gradually, inexorably, and I couldn't make it stop.

Our honeymoon in Cancun was fabulous. Coming home and living together as man and wife was fabulous. Buying a house in the suburbs, just a few blocks from Katie and Eric, and getting settled in it together was fabulous.

I don't know how to say it without invoking all the boring clichés. Tommie made me feel complete. I woke up every day smiling to myself, seeing her head on the pillow next to me, knowing that we'd have breakfast together and drive into work together, eat lunch together many days, and then come home and have the evening together.

She was funny and supportive and surprising and tender. She loved me and she made sure to let me know it all the time. And our sex life was fantastic. 

It wasn't that she was some sort of sexual athlete--nor was I--or that everything was dildos and handcuffs and trapezes. Our lovemaking was probably like that of many married couples: fun and energetic sometimes, relaxed and intimate other times.

But Tommie was so sexy, just looking at her standing in the kitchen cooking spaghetti turned me on. Seeing her smile when we clinked beer bottles together and said "cheers" turned me on. Reading the occasional flirty email from her turned me on.

And my fears that our libidos would be badly matched--as mine had been with Amy--turned out to be quite unfounded. I initiated sex more than Tommie, but there were lots of times when she was eager to jump my bones and made that very clear. From time to time when I wanted to play she was tired or distracted, but she never said "no" without a gentle smile and a promise that later, or the next day, she'd be coming after me. And she lived up to it, too.

Even after the first few months, there'd be times on weekends when we'd spend hours in bed, touching and licking and fucking, then napping for a while and starting over. I could never get enough of her, but I never felt deprived either.

A couple of months after our second anniversary Tap turned 30 and the alarm on her biological clock starting ringing, loudly. I was nearly 34 and more than ready myself, so we began the fun process of making a baby.

And it was fun, for a while, with the scheduling and the jokes about when and how often and in what position. But after a year, with no results, it started to be less fun--and more like a duty to have sex at just the right times. Another six months without a pregnancy, and it was time to get tested.

The news was pretty devastating: while I was shooting lots of baby-makers, Tommie had some rare type of uterine malformation that meant she couldn't carry a baby to term--she had perfectly healthy eggs, but her uterus couldn't grow them. Sometimes problems like that can be addressed by surgery, but in her case three different doctors said it couldn't.

I got us a few days off from work and we flew to the Outer Banks of North Carolina for a quiet vacation. We slept a lot--especially Tommie, who was terribly depressed--and walked on the beach, and talked. Sometimes she would just sit and cry, while I held her in my arms.

When she was feeling calmer I raised the possibility of adoption. "I don't know, Jack," she said, after a long silence.

"I've thought of it too--but I just don't know if ... if that's what I want for us. I so much wanted to have your babies...."

She started to cry again, and I rocked her in my arms. I was disappointed too, but nowhere near as upset as Tommie. We talked some more that evening and decided that we'd put off the question of adoption for a few months, and see how we felt after time had passed.

****************

It wouldn't be right to say that "everything changed" after we found out we couldn't have children, but something definitely changed in Tommie. We gradually recovered from the initial sadness, we went back to our great life together--but she was quieter, more thoughtful, and sometimes very distant from me.

We still talked openly, and I knew that there wasn't anything she was hiding; it was just that the sadness sometimes rolled over her like a wave, and I pretty much had to just wait it out. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for 3-4 days.

One October day on our ride home from work she said, "Jack, I've been thinking about looking for another job."

"Oh?"

"I like Minestra fine, and it's really great seeing you during the day so much." She smiled and squeezed my hand. "But I'm a little bored, and with the whole baby thing... I think it would be good for me to have a change. Something new and different, a new set of challenges to focus on."

So Tap spoke to Ben, who told her he'd miss her but he'd give her a terrific recommendation, and she started looking around. She had four or five interviews for Executive Secretary/Personal Assistant type jobs, and got three callbacks. In the end the offer she was leaning towards taking came from a guy named Damon Ebberson, who ran an enormous furniture retail and wholesale business based in Indianapolis called Grand Valley, Limited. He had about a hundred and eighty stores all over the Midwest, as well as a bunch of factories scattered around the country.

As you might expect, interviewing for jobs--for somebody who looked like Tommie--meant trying to judge whether she was getting hired for her looks. Even more, it meant working out whether the guy hiring her was going to be putting the moves on her all the time. Tommie was more experienced in dealing with this crap than anyone should have to be, and she told me a lot of stories.

One guy, the managing partner of a law firm, did everything but drool onto her blouse during the interview. And when she told him straight out that she was happily married and didn't sleep around, he made clear that the interview was over. "Fuckhead" was her concise description of that guy.

"So, tell me about this Ebberson," I said. "You think he'd be a good person to work for?"

"Well, I didn't even meet him in the first round of interviews--that struck me as a good sign, actually. A guy named Don Harrington talked to me, one of his two vice-presidents, and I thought it went okay.

"On the second round I met Damon and had lunch with him. He's a dapper guy, maybe mid-40s, really tan and fit. Like he plays two sets of tennis four times a week. On the short side--several inches shorter than you. And very straightforward--told me right away to call him Damon and that he didn't like a lot of formality.

"We talked about what he needed a Personal Assistant to do and there's nothing there I didn't do for Ben, or couldn't learn to do for him. And they're offering me about 20% more than Minestra's paying me." She grinned. "Enough to spruce up your wardrobe a bit, sweetie."




The Blonde Ch. 02



This was a running joke between us--I didn't care much for clothes shopping, and I wore the same stuff all the time. Tommie was always eager to drag me into a few stores and get some new things.

"So did you say yes to him?"

"Not yet." She looked at me. "There's one thing, Jack--and we need to talk about it. Damon travels a fair amount and he would want me along on some of the trips--mostly to take notes during meetings and make logistical arrangements and stuff. It would mean 2-3 nights away at a time, maybe every other month or so. And I told him I couldn't agree to that without talking to you first."

I was instantly suspicious. Not of Tommie, not in the least--but of this guy I'd never met. I knew how men looked at her, and what they thought about.

"Okay--can you tell me how the conversation went?" 

"Well, I'd been watching him closely, of course. There's no doubt that he thinks I'm attractive, but he was perfectly professional--no leering, no flirting or inappropriate jokes.

"When he mentioned the traveling I said, 'Damon, just to be clear--I'm a married woman and I'm totally faithful to my husband.'

"And he looked shocked for a minute, and then he smiled and shook his head and said, 'no no, Tommie, nothing like that. These are business trips only. In fact, your husband would be welcome to come along anytime and stay in the hotel with you, if he's willing to pay his own way. I wouldn't need you most evenings so you and he could enjoy a bit of a vacation.' "

That eased my mind quite a bit. "Wow, that sounds like an okay deal."

"I thought so too." She smiled at me. "I'm inclined to take the job, Jack, unless you think I shouldn't."

We talked about it for a while longer and agreed it sounded like a nice opportunity.

"Can I take you out for a fancy dinner to celebrate? Maybe spend a little of that 20% raise?"

She kissed me and said, "absolutely. But first we're stopping at Richard Avery's and buying you some new clothes!" 

****************

Tommie's first several months working for Damon went very well. He treated her with respect, she liked the other people in the office, and the work was interesting and challenging. I met him for the first time at Grand Valley's lavish Christmas party and I liked him. 

My mind was also set at ease a little by meeting his wife, Elena. She was at least ten years younger than he was, and a total knockout. She seemed to be of Mexican or Latin American descent, and spoke with a charming accent. As far as I could tell they were devoted to each other.

In early January Tommie made her first business trip with Damon, to Asheville, North Carolina, and I took a couple of days off and went along.

We had a lot of fun. As promised, Damon didn't need her in the evenings except for one dinner meeting, and the other nights Tommie and I had time on our own. I joined for the next trip as well, to Las Vegas in April, and for two more during the summer.

As for the other trips, when I couldn't go because of work, Tap and I spoke every night on the phone. She seemed happy, and her normally high level of wariness where men were concerned didn't seem to be picking up anything inappropriate.

In November, though, that all changed. I couldn't reach her on Saturday night for our usual evening phone call--she was in Tucson with Damon and several other people from the company--and on Sunday morning Damon called me.

"Jack, I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this. Everything's okay, Tommie's fine, but--well, someone slipped something into her drink last night."

"What?" I was frantic. "Is she okay? Should I fly out there?"

"No no, it's really fine. It was Don Harrington, that son-of-a-bitch! He was trying to hustle her out of the restaurant but I spotted them and stopped it in time. I got a cab and took her to the hospital, she was there all night. Tommie's back at the hotel now getting packed, one of the female staff from the hotel is helping her, and we'll be flying back in an hour. If you want to meet us at the airport we'll be getting in around 5:45."

"I'll call her," I said, and he replied, "no, you probably shouldn't. She's still a little vague. We can both tell you about it when we get back."

Needless to say I was beside myself all afternoon, and got to the airport almost an hour before the plane landed. Tommie ran into my arms, looking tired, and we hugged each other tightly.

"I'm really okay, honey--I'm bushed but I'm fine. Damon was there at the right time, thank God!"

Damon greeted me and I thanked him, shaking his hand like he was my long-lost father or something. He just smiled and said, "no problem, Jack. I'm just glad everything is okay. I've got to get home to Elena, so I'll let Tommie tell you all about it.

"Tommie, if you need a day or two, by all means take some time. Let me know when you're ready to come back in, all right?"

On the way home I finally got the story from Tommie. She'd been having dinner with Don Harrington, one of Damon's VPs, in the hotel restaurant when all of a sudden she felt very woozy. She never drank alcohol when I wasn't with her, so she had no idea what had happened. Don got her up from her chair and started to guide her towards the elevators, telling her she "needed to lie down for a little while."

"But while we were waiting--I guess I must have been draped all over Don, I could barely stand up--Damon came over from the lobby and asked what the problem was. The next thing I knew, I was sliding to the floor and Don was running out of the hotel as fast as he could.

"I only vaguely remember the rest. Damon must have gotten me to the hospital. I sort of recall a nice old white-haired man in a lab coat who came and took my pulse, and then I must have slept.

"When I woke up this morning Damon was sitting in the chair next to my bed. They brought me some oatmeal and toast, and after I ate they said I could check out, so Damon took me back to the hotel and one of the receptionists helped me change my clothes and pack, and then Damon came back and took me to the airport. I slept some more on the plane, and by the time we landed I felt more normal."

I took Tommie inside and made her some soup and put her to bed; she slept for 13 hours, and the next morning she wouldn't even think about staying home.

"No, baby, I really feel okay--and I'm damned if I'm going to let that prick Don Harrington cost me a day of work. Besides, I want to see if he even has the nerve to show up, and what Damon will do to him if he does."

She said one more thing to me. "You know, it's strange--I'm not so naïve that I don't think stuff like this goes on--you remember some asshole tried it on me in college--but I never would have thought it would be Harrington. When I first interviewed with him, he--well, to be honest, I wondered if he might be gay. And he'd certainly never made any sort of move on me before that, or even flirted with me."

That evening when I picked up Tap at her office she was triumphant.

"He canned him, Jack--you should have seen it! Damon called me into his office and Don was standing there, looking miserable, and Damon just tore into him. He said that he could only assume that Don had planned to rape me, and he told Don he had ten minutes to collect his things and get out.

" 'If I thought they'd convict you I'd make sure you were charged with rape, you son of a bitch,' he said. And he told him that he'd never get a recommendation from him or anyone else at Grand Valley.

" 'You'd best find yourself another place to live, Don,' he told him. 'Because I have a fair number of connections in Indianapolis, and no one who knows me is ever going to hire you.' And Don just stood there looking at the floor, never saying a word--and when Damon was done Don turned on his heel and disappeared, without looking at him or me.

"And Damon said, 'I wanted you to be here for that, Tommie. I am so sorry for what happened, and I feel responsible somehow. I would never have imagined he'd ... well, that he'd ever do anything like that.' "

**************************

For a few weeks after that I was afraid to let Tommie out of my sight, silly though it may have been. She kept reassuring me that she was fine, that Harrington was long gone, that she was being very careful. And I gradually calmed down, though on her next two trips, to Miami and to Asheville again, I insisted on coming along.

By around Christmas I thought we were back to our normal selves. We'd had a wonderful holiday, with a trip up to Toronto to stay with Alice and Trevor, and then a quick visit from my brother David over New Year's.

What I liked best, though, were the three days in between: me and Tap, alone together, snow on the ground, a fire in the fireplace each evening, cuddling and talking and making love.

Things were great. And I thought that in a couple of weeks I'd find a time to bring up the question of adopting children. We'd left it alone for a long while, and it seemed like it was the right time to at least talk about it. I'd be happy either way--but if Tommie felt she wanted children, I wanted them too.

So I planned for the conversation--but we didn't have it. Somewhere in January, almost imperceptibly, things started to slip away from us. Tommie grew quieter, she talked to me less, she spent more time by herself in the evenings, or on the phone.

I asked her several times if there were a problem at work, or between us, but all she would say is that she was "tired." Once or twice, she got annoyed and told me to stop pestering her.

**************************

On the spur of the moment I walked over to Katie and Eric's house, about six blocks away. It was after dinner on a Thursday in late February--Tommie was in New York with Damon. It was her first trip without me since the time when Don Harrington had drugged her.

"Hey Jack, what's going on?" said Eric when he answered the door. He seemed surprised to see me, but not unfriendly. But when Katie came up behind him and saw me, her voice positively dripped with icicles.

"What are you doing here?"

I was stunned. "I, uh ... well, actually, I--Katie, are you mad at me about something?"

A silence. Then without a word she turned and walked away from me, into the back of the house.

"Jesus Christ, Eric," I said, "what's wrong? Did I kill her pet cat without knowing it?"

Eric looked embarrassed; he took my arm and guided me through the house, so we could sit together in his study.

"Listen, Jack, it's--

"I don't know exactly what's going on, but Katie's upset with you because Tommie's upset with you."

"But why, for Chrissakes? That's actually why I wandered over tonight, Eric. I don't mean to impose on you, but I have no idea what's going on with her and I thought you guys might be able to help."

He looked intently into my face, while I wondered what the hell was up. Finally he said, "let me go get Katie and we'll talk."

They came back into the room together and sat side-by-side on the loveseat, facing me. Katie's face was serious but not angry.

"Katie, can you help me out here? Tommie is upset with me and she won't tell me why--now it seems you're pissed at me too."

She looked over at Eric and he nodded. "I really don't think he knows, babe," he said.

She leaned forward and said, "Tommie is worried about your marriage, Jack. She thinks you're ... well, that you're stepping out on her. Maybe you haven't slept with anyone else yet, but she thinks you're headed in that direction."

"What?" I jumped up. "Why? What have I done? I haven't done a Goddam thing! I love her more now than the day we married! What on earth is this about?"

"Back in January, Jack, three weeks ago, Tommie and I went to Cincinnati for Emily's bridal shower, remember? We were gone Saturday and Sunday?" She was talking to me as though I were a child.

"Of course."

"What did you do that Saturday night?"

I thought back. "That must have been the night I hung out with my friend Rudy. We went to Pizzeria Uno, and then to a bar in his neighborhood and had a couple of beers. Why--"

"And what about the hot brunette in a slinky red dress you were making out with? You're not going to tell me that was Rudy, are you?"

"You don't--oh for God's sake, is that what this is about? How did you--" I was suddenly furious. I had to take a couple of deep breaths to calm down.

"I was sitting at the bar--Rudy had gone to the men's room. All of a sudden this babe in a red dress says, "there you are, honey!" or something like that, throws her arms around me and starts kissing me like I'm her lover or something.

"I take her by the shoulders to push her away--at first she doesn't let go but I push hard, and then when I'm looking into her face she said, "oh my God, you're not Brent!" and backs several feet away from me, looking incredibly embarrassed.

"So it turns out she only saw me from across the room, and thought I was her boyfriend and came up to give me a big wet one. She apologized like three times, and we laughed about it for a minute, and then she left. I think she found a booth to wait for him or something. I remember her saying, 'it's a good thing he's not here yet--he sure wouldn't have liked seeing me smooch you like that!' 

"But what does this have to do with me and Tommie? It was nothing! I remember thinking, here's a funny story I can tell her. And then I thought, no, all it will do is upset her, no point in mentioning it. I haven't even particularly thought about it since then."

Katie said, "somebody saw you and told Tommie about it, Jack. She didn't tell me who, or what they said--just that you'd been necking with some really hot woman in a bar while you were out on the town."

"And she never mentioned it to me? She believed that story--and never asked me about it? Jesus, Katie!"

I looked at Eric. "You don't believe this, do you, man? I swear to God, I would never, ever--"

He shook his head, looking unhappy. "No, I don't believe it. I don't think Katie really does either--but she's talked to Tommie several times in the last few weeks and I guess Tommie's going crazy."

Katie nodded, and said, "she doesn't know what to think, Jack. She figures that if it was something innocent, you would have told her about it. And apparently, this is not the first time."

"What?"

She held her hands up, as if to placate me. "I'm just telling you what I heard from Tommie. According to her, you've been seen other times with good-looking women, having drinks or dinner or stuff."

I got up and walked around, a little dazed. "I thought we had a ... honestly, I thought we talked about everything. I would never have imagined that she'd get so upset and keep it secret from me.

"Well, not exactly secret--she keeps giving me these dark looks, but she just shakes her head when I ask what's bothering her. That's why I came over tonight!"

I sat down and looked at them. "Guys, what should I do?"

We talked for another hour. Their advice was simple: talk to Tommie, tell her everything, reassure her, don't give up. Easy advice to give, not so easy to achieve.

I went home and wrote her a long email explaining everything that happened in the bar and asking her to call me that night. But she didn't--and when we talked the next night she was distant and cool, not interested in hearing my explanations or asking me any questions.

On Saturday when I picked her up at the airport it was the same. Damon was cordial and friendly but Tommie looked exhausted and upset. After dinner I insisted that we sit and talk, and I told her the whole story once again.

"And why didn't you tell me about this right away, Jack?" She sounded more like an attorney than my wife.

"It just wasn't a big deal, honey. It never occurred to me that you'd hear about it and be upset. Even if somebody we know had been there, if he'd seen the whole incident it would have been completely clear that it was an innocent mistake--this woman and I weren't anywhere near each other for more than 45 seconds!"

She just sighed, and looked over my shoulder. She said, "okay Jack, let's let it drop."

"No! Not if you don't believe me! I would never, ever cheat on you, Tommie."

I kneeled down in front of her and took her hands. "Never!"

She smiled and squeezed my hands, looking wan and unhappy. "Okay, Jack. I believe you."

She stood up. "I'm feeling really tired from the trip--I think I'm going to go to bed, okay?" And without looking back she headed off to the bedroom.

I sat up for a long time that night, wondering how things had gotten away from us so fast.

****************

Things got better--a little--over the next few weeks. We weren't back to normal, but if Tommie was still worried she hid it better. She wasn't relaxed and loving with me, but she wasn't so distant and suspicious either. Somewhere in between, I guess. 

We made love when I asked her to, but her heart wasn't really in it most of the time. It kind of varied from day to day: sometimes I felt like she'd gotten over it and trusted me again; and other days she'd come home from work and be cold and distant all evening. I never knew who I'd be getting from one day to the next.

But I was working as hard as I could: I was talking to her about everything, making sure that she knew what I was up to every minute we were apart, checking in with her to make sure there were no misunderstandings.

And then came my trip to Chicago.

Minestra sent me up there to meet with someone from a company interested in investing in us and expanding throughout the Great Lakes region. I'd done meetings like this before--but this one turned out to be with a beautiful woman named Karen, tall and willowy with blond hair and amazing blue eyes.

If I weren't married to the sexiest woman I'd ever seen I would surely have been interested, at least theoretically--but all I really did was say to myself "wow, she's a beauty" and get back to thinking about business.

We met on a Wednesday afternoon at 4:30 in a conference room in a big office building downtown and worked for nearly two hours. It was an odd meeting, because Karen didn't seem to be as well-informed about some aspects of the transaction as she should have been. I politely refrained from saying anything, but it made me wonder. Was she in over her head? Was this a case of a hottie having gotten a job she wasn't really qualified for?

The end of the meeting was inconclusive, but that didn't bother me--deals like this usually took half-a-dozen meetings at least, and this was just the first. Karen asked what hotel I was staying at and insisted on taking me to dinner in the restaurant there. She was friendly but not particularly flirtatious, and as we had our coffee after the meal I was already anticipating getting upstairs and giving Tommie a call.

Suddenly, it seemed, I was so sleepy I could barely keep my head up. I saw Karen gazing at me but my vision seemed blurry. I started to say, "Karen, I don't know what's happening to me," and then I think I just closed my eyes.

When I awoke, still groggy, morning light was streaming in the windows. Tommie was snuggled up behind me spoon-fashion. I smiled to myself, enjoying the feeling of her body against me. I turned over to kiss her and there, to my horror, was Karen!

She was naked and smiling. "Oh goodie, you're finally awake." Her hand reached for my cock.

"You were fantastic last night, Jack--I've got to have some more of that right now."

She stroked my dick for a minute while I stared at her, utterly baffled. Then I leapt out of bed and backed away from her.

"What are you doing here? How did you get into my room?"

"Don't you remember, baby?" She gave me a sexy smile and shook her tits at me. "You brought me up here after dinner and fucked the daylights out of me--we were at it half the night.




The Blonde Ch. 02



"You're about the best I've ever had, too. Come back to bed, Jack."

I looked wildly around the room. Her clothes and mine were scattered all over the floor and the chairs. Bewildered, I put my hand on my dick. It felt dry--certainly not sticky the way I'd expect it to be after a night of fucking.

"You need to go," I said. "Put your clothes on."

"But Jack, we can--"

Ignoring her, I grabbed the phone on the desk. "This is Jack Hitchcock in Room 721. I need a doctor sent to my room as soon as possible--right away! Make sure he brings a kit for a blood test. It's a matter of life and death."

Turning back to Karen I said, " I mean it, Karen--you need to go. I don't know what your game is, but there's no way I had sex with you last night, and I'm certainly not about to do it now." Ignoring her squawks of protest I gathered up her clothes, took her by the arm and pushed her into the bathroom to dress. Then I found my boxers and tee shirt and pulled them on.

A minute or two later Karen emerged with her clothes on, saying, "honestly, Jack, I don't know what you're--"

"Just can it, Karen--or whoever the hell you are." I grabbed her purse and put it in her hands, walked her to the door and pushed her out into the hall, closing the door behind her. It didn't occur to me until a few minutes afterwards that I should have looked at her driver's license.

An agonizing 20 minutes later I heard a knock on the door. I opened it and a gray-haired man with a doctor's bag said, "I'm Dr. Rogers--what's the emergency?"

"I was having dinner in the restaurant downstairs last night and things went woozy. The next thing I know I woke up in bed this morning. I'm positive I've been drugged and I want you to take a blood sample for testing."

He tried several times to talk me out of it but I was adamant, and finally Dr. Rogers took my blood and spent twenty minutes examining me. Afterwards he said, reluctantly, "well, it's possible. Your story is kind of crazy, but some of your vitals are a little odd. I wouldn't do any driving for a few hours, and have your doctor at home check you out in a couple of days. Give me your address and I'll arrange for the lab results to be sent to you--it will be a few days."

On the plane home I thought hard. As crazy as it seemed, there was no doubt that someone had set me up--and it didn't make sense that it could be anything besides an attempt to convince Tommie I'd been cheating on her. Which of course must be what that stupid episode in the bar had been. My first suspect would have been Damon--except for the fact that he'd been the one to rescue her when Don Harrington drugged her.

When I got back to Indianapolis I called in and took the rest of the day off, then I phoned Tommie and asked her to come home early. Her first question was "where were you last night? Why didn't you call me?"

"Please, honey--something bizarre happened. Can you leave now and come home?"

When Tommie arrived I asked her to sit down and I told her the whole story.

She was incredulous--and frankly suspicious. "You're telling me a beautiful client drugged you, and then the next morning you woke up in bed with her, both of you naked--but nothing happened?"

I spoke slowly and firmly, looking right into her face. "Tap--I love you. More than I have ever loved anyone. I have NEVER cheated on you, never touched another woman since we've been married--and I never would.

"This may sound like the world's most preposterous story--but I swear to you it's true.

"Please, please trust me. I am not an asshole like some of the guys in your past."

I stopped; and we gazed at one another for a long minute. Suddenly her eyes filled with tears, and Tommie threw her arms around me and started to sob.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she cried, her head on my shoulder. "I do believe you--I've just been hurt so many times..."

She cried, and I held her, and after awhile she felt a little better. We talked about it, and agreed that someone had to be setting me up.

"I've already had Minestra look into 'Karen,' or whoever the fuck she actually is. They called the company in Chicago--it turned out the entire business meeting was a hoax. They have no interest in buying a piece of Minestra, and nobody named Karen working for them.

"Is there anybody at Grand Valley you don't trust? Anyone who's come onto you?"

She laughed, and said, "only about twenty guys! That's just how it is, Jack. But no one I can think of who's been especially persistent about it.

"Let me give it some thought--and maybe I'll ask Damon if there's anyone who occurs to him."

****************

We had a good weekend, a couple of quiet days together. Tommie seemed reassured, somehow, closer to me than before. We made love several times and spent a lot of time talking together. In light not only of my drugging but of the crazy business with that woman in the bar, she finally seemed to believe that somebody was targeting me--or us.

On Tuesday the lab report came in the mail showing that I'd had traces of rohypnol and some other barbiturate in my system; and I showed it to Tommie as soon as she came home.

She read it very carefully, frowning. And then to my relief she laughed with me about it. And she said, "I'm going to speak to Damon about it tomorrow, Jack. Now that we know for sure that you were drugged, maybe he'll be able to have someone investigate."

But Wednesday night everything was different. Tommie came home with a haunted look and didn't want to talk to me.

"What? What's wrong? Did you have a bad day?"

"It's nothing, Jack," she said, not even looking at me. "I just need some time to be alone." And she skipped dinner and went into the bedroom to watch TV. I went in around 8:00 but she wouldn't talk to me, and when I went back around 9:30 to check on her, Tommie was already asleep.

On Thursday she left for work before I was even out of the shower--and during the day she emailed to say she was working late and wouldn't be home until around 9:00. When she came in she was quiet, just like the night before.

I followed her into the bedroom after a few minutes, took the TV remote from her and switched the set off.

"Tap--what's going on?"

"Nothing, Jack, I'm just tired. I need to relax, just let me watch a little TV, okay?"

"No, honey, it's not okay. It seems like one day you and I are fine, and the next you're suspicious and distant and don't trust me anymore. Has something happened?"

She gazed at me. I could tell she didn't want to talk to me, but I wasn't about to let her off the hook.

"Listen, Jack. You have to admit that a lot of weird stuff has happened lately, and frankly--well, it's hard to believe that there could be this much smoke and no fire."

I stared at her. "But Tap--I've told you everything, explained everything that's happened. I am NOT cheating on you! I am not doing ANYTHING wrong, or anything that would undermine our marriage."

"I'm trying to believe that--I really am. But it's not so easy, Jack.

"Listen," she said. "It's been a long week. Let's get through tomorrow, and this weekend we'll sit down and talk through it again--all of it. And we'll decide what to do. Maybe we need counseling or something. But we'll work it out together."

I agreed instantly. "It's a deal. Counseling, anything you want. I need you to trust me, honey. And I'll do whatever it takes."

"Okay," she said--and she picked up the remote and turned the TV back on. I'd been dismissed.

Friday morning, not much had changed--she was quiet and uncommunicative, despite all my efforts to talk to her. I left for work feeling deeply concerned, and thinking that I'd make us a nice dinner that night and see if we couldn't just have a relaxing evening together.

But Tommie never came home Friday night.



The Blonde Ch. 03



Actually that's not quite accurate. She'd clearly been home during the day. The bedroom closet was missing some of her clothes, the dresser drawers were wide-open, and two suitcases were missing from the closet.

Downstairs on the kitchen table were her wedding ring and her engagement ring, which had been my great-grandmother's. And a note, which said, "I trusted you. I loved you. And I still can't believe you would do this."

Shocked and frantic, I did what anybody would have done. I called her cell, but it was turned off. I left a message: "Tommie, I don't know what you think I did, but I didn't cheat on you. I SWEAR. Please call me so we can talk about this. I love you!"

I knew I couldn't call the police--it was far too soon, and in any case Tommie seemed to have left of her own volition. I called her office but it was after 6:00; everyone at Grand Valley had gone home for the weekend. So I called Damon at home.

"Hello?" I recognized the slight lilt of Elena's voice.

"Elena, hi, it's Jack Hitchcock, Tommie's husband."

"Oh yes Jack, how are you?"

"I, uh, fine, thank you. Could I talk to Damon for a minute please?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jack, Damon's off on a trip. He left this afternoon; he called and said he'd be away probably for a couple of weeks."

A couple of weeks? I stared at the phone in horror. "Did he tell you where he was going? And whether Tommie was with him?"

"I know it was out to the West Coast at first, Los Angeles maybe? But I think he's going several places after that, I don't really know. He didn't mention anything about Tommie, but doesn't she usually go with him?"

"Uh, I guess so, most of the time. Listen, Elena--may I ask you please to have Damon call me as soon as you hear from him?"

"Sure, Jack--and I can give you his cell number too, if that would help."

I gratefully took down the number, said goodbye, and called Damon's cell. No answer. I left him a short message, just asking him to call me back.

And then I called Katie and Eric. They had no idea where Tommie was--neither of them had heard from her in more than a week. Katie must have heard from my voice how distraught I was--she asked what was going on and I told her: about the missing clothes, the rings, the note.

"Jack, we'll be right there," she said, and hung up the phone.

We sat in my living room and talked for an hour without making much progress.

"What's so crazy," I said, "is the way her feelings kept changing. We'd have these good talks, I'd reassure her and she seemed to feel better, to trust me--and then she'd come home from work a day or two later and everything would have turned to shit. She was cold and suspicious, and she wouldn't even talk to me!

"I have absolutely no idea what happened since last night, when she suggested that we would talk this weekend."

Thank God Katie and Eric seemed to believe me this time. Tommie had already told them the whole crazy story about my being drugged, but there wasn't any hint that they thought I was up to something. In the end we agreed that Katie would get in touch with Alice, in case she had heard from Tommie, and call me if there was any news.

As soon as they'd left I emailed David. "Call me as soon as you can--urgent, matter of life and death."

The phone rang around 12:30 in the morning, not that I was sleeping. "What's up, Jack--are you okay?"

I filled him in on the whole story: just the headlines first and then, when he asked, the back-story: all the suspicions and odd events of the past few months.

"It seems obvious now that somebody was setting me and Tommie up," I said. "And the fact that she kept feeling better, and then coming home from work and being upset, makes me pretty sure it had to be somebody at Grand Valley."

"Her boss?" he asked.

"I've thought about it, but I don't think so. He's always been very respectful of her; and he was the one who saved her when that asshole tried to drug her."

There was a silence, and I knew David was thinking.

"I don't have any good ideas right now," he said finally. "Let me think about it. I do have some, uh, resources that might be helpful in locating Tommie. It may or may not pan out. I'll give you a call if I hear anything, and you do likewise, okay?"

"Of course, David. Thanks."

"And listen, man. You've got to keep your head. Don't drive yourself crazy, don't do anything stupid. Be careful and smart, all right?"

We agreed we'd talk again in a couple of days, and got off the phone.

****************

I didn't sleep much that night, not surprisingly. I got up to check my email about five times, hoping against hope I'd hear from Tommie--or anybody.

The next afternoon, after calling Tommie's and Damon's cell phones again and leaving two more messages, I dragged myself to the supermarket--we were pretty much out of food and I knew I'd have to eat, even though I didn't have much interest in it.

I was waiting at a red light when I glanced at the driver in the car next to me--and Jesus Christ, it was Don fucking Harrington! He didn't notice me, and he probably wouldn't have recognized me anyway; we'd only met a couple of times.

Without hesitation I followed him, all the way across town, and watched as he parked in the lot of a bar named "Divine" and went inside. What do I do now, I thought--wait until he comes out and beat the shit out of him?

No, I said to myself, I can't. David's right: don't do anything crazy. If I land in jail it will only make things worse.

After half an hour of just sitting there I decided to go in and talk to him. I'd be calm but persistent.

Just inside the doorway of the bar I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. Finally I saw Harrington, sitting in a booth partway back with another man--a boyish-looking guy in leather pants and a muscle shirt. I gazed around the place and realized I was in what had to be a gay bar.

Okay, I said to myself--polite, be polite. And calm. I went over to Harrington's both and quietly said, "excuse me--you're Don Harrington, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said, looking up without recognition. I said, "I'm Jack Hitchcock--Tommie's husband."

His eyes widened and he kind of shrank back away from me, almost involuntarily, though he was considerably bigger than I was. His companion looked at him in alarm and said, "what is it, baby? You want me to have them throw this guy out of here?"

I quickly said, "I'm just here to talk. I don't want any trouble. Can we speak for a minute or two?"

Harrington nodded, looking unhappy, and I pulled a chair up to the booth and sat down.

"I know what you want to know," he said right away, "and I'm really sorry. REALLY sorry. But it wasn't me at all, it was Ebberson. It was all a set up.

"I'm not even--" he gestured across the booth to his companion and said, "I'm gay. And I'm with Adrian."

I nodded. "Okay. So can you tell me about it?"

"Ebberson fucks all his PAs, or at least he did the whole time I was at Grand Valley. Most of them are pretty easy, but I could see as soon as I met Tommie that she was different. But Ebberson was obsessed with her; I think he'd seen her before, maybe at her previous job, and he was determined to have her.

"He twisted my arm to put something in her drink to make her sleepy, so that he could swoop in and rescue her, make her think she could trust him. I didn't much want to do it, but he didn't give me a lot of choice."

"But--but didn't it cost you your job? Your whole career at Grand Valley? Why would you ever agree to it?"

He sighed. "I was offered a job in New York that Damon had recommended me for--a real good career move for me. I was getting ready to announce my resignation to the rest of the staff. And then he came up with this fucked-up plan; he said if I didn't go along he'd call the people in New York and make some shit up so they'd cancel the job offer.

"I've seen Damon do things like that before--I had no doubt that he'd do it. So I went along with it. Damon said he'd have to fire me publicly, and humiliate me--but he'd give me a $50,000 bonus. And I'd be moving to New York anyway, so it wouldn't really matter.

"I'm only back this weekend to see Adrian--he can't join me in NY for a few more weeks until one of his projects is finished."

The whole time Adrian is holding Don's hand across the table and nodding sympathetically--you poor baby. Like he's the one who's had to suffer.

"You know you--" I sat back. "Fuck. You realize that you played a big part in the destruction of my marriage. Tommie's vanished, and I assume she's off somewhere with Damon."

"I'm ... I'm really sorry. It was a shitty thing to do. I was afraid I'd lose my job in New York."

"And you couldn't have told her? Or me? Just quietly gotten in touch and let us know afterwards what was really going on?"

He looked at the table. "I know. You're right.

"I'm really sorry."

There was nothing more to be said. I sat there, staring at him--and then I got up and walked out.

****************

I immediately raced home and emailed David. "It was her boss, Damon Ebberson, who was behind all of this, so he could screw Tommie. The drugging by her former co-worker was a set-up, planned so Damon could rescue her and make her trust him.

"So she's probably with him now. His wife doesn't know where he went: she told me he'd be away a couple of weeks, and that he was headed to the West coast. She thought."

He emailed me back two hours later. "I'm on it. The additional information helps. Sit tight, don't freak out. I'll let you know if I find anything out."

****************

Sitting tight was easier than not freaking out. I talked to Katie and Eric every day, but they'd heard nothing from Tommie, and Alice had nothing to report. I had dinner with them on Sunday and Monday--anything was better than just roaming around my empty house, beside myself with worry and rage. 

And I kept calling Damon and Tommie, though they never answered their phones, and sending email messages to Tommie.

I had a thousand fantasies about what I was going to do to Damon, most of them filled with satisfyingly violent details. But I also cried when I thought of Tommie and what she might be doing with him--and how she'd feel when she found out it was all a hoax.

When I woke up Tuesday morning I found an email from my brother, sent in the middle of the night. "She's okay--she's in Fiji with Damon. I don't know much more. I'm working on getting her out of there and back home. I'll be in touch."

This made me more frantic, but I knew that if David knew anything else he would have told me. So I just replied "thanks--please let me know when you find out anything else."

On Wednesday afternoon another email from David reached me at work. I'd been going through the motions, because it was better than sitting at home tearing my hair out, but I wasn't much use to Minestra. And I'd kept my situation secret--no one knew about it besides Katie and Eric.

"She's okay. Coming back to Indianapolis later today, staying in Grand Valley's suite at the Conrad Hotel. DO NOT go there or call her. I'll call you tonight at 10 pm your time."

Jesus fucking Christ, how could I not call her or go see her? If anybody in the entire world besides David had told me that I would have ignored it completely. But I trusted him--so I fretted and chewed a pencil and tried to work, and went home and made myself dinner; and at 10 pm the phone rang.

"Yes?"

"Jack, it's me. She's okay. She's back in Indianapolis."

"Jesus! Thank God, David--how is she? What happened?"

"I only have a minute, I've got to get on a plane. There will be a DVD in your mailbox by 6 am tomorrow morning. When you play that you'll have the whole story. Tommie will be getting a copy too. Give her maybe until noon, then you can go over there--but she's going to be really upset. REALLY upset. Maybe take her friend Katie with you, if you can."

"Oh my God, is she hurt?"

"No she's not hurt, but it appears she slept with him. Once, anyway. He got her really drunk, and filled her head with lies."

I didn't know what to say. She was safe--she was okay--she was back. But she'd been fucked--by that lying, scheming piece of shit.

"Are you all right, Jack? You've got to hang in there."

"Yes ... yeah, I'm okay. Relieved, mostly. And furious. Thanks, David--I don't begin to know how to thank you."

"Just keep yourself under control, and be patient with her, okay? I gotta run. Call me after you've seen the DVD."

****************

Could you have slept that night, if you'd been me? No fucking way. I wanted to call Katie, but I didn't know how to tell her what I knew and keep David out of it, so I decided to wait.

I watched four old movies back-to-back, and I couldn't tell you what any of them was about. At 5:30 am I checked my mailbox for the sixth time and found a DVD in an envelope, unlabeled. I took it and ran back inside the house.

I put the DVD into the player and sat back. Abruptly a room appeared: what looked like a small basement or storeroom, with gray walls and no windows. In the center of the scene, against the far wall, Damon Ebberson sat strapped to a chair, naked and unconscious. There was nothing else in the room except a small rickety table with an animal cage on it.

Unexpectedly an extremely tall man dressed all in black and wearing a Darth Vader mask appeared from one side, out of the camera's view. He walked toward Damon holding a bucket of water and poured it over his head. Damon sputtered, shook his head, and seemed to wake up. Startled, he jerked his arms and legs, quickly realizing he was unable to move.

"What the hell? What are you--" He stopped suddenly as he looked up at the man before him.

"Glad you're awake, Damon," the man in the mask said in a deep voice. It sounded electronically altered. "Now we can begin."

"What the hell is going on here?" Damon blustered. "Do you know who I am? One phone call and I can--"

The tall man reached down and slapped Damon hard across the face, almost casually. He was wearing thick work gloves that extended nearly to his elbows. "Be silent," he said. "I want you to see something."

He pulled the table closer to Damon and moved the cage so it was right in front of him. The cage contained a brown mouse. The tall man took a small vial from his pocket. Very carefully he removed the top, which contained an eyedropper, drew some of the liquid into the dropper, and dropped a single drop of clear liquid onto the skin of the mouse's back. The mouse seemed unaffected.

"Watch now," he said. "It will happen in about three minutes."

Damon looked worried, but he wouldn't give up. "Listen. I don't know what this is about, but I'm a very rich man. I'm sure we can--"

"Do you want me to hit you again?" the tall man asked. "I can keep hitting you if you like. Or you can be silent."

Damon shook his head and stopped speaking. The two men waited in silence for at least another two minutes.

Suddenly the mouse emitted a terrifying shriek, one signaling intense and unbearable pain. It fell over and its body convulsed spastically, while the mouse continued to shriek and wail in obvious agony. The terrible sounds lasted nearly a minute--then the mouse fell silent, too weak to continue, though it lay on its side panting, still twitching in violent pain. After another 30 seconds it was completely still.

Damon's eyes had widened, and he'd reflexively pushed his chair back against the wall, as far from the table as he could get. He stared at the dead mouse, then up at the tall man.

"Now we will talk," the tall man said. "You've seen what that liquid can do. For you it would probably take several drops on your skin, and it might take up to 5 minutes to have its effect, but the result would be just the same."

Damon was pale and sweaty, leaning back in the chair away from the tall man. He shuddered and said, "what do you want? I have a lot of money. I can--"

"I don't want your money!" the tall man snapped. He pulled another chair over in front of Damon and sat down. "I know all about you and Tommie Parker. How you lied to her, how you arranged to have your toady Don Harrington drug her, how you kept sending women after her husband. All of this so you could get her into your own bed, you scumbag.

"Now here are your choices. Choice 1: you smile into the camera and tell the whole story. Every bit of it, every loathsome detail. You leave out nothing, do you understand? I already know nearly all of it, so it would be quite unwise to omit anything or we might have to move to Choice 2.

"Choice 2 is what the mouse got."

Unwillingly Damon's eyes flicked to the mouse lying dead in its cage, and then back to the mask of the tall man. He was trembling, breathing fast out of his mouth.

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you all of it. Only don't ... promise you won't ...."

There was a silence, as Damon looked at the tall man beseechingly.

"Tell the story."

Damon took a deep breath. "I ... I wanted her. That's all, really. She's about the sexiest woman I've ever seen in my life--have you seen her?

"If you have, then you know what I mean. I saw her once at Minestra Business Systems, where she used to work, and I knew I absolutely had to fu--, uh, to have sex with her.

"And then about a month later I was amazed to get her resume from an employment service that works for me--she was looking for a new job. So I arranged for her to be interviewed for a job as my personal assistant. When she came for the interview I could see right away she was a straight arrow, totally faithful to her husband. So I knew it would take some planning.

"I could tell she'd been hit on a lot--how could she not be, looking like that? So I took my time and worked out different ways to earn her trust, and to undermine her relationship with her husband."

Damon was talking rapidly, fluently. He didn't even seem terrified any more, just intent on telling his story as completely as possible.

"The PA job meant Tommie would have to travel with me from time to time. She was worried about that, so I assured her it was all on the up-and-up, she could trust me, and her husband could even come on the trips and share her room if he wanted to.

"So they did that several times, and then I started scheduling some of my trips for times he couldn't come."

"How did you know her husband's schedule?" the man in the mask asked.

"I paid off somebody at Minestra, a guy named Daniel who worked for the vice president overseeing Jack's division--Jack is Tommie's husband. Daniel would let me know what Jack's work schedule was like, especially when he needed to go out of town or when he was working on a big project with a deadline.

"And I had my tech guys hack into Tommie's email account--I saw every message back and forth between her and Jack. I could plan my business trips pretty much whenever I wanted, so I arranged some of them when Jack couldn't come along."

Damon paused for a moment and sneaked a glance back at the dead mouse, perhaps reminding himself what was at stake.

"Anyway, I knew I had to get Tommie to trust me, to see me as a good guy. And she was very suspicious. So on one of the trips when one of my vice presidents was along, I arranged for him to have dinner alone with Tommie in the hotel restaurant and put roofies in her water glass. Then when she got very woozy, he started to guide her towards the elevator and I just 'happened' to come along, catch him in the act of apparently taking her upstairs to rape her, and stop him.

"She fell for the whole thing. I yelled at Don, he ran out of the hotel, and I got a taxi and took Tommie to the hospital. They admitted her, and I made sure to be at her bedside when she woke up.

"I told Tommie what had happened and she was furious at Don but ridiculously grateful to me. She told me what a great friend I was."




The Blonde Ch. 03



"What happened to the vice president?"

"Oh, I made a big production of going back home and firing him, telling him publicly he'd never get a recommendation from me, humiliating him in front of everyone. It was all a set-up. He already had a better job lined-up at a firm in New York--he's a senior vice president there, making a lot more than I paid him. But no one back in Indianapolis knows anything about it.

"Anyway, after that Tommie saw me as a friend--she trusted me and she didn't have her guard up so much. And I'd been working on her husband Jack the whole time--first I got some suspicious-looking pictures of him and a couple of women, in different bars and restaurants while Tommie and I were out of town.

"In one bar this woman fell all over him, hugging him and kissing him like he was her boyfriend. Jack got away from her but my photographer got 3-4 shots that looked kind of bad, like he was embracing her.

"I made sure Tommie saw the pictures. I went to talk to her, all concerned, and said that I heard some rumors that her husband might be stepping out, so I'd arranged to have him tailed and my photographer had come up with these pictures.

"And then I set him up to get caught in bed with another woman."

"How?"

"It was pretty complicated, actually." Damon started to smile for a moment, then remembered the situation he was in. "Through Daniel from Minestra I set up a phony meeting in Chicago with a potential client, and designed the account so that the company would send Jack as their representative.

"Then when Jack got to Chicago, the 'client' he met with was a plant--a very upscale escort I'd hired. She faked her way through the business meeting, then insisted on taking Jack out to dinner.

"At dinner she had to spike Jack's coffee, since he wasn't drinking any alcohol. He got woozy and the hooker took him upstairs to bed. She was supposed to fuck him so a couple of cameras in his room could get it on film, and I would show it to Tommie. But the drugs put him totally to sleep; so she went to Plan B. She stripped herself and him, and made things look like they'd been fucking all night.

"When Jack woke up the next morning she was cooing and playing with his dick and saying, 'oh baby, you were fantastic--I want some more this morning.' And she was going to fuck him then. Better late than never."

"Did Jack fall for it?"

Damon frowned. "No, actually, he didn't. He went crazy, threw the girl out of the hotel room and immediately called for the hotel doctor. When the doctor came Jack made him test him for drugs. Then he flew home and told Tommie the whole crazy story, and four days later when the drug test results came in he could prove to her that he'd been given some kind of crazy barbiturate cocktail that knocked him out.

"That might have fucked up my entire plan, since I didn't get any film out of it that I could use. But I knew all about what was going on, because I could see all her email messages. So any time Jack told Tommie something reassuring, I could speak to her and casually offer a different interpretation, one that made Jack look like a lying cheat.

"With this one, I waited for her to tell me the whole story: how Jack had woke up in bed with a woman, but he swore he'd been drugged, and how he had a drug test to prove it. Then I frowned and pretended to look thoughtful, and said, 'something about that seems fishy, Tommie--let me see what I can find out.'

"And two days later I talked to her, all hesitant and sad. I told her that I'd hired a PI firm in Chicago to do some checking. They found out that the doctor was an old college buddy of Jack's; and the lab that supposedly had done the drug testing didn't actually exist. It must have been all faked, I said, with Jack's friend helping him make up a complicated lie so Tommie wouldn't think he'd actually cheated.

"Even then she didn't believe me--not all the way. So I gave her the PI's report I'd had done--it was very convincing, on fancy letterhead and full of details about what happened, interviews with the woman and the hotel staff.

"That did it. She dissolved in tears, furiously cursed her husband, let me console her like a true friend with an arm around her. I told her she had to break with him completely, no giving him another chance to make up some lying story.

"So I took her home to pack some stuff and then away to Fiji for a week--just to get away from it all, I said, give her some time to sort things out. My wife and I have a house on the beach there, very private.

"I knew I could get in her pants, but even as upset as she was it took me four days. I walked with her on the beach, we had long talks, she cried and vented and told me she'd never ever trust a man again. And I was the perfect friend, the shoulder to cry on, the guy she didn't have to worry about."

He stopped, perhaps wondering if that was enough.

"And the sex?" the tall man said. "Tell me about that--not the details, just the bare outline."

Damon looked uneasy again. "Well, I ... each night I saw to it that we had a lot to drink at dinner, and each time she got very emotional. So the first three nights I was a complete gentleman, just listened to her cry and rage, then escorted her to her room and left her.

"The fourth night I pushed harder, made sure that all of her drinks were doubles. And I kept carefully working the conversation around to revenge, to the need for Tommie not to take what her asshole husband had done lying down.

"I'm pretty good at this--I've been seducing women for a long time. By the time we got upstairs she was pretty sure that inviting me into her room was HER idea. So we fucked a couple of times and then fell asleep. It wasn't so great, because she was really drunk--and to tell the truth she pretty much cried all through it, about Jack and how she couldn't believe he would do that to her.

"But she has an amazing body, and I didn't care that the sex wasn't so good--I was sure it would get better when she calmed down in a couple of days.

"So I thought I was in like Flynn, but the next morning she was all weepy again, said that even though her marriage was over she hadn't wanted to do this, and she asked me to leave. And I didn't push her, I figured I'd give her a day or so to get over feeling remorseful before I tried to get back in her pants again.

"And that afternoon I took a nap before dinner, and the next thing I know I'm tied to this chair." He thought a few moments more and said, "that's it, really--that's the whole entire story. Anything else you need me to tell you, just ask."

The tall man stood silently, apparently gazing at Damon though you couldn't really tell because of his mask.

"Have you done this before?"

"Well, I ... no, nothing like this." Damon licked his lips nervously. "I mean, I fucked a lot of women I've hired, my Personal Assistants. That was why I hired them, mainly.

"But nothing like this, no screwing around with their husbands. I never needed to. Putting a few moves on 'em, offering fancy vacations, that's all I ever had to do with the other ones."

"Are you sorry for what you did? Ruining Tommie and Jack's marriage, putting them both through hell, just because you wanted to fuck her?"

Damon looked truly startled, as though the thought had never before crossed his mind. After a moment he pulled himself together and said, "uh, sure. Of course! I realize now, it was a terrible thing to do. Awful."

He looked up expectantly but the tall man made no reply. Damon looked uneasy, and he said, "I ... I ... obviously I have to make it up to her somehow. And I will. Of course.

"Yeah, I'll talk to her as soon as I get out of here--I'll tell her the whole story, and beg her forgiveness. And I'll give her and Jack a lot of money, I don't know, several million, so they'll never have to work again. That'll be--"

"Shut up," the tall man said. He went out of the picture for a moment and returned carrying a laptop computer.

"I'm going to log onto your email for you and send a message," he said. He worked on the computer for a minute and then said, "what's your password?"

Damon looked unhappy, but he hesitated for only a moment. "Studman22," he said.

The tall man entered it, waited, then typed a few sentences, pressed a couple more keys, and closed the laptop.

He stood up and towered over Damon, gazing down at him. Then he said, "I was never here. You were never here. You've never seen this room in your life."

"Got it--sure--I understand," said Damon, nodding vigorously.

"And you'll never contact Tommie or Jack again, nor will anyone you know or anyone who works for you."

"Yes, absolutely. Of course."

"If you happen to hear from Tommie--only if SHE contacts YOU--then you will respond. You will give her anything she might ask for: the truth, or money, or a recommendation for a new job. Anything. If she asks you for twin solid-gold Ferrari convertibles, they'll be in her driveway in a week, do you understand?

"Because I found you once--and I'll find you again. Is that perfectly clear?"

"Yes--I understand completely." Damon nodded his head rapidly, eager to show his agreement.

The tall man looked at Damon--then he nodded, apparently to himself. He removed the vial from his pocket again, filled the dropper from it, and stepped over to Damon.

"I've changed my mind--let's make it Choice 2," he said.

Damon started to struggle as soon as he saw what the tall man was doing. "Wait, no, I told you, I did everything you--"

"Doesn't matter, Damon. You're a dog. A beast. A total piece of shit. And you deserve to die like one."

"No, no, please, I can--anything, I can pay you--" Damon's voice rose to a shriek as he twisted desperately in his chair, trying to free himself.

Ignoring his captive's struggles, the tall man squeezed the dropper and let a dozen drops land on Damon's bare chest, Damon yelping and twisting violently in a vain attempt to avoid letting the liquid touch him.

"Please, no!" he screamed, "I'll do anything--please!!" Damon continued to contort his body violently, absolute terror showing on his face. He spit several times onto his chest, hoping to douse the liquid from the vial, then shook his body as he tried frantically to get it off his skin.

Without paying any attention to Damon's gyrations and pleading, the tall man carefully closed the vial and returned it to his pocket. Then he picked up the animal cage and laptop and walked towards the camera that had recorded the entire scene. He reached his arm towards the image and the screen suddenly went black.

****************

I sat there for a long time, staring at the dark screen without seeing it. Thinking it all through, noticing how what I'd just heard from Damon put so many of the mysterious pieces together. Above all, the way Tommie and I would be okay, and then later or the next day she'd come home from work upset and distant.

It was nearly 7:00 am. I picked up the phone and called David.

"Yes?" He seemed half-asleep.

"It's me--sorry to wake you. I just watched it."

"I'm awake, it's okay." He yawned.

"Jesus, David. Is he dead? And was that you?"

David chuckled. "No and no. I'm on the other side of the world right now. It was a ... colleague, who was not too far from Fiji and had the time to do a big favor for me. And no, he didn't kill Ebberson. I haven't seen the DVD, but I imagine he took along two vials and did a switcheroo. He did kill the mouse, but Ebberson just got some water. My colleague seems to have felt that he deserved a few minutes of total terror, as partial punishment for what he did."

"My God..." I thought some more. "How on earth did you find them? And kidnap Damon and everything?"

"Those are questions I'm not going to answer, little brother. No offense."

"Of course--none taken. But can you tell me how Tommie got back, and what's up with her?"

"My colleague sent her an email from Ebberson's account. It said something like 'sorry, an emergency came up and I had to run out. Please book yourself a first-class flight back to Indianapolis and check in to Grand Valley's suite at the Conrad. I'll be in touch in a few days.'

"The DVD will be delivered to her door around 9:00 this morning. That's why I want you to wait until noon to go see her--and take Katie along if you can."

"Okay," I said. My head was whirling. "David, how can I ever--"

"Forget it," he said. "Take care of Tommie, all right? None of this was her fault. I'll come see you, maybe in a couple of weeks."

I hung up and called the Conrad. "Uh, good morning--could you tell me whether a Ms. Tommie Hitchcock has checked into the Grand Valley suite?"

"Just a moment ... yes she has, shall I connect you?"

"No thanks, it's a bit early. I'll call again later, thank you."

Thank God thank God. I sat a few minutes, then called Katie.

"Katie, it's Jack. Tommie's back, she's staying at the Conrad. I haven't talked to her yet but I'm going to go over around noon. Is there any way you could come with me?

Katie started to cry. "Ohmygod, Jack, that's ... I'm so relieved! Hang on a minute ... " I could hear her blowing her nose. "Sorry, I just burst into tears, I've been so worried! Do you want to go over right now?"

"No, it's ... a little complicated, and I think waiting until noon is better."

"Okay--do you want to pick me up at work at 11:30? My God, Jack, how do you know she's there if you haven't talked to her?"

"I got an email, and then I called the hotel to confirm that she'd checked in. Look, it's a long story...how about if I tell you later?"

I got off the phone and found myself weeping. From relief? Despair? Exhaustion? It didn't really matter. I made some coffee, had a long hot shower, tried to make myself eat some eggs and toast. I couldn't turn off my thoughts, couldn't make my mind go less than 100 mph. No surprise there, I guess.

****************

When I picked up Katie she was full of questions, asking them all at virtually the same time. I had tried to think through what to tell her and what to hold back.

"Hang on, hang on, Katie--I'll tell you what I know." I paused.

"Tommie's boss Damon Ebberson is behind everything that's been going on. He wanted to ... to sleep with her, that's what this is all about. And he finally convinced her once and for all that I'd been cheating--so last Friday he whisked her away to Fiji with him. He's got a house there.

"And ... and I'm pretty sure he had sex with her. But someone ... I don't know who, intervened and got her back here. And by now she's probably seen a DVD, the same one that was sent to me, that makes clear what Damon was doing."

Katie was staring at me aghast, her mouth hanging open.

"Oh ... my God," she said slowly. "Jack, I'm ... God, you must be going crazy!"

"Yeah, well, it's been a pretty rotten week. A rotten six months, now that I think about it. But at least she's back now."

"Was she ... I mean, did you have to watch her ..."

"Oh no, nothing like that. It's a DVD of Damon confessing what he did; how he worked on her all these months, how he set me up to be photographed or filmed with other women, all the lies he's been telling her."

"My God my God." She closed her eyes for a minute. "I can't begin to imagine what Tommie is going through right now--or you either, Jack! How are you holding it together?"

I laughed. "I'm not sure I am. But I think it makes sense for you to go in to see Tommie first. I don't know if she'll be angry, or suicidal, or ... I don't know, mad at me for somehow having let this happen."

We walked into the Conrad; Katie went straight to the front desk and asked them to call the Grand Valley suite. She spoke briefly into the phone, then came over to me. "She sounded awful, Jack--but she told me to come up."

"Thanks Katie. I'm going to wait down here until you think she's ready to see me--just call my cell."

****************

It was a long half-hour. I was sleep-deprived, angry, frightened for me and Tommie, and full of regrets. If only ... if only we'd seen what that bastard was up to, if only Tommie had been more honest with me about her suspicions, if ... if.

My phone finally rang. "Jack, come on up. Suite 1501."

"Is she all right?" I asked urgently, but Katie only replied, "just come up, okay?"

When I knocked on the door Katie let me in. Tommie sat on a couch across the room looking at me with a neutral expression on her face. She looked utterly exhausted and drained--my beautiful wife, but without any of her usual energy and warmth.

"Tommie--are you all right?" I walked towards her but slowly, as if afraid she'd run from me.

"I'm ... I'm ok, Jack," she said quietly. "Angry, sad, ashamed ... afraid. I don't know what I am, actually."

I reached her and took her by the hands, pulling her gently to her feet and into my arms. She hugged me back mechanically, without feeling, as I held her tightly to me.

"Thank God, thank God you're here," I whispered, and she pulled back, looking into my eyes doubtfully.

"You really mean that? You still want to be with me, after...?" She shuddered and looked away from me. "After what I did?"

I kissed her forehead. "You didn't do anything. It was what HE did. And it's over now."

"Don't say that, Jack!" She pulled away from me and walked to the other side of the room. "Don't say I didn't do anything. You don't ...." Her voice trailed off.

I glanced at Katie, who was watching us unhappily. "How about we get Tommie's things and get out of here?" I said.

Katie nodded. "Tommie, c'mon, I'll help you pack up." She took Tommie's hand and led her into the bedroom, while I slumped down on the couch to wait. I don't know what I'd expected out of this reunion, but this was certainly far less than I'd hoped for.

****************

We dropped Katie back at work, after she promised to check in with us again that evening, and drove home largely in silence. Tommie gazed steadily out the window and responded to all my attempts at conversation with one or two-word answers.

I carried the suitcases to the door and unlocked it for Tommie. As we went inside I said, "have you eaten, honey? How about if I make us some lunch, and we can talk?"

"Lunch sounds good, thanks," she said, and sat down wearily at the kitchen table. "I haven't had much sleep in the last 36 hours, Jack--do you mind if I just sit here?"

I smiled and kissed her cheek. "No, it'll be a pleasure to wait on you, ma'am."

I quickly pulled together a couple of sandwiches and we ate in silence. I smiled at Tommie but she couldn't muster up much of a response. When we were done I took her hand and led us towards the living room, sitting with her on the couch. I wanted to put my arm around her, but instead left a couple of feet between us.

"I'm so glad you're back," I said. "And I guess we have a lot to talk about."

She regarded me expressionlessly. Then, to my shock, she stood up and said, "I know, Jack--but I'm just not ready for that yet. I'm going to go lie down for a while, okay?" And without waiting for my reply she started towards the bedroom.

"No. No, goddammit that's not okay." I stood up too, and faced her, my eyes suddenly full of tears. She turned around and looked at me, startled.

"I know you're tired, Tommie, I know you've been through a horrible ordeal, but--"

I was crying now. "--but it's been a nightmare for me too, you just disappearing like that, with that note...

"And now that you're back and the one thing I need most in the world is to reconnect with you, to start getting past everything that's happened, you ... you push me away--because you're 'not ready for that yet.'

"Well, fine!" I sobbed. "The hell with it! You can let me know when you ARE ready!"

I pulled the car keys out of my pocket and headed for the front door, crying hard. I had no idea where I was going--I just knew I needed to get out of there.




The Blonde Ch. 03



"No! Jack, no, wait!" I heard her voice behind me as I hurried down the path to my car, but I didn't stop. I heard her running footsteps and her voice again: "please! Jack!"

As I opened the car door she grabbed me from behind, tightly, pressing her whole body up against me. "No honey, please don't go! I'm sorry, you're right, I'm sorry!"

She was crying too. I turned around and she clung to me, sobbing, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

I let her pull me back towards the house, holding my arm tightly in her two hands, still apologizing tearfully.

"It's just all been ... so awful, I've been so ashamed, and angry--and afraid of what you'd say to me, whether you'd even speak to me--"

I interrupted her with a kiss, saying, "shh, I'm not angry."

"You're ... you mean you're not going to throw me out?"

I stared at her, shocked. "No, of course not! I love you, Tommie. This wasn't your fault!"

She stared into my eyes, as if she didn't believe what I was saying. Then she said quietly, "You don't know what I did, Jack. I let him fuck me. That bastard--Damon. He fed me lies and got me drunk, and I let him fuck me."

"I already know, honey," I said. "It's not your fault. I saw the DVD too." Her eyes grew wide, and then she started crying again.

"I'm so sorry, Jack..."

I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, lying down next to her on the bed, rolling her into my arms, holding her, soothing her... I hoped she'd sleep, and we'd both be calmer in a few hours.

But Tommie just cried and cried, inconsolable; and then suddenly she opened her eyes and kissed me, hard. "Make love to me, Jack--please!"

She started tearing off my clothes, and within a minute or two we were both naked and she was pulling me on top of her and inside her, groaning, and humping up at me frantically, kissing me, pulling me to her as hard as she could, all the while saying, "please love me, baby, please," over and over.

It was more desperate and intense than it was pleasurable--but it was what she needed. When I felt myself begin to get close I tried to slow down but she said, "no! come in me! I need you to come in me!" thrusting at me harder, and moments later I ejaculated hard into her, shuddering, while she clutched me tight, saying, "yes, baby, yes Jack, thank God!"

After that we lay quietly together, relaxing, kissing each other on the lips and cheeks and eyes, gently; and fell asleep in each other's arms. "Thank God, thank God" is what I was thinking as I drifted off.

****************

When my eyes fluttered open, I reached for Tommie but she was no longer in bed. I listened hard, preparing to get up and find her, and heard her footsteps coming back down the hall. She came into the room and smiled at me, holding a tray. She'd put on my boxer shorts and a tee shirt.

"A little something to keep your strength up." She put it down on the bed between us and sat across from me. She'd made grilled-cheese sandwiches and a couple of bowls of tomato soup.

" 'Comfort food,' my mom used to call it. This is what she gave me and Alice when we were sick, or were having a bad day. I think that the last week qualifies, don't you?"

I leaned over and gave her a kiss. "Yeah, but it's over now. You're back, I'm here with you--it's just over."

After we'd eaten we moved the tray and lay down together, Tommie nestled in my arm, and we talked. Very carefully at first, just in bits and pieces about what had happened.

I didn't learn much that I didn't already know, but Tommie described how Damon gradually and systematically undermined her trust in me.

"He was such an actor, Jack. He'd listen to me tell him what was going on, or what you said, and then he'd nod and say, 'that sounds reasonable ... I guess.' And then he get this doubtful look on his face, and I'd say 'what?' and he'd look reluctant, and say 'no, it's nothing, I don't want to worry you.'

"And of course that only made me push him harder, and he'd tell me that Daniel Hattman at Minestra was a friend of his, and had mentioned that you seemed to be quite the ladies' man. Or that your explanation of that woman kissing you in the bar was, 'I don't know, Tommie, maybe a bit TOO convenient?'

"Crap like that--he never failed to get me worried, and to undo all the reasonable explanations you'd given me the night before. Once I learned he'd been reading my emails, it made a lot more sense--he always had time to prepare."

I told Tommie about everything I'd done since she disappeared: my calls to Katie and Eric, contacting David and all the help he'd been, spotting Don Harrington and getting the real story out of him.

"After that I finally realized who'd been doing all this to us. I called David and he did the rest. It was some 'colleague' of his who kidnapped Damon and made that recording."

Tommie nodded. "When I thought about it I realized it had to have something to do with David. He doesn't work for IBM, does he?"

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't, but he's never told me anything about who he really does work for, and I've never asked. We really owe him a lot."

We were silent for a while. 

Then I said, "can I ask? About coming back to Indianapolis, and how ... how it was, to see the DVD?"

Tommie sat up and propped herself up with a pillow against the headboard. She looked away from me, out the window.

"I got to the Conrad and went straight to sleep. I was exhausted from the flight and just emotionally torn-up. Your betrayal, 4-5 days alone with Damon, having slept with him ... I just felt empty. I had no idea what I was going to do next.

"And then in the morning there was a knock on the door, and when I looked through the peephole there was no one. I opened it carefully, with the chain on, and saw an envelope marked 'Tommie.' Inside was the DVD, with a note that said 'WATCH THIS IF YOU WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH.'

"It almost killed me, Jack. I had to stop it and cry about five times before I could even get through all of it."

Her tone hardened. "That BASTARD! That absolute shit!"

She turned to me. "He's dead now, isn't he?"

I shook my head. "David says No--the guy just dripped water on him, to give him a few miserable minutes of terror.

"We're going to have to figure out what to do about him."

"I've got a few ideas," she says. She was looking away from me again. "Most of them painful."

"When I realized what he'd done to me, to us--when I realized that he'd done all of that just to, to fuck me--and that I'd let him--

"I wanted to jump out the window. I actually sat and thought about it. I couldn't imagine that you'd ever take me back, after ... and I didn't see any reason why I should keep living."

She swung around to face me, giving me a wry smile. "I might have done it, you know? I sat there for a long time and thought, 'well, there's no hurry, I can spend the day here, get some food from room service, maybe I'll do it tonight. Jumping in the dark would be easier, not so scary...' "

She shuddered. "Thank God you and Katie came over. And thank God you sent her up first, Jack--I couldn't have faced you. I mean it. It took everything she had to convince me to let you come up."

"I was never mad at you, Tommie." I hugged her gently, kissing her forehead and her cheek.

"I was terrified, frantic, worried--and then when I saw the DVD I was furious at that asshole, of course, but mainly I was just sad. Sad at what he'd put you through--both of us, but especially you. And afraid of all the pain you'd be in."

She turned to look directly into my face. "I don't get it. How can you not be angry at me? Why don't you want to call me a cheating cunt--why don't you yell at me for not trusting you, for believing a scumbag like Damon instead of you?"

"Because you were tricked," I said. "And I was too. We both bought his 'good friend' act, that's all. We were wary, but not wary enough.

"Listen, Tommie, there's nothing I blame you for." My voice was firm. "And nothing you should blame yourself for." I stood up and reached for her hand. "Come with me, okay?"

I led her into the bathroom and she followed me, looking curious. I got the water running in our big stall shower, then gently took her tee shirt and shorts off and guided us both underneath the warm spray.

I held her there, holding her gently as the water warmed and soothed us, and then I got the soap and began to wash her. Gently and slowly I did every inch of her: her fingers and hands, then her arms and shoulders, her back and her breasts; then I got on my knees and did each of her feet and legs in turn, Tommie resting her hands on my back for balance. Then I carefully but thoroughly washed her mound of golden pubic hair, her pussy and her ass, holding one of her legs up and to the side so I could reach every spot.

All this time Tommie was passive and quiet, her eyes closed, letting me move her as I needed to. When I was done with her body I got the shampoo and washed her hair, giving her a loving scalp massage before I was done. Last thing of all I got a little more soap and washed her face gently with my fingers, tracing across her lips, her nose, even her eyelids.

Finally I was done. I took her in my arms again, her head resting on my shoulder.

"He's gone now," I said, "completely gone. It's like he never touched you--every trace of him is gone forever. You're clean again."

She looked up at me and kissed me, and then she started to cry; and I held her under the water as she sobbed and trembled, and I soothed her with my hands for a long time until she was calm again.

She stepped back and smiled at me and said, "and now I'm going to wash you too--but faster, before all the hot water is gone! And then I want you to take me back to bed and let me sleep in your arms for about 14 hours. And when we wake up, all this--this SHIT will be in the past."

So she washed me, and we dried off, and I turned the ringer off the phone. And we slept.

****************

We were sitting on the back deck with Katie and Eric. They'd brought over some deli sandwiches and I'd gotten us all some beers.

"I'm so glad you called!" Katie said. "When you didn't answer the phone last night, I thought ... well, I figured probably you just wanted some privacy." She grinned.

"But I'm happy you're ... shit, Tommie, I'm just happy you're back."

Eric said pretty much the same thing, and we thanked them. Tommie said, "listen, we really wanted to see you, just hang out and, I don't know, have a normal day, okay? I mean, you must have a million questions but Jack and I just want to put all that stuff aside for a little while."

Eric and Katie said of course, we understand. And then there was an odd little silence, and Tommie smiled and said, "sooo ... what've you guys been up to lately?"

And we all cracked up. We laughed for a while, and then we brought our beer bottles together in a silent toast, and smiled. And somehow found our way into a nice conversation about other things.

****************

On Monday I went back in to work. Tommie was never going back to Grand Valley, of course; we'd decided to take a little time before making up our minds what we were going to do about Damon. Tommie sent him an email that said:

"Have all my things carefully packed up and sent to me--don't contact me in any way--I'll be in touch. Darth Vader says hello."

With a grim smile she said to me, "that'll keep him worried!"

And then in a completely different voice, she said, "I'm so sorry Jack. I'm so sorry I didn't trust you."

I gathered her up in my arms and we sat together, quietly. Nothing else to say.

She spent that first couple of weeks at home, enjoying the quiet and the feeling of getting all the way back into our domestic life. She made a beautiful dinner for us every night, and we sat and talked in the evenings or just watched TV--happy to be together.

Both of us felt that we ought to see a counselor, to work through everything and completely put it behind us.

Tommie said, "but I think it ought to be a woman," at the exact moment I said, "it has to be a woman." We looked at each other in surprise and broke into laughter.

"You first," I said, still chuckling. "Why do you think so?"

"Because I guess I feel like I'd trust a woman to understand better what it's like to be me--being hit on all the time, and finding it so hard to trust men. Why did you say it should be a woman?"

"Almost the same reason, I guess," I said. "Any male counselor is going to find you very attractive, and it will be distracting. I want whoever we work with to be thinking about helping you--and me--and not thinking about how he can understand how that bastard Damon could have desired you so much."

I talked to Irene in Human Resources at Minestra and got a couple of names, and on Thursday Tommie and I met with Dr. Diane McInerny. She was a tall middle-aged woman with a smile and a nice manner that put us both at ease, and we agreed on the way home from our appointment that we should keep seeing her. 

After about three weeks Tommie started to feel antsy and decided to start looking for a new job. She emailed Damon again:

"I'm job-hunting. If anyone contacts Grand Valley for a reference, make sure it's a very positive one. Nothing over-the-top, just solid and favorable. Don't reply to this message."

That weekend David flew in for a visit. It was low-key but wonderful; we both had a lot to thank him for, and he was happy to see how well Tommie was doing--how well both of us were doing.

Every time either one of us tried to thank him he just waved it off, ducking his head a little and mumbling that he was "just glad he could help." We talked with him about the plans we were working on for dealing with Damon, and he smiled at some of them! And he also had a few of his own suggestions to make, all of which were good ones.

After another few weeks, Tommie said to me, "I think I'm ready--let's do it this weekend." By then she'd taken another job, as an Executive Secretary to a female Vice President of a small software company, and it seemed to be working out well. And we'd talked extensively about what would be our final meeting with Damon, and what we wanted out of it.

Tommie emailed him on Tuesday:

"Come to our house on Saturday night at 8 pm and bring Elena. Both of you be here on time without fail. Darth Vader doesn't want you to be late. Don't reply to this message."

****************

When they rang the bell, precisely at 8 pm on Saturday, I ushered Damon and his beautiful wife into the living room, greeting them politely. Damon looked pale and nervous, Elena a little annoyed.

I guided them to a sofa where they sat, as Tommie came into the room. No one offered to shake hands.

"What is this about?" Elena asked, a little brusquely. "Damon and I were supposed to go to Atlanta this weekend for our niece's First Communion. Then at the last minute he insisted we absolutely HAD to be here."

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Elena. Did Damon tell you what to expect tonight?"

She looked even more irritated. "He wouldn't say a word until on the drive over; and then he warned me that you two might try to give me some ridiculous story about him cheating on me, or pursuing Tommie or something."

She glared at both of us. "I certainly hope you're not going to waste my time with any nonsense like that!"

"I'm very sorry, Elena, but I'm afraid it's true. Please come with me into the study," Tommie said. "I have something you need to see."

Damon jumped up in alarm, but I gestured him to sit back down.

As the ladies left the room I said, "it's just a video recording, Damon, nothing you need to see--you're the star of it."

"Goddam it, you can't--"

"Darth Vader told us just how to get in touch with him again if necessary, Damon. Do you really think he wouldn't be able to find you again?" He glared at me, but after a minute turned away in frustration and sat back down on the couch.

Tommie returned. "She's watching it now. I don't have any desire to see it again."

We sat in silence for nearly 30 minutes, a silence broken only by two or three shouts of outrage from Elena in the other room. When she stalked back into the living room she was breathing fire. She went straight over to Damon and began slapping him across the face hard, back and forth, while he cowered away from her.

"You PRICK! You MONSTER! To think that I ever loved you, ever believed in you...!

Still furious, she turned away from her husband to stare at me and Tommie. "I hope you ruin him--I hope you DESTROY him! That ... that lying, deceitful shit ..."

"I'm sorry, Elena," Damon said very quietly. Then he sat silently looking at the floor. She ignored him.

"Elena, I took the liberty of calling a cab to take you home. I figured you wouldn't want to be here any longer, while we work out some, uh, details with your husband."

"My soon-to-be EX-husband, you mean!"

Then she softened. "Tommie, I am so very sorry about this--about what Damon has done. I had no idea ... no idea he was ..." She walked over to Tommie and the two women hugged briefly. Then she turned back to me.

"Jack, my apologies to you as well. And I think I will take you up on that cab, if you don't mind."

"Elena, here's a copy of what you just watched, in case you might find it useful."

I handed her a copy of the DVD, then ushered her outside to the waiting taxi and returned to the silent living room. Damon didn't look up.

"Okay, you scumbag," Tommie hissed quietly. "Time to pay the piper."

Damon raised his eyes to look at us. He looked old, and very tired. "I'm ... sorry," he said. "I know that isn't--"

"Shut up!" Tommie was breathing fire. "Do you think I want to hear a single word out of your lying mouth?"

I went over and stood behind her to rub her shoulders, calm her down a little. She was breathing fast--I really thought she wasn't far from braining him with a lamp or something.

"Damon," I said, "we're going to tell you exactly what you need to do. And you're going to do all of it, precisely as we tell you. And there are two good reasons why--would you like to hear them?

"The first is Darth Vader, of course. And the second is that recording. How do you suppose that would affect your standing in the business world--or at your fancy golf club?"

He looked down again, with nothing to say. Tommie went to the table and picked up a pen and a yellow legal pad.

"First," she said. "You will give me the names of all the Grand Valley employees you've fucked, or tried to fuck." Damon glanced up at her in alarm as she tossed him the pad and a pen.

"But, I ... they--"

"Just do it! And you'd best be sure you don't leave anyone out."

Unwillingly, he wrote out a list of names. There were seven of them.

"I'm going to have a private conversation with each one of these ladies," Tommie said as she took the pad back. "And when that's done, you'll be writing compensation checks to them in whatever amounts I feel are appropriate."

Damon said nothing.

"Next. You'll conduct a national job search for a new Vice President in Grand Valley's Human Resources office, in charge of formulating and enforcing a Sexual Harassment policy throughout the company. That will be done in the next two months."

"Third. You'll send a check for $2 million to Jack and me, from your personal account. By Monday. Actually, it will be more than $2 million, because it will include enough extra to cover the tax we'll have to pay on that 'gift'. Your accountant can figure it out."

"Look at me, Damon. LOOK AT ME!" Tommie shouted; startled, Damon looked up into her face, shrinking back into the couch a little as he did.

"There's just one more item on my list, you lowlife. After that you're going to get up and walk out of here and disappear from our lives. Except for doing what we've told you to do, you're never going to contact us or come anywhere near either of us ever again. Is that perfectly clear?"