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Some Things Are Meant to Be

By: DREMAN



INTRODUCTION

There are salesmen and then there are SALESMEN. Having been one, and a successful one at that, I have observed how other successful salesmen operate. "Success breed success," they say, but I believe that some are meant to be salesmen. They are born ready and don't have to be taught. To them it just comes naturally.

Let me make a distinction here. A salesman is not a store clerk who merely helps customers find the rack of Polo® sport shirts. A salesman is one who engages skeptical people and convinces them that they cannot live without his product. That's my take on it. I'm sure you have yours, but you get the point even if you don't agree with mine.

Before I became one, I observed salesmen from time-to-time as they worked their magic on customers. I marveled at the way they methodically disarmed prospective buyers of their defenses and seduced them into signing on the bottom line. The thought occurred to me that they were probably just as successful with women.

On the day I finally signed on to be a salesman, I thought back to the time when the seed was planted. It was sort of weird how it happened. 

My wife, Colleen, and I were teaching in a school south of Chicago. I had gone to a large clothing store in the Chicago area to buy several pairs of my favorite slacks while they were on sale. As I was looking through the stacks, picking out the ones I wanted to purchase, I was approached by an attractive lady who asked, "Are these slacks really all they are cracked up to be? To me they are awfully pricey."

"In my opinion they are well worth the price," I replied, "and you won't beat this sale price anywhere." I proceeded to point out why I believed them to be a superior product. 

She listened attentively and commented, "You've sold me. Now help me pick out several pairs for my husband."

I said, "Certainly. Give me an idea of what he needs." And with that we began.

Together we made several selections, but she chose the ones most suitable. She thanked me for my assistance and walked over to the pay station. The cashier took the slacks from her, rang them up and asked for the name of her sales clerk. She turned and pointed to me. The cashier smiled and said, "He doesn't work here." 

She responded, "Well, he darn sure should because he sold me on these slacks."

After she left, the cashier came over to me and asked me if I wanted a job. I declined, telling him that I was happy where I was. However, the seed was planted and I knew that were I to ever need a job I would look into sales.

CHAPTER ONE

Years later, a college in which I was teaching took a financial turn for the worse. Gifts to the college in support of the arts were lagging behind the budgetary needs. As Dean of the School of Music, I had become burned out dealing with the lack of finances to support our work. I knew the department could not continue to support all its faculty members so I offered to resign and seek employment elsewhere. The President of the college was regretful that the school was in such financial straights. To let him know that I was okay with my decision, I told him what my wife has a habit of saying. I said, "Some things are meant to be, Doctor Kilgore." With that I shook his hand and left his office.

Colleen was the Assistant Dean at the time, so she became the Acting Dean in my place. The president felt that the college had enough in reserve to sustain her salary for the duration of the academic year, so she stayed on.

While considering where I might start looking for a job, it came to me that I had once considered becoming a salesman several years before. It so happened that an old friend of mine was the owner/president of a high-end electronics store in Mt Clemens, Michigan. It was only 25 miles from where we now lived, so I called his company office to set up a time to visit with him. 

When he heard who was calling he got on the phone and spoke with me briefly. He gave me a time and date to drop in and I wrote it down. On the appointed day I dressed for an interview and headed for Audiomart – Men of Sound.

The president was a very busy man and, though he had promised a 10:30 AM interview, it was almost noon before he had time to see me. When I walked into his office, He smiled and rose from his chair to greet me. "Ed, sorry I took so long. What brings you here?"

I didn't tell him right away because I wanted to chat first. We talked about the past and I brought him up to date on what was happening in our lives. Then I told him why I was there and I asked him if he had any job openings in one of his seven stores. He said that he might have an opening or two but he wanted to know how much experience I had in sales before he committed himself. I told him that I really didn't have any experience, but I was willing to make him an offer he couldn't refuse.

"What's that," he queried?

"Let me work for you for two weeks for nothing and, if it doesn't work out, I'll walk away and you won't owe me anything," I told him. "I'm willing to work any or all hours the store is open just to learn what I need to know to sell your products to the public."

He burst out laughing and stated, "In all my years in business I've never had an offer like that. How about I just pay you minimum salary during the first two weeks?"

"If you would like to do that, it's okay by me, but you don't have to. I want to try my hand at sales and you have a product line in which I am very interested. I've always been nuts over good hi-fi gear and I think I can sell it to others," I told him. 

"When do you want to start," he asked? I didn't expect him to ask so soon.

"I could start today, if you're okay with that," I responded.

"You've got yourself a deal," he said as he rose from his chair to shake my hand. "Go out front and ask for Bill. Tell him you're a new hire and that you are on the clock as of noon today."

I thanked him and reminded him, "Just remember, Chris, two weeks. If I'm no good, tell me. I don't want to infringe on our friendship if I'm no good at sales."

He looked at me through smiling eyes and replied, "You're going to do just fine, I'm sure."

I walked out front and asked the cashier for Bill. She pointed him out to me and I walked over to introduce myself. Bill looked to be about my age. He was shorter than I. I'm 6'1" and he looked to be about 5'7". He was a good-looking guy but not remarkably so. When I approached him He was standing behind his desk studying a brochure. I said to him, "My name is Ed, Bill, and I want to learn to do what you do."

He looked up at me questioningly and asked, "Why the hell would anyone want to work in a sweatshop like this? The competition is fierce, the people are obnoxious, the sales commissions are pitiful, and the hours are long and very boring at times. Can't you think of something more interesting and profitable to do?"

I didn't know whether laugh or what. I thought I had met the world's greatest pessimist and I didn't know how to respond. A moment later, he began to laugh and shook my hand. "Welcome to Audiomart, Ed. Watch closely and you can learn to do what I do." 

I later learned that the pessimist act was a game with Bill. He was actually a positive guy. Why shouldn't he be? He was, after all, the yet to be challenged King of the Hill in sales at Audiomart.

That night at home I told Colleen the good news about my new job. She was still irked that I had resigned from my college post, so she was not at all impressed with what I was going to be doing or what I would be paid to do it. She questioned how we could get by even with both our salaries. I assured her that it would be okay once I became the salesman I thought I could be. She just rolled her eyes and said, "Let me get back to you on that in another month or two. I know you're a diligent worker but I cannot see us getting rich on your commissions."

CHAPTER TWO

It seemed like everything was going the way I had hoped when I signed on at Audiomart. During my first weeks there, I shadowed Bill and couple of the other salesmen to get the hang of selling. After six weeks at Audiomart, I ranked third highest in the store and tenth in the chain of 56 salesmen. On my eighth week I was the No. 2 salesman in my store and No. 3 in the chain. Finally, on my twelfth week I bumped Bill and moved up to No.1 in our store and in the chain. After that I didn't win it consistently because the competition became pretty stiff, but I was always in the top three. Other salesmen congratulated me on my success. Bill, on the other hand, didn't say much. It was obvious that Bill didn't like what was happening at all. There was quite a bit of tension between us because I was really rolling up the sales.

A good salesman will tell you that the worst thing that can happen to him is for someone to disallow him the freedom to do what he does best. That very thing was about to happen to me. When it did, it looked like a promotion on paper, but it was anything but a promotion financially.

Audiomart asked me to become the manager of another of their other stores. The rationale behind his decision was that a good salesman could become a good manager. I was about to learn that this is not always the case. 

As manager I would be salaried, but I would still have to earn my commissions like everyone else selling. That was unlike some stores that give their managers a percentage of the store's total profits. I saw this as a real problem because my new salary didn't equal the commissions I was already making. Therefore, I would have to continue selling to make up for the difference. Finding the time to succeed at both jobs would become a problem. 

Another thing I learned was that the store to which I was assigned was located in Livonia, and it just happened to be the worst store in the chain. When I saw the statistics I could not find anything positive among them. For the first time in a long time I became a little discouraged.

Being the type of guy I am, I threw my all into transforming the Livonia store into a profitable store. I revamped the staff scheduling, store presentations and displays, and the store cleanliness and upkeep schedules. I took charge of balancing the cashier tapes with the cash in the till, and I started making the bank deposits. This was the head cashier's job before I came but I had a feeling that someone was dipping into the cash register before the deposit clips were completed. I also took care of the in-stock and product replacement inventories. The result was that my store began to see some positive days. In my eagerness to salvage the store, however, I had been too busy to sell much equipment. Consequently, my earnings dropped drastically and my chief competitor, Bill, became No. 1 again.

One day, after he had been on top for a couple of weeks, he called and began gloating. I congratulated him, but then I told him I was too busy to talk. I hung up the telephone and put my feet up on my desk to cool off. "Damn him," I thought, "why does he always have to rub it in?" 

CHAPTER THREE

Colleen met me at the door one night with some disappointing news. The college where she was teaching had to move. They could no longer pay the monthly rent on the buildings in which they were located. They were to evacuate ASAP and the move was to take place over the upcoming Christmas break. They were moving from the campus in Memphis, a small town up by Port Huron, to a vacated college campus close to Ypsilanti. That meant I would have to move my family to the Ypsilanti area, too. Thankfully, we found a nice place just a few blocks from where the college was going to be relocating. Another bright spot was that Audiomart happened to have a store in Ann Arbor, only a few miles from Ypsilanti. Consequently, I asked for a transfer to that store and it was granted.

The president immediately transferred me to manage the Ann Arbor store. It was one of the better stores in the chain, located in a beautiful mall, and there was tons of traffic every day. I know, in a college town many of those who came in were little more than "rug rakers," but the potential was there for sales. Within a week I took over and set out to make this store successful.

From the time I took over the Livonia store until now, I knew that I had been short- changing my family life. My wife had begun to complain that I was not there enough and that our children missed me. She also started to complain about our lack of intimacy. In her words, "A peck on the lips as you walk out the door does not constitute a romantic, meaningful relationship!" As anyone knows, when the wife isn't happy, nothing much goes right around home until she is. 

I was getting stressed out about it, too, but I didn't know what I could do to change things at the moment. I had to succeed in my job. Colleen and I talked and I finally told her that I had to stick with it. However, I promised that things were going to change soon and I would cut my own hours back to at least a quasi-normal number somewhere below 60 per week.

Thankfully, the Ann Arbor store had a great assistant manager named Mike. He was an outgoing guy and willing to help me whenever I needed him to do so. He was savvy, too, and he said he would cover for me if I needed to take some time off. So I did take some time off for a two-hour lunch once in awhile. That rested me somewhat but it did nothing for my marriage. 

Matters at home continued on the decline and it wasn't long before I realized that our sex life was pretty much nonexistent. Colleen began making comments about the "Absent Lover Syndrome," and she would remind me of my promises on a regular basis. Obviously the few and far-between quickies in the morning were not satisfying her. 

You might wonder if I had stopped being attracted to my wife. I had not! Colleen is a very attractive woman. She has reddish-brown hair and a great complexion. At 5'3" and 110 pounds, she is what I lovingly call "my sexy handful." Her 36-24-34 build was still almost the same as when I married her, even after two kids. I'm not saying that my wife is perfect, just that she was certainly not the problem where sex was concerned. She is very desirable! 

Having said that, however, Colleen does have a down side. She has a dynamite temper and her fuse can be lit very easily. Anyone who doesn't live up to her expectations irritates her. God forbid if anyone would ask her to find time for someone who doesn't "measure up" (to use her words). Early on I decided that her good side was the one I wanted to be on, so I had a tendency to accommodate her moods even though I disagreed with her at times. 

One Monday night after I had been at the Ann Arbor store for a while, I came home at my usual time and found Colleen still awake. It was after 11:30 PM and she was normally passed out by this time since she had early classes at college. I kissed her, told her I was surprised to see her awake, and then we talked for a bit. She made comment about how my schedule never permitted us to have friends over as much as she would like. 

Without thinking it through, I suggested that we invite a few of my colleagues from Audiomart to a Saturday barbeque. She wasn't at all enthused about my suggestion and asked, "Don't you get enough your friends at work? You know I don't particularly care for the type of people you work with, so why would I want them in my home? I'm talking about friends from the college or our church."

Immediately I realized I had not been sensitive to what she had in mind, so I tried to reach a compromise with her. I suggested that we only invite a few that she knew and liked from Audiomart, and she could invite a few friends from college or church. She finally agreed and we were able to go to sleep without getting into a fight.

The next day I notified those on my list to be at our home by 5:30 PM Saturday for a barbeque. I also told them that wives were welcome. The only single guy I invited was Mike, and he said he wouldn't be bringing a girl. When asked about hard liquor, I told the guys they would have to bring their own. I was going to provide beer but not the hard stuff.

The day before the barbeque my wife made out the list of things needed and I went to a local grocery store to buy them. The final bill was almost $150, which in the late '70s was close to two weeks grocery money for us. I didn't care, however, because I wanted to make an impression on the guys who worked with me. They worked hard and I wanted to make it special for them. Of course, I wanted to do the same for the ones from our church and the college.

Colleen asked a young friend named Becky to spend the afternoon helping with the final preparations. Becky was a college student of and a very attractive young lady. Colleen also invited her to stay for the party, and Becky accepted. I wasn't trying to play matchmaker but the thought crossed my mind that Mike was going to like her. 

The children had been invited to stay with some of their friends for the weekend. That was good news to me because I knew I could party hardy Saturday night and sleep late on Sunday. I didn't have to open the store until noon.

All went well with the preparations and everything was set to go. Shortly after 5:00 PM I was about to go outside to prepare the barbeque grill when there was a knock at our door. Thinking it was an early arrival I opened the door. I was stunned to see a face I wasn't expecting to see.

"Bill," I exclaimed. "What's up, and what are you doing on this side of the world?"

"Hey, it's been a long time since I've seen you," he replied. "I was out this way and I thought I'd drop in to see if you wanted to get a beer and catch up." 

"Man, I'd like to," I replied, "but we have company coming in about thirty minutes for a barbeque. Hey, why don't you join us! We have plenty of food and lots of beer, so we can enjoy a couple of beers together right here. What do you say?"

He paused before he finally committed himself. "Free beer. What idiot would turn down an invitation like that? Certainly not me! So get out of my way and show me to the beer!"

We laughed and I led him into the family room and told him to have a seat. I left him there while I went to the kitchen to retrieve a couple of beers. Colleen and Becky were both putting the finishing touches on everything. Colleen's back was to me as she asked who was at the door. When I told her it was Bill, she spun around with a look on her face told me that she was not happy with my response.

"Bill? Bill who?"

"Bill from Audiomart," I replied.

"What is he doing here? He's one that I specifically did NOT want to come. Someone must have told him about the party," she said through gritted teeth. "You didn't invite him to stay, did you? Well, DID YOU?"

"Colleen, do I really have a choice? C'mon, just relax and go with the flow. You know that you're always saying, 'Some things are meant to be.' Well, maybe this is one of those times," I said, trying to console her. 

It was my fault that she had such a low opinion of Bill because I had mentioned that his lifestyle was rather unsavory due to his involvement with other men's wives. He often bragged of "closing the deal" with the wives of some of his married customers when he went into their homes to set up their new sound systems. That would be more than enough to cause Colleen to react as she did.

After her angry comments, Colleen returned to whatever she had been doing and I went to the refrigerator and grabbed a couple of beers. As I closed the door, Becky and I looked at each other and I rolled my eyes. She smiled and looked down. I walked over to give Colleen a kiss on the cheek. I reassured her again that all would be okay. I could tell, however, that she was livid with me. 

For effect, I tip-toed out of the room and headed for the family room where I found Bill bent over admiring my sound system.


Some Things Are Meant to Be



A collective groan went up as soon as the monitors started flashing.

"May I have your attention please," the voice over the PA said. Although she sounded cheery, everyone could hear the underlying dismay. As if she knew that she and every other ticket agent was about to be swamped with complaints, even though there was nothing anyone could do about it. "Due to the inclement weather, all further incoming and outbound flights have been cancelled. The Federal Aviation Administration has grounded all planes not in the air and diverted all incoming flights to other airports. We apologise for the inconvenience. Please check with your airline to make alternate travel arrangements."

I had been watching The Weather Channel all evening and had been getting updates via cell phone. Although I was hoping for a miracle, my flight had already been delayed twice, so the cancellation was no surprise. I resigned myself to this immediate fate. I called my folks and told them it would be at least another day before I could get home.

On a long shot, I checked with the hotel in the airport and found that all the rooms were booked. I closed my phone and sat down in one of the row seats, knowing that it was probably going to double as my bed for the night. There was really no sense in checking with the ticket agents; right about now, they didn't know what their schedule was going to be for tomorrow, so there was no point in trying to get a seat on a plane that was probably going to be grounded anyway.

I put my earbuds in and turned on my iPod. I hummed along with the tune. It was 1989, my thoughts were short my hair was long . . .

After a moment, someone's shadow fell over me. Absently, I looked up and dialed down the volume.

. . . She was 17 and she was far from in between . . .

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" a pretty Asian woman asked.

"It is now," I smiled and did what I could to make room for her.

She plopped down next to me with an exasperated sigh. The first thing that struck me about her was how tired she looked. Like she had been running and running and running all day without a break. I took a second to surreptitiously look her over as she rubbed her temples and took a deep breath or two.

Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She was dressed stylishly and appeared to be on a business trip. After a second of trying to will the tension away, she stowed her carry-on bag under her seat. She saw me looking at her; I smiled sheepishly.

"Long day?" I asked conversationally.

"If you only knew the half of it," she replied wearily.

Our eyes met. It took us both a second, but the flash of recognition hit us both at the same time. I popped the earbuds out.

"Kevin?" she said tentatively. "Kevin Westcott?"

Unconsciously, my face broke into a wide smile. 

"Melanie Nakamura!" I said warmly.

"Oh, my god!" she reached out and gave me a tentative—but friendly—hug. "What are the odds?"

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

I've always considered myself a child of the 80s, even though we graduated in '91. It's funny how we think of our formative years, isn't it?

When I look back now, I wonder how on earth I ever could have thought my hair and clothes were cool. It was the time of jelly shoes and parachute pants. Michael Jackson was still black, hip hop was called "rap" and every girl I went to school with had a crush on some combination of 1) Kirk Cameron, 2) Nick Rhodes, and 3) Michael J. Fox. Hair bands were the rage and Flavor Flav was part of something that actually had something to say; he wasn't the pathetic caricature/attention whore he is now. And everybody knew how to Wang Chung tonight.

Back then, I was one of the first straight boys in my high school to have a pierced ear. I was unashamed to blare "Ice Ice Baby" through the speakers of my dad's Chevy Celebrity station wagon and I thought Guns N'Roses was the greatest band to ever walk the face of the earth (that's the Axl/Slash/Duff/Izzy/Steven lineup, not the pretenders touring under the name now). I played snare drum in the marching band, was on the yearbook staff and carried the stigma of being in the "gifted classes". 

Of course, Melanie did, too. But she was so much cooler than I was. Maybe it was because in our high school, she was one of the handful of Asian kids. We were bused across town as part of court-ordered desegregation, and most of us saw race in terms of black and white. Melanie was the classic stereotypical Asian kid. Overachiever. Thin. Karate black belt. Genetically good at math. Exotically pretty. Uncharacteristically strong for her size. 

Her parents were both college professors. For the most part, they were very traditional and raised their kids as such. The one exception was giving Melanie and her brother American names, ostensibly to help them fit in. She graduated second in our class behind Ajay Patel, and I always believed she felt that she should have been first. She had good grades because her parents simply expected it. She was self-motivated, fiercely competitive and never did anything in a half-assed way.

What I always appreciated about Melanie was even though she was smarter than just about everyone in the school, she never flaunted it. She didn't gloat or look down on people. Our high school had all of the usual cliques: the jocks, the losers, the motorheads, the rednecks, the gangsta wannabes, the white-kids-who-wanted-to-be-black, the band geeks, the cheerleaders, the oreos, the dorks, the "alternative" kids (before they were known as "goths"), the skaters, the pretty people, the kung-fu mafia, the stoners, and so on.

Melanie usually ran with the "popular" kids, but wasn't above speaking to us AP nerds and founding members of the Computer Club; she wasn't one of the "mean girls" (back in the day, we called them "Heathers"; go rent the movie). She seemed to move easily through the cliques, never really belonging to just one and was always friendly to everyone who didn't try to cop a quick feel or make fun of her almond-shaped eyes. I don't think she ever really noticed me as anything more than a "friend", but I'd like to think that when she and I were paired up in a group project, she didn't have to do all the work.

After our prom, we ended up at the same party. There was some drinking involved and we were both pretty tipsy.

I don't know how it happened, but we soon ended up in an empty bedroom. Our teenage hormones took over and I couldn't believe my luck! 

Melanie Nakamura was making out with me! And not only that, she was frisky when she was drunk!

Let me state right now that I'm a breast guy. I love tits. Juggs. Melons. Tanks. Ta-ta's. Hooters. Whatever your euphemism of choice is, if it's on a girl's chest and has a nipple on the end, I love it. Big, small, pointy, round, heavy . . . I don't care.

In your mind, picture the perfect set of breasts. Who they're attached to probably has something to do with your age. For some, they probably belong to Marilyn Monroe or Jayne Mansfield. For others, maybe Selma Hayek or Jessica Alba. For me, my first loves were Erin Grey (aka Colonel Wilma Deering) and Lynda Carter. 

But then Melanie Nakamura hit puberty.

Her breasts were never big, but size isn't everything. Melanie's tits were always perky and firm. Maybe it was the way she wore her clothes. She didn't hide behind baggy shirts, but nor were her tops too tight. They were fitted in a way that highlighted her assets but left just enough to the imagination to still be enticing. She was the object of much of my "special time" from when I was twelve until . . . well, until we met again in that airport, almost eighteen years after prom.

Neither of us dated much. Me because I was too shy around girls, and her because her parents thought she should focus on school, not boys.

In any event, we were pawing like frisky kitties and were soon undressing one another. After six years of lust, I finally got my chance to play with her tits.

I don't think I came out from between them until she told me that she wanted me to actually fuck her. 

After her words finally sunk in, I scrambled around awkwardly looking for the condoms I had stashed in the jacket of my tuxedo. If your first time was anything like mine, I'm surprised anyone ever has sex twice. We were both eighteen and it was the blind leading the blind.

She didn't know what to do and neither did I. Remember, this was before internet porn was widely available as an "educational" tool. (Author's Note: Whether what happens in porn is reflective of how people actually have sex is another topic all together, but at least the general mechanics are there for you to see). All we had were a few softcore nudie magazines and whatever movie was on "Skinemax" After Dark. We didn't know what to do or how everything was supposed to fit together. I'm sure it was uncomfortable and awkward for her. It certainly was for me.

All I knew was that Melanie Nakamura, the one girl who was out of reach for everyone at school was giving her virginity to me. Me, Kevin Westcott: A gawky, clumsy, nerdy white kid who knew more about Star Trek than football, drove his dad's piece of crap station wagon to prom and wouldn't be able to land a single punch in a fight with one of the school's jocks. Me!

I only lasted a few seconds before my eighteen year-old cock blew its wad. I was ashamed, but she didn't rub it in. She was even nice enough to tell me how big I was and that I made her feel good. The second time was about the same.

Hey, at least I wasn't a virgin anymore!

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

Well, that's not actually how our prom night turned out. But in my fertile (and horny) imagination, that's how it would have gone. 

As it was, we saw each other at prom, but she was there with her date. Me with mine. We went to separate after-prom parties. My date had to be home by 2 AM, plus we went more as friends than anything else, so there was no hanky-panky for me. 

Graduation was two weeks after that and I didn't see Melanie Nakamura again until our chance meeting in a snowbound airport a lifetime later.

"What on earth are you doing here?" I asked, settling back into my seat.

"I'm on my way home," she replied. "I was out in San Francisco and hoping to beat the weather back."

"What's going on out in California?"

"I'm trying to close a deal," she said. "What about you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to visit the folks for a long weekend," I said.

"Where are you living now?" Melanie asked.

"Outside of Richmond. I just bought a house." It was good to catch up with an old friend. It brought a bright spot to an otherwise dreary night. The other people in the airport were divided into two distinct camps. One group had resigned themselves to the fact that they wouldn't be going anywhere. The other was pissed off and thought that by shouting that they could somehow will away the freak blizzard that was swamping a regional air transportation hub. "Want to go get a drink?"

Melanie sighed, then smiled wearily. "Sure."

We gathered our things and went to one of the bars in the airport, ordered a couple of appetizers and began talking. After high school, she went to Duke, completed her degree in finance in three years, then picked up her MBA. Melanie was a commercial lender and had somehow survived all the bank mergers and layoffs that came about in the wake of the sub-prime mess. Melanie's father's health was failing and she moved home to help care for him; luckily she had a job where she could telecommute and fly to the places that needed her. 

"What have you been up to since graduation?" she asked, downing the rest of her margarita in one gulp.

"I went to Guilford College and dual-majored in history and computer science," I took a bite of almost-cold cheesestick. "Then I got my master's and Ph.D. in history from Emory. I teach at a community college now."

"Not at a university?"

"Nah," I replied. "I hate the 'publish or perish' mentality of the big schools. I like to teach and work with people, not feel like I have to put out a paper every four months or lose my job."

Our conversation turned to family. She was divorced with two kids who split time between her and her ex-husband. I was single; no kids, no pets. The night wore on and the time seemed to fly by.

At about eleven, the lights inside the terminal dimmed. Most everyone had settled down; the initial furor was gone. Everyone who remained accepted that no planes were coming or going until at least the next afternoon. The rest had left to try and find an alternate way home or a hotel to stay in. Melanie and I both decided that if the hotel that was attached to the airport was booked up, we weren't going to brave the storm and go somewhere else for the night.

The bar closed at midnight and we went back to our boarding gate to try and find a spot to sleep.

I cherished the few hours with my beautiful friend. In some ways, it seemed as if we picked up right where we left off, seventeen and a half years ago. In other ways, it was like we were meeting for the first time. 

The years had been kind to her. I can't say as much for myself. She was still petite and drop-dead gorgeous. However, there were a few grey hairs and lines on her face that hadn't been there before. I guess two kids, an ex-husband and a career in banking will age people. Still, I couldn't think of one other person I'd rather be stuck in an airport with than Melanie Nakamura.

All of the seats were taken, mostly by couples or families. We found a corner near the window that was conveniently next to a power outlet. We plugged in our cell phones and iPods to charge then leaned back against the wall.

"Do you remember Grad Night?" I asked softly.

We both smiled at the pleasant memory. Grad Night is something Disney World does for all of the high schools in Florida. Basically, they open the Magic Kingdom from 11 PM to 7 AM to graduating seniors. All the rides and attractions are open and they have popular music acts on stages throughout the park. For our year, the big names were En Vogue and C&C Music Factory. Mel and I crossed paths a couple of times during the night, but for me, the highlight was the ride home.

"You mean when Jeff Bunting fell asleep with his face against the glass on 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea?" Melanie giggled.

"Something like that," I said.

"Or the part where your shoulder was my pillow on the bus?" After a full day of school, a bus ride to Orlando then eight hours of Disney fun, we were both bushed. We somehow ended up sharing a seat on the bus ride home and having Melanie sleeping with her head on my shoulder was the closest to Heaven I had ever been.

I smiled sheepishly.

Neither of us said anything else that night. She pulled her jacket around her shoulders. I leaned back into the corner, my head against the wall. Melanie snuggled up in the crook of my arm and soon we were both asleep.

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

The lights came on promptly at 7:00 the next morning. Another foot of snow had fallen overnight. Melanie and a thousand of our closest friends stirred as the airport came to life. The status boards were all flashing "cancelled" for every flight.  

We stretched and took turns going to the restrooms. There was a line in the women's room and she took a little longer than me.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" I asked as she came out. Even though we had spent the night basically sitting up, she still looked beautiful. At least to me.

"Can't I get a cup of coffee first?"

"There's a line for that, too."

Melanie rolled her pretty brown eyes. "Give me the bad news first."

"The earliest we're gonna get out of here is tomorrow." I picked up my laptop bag and backpack. She pulled on the handle of her carry-on suitcase and rolled it along as we headed back to the main part of the concourse.

"Dammit!" she kindly refrained from using some of the many choice words I knew she wanted to blurt out. From what I remembered about Melanie, despite her appearance as a petite, well-mannered young woman, her favourite curse word was twelve letters long, started with M and ended in R. "I thought it was supposed to clear up today."

"It is supposed to clear up later today, but that's not the problem," I pointed to the TV that was showing a radar map on The Weather Channel. "See all that white? From Bismark to Pittsburgh? That's the problem. The plane sitting outside our gate isn't ours. That one's going to San Diego. Our plane is stuck in Minneapolis and won't get in until late tonight at the earliest."

She let out another exasperated sigh. "What's the good news?"

"I think I scored us a hotel room." I smiled.

"How'd you manage that?" she asked.

"Connections," I replied cryptically. "It won't be ready until about noon, but I've got enough Marriott points to get bumped to the top of the list for the hotel here."

"I don't suppose you want to try and drive home?" Melanie asked, her voice hopeful.

"Not really," I frowned. "They're not used to getting so much snow this far south. It's six hours home under sunny conditions. Never mind this mess. I'd rather take my chances on a plane than on a road full of morons who only see snow once every five years. And there's no telling if they have the plows and salt trucks necessary to clear the roads."

"I suppose you're right," she sounded dejected.

"Let's go get something to eat," I suggested, trying to change the subject.

We made our way to the food court. There were only a couple of places open for breakfast; we picked the one that served cafeteria-style.

Filling our trays, we went to check out. She reached for her billfold, but I got my debit card out first.

"I'd also like to pay for the people behind us, too," I said stepping up to the register. Melanie, the cashier and the family of five that was next in line stared at me in disbelief. I pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Thank you," the father said as everyone carted their breakfast away. I smiled and wished them happy travels to wherever it was they were going.

Melanie and I went to sit down at a table. 

"Do you always do stuff like that?" she asked.

"Like what?"

"Like buy meals for complete strangers."

"I've been both fortunate and lucky in my lifetime. Sometimes, I've been helped out by folks I didn't know and given opportunities clear out of the blue," I told her. "I just try to pay it forward when I can."

"It seems that someone could take advantage of you."

"I guess." I only shrugged. "Usually, I don't tell anyone in advance. Like that family; they looked tired and hungry. Based on the way they're dressed and the stuff they're carrying, I'd guess they're on their way home from Disney World and probably didn't build another day's worth of meals into their budget. I do well enough and can afford an extra forty bucks to make someone's day. Besides, I never know when I'm going to need some karma."

"Some what?"

"Karma, you know, 'what goes around, comes around'," I smiled. "Don't you watch My Name is Earl?"

"I don't watch much television," she said and I couldn't tell if her deadpan expression was serious or not.

"You should watch more. Slow down some and enjoy life a little," I said, trying not to sound like I was lecturing her.

Melanie absently turned to her breakfast. She had a cinnamon roll; I had a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit. Melanie got her Starbucks fix; I settled for bottled water. Neither of us said much more as we ate. I could see the gears turning in her head. It looked to me like she was trying to fix something in her head she had no control over.

After our quick bite, we made our way to the ticket counter and tried to get seats on the next plane home. We tentatively secured ourselves a place on the first flight out, but at the earliest we weren't going to be leaving until the next morning.  




Some Things Are Meant to Be



It was lunch time before my phone beeped. I checked the text message and breathed a sigh of relief that my contingency plan was going to work out. Melanie spent most of the morning on the phone, talking to her folks, her boss and whoever else she just had to be in touch with. 

I corralled her as best I could. We made our way out of the boarding concourses and into the main hub. There were lines for everything: tickets, security, baggage; hell, even Ben & Jerry's was backed up four deep. We passed out of the security area, then went up an escalator into the main atrium of the hotel.

Outside, the sun was out, but it was still cold. The airport's snow plows and salt trucks had cleared most of the runways, but it was still pretty ugly out there. We checked with the desk and our room was almost ready.

"All we have available is the executive suite," the attendant said. "Non-smoking, king-sized bed. I see you're a member of our Platinum Rewards Club. The rate for one night is fifty thousand points."

I smiled and handed her my credit card to bill "incidentals". Melanie was still jabbering away on her cell phone.

"Will you be with us for just one night or two?" the woman at the desk asked. 

"Ask me tomorrow morning," I laughed.

"I'll hold this room for you for one more night, Mr. Westcott," she said with a wink. Platinum Rewards Club has some privileges, I guess. "Just let us know by noon tomorrow."

"I'm sure we'll know by about eight tomorrow morning," I said. She handed me two magnetic strip keys and we went up to our room.

I wasn't carrying much by way of luggage. In fact, I didn't even have a change of clothes or deodorant. I was packing my laptop, a couple of books, my iPod and some other odds and ends in my backpack. Melanie had everything in her carry-on suitcase that was designed specifically to fit in one of the overhead bins on a plane.

We settled into the room. There was a good-sized bedroom separated from the main living space. There was a large flat-panel TV, a desk, couch and kitchenette. The bathroom had both a stand-up shower and a large whirlpool tub.

"I need a shower," Melanie rolled her suitcase to the bathroom. 

"Yeah, well I need some clothes. I'm gonna run downstairs and get something to wear and find a toothbrush. Do you need anything?"

"No, thanks," she replied. Melanie flashed me a grateful smile that made my heart skip a beat. Then she closed the door to the bathroom and I heard the water running.

A little while later, I returned to the room, my arms laden with bags. I had picked up two changes of clothes, some basic toiletries, a pizza and some drinks. For airport shopping, I didn't get gouged too much.

I set the pizza down on the table and called for Melanie. There was no response. I peeked into the bedroom and saw her wrapped in a terrycloth bathrobe, her hair up in a towel. She was lying curled up on top of the covers, her eyes closed. 

Even asleep, she looked worried. As quietly as I could, I hunted around in the closet for a blanket, lay it over her, then drew the curtains. I shut the door to the bedroom, turned on the TV, ate a quarter of the pizza and dozed off on the couch.  

Wishing that Melanie Nakamura was snuggled up against me as she had been the night before.

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

"Have a good nap, sleepyhead?"

I stretched and blinked the haze away. Melanie was dressed in a nice blouse and knee-length skirt. Her hair was pulled back and she had replaced her contacts with a stylish pair of wire-framed glasses. Her big brown eyes bored into me.

"What time is it?" I yawned. 

"Almost five," she replied. "Are you hungry?"

"A little," I said. "I got a pizza earlier."

"Yeah, I saw that." Looking over, I saw that she had eaten some, but still, over half was left.

"Do you want to get something for dinner?" she asked. There was a hesitant look in her eyes for a second, then it was gone. "My treat."

"Um, sure," I sat up and rubbed the flat spot in my hair the couch had left. "Let me go clean up."

After the quickest shower in my life, I was dressed in a new pair of pants and button-down shirt. I still had the same pair of worn-out—but comfortable—deck shoes on. Melanie's long, jet-black hair was hanging around her shoulders, highlighting her exotic, angular features.

I nervously ran my hand through my hair, wondering if I was finally getting that date with Melanie Nakamura that I had dreamt about since middle school. The date every guy in our high school had coveted, but only a half-dozen had ever gotten. Needless to say, I wasn't one of them.

We went to the door. I jumped with both surprise and delight as she slipped her hand into the crook of my arm. I walked with my head in the clouds all the way to the restaurant in the lobby. They had a nice upscale menu that wasn't outrageously pricey and the atmosphere was perfect.

Once again the airport was bustling with people trying to get to wherever it was they needed to go. There were still a few delays and lots of short tempers, but the storm had passed and now it was just a matter of all the planes and people getting shuffled around to their proper places. The line at the ticket desk was still a mile long, so we went right to dinner.

For the first part of the meal, neither of us said much. I could tell she was worried about something. Every few minutes she checked her phone when it buzzed, but eventually put it away once we ordered. We continued to talk about our lives since high school. We compared notes about our mutual friends and gossiped about everyone we could think of.

A couple of drinks loosened us both up. I ordered the Maryland crabcake dinner. They were to die for: lots of lump crab meat and not a lot of filler. They had a good taste that didn't have so much spice that it overpowered the crab. Melanie ordered a chicken and pasta dish. We got to sharing and both found that we liked what the other had ordered.

Not that I had a lot to drink, but maybe it was the alcohol that left me staring a couple of times at the valley between Melanie's perfect breasts. She wasn't showing off much cleavage, but there was just enough skin cause my eyes to linger longer than they should have. For her part, she ignored my oogling glances and continued our conversation.

I tried to grab the check, but she was quicker than me.

"You've paid for everything so far," she chided me gently.

"Just because you bought me dinner, don't think that I'm easy and going to put out for you tonight." Perhaps I had a little too much to drink with dinner. She only gave me an amused smirk.

We left the restaurant arm in arm. The line had died down at the ticket desk and we checked on our flight for the next day. The plane was still held up in Minneapolis, but the weather had cleared and they expected that it would be back in the air by noon. Then it was just a matter of getting seats on an over-booked flight.

"We only have seats left in first-class," the ticket agent said.

"Together?" I asked.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "Four-A and Four-B."

"We'll take 'em," I said as Melanie's eyes got wide.

He tapped his fingers along the keyboard. "Will you paying for these together or separately."

Melanie started to protest, but I held up one hand and reached for my wallet with the other. I drew out my frequent flyer card. "I'd like to cash in some of my points."

The ticket agent scanned the back of my card. "I've got you all taken care of. Right now, the plane is scheduled for a 3:46 departure. You probably want to be through security by 2:30."

"What about my luggage?"

"It's probably already gone ahead of you," the agent said with an apologetic smile before he handed us our tickets.

"You didn't have to do that," Melanie said as we walked away.

"Do what?"

"Upgrade us to first-class," she said quietly.

"I've got a million points, so it's no big deal."

"Is there any way I can pay you back?" she shot me one of those looks that made my heart skip a beat. Again.

The response I wanted to give her was, Sure thing, Mel. Let me bend you over and fuck your brains out. But I decided that would be tacky. Instead, I said, "Naw. I've literally got a million points. I have one of those airline credit cards, plus since I'm single and don't have any kids, I actually have money and time to travel."

"And your community college job just lets you pick up and go?"

I wondered if she had seen through my lie. I shrugged. "Well, we get three months off in the summer, spring break, Thanksgiving break and three weeks off in December. Plus, I've been there long enough that I only have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Monday/Wednesday office hours."

"Must be nice to be so unencumbered." There was a wistful tone in her voice. We walked back to the room in silence.

Throughout the night, I couldn't help but feel that there was some underlying sexual tension between us. Maybe it was just me. Or the drinks. When we stepped into the room, I wondered how the night was going to end. After all, there was only one king-sized bed. And two of us.

Melanie went back to the bedroom and began digging around in her suitcase. She drew out a small toiletry kit. "I'm going to take a bath."

I smiled, trying not to look disappointed at the apparent end of our night together.

Plopping down on the couch, I turned the TV on and began channel surfing as I heard the water running in the whirlpool tub. Only absently did I pay attention to the tube (remember when they actually had cathode ray tubes inside them?); instead, I replayed over and over the previous events of the night.

There I was, alone—alone!—at dinner with Melanie Nakamura, the smartest, prettiest girl in my high school. Not only was she talking to me—me!—but she seemed genuinely interested in catching up with a kid who had spent most of middle and high school as "invisible". Yes, I was smart, but socially adept I was not. Melanie was the Holy Grail for us geeks. She was absolutely unattainable. We were mere peasants and she was Amaterasu, the Japanese sun goddess.

I would have spent the entire night sitting there on the couch with a goofy grin on my face if her melodic voice didn't call me out of my daydreams.

"Kev? Kevin?" 

Springing to my feet, I went to the door of the bathroom. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," she sounded a little nervous. "Can you come in here for a second?"

My hands were shaking as I turned the latch on the door. The lights were out. She had set a flashlight against the mirror. Its soft glow bathed the room in a gentle light. Next to the sink, Melanie had plugged her iPod into a small pair of speakers. The sound of waves washing against the shore echoed off the walls. Her clothes were folded neatly in the corner next to the door.

A lump formed in my throat when I looked over at the big jacuzzi tub. Melanie's head was the only part of her that was visible. The tub was filled with bubbles. A folded washcloth was under her neck. A butterfly clip held her hair up. Her eyes were closed.

"Would you like to join me?" I had to do a double-take. There was no possible way she could have meant those words. Was there?

I stood in the doorway like a dummy.

She giggled. "Either come in or go away. You're letting all the warm air out!"

With great effort, I willed my body into motion. I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

"Come on in," she said gently. "There's enough room in here for four. I won't look. I promise."

Melanie winked then closed her eyes.

In record time, I shed my clothes and left them in a heap next to hers. Trying not to make any waves in the tub, I sat down opposite her. Our legs brushed together. 

I couldn't help it. Honest.

The water wasn't scalding hot, but between the warm air and the alcohol I had imbibed earlier, I began to feel lightheaded. I wondered if it had anything to do with the petite beauty who was so graciously sharing the tub with me.

Neither of us spoke for a long time. 

We settled into a comfortable position. I was unable to not touch her, but I did my best to not seem like I was trying to be all over her, either.

"Do you miss high school?" she quietly broke the silence.

"Not really," I replied. "I miss some of the people, but I could leave all the drama behind."

"But life was so simple then," Melanie opened her eyes just a little. "No responsibility. No worries."

"No worries?" My eyebrow went up. "High school was all worries for me. Getting into college . . . What will people think about me? . . . Will Adam Harrington make fun of my shoes this week? . . . Why don't I drive a cooler car? . . . No, Mel, everything about high school was stressful to me. You couldn't give me a million bucks to go through that again."

"You're right about the drama," she said. "But sometimes . . . sometimes, don't you just get tired of life?"

I started to say something, but stopped. This was the Melanie I first saw when she sat down next to me the day before. The weary one. She only had a little grey hair—she probably coloured it out—but there were lines around her eyes I hadn't noticed before. Sitting there with me, she was naked not only physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. 

It was as if all the stress of her trip had finally caught up with her. 

Tentatively, I felt around the tub and reached for her foot. She jumped slightly at my touch, but when my thumbs dug in her heels, she let out a deep, contented sigh.

Starting gently, I worked both feet over in a gentle massage. I could swear she almost melted into the bathwater.

Every now and then, she'd give me a "harder" or "right there", but mostly she let me work at my own pace. She squealed with delight when I pulled gently on her toes.

After ten minutes or so, the tension lines were gone from her face. It looked like she was about to go to sleep.

"Why did we never go out?" Her voice was so soft, I could barely hear her.

"You were too busy going ga-ga over Jonah Nelson," I replied, making reference to the school's football/baseball/basketball star.

In the dim light, I saw her smile at a fond memory or two. "You couldn't stand him, could you?"

She must have noticed that I could barely hide my contempt. He was pretty, self-absorbed, arrogant and stupid. And he had his choice of girls in the school. Including the woman whose foot I was holding.

"It's too bad you didn't come to the reunion back in '01." Her gentle smile turned into a wicked grin. "He went to Florida State to play baseball, knocked a girl up, blew out his knee and dropped out when he lost his scholarship. Last I heard, he was managing a tire store but I think it went out of business. You'll be happy to know that he's balding, overweight and still dumb as a box of rocks."

I don't know if she was saying that for my benefit or if it was true, but I sneered at the thought of the school's #1 jock being down on his luck. I know it's petty. So sue me. Us nerds hate(d) the pretty boys.

"So why did you never ask me out?"

"Would you have said 'yes'?"

She cut her response short. Both of us knew what the answer was. And I don't blame her. I wouldn't have wanted to go out with me in high school, either. The silence hung over us for several long moments. 

"Do you know what I always liked about you?" In the dim light, her eyes bored right in to me. "You always seemed comfortable with who you were. You never tried to act like you wanted people to like you. You weren't ashamed to talk about Dungeons & Dragons with your friends. You put those stupid neon windshield wipers on that piece of shit car you drove. It was like you were saying, 'This is who I am; if you don't like it, go to hell.' I wish I had been like that in high school."

I snorted. "I'd have traded all that to be cool for just one day."

"It wouldn't be worth it," Melanie said softly.

"That's easy for you to say; you were one of the cool kids."

It was her turn to scoff. "Do you know how hard it was to be one of five Asian kids in with two thousand black and white kids? To have people ask why my eyes are shaped funny? Or if I know all the secrets of the Kama Sutra? Or to be called a 'chink' or a 'jap'?"

We both took a deep therapeutic breath. 

"Do you know what else I liked about you?" she asked after a long pause. "You were always a romantic at heart. You think in terms of knights in shining armour and honour and right and wrong. You always treated us girls with respect and dignity, not like pieces of meat to be groped or treated as conquests."

"Yeah, well, look where it got me," I said with a smirk. "Thirty-six and single. In the dreaded 'friend zone' all the time. You'll notice that none of the girls I treated so well ever kissed me."

"One of them is in a bathtub with you, Kevin," Melanie pointed out.

I let out a deep, hearty laugh. "Yeah, eat your heart out, Jonah Nelson! I'm naked with Melanie Nakamura and you're not!"

Both of us giggled like we were eighteen again, but Melanie's face got serious and maudlin again.

"Koizumi."

"What?"

"It's Koizumi now," she said with a frown. "Melanie Koizumi. That's the real reason why I wouldn't have gone out with you back then. My parents wanted me to be a good Japanese girl and stay away from white guys and black guys. They'd have freaked out if I'd brought you home. They did like you, though. They thought you were smart and well-mannered. It's not your fault you're not Japanese."

The water had cooled a little and our skin had shriveled in the heat.

"I'm going to rinse off." Melanie let out a deep sigh. "Close your eyes." 

Dutifully, I resisted temptation and refrained from looking as she lifted herself from the tub. I heard the shower run for just a second as she rinsed the bubbles off. When I heard the door open and close, I opened my eyes, hardly believing my luck.

I pulled the stopper out of the tub and stepped into the shower myself. I took my time figuring that Melanie was getting ready for bed. It was all I could do to resist the urge to masturbate.

After drying off, I wrapped a towel around my waist and opened the door, I stuck my head out and saw the lights were off.

"Mel?"

"Over here," she called from the bed.

"Are you decent?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Okay, I need to get my boxers and then we'll figure out—"

"Turn off the flashlight and come out here," she interrupted.

I stepped out of the bathroom and walked past the sink and mirror. My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

Melanie was lying in the middle of the bed. In the low light that shone through from behind the curtains, I could tell the comforter was turned down, but she had pulled the top sheet up under her arms. In the relative coolness of the bedroom, her nipples were sticking straight up. My cock unconsciously hardened under the towel.

"I've, um . . ." I stammered.

"Kevin, come over here," she commanded. There was a new sultry tone to her voice. 

Robotically, I walked over until I was standing next to the bed. I couldn't take my eyes off her breasts, which were covered only by the thin sheet.

"Mel . . . I—" My mouth wouldn't form any coherent words.

"Shhhhh," she quieted me gently. "Kevin . . . I want you to do something for me. I want you . . . Just for tonight . . . Non-committal, friends-with-benefits sex."

Of course, I wanted more than that. I had since we were about twelve. But in that moment, I'd have agreed to anything if it involved both of us being naked.

"I know that even though you've done just about everything for the two of us: this room, the plane tickets . . . you'd sleep out on the couch without me even asking. You're that kind of guy. You always were," she continued. "And I appreciate that. I really do. I'm not asking this because I'm paying you back for anything . . . I just . . ."




Some Things Are Meant to Be



Her voice faded off and just for a second, there was a distant look in her eyes.

"It's been so long," she said wistfully. Then she held her hand out. "Come to me."

Wild horses couldn't have stopped me from laying down in the bed next to her. I would have fought my way through Her Majesty's Coldstream Guards to take Melanie in my arms.

Our lips pressed together. It was a tender, gentle, awkward kiss.

I felt like I was sixteen again. Only I never kissed anyone when I was sixteen. At least no one other than my mother or grandmother. And I certainly didn't kiss them like I was kissing Melanie Nakamura.

Her arms wrapped around my shoulders. We explored each other, tentatively at first. I bit gently on her lips. She squealed with delight. Melanie sucked on my tongue. I moaned softly.

She sat up and our bodies pressed together.

My hands brushed against the soft skin of her back. Her body felt so light. We were both flush with the heat from the bath. And a little bit from the night's alcohol. And passion that had been pent up for half a lifetime.

Our kisses became familiar. Harder. Our teeth knocked together. 

I pulled back long enough to slip her glasses off and set them on the nightstand next to the bed.

Melanie lay back against the pillows and she pulled me down on top of her. Our bodies were separated only by the thin top sheet.

"Make love to me," she whispered.

"I don't have any condoms," I stammered.

"You don't need one; I'm on the pill," Melanie blew into my ear. 

"Are you sure?"

"How many girls have you been with?" she asked, nibbling on the side of my neck.

Here's a tip for the CIA: If you want to get a man to tell you anything, just have Melanie Nakamura kiss them. They'll confess all their sins and give up every one of their secrets.

"Five," I said.

"Do you know how many men I've been with?" she asked. I dumbly shook my head. "One. My husband. And he never looked at me the way you are right now. He never truly desired me. I'm not even sure he ever loved me. I want you, Kevin . . . Make love to me . . . please . . ."

Who was I to refuse her?

My hands brushed the sheet away and I pressed my naked body against hers. 

"Touch them," she instructed, as if reading my mind.

As if waiting for the alarm clock to go off and end this dream—because that's the only thing it could be—I hesitated before slowly bringing the palms of my hands up to her breasts.

Melanie let out a low, throaty growl. I nearly came right there.

Her breasts were as perfect as I had imagined. Though it had been almost eighteen years since I had last seen her, they were still perky and firm. They had a hint of sag, but as far as I was concerned, they were thirty-six year-old marvels. Her nipples became hardened little points in my grasp.

Ever so slowly, I kneaded her breasts in my hands. My lips strayed from hers. I kissed my way across her cheek to her neck.

Then down to her collarbone.

She moaned as I left a trail of wet kisses down between her breasts. The after prom fantasy I had was pretty good. It kept me entertained literally for years.

But it was nothing compared to the real thing.

Melanie's petite body shivered at my touch. Her lithe form was simply heavenly.

And those breasts. Her perfect little tits. I could have worshiped them forever.

I alternated kissing and squeezing and pinching and cupping them.

A couple of times, she pulled me by the hair to bring my lips to hers. But mostly, she lay back, her mouth open, gasping for air between moans.

Her skin was so soft. Her touch so gentle. Her mouth so hungry.

Finally, she pulled my mouth away from her chest.

"I want you inside me," she whispered.

With one motion, I swept the sheet and comforter aside. Melanie lay back, her legs splayed open. Her breasts sat up high on her chest. I got up on my knees in front of her.

My cock stuck out in front of me like the bowspirit on a tall ship. For the first time, I saw my hunger and desire reflected in Melanie's eyes.

Her hands went to me and she began to stroke me gently. Her fingertips felt so soft.

"Fuck me with this thing, Kevin," she whispered.

I leaned forward and kissed her again. As our tongues intertwined, she began to rub the head of my cock against the slit of her pussy. With every pass, she whimpered a little. I tried not to cum right there.

One of my hands cupped her breasts. The other brushed her hair out of her face. 

Her mouth fell open when I pushed forward with my hips. The tip of my cock entered her.

"Yes," she gasped.

I pulled back then thrust in a little further. Ever so slowly, began to rock back and forth.

With each stroke, I pushed just a little bit more inside her.

"Oh, god," Melanie moaned.

With each stroke, her fingernails dug into my back just a little bit harder.

Her pussy coated my cock with its warmth. I pulled back enough to look into her eyes. They were hooded over with pleasure. 

She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

We were in no rush. Soon, we found an easy rhythm. Her hips moved to meet each of my strokes.

"Kev . . . oh, god, you feel so good," she gasped. Her eyes were closed.

I kissed her again. Her hands went down to my ass and she pulled me all the way inside her.

If I had died right there, I would have been a happy and fulfilled man. In fact, I'm not sure I didn't die, because I was in Heaven. 

Melanie's warm pussy seemed to fit me like a glove. Her head was thrown back. I nibbled on the underside of her jawbone.

I felt her push back on my hips, so I withdrew until only the tip of my cock was still inside her.

Without warning, I thrust back into her with one fast, hard stroke.

She squealed with surprise and delight. "Do that again!"

"Do this again?"

Very quickly, I found out that Melanie Nakamura was a screamer.

If I had cared what the people in the room next door thought, I might have worried about waking them. 

Varying the speed and depths of my strokes, I began to pound my cock into her. She began to babble incoherently, both in English and in Japanese.

Her hands ran through my hair and she pulled me down to her. I didn't break stride.

I could feel her tits pressing against me. I could feel her pussy flood with warmth.

"Don't stop, Kevin," she cried. "Don't stop fucking me!"

My reply was an unintelligible grunt.

Melanie's eyes were squeezed shut. She gritted her teeth as she absorbed each thrust.

Our hips smacked together. She began to grind her hips in to me. Our rhythm almost seemed natural. 

As if our lovemaking was second nature to the two of us.

I wasn't going to last very long.

Neither was she.

"Oh, Kevin," she gasped. "I'm about to cum!"

With all the effort I could gather, I tried to hold it. But I couldn't. I rolled her nipple between my finger and thumb.

That sent her over the edge.

I could feel her pussy contracting around me.

That sent me over the edge.

"I'm cumming!" My cock began to pulse inside her.

"Yes, Kevin, cum inside me!" she sobbed. "I'm cumming all over you!"

With one final stroke, I shoved my cock as deep inside her as it would go and deposited a thick load of cum inside my high school dream girl.

She wrapped her legs around me and locked her ankles behind the small of my back.

We rode out the orgasm together. She arched her back. I squeezed her breasts. The room started to spin.

I collapsed on top of her. Our breathing was ragged.

My head rested on the pillow next to her. I couldn't move.

"Don't go," she whispered as I began to roll off her. 

All I could do was lay there inside her, wondering what I had done to deserve this. And how many good deeds I'd have to do in order to earn the karma necessary to merit the boon I had just received.

For a long while afterwards, her hands ran up and down my back. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to lose the magic of the moment.

I worried that I might be squishing her. After all, standing up, her head came up to my collarbone and over the last eighteen years, I had packed on a few—but not too many—pounds. Whenever I started to roll to the side or pull away, she tugged just a bit and kept me on top of her.

My cock never left her pussy. Even though I wasn't hard any more, I didn't slip out of her.

"Thank you," she said finally.

I slipped my forearm under the back of her neck and propped myself up on one elbow. I leaned in and kissed her gently. "I should be the one thanking you. You don't know how long I've dreamed of this . . . of how long I've wanted you."

We held each other for a long time.

"I love feeling you inside me," she whispered in my ear.

"I'm not too heavy for you, am I?"

"No, Kev, you're not." Her hands continued to move up and down my back. Our bodies were both covered in sweat.

"So was it everything that you imagined?" she said finally.

"And then some," I smiled feebly. She brought my lips to hers and we gently kissed again. The hunger was gone from her touch.

Not much later, our bodies fell into a familiar rhythm. After a brief recovery period, my cock began to harden inside her. My hands roamed her body as well and we began Round 2.

"You feel so good," Melanie moaned. "You're so hard for me . . ."

Before I could reply, she squeezed me with her pussy. I almost lost it right then!

Her hands cupped my face. "You're so handsome, Kevin. You've aged well . . . you used to be way too thin for your own good . . . but now . . . now you're a good-looking man, not that boy I used to know."

"And you're more beautiful today than you were when we were still in high school," I looked into her eyes and my heart melted.

"Even if my tits are small and I've got funny-shaped eyes?"

"You have eyes?" I teased. She pinched me and we both giggled. Then she dug her fingers into my side and we both began to laugh.

It was one of those deep, hearty, cleansing laughs. One that seemed long overdue for her. I tickled her back, but not to be out done, she soon had me flipped over on my back.

Not that I was trying very hard, mind you, but she was the black belt and I wasn't.

Melanie settled down on top of me. My cock had never left her.

She leaned forward and fed one of her breasts to my hungry mouth.

"I love your tits," I managed to say between nibbles.

"You don't think they're too small?"

"I think they're perfect," I pushed her back enough to stare at her face, not her chest. 

"Then why did you spend half of high school with your eyeballs glued to Melinda Dransfield's chest?" she needled me. 

"Everyone spent high school staring at Melinda Dransfield's chest," I smacked her on the backside once for good measure.

"Don't start that if you're not going to deliver," she warned me playfully.

In the span of about two hours, from the beginning of our bath together until now, we had gone from being old friends to lovers and now . . . now I felt like we were becoming something more. Not just fuck buddies. Not just friends-with-benefits. 

Deep down, I hoped that there would be something more for us. 

We were developing a comfort zone with each other. I wanted to not only be naked for her physically, but emotionally as well. 

"Melanie, I'm going to have you begging for mercy here in a little bit," I taunted her back.

"Ooooh! I like the sound of that!" she cooed and a sultry look fell over her eyes. "Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks!"

"I'm gonna fuck your brains out," I pulled her down to me and thrust up into her at the same time.

"Then get fucking, Big Boy," she said. "You've got a lot of time to make up!"

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

My internal clock woke me up promptly at 6:30. I jerked awake in the bed. Melanie was gone.

Instantly I blinked back the sleep and in an irrational panic, my eyes darted around the room. Where had she gone?

At first, I thought to call her name, but I stopped when I saw her suitcase right where she had left it the night before. Her glasses were gone from the nightstand and the door to the outer room was closed.

I settled back into the pillows on the bed for just long enough to bring my heart rate down. I was still naked. The remnants of the previous night's lovemaking was matted against my groin. I'm sure my hair was a mess. My back was sore from where Mel's fingernails had dug into my skin. My shoulders and hips ached from their exertions.

And I wouldn't have traded that feeling for anything in the world. Except for maybe having Melanie Nakamura wake up in my arms.

It had been close to a year since I had sex. Taking a deep breath, I wondered what we were going to do now. I've never been a one-night stand kind of guy. The few relationships I've had were generally long-term. Never friends-with-benefits or just fucking. 

Melanie was the girl of my dreams. Not just because she was the prettiest girl in my school, but because of everything else: her brains, her willpower, her humour. Her looks were the icing on the cake, but as far as I was concerned, she was the whole package.

Just then, it dawned on me that maybe she was using me. I'm sure she could have had her pick of guys. So why not take pity on an old friend? It had been eighteen years—half a lifetime ago—since we had last seen one another. Who's to say that it wouldn't be that long again before our next meeting?

I rolled out of the bed and went to the closet. I pulled out a plush terrycloth robe and noticed that its mate was gone.

Very quietly, I opened the door and saw Melanie sitting in a chair by the window. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and was staring out into the darkness. 

She jumped slightly when I stepped out into the main room. She smiled timidly. She looked so beautiful. Her hair was pulled back. She didn't have any make-up on, not that she needed any. At least in my humble opinion. 

Once again, her eyes looked tired and worried. It was like she had to fight to smile.

"Good morning," I said softly. Wondering if our friendship was over.

She didn't reply, but when I sat down on the couch next to her, she slipped her hand into mine almost automatically.

The curtains were drawn just enough to see outside. From our room at the top of the hotel tower, we watched the city slowly coming to life. The sun's first rays were coming over the horizon. Already the airport support services were coming to life. Plows and blowers had cleared the tarmac. No new snow had fallen, although it still appeared to be bitterly cold outside.

We sat there for a little while. It seemed that she enjoyed the relative peace and quiet, and I wasn't about to disturb her.

"Do you ever second guess the decisions you made in your life?" she asked out of the blue.

I shrugged. "Not really."

"Why not? Don't you regret any of the bad choices you made?"

"Sometimes I wish I didn't have to learn things the hard way," I chose my words very carefully, wondering where she was going with this conversation. "But I'd like to think that each of the experiences in my life—good, bad or indifferent—has made me the person I am today. Yes, there are some things I wish I could take back, especially when I'd hurt someone's feelings, but each of those 'learning experiences'—'character-building' or whatever you want to call it—has contributed to me being me. And I like who I am."

The look she gave me was one of both curiosity and almost-grudging admiration. "That's very Zen of you."

"What about you?" I dared to inquire.

It was a moment before she replied. "Knowing what I know now, there are some things I wouldn't do again. But other things . . . it's more complicated." 

She paused to take a deep breath. "Like my husband . . . I wouldn't have married him again. But then again, he gave me the two most beautiful children in the world. I guess it's a package deal, huh?"

I squeezed her hand, mostly because I didn't know what else to do. It seemed that she was building up to something else. She forced herself to smile for me again.

"Kevin, I'm sorry for dumping this on you," Melanie said. "You know how people will meet someone on a plane or a cruise ship and jabber on and on and on? I feel like that's what I'm doing to you. And for that I'm sorry. We haven't seen each other for almost twenty years and here I am spilling my guts, making it all about me."

"If you want to talk, I'm always here for you," I said, almost naturally slipping back into the "friend zone".

"I appreciate that," this time her smile was genuine. She looked out the window once again, her mind drifting like the snow on the ground. She still hadn't let go of my hand. "Kev . . . I have a confession to make."

Once again, she drew in a deep breath. This time she held it before letting it out slowly.

"I'm not in banking," she said softly. There were tears in her eyes. "Not any more. When the industry imploded, I got let go. Not in the first round, but soon afterwards. That was almost five months ago. I was just divorced and living in a house I couldn't afford. My ex, well, he doesn't pay alimony because I always made more than him. In fact, if I hadn't been laid off, I'd be paying him palimony."

What do you say to that? I did the only smart thing and kept my mouth shut.

"They gave me a generous severance," Melanie continued, her voice quivering. She wouldn't look at me. "But that's gone now. I had to sell the house at a loss and move home with my folks. I was out in California for an interview . . . but there are way too many MBAs out there job hunting. I can't compete with kids who are ten years younger and don't have two children to feed."

I squeezed her hand again.

"Kev, I don't know what I'm going to do," she said softly. My heart broke as she began to cry. 

Melanie didn't resist as I lifted her out of the chair. We sat back on the couch. I pulled her to me. She buried her face in my shoulder and began to sob uncontrollably. 

I may be a guy, but the one thing I've learned about women is that sometimes they don't want you to talk. Guys are doers. We fix things. Even when all you girls want is to vent your feelings, we still feel like we should be doing something. There were a million things I wanted to say or suggest, but none of them were helpful to Melanie at that moment.

So I simply held her close. The tears rolled down her cheeks and into my bathrobe. 

Gently, I stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. I let her know that I was close. I pulled my arms around her as comfortingly as I could.

Several minutes later, her breathing became regular. She had curled up into the fetal position against me.

"I'm sorry, Kevin," she whispered, sitting up and wiping her eyes. "I didn't mean to unload all my crap on you."

"That's okay, Mel," I smiled. "I don't mind."

My arms were still around her shoulders. 

"Have you got anywhere to be by tomorrow?" I asked, a flash of inspiration coming to me.

She shook her head. "Just home to my kids. I'm a pretty boring person now. Being unemployed and living with your folks will do that. Mostly we just hang out at the Casa de Mel."

"Can they live without you for another day?"

"I guess," Melanie shrugged.

"Then let's spend another day here," I suggested. "My folks will wait. Besides, I'm sure we can milk the snowstorm for one more day."

"I don't know," she made a worried face.

"C'mon, Mel," I coaxed. "My treat."

"Kevin, I can't . . ." her voice trailed off and I could tell that she didn't want to come off like she was mooching off me. "You've already done so much."

"Then let me do some more," I said desperately. "Please, Mel, let's just spend another day together. Here. Just us. Doing nothing."

She didn't reply for a long time. "I'm so tired. So tired of being responsible. Of taking care of people. Of worrying."




Some Things Are Meant to Be



"Do you ever take care of yourself?"

The reply on her face told me everything. She looked at me like I was stupid. Her eyes said, Are you crazy? Do something for me? Not a chance!

I smiled softly. "You were always the strongest-willed girl in our class. You never settled for second place; you always wanted to win. It pissed you off to no end that Ajay edged you out for valedictorian by one one-thousandth of a point. You were always so independent."

Her drive was aging her beyond her years. And I could tell that deep down, she knew it.

"But running and running and running will burn you out," I ran my hands through her hair.

"I'm tired of being in charge all the time," she said quietly.

"Then today, you're not in charge," I told her. "I am. And the first thing you're going to do is call your parents and tell them that the snowstorm has tied up the airport and you're going to be another day late."

"But the kids—"

"Have been taken care of for the past three days," the tone in my voice brokered no discussion. "They'll be okay for one more. You have to trust me on this, Melanie."

There was a hesitant look in her eyes. As if she wasn't quite ready to give up control. 

With one fluid motion, I scooped her up in my arms. She let out a surprised yelp but didn't protest as I carried her back to the bedroom. I gently lay her on the bed, unplugged her cell phone and handed it to her. 

While she called home, I went into the outer room with my phone. The sun had just broken the horizon and it was a beautiful, if brisk, day outside. I called my folks, assured them I was fine and had found a room for another night. Then I called the ticket desk in the airport—not the airline's 800 number—and asked if we could postpone our flight.

The ticket agent sounded relieved; I guess they had overbooked the flight and by us staying another day, it meant there would be two fewer flyers getting pissed off when they were told they didn't have seats anymore. The woman on the other end of the line even refunded half of the points I had used to upgrade us to first class. Being nice counts for something, I guess.

My next call was to the front desk to book another night at the hotel and to order room service. I took care of some other business, then went back into the bedroom.

Melanie was still on the phone so I snuck by and went straight to the bathroom. She was speaking in Japanese and I didn't understand a word. Closing the door, I washed my face and brushed my teeth. Then I took a good look at myself in the mirror.

I wore a giant shit-eating grin that wouldn't leave my face. I've always thought that I've aged well, but I was never a prize. Not like Melanie. I guess I'm just an Average Joe. Hey, I'm a single guy who doesn't cook for himself much. I'm neither fat nor slovenly, but I'm not as thin as I used to be. My hairline has receded, but I'm not balding. I think I'm a good-looking guy; I'm certainly no Adonis, but I'm not Uncle Bubba either.

And I had just spent the night with Melanie Nakamura!

Very quietly, I opened the door just as she hung up her phone. She let out a deep sigh.

"How'd it go?" I asked casually.

"Okay, I guess," she replied. "They heard every airport on the eastern seaboard is delayed, so it was no surprise. I just hope they're okay with my kids for another day."

"I'm sure they'll be fine," I patted her shoulder gently. "Here's the deal, Mel: Today is all about you. I've already taken care of breakfast and I'll do the same for lunch and dinner. You are not to worry about money or jobs or kids or anything else. And don't even think about reaching for the check on anything. This morning, you get thirty minutes on the phone or computer to take care of your email or any other business and you get another half hour after lunch. Then we're turning our cell phones off and we're going to lounge around for the rest of the day. Understand?"

She nodded reluctantly.

I started to say something else, but there was a knock on the door. I took a couple of dollars out of my wallet then greeted room service.

They wheeled a cart into the room and began setting the table. I had ordered a light breakfast spread and fresh flowers. I tipped them generously then called Melanie out.

We sat down at the small table, me pushing her chair in behind her. I pulled the curtains back, letting the morning light brighten the room. The two of us ate quietly. The food was fresh and better than I expected.

After breakfast, we took a shower together. I washed her body and she did the same. My hands lingered on her more than they probably should have, but she didn't seem to mind. She certainly did her share of exploring me.

Once cleaned, we went back to the bedroom. Neither of us bothered to dress. Melanie still looked tired, but some of the stress lines were gone. I set the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door and we crawled into the plush, king-sized bed. 

I protectively wrapped my arms around her. She nuzzled up to my neck. Soon enough, she fell asleep. As I listened to the rhythmic sounds of her breathing, I wondered if there was any future for us.

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

The next time I woke up, Melanie was still in the bed. I was laying flat on my back, snoring like there was no tomorrow. She was curled up in the crook of my arm, her head on my shoulder. Her body felt so warm against me.

Blinking my eyes open, I saw that she was awake. Her hand rested on my chest.

"Have a nice nap?" she smiled.

"Yes," I replied. "You?"

"You make a very good pillow," she kissed me gently on the cheek.

"Even if I snore?"

"Yes, Kev, even when you snore," she giggled.

I pulled her close and brought her lips to mine. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Her lips were soft. Neither of us made any move, but I couldn't ignore the fact that her naked breasts were pressed against my chest.

My cock started to get hard until I looked over at the clock.

She looked puzzled when I pulled away and put my bathrobe on.

A question was on her lips when there was a knock on the door.

I tossed her the other robe and went to let our guests in.

Two women entered the room carrying portable massage tables. I greeted them and they began setting up in the outer room. 

Melanie curiously emerged from the bedroom, her eyes wide at my surprise. The masseurs laid us face down on the tables and put towels over our naked bodies.

The next hour was the most relaxing of my life. Melanie was right next to me. We even held hands for part of the time. From the grunts and groans I could tell she enjoyed it, too. The two women worked us over good, from head to toe. At the end of the session, I paid them in cash and added a generous gratuity. They packed up their tables and were gone, leaving Melanie and I fully relaxed and covered in oil.

I led her to the shower and once again we washed each other. This time we made out and our touches weren't just playful.

My hands lingered on her breasts. She seemed obsessed with my ass. When we were clean—again—we dried each other off, then I took her hand and drew her down to the bed.

"When was the last time you had a good massage?" I asked.

"Too long ago," there was a contented smile on her face.

"I'm going to make sure this was the best one you ever had," I said.

"How are you going to do that?" Melanie teased. "Jenn was pretty good!"

"She didn't finish you off with the happy ending," I kissed her behind the ear. Melanie groaned.

I kissed her. Not so gently this time. The hunger had returned to both of us. Her hands roamed my body. I cupped her breasts.

Leaving a sloppy trail across her cheek, I sucked on her ear then made my way down her neck.

Melanie squealed with delight when I got to her collarbone. She cried out when I raked her nipples with my teeth.

In anticipation, she started to grind her hips against me.

Oh, how I wanted to thrust forward just a little bit and enter her!

But I didn't. Once her nipples were both nice and hard, I nibbled my way down her belly. She laughed with pleasure when my teeth hit her ribs in just the right way.

Her fingernails dug into my scalp when I got to her bellybutton. Her breaths came shorter when my lips brushed against her hip.

Melanie spread her legs.

With a first, tentative lick, I pressed my tongue against her labia. Then I ran it up from the slit of her opening all the way up to her neatly trimmed pubic hair.

"Oh, Kevin!" she moaned.

Then I went back for more.

She let out a series of soft gasps each time I made a pass at her.

"Oh, god!" she ran her hand through my hair. "You're really eating me! Oh, that feels so good!"

I sucked her clit into my mouth, flicking it back and forth with my tongue.

My hands went under her and cupped her perfect little ass.

"Right there!" Melanie thrust her hips forward and pulled me to her at the same time.

With my tongue, I alternated pushing it into her pussy like a mini-cock and swirling around her clit. 

She tasted so sweet. I looked up and saw her eyes were closed. Her teeth clenched. 

Every muscle in her body seemed to be drawn taut. Her breasts stuck straight up on her chest. Her nipples were rock-hard little points.

"Eat me, Kev . . . Eat my pussy," she chanted over and over.

I swallowed her juices down. She bucked against my mouth.

Her legs started to shake and I knew she was close. I set her back down on the bed and got up on my knees, my mouth never leaving her delicious little pussy.

Melanie threw her head back into the pillows. Her hands began to claw around until they grasped on to the comforter.

Right when the orgasm was about to hit her, I thrust two fingers into her pussy. Simultaneously, I reached up and pinched one of her nipples.

The three sensations: my fingers inside her, my tongue on her pussy and the sting on her nipples pushed her over.

With a shriek of pure ecstasy, her body seemed to explode. She convulsed and moaned.

"I'm cumming!" she cried. Still, I didn't let up. "Oh, god . . . ohgodohgod! . . . Kev . . . I'm still cumming!"

Her pussy flooded with warmth. Soon my mouth was covered with her nectar. My fingers were slippery.

Melanie had bitten her lip so hard it was bleeding a little.

I let her down slowly, until she was only shaking from head to toe. When it seemed that her orgasm had passed, I gave her lovely little clit one final kiss then withdrew my hand from her pussy. I kissed my way back up to her.

When I was on her neck, she grasped me by the hair and pulled my mouth to hers.

"Oh, Kevin," she sighed contentedly. "That was so good . . . You don't know how much I needed that . . ."

The two of us lay there for a long time, holding one another.

"Make love to me," she whispered. Even with the short break for Melanie to catch her breath, my cock was hard almost instantly. 

I mounted her and slipped into her. She was tight from her recent orgasm, but she spread her legs and once I got the head of my cock into her, she was so slick the rest of me sank in easily.

She gasped when I bottomed out. I held myself like that before slowly and gently making love to her.

Neither of us was in any hurry. Neither of us spoke.

We kissed gently. We moved our hips in perfect time. We explored each other with our hands. We covered one another in sweet kisses.

Her perfect little breasts pressed against me.

I looked down at Melanie's angular features. Her eyes were closed. She looked so beautiful. So perfect. Just as I had imagined for all these years.

As we made love, for the first time it seemed as if she was in the moment. She wasn't worried about money. She wasn't worried about her kids. She started to grind her clit against the top of my cock. She nibbled on my collarbone. 

She was fully and completely making love back to me.

I lost track of time as our bodies seemed to melt together. Several times, I brought myself just to the brink of orgasm, then backed down. When I started to feel that little tingle begin in my balls, I slowed my pace and waited for the moment to pass. Then I gradually started over.

When we couldn't take it any longer, Melanie whispered in my ear, "Cum inside me, Kevin. I want you to cum with me."

Our lips met and didn't part until we were both consumed with passion. It wasn't one of those mind-blowing, Jesus-take-me-now, scream-and-wake-the-neighbours orgasms. Rather, it was intense without being overpowering. 

It seemed to go on and on and on. 

Both of us cried out. Our eyes met just as the cum hit us. We rode it out together, then I collapsed into her arms. 

And there we lay for a long time. Eventually, we feel asleep holding one another.

Content. Happy. Fulfilled.

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

We spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled up in the bed. I found out she was a post-coital conversationalist. My theory is that the endorphins in her brain triggered by sex also caused her to forget about her worries. 

The two of us relived some of our high school days and talked about our lives currently.

I confessed the crush I had on her since about 7th grade. She wished she had spent more time with her friends than studying. We laughed as we shared our memories and wistfully talked about our dreams. Our conversation wandered, eventually turned to sex. I was, after all, still inside her.

"So what's one of your sexual fantasies?" she asked.

"A three-way with you and Melinda Dransfield," I braced myself for the barrage of tickling and pinching.

"It's the tits, isn't it?" Although there was a teasing tone in her voice, I also detected a hint of insecurity.

"Not really," I shrugged. Melinda was never the prettiest girl in our class. But she was the sexiest. Well, the second-sexiest. Very quickly, I changed the subject. "What about you? What's one of your sexual fantasies?"

Melanie thought very hard before answering. "I want to be taken. Hard. I don't want to be dominated . . . not in an S&M kind of way."

She paused to take a deep breath.

"My ex . . . he never made love to me," she winced. "He would fuck me. He never seemed like he really wanted to be with me. And he was never worried about me . . . sexually, ya'know? It's like when you make love to me, I can feel that you want me to cum . . . I know that you're not in it just to blow your wad inside me . . . And when you ate me out . . . He never did that."

I cradled her close to me. In that moment, I wanted to profess my undying love for her. To proclaim that I never wanted to let her go. 

But I didn't.

Part of me was afraid of scaring her off. Another part knew that she needed to talk this out.

"I told you I was a virgin when I got married, right?" There was another flash of insecurity in her eyes. "I was saving myself . . . because that's what my parents said good Japanese girls did . . . I went out with a couple of guys in college. I was serious with a few of them. We were 'everything but' couples. But I never went all the way because I didn't want to disappoint my future husband."

Ever so gently, I rolled off of Melanie and on to my back. She instinctively fell into the crook of my arm, her head on my shoulder. I could feel her breath on my chest.

"I always fantasised about being swept off my feet," she continued. "I wanted everything to be perfect. But it wasn't. My ex . . . he's a good father, and a pretty good guy. He was responsible and held a job and his only real vice is golf. I did stuff with a couple of my college boyfriends, and let them do stuff to me. I guess that's why I was so disappointed when I got married. I thought every guy knew some of the things they did to me."

"Like what?" I dared to ask.

Melanie blushed and her face got a dreamy smile. "One guy used to love to go down on me. He'd eat me out for hours at a time. And I had a gay boyfriend who taught me how to really suck a cock!"

"You learned from a pro, huh?" I laughed. She giggled and I kissed her on the forehead.

"I like not being in charge," she said softly. "I don't want to be raped or anything like that. But I want a guy who is masculine and in control. A guy who is out to satisfy us both."

What would you say if the girl of your dreams said those words to you? I decided to go the safe route and not say anything at all. Instead, I pulled her close to me. Lifting her chin, I brought her lips to mine and kissed her gently.

She wrapped her arms around me and we cuddled for a little while longer.

Melanie looked over at the clock. The afternoon was gone. I wished that the time had not passed so quickly, yet I would not have traded this day for anything. She patted me on the chest then sat up.

"Let's get something to eat," she said as I admired her still-naked body. "Oh, and Kevin . . . I don't blame you for wanting to get your hands on Melinda Dransfield's boobs, they're very nice."

Stunned, it took me a minute to respond. "And how would you know that?"

"We were in gym class together, remember?" she teased. "You know what else?"

"What?" I wondered just what other secrets she held behind those pretty brown eyes.

"You eat pussy almost as well as she does."

My lover slipped off the bed, skillfully evading my fumbling grasp.

"She what?!?!?!"

Retreating into bathroom, her smile was from ear to ear. She blew me a kiss. "Girl secrets, Kev! Girl secrets!"

"You're killing me, Mel!"

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

The two of us sat in the same booth as the night before. There were fewer patrons tonight. With the worst of the storm passed, most of those stranded by the storm had already passed on to their next destination. We sat opposite each other looking over the menu.

"What do you see that you like?" I asked.

My companion shrugged. "Maybe the lamb shank . . . or the calamari. Seafood is always good. What about you?"

I took a sip of my water as the server returned to the table. 

"Have you decided on dinner?" he asked.

"I think so," I said before Melanie could reply. Her eyes got wide when I ordered for both of us. "We'd like to start with the fried calamari appetizer . . . She will have the seared sea scallops over polenta. I'll try the langoustine in cream sauce with angel hair pasta."

"Excellent choices," the server said. "Would you like to order off the wine menu as well?"

"Yes," I flipped to the white wine section. "I think we'd like to have a bottle of the pinot grigio."

"Very good," he took our menus and then disappeared.

Melanie still looked a little shocked. "What was that all about?"

"I told you earlier: You're not in charge today, Melanie," I said firmly. "I am."

Two conflicting looks flashed in her eyes. One was the part that wanted to be in control. I could tell that was the side of her that had ruled her life since she was about four. But then there was the other side. The more romantic side.

Listen, I'm all about gender equality. But there's also a part of me that likes—no, wants—to be the knight in shining armour. Chivalry isn't dead; it just needs a little updating. I believe that women want that, too. They don't want someone to control them. They don't want to be told what to do.

However, I think that all women sometimes want someone who will take care of them. Not wait on them hand and foot. Not hold things over them. And not even every day. But every now and then, I think women want someone who can anticipate their desires and wants, and knows what they need.

In the maelstrom that was her life, at that moment, I think Melanie Nakamura needed someone to take care of her. Someone to take all of the worry out of her life. Someone to make things happen for her. Someone who only wanted the best for her.

And I'd like to think that in that moment, that person was me.




Some Things Are Meant to Be



For just a second, I worried that I had overstepped my bounds, but her appreciative smile allayed all my fears.

We enjoyed another dinner together. I carefully steered our conversation away from the "forbidden" topics: kids, jobs, and money. We instead talked sports, current events, fashions and even a little politics. After the day's earlier massage and sex—and with a little wine added in at dinner—it seemed that Melanie had fully loosened up for me.

Throughout the meal, I found my fingers intertwined with hers. Several times, I found her foot rubbing up against my calf. She seemed flirtatious and care-free. 

The food was excellent, made even better by my company, and we declined dessert. Arm in arm, I led her back to our room. No sooner were we through the door than she was all over me.

Melanie's touch seemed desperate. A trail of clothes littered the floor to the bedroom.

I pushed her up against the door frame. Our tongues dueled. I pressed my body against hers. I felt those glorious little breasts against my chest.

Her hands ran through my hair. I cupped her face and looked into her eyes. She stared back lovingly at me.

"Mel," I whispered. "I—"

"Shhhhhh." She put her finger on my lips. I think she sensed what I was going to say. Then she pulled me to her again.

Again our bodies seemed to melt into one. I kissed my way down her neck. She squealed with delight when I hit one of those spots.

My hard cock was pressing against her belly. She giggled as I blindly humped against her, the head desperately trying to find the slit of her pussy.

She wrapped her arms around my neck as I slipped my hands under her perfect ass. She lifted up and started to grind her hips against me.

Our dance continued until I felt her warmth around me. I let out a groan of pure bliss as she sank down on to me.

"Oh, Kevin," she moaned in my ear. "You feel so good inside me!"

I wanted to say something but words failed me. I gave her a few soft strokes then felt her lift her legs. She wrapped them around my waist.

"Take me to the bed and make love to me," she nibbled on my ear lobe.

Even though she wasn't supposed to be in charge, who was I kidding? She had me wrapped around her little finger, even as her pussy was wrapped around my tumescent sex.

Melanie continued to grind her hips against me as I carried her to the bed. As gently as I could, I lay her down beneath me.

She spread her legs so she could take as much of me inside her as she could. I gave her a series of slow strokes, pulling back until I was almost out of her, then gently pushing back in until I could go no further.

"God, you're so big, Kevin," she gasped.

I leaned in to kiss her. "Statistically, I think I'm about average."

Melanie smiled dreamily. "Well, compared to my ex, you're fucking huge."

Yeah, I know, it's a cheap thrill to hear that your dick is bigger than another guy's, but hey, who am I to turn down a compliment?

"I love it when you talk dirty," I kissed her in reply.

"Then fuck the shit out of me!"

"Fuck you where?" I broke my pace and thrust into her as hard as I could.

Whatever she had to say was lost in her gasp, so I did it again.

"Fuck . . . my . . . pussy!" she cried between strokes.

Obediently, I began to pound into her. With each thrust she cried out, a little louder each time.

Her fingernails dug into my shoulders. I bit her right behind the ear, drawing a surprised—but enthusiastic—yelp. She responded by sucking on my collarbone almost until it hurt.

Yeah, that left a mark.

I lifted her leg until her calves were resting on my shoulders. By now, I was confident of what I could do without hurting her, so I started to thrust harder and harder.

In this position, I could no longer kiss her. Instead, with her body nearly bent in half, Melanie's eyes met mine. Her hands locked behind my neck.

Her cries continued as I mercilessly rammed my cock in and out of her tight little pussy. "Fuck me, Kevin!"

Beneath me, I watched Melanie Nakamura's petite body. Writhing in ecstasy. Her breasts jiggled with each thrust. Her mouth fell open every time I filled her up. 

Melanie's eyes were hooded over with desire. I lost myself in those brown, almond-shaped eyes.

She was a trooper; her body absorbed every blow. I never let up as she begged for more. Harder. Faster.

All of my pent-up desire. Eighteen years of fantasies. Half a lifetime of longing. 

I drove it all into Melanie with my cock.

She couldn't move. I had her knees pinned back against her chest. Her rear end was lifted up off the bed to meet my thrusts.

"Oh, Kevin," her voice was little more than a whisper. Her entire body was shaking. Her cries subsided, but I could feel her passion was no less intense. She bit her lip. "I'm cumming, Kevin . . . Please cum with me . . ."

I was determined not to stop until Melanie was unconscious, but when I felt her pussy contract around me and flood with warmth, I knew I couldn't hold it much longer.

"Please, Kevin," Melanie wailed, her voice quivering. 

Still I drove my cock inside her like a madman. Her pussy gripped me like a vice. 

Melanie threw her head back and let out an ear-splitting scream. That sent me over the edge. I rammed her one final time and then the tingling started in my toes. It shot throughout my body.

All I could hear was the blood pounding through my veins. The room started to spin. 

Her fingernails dug into my shoulders.

The head of my cock flared within her, our cum mixing together.

Her body fell limp. I collapsed on top of my lover. Tears ran down her cheeks.

I may have been out for a few minutes. Or maybe just a few seconds.

Lifting myself up, I saw that Melanie's eyes had rolled back into her head. Her chest gently rose and fell.

Brushing her hair out of her face, I caressed her soft skin. She seemed to smile at my touch. I never wanted to leave her. And not just because I was between her legs.

Our bodies were covered in sweat. I kissed her once on the lips, then regretfully withdrew from Melanie's heavenly presence.

Trying not to wake my lover, I pulled the covers back and lay Melanie in the center of the bed. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful.

I went through the suite, turned out all the lights and drew the curtains. Melanie stirred as I slipped in next to her.

With my arm around her, she seemed to naturally fit right up against me, her head resting on my shoulder. Melanie's breath was cool against my bare skin.

Before I drifted off to sleep, I kissed her once more on the top of her head, then whispered my deepest, darkest secret. "I love you, Melanie Nakamura. I have been in love with you since the day we met."

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

"So what do we do now?" I dared to ask.

Melanie and I were still curled up in bed. Our flight would be leaving in a couple of hours. For the second time in three days, I woke up to the smell of Melanie's pretty dark hair. Only this time, we were both naked.

We both reeked of sex. She absently ran her hand across my chest. Her fingernails made my skin crawl.

"I don't know, Kevin," she replied. "I don't even know what I'm going to do now."

"Things will work out," I was trying my best not to let her slip back into her old, worried self.

"That's easy for you to say," she sighed. "You've got a job."

"Can I call you later this week?" I probed.

"How long are you going to be in town?" she asked. "Don't you have to be back to work on Monday?"

Oh, shit, I thought. My lie is unraveling.

"Actually, Mel," I said sheepishly. I hoped she wouldn't mind one little white lie. "I don't have to be anywhere. I'm not really employed either."

"What?!?!" her eyes got wide.

"I, uh . . . I'm not really a community college professor, although I teach sometimes at the local community college. Not this semester, though," my palms began to sweat. "I do have a Ph.D. in history."

"Then what do you do?" she asked. I couldn't tell if she was more curious about the truth or ticked off at me for lying to her.

Nervously, I licked my lips before continuing. "When I was a senior at Guildford, me and my roommate wrote a computer program that became the Citadel game engine. The early version wasn't a very good program, but after graduation, we sold it to one of the premier game developers in Silicon Valley. They tweaked it and made it better; there are versions still in use today in some of the first-person shooters played on computers and consoles. I'm still collecting residuals."

Melanie's jaw hung open in disbelief.

"With some of the money, me and another classmate started one of those mid-90s dot-coms and made a killing on our IPO," I continued. "We wrote a couple of database programs and were living it up for about three years. I sold my half of the company at just the right time; it folded when the market bottomed out, but I did pretty well. I decided to use some of the money to help other people."

Still unable to speak, Melanie continued to stare at me dumbfounded.

"Now, I run a foundation that gives cars to kids who want to go to college or venture capital to people who want to start a small business," I said. "If a kid—regardless of their financial situation—gets a free ride scholarship to any college, from the local state school to Columbia U., I buy them a pretty nice car. As long as they keep the scholarship, they keep the car. If a kid gets out of high school and doesn't want to go to college, I have them submit a business plan; if I like it, I loan the kid some start-up cash. If he or she shows a progressively increasing profit for five years, I forgive the loan."

The cross look was fading from her face. "So why make up that other story?"

"Because when women find out what I really do, I worry that they'll be after me only for my money," I confessed. "Nobody thinks community college teachers are rich."

"Is that what you thought about me?" she looked hurt, and I couldn't blame her.

"I didn't know what to think," I said, realising I was going to have to dig myself out of a hole. "We hadn't seen each other since graduation. You were voted 'most likely to succeed'—"

That drew a scoff from her.

"—And I just didn't want you to think . . . I hoped you liked me for me." I steeled myself for her to launch into an angry tirade about how I didn't trust her enough with the truth or thinking that she was some kind of golddigger. To her credit, she never asked how much I was worth.

"I do like you, Kevin," she said softly. There was a dejected tone in her voice. She rolled out of my arms on to her back. We lay side by side for what seemed like an eternity before she finally spoke. "You have become quite a catch. And not because of your money. It's just . . ."

"It's just what?" I asked as her voice trailed off.

She sighed bitterly. "It's not you—"

Oh, crap! I thought, Not the "It's not you, it's me" speech.

"I'm not in a good place right now," she said. "And it's not about the money for me, either. Being unemployed has actually been a blessing in disguise. I'm spending time with my family and my children. I'm actually talking to my ex-husband again. Getting canned from my job hurt my pride; it's humiliating to apply for unemployment and lose your house and have to move back in with your folks . . . but I know that I'll land on my feet. The economy may be in the dumps now, but it will come back around; it always does."

I wanted to interrupt her, but this was something she needed to say.

"You don't want me right now, Kev," Melanie reached over and took my hand. "I'm divorced with two kids. I'm not the same girl I was when we saw each other the last time. I'm—"

"No, Melanie," I interrupted; I couldn't help it. "You're more beautiful now. And you're still the girl of my dreams. You always were. We could—"

"Kevin," her tone was unmistakably firm. She was back in control. My heart started to pound. I knew she was slipping away from me. "I'm not ready. Not now."

My hands were shaking. I was grateful that she was letting me down gently.

"Tell me something," a sultry tone had crept back into her voice. She rolled over on her side and caressed my cheek. "If I told you that I wanted to wake up next to you every day, what would you do?"

"Fly us to Vegas and get married tonight," I blurted out.

"I know you would," the sad look re-appeared in her eyes. "And it would be oh-so-tempting to let you. But that wouldn't be right. I couldn't use you like that. You deserve better."

She stopped and rolled to the other side of the bed. Melanie reached into her purse and drew out a picture of her and two beautiful children.

"These are Toby and Emily," she said, her voice filling with pride. "They're the center of my life right now. I'm not . . . I don't know that I'm ready for another relationship right now. I can't move them again; not twice in one year."

I wanted to say so many things right then. I wanted to proclaim my eternal—and apparently unrequited—love for her right there. But I didn't. I clammed up. 

As my hopes for our relationship were clouded by my teenage lust, Melanie's vision of her life was driven by her emotional hurt, dire financial straits and her love for her children. There was no arguing with that, and I knew it.

"Kevin," she lifted my chin and brought my lips to hers. "You have always been the best friend I could have asked for. And maybe one day there might be a future for us. But not today. Maybe in six months. Maybe a year. I just don't know. I'm sorry."

There was no mistaking the disappointment on my face. I guess my karma was up. The fates are fleeting; I'll give them that. 

What convergence of events had brought us together? Was it fate? Destiny? Coincidence? Circumstance? Or was it something bigger that's just out of our hands?

Over the past three days, I couldn't help but think that our meeting was somehow meant to be. I guess not. When I was eighteen, I made a deal with God that I would do anything to have one night with Melanie Nakamura. I guess He was in a generous mood; I got three.

"Besides," she continued, sensing that I was on the verge of bursting into tears, "I have to slowly prepare my parents for the day when I bring a white guy home."

Both of us let out a nervous chuckle. I pulled her close to me, cherishing the feel of her soft skin against me.

We lay there for a long time. When we could stall no longer, we slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom. The two of us took one more indulgent shower together. My hands roamed her body and hers mine.

I tried not to come off as desperate. I savoured every curve of her body. I wanted the memory of her touch to stay with me forever.

Eventually, the time came for us to go. I packed everything I had into my backpack and laptop bag. Melanie gathered her things into her carry-on suitcase.

As we walked down the hallway, she surprised me by taking my hand. I wondered if it was out of pity, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

We checked out of the hotel, then picked up our boarding passes and went through security. An hour later, we were in the air, heading home.

Neither of us spoke much. My hand never left hers. I knew we only had a few more minutes together. 

"Are you sure I can't call you this week?" I asked, trying not to look like my heart was broken. The plane was about to land. "Can I at least buy you dinner one night?"

"You've bought me more dinners in the past three days than anyone has in the last six months," Melanie said appreciatively. "I've got your cell; why don't we see how things work out."

Very non-committal. My stomach churned. And not because the landing was a little rough.

I walked down the jetway, my laptop bag in one hand, Melanie's delicate fingers in the other. The silence between us was deafening.

When we approached the security gate, she stepped to the side of the terminal. She tugged on my hand, closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

We kissed gently. It didn't seem like it was "good-bye" but nor was it as passionate as the day before.

With one last resigned sigh, I tried to smile. 

"Thank you for everything, Kevin," she said, not wanting to hurt my feelings any more.

What was I to expect? She had only asked for no-frills, friends-with-benefits, wild monkey-love sex. It was me who wanted more. Could I really hold that against her?

It was all I could do not to become a pathetic, begging fool right there, but I somehow found my pride and walked out of the terminal with Melanie at my side.

We turned the corner past the security checkpoint and I immediately saw my parents waving. I smiled and waved back.

"I'll see you around, Kevin," Melanie said softly. She reached out and squeezed my hand, then turned quickly and walked away before I could stop her.

My eyes were fixed on her bouncing pony tail as she made her way towards the parking garage. She never looked back. 

I couldn't bring myself to move until my folks enveloped me in one of those big parental bear hugs. I blinked away the self-pity and put on my best smile.

"Hey, there, son," my father slapped me on the back. "Who was your friend? . . . Was that Melanie . . . Oh, drat! What was her name? . . . Melanie Nakamura? She looks great—"

Dad prattled on as he tends to do when he's excited.

"She's Melanie Koizumi now," I said under my breath.

"—I can't believe how long it's been. You used to have the biggest crush on her," he continued to ramble.

My mother took her turn to embrace me. Mom whispered so softly only I could hear. "It looks like you still do."

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

"Hey, Kevin! Kevin Westcott!" 

My head shot around at the sound of the voice. A man was sitting at a table outside of TGI Friday's and waving. As soon as I recognised him, my face broke into a wide smile. I hopped off the moving walkway, trying not to spill the bottle of water I held in one hand and the triple-mocha de-caff latte in the other.

He stood and held out his arms. I gave the slightly pudgy and balding man a warm, brotherly hug. 

"Well, I'll be damned!" I exclaimed. "Darren Copeland! How the hell are ya?"

"Look who else is here," he pointed to his companion at the table. I could only laugh.

Save me, Kevin, the look in Melanie's eyes pleaded. Save me or I will kill you.

"Can I buy you a beer?" he asked, motioning to one of the empty chairs at the table. Darren graduated with us. Like Melanie and I, he was one of our gifted-class brethren. I had kept up with him for a couple of years after graduation; like me, he went into computer programming where he made a bunch of money in the mid-90s then got a job teaching at Georgia Tech. Last I checked, he was assistant dean in the College of Computing. Although we had spoken a couple of times and exchanged emails with reasonable frequency, I hadn't seen him since graduation, just over nineteen years past.

I half-expected to run into him at our upcoming 20th reunion the next June, but not in an airport somewhere.

"No, thanks," I set my things down on the table. If Melanie couldn't have a drink, she'd never forgive me if I had a beer or two.

"What are you doing here?" Darren asked. He obviously had a couple of lagers in him already.

"I'm on the way to Ft. Lauderdale," I said. "Got a big Caribbean cruise coming up."

"Say, Melanie, aren't you going to Ft. Lauderdale, too?" our friend slurred. Maybe he was too far gone to put two and two together.

Melanie only gave him a half-amused nod.

"Well, here's to you, Kevin," Darren raised his half-empty glass of beer and winked. "The luckiest game designer on the east coast; that contract was mine¸ you know! And to the prettiest girl in the Class of 1991: Melanie Nakamura."  




Some Things Are Meant to Be



"Man, I didn't know you bought this system. It's one of the very best we've ever sold," he assured me.

I laughed as I handed him his beer and informed him that I hadn't bought it at Audioland.

"Why not," he asked?

"Because, even with Audiomart's discount to salesmen, I could get it for hundreds less through a dealership that loves to undercut Audiomart's prices," I responded. "In fact, I also bought a small bedroom TV there."

"You know you're biting the hand that feeds you, don't you," he said rather critically.

I paused and then told him, "If they paid better, and didn't expect so much for what little they do pay, I might feel bad about it. I don't, however, so let's not go there any further. Drink up and let's enjoy the evening."

Before any more could be said, someone else was knocking on our door. I excused myself to welcome them. Bill started walking toward the kitchen area saying something about giving himself the free tour of our house. I didn't say any more to him as I walked to the door.

It was not long before everyone had arrived. They were all milling around, trying to get familiar with their surroundings. Soon it seemed that everyone was trying to talk over everyone else while they munched on the hors d'oeuvre. 

I was glad for the chance to go outside to take care of the frankfurters and burgers on the grill. The noise everyone was making didn't really bother me, however, because I knew they were having a good time and that was the purpose for the party. With the beer flowing, and the byo liquor being freely poured, the party was getting into high gear quickly. 

As I stood outside flipping burgers, I happened to look into the window of our kitchen. What I saw surprised me. There was my wife laughing and having a very lively conversation with none other than Bill.

My wife is a great conversationalist, so that didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was that she was having this energetic conversation with a man she had so much as said that she despised not forty-five minutes before. I just shook my head and went back to minding the burgers. It crossed my mind that Bill the Salesman is proving once again that he can win over just about anyone.

With so many guests milling in and out of our house the AC had been turned off and we had opened all the windows. When the meat was ready to serve, I got everyone's attention with my loud, shrill whistle, which could be heard inside as well as outside. Then I announced that the meat was ready and they should come get it. 

I stood patiently watching everyone exit our house to line up on the patio. I also noticed as Bill and Colleen walked out that they were still talking. So I looked specifically at her when I again asked for everyone's attention. She didn't seem to notice.

I took the next few moments to tell everyone how glad I was that they had come to share this time together. There was a loud "Here! Here!" from the crowd when I held up my can of beer as a toast to all eighteen people gathered on my patio. Then I gave instructions as to how they should proceed through the line. Finally, I shouted, "Dig in!" and I moved to get out of their way.

*****

Time passed quickly because everyone seemed to be having so much fun getting to know one another. It was 9:33 PM when I looked at the outside clock. "Wow, time has really passed quickly tonight," I said to myself. Everyone had eaten well and, even though the drinking was beginning to concern me, I felt that it had been a good party. 

A few of the college couples had just excused themselves, thanked me for our hospitality and headed home. Some of the remaining couples were still dancing to the music playing through my outside speakers. Still others were telling stories about interesting, funny and embarrassing things that had happened in the process of trying to sell electronics to less-than-informed customers. Their stories, and the embellishments thereof, had become a contest to see who could tell the most outrageously humorous story. As is often the case, the first liar didn't have a chance. I was happy to see that Mike and Becky were spending quite a bit of time with each other and interacting as a couple with others. 

As I looked around at the different groups I realized that Colleen and Bill were not a part of any of the groups. I had spent the evening taking care of guests, helping out where needed, and trying to interact with as many people as I could so I had not kept tabs on them. When I located Colleen I saw that she was with Bill again. It appeared to me that he was telling her something very interesting because they seemed to be in their own little world. I tried to remember whether or not I had seen them interact with anyone else all evening. I could only recall a couple of times that I saw them apart. By now they were over by the edge of the patio by themselves, so I decided to go over. 

As I approached, apprehension welled up inside me because, as if on signal, they stopped talking to each other and Colleen abruptly turned and asked me, "How's it going, Ed?" 

I thought to myself, "That's a rather odd question." I knew she hadn't seen me coming so I presumed that Bill had warned her. I responded a bit sarcastically, "That's my question for you guys. What's happening in your small circle of friends?"

"Oh, nothing much," Colleen replied. "Bill was just telling me about his life in South Africa, and about his experiences while in medical school. In spite of what you've told me about him, I think he's a very interesting guy, Ed." They both chuckled at her brashness. Bill still hadn't said anything and I just stood there momentarily wondering what would be appropriate for me to say next.

Finally, I said, "Well, I'm glad you find him interesting. What about your other friends, Colleen, don't you find them interesting anymore?" Then I glared directly at her and turned to talk to someone else. 

As I turned, I heard Bill ask what I meant by my last remark, and Colleen responded, "I guess he wants me to interact with some of the others."

"That's too bad," said Bill. "What do you want to do?"

I didn't hear the rest of the conversation because I had put too much distance between us by then.

I must admit that I was a bit miffed that my wife had spent the majority of the evening talking to Bill. As I recalled, I had seen them both going into and coming out of the house together one time. I also had seen them a couple of times separately. Other than those times, I couldn't remember seeing them doing anything but talk to one another.

It was obvious to me that there was an attraction between them because no one else had been as important to Colleen during this evening as Bill had been. That made me very curious. After all, some of the people at the party had been in our home before and the women were more than passing friends of Colleen's. It amazed me that she seemed to be rather indifferent to their presence as she continued to talk with Bill. It wasn't long before something happened to really set me off.

At 10:00 PM I suggested that it was time for the party to begin winding down. I offered all who needed it to get a cup and get some black coffee from the kitchen. I also offered to call a taxi for all who didn't feel that they could make it on their own. Only one couple admitted that they couldn't drive, so I asked again. When there were no more takers, I went into the house and dialed a local cab company, gave them my address and told them that a couple needed a ride home. The operator said that a cab was being dispatched even as we were speaking. I thanked him, hung up the phone and walked back out to the patio. 

As I exited, I looked around for Colleen again but couldn't find her. When I finally asked, one of the ladies, she said that Colleen had gone inside with Bill while I was on the telephone. I turned and went back inside also. 

I found them in the living room by the front door. Bill was holding both of Colleen's hands and I overheard her say, "Thanks so much for coming, Bill. Don't be a stranger. You're welcome to stop in again anytime." 

"Anytime," I asked myself? "Does she really mean anytime?" Well, that was really hard to swallow. Colleen had gone from despising him, to holding hands with him, and inviting him to return anytime in one short evening. I could hardly believe it. Bill quickly let go of her hands as I approached them. 

"Were you just going to leave without telling me? Some kind of friend you are. Spend the whole evening with my wife and then snub me when you leave." I tried to say it in a jesting manner but I was really pissed at both of them. 

"No," Bill lied, "I was going to come find you before I left."

They knew they had been caught committing a breach of etiquette, so I continued, "Sure you were, Billy boy. It certainly sounded like you were saying your final 'goodbyes' when I walked up. Am I wrong?"

"Hey, Sweetheart, don't make a big thing of it," Colleen interrupted. "You were busy and Bill said he needed to go. Maybe you've had a little too much to drink."

"I'm fine," I replied, as I walked away waving my hand in the air. Even though I was bigger than Bill, I didn't intend it to look like I was bullying him or trying to start an altercation before the evening ended, so I walked away, laughing as I went. Eventually everyone left except Becky and Mike.

I didn't want to take the time to delve into what had happened between Colleen and Bill, and I especially didn't want to discuss it in front of Mike and Becky, so I started the difficult task of cleaning up after our guests. There was a horrendous amount of work to do before we could go to sleep. 

Mike and I gathered up all the trash inside and outside and stashed it in the garage until it could be picked up on Monday. 

Becky pitched in and helped in the kitchen. 

During the hour that we spent cleaning, I noticed that Mike and Becky talked as they worked. They brought up funny things that had happened during the evening and I listened intently as they seemed to bond during their conversation. 

Colleen, the great conversationalist, hardly said anything. When she is silent it isn't necessarily golden. I could hardly wait to grill her about her evening because I was upset with her. She had rudely blown off her own friends and allowed a single male guest to occupy almost her entire evening. Something was going on and I planned to get to the bottom of it.

CHAPTER FOUR

As the door closed behind Mike and Becky, Colleen turned to me and said, "I do NOT want to talk about anything before going to bed. I am bone tired from all the work you put me through and I am in no mood to discuss anything you might have on your mind. Goodnight!" 

Wow! What a bold announcement. I wasn't going to take that from her. She wasn't going to treat our friends like she had without explaining why.

As she turned to walk away I could not resist asking, "You spend damn near four hours with another man and you cannot take a few minutes to tell me what's going on? When will be a good time for you?"

"I don't know," she responded. "Maybe never the way I feel now."

"Oh, we will talk about things, and it will be sooner rather than later," I retorted, "because I have questions galore, including some about how you could blatantly chose to ignore your many friends to spend the majority of this evening talking to a man you as much as said you despised when he arrived."

Tired or not, I had thrown down the gauntlet and her temper took over in self-defense. 

"You want to know why I enjoyed him so much? Isn't that what you're really asking? Okay, I'll tell you. I found him to be a unique and interesting gentleman, totally unlike the person you made him out to be. He has a great sense of humor. He's intelligent, well traveled, and has many interests. We talked about life and real feelings. He told me about his life and I shared with him about mine. We talked about my dreams and about what I had once wanted to accomplish. I even asked for his advice on several matters. Bill is guy who is sensitive and tuned into those around him and he was very helpful. We also talked about my disappointments, and that brings me around to you and me. 

All you and I talk about are your problems at work and how much time you have to spend just to keep your job. You constantly harp on your lack of sales, the petty little problems you deal with at the store, and how little money you're going to make this week and the next. I am beginning to find it hard to see you as anything but a failure. Sure, you won a few sales contests, but you are not supporting the family as you should and you don't seem to care. You could go back into teaching, but you won't, and I don't understand that about you.

Yes, I enjoyed Bill because talking with someone about something different for a change was refreshing. It helped me see the world from someone else's perspective. There's a lot more I could say but I won't. Suffice it to say, I had a wonderful evening up to a few minutes ago and I damn sure don't want you ruining what's left of it for me!

Now! Aren't you glad you poked me with your sharp little stick? You didn't expect all that to spill out, did you? Well, you asked for it! Goodnight!"

With that she turned and began walking up the stairs to our bedroom. 

I stood there stunned speechless! She may as well have said, "I met someone tonight who is everything you aren't and he pleases me a lot more than you," because that's what it sounded like to me. On the other hand, she virtually said my companionship and hard work was of no value. It was all very disarming.

I seldom have regrets but this is one time that I regretted inviting Bill into my home. At this point I saw him as a threat. He had become an interloper who had invaded the sanctity of my marriage. I have never wanted to kill anyone before, but the thought of seeing Bill in a casket crossed my mind. I wanted to strike out at him in the worst way. On a more rational note, I knew that I needed to get my head screwed on straight before it was too late and I hurt someone. Intuitively I knew that Bill reframed her thinking because none of this would have happened six hours ago.

I walked throughout the house and turned out the lights before going upstairs to our bedroom. Colleen was running the water in the bathroom so she didn't hear me come in or leave. I got my pajamas out of the chest and a change of clothing out of the closet for tomorrow. I walked out of our bedroom and went into the guest bedroom. 

I wondered if Colleen might come check on me but she didn't. I really wasn't surprised.

I lay in bed trying to figure out what had gotten into her? Why would she bring up the things she did and, seemingly, turn against me? I could only assume that Bill was somehow the impetus that drove her to say the things she had said. He had to have been involved in tripping something inside her. Why did I suddenly feel like the enemy?

It was obvious to me that Bill must have used his skills to qualify Colleen as an unhappy woman, married to someone who wasn't meeting her needs. He obviously had taken advantage of her unhappiness, as interlopers often do. For the first time in my married life, I became fearful of losing her. 

Sleep was a long time coming that night. 

CHAPTER FIVE

When I crawled out of bed Sunday morning I felt like I had never been there. Colleen was still sleeping soundly. I didn't bother making my bed. I dressed and left. I needed coffee and a decent breakfast to get me moving. 

Sundays were short days, 12:00 to 5:00 PM, so I knew I would be done by 6:00 PM. I really didn't want to face Colleen tonight because I wasn't convinced of how I wanted to handle what had happened. I didn't understand all that had happened, although I thought I had a good idea, and I didn't want to move in the wrong direction and make things worse. I had to know more before I decided what to do.

I felt like a failure. Bill had brought all those feelings out of her in a few hours; I had failed to fully understand what was going on in her head for well over a year. 

One of my greatest concerns was that we might get into a confrontation around the children. I was looking forward to spending time with them tonight and I hoped nothing would happen to mar our time together.

Sunday may have been a short day at the shop, but by the time I locked up it seemed like it had lasted an eternity. When I arrived home I found a note from Colleen saying that she had gone shopping and would pick up the children on her way home. I was pleased that she had considered it important to inform me of her intentions. I was also relieved that there was no immediate need for confrontation. While I waited, I went to the kitchen and found some leftovers from the party to warm up for dinner.

As I sat there eating and drinking a beer, I began to wonder if Colleen had really gone shopping, or could she be meeting Bill somewhere? Suddenly it came to me that I was facing a whole new realm of conscious thought. It had never occurred to me before that Colleen would be capable of such a thing because she was so dogmatic about her code of morality. After last night, however, I had my doubts that she could refuse someone like Bill. I wondered how far she might have gone with Bill had I not been there last night. Furthermore, if he was able to accomplish what he seemingly did in one evening, I wondered what he might be able to accomplish with her if he were given more time.

Just before 7:30 PM the garage door went up and I heard the car pull in. Our two children, Jill and Jack, came running into the house and jumped into my arms. We all hugged and they immediately launched into a conversation about their weekend. I listened intently, but I kept an eye on the door. I wanted to observe Colleen's face as she entered.

When she finally came in, she looked very down. I expected her to be carrying bags of groceries since she said she was going shopping. All she had was a small bag from Walgreen's. I watched as she walked by without looking at me and went to the stairs. She stopped momentarily to tell the children to get their pajamas on and get ready for bed. She also reminded them that tomorrow would be a school day. 

Bedtime for the children was 8:30 PM on school nights. She had to get them up at 6:30 AM so she could get them and herself ready for school each day. After they wound down a bit, I told Jill and Jack to obey mother and do as she said. Then I informed them that I would come up and read them a story before they went to sleep. They literally shouted with glee as they jumped off my lap and ran up the stairs.

I followed them a few minutes later and walked down the hallway to their rooms. The door to our bedroom was closed and I didn't bother to open it on the way by. I just went into the children's room and prepared to read the story of their choice. After I finished the story, I tucked them in and we said our goodnights. They didn't even ask about their mother, so I said, "I'll send Mother in to give you your kisses." Jill spoke up first. "Mother isn't feeling well. She told us that on the way home and she asked us not to make too much noise because of her headache. If she is too sick to kiss us, it's okay. We'll get one tomorrow."

Colleen still had not come out of our bedroom, so I gently opened the door to look in. She was sprawled on the bed fully clothed and sound asleep. She looked exhausted. I didn't know what to make of that, but all sorts of scenarios began to play out in my head. I finally shut them down and went downstairs to read and take my mind off my own problems. Reading always helped me to go to sleep and I hoped that tonight would be no different.

I had been reading a novel about a dysfunctional family that was experiencing all kinds of trials in their lives. Unknown to each of the parents was the fact that the other was having an affair. Their two children were also heavily involved sexually with several of their friends, and drugs had become a problem also. 




Some Things Are Meant to Be



When I read novels like this, I have a tendency to skip over the love scenes because that stuff just doesn't add to the story for me. However, as I read my book tonight I read every word, sex play and all. Some of the details of the wife's affair were vividly portrayed. When I finished reading two chapters I closed the book and silently asked myself, "Could she really do that sort of thing while we are married? Is that what she did this afternoon, or did she really go shopping? I don't think I could ever have and affair," I concluded, "but now I truly wonder about Colleen."

One of the subplots in the book that I was reading was framed around the wife's strong desire to get out of her marriage without being exposed for the adulteress that she was. So she hired a Private Investigator to spy on her husband for two weeks. Her lover helped her out financially (so her husband wouldn't suspect) and even recommended the guy she chose to spy on her husband.

I finished reading at the point in the book where she had just received word from the PI that her husband was indeed cheating on her. The whole matter took only a few days, instead of two weeks, and the PI turned all his evidence over to her at the end of the chapter. I didn't know how she was going to handle what she had learned, but she was delighted to find that her husband was vulnerable to losing his shirt in the event of a divorce. I wondered if that could be me one day soon. I wanted to read on but I was too tired. 

As I went upstairs to bed, I remembered that Walgreen's bag and wondered what it contained. I went into the bathroom, closed the door and looked around. I found the bag and the receipt in the waste can. I quietly retrieved it and looked at the receipt. All it had on it was one entry listed for Tylenol ® Night Time tablets. I looked in the medicine cabinet and saw the new bottle. I was relieved.

I had decided to get up with the family tomorrow instead of sleeping in so I went to bed in our bed. Colleen was still out and didn't budge when I pulled back the covers and lay down. She was dead to the world again, just like last night. I wondered how many tablets she had taken.

As I lay there, I determined to be more involved with my family and much more aware of what was happening in our lives. 

CHAPTER SIX

Monday and Tuesday came and went. Colleen met her classes, did her usual things around the house, and seemed normal with the children. She seemed to be lost in thought at times. I wondered if she was feeling depressed. Each night she had taken her sleeping pills and had gone to bed earlier than usual. Wanting to have more family time, I got the guys at the shop to cover for me and I took off work so I could tuck Jill and Jack into bed and read them their stories.

By Wednesday morning of that week, I couldn't bear it any longer. She had been acting too perfunctorily and it was bugging the hell out of me. I felt that we needed to resolve some issues. 

I knew that Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays were days when she had a big hole in her teaching schedule from 11:00 AM to 3:00 PM. She had no classes during those hours and would often use that time to run errands or come home for a while.

She was in the bathroom, so I walked up behind her in the bathroom put my hand on her waist. She tensed a bit but didn't reject me. I looked over her shoulder into the mirror in front of us and said, "Colleen, I love you and I want to try to work this out. I don't know all that's going on but I believe that whatever is happening is not good for us as a couple. If it's possible, I want to prevent anything from happening that would destroy our marriage."

She stared back at me in the mirror and asked, "What do you think might happen?"

"I'm not sure," I responded, "but I have come up with several scenarios that I don't like."

"Well, are you thinking that I have decided to leave you, Ed? If so, I haven't yet, have I?"

"Don't be sarcastic, Colleen. You know as well as I that there are numerous other things that could happen even if you didn't leave me," I responded.

"Like what," she queried?

"Colleen, why are you playing games? You know as well as I do what can happen. You could have an affair, for one thing. Some of our divorced friends who had affairs convinced themselves that it would actually help their marriage. What a crock of crap that kind of thinking proved to be. I don't buy it and I could never accept it if you chose to go that route, no matter what."

"Is that all you're interested in, whether or not I'm going to have an affair?"

"No," I replied, "that is not all. That's only the tip of the iceberg, Colleen. I want to know what has driven you to the point that you could viciously lash out at me as you did without any hint of regret. I want to know what's wrong with our marriage that we haven't been working on. I also want to know what Bill could say that would make you turn against me and make me out to be the enemy."

She moved forward and turned to face me. "Why would you think Bill turned me against you? He simply helped me see our life as it really is and to understand the truth about things I was not aware of. Now, you'll have to excuse me. I must get the children to school and go to work. If you have more on your mind, we can talk about it later. Okay?"

I could hardly believe her patronizing tone of voice, but I wasn't finished.

"Nothing is okay, Colleen. How about meeting me for lunch sometime during your four-hour break today. If we're going to salvage our marriage, we need to start talking now rather than later."

"Uh, I can't work you in today," she said. "It's not a good ... what I mean is, I already have an appointment with someone."

I noticed she had sort of fumbled with her words, but I didn't really pick up on it.

"Who is that," I asked?

She paused for a moment, then she said, "Uh... Dean Schmidt."

I couldn't figure out why the two of them would need to meet unless they were working on a school-wide project together. So I asked, "Dean Schmidt ... the head of the Business Department? Why would he need to meet with the Acting Dean of Music?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "He just asked me to come see him today."

I turned and walked away. As I went downstairs, it occurred to me that even the college was another source of people who might want to have an affair with Colleen. What world had I been living in that it had never occurred to me before? How could I possibly watch her all the time if she were to decide to fool around on me? I was acting paranoid. I knew that I couldn't keep thinking thoughts like that or I'd drive myself crazy.

Colleen had blown me off when she said, "I cannot work you in today." She had a four-hour break. Why couldn't she work me in for at least one hour? I had tried to set up a time to talk with my own wife and she had made me feel like I was just another prospective appointment. My stomach was in knots and my mind was spinning as I left for work. 

After I arrived at the shop, I decided to do something I had not done for some time. I went to a florist in the mall and asked them to prepare an arrangement of one dozen roses. I said I would pick them up around noon during my lunch break. I picked them up, as promised, right after noon, and I drove to her college to deliver them. I honestly didn't have an ulterior motive when I decided to do it. As Colleen says, sometimes things are just meant to be. You'll see why I brought that up.

As I walked down the corridor that was Dean's row, I came to Dean Schmidt's office. I could see that he was talking with a student and Colleen was not there. When I turned around I realized that his office was located directly across the corridor from Colleen's office. In fact, the way they were positioned, they could see into each other's offices when the doors were open. It was 12:35 PM, and Colleen was not in his office, so I surmised that her meeting with Dean Schmidt must be over.

I turned and walked into Colleen's office. Her secretary greeted me, and I said, "My wife said she had a meeting with Dean Schmidt during this break time. Is she finished or is the appointment for later?"

"No," she replied. "She isn't scheduled to have a meeting with Dean Schmidt to my knowledge, and I'm usually one of the first to know things like that."

"Well, I am certain that's what she said, but I see that she's no longer there, or here for that matter. Do you know where she is?

The young lady must have become suspicious of something because she looked at me with a questioning expression and cast another glance into Dean Schmidt's office. Then she looked back at me and said, "I don't know where she is, actually. She just told me that she was leaving campus and would be gone from 11:00 until 2:00 PM. She has her cell phone with her so she can be reached if you need to call her."

"I do. Would you please call her for me? I'll take the call in her office."

It didn't add up. Why would Colleen go off campus for three hours when she had a meeting with Dean Schmidt? Maybe the meeting was cancelled. 

I was still holding Colleen's flower arrangement, so when the secretary said, "It's ringing," I set them down on her desk and pushed the button for the speakerphone. 

Colleen answered on the fourth ring. Evidently she had seen her office number come up on her caller ID because she simply said, "Yes?" 

"Hello," I replied. "I apologize if you're still in your meeting, but how would you like to go to a concert if I can get some free tickets? I need you to make a decision like right now, however, if you're interested. Would you like to go?"

"Ed, I really cannot talk to you now. I'm still in Dean Schmidt's office and you're disrupting us. Can't this wait until I get home tonight?"

Ding! The liar bell just sounded. She had just told a blatant one, too, and both her secretary and I had heard it clearly! 

When Colleen said what she did about being in Dean Schmidt's office, her secretary rotated in her chair and looked at me quizzically. I just shook my head and smiled. She, too, could see that Colleen definitely was not with Dean Schmidt.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to pass them up," I said. "Sorry to have bothered you. Have a good meeting with Dean Schmidt."

There was pause before she said, "Okay, Ed. See you tonight."

I turned off the speakerphone, jumped out of the chair and ran out of my Colleen's office. As I rushed by her secretary, I handed the rather dazed young lady Colleen's roses and said, "Here. These are for you. Thanks for listening. I may need you as a witness," and I ran out the door.

On a hunch, I decided to drive by our house. Our place was a straight shot down the street just a couple of blocks from the college. I did not recognize the car that was in the driveway but I had a sickening feeling I knew who owned it. I parked in the street, rather than in my driveway, and I quickly walked to the front door. I retrieved my house key and quietly put it in the lock. As I did that, I looked into the living room through the window in our front door. Colleen was sitting on the ottoman talking to Bill, who was on the couch. Once again, he was holding her hands. Bill looked up when he heard the door opening with a look of panic on his face. 

I burst into the room and headed straight for him. He had started to stand with his arms defensively outstretched in front of him, but I aimed my punch between them and crushed his nose. The blow landed him back onto the couch. He went limp and Colleen fell backwards off the ottoman screaming. I grabbed Bill by his collar. I literally dragged him out the front door and shoved him toward the driveway. He unceremoniously landed on his palms and face. 

I went back inside, slammed the door shut and walked over to Colleen. She was now on the floor, hysterically crying. Her face was flushed and fearful.

"Please, listen," she pleaded. "Nothing happened between us. Please, believe me!"

"Something already happened, Colleen. You lied to me, deceived me, and brought another man into my home to do only God knows what. Now get your ass up and get out of my house." 

She repeated, "Nothing happened between us, I swear to God. We didn't do anything except talk. You can't throw me out for that!"

Her tears and her pleading didn't deter me.

"I'm not the only one who knows what a liar your are, Colleen. When I called you a few minutes ago, I was in your office sitting at your desk, talking to you on the speakerphone. Your secretary overheard the whole thing. She heard you tell your lies. Your reputation is now in the crapper with her, also."

"Well I hope that makes you happy," she said.

"None of this has made me happy, Colleen, absolutely none of it. You are screwing up your life and mine, and for what? I want you to pack your things and get out. You've chosen to go behind my back to have some kind of relationship with Bill and I won't put up with it. You've sunk to his level as a cheater and a liar and I will no longer tolerate any level of deception on your part, for any reason whatsoever. Pack your stuff and get out. You still have a few hours before your next class and I'll wait while you pack your things, but when I leave, you will already be gone and you will not be welcome to come back." 

"Colleen, being alone with another man in my home, without my knowledge, is more than I will accept. You've even violated your own limits of permissiveness. If you don't want me to start throwing your clothes out the door, you had better start packing!" 

"What about the children," she cried.

I retorted, "For now they are no longer your concern. All you have to worry about is what you are going to do with the rest of your life. Now start getting your lying ass out of here before I totally lose it and do something you'll regret. I tried to talk with you this morning and you acted coy and blew me off. I wanted to get together with you for lunch and you blew me off. I now see the kind of person you've become and I don't like you very much right now, so I suggest that you don't push me. You've got a lot of decisions to make if you want to remain my wife, and you best be making them quickly because my fuse has about burned out."

One last time she begged, "Please! Please, let me stay so we can talk it out now."

I tried to calm down some as I said, "Too late, Colleen. Now I'm the one who is not in the mood to talk. I cannot fit you into my schedule for a while. When you decide that you're truly sorry, call me and we will meet and talk. Do you understand? In the meantime, this is my last warning. Start packing, and get out!"

She picked herself up off the ottoman and headed up the stairs. As she walked into the bedroom an idea came to me, so I acted on it. I went to her purse and removed her cellular phone. I checked her recent calls and found she had been calling him since Sunday at our main Audiomart store where he worked. Then I checked her missed call log and found a couple of calls from the same number. It appeared that she was hooked. Either that, or she was being hooked. 

I put her phone back and went to the kitchen sink and let the cool tap water run over my head for a couple of minutes. I had never been so angry or so heated about anything before. I felt like something inside me had exploded and I couldn't calm down. After a bit, I dried my hair and went back to the living room.

Colleen had never seen that side of me before. No matter how assertive I could be at work, I was normally the peacemaker at home. Colleen had a temper, as I've said, and I jokingly remarked once that she had enough for both of us. Now she had seen a small sampling of what I was capable of and she was frightened. She had every right to be. I had never hit her, and I probably never would, but she didn't know that at this point. One thing for certain, there was no longer any doubt about who was calling the shots. Her patronizing mouth had finally been silenced.

When she came down the stairs she was carrying a couple of suitcases. She looked over at me with sad eyes and I stared back at her. I didn't smile, I didn't blink, and I didn't offer to help her with her baggage. I just sat and watched as she walked out the door to her car and loaded her stuff in the trunk. Neither of us said another word.

As soon as she was gone, I called a locksmith and told him to change both my outside locks and the code to my garage. I asked him if he needed me to leave him a key and he laughed. "You must be joking. Stop and think about the job title of the guy you're talking to," he said. I felt a bit foolish. He told me that he would leave my new keys in the mailbox, and he promised me he would be finished by 6:00 PM. 

6:00 PM. In just a few hours Colleen will be locked out of the house, but what about my life? It didn't look good at this point.

I realized that I needed to do something about the children, so I called the school and asked if they had an after school day care service. They did so I told them I would be right there and I headed out.

On the way I called Mike at the store and told him that I'd had a crisis at home. He told me that he would cover for me as long as I needed, so I took a little longer at the school to talk to the Principal about what was going on. She was deeply regretful and promised to let the children's teachers know, but otherwise keep it "under her hat." I then went to talk to the children. I explained to them what I wanted them to do. They asked about Colleen and I said that she wasn't feeling well again and was taking some time away until things were better. I told them I would come get them and take them out for hamburgers and milk shakes if they would promise to be good in daycare. Their eyes lit up and they clapped their hands. I gave them hugs and kisses and let them go back to class.

As I climbed into my car my emotions let go and I started shaking. I sat there for a few minutes without moving. "Maybe this is the beginning of the end," I said out loud."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Back at my shop I made a call to the president's office at the main store. When he answered, I asked if he had a few minutes to talk to me. He told me to take as long as I needed so I began.

"Chris, when Bill finally comes back to work he will have some skin missing from his nose and maybe elsewhere. I want you to know what happened and that I'm responsible for his pain. I am not apologizing for my actions because I would do it all over again. You see, I found him alone in my house with my wife. She said that nothing happened, but they were holding hands and looking all starry-eyed when I walked in. I punched Bill in the face in and then threw his ass out on my driveway. He made a three-point landing and will take a while to heal. I'm not his boss, so I cannot fire him, but rest assured that I will come after him if he ever comes near my wife again, even if I have to come there to get to him."

Chris slowly responded, "I had no idea you two were at odds with each other. How long has it been going on?"

I poured out the entire story of everything that happened from Saturday night through this afternoon.

Chris commented, "I sure hope nothing more happened than just talk. What do you want me to do?"

"I cannot tell you what to do but it's going to be very uncomfortable at company gatherings and business meetings with both of us still around," I replied.

"Well, that settles it. Bill's gone. It's time anyhow. It seems that every recommendation he's made around here was to benefit him. I never did totally agree with his suggestion that you be promoted to management, but others agreed so I went ahead and did it. Anyhow, I needed someone like you to salvage a few of my stores. I regretted it, however, every month when I saw your sales dropping below what I knew you could achieve. Next week I want you to come to see me. Let's talk about your future with the company over dinner. Okay?"