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Dentist's Chair

By: JimBob44



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

*****

Chapter 1

Arthur Petitjean wanted to groan, not so much from the pain in his mouth, but from the boring topic of conversation Dr. LeMoine droned on and on about as he drilled on Arthur's tooth.

That was the problem with Dr. LeMoine. The man was a good and thorough dentist and seemed to be a very compassionate man to all his patients. But the problem was, the man was about as exciting as Luke-warm tapioca pudding. And the man assumed, just because he was an egg head, everyone was an egg head. Dr. LeMoine assumed that everyone found the same topics that he found interesting to be of interest.

"So they've recognized that carbon is the building blocks of all life," the man said as he began filling the cavity. "So it makes perfect sense that we're now using this carbon fiber polymer, you know, instead of the old material to fill cavities, how long have you had that gold sheath? Don't often see gold sheaths on a canine like that."

"You're the one put it on," Arthur reminded him. "We were going to use stainless steel but you didn't have any."

"Oh yeah, yeah, that's right," Dr. LeMoine nodded and used his air jet to harden the carbon fiber on the lower tooth. "Yeah, got hit with a rock, split the tooth, right?"

"Yeah, damned kid; told him didn't want him throwing rocks at my house so he threw it at me instead," Arthur chuckled mirthlessly.

And with a final shaping grind with his drill, Dr. LeMoine was finished and went on to the next patient. Arthur gingerly tested the tooth while he waited to pay. His left hand rested on the wooden ledge and he imagined he saw a young mother, holding a crying child and looking at Dottie with interest.

Arthur looked at Dottie, the dental assistant, as she talked with Bertha, another dental assistant and shrugged his shoulders. The young red head was attractive enough and had a very pleasant personality, but was fairly skinny, too skinny for his taste.

He bit down again and took the charge slip the new administrative assistant handed to him. For an instant, Arthur saw the administrative assistant's absolute panic; she was in a new job, in over her head and was terrified they'd find out she didn't know what she was doing and would fire her. The girl desperately needed the job; she and her boyfriend were renting a decrepit old trailer and could barely afford their month to month expenses.

Arthur didn't know how he knew this, but a glance into the girl's eyes told him what he sensed was true. He started to say something, and then clammed up. He too had been right there. His first job after qualifying to be a CPA and he just knew, day after day, that they would fire him at any moment. The only way to outgrow fear is to go through it. He couldn't tell this girl that; she'd just have to live and learn.

So he signed the charge slip, gave her as reassuring a smile as he could, and then left the small building.

It was a beautiful autumn day, not too cold, oranges and reds and yellows all around as Arthur Petitjean drove to his new job.

Paula Lambert, the Administrator of St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center had smiled a dazzling smile when he screwed up his face and told her, on his very first day as the Accounts Receivables specialist, he'd have to be a couple of hours late, having scheduled the dentist appointment a month ago.

"Had to have a root canal done," she smiled. "Why? Had a cavity, but got too busy go take care of it and all of a sudden found half a tooth in my steak. Go; go have it taken care of. We're not going to go broke just because our AR Specialist is an hour or two late."

Yvonne, his wife had smiled when Arthur told her of his new boss's lax attitude.

"And Brett would have docked you three hours for it," she said, having no love for Brett Johnson, his old employer.

In fact, Arthur had to threaten a law suit just to get his last paycheck when he put in his two weeks' notice.

"Good morning," Paula smiled when Arthur strode off the elevators onto the fifth floor of the building. "How'd it go?"

"In and out," Arthur smiled at the attractive woman. 

If he had to guess, he'd say that Paula Lambert was in her early thirties. She actually looked much younger, but he reasoned that someone in their mid-twenties would not have the experience to head a large hospital.

He followed the strawberry blonde down the main corridor to a door with a frosted glass pane. She pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and then handed him the key.

"There's this outer office; we're interviewing administrative assistants now," she informed him, pointing to a small desk and a garish green leather chair.

"In the meantime, I assume the old Admin will fill in?" Arthur asked.

Her clear green eyes instantly misted over and she turned her head away from him.

"She, uh, she was killed," Paula admitted.

"Oh!" Arthur gasped. "Oh, I am so sorry! I uh, I didn't know!"

"Yeah, well, kind of why we needed an AR Specialist," Paula said and opened a second door that sat to the left of the small desk. "And here's your office. You need anything, do not hesitate to ask. I apologize, but like I told you, we're really backed up since the, since the, well, you know."

Arthur looked in and saw a large, kidney shaped clear glass table, supported by three chrome legs, a large computer monitor , wireless keyboard and a wireless mouse sitting on top of a mouse pad that had a woman's vagina imprinted on its surface.

"Oh good God, I told them throw that damned thing away," Paula snapped, grabbing the offensive mouse pad off the desk.

She grabbed the mouse pad off of the small wooden desk in the outer office and slapped it on the clear glass table.

Arthur came around the desk, saw the computer sitting on the floor against one of the chrome legs and turned it on. He then sat down in the executive chair that sat behind the desk, and then stood up again.

"Take it the last AR Specialist was kind of short?" he asked, pulling the lever to raise the chair.

"Guess he was about five six, maybe five seven, why? How tall are you?" Paula asked, slightly amused.

"Six three," Arthur said and sat down in the chair.

"It's asking for a password," he said, nodding to the monitor.

"Told Oscar use the last four of your Social Security and your first and last initials, all lower case," Paula said, then looked at the ceiling as her name was paged. "Oops, got to go. Need anything, let me know."

Arthur rapidly typed in his password and went searching for the accounting program.

Whoever had been the previous AR Specialist had been very good at his job. Either that or his administrative assistant had been very good at making him look good.

Arthur looked up in surprise as the chair gave a soft sigh and slid down slightly. He decided to ignore that and forge on.

Another soft sigh and he slid down a few more millimeters.

Within fifteen minutes of his sitting down, the chair was resting solidly on its base. He stood up slightly, pulled the lever again, and raised the chair to its maximum height. This time, he shoved the lever in, hoping to lock it into place.

Again, in fifteen minutes, he was resting on the base again.

"What the hell; I'm not that heavy," he grunted.

He found the Outlook program, clicked on 'New' and typed out an email to his new boss that a new chair would be needed; the old chair being defective.

"But in the meantime," he said, wheeled the chair out to the outer office and grabbed the garish green leather chair.

The chair itself was quite nice; soft leather, plenty of firm padding, and good stitching throughout. But the color was simply hideous.

He smiled; whoever had used the chair last had it raised to its highest level, just right for him. He smiled again as he looked at his monitor; Paula had already responded that Supplies was busy searching for a new chair for him.

Arthur found the last billing cycle and saw that they were at least three weeks behind. Paula had laughed and said they would not go broke if he was an hour or two late, but if he had been a week or two late, they would have had serious trouble making payroll.

He unconsciously bit down on his filling as he waited for the batch of the first twenty billing cycle to finish printing. Obviously, until he got an Administrative Assistant, he would have to stuff his own envelopes. He had no Administrative Assistant at Johnson's Furniture and Appliances so he was used to it.

He put his hand on the leather arm of the chair and in his mind saw a petite Asian woman with a short pixie cut hairstyle, barely more than nineteen years of age, sitting down in the same garish green chair. He heard a man's laughter as the girl got up and raised the chair to its maximum height and sat down again.

"Shut up!" Arthur heard the Asian girl squeak. "I can't help it I'm short!"

"Green is my favorite color in the whole wide world," Arthur heard the girl proclaim. "See?"

Arthur opened his mouth in shock as he saw the petite Asian girl lift the hem of her skirt and flash her hairless pubic mound at the unseen male. The vision disappeared the moment he opened his mouth, but in that millisecond of vision, he had seen a butterfly tattoo, a large green butterfly that covered the entire mound, with her wet, puffy pussy lips fitting perfectly within the center of the butterfly.

Arthur got up from his seat, looked at the hideous green chair, and even rocked it slightly with his hand.

The printer gave a soft chime and he gathered the papers and grabbed a handful of envelopes that were conveniently next to the printer.

"Knock knock," a woman's voice sang out and Arthur looked up to see an older, much heavier version of Paula Lambert enter his office.

"Hi, Sherri Lambert; Insurance; I'm in the office right next door. Been doing what I could make sure we don't have to declare bankruptcy so all insurance claims are current as of eight o'clock last night, how are you?" the woman said, extending a pudgy hand.

"I was wondering about that; saw that they were up to date, great job," Arthur said, smiling and shaking the offered hand. "Arthur Petitjean, great to meet you."

"The woman had on a top that was far too snug for her and far too revealing for a woman of her age, or in a professional setting. Same with her skirt; it was far too short to be appropriate.

"Paula says they've narrowed the search to two candidates, a girl just got out of college and another one been doing it for three years, no college but plenty of experience, so you won't have to be doing that for long," Sherri commented as Arthur started stuffing the envelopes.

"Don't mind," Arthur shrugged, setting up the next twenty to print while he stuffed.

Sherri's skirt rose up when she sat down, uninvited, in one of the two guest chairs in front of his desk. Through the clear glass, Arthur could see that the woman wore no panties, and saw that the woman had an extremely hairy crotch. She smiled a knowing smile at him as he quickly averted his eyes.

He made appropriate noises while she chattered and he continued to print up batches.

"Sherri, you don't have anything better to do than bore the new guy to tears?" Paula said, fighting to keep her voice pleasant.

"Nope, not really," Sherri said, not rising to her daughter's bait.

"Sherri go back to your office and actually do what I pay you to do, huh?" Paula ordered.

"I can see why some animals eat their young," Sherri said to Arthur.

"And I can see why the Eskimos put their elderly on ice floes and send them out to sea," Paula said to Arthur.

"And I can see why the last AR Specialist ran screaming from here," Arthur thought to himself as Sherri eased her bulk out of her chair.

"Anyway, here's your parking card; hang it on your rearview mirror, here's your cafeteria card; yes, we actually buy you lunch here," Paula said, putting two pieces of plastic on his desk. "And we're still looking for an office chair; I could have sworn we'd have one just laying around, I mean, we found one of those ergonomic ones, the one with no back? Horrible; I don't know how anyone can sit in one of those things all day long, but we're looking."

"Actually, this one is fine; I mean, good God is it ugly, but it's actually quite comfortable and you know what? I don't have to look at it," Arthur smiled.

"Oh, good!" Paula smiled in relief. "So all we got to do is get one for out here and..."

He finished the first week's batches and sat back, satisfied with his morning's work. Unconsciously, he bit down, bringing his gold tooth in contact with the carbon fiber filling. He touched his hand on the arm of the chair.

In his mind's eye, he saw the petite Asian girl sitting, skirt bunched up around her waist, rubbing her pussy.

Again he opened his mouth in shock and the image was gone.

The cafeteria fare wasn't bad, and when Arthur Petitjean looked at what he had to pay for it, it was quite good.

Belly full, mood relaxed, Arthur entered his office and again grimaced at the garish chair.

Throughout the day, for reasons he could not explain, he constantly saw images of the attractive Asian girl sitting in the chair. Most of the time, he saw her performing routine office duties, and sometimes he saw her in lewd acts of exhibitionism and masturbation.

Right at 5:00 pm, Paula Lambert knocked on his door and smiled.

"For now, since there's no one sitting in that desk as of yet, we're just going to put the old chair there, that all right?" she asked him.

"Sure, and hey, who knows, my Admin might like it like that," he shrugged. "By the way, what was the name of the Admin that had this chair before?"

"Molly Wee; she was first generation Chinese-American," Paula smiled sadly. "Kind of fitting that her name was 'Wee' since she was only about four, maybe four and a half feet tall."

"Aye, she was a wee thing, that she was," Arthur attempted an Irish accent and failed miserably, but Paula smiled.

Chapter 2

"So how was it?" Yvonne asked as he came in through the garage door.

"Are you kidding? It was great!" Arthur said.

"So, you think you'll like it?" she asked as he kissed her.

"Think I'll love it," he said.

"Okay, get out of that suit and tell Yvette dinner's almost ready," she said, already busy with a task.

Arthur looked at his thirty five year old wife's back and frowned. She was still a very beautiful woman, even though she had recently cut off all the long brown hair he had loved, affecting a much more severe hairstyle. Despite having three children, she had only gained about thirty pounds since their teenage years. Her breasts did sag slightly under their weight, but that was to be expected. In her slacks, her rear end was still a magnet for his eyes.

But she was so cold, so distant lately. Whenever he tried to initiate sex, she tried to plead out of it, and if he was adamant, if he brought up how long it had been since their last dalliance, she would grudgingly give in, flop on her back and stare off into space.

Most of the time, he would roll away, disgusted. But every now and then, he would roll on top; have his pleasure, then roll away while she rushed to the bathroom to clean herself.

And any attempts at discussing their problems was met with a stone-faced denial of any problems.

"What?" Yvonne asked in a sharp tone, sensing Arthur's eyes on her.

"Nothing, just admiring the view," he said, then left the kitchen.

Arthur Junior, AJ, and Steve sat on the couch, arguing about what to watch on the television.

"Got a television in your room, AJ," Arthur said to the eighteen year old AJ as he walked toward the master bedroom.

"Yeah, butt face," Steve snapped at his big brother.

"Steven Christopher Petitjean, do not call your brother 'Butt Face,' would you like no football this weekend?" Arthur snapped at the eight year old.

"Ha ha," AJ taunted the boy.

"Yvette, dinner's almost ready," Arthur called out as he rapped on his fifteen year old daughter's bedroom door.

He got no response; he did not expect one. His wife was not the only sullen, moody female in the house.

Now in a comfortable pull over shirt and khaki shorts, Arthur sat at the new dining room table and sat on the padded vinyl chair and winced at the sound of the ceramic plates being slapped on the table by a glowering Yvette. At least AJ was putting napkins down before slapping the forks and knives down.

"Thank you," he said to them but got no response.

"Oh, hey, my desk at work?" Arthur said to Yvonne when she brought in the meal. "Clear glass, just like this.

"No kidding?" Yvonne asked, not interested.

"Yeah, kind of startled me; I'm typing away, and all of a sudden see a pair of feet there. Took me a second realize I was staring at my own feet," Arthur chuckled.

"Oh, just think!" Steve said, already reaching for the closest bowl. "Go to put your pen down, can't see how close the desk is and "Crash!" hand goes right through the desk!"

"Yeah, going to have to be careful about that," Arthur chuckled with the eight year old. "Wait, we haven't said 'grace' yet."

That night, as could be expected, Yvonne rebuffed his advances. Arthur bit down in frustration, touching her pillow to roll himself over and felt a wave of depression nearly overwhelm him.

The wave of depression left the moment he broke contact with Yvonne's pillow but it unnerved him.

"Oh, when they coming get the old table and chairs?" Arthur asked when he could think again. "Steven's wanting make that soapbox car and it's right in front of the table saw."

"I don't know," Yvonne spat out bitterly. "I'll call them again tomorrow, that soon enough for you?"

"Good God, Yvonne, just asking," he spat back. "But if it's too much trouble, don't bother, all right?"

As he had for the last fifteen years, ever since AJ was big enough to feed himself, Arthur made the children's' breakfasts, then fed himself while Yvonne made their school lunches. For herself, Yvonne drank a powdered protein drink. Her mother had been diabetic so Yvonne tried to avoid carbohydrates as much as possible.

His work day progressed nicely and by lunch time, Arthur had finished one week's worth of backlog.

With a satisfied sigh, he sat back in the ugly green chair and smiled.

He saw the petite Molly Wee smiling happily, and then suddenly saw an erect penis sliding into Molly's mouth.

Arthur froze, by now having deduced that movement broke whatever connection he had with these images. Involuntarily, he smiled wider as he saw the girl make love, really make oral love to the penis. She was thoroughly enjoying sucking on the cock and it showed

Arthur was sure, at one time, Yvonne had enjoyed sucking his cock. At one time, she had giggled and laughed as she could make him weak in his knees with her mouth. But even in those days, before the kids, when all they had was that horrible one room apartment over Mr. Huvall's garage, they had really enjoyed being young and dumb and in love.

But Yvonne had never moaned with sheer pleasure as she pleased him as Molly was doing in Arthur's vision. In his vision, Arthur saw a somewhat effeminate looking man's hand reach down and grab Molly's small breast. He heard Molly's cry of orgasm then her groan of pleasure as the cock spewed its seed into her mouth.

His monitor gave a small chime and Arthur relaxed his smile, letting the vision slide away. Paula Lambert had sent him an email, requesting his presence as she conducted a third and final interview of his two potential Administrative Assistants.

"God, hope they're Chinese," he muttered to himself, trying to will his erection down.

He typed out his reply and smiled as her answer was almost immediate; one o'clock, then two o'clock, her office.


Dentist's Chair



The one o'clock interview was the fresh faced college graduate. Jill Bookhammer impressed him by having a firm handshake, and by admitting that she was extremely nervous and hoped she would not blow the interview.

He read through her rather skimpy resume and involuntarily bit down in a frown. The girl had plenty of education background but only one employment history, working in a concession stand just off University of Louisiana at DeGarde.

As he bit down, he could hear Jill's voice praying aloud.

He glanced up and saw Jill speaking with Paula, and even though she had said she was nervous, she was speaking in a clear voice, not giving the mumbled or hyper speed answers his fifteen year old daughter gave him.

But Jill Bookhammer was not praying out loud.

He bit down again and again could hear Jill's voice praying that she get the job; she had a domineering father and a bitterly unhappy mother. Both parents had sneered when she said she wanted to work, rather than just find a good professional man to marry.

"You're a pretty girl; pretty girls don't need to work," her mother snapped.

"One job?" Arthur asked when Jill finished answering Paula's question. "How do you think that this job has prepared you for working here, Ms. Bookhammer?"

"Yes sir, I did have only one job; to be honest, I really felt that school needed as much of my attention as possible, but hey, had to eat, right?" she answered. "But let me tell you, dealing with the public in such a fast paced environment, you have to take the order, ring up the sale, grab the order, make sure it gets to the right person, and get to the next one, all the while you got three or four people yelling out their orders, making sure you don't grab someone else's orders, how do I think that prepared me to work here? I learned how to focus on what is right in front of me while also paying attention to what is going on around me."

"I like her; a lot," Arthur said after Paula ushered the girl out. "Gave clear, concise answered, didn't try to blow smoke."

"I do too," Paula agreed. "I mean, I noticed her lack of experience too, but there's just something about her; she's not just looking for a job. I think she's looking for a career."

"Exactly!" Arthur concurred.

The second girl was also friendly, seemed a little more at ease than Jill had. But when Arthur took her resume, he heard her telling someone else that if Johnson, Johnson and Lambert called, she'd tell St. Elizabeth they could kiss her ass; she wasn't working for no rug munching dyke.

"So when do you find out about Johnson, Johnson and Lambert?" Arthur suddenly asked, interrupting Paula's question.

"I'm sorry?" the girl stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"I mean, I know if Johnson, Johnson and Lambert calls you, you're going to tell us to kiss your rear end because you don't want to work for a gay female," Arthur said calmly. "However, I can assure you, I am neither gay or female so I don't know where that comes from."

"Fine," the girl snapped, got to her feet and slammed out of the office.

"Where in the hell, what? What was that all about?" Paula stammered.

"Paula, obviously, that young lady has no qualms about leaving us high and dry, and certainly couldn't handle it when I confronted her," Arthur said, wondering how he could explain knowing what the applicant's intentions were.

"But how'd you know about Johnson, Johnson and Lambert?" Paula pressed him.

Friend of mine works there, Eric Greene," Arthur thought quickly. "Told me they'd interviewed a couple of promising assistants for him. When I saw her name, I put two and two together; seems she tried to kind of sort of influence their decision by letting them know that she had an interview with us too."

"But what was that stuff about a gay female?" Paula asked, blushing hotly.

"Eric said he overheard her telling another one of the applicants something about a, and I really hate using these words, but it's what she said. She didn't want to work for a rug munching..."

"Got it, thank you," Paula snapped.

"Again, I am very uncomfortable using those words," Arthur apologized.

"Thank you and well, you want to be the one to call Ms. Bookhammer?" Paula asked.

"Since she's to be my Girl Friday, yes, I think I would," Arthur smiled.

He rested his hand on her desk to push himself up out of the low slung visitor's chair and saw a naked female rear end sitting on the edge of the desk, blonde hair dark with moisture, and Paula's face between the blonde's thighs. 

The vision disappeared when he took his hand off the lip of the desk and he shook his head slightly.

"Two three four; cell phone, yeah, I'll give her a call," he said as he left Paula Lambert's office.

He was glad he had his phone's volume dialed fairly low; Jill's excited squeal would have deafened him.

"Start tomorrow, if you're ready," Arthur said when she finally stopped squealing.

Chapter 3

Yvonne feigned interest in Arthur's day, but Arthur could tell she was not in the same room with him. AJ talked about a new guitar Kimble's Cash-To-Go Pawn Shop had available, a BC Rich Warlock. Yvette, as usual, stuffed her food in her mouth, and then left the table, while Steve rambled about some college football game that Channel twelve would be airing.

AJ, just like his dad, was into music. Arthur had been a fairly proficient keyboard player in his younger days, had even tried out for a few of the bands in New Orleans, bands that showed every sign of being on the cusp of fame and stardom. None of those bands had taken him, and none of those bands had gone any further than the New Orleans area.

If it had keys, strings, pedals, AJ could pick it up, and within minutes would be making sounds come out of it. He even figured out how to play glasses filled with varying amounts of water.

Yvette had been very much into dance and even dreamed of being a ballerina with the New York Ballet Troupe. Then puberty hit and she completely lost interest.

But Steven was his odd child. Arthur could watch football and could keep up with what was going on. But if they announced tomorrow that they were disbanding the NFL, he would shed no tears.

But Steven was into anything that involved hitting, kicking, catching, or throwing a ball. He even loved hockey, loved the Lafayette Ice Gators and could name every player and quote their statistics.

One time, Arthur had come into the living room and found Steve watching a NASCAR race.

"Bet you a million dollars number 88 makes a left turn up here," he commented.

"Ha ha, pay up," Steve crowed when Dale pulled into the pit area instead of making the expected left turn.

"So is this girl pretty?" AJ asked his dad.

Jill? "Actually, yes, she really is quite pretty," Arthur said, having no reason to lie.

"You have any idea what she does in her room all day long?" Arthur asked Yvonne when they heard Yvette's door slam shut.

"What'd you do in your room when you were her age?" Yvonne sneered.

"Picked my nose and wiped the boogers on my cat," Arthur said, which got a smile out of AJ and a giggle out of Steve and a frown out of Yvonne.

The next morning, Arthur looked over at the dismantled wooden table and the neatly stacked chairs that sat in front of his small workbench. Obviously, even though she only worked part time at Annie's Floral Designs, Yvonne still had not found the time to call Salvation Army about coming to get the table and chairs. He shook his head and drove to work.

Jill came into the office after lunch, having spent much of the morning filling out all the paperwork. She smiled happily, then sat down and frowned.

"Don't bother," Arthur said when she raised the height of the chair to halfway, then sat back down. "Ten minutes from now you'll be raising it again."

He rapidly sent Paula an email.

Paula replied that the backless ergonomic chair was still available.

"Fine," Arthur said to himself.

"Oh, I love those!" Jill enthused when someone wheeled in the chair.

The worker wheeled the old chair away and Jill spent a few minutes adjusting the height of the new chair.

"How can you sit in that? Makes my back hurt just looking at it," Arthur smiled.

"Oh, no, it's so comfortable," Jill said, then answered her telephone with a cheery 'Arthur Petitjean's office."

At five o'clock, Arthur left, Jill still poring over the employee handbook. Out in the hall, he frowned as he saw a young man listlessly sweeping the floor; Arthur reflected that it was a good thing that no patients were on this floor. Such a displayed lack of interest to work would not inspire confidence.

The young man didn't even look up when Arthur walked past.

"Yeah, Buddy, it's not a glamorous job, but at least you got a job," Arthur thought to himself as he waited for the elevator.

As he drove home, he wondered why he'd had so few visions of Molly Wee that day.

Dinner, watching a fairly boring movie with Yvonne, then another refusal of sex, and Arthur went to sleep.

The next day, Jill greeted him when he stepped into the office. Arthur wondered why her greeting, while still polite, friendly, was not as cheerful, upbeat as yesterday's greeting.

With someone else to stuff the envelopes, Arthur was able to not only finish the second week's batches of Receivables processing, he was able to start on the third week's receivables.

"Lunch time, Ergo chair girl," he said and Jill actually giggled at that, grabbed her purse and followed him.

They sat at a table with two other hospital employees; the very last thing Arthur wanted for himself or for Jill was any whispers of impropriety between them. The orderly at their table had been there from the first day they were open, and had many amusing anecdotes about patients and staff alike. The other employee spoke very little English but was a very friendly Filipino man.

After lunch, Arthur finished processing another batch while Jill was still stuffing the previous batch into the envelopes, so he brought them out to her office for her.

He intended to put them on the edge of her desk, but misjudged where it he was putting them and they fell to the floor in front of the desk.

He bit down and put his hand on the desk to get down to pick them up.

He saw the loutish young man he'd seen yesterday in front of the desk.

"Oh! I'll get it," Jill exclaimed.

"No, no, I got it," Arthur said, losing the vision of the young man.

He bit down again and saw the young man, then heard the young man say, "So, how long you think you'll be here, they find out you was fired from Big Bunz?"

He heard Jill's whining voice, "Please, they don't know about..."

"What was it?" the young man mocked, resting his broom handle against the desk. "Stealing, right?"

"You were stealing too," Jill's voice protested.

"Yeah, think they give a fuck Housekeeping guy was stealing from his past job?" the young man laughed, coming around the desk.

"What, Phil, what are you doing?" Jill's voice asked.

"You know, I asked you out a bunch of times; you were always too fucking busy, huh?" Phil asked and Arthur could see him unzip his pants.

"What? Phil, I'm going to scream 'Rape' you so much as..." he could see Jill back against the desk.

"Go ahead and when I tell them about you stealing, think they'll believe you?" Phil mocked.

"One time, just hits one time," Jill wheedled.

"Sure," Phil said, pulling a surprisingly small penis out through his open zipper.

"Mr. Petitjean?" Jill asked, clamping her thighs together, wondering if he could see up her skirt, which would explain why he was squatting, not picking up the papers he'd dropped.

"Tell me about stealing from Big Bunz," he said, standing and putting the papers on the desk.

"What?" Jill gasped.

"Come on, come into my office," Arthur said and motioned to one of the visitor's chairs.

"How'd you, Mr. Mel said he wouldn't, I mean, I paid him back," Jill said, fresh tears in her eyes.

"And tell me about hits Phil guy," Arthur said softly as he sat in the other visitor's chair.

"Is that where, that mother fucker!" Jill snarled.

"All right, warning number one; I do not approve of language like that," Arthur said.

As Jill relayed the story, it really wasn't so much stealing as it was just 'forgetting' to charge a boy she liked. She did. This a few times before Phil had threatened to tell unless she gave him sex. She had refused and Phil had made good on his promise.

"I mean, Mr. Mel said if I had just told him, he would have said 'yeah, sure, go ahead' but because I didn't tell him," Jill sobbed.

"Okay, now, I'm going to let Paula know, let her know that I'm willing to keep you on regardless of this little incident, and that's that," Arthur said, handing Jill his handkerchief. "This Phil guy? Don't worry about him. You know his last name?"

"Books," she smiled wryly. "Isn't that something? Phil Books and Jill Bookhammer."

"You know why he's not at Big BunZ anymore?" Arthur asked as he shot Paula an email, requesting a minute of her time.

"Got into a fight with a customer," Jill shrugged.

"A fight? Or a fist fight?" Arthur asked.

"Fist fight, guy said Phil got his order wrong; Phil argued, Mr. Mel said he'd make the guy another burger and it would come out of Phil's pay and that's when Phil hit the guy," Jill said.

"Bet Mr. Phil didn't put that on his application," Arthur said.

Paula responded a minute later and Arthur knew it was a huge no-no, but he put a reassuring hand on Jill's shoulder as he left his office. She smiled appreciatively as he closed the door.

"Phillip Books, please report to Paula Lambert's office, Phillip Books, please report to Paula Lambert's office, Jill smiled when she heard the page go out.

"Okay, she's a little disappointed in you not being as forthcoming about this, but she says I'm your boss, I'm the one that has to deal with you, so get back to work, okay?" Arthur said as he walked back into the office.

A few minutes later, Arthur looked up when the door to the outer office slammed open.

"Fucking bitch! he heard someone screech in a whining voice. "Fucking got me fired! I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"Give me a reason, punk ass bitch," Arthur said, towering over the would be bully. "Give me one good reason to mop this floor with your ass."

Cursing and muttering threats under his breath, Phil left the office.

"Thank you, Mr. Petitjean," Jill muttered under her breath.

"Uh huh," Arthur said, closed the outer office door and returned to his own office.

He leaned back in the chair, put his hands behind his head, closed his eyes and bit down.

Molly was kneeling in the chair, hands gripping the back of the chair where Arthur's hands were now, green vine and leaves tattoo visible on the back of her thigh as it made its way up her leg and onto her small, almost non-existent backside.

Arthur remained perfectly still as he saw a greasy penis enter the Asian girl's splayed pussy.

"No, no, other hole," Molly moaned.

"Oh, you nasty little slut!" Arthur heard the man chuckle.

"Aaiieee!" Molly gave a short scream as the man none too gently shoved himself into her anus.

"Aw yeah, you're a whore, aren't you?" the man asked as he roughly pulled his cock out, then jammed it back in, as if he was fucking her pussy.

The man gave Molly no time to adjust to the intrusion, gave her no time to accommodate him, and just plunged in and out while she moaned.

"Here, aw shit, it, fuck, here it comes," the man groaned and Molly whimpered as he spurted into her bowels.

Arthur saw Molly gingerly crawl backward out of the chair then lost sight of her as she lowered her dress over her backside.

"You love me, Mr. Upjohn?" Arthur heard Molly ask and his mouth opened in shock.

"Mr. Upjohn!" he muttered to himself.

"Sir?" Jill asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Arthur said, logging onto the Internet and looking up Jamie Upjohn, DeGarde, Louisiana.

The trial was slated for three months from yesterday, James 'Jamie' M. Upjohn, charged with three counts of murder. He, according to the write-up, had murdered a nineteen year old Administrative Assistant, a twenty year old Bank teller, and a sixty two year old man, a private detective that his wife, Roey Upjohn had hired to catalog her husband's affairs.

The write-up did not say where he had worked and did not give much detail about his victims, other than to say that the assistant had been stabbed to death in her office, obviously trying to escape, the twenty year old had suffered a savage throat slashing in Jamie's little 'love nest' apartment, and the private detective had been shot to death in his office, all within sight of an office temp. The office temp had told police that she avoided being Jamie Upjohn's fourth victim by hiding in the employees' bathroom when she heard gunshots.

"Son of a bitch," Arthur muttered as he came out into the outer office, squinting at the floor.

"There a problem, Mr. Petitjean?" Jill asked.

"No, no," Arthur said, looking at the floor again, and then going back into his office.

Chapter 4

Jill walked toward her car and was suddenly startled when Phil popped up.

"Fucking bitch, boss ain't around now," he chortled at her terrified look.

That afternoon, Royal Jefferson had been a little surprised when Arthur Petitjean asked if he could look at their brooms, but shrugged and showed him the seven brooms that leaned against the wall.

"It was a wooden..." Arthur muttered to himself and found the thick handled broom.

He bit down bringing his gold tooth in contact with the carbon fiber filling.

He had figured out, there was an electric impulse created when he brought his tooth in contact with his gold sheath; gold being an excellent conductor of electricity.

Arthur also remembered Dr. LeMoine droning on and on about energy; once it is displaced it continues perpetuating itself.

"There are scientists that say that you can still hear Lincoln's Gettysburg address," the doctor had claimed. "The energy expelled continues to cycle, never destroyed; how about that?"

"Would love to actually hear a Led Zeppelin concert, rather than have to sit through that deplorable movie they made," Arthur had wondered aloud.

"Who? Led Zeppelin?" Dr. LeMoine said. "Ones did that song, oh, what was it? Stairway To Heaven?"

"That's them; had this horrible concert film called The Song Remains The Same; just really poorly put together," Arthur agreed.

"Never cared for them," Dr. LeMoine said.

Now, clutching the broom, Arthur saw a sullen bully with no ambition, filled with anger at the world in general, females in particular.

Phillip Books had no one to blame for his lot in life, other than himself. He was the one that made the decision to drop out of high school; he was the one that made the decision to bounce from menial job to menial job. He was the one that wasted his meager paychecks on marijuana, alcohol, and video games, rather than save any of it.

Females, in general, were not very receptive to imp; he was crude, unimaginative, lacked social graces. Not having money or a decent automobile also did not improve his standing with the opposite sex.

But Phillip Books was not about to accept any responsibility for his failures and would rather beat on smaller people, in particular females.

Now, out in the employees' parking lot, Arthur heard the sullen young man say to Jill, "Fucking bitch. Boss ain't around now."

"Sure about that?" Arthur asked, stepping up and slamming his fist into Phil's no longer smirking face.

"That's enough, Mr. Petitjean," Paula Lambert said calmly as two orderlies helped Phil to his feet. "Mr. Books, you are no longer an employee of St. Elizabeth Trauma Center, which means you have no business being on this property. If you are caught on this property again, I will have you arrested; is that clear?"




Dentist's Chair



"He hit me!" Phil whined.

"Did you see Mr. Petitjean hit him?" Paula asked one of the orderlies.

"No ma'am came up and saw him just laying there," the man said, face bland.

"You?" Paula asked the other orderly.

"Like my boy said, came up and he's just all laying there," the other orderly said, smiling slightly.

"Best go on get out of here," the first orderly ordered Phil.

Jill burst into sobs of relief and clung to Arthur. Arthur looked at Paula, clearly uncomfortable with a young girl clinging to him.

"In the future, Mr. Petitjean, if you believe there will be a problem, I would appreciate it if you'd let me know," Paula said. "Fortunately, Ramon here..."

She indicated one of the orderlies.

"...had seen Mr. Books loitering around and figured he was up to no good. But, if he had been seriously injured, the hospital would have been liable and as Accounts payable can tell you, our insurance is already high enough," Paula smiled tightly.

"This Phil guy; he know where you live?" Arthur asked Jill when she quit crying.

"No, I don't think so," Jill sniffled.

"All right, get on home; see you tomorrow," Arthur said.

Arthur had to be careful not to bite down while gripping the steering wheel of his automobile, which he'd, covered in a pebble grain leather.

"Not ice cold in the winter, not burning hot in the summer," he had explained to Yvonne, but she declined his offer to wrap hers for her.

But if he bit down while driving, he'd see, in his mind's eye, himself driving and it would distract him from driving.

At home, he put his hand on the tile countertop when glancing through the mail but no images came to him.

The tile had been coated with a non-porous sealant the salesman had convinced Yvonne to use. No matter how much Arthur pointed out that the old counter top had not been sealed, his mother's counter top had not been sealed, her mother's counter top had not been sealed, and they'd all survived not having sealed countertops, this one just had to be sealed. The salesman knew better than to smirk at Arthur's consternation

At dinner, he also noted that the glass tabletop gave no information, no matter where he touched it.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" Yvonne finally snapped at him. "You're getting smudges everywhere."

"Table feel kind of warm to you?" Arthur quickly covered up his investigation.

Again, that night, she rebuffed his advances, but gave in when he reminded her that it had been nearly three weeks.

"No, I don't want..." she snarled when he kissed her lovingly.

The anger he felt when he touched her pillow wilted his erection and he rolled off of her.

"Oh, what? Just because I don't want..." she snarled.

"No, no, you're right, it's late and we're both tired," he mumbled.

"Fine, fine," she huffed, slapped her pillow and rolled away.

"Hey, how old is this mattress?" he suddenly asked.

"What?" she asked, surprise over such an odd question driving her anger out of her thoughts.

"Just wondering when we put the old one in the camper," Arthur asked.

"And that's another thing; we really need to sell that thing' we having used it in what, two years now?" she said, pulling her panties back on.

"Uh huh, about, three, no, four, four years ago," Arthur said, ignoring her.

"It hasn't been that long," she snapped.

"We put that mattress in there, let's see, Steven was three, no four, remember? He almost drowned falling into the river," Arthur said.

"Are you even listening to me?" she snapped.

"Just as much as you're listening to me," he said and rolled away from her.

Four years was somewhat soon to be replacing a bed, but Arthur saw that a queen sized, or maybe even a king sized bed would be more in line with their new arrangement of hostile resignation and antagonism.

When they'd first gotten married, a full sized bed was plenty large enough, although his feet did tend to dangle over the edge. Even in her ninth month o pregnancy, belly poking him in the back, a full sized bed was large enough.

But lately, she had been complaining that he was 'crowding' her, that she had no room.

"Maybe if you lost some of that anger, you'd take up less space," Arthur almost said out loud, but did not.

In the morning, AJ was humming something to himself; it was obvious to Arthur that the boy was once again attempting to write a song; he kept repeating the same phrase over and over.

"Here, tired of y'all scratching the table all up," Yvonne snapped, slapping down woven placemats.

Still humming his phrase, AJ picked up one and put his plate on the straw mat.

"God, stop!" Yvette finally snapped at him and AJ did stop.

"Thought you loved music," Arthur said to his daughter, resting his hand gently on her shoulder.

"Yeah, well, not the same thing, over and over," she snapped, glaring sullenly at AJ.

"Dad, this Saturday, we do that car?" Steven again asked.

"Yeah, you got it, buddy," Arthur assured him.

"But I got..." Yvette reminded Arthur.

"That's at one, right?" Arthur smiled. "Not a problem; Me and Steve-a-reno can knock out the car, drive it down to New Orleans, and still be back in plenty of time," Arthur assured her.

Even Yvette let a rare smile escape as Steven laughed about driving a model car to New Orleans.

Chapter 5

The table and the chairs were right where he and AJ had moved them, nearly six weeks ago. Arthur resisted the urge to storm back into the house and demand an answer from Yvonne, why. How hard could it be to make one call, just one call to the Salvation Army; they would send a truck out that day.

He reminded himself, it would be just as easy for him to pick up his telephone and make the same call, so he bit back the anger and smiled at Steven.

"Okay, Buddy, you're always saying how strong you are? Time to man up. We're going to move this over there, on that wall, okay?" he said, pointing to where he wanted to go with the cumbersome table top.

He grabbed the end of the table, preparing to walk backward, and saw an engraved invitation that he had not seen before.

'Samuel Joseph and Patricia Ann Melks announce the engagement and upcoming nuptials of their son Steven Christopher Melks to...'

Arthur opened his mouth, nearly dropping the table.

He could remember Steve Melks, a handsome young man with an impressive physique and an aversion to wearing shirts. The Melks had lived two houses down and because there were no trees in the four front lawns from the Melks house on the left to the Tuttlebaums on the right, there were often five or six young men and their girlfriends playing football in front of their house.

Yes, they got loud, yes, one or two of the boys developed smart mouths and had to be sent away, but for the most part, no one minded them playing in their yards.

"Hey, at least we know where they are, right?" they'd say to one another.

Sam had been offered a promotion that moved the Melks to St. Louis Missouri right after Steve graduated from Cabrini High School. Arthur remembered, Yvonne had been quite despondent over their move and remembered wondering why. They'd been friendly with the Melks, but since Sam and Patty were nearly twenty years their senior, had not been especially close to them.

Now, Arthur lifted the table and saw his wife reading the invitation then putting her head down on the table and sobbing bitterly.

If the wedding had taken place, Steve and Pamela Wendy Davis were coming up on their second month as husband and wife.

Arthur wondered when the invitation had come in. In his mind's eye, Yvonne still had her long brown hair, so it could have been as long as six months ago.

"There?" Steven asked and Arthur nodded and they put the table top down and leaned it against the wall.

He looked at his youngest son and could clearly see that eighteen year old boy as he and his friends laughed, squealed, cavorted, and even occasionally fought in front of the house.

"Okay, these chairs and..." Arthur said and put his hand on one of the chairs.

He saw his daughter's unhappy face and his own face as he picked up two of the chairs and pushed them aside.

He saw AJ's face and also felt the chair jiggling slightly; this almost made him smile. The chair was jiggling, obviously because AJ was tapping his foot to a rhythm only he could hear.

"All right, future NASCAR winner, let's see if we can get you going here," Arthur said with false cheerfulness as he started up the saw.

Steven had attempted to draw what he had envisioned in his mind and Arthur shut off the saw and grabbed a pencil off the workbench.

"All right, see, what you got there is an add-on and what we're trying to do is cut away," he explained why they couldn't put the 'blower' his son wanted.

"We could glue it on?" Steven suggested.

"Uh huh, got one?" Arthur asked and Steven had to shake his head no.

"So, how about..." Arthur said and quickly sketched out a sleek looking car.

"And then we can paint it and..." Steven agreed.

"Uh, no, then YOU can paint it and put numbers on it; remember? I got to take your sister to that school meeting," Arthur reminded him as he started the saw again.

He made quick work of trimming the block of wood, handed Steven the sandpaper and put the boy to work smoothing out the project.

Yvette was not in her room when Arthur knocked on her door but the door did swing open.

Arthur stepped in' the room had not changed much since the last time she'd been permitted to enter her sanctuary. There were still far too many stuffed animals and there were still the four ballerina dolls she'd just had to have and would have died if Santa Claus had not put them under the tree for her. Four Christmases in a row, he and Yvonne scrambled, even driving as far as Houston, Texas to find them.

He picked up the closest one, the most expensive one out of the bunch and bit down, remembering how hard it had been to locate the doll. It had been the last doll she ever asked for.

Suddenly, he saw his baby girl as she clung to the doll, sobbing about her first period; terrified of becoming a woman.

"And then I'm going to get boobs and won't even be able to dance," she sobbed.

Even at her young age, Yvette was quickly developing into a very shapely young woman; almost a carbon copy of her mother.

"Dad!" Yvette shrieked, catching her father in her room.

"Hey, door was open," Arthur smiled, putting the doll back down. "Remember ho hard it was to find this one."

"And, that gives you the right to just come on in?" Yvette screeched, incensed that her sanctuary had been invaded.

"Uh, I pay the mortgage here," Arthur said, very quickly growing tired of her attitude.

He turned to leave, then saw something very odd on her desk; a hunting knife and there was a smudge of blood on it.

"What the..." he asked and picked it up.

"Dad! No!" Yvette screamed, lunging for the knife.

"Good God, what in the hell, huh? Do you really need to be screaming like this?" Yvonne snarled from the doorway.

"Dad, give me that, that's mine!" Yvette begged, tears beginning to spill from her eyes.

"Oh my God," Arthur said.

In the split second he'd touched that smudge of blood, that split second he'd been able to hold his jaw firm, he'd seen the numerous cuts on Yvette's arms, seen the euphoria she felt when she cut herself, the endorphin rush. He also saw the two haughty girls that bullied and tormented her at school.

"I don't know why you have this," he lied, handing the knife to his beautiful, anguished little girl. "But you are not to take that to school, do you hear?"

"Answer me; why do we need all this screaming?" Yvonne snapped.

"Door was open, I came on in, was looking at her doll; remember when we got her this one?" Arthur said, extremely angered with his wife, but not wishing to fight with her in front of his daughter.

"That does not answer..." Yvonne said.

"He's not supposed to be in here," Yvette screamed, quickly shoving the knife into a desk drawer. "No one's supposed to be in here!"

"That does not excuse..." Yvonne snapped.

"Come on Honey," Arthur pushed his wife into the hall.

"Hey, get dressed, I'll take you to Tommy's before we have to go to that school thing, all right?" he yelled through the door.

"So you're going to reward her bad attitude?" Yvonne shrilled at him.

"Why not?" he snapped back. "I reward yours."

Yvonne was stunned into silence for a moment, and then followed him into their bathroom.

"And what does that mean, you reward my..." she shrilled at him.

"When?" he asked her. "When is the last God damned time you've had anything nice to say to me? Huh? Please tell me, because I sure as hell don't remember."

He turned and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Now, if you don't mind I need to do the three 'S's and take my daughter for a father daughter lunch," he said.

Even though it was a warm day, Yvette was dressed in a long sleeve shirt and horribly baggy jeans. Yvonne almost said something about the outfit but Arthur hustled the girl into his car before Yvonne could say anything.

"Hey, that's looking good, what color you thinking you might want to paint it?" Arthur said as Steven held up the block of wood for his inspection.

"Blue," Steven said immediately.

"Well, it's almost ready," Arthur said. "But why don't you wait until I get home? You know if you make a mess, Mom will get pretty bent out of shape with you."

Kizzy's School of Dance was next door to Tommy's Po-Boys and Arthur looked over at Yvette as they watched a group of leotard clad girls trouping from Tommy's back to the studio, several carrying soft serve ice cream cones.

He could see the anguish in her eyes and put his hand on hers. For a brief moment, she let him hold her hand.

"Man, haven't had a soft serve, oh, I love chocolate," Arthur said as Yvette jerked her hand out of his.

Inside the restaurant, Arthur felt Yvette tense up and he looked over to see a girl smirking at Yvette. He recognized the girl as one of the bullies he had seen when he had held Yvette's knife.

"Good God, she hasn't met a candy bar she doesn't like, huh?" Arthur said, none too quietly to his daughter.

The bully's mouth opened in shock as she looked at the man that dared give voice to her worst fear. She was not severely overweight, but did have a few extra pounds of baby fat to lose.

"Still like shrimp?" Arthur asked his daughter who was staring at him in shock.

"Uh yeah, yeah," Yvette agreed. "No..."

"Pickle, I know, add ketchup," Arthur smiled.

He ordered their food and walked past the no longer smirking girl and an older woman, a carbon copy of the girl.

"Just say 'No' to the doughnuts, Blimpy," Arthur said, hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"Dad!" Yvette whispered hoarsely.

"Really? She goes to your school?" Arthur said. "Wow, can tell they don't have a weight restriction, do they?"

The girl shoved her sandwich away, in tears now.

"What gives you the right..." the girl's mother now stood in front of them, face red with rage.

"Free country, Porky," Arthur said. "I can say whatever I want, especially if it's true. But I can see where your daughter gets her bad eating and grooming habits from. Have a nice day."

Their order was called and Arthur stepped around the woman, making a big display of how widely he had to step around her.

"I don't think Allison, that's her name, right, Allison? I don't think that snotty little bitch will be giving you any more trouble," Arthur said as Yvette unwrapped her sandwich.

"How'd you..." Yvette asked, a single tear dripping down her face.

"Not important how I knew," Arthur said. "And I saw you watch those girls; I know, I know you may never be the ballerina you'd like to be, but I really really would love it if you'd go back to dancing. Honey, you loved it. You loved it so much, the music, and the movements."

"But it's a waste of time," Yvette weakly argued.

"Do you like it?" Arthur asked.

"Well yeah, but..." Yvette said.

"Then it's not a waste of time, or of money," Arthur said.

Kizzy Clark, the owner and primary teacher of Kizzy's School of Dance was waiting for the last of her eleven o'clock class to leave when Arthur hustled Yvette into the building. The brunette's eyes lighted up at seeing her former student.

"Hey, was wondering if you have a class for fifteen year olds, fifteen on up?" Arthur asked.

"Hi, Mr. Petitjean, yes, yes we do fifteen to eighteen; Yvette, have you been keeping up with your form?" Kizzy asked.

In the car, just outside of Northside High School, Yvette turned to her father.

"Love you, Dad," she said.

Chapter 6

Steven, of course, did not wait and Arthur screwed up his face as he used the paint thinner to first remove the enamel paint from Steven's hands, then from the garage floor. Steve Melks, as he remembered, had been an impetuous youth, unable to sit still, unable to be patient.

"Those jeans, I'm afraid, are history," he said while Yvonne harangued the eight year old.

"And your father told you to wait didn't he? You did tell him to wait, didn't you?" Yvonne screamed.

"Enough, okay? That's enough," Arthur said as he dabbed up the chemicals.

He kissed the upset boy, and then swatted his backside.

"Love you, boy but you're a mess, you hear?" he said. "Now, go wash them hands, all right? Wash them good. With soap, you hear?"

"What is the matter with you?" Yvonne now screamed at Arthur when Steven scampered out of the garage.

"Sam and Patty know they got a grandson?" Arthur asked calmly as he put away the paint thinner.

"Huh? What?" Yvonne asked, face a mask of shock.

"I'll be getting a D.N.A. test done, but I think you and I both know how it's going to turn out, don't we?" Arthur said. "And then I'll be going after Mr. Melks for eight years of child support."

"What?" Yvonne asked, still reeling from Arthur's sudden revelation.

"And there's absolutely no doubt I'll be going for a divorce; damned if I'm going to stay married to a slut that'll sleep with an eighteen year old kid," Arthur said throwing the stained rag into a five gallon bucket then securing the lid on the bucket.

"Arthur, don't," Yvonne said weakly, pleading.

'When'd you get the invitation?" Arthur asked, looking around and not seeing anything else he could fiddle with in the garage. "Huh? The wedding invitation?"

"I, how'd you, I threw that..." Yvonne stammered.

"Oh, I know you threw that away, then cried your little eyes out about your lover deciding he'd be better off marrying someone his own age rather than wasting his time with a fat ass wrinkled up old slut," Arthur said.

"How dare, how can you even talk to me like that?" Yvonne asked, tears of anger streaming from her eyes.

"Easy, actually," Arthur smiled tightly, avoiding biting down. "As shitty as you been treating me last four or five months? Really easy. But don't worry; in front of the children, I'll be as nice and polite as I have to be."

He opened the door to the kitchen and could hear Yvette talking with AJ.

"And I'll be going on Tuesdays and Thursdays, right after class but it's right next door to Tommy's so I can just walk there

"Too cool; I'm so glad you're getting back into that," AJ encouraged.

"Oh, Yvette's going back to Dance, but don't worry, I'll pay for that," Arthur said to Yvonne.

"I was telling..." Yvette said eyes alive with happiness.

"I heard," Arthur smiled a genuine smile. "And I heard AJ say that he thought that was horrible and terrible and really stinky."

"Dad, I did not!" AJ laughed.

"Oh my God! Tuesday's just... I have to get into form!" Yvette shrilled then dashed to her room.

"I really wish you'd ask me before you make..." Yvonne snapped.

"I have a new job, the new job pays a hell of a lot more," Arthur said, having to avoid biting down, having to fight to keep his voice civil in front of AJ.




Dentist's Chair



"So we should just throw..." Yvonne shrilled.

"We were affording it with the old job, we'll afford it with the new one," Arthur said. "And she said 'love you' to me after we signed her up. Hear that again I'll sign her up for every night of the week."

"Love you Dad," AJ quickly said.

"Love you too son no you're not getting that Marshall stack or that vintage Les Paul," Arthur said and hugged his son.

"Hate you, Dad," AJ laughed, returning his father's hug.

"Hate you more," Arthur smiled.

"Now, what do you mean..." Yvonne tried to bluff as AJ ran off.

"This weekend, all right?" Arthur spat out at her. "Let's just get through this weekend, oh! How in the hell did I not see that? Steven Christopher! There's not another Steven or Christopher anywhere in our family! Oh God, no kidding!"

Yvonne's face again lost all color.

That evening, Yvonne came out of the bedroom and smiled softly at Arthur. She raised the hem of her nightgown to flash him her hairy pussy.

"Listen, I know it's been a while since we..." she cooed.

"And it'll be a few hundred years before I'd ever want to touch your wrinkled up old ass again," Arthur pleasantly chirped. "But hang on; let me see if I can find some eighteen year old kid for you."

"You son of a bitch!" she snarled hatefully at him.

"You skanky old whore," he smiled back at her, which infuriated her even more. "Really? Think you can just waddle in here, throw a mercy romp at me and I'll just forget what an insufferable old bitch you've been for the past what? Five, six months? Forget that you were throwing the pussy on some neighborhood kid? Forget that you stuck me with someone else's kid and even named the boy after someone else? Get real, Sister. That pussy is not that good."

"And it will be a cold day in hell," she growled hatefully at him.

"No kidding, got that right," Arthur cheerfully agreed.

"Get out!" she screamed at him. "Get out of my bedroom! This instant!"

"Oh get real, Yvonne, get real," Arthur laughed bitterly. "My bed. Don't want to sleep in here with me? Then you move. You go sleep somewhere else."

Arthur did not know where Yvonne slept that evening but did not care. He slept very well.

Chapter 7

At the breakfast table, Steven seemed to be the only one oblivious to his mother's bitter rage, just kept talking about the U.L.D. Storm's loss to Paulson College Pumas.

"Their quarterback's the worst threw three interceptions and got sacked twice and their defense? I could walk through them!" the boy said.

"Are y'all... I don't have to go to dance," Yvette offered.

"Sweetheart," Arthur said, gripping the girl's hand. "We are not fighting over that. Believe me, both your mother and I are just so happy you'll be doing that again."

"Then what?" AJ dared ask.

"Listen, sometimes people do things, they hurt other people, they don't think about how their actions affect others," Arthur tried to muddy the waters.

"You mother fucker!" Yvette screamed and threw her glass of orange juice in his face. "You cheated on her!"

"No ma'am," Arthur said forcefully to Yvette's retreating back. "I did not cheat on your mother."

Steven was stunned into silence. AJ tried to eat but was having difficulty.

"I'll go talk with her," Arthur said, getting to his feet.

He wiped his face clean then went to his daughter's room.

Go away!" Yvette screamed at him from her face down position.

"Listen to me," Arthur said gently, rubbing her back.

"Don't touch me!" she sobbed out. "Keep your disgusting hands off of me!"

"Listen to me," he ordered. "I did not cheat on your mother! I would never; I love you and AJ and Steven far too much to ever ever cheat. I could never risk losing you or your brothers."

"Then why? Why are y'all always so angry? Why does everyone hate each other so much?" Yvette sobbed.

"I, Baby, I don't know," Arthur admitted. "I don't know where all the anger and hatred's coming from. If I knew, don't you think I'd try to stop it?"

"Daddy, I'm so scared," she bawled, crawling into his lap like a small child.

"Honey, you know I would never ever let anything or anyone hurt you; you're my precious little girl," Arthur soothed.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm sorry I called you that!"

"Uh yeah, where you learn words like that, huh?" he asked.

She didn't answer, just sobbed in his arms.

Finally, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

"Listen, all I want, I just want you to go to your dance classes, I just want you to be happy," he said.

He kissed the top of her head.

"Church in thirty minutes," he said and she released her hold on him.

He walked into his bedroom, to select a clean shirt and to dash into their bathroom to clean himself up.

"Uh, listen, it's been a while since we took the camper," Yvonne said, trying to sound pleasant, cheerful. "Why don't we..."

"We can't even get through a family breakfast without a fight; you really think we can get through a whole weekend?" Arthur snapped bitterly. "My daughter was sure that I was the one that cheated his way out of a happy family. You really think we can get through a whole weekend?"

Monday morning Arthur sent Paula a quick email. She must have been at her desk; the response was immediate.

"I need to get DNA tests done on all three of my children; do we do that here?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure I'm the father of two of them and I'm almost a hundred percent certain I'm not the father of one of them."

"Lab on the fourth floor," she said and opened her desk drawer and pulled out a business card. Assume you'll want a lawyer; "Sophia Coutre. Best lawyer in DeGarde, probably best in the state."

"Then I better get her before my wife does," Arthur said grimly.

"Arthur?" Paula said. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Paula. Nice to know I've got a boss that does care," Arthur smiled tightly.

In his own office, Arthur went on-line and looked at the schedule for his children's schools, trying to decide when to schedule their DNA tests.

"How was your weekend?" Jill cheerfully asked as she plopped down on her chair.

"Tense, uncomfortable, stilted; yours?" Arthur pleasantly responded.

"Wow, I didn't see you there," Jill said. "Did anyone tell you you're wasting your God damned time and it's stupid to be working when there's so much else that could be done and need to hurry up and get a man while you still can?"

"No, no one told me I needed to get a man," Arthur chuckled.

"Oh well, then what part did you walk in on?" Jill asked as she logged on to her computer.

"The part where my daughter threw orange juice in my face and screamed hateful things," Arthur said.

"That's usually my favorite part of the weekend," Jill admitted.

Arthur looked at the blonde girl as she cheerfully went about her business. She was slender, with a dancer's build, with long honey blonde hair that reached down to the bottom of her buttocks. The ergonomic chair made her sit with her small backside thrust out and he smiled.

She turned and looked at him and wondered for a brief moment what he was smiling at, then returned his smile.

When she smiled, her long face crinkled and her brown eyes scrunched, giving her an almost child-like look.

"Hurts my back, just looking at you on that goofy thing," he said.

"Oh no, come see," she insisted

Arthur did and gingerly sat, hand on her desk to keep his balance.

He involuntarily bit down and saw Molly laying on the desk, completely nude. Her hairless pussy with large butterfly tattoo, pierced navel, and small breasts, both with large gold hoops threaded through her nipples.

As he watched, a cock split the butterfly and fucked the petite Asian girl hard.

"Well?" Jill asked and Arthur realized he wasn't paying attention to how the chair actually felt.

"It's not the worst," he conceded. "I mean, it's not as bad as I thought, but I still don't think I could do eight straight hours of this."

She smiled happily and Arthur realized, just a simple act of listening to, and honoring her request to try out her chair meant a lot to her. Her father probably never listened to her. Her father probably never gave credence to her requests, her opinions.

He got to his feet and resolved to listen to his daughter as much as possible.

He resolved to listen to his Administrative Assistant as much as possible.

Again, they had lunch together and again, Arthur guided them to a table with others; three student nurses. Next time, he resolved to find some orderlies to sit with; the nurses were vulgar in their language and their topics of conversation.

"Oh my goodness," Jill whispered as they got on the elevator. "Knowing what I do now about a vagina, add lesbian to the list of things I'll never be."

"I'd have to think long and hard about it too," Arthur agreed.

Sophia Coutre had an opening that afternoons Arthur pasted a smile on his face and told Jill she was free to take a nap or whatever; he had no idea when he'd be back.

"Want me to come with you?" she asked.

"Uh no, no, but thank you so much," he said, realizing that the false smile wasn't fooling her.

"Mr. Petitjean?" Jill stated. "It'll be all right. It'll be hard as hell, but it'll be all right."

Jill was right; it was hard as hell, especially since Arthur had no way to exactly explain how he all of a sudden realized that his youngest child wasn't his child after all. But Sophia didn't seem to be overly concerned with that little piece of the puzzle.

"Can you bring them to the lab tomorrow for..." Sophia said.

"Wednesday, Arthur said firmly. "Tuesdays and Thursdays my daughter goes to dance and we are not going to interfere with that."

"Is she professional?" Sophia asked, mildly interested.

"No, but she's happy and that's more important to me than any of this is," Arthur said.

"My mother said being a lawyer was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard," Sophia said. "My dad said it was the greatest thing he'd ever heard and he honestly couldn't imagine being any prouder of me."

She smiled warmly at him.

"Daddies should do what they can for their little girls," she agreed.

Jill looked up when he walked back into his office.

"Should have taken you with me," Arthur said. "You were right; that was pretty hard. And it's going to get worse."

"And I will be right here for you, Mr. Petitjean," Jill promised.

Inside, she felt pure elation; her boss said she was right, said he should have taken her with him. The man honestly seemed to value her as a person.

That evening's dinner began like most; tense, silent.

"Oh, hey! Yvette, your leotard still fits?" Arthur suddenly asked.

"Oh my God, oh, I don't know!" Yvette said and leapt from the table.

"After you finish..." Arthur called out but she was already thundering up the stairs.

"I'll take her," Yvonne offered.

"That would probably be a good idea," Arthur agreed. 

"Bet it doesn't," Steven chuckled when they heard a wail from upstairs.

"Gee, you think?" Arthur chuckled and squeezed the boy's hand affectionately.

"See? See? He's yours," Yvonne said, eyes wide with fear.

Arthur shot Yvonne a murderous glare.

"You love him; why can't you, why do you want to just tear us apart?" Yvonne begged.

"Dad?" Steven asked.

"Not in front of the kids, huh?" Arthur spat at her.

"Dad?" Steven asked again.

"Yeah Buddy?" Arthur asked.

"It doesn't fit; it's too short," Yvette wailed, coming down the stairs.

"What, why, what's Mom talking about?" Steven asked.

"Again, all I know is, sometimes people do things without thinking about how it's going to hurt someone else," Arthur said. "Now, we're just trying to pick up the pieces and it ain't easy."

He patted the boy's hand reassuringly and smiled at Yvette.

"Your Mom's taking you to Goodwill after dinner," he said.

"Goodwill?" Yvette asked.

"Oh? What? Think your leotard's got to come from Babbage's like the last one did?" Arthur teased her.

"Whatever, Dad," Yvette smirked at him.

"My jersey came from Goodwill," Steven taunted her. "It's a Deuce McAllister and it is so awesome!"

"Don't think Ms. Kizzy, hey, is she married? Pretty woman like that ought to be, but I don't think Ms. Kizzy would let your sister dance around in a jersey, buddy," Arthur said.

"And I really don't think it'd fit anyway," Yvette said, a rare moment of conviviality pervading the dinner table.

That night, Yvonne tried again to entice Arthur to have sex.

"It was so nice, huh? Wasn't it nice? It was so nice; we were laughing and joking about Yvette dancing in a football jersey," Yvonne said, almost frantic.

"God damn, where was all this love for our family three days ago, huh? Where was all this shit before I figured out what a lying slut you are, huh?" Arthur spat, pushing her clutching hands away from him.

"I mean, I took Yvette to Babbage's and..." Yvonne stammered.

"Three days ago, you couldn't have given a shit if I dropped dead; now you're Miss Family Comes First?" Arthur spat.

Yvonne let a few tears slide down her face.

"But hey, let me ask you something, huh? Let me ask you, how would you feel you found out I had a kid with some eighteen, nineteen year old girl, huh?" Arthur asked. "You still be all concerned about keeping the family together?"

He plumped up his pillow.

"Oh, Wednesday, I'm taking the kids to St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center; there's a lab on the fourth floor does DNA," he snapped.

Yvonne fled from the room. Again, Arthur did not know where she slept that night, but he did not care.

Chapter 8

That morning, Yvette was so happy she was actually jiggling in her seat as she ate her breakfast.

"Good God, Yvette, if you don't want to do it, then don't!" Arthur teased.

AJ laughed and playfully pinched Yvette.

"Oh puke, a loving family breakfast," Steven said.

"Oh puke, a dead little brother," Yvette threatened.

Arthur was smiling when he entered his office. A few minutes after he'd logged onto the network, Jill scurried in.

"Good morning, Arthur greeted her and she looked and scrutinized his features, then smiled.

"You okay?" she asked and he smiled and nodded his head.

"Good," she smiled, her whole face scrunching up.

"You know, when you smile like that..." he said.

"Oh, I know, I look so stupid; believe me, I've heard it all before," she whined, covering her face with her hands.

"No, I was going to say you look wonderful, almost like a child," he said.

"Oh you were not," she accused.

"Oh, okay, Miss Mind Reader," he teased and again her face scrunched up.

A 'ding' alerted him that Jill had printed something and a moment later, she was standing in front of him for his approval. He took the sheet of paper and bit down to concentrate (he knew he probably needed glasses; his arms were getting too short.)

A feeling of warmth and affection rushed off of the page at him and he looked up at Jill.

"Looks good to me," he finally said and handed it back to her.

Again she smiled.

That evening, he parked in front of Kizzy's School of Dance and sat, watching his little girl as she sweated and strained. It was obvious that she was struggling to keep up with the slightly more experienced girls; having been away from dance for a while.

It was also obvious that she was elated to again be immersed in the music and the movement. Kizzy called an end to the class and the nine girls clapped for one another's efforts.

"Well, I might be a little prejudiced," Arthur said as Yvette scrambled into the car. "But I thought you looked great."

"Thanks Daddy," Yvette said, positively giddy.

"So, how did it go?" Yvonne asked with false cheerfulness as they bustled into the house.

"Yeah, did you crash into everything?" Steven teased.

Before Yvette's good mood could vanish, Arthur surprised everyone by picking the eight year old boy up, flipping him over his shoulder, and giving him two playful swats to his backside.

"No she did not, Smarty Pants," Arthur said, gave him two more light swats and put him back down. "She did great; you should be proud of your big sister."

"Whoa!" Steven giggled, surprised at his father's actions.

"Come on, I want to hear about it," AJ begged and Yvette launched into a rapid monologue.

Arthur decided not to tell the children about taking them to the lab; the mood was a happy one. The children were laughing a chattering and, even though Steven was being his usual smart mouth self, Yvette was actually seeing the humor in his remarks.

Arthur reminded them that it was a school night, there was homework that needed to be done, and even if their sweat smelled like perfume, they still needed to shower.

"With soap, Steven Christopher," he said.

Arthur puttered around as long as he could, but finally had to climb the stairs and go into his bedroom.

"Yvonne, say one thing and I will scream," Arthur warned when Yvonne came out of the bathroom, dressed in the red corset he'd bought for her one Valentine's Day.

She'd taken one look at the intimate apparel and declared it would be a cold day in Hell before she'd ever wear such a slutty get up.

In the harsh overhead lighting in the bedroom, Arthur saw a tired, frumpy woman that had given up the fight against gravity. The outfit did not look good or enticing; it actually looked cheap, tawdry.

"Sorry, Yvonne," he smiled tightly. "That does look good on you, but it's not going to work."

"But why not?" she whined.

"Yvonne, I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry, but the thought of you letting some kid screw you, then carrying his baby, the whole time telling me it's mine... Well God damn, pisses me off so damned bad I just want to hit you," Arthur snapped.

She slumped and returned to the bathroom. A moment later, she came out in one of his old tee shirts, turned off the light and got into bed.

"I'm sorry; I thought he was yours," Yvonne lied.

"Oh, Yvonne, really?" Arthur said, exasperated. "You named him after his daddy and you're going to sit there and tell me you thought he was mine?"

Yvonne began quietly crying.

"Tomorrow morning, I'm telling the kids I'm getting them after school so we can go to the lab," Arthur said.

"But why?" Yvonne wailed.

"Why? Why do you think, Yvonne?" Arthur snapped.

In the morning, Arthur ignored Yvonne's pleading eyes.

"Hey, Steven, you get out of school at what? Three thirty?" he asked.

"Yeah," Steven agreed.

"Okay, I'll be there to pick you up; Yvette, AJ, y'all get out at three ten, right?" he said.

"Yeah, why? What's going on?" Yvette asked, worriedly.

"Need to take y'all to my work; see I get a five percent discount on my insurance if we have your DNA on file," Arthur lied.

"What? Why?" Steven asked.

"So, when your sister finally kills you for that smart mouth of yours, we save money by being able to just match the DNA to the mud puddle that used to be you," Arthur lied.

Yvette and AJ did not buy it, but Steven laughed.

"You!" Yvette hissed hatefully at her mother. "You're the one!"

Yvonne fled from the room.

"Yvette, that's enough," Arthur said quietly as Yvette took in a deep breath, preparing to scream her hatred at the retreating form of her mother.

"But she..." Yvette cried out.

"Enough!" Arthur said. "Enough, Sweetheart, enough, all right?"

"Daddy," Yvette weakly begged.

"Daughter," Arthur said.

"Love you, Dad," AJ said as he picked up his empty plate.

"Love you too boy but you're still not getting that nineteen fifty four Fender Telecaster, sorry, no way, no how," Arthur said.

AJ placed a hand on his father's shoulder and smiled tightly.

"No, it's a nineteen sixty two Fender Twin Reverb I want," AJ lied. "See, its pre-CBS and..."

"Shut up, just shut up," Arthur said. "You lost me at 'Hello.'"

"Cute, Dad," AJ smiled. "It's supposed to be..."




Dentist's Chair



"Who cares?" Arthur asked.

Arthur picked up Yvonne's plate, hand touching the straw placemat and felt an overwhelming self pity and bitterness.

The three children were finally out of the house and Arthur climbed the stairs.

The bathroom door was closed and Arthur sat on Yvonne's side of the bed, the side closest to the door.

He suddenly received, when his hand came in contact with her pillow, a vision of her swallowing several pills. He couldn't see the bottle, couldn't read the label and the bottle was nowhere in sight. So he did not know if this was just a thought or if she had actually done it.

"Yvonne?" he called out.

There was no answer.

"Yvonne, I'm going to work now," he called out.

Still silence greeted him.

"Listen," he said to the closed door. "I know it seems pretty bad and well, hell, it is bad," he said. "But it's not the end of the world. We'll live through this. God, who knows? We might even be happier for it, huh?"

Chapter 9

Arthur sent Paula an email, letting her know of his need to go pick up his children for lab work. He tried to focus on that week's invoices and not think about his wife's possible suicide.

"It was just a thought," he tried to convince himself. "It was just a thought. We don't know if she..."

He looked up to see Paula Lambert standing in his doorway.

"Sorry," the attractive strawberry blonde said. "Want to talk about it?"

"Thank you," he said sincerely as he heard his outer office door open. "But in all honesty, if I need to talk about it, I've got a great AA."

"Yes you do," Paula smiled over her shoulder as Jill stood, stunned at what she'd just heard. "Good morning, Ms. Bookhammer."

"Uh, good morning, Ms. Lambert," the woman blushed hotly, and then scurried to log onto her computer.

"Jill, think it'd be a little quicker if I turned your computer on when I get in," Arthur offered.

"That, uh, that'd be great," Jill agreed, still blushing hotly.

He kept having nagging thoughts about his wife and kept pushing them back to the back of his mind.

For whatever reason, the postage meter was in his office. Jill finished stuffing a batch of invoices and brought the envelops to him.

Again, when he touched the papers at the same moment se was touching them, he felt this warmth and affection envelop him and he smiled at her. She gave him one of her face scrunching smiles and he smiled wider.

"Quit!" she laughed and scurried back to her chair, covering her face with her hand.

That afternoon, as he prepared to leave, Jill grabbed for her purse.

"Thank you, Jill, but this really is between me and the kids," he said.

Reluctantly, she put her purse back down.

AJ and Yvette somberly got into the car.

"Daddy, can we talk?" Yvette asked.

"God, please just let..." Arthur sighed, trying to negotiate around an inconsiderate driver.

"If y'all do get a divorce we want to live with you," AJ quickly said.

"Yeah," Yvette agreed, squeezing her father's arm.

"God, we really don't have to worry about all of that right now, okay?" Arthur said, trying to avoid biting down as the loutish teenager, realizing that the car behind him was in a real hurry, drove as slowly as possible.

"Ass hole," Arthur snarled and put on his turn signal to turn onto the next street.

The loutish boy did turn onto the side street and Arthur laughed as he continued straight.

Steven bounded into the car and complained that Yvette got to sit up front.

"Son, she's a girl; girls just get to do more than boys, that's all," Arthur said.

"Well, that's not fair," Steven said.

"Okay, which one of you told your brother life is fair?" Arthur demanded. "Huh? Which one? I'll let you off right here, I swear."

"Yvette did," Steven declared. "Drop her off and I'll sit up front."

"I did not!" Yvette screeched. "I'm going to kill you!"

"And that, right there, is why we need this DNA on file," Arthur smiled.

The lab assistant was quick and efficient; getting the blood samples before Steven even had a chance to react.

The woman did look at Yvette's arm, and then said she needed the other arm and drew the sample.

AJ was already ready, smiling at the attractive African American woman, his blush shining through his pimples. She made him blush even hotter when she smiled back.

"You got you some pretty eyes," she said, white teeth gleaming.

AJ stammered his thanks and told her she had a beautiful smile.

"Do I got pretty eyes?" Arthur asked as he offered his arm.

Eh, they all right, I guess," she teased.

"Now, we need," he whispered to her.

"Jill already been down here and told me," the woman whispered back. "But I be up later talk at you, hear?"

"Now, come on; come see my office," Arthur said.

When he opened the door, Yvette took one look and said "Miss Bookhammer!"

"Yvette! How you been?" Jill asked, scrunching up her face in a smile.

"You two know each other?" Arthur asked.

"Miss Bookhammer used to work at the Dance Studio," Yvette happily proclaimed.

"It wasn't work; I just kind of volunteered there," Jill explained.

"I thought she had a dancer's physique," Arthur thought to himself and smiled.

"This that desk?" Steven was already in his office.

"Yeah, see how easy it would be not to see it?" Arthur asked.

"Crash!" AJ agreed and he and Steven and Arthur shared a laugh.

"Okay, run my kids home and I'll be right back," Arthur said.

"God, I love you," Jill said to the closed door.

Arthur fought hard against the feeling of dread as he dropped the kids off at the house; suppose Steven was the one to discover his mother's body?

"It's just a thought," he told himself as AJ unlocked the front door. "It doesn't mean she actually did it; it's just a thought."

"Daquilla down in the lab said she needs to see you," Jill said when he returned, already reaching for her telephone.

"Think I know why, but please let her know I'm available," Arthur agreed.

"Knock, knock," the African American woman said, entering the office. "It all right I close this?"

"Well, Jill's my AA, I trust her with just about everything," Arthur said, earning him a look of devotion from Jill. "But if you really think it needs to be closed..."

"I uh, when your daughter rolled up her sleeves," Daquilla whispered, even though the door was firmly shut.

"I just found out she's been cutting herself," Arthur agreed.

"I mean, they was old ones; I don't know she doing it somewhere else but..." Daquilla hissed.

"I don't either, but she recently got back into dancing; she's a lot happier now," Arthur whispered. "Also, there were a couple of girls at school that were bullying her but she found out, you stand up to some bullies, they run off and find an easier target."

"Okay, just had let you know, know what I'm saying?" the woman smiled, relieved.

"Hey, Daquilla? Thanks, I appreciate it," Arthur said, offering is hand.

His cell phone rang and he answered it.

Yvette screamed something unintelligible into the phone and Arthur walked to the door of his office.

"Yes, Jill, I need you to come with me," he said. "Yvette, Yvette, quit screaming; I'm on my way home right now."

"Yes ma'am, Jill said into her cell phone. "Please send a police car to One four one seven Gimmeli Road, DeGarde. The children's' father is on his way now."

"Oh, I hadn't even thought of..." Arthur said.

"That's why you pay me the big bucks," Jill said, jogging to keep up with him.

"And how'd you know my address?" Arthur asked as he accelerated out of the parking lot.

Jill didn't answer.

"And when we got inside, none of the lights were working so I went to the garage and turned the breaker box back on," AJ was blubbering to a uniformed officer while an paramedic stepped outside and shook his head no to the other officer.

"Dad!" AJ sobbed and hugged onto Arthur.

"Where's Yvette?" Arthur asked. "Where's Steven?"

The girl's in the back of the ambulance; she fainted, sir," the paramedic said.

"Steven's hiding in the camper," AJ sobbed.

Jill went straight to the ambulance. The paramedic looked at Arthur questioningly, and then shrugged.

The police officer quietly informed Arthur that his wife was upstairs, in the master bathroom.

"Near as we can figure, she was in the tub and dropped the hair dryer in the water," he whispered. "Need the M.E. do a full..."

"Daddy!" Yvette sobbed Jill right behind her.

Arthur held the sobbing girl for a few minutes.

"Jill, please stay out here with them," he asked. "I need to find Steven."

"He's in..." AJ offered.

The camper was locked but Arthur had the key on his key ring and unlocked it.

The interior was sweltering hot and a little humid as he climbed up into it.

He found the eight year old boy sitting on the edge of the large bed, just staring into space.

"Hey, Buddy, what you doing in here?" he asked quietly.

"It's because of me, isn't it?" the boy asked.

"What? What's because of you?" Arthur asked.

"Mom killed herself because of me, didn't she?" Steven asked, now looking at his dad, the first tears beginning.

"What? No! No, son, no," Arthur said, gathering the boy into his arms.

"Is it because I got paint all over the place?" the boy now sobbed bitterly.

"I cleaned it all up, remember?" Arthur soothed.

By the time Arthur got the boy's histrionics under control, there were two more police cruisers in front of the house and a few of his neighbors milled about. Jill had Yvette and AJ by the garage, holding both their hands.

"Hey, come here," Yvette said quietly to Steven.

She hugged her brother tightly.

"Mom had an accident," Yvette said to Steven. "She had an accident and now we really need each other, okay? I really need you, and AJ needs you and you might not believe this, but you need me ..."

"I know," Steven cried, hugging her as tightly as he could.

"Dad, is it because we went to the hospital today?" AJ asked.

"Son, damn, I don't know, all right? I don't know," Arthur said. "Shit! I haven't even been inside yet! I don't know."

The St. Elizabeth Parish Coroner's van pulled up and an enormous man got out and groaned.

"Upstairs, third door on left, bathroom inside," Sheriff Bob Chastaine informed the Medical Examiner.

"Of course it's upstairs," the man complained. "None of them ever die on the ground floor."

"Sorry my wife's an inconvenience for you," Arthur spat angrily at the man.

There was no suicide note but there was very little doubt that it had been a suicide. The hair dryer was plugged into the outlet next to the vanity and Yvonne had stretched it over to the tub. An examination of the contents of her stomach would also show that she'd swallowed several prescription strength pain relievers on an almost empty stomach.

Chapter 10

"Hey, we're taking the camper out this weekend; there's this site up north, just outside of Paulton," Arthur said as Jill rapidly typed out her password.

Jill shrugged out of her heavy winter coat and looked at him.

"In the dead of winter?" she asked.

"Hey, it's been a few months since..." Arthur said, not completing that sentence. "And finally got a weekend where they don't have this or that to go to. And with Martin Luther King Day, they're out of school on Monday and all."

He smiled.

"Plus that, winter's the absolute best time to go camping," he insisted. "Makes you really appreciate a sleeping bag, appreciate half cooked half raw hot dogs, a nice roaring fire. And there's no mosquitoes."

"Oh, believe me, if there's a mosquito within a hundred miles, it'll find me," Jill assured him.

"So you want to go?" he asked as he typed something into his computer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her. Her face went through confusion, disbelief, then wonder and finally elation.

"So what, when," Jill asked.

"Need to run home and pack some thermal underwear, some sweats, some jeans, a pair of tennis shoes you just don't care about and a toothbrush, Arthur hit 'Print' on his computer and printed out the items he just named. "You do not need to worry about make up, shampoo, soap; you can do all of that when we get back on Monday night. Better hurry; we're leaving at noon."

"Food? First Aid Kit?" Jill asked, rapidly pulling her coat back on.

"Food, first aid kit, other emergency supplies, your sleeping bag and travel pillow already in the camper; you and Yvette will be sharing the big bed; Steven's got a hammock AJ gave him for Christmas; he's dying to try it out," Arthur said as Jill's face broke into a face scrunching smile.

"My sleeping bag and pillow's already in there, huh?" she asked.

"I was about to ask them and before I could even say anything Yvette was begging me to invite you," Arthur admitted.

She scurried out of the office. A moment later the outer office door closed and Arthur smiled.

She did not return to the office; Arthur sat on her goofy chair, squinted at her computer screen and typed out her password and clocked her out.

"In the dead of winter?" He heard Jill's voice as he put his hand on the chair to push himself up.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, I'm going camping! With him! And the kids! Oh my god!" he heard Jill murmur and he smiled but finally let go of her chair.

He looked at his own garish green chair. Slowly, over time, the imbedded memories of Molly were being replaced with his own memories. And he had to admit, his memories were extremely boring memories. He came in, he worked, and he lusted after his twenty two year old Admin and then went home.

Arthur shut everything down and left his office. He and Paula Lambert reached the elevators at the same time.

"Ooh, I love an outdoors man," Paula Lambert teased him and Arthur laughed.

"It's a fully loaded camper; we're not really the outdoors type," he said and wished her a good weekend.

"Arthur?" she asked. "How are the kids holding up?"

"They're doing okay," Arthur said. "Steven had a lot of trouble at first but Yvette, God, now there's a shock, Yvette really stepped up and became a big sister, instead of the brooding little brat she'd been for months before then."

"And how's her dancing?" Paula smiled as they both walked toward the back door for the employee parking lot.

"She is, I mean, wow, she is just phenomenal, yeah, I know, I'm her dad and I might be just a little bit biased, but she's just so good at it," Arthur enthused.

Both braced themselves for the blast of cold air. Both raced for their cars, the conversation over.

Jill was waiting for him at his home. Out in the front yard, both she and Yvette were doing handstands to the amusement of AJ and Steven.

"Notice how the blood rushes to your head when you do that?" Arthur asked when Yvette and Jill returned to standing.

"Uh huh," Yvette agreed, smiling happily.

"Know why it doesn't rush to your feet when you stand back up?" Arthur asked as AJ picked up his acoustic guitar case.

"Daddy!" Yvette warned, knowing the answer.

"Because your feet aren't empty," Steven hooted.

"Ooh, whatever," Jill snarled at him and he stepped behind Yvette.

Nuh uh, get out of here," Yvette said. "You said it, not me."

Arthur smiled as he unlocked the camper and helped them stash their gear.

He almost dropped Jill's canvas bag; he could again feel such an overwhelming affection embedded in the fibers.

He did drop Yvette's bag; he put his hand on the mattress to stow the bag behind the bed in the cupboard.

"Oh, God, Steven!" he heard Yvonne's voice cry out and then he saw them coupled and a sweating mass.

"Oh yeah, oh God yeah, oh!" Steven Melks grunted and Arthur saw him stiffen.

"Did you, oh God, did you, I told you not to come in me! God damn! Fuck! I told you pull out, aw son of a bitch!" Yvonne shrieked.

"Dad?" Yvette asked concern all over her face.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, was off in La la land there for a second," Arthur said.

"Did you send us a post card?" AJ asked.

"Yeah, said 'having a wonderful time, glad you're not here,'" Arthur said and finished helping them stow everything.

"And remember, we got to stop by Bordelon's," Steven reminded Arthur as they backed out of the driveway.

"Bordelon's?" Jill asked.

"It's this horrible little greasy spoon in Paulton where the staff is as rude as possible," Arthur explained.

"If they recognize you, first thing they say is 'oh not you again? Thought we got rid of you for good,'" Yvette told her, giggling.

"And they always say ''Hot dog and chili, extra spit' on mine," Steven laughed.

"It's truly awful," Arthur smiled.

Jill and Yvette spent much of the four hour drive huddled together, whispering and giggling. AJ listened to music on his IPod; Arthur had to laugh. The boy's IPod held damned near a thousand songs and spanned over nearly every genre. The boy even had some bluegrass and Classical songs on the device. If anyone discovered the boy's music library, they'd think he had multiple personalities. But the boy just loved music.

Steven designated himself as navigator, but really, once they were on Highway 467, it was a straight shot up to Paulton, Louisiana.

"And there it is; I'm getting the bacon burger this time," Steven yelled, pointing to the restaurant.

"Oh, it's you again," the waitress sneered as they trooped in.

"No, Jill, that's Yvette's place," Steven said when Jill sat down on Arthur's left.

"No, it's fine," Yvette smiled, sitting to Jill's left.

When their food came, Jill's plate had one solitary French fry on it.

"Oh, I knew you'd be trouble," the waitress grumbled when Jill pointed this out.

"There, happy now?" the woman said as she put a plate of French fries down.

"Okay, think you've wasted enough of my time or are y'all getting dessert too?" the woman asked as Steven helped Jill eat her French fries.

"What, you really think we can take any more food poisoning?" Arthur asked, smiling.

"I think you'll take as much as I give you," the woman sneered.

It was dark by the time they reached their camp site and Steven grumbled because Arthur nixed the idea of stringing up the hammock outdoors for him to sleep in.

"Honey, it'll be down to fifteen degrees tonight," Jill said gently. "I know you're super tough, but even you would have a pretty hard time when it's that cold."

In the morning, there was a layer of frost on the ground and Yvette pointed that out to Steven, who had to agree; it would have been too cold for him to sleep outside.

"You would have been a steven-sicle!" Jill claimed as she and Arthur fixed bacon and scrambled eggs for breakfast.

"Hey, Strangers! I thought that was your camper," a woman in her early seventies called out.

"Audrey, how are you doing?" Arthur smiled. "Good God, you look younger every time I see you."

"Oh, you liar!" the woman laughed, slapping him on his arm.

"You," she said to Steven. "Thinking of falling into the river this time?"

"No!" Steven cried out. "It's too cold do that!"

"Hi Miss Audrey," AJ said.

"Bring your guitar?" the woman asked. "Benny's got his banjo; even got some new strings on it."

"Where's Yvonne?" Audrey asked, staring hard at Jill.

"She uh, she committed suicide a couple months back," Arthur said.

"She what?" Audrey gasped.

"Yes ma'am; AJ's one that found her," Yvette said.

"Oh, Arthur; oh Honey, I know you must be devastated," Audrey soothed.

"Well, naturally," Arthur agreed.

After breakfast, they hiked one of the trails around the campsite.

"It really is beautiful out here," Jill said, breathing deeply of the crisp pine scented air.

Yvette took Jill's hand in hers and Jill smiled at the girl.

"Mom would have stayed back at the camper, reading or something," Yvette said.

"Or dying of a headache," AJ agreed.

"Hey, that's enough," Jill said before Arthur could interject. "We're not all into Nature, all right?"