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Reconciliation

By: RisiaSkye



"I'm sorry to pull you away from the rest of the family, hon, but I just wanted to get away for a little bit. I swear if one more person tells me how sorry they are, I'm gonna scream." She paused, seemed to collect her thoughts. "I'm so glad you came. Your father would have been glad, too."

I just listened, not really knowing what to say. It came to mind to say something flippant about the likelihood of anything pleasing my father, but on the heels of that thought came a memory of the night before, and my promises to myself. I didn't want to make things harder by starting one of our old fights. I suspected that Mom didn't know what to say to me either, as she suddenly became fascinated by the hideous local artwork adorning nearly every surface in the room. So, we sat staring around the room, avoiding eye contact, surrounded by enough people to afford an unusual kind of privacy in the little coffee shop. I gazed in fascination at the iced tea glass in front of me, beads of condensation flowing steadily into my fingers. I glanced back at my mother; she seemed to have found a favorite of the many orange and avocado paintings on the chipping walls. By that time the coffee shop had begun to annoy me in earnest, its efforts to deliver a ramshackle, bohemian air to a Yuppie coffee shop on Stevens Creek were giving me a bone-crushing headache.

"How are you?" she asked, trying to sound unaffected and casual, as if minutes hadn't passed since we last acknowledged each other. She sounded small and beaten. I pitied her then, for the first time in years. Poor Mom, always trying to keep it together.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." Even to myself, my voice sounded lifeless, as if unconvinced by my own statement. I looked up at her, found her looking at me intently, and looked quickly back down at the glass topped table.

She glanced at her glass as she raised it to her lips. I watched her take a sip, lower the glass, and delicately touch the corners of her mouth to check her lipstick. Same as ever, she was keeping her best battle face on.

"I just didn't know who else to talk to , Brenda...," her voice cracked, and she visibly checked herself. Straightening up, and brushing imaginary lint from her expensive lapels, she started again. "It's been so hard, you have no idea. He was so weak, and I couldn't help him. Towards the end, there was just nothing left. I don't know what I'm going to do now."

I measured my words carefully. "I'm very sorry, Mother." It was nearly a whisper, but there was nothing appropriate to say. There was nothing I could say to make her feel better, and she just couldn't help herself, at least not emotionally. I knew that she was devastated. She had barely managed a curt hello the night before when I saw her at the viewing. She looked small and lost next to my father's casket. He had managed to look strong and imposing, and impossibly stern even in death. I hadn't stayed for long.

Later, leaving the viewing, I had decided to accept her breakfast invitation. Back in my hotel room, I had taken a faded family picture from my suitcase. It was the last real family picture. Looking at it, I was amazed that I had been able to leave only months after the sixteenth birthday party where it was taken. I looked so young, and small and weak like my mother. The sweater I wore in the picture had been a favorite; I remembered wearing it to hide the bruises, it's high neck the perfect cover.

I had grown tired years before of wondering why my father was so angry, why my mother stayed, why nobody did anything when it seemed like everyone knew. It was all that either of them knew, I think. To him, it was love. I still don't know what it was to my mother. I wanted to forgive myself for leaving them to each other, but I knew that in order to do it, I was going to have to let go of all the shit I'd been carrying around since I was a teenager.

"He was a good man, Brenda. I know that the two of you had your differences, but he was a good man, and he always loved you, even after you left us. He was really hurt, but he still loved you." I hadn't really caught up with her words until halfway through, and when she met my eyes, I must have looked confused. "You know, he missed you terribly, especially at the end." Her voice quavered, but her face remained expressionless.

I took a deep breath. Was this going to be it, then? Were we going to have the same old conversation? I knew that she couldn't face up to my father, she never had. I doubted that she would suddenly be tempted to confront the past, just because he was dead. "I'm sorry, Momma."

"It's really a shame that you never got to know him, Brenda. If you could have only known him the way that I did, you would have seen..."

"I did." It was only a whisper, maybe not even that; something that I mumbled to myself.

"I'm sorry, what, honey?"

I said, "I know Momma, it's a real shame."

We drank our bitter tea in silence. At 11 o'clock she stood up. I offered to drive her to the funeral, but she went on about something having to do with flower arrangements for the cemetery, and we departed separately.

The service was almost majestic. There were red roses everywhere. The casket was up two stairs and on a pedestal, as if my father was the overseer of the proceedings as much in death as in life. He had an enormous family, and the pews of the funeral home's small chapel were filled to capacity. My brother, the severe looking man with the beady eyes who was taking over the family business, delivered a glowing eulogy of my father; all of his contributions, his generous love of his family and friends, his dedication to honesty and principle. Finally, it was time for the family to say their last goodbyes.

As I stood by the casket, I looked at my father's face, finally peaceful, lacking all of the anger I was accustomed to seeing there. I touched his hand, and brushing away unexpected tears, I tucked into his coffin a letter I had written him years before, just before I ran away from home. Around it I had wrapped another letter written only the night before, my letter of letting go. "I'm forgiving you, Dad. I have to go on with my life now." There was nothing else to say. It was harder than I had ever imagined it would be to let go of that letter, to face the fear that without anger to hold me together, I wouldn't know how to define myself. Anger at him, at them, had fueled me for so long, I was afraid I would disappear without it, as though its weight didn't hold me back but kept me grounded in this world.

I lingered for a moment, remembering all the night he had come in drunk, all the lies he had told my mother, all the times I had been hurt and afraid. But for the first time in years I also remembered how he had laughed when he was teaching me to ride a bike, and the clear summer night that we had spent on the back porch, when he taught me that even the stars have names. There were people waiting behind me. It was time to move on.

Stepping down off the platform, I saw my mother huddled in a small, clucking group of old aunts and distant cousins. I looked at her expensively tailored dress, and remembered all the times she had tried to patch her torn and faded thrift store clothes after he had torn them half off of her. Maybe some things are too painful to remember, especially if you depend on other people for your strength. She looked up and caught my eye. I walked over to the group.

"I'm going to head over to the cemetery. Does anybody need a ride?" They all looked at my mother. She in turn looked at me pleadingly. "How are you holding up, Mom?" Her eyes were wet, and to my shock, her eye makeup was running. I couldn't remember ever having seen her without her face being perfectly made up. She had always told me makeup could hide anything. "You don't look like you're up to driving right now. Can I give you a ride?"

"Thank you so much, Brenda." I couldn't shake the feeling that she was beaten by him again, broken in a new way. "I'm sorry to do that to you, are you sure its alright?"

I stared at her for a moment before realizing that she was apologizing for needing a ride. "It's okay, mom. Let's just keep moving. It's almost over now."

Reconciliation



Butterflies flitted and danced in her stomach. Roma would have to leave within the next 10 minutes if she wanted to be in time for her meeting. She swept the kohl stick across her eyes highlighting the sultriness of her features. 

'"Will he notice?" 

She was standing before the mirror checking her appearance one last time. She told herself that she didn't care whether he noticed. But the butterflies fluttering inside her were proof she was lying to herself. She remembered how Aryan had emphatically said, "I have to meet you."

Of course he also said he would need to hand over the documents in person since he failed to reach the courier service in time, but all that seemed irrelevant now. The urgency in his tone portended a different purpose for his desire to meet her. 

Three years had passed since their last coupling. Roma was pregnant then, with his child. She still couldn't understand why their child became the reason they split up. Initially there were just disagreements, soon followed by arguments. They both said hurtful, unforgivable things to each other. Aryan was not ready for a baby and blamed her for the pregnancy. She was not ready for a baby and was angry with him for acting immature and unsupportive. 

Things only seemed to get worse between them so Roma suggested they give each other some space to figure things out. He obliged, generously. With the exception of the occasional obligatory phone call during birthdays and festivals he disappeared from her life. The times they did speak, he never enquired about the child that had driven them apart. It felt as if he resented the baby for replacing him in her life.

For three years she avoided meeting him. He never saw their beautiful daughter and he never asked to either. He just didn't seem to care. Roma couldn't bear to be around someone who refused to even acknowledge the existence of her daughter. Unfortunately all her other feelings for him didn't just go away. She still wanted him, desired to feel him deep inside her, to fill her the way he used to, the way only he could, but, she couldn't forget how Aryan had hurt her, abandoned her and left her to deal with everything all alone on her own. 

It was three years since a man had even held her or caressed her. She tried dating but couldn't feel the connection to allow any kind of intimacy to develop with the men she met. After a point she lost count of the nights she cried in longing. Her inability to bring her own climax only added to her frustration. She longed to feel her breasts smashed against Aryan's hard chest. But she was too proud to say these things to him on the rare occasions that he did call. Instead she spoke with him as she would perhaps any casual acquaintance. She never even hinted at the mess Aryan had left her in. 

She chose their meeting place, a crowded mall, as she wasn't certain she could trust herself to be alone with him. Once again she wondered about how he felt about her now. He expressed guilt about the way he had behaved, but never any regret or a desire to reconcile. She knew he longed for her too, well, she hoped anyway.

Roma smoothed down the front of her dress and wondered if Aryan would notice the changes in her body. Her ass was softer and rounder now and her breasts had grown heavier since the baby. Would he find her body more appealing now, she asked herself, or would he be put off by it. He was athletic and appreciated people who took care of their bodies. The thought unnerved her. She considered changing her clothes. Perhaps a pantsuit would make her appear leaner and more defined instead of the shapeless summer dress she was wearing. She had picked the dress because it felt modest. She didn't notice how the low neckline teased with a glimpse of her creamy orbs. 

As she pushed another unruly curl back into place she laughed at herself. She was embarrassed by the nervous anxiety she was feeling over meeting someone who had caused her so much hurt and grief. She reminded herself that she didn't need to look good for him but another part of her pointed out that it couldn't hurt to show him what it was he'd been missing all this time. 

She panicked when she spotted the time on the hallway clock. If she didn't leave right away she would be late. Throughout the course of their relationship one of Aryan's pet peeves was that she always left him wait for her. The last thing she needed now was to give him an excuse to get started on that again.

She slipped on a pair of sandals and took off. As she ran to stop a taxi she realized how wobbly her footwear felt. Roma cursed under her breath for not trying on the sandals before. She always wore heels around Aryan when they went out together because he loved to admire her ass. But she stopped wearing them after the baby- they just weren't practical any more. So she wasn't aware of how her sandals made her ass jut out invitingly or the jiggle which accompanied every step she took. 

Once seated in the cab she gave directions to the driver and fell back into her reverie. "Does he miss me?" the words weighed heavily on her mind. 

So caught up was she in her thoughts she didn't realize she reached her destination till the cabbie asked her for the fare a second time. She quickly paid the driver and rushed out. Once more her legs wobbled. This time she was uncertain if the problem was due to the heels or her knees. 

Roma had suggested they meet in one of the crowded coffee shops inside. She picked the Coffee Shop because of its open layout. There were no secret nooks or corners or large potted plants providing even the semblance of privacy. She hated Aryan for the way he'd left things between them but she wasn't foolish enough to deny the passion between them. She had always found it hard to resist him. Even after their fights he always managed to get her body to respond no matter what her frame of mind. So no, she absolutely didn't trust herself to be alone with him. As far as she was concerned even meeting him was playing with fire. 

The realization that she was most likely tempting fate by meeting him Roma lost her courage and considered turning back. She told herself she could call Aryan and ask him to hand the documents over to someone else. If she used their baby as an excuse to stand him up he wouldn't even question her. In that moment she comprehended that it was best if she continued maintaining a distance from him, just as she had the past three years. Having made up her mind Roma spun around on her heels to hail a cab. As she raised her arm to stop a taxi she sensed him. Even before she actually saw him Roma knew that Aryan was standing beside her, staring.

"Sorry I wasn't here sooner." Her heart skipped a beat. Roma had longed to hear Aryan say those same words but in a different context.

"You couldn't have been waiting too long though, right?" 

She thought she saw him smile but wasn't sure as she was avoiding looking directly at him. Her mind was racing with a million thoughts; the butterflies had returned with a vengeance and she heard her heart race so loud that she was sure that everyone was looking at her for the noise she was making. She opened her eyes and looked around- everything appeared to be normal while he stood there, looking at her expectantly. Then she remembered that he had asked her a question.

"Right. No. Just got here." 

Was that really her voice Roma wondered; it had sounded so harsh and strained. 

Aryan nodded, "Good. Let's go in." 

She felt his fingers on the small of her back negotiating her towards the entrance of the mall. Her resolve to back out melted. Besides she was too tongue-tied to talk her way out of this now. She saw no choice but to go through with this meeting. Besides, she figured, it shouldn't last more than 30 minutes after which she'd probably never meet Aryan again. 

While walking in Roma looked at him sideways, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression but she was unable to see his face as he was a step ahead of her and several inches above. She used to tease Aryan when they were together by calling him a 'freak' for being so tall. He was 6'3" and because he played rugby at one of the local clubs for years he had developed a muscular body. 

The thought of Aryan's body produced a momentary flash from the past- Roma sinking her teeth into his muscular shoulder while she rode him through her orgasm. She let out an involuntary moan, which she didn't realise was audible till she saw Aryan stop and stare at her blankly. She felt mortified but gained courage after she managed to convince herself that he would have in all likelihood failed to recognize the sound. He turned to face forward but she caught the smirk on his face before he did; he knew. She was annoyed with the unfairness of the situation. He still seemed to affect her while remaining oblivious to her. 

Roma had never seen Aryan so casually dressed. Unlike her, he seemed to have put little thought into his attire- an old pair of jeans, a button down shirt and sneakers. 

"Sneakers!" she thought in disbelief, "He comes wearing sneakers and jeans when I've spend hours fretting and fussing about what I should wear."

She was upset at him for the lack of effort on his part when she had put so much thought in hers. And yet it all seemed to be lost on him. This made her furious and she walked a little faster, away from the guidance of the fingers pressed against her back. However she had miscalculated her strides. The sudden change in pace coupled with her high heels and jelly knees made her stumble forward. 

Fortunately for Roma, he grabbed her by the waist in time. She would've thanked him for his timely catch if not for the snicker that quickly followed. She glared at him and straightened herself. He didn't let go of her waist and she would've suspected that there was some tenderness in the way he held her if not for the smirk on his face. 

"Damn him!" she cursed in her mind.

After what felt like an eternity to Roma, they were finally seated in the coffee shop. Just as she hoped there were plenty of people and no privacy. Aryan chose to sit on the vacant chair to her right instead of opposite her; his back to the people in the cafe. Because the table was small and his legs so long they were stretched under the table blocking the movement of her legs. As she sat there now Roma felt her bare knees pressed against the side of his thighs. She almost groaned from the intimacy of the contact but checked herself in time. She wasn't going to give him the pleasure of knowing how much he still affected her.

She couldn't tell if he deliberately sat the way he did to unnerve her; his face indicated that his mind seemed to be elsewhere. It was as if he'd forgotten about her and drifted off to another place. Roma felt confused. 

"He is the one who called and said he needs to meet me. If he didn't want to be here he could've just passed the docs on through someone else!"

Neither spoke, their situation made small talk impossible. He signalled to the waitress for the menus and then looked at her. For a second she could've sworn that she caught him staring down the neckline of her dress, except that, given how much taller he was, he could've simply been looking down at her.

Roma didn't like that; no one was going to look down on her, least of all him. She pulled herself up and straightened her back and her neck and finally lifted her chin up defiantly to be in level with his face. Before either of them could speak the waitress was there to hand them the menus.

It was past lunch hour and her nerves had prevented her from eating anything all day, so she was not surprised at how hungry she suddenly felt. At the same time Roma wanted to get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible and a meal would only add to the time.

"Have you eaten yet?" 

His question startled her because of the nearness of his voice. The noise of the café made it impossible to hear another person unless they were talking directly into the other's ear. He wasn't looking at her though; he appeared to be studying the menu before him. 

"Yes," she lied while her stomach treacherously growled on cue. 

Aryan laughed at the sound. 

"Come on, pick something to eat. I skipped lunch and I'm ready to pass out. And from the sound your stomach's making you seem hungry too." 

He sounded sincere enough, so she agreed. They waited for the waitress to return with their order. Roma looked up at him, once more mustering the courage to speak but stopped short. Aryan engrossed in his thoughts was drumming away at the table. Watching his slender fingers tap the table reminded her of the numerous times he had tapped away at her clit coaxing her into an orgasm. Her mouth felt very dry all of a sudden but her nether lips seemed to be growing wetter by the thought. She squirmed on her seat. 

He looked up at her, brought out of his reverie by her sudden movement; her squirming had caused her knee to rub into his thigh. She imagined she caught a wicked grin flash across his face as if he had just read her mind. Fortunately for her the waitress had returned to the table before he could say anything- if he had been ready to say something.

Roma nibbled on the muffin she ordered with her cappuccino while Aryan chomped away on his sandwich with the mayonnaise dripping down the side. He was such a messy eater. 

"Slob," she said to herself. His poor table manners had always annoyed her. What used to annoy her even more was his habit of eating a sandwich in bed after sex. And if he happened to drop any crumbs on her, something he did often enough, he would just lick them straight off of her. 

The memory of his skilful tongue made her skin tingle. Roma squirmed once more. And like before the movement was not lost on Aryan who was looking at her now. She could feel him looking at her but she kept her gaze focused on the muffin in her hand, refusing to look up at him. She was pretty sure he could tell she was blushing now. 

He leaned in, "Are you hot?" he whispered, making her nearly jump out of her skin.

"Whaaat?" Her response sounding more like a moan. 

Aryan drew himself closer to her ear and spoke in what sounded like a whisper again.

"You're turning red. I figured maybe it's too hot in here for you." 

Roma's hair was sitting in waves around her face and shoulders; maybe why he didn't realize she was blushing. 

"Yeah," she said shrugging her hair off her shoulders and proceeded to tie it into a neat little bun above. "Probably coz of the hair being open."

"It's so much longer now," he said staring at her hair. "You should leave it open. It looks nicer. I remember you keeping your hair tied all the time, except..." 

She was grateful for the prudence he had shown by not finishing off his thought because she knew exactly what he was getting at. Often during sex he would grab fistfuls of her hair and grab her before thrusting deeper into her. She would come almost on command when he would grab a hold of her hair and yank her head back towards him while his hips ground into her ass. She squirmed again. This time Roma felt Aryan's hand grip her knees. 

"Stop it."

He was looking at her face intently but his hand continued to remain on her knees. Aryan raised the coffee mug to his lips with his free hand. He took a sip, his eyes never leaving her face. She squirmed under his gaze and felt his hand grip her knees tighter still. His touch was like fire on her skin. 

"Stop squirming. I haven't done anything to make you squirm..." His gaze dropped to her cleavage while he licked the foam off his lips suggestively, "...yet."

The last word rolled out his mouth slow and deliberate, almost like a promise of pleasures to come.

Roma couldn't take it anymore; her body was hungry for his touch and her longing was getting painful. She needed to get away from him for sense to return. She reminded herself that this was Aryan, the man who had promised to love her and then abandoned her when she was pregnant, with his child. He never came forward, never tried to help, never did anything for her and their baby apart from walking away from their lives. 

She wasn't going to jump into bed with him anytime soon no matter what, she assured herself. Once she had been a fool in love but not anymore. She tried to convince herself that she now hated Aryan and that she simply needed to get away from him to remember that.

She didn't know if he could actually read her thoughts or simply sense her inner turmoil but before she could rise she felt his other hand on her shoulder, pressing her back into her seat. 

"Wait."

His voice was forceful enough to make her succumb to the pressure of his hands. She felt her cheeks burn and could feel the tears building in her eyes. 

"Damn it! Damn him," she was saying to herself. "I'm a 28-year-old woman but he's making me feel like a shaky little schoolgirl. Why I can't I just yell at him for the way he's treated me and walk away?" 

It was then that the fog rose from her mind and she remembered things more clearly. She had! Three years ago she was the one who had said all those hateful things and walked away. Aryan hadn't abandoned her so much as she had pushed him away.

"But he never tried to change my mind," she stubbornly recalled. He never begged her to give him another chance. He never tried to get involved with their baby; he never offered help. 

Roma had loved Aryan's respect of her independent nature; he never tried to play the macho male around her. He wasn't submissive but he would without hesitation or embarrassment admit that she wore the pants in their relationship and that he was happy that she did. But when they parted ways she secretly wished that for once he would ignore her wishes and come back anyway.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. 

Roma didn't know what it was he was apologizing for because he didn't explain, he didn't say anything else. He just sat there, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her knees. He was looking down at the table with a puppy dog look on his face. She couldn't tell what was going on in his head. 

"Ok," she mewed softly. 

Aryan looked up at her and the sight of her smile somehow seemed to chase away the dark thoughts that had clouded his face a few minutes ago. He moved the hand that was resting on her shoulder. Roma felt his fingers artfully trail across her neck and down to her collarbone to pick a strand of hair that had strayed away from the bun. She held her breath while he did that. Aryan noticed and let out a chuckle; she blushed. 

The waitress returned to the table to check if they needed anything else. If she noticed anything odd she didn't let on. Aryan had both his hands planted on Roma's knees. As the waitress cleared the table he firmly but gently parted her knees. 

Roma bolted upright in her seat but didn't say anything. She held her breath as she felt Aryan's fingers snaking up the smooth skin of her inner thigh. The waitress turned to leave but he stopped her. 

"Wait," he told the waitress, "I've suddenly got the urge to eat something sweet and sticky. What would you recommend?" 

Roma was certain that Aryan had looked directly at her when he said 'sweet and sticky'. As the waitress rambled on about the desserts on their menu she didn't dare look up at either of them; Roma was completely focused on dulling herself to the exquisite sensation of his fingernail grazing along the taut skin of her inner thigh.

He knew sex in public turned her on. During their time together they had tried it a few times but they were always cautious and never in front of people. She thought about yelling at him and asking him what the hell he was trying to do but the waitress hadn't left the table.

"Maybe she's taken in with his disarmingly boyish smile," she thought. "Is she flirting with him, even while I'm here?" 




Reconciliation



She wasn't really listening to the conversation between Aryan and the waitress and so couldn't be completely certain. As much as she tried she failed to focus her attention on anything other than the upward journey of his fingers along her thigh. She grabbed the sides of the chair with both hands to help her focus. 

His fingers halted against the fabric of her panty and lingered there. Roma felt Aryan must've realized that they were soaking wet from her arousal. She felt even more ashamed and refused to look up. 

"... so wet." She heard him say. She looked up at him furious and embarrassed and realized that he was still discussing the dessert options with the waitress. But then she caught the smug look on his face as he gave her a sideways glance. She felt his fingers push forth, pressing the wet panty against her sex. Her breathing was faster and more ragged now. She slouched forward in her seat, her head hung almost touching the table. She heard the waitress ask if she was okay. 

"Why don't you put your head down," Aryan suggested, "while I finish my desert?" 

She quietly obeyed. She was having a hard time maintaining control anyway.

The waitress said she'd be back with the dessert and some ice chips for her. Roma grabbed the opportunity to address him. 

"Stop," she moaned even though she had meant for it to sound as an order. 

He gave her a bemused smile even as his eyes shone with determination like he had no intention of listening to her silly protests. 

She found her mouth and throat getting drier by the minute. She opened her mouth and licked her lips. Just then the waitress returned with the ice chips for her. She smiled and thanked the waitress before slipping one into her mouth. 

Aryan's hand moved deftly across the table and behind her. She wasn't sure if she had imagined the move; it had happened so quickly. But, then she felt something that confirmed what she had seen. He was pushing one of the ice chips down along her spine.

"Nooooo," she groaned. 

He laughed at her helpless groan. Even through her dress she felt the chill of the ice chip melting down her spine. She squirmed and in the process rubbed against his finger, which was still nestled against her panty while he simply sat there grinning, a smug look plastered on his face. She wanted to yell at him to stop, get up and bolt from there but she didn't. She was like a deer caught in the headlights. 

He had a predatory gleam in his eyes as he pulled his chair closer to her. The place was pretty crowded now and he was big enough to block the view of their little table. Roma felt his hot breath on her neck while he shamelessly stared down the front of her dress at her nipples straining against the fabric of her dress. She felt ashamed that he could see her arousal. 

"Mmmmmm..." he licked his lips while staring at her aroused nipples, "... someone's glad to see me."

Her shame and embarrassment grew but she held on to the sides of the chair, refusing to look up, refusing to respond anymore than her treacherous body was already responding to him. She couldn't give him that satisfaction!

The waitress arrived at the table at this point. She served the desert and walked away. 

"My hands are occupied. Feed me." Roma was amazed at the nerve he was showing saying and doing the things he was. But before she could object she felt an ice chip rolling up her thigh. She gulped and complied. 

She took the fork, piled it with some of the gooey chocolate brownie and pushed it past his lips into his mouth. She was rough but if she hurt him he definitely did not show it.

"Yummy." He said with his eyes glued to her body; she knew he wasn't talking about the brownie. 

"Try some," he instructed her. 

His hand was stroking her spine, sending shivers along its path. Again, she complied. 

Roma daintily picked up a small piece and had started to move the fork towards her mouth when she felt his finger slide inside her panty. He was trespassing now and she shuddered causing the brownie to spill onto her. 

Experience had prepared her for what came next. So she braced herself and thanked God that the brownie had only landed on the exposed part of her chest and not rolled all the way in because Aryan's tongue had expertly licked it off of her like old times.

"Ohhh," she couldn't hold back the moan; his tongue was moist but it still burned her skin. Roma was panting but it was too crowded for anyone to notice. 

Her head was swimming as she felt his index finger rested against her moist sex, "I want a taste." She proceeded to pile the fork once more but was shocked to see him pull out his finger and lustfully lick it instead. He was referring to her, she dizzily realized. 

Roma spotted an opportunity. If she was to escape his assault she had to leave now while his finger wasn't busy exploring her crevice. She started to get up.

"What's your rush...," Aryan asked looking smug, "... hot date?" 

Roma knew she needed to break the spell he had bound her with and so she hastily answered, "Yes, as a matter of fact. So I need to get home now." 

That did it, the spell was broken, and with his head hung Aryan slumped into his chair as he settled the bill and handed over the custody papers she'd come for.

"Can I at least drop you home?" He asked so gently that Roma couldn't help but nod her assent. 

They soon arrived at the apartment where Roma lived with their daughter, who was at her grandmother's house. The silence hung heavily between them during the drive home. Aryan seemed absent again; lost in his thoughts. She felt more comfortable alone around him when he was like this. So she didn't protest as he followed her up to her apartment.

Finally, they reached the door and Roma turned to face him and smiled. She held her hand out to shake his as she began to say goodbye. However, he continued to look lost in his daze and did not make eye contact with her. So she turned around and proceeded to unlock the door. 

Stepping into the apartment Roma heard the sound of the elevator door opening. She turned around expecting to see Aryan enter the elevator. Instead there he stood his head hung mere centimetres from her face. She sighed leaning into him, and her nipples grazed his chest. This simple contact managed to unleash something primeval in both of them. 

Aryan grabbed Roma and pushed her clear of the doorway. She held on to him by the collar of his shirt as his foot slammed the door shut. His hands urgently pulled her dress up over her shoulders, over her head to toss it aside; his hard hands grazing her soft curves along the way. 

Roma struggled to open the buttons of Aryan's shirt as she was trying her best not to rip it open. His hands had already loosened her hair. She bent to open the straps of her shoes when she heard him curse. 

"Damn woman, what the fuck!" 

His face was a mask of pure lust as he watched her delicious curves encased in just a very lacy pair of black bra and panties. Aryan looked like an excited kid in a toyshop who couldn't figure out which toy he wanted to play with first. Roma shuddered with delight knowing that she was soon going to be used like his plaything.

She was so hot for him and he hadn't even kissed her yet! She could see the bulge in his trousers and knew what awaited her. She drooled at the thought of his thick cock jammed inside her once more. She hungrily reached for his zipper but he stopped her.

She noticed that something had changed about him. His expression had become oddly calm... She wondered if Aryan had changed his mind. She wondered if he no longer found her attractive. The insecurities made her head clear a little bit. 

"Slow down. It's been so long since we've..." his voice cracked. 

Roma realized that he was trying to hold back, trying to control himself. But she couldn't understand why. Perhaps he sensed her confusion. 

"Let's take our time to really savour this, enjoy this." He explained.

When she still looked perturbed he pulled her into his arms and kissed her reassuringly. His kisses started out gently, tender and moist. She moaned in his arms and opened her mouth. Soon the urgency of his kisses increased as if he was losing control. 

She pulled away from him and smiled; she was affecting him. He reached out to her and pulled her onto him as he collapsed on the couch. Her head resting against his chest she could hear his heart racing. When she straddled him she felt his cock twitch even through his jeans. 

"Mmmmmm," she moaned against him. 

"Stop moaning like that..." he said as calmly as he could, "...or I'm going to just bend you over the couch and fuck you."

Roma smiled naughtily at Aryan, "So, who's stopping you?" 

He shook his head, "You've got me so hot for you now that I wouldn't last 2 minutes. So, I want to make you cum first." 

Even as he groaned she turned to rub her ass against his hard dick. He grabbed her ass with both hands and tugged at her panty. In his eagerness he ended up ripping it apart. She laughed to see him so out of sorts but not for too long as Aryan pulled her ass on his face. She felt his teeth nibbling away at the fleshy contours of her ass. She squirmed against his face. His fingers slid forward, past her mound, across her stomach and tugged at her nipple. She felt his hands on her back unhooking her bra even as his teeth continued teasing the fleshy globes of her ass. 

Aryan flipped her over. "I've been longing to suck them all afternoon," he held her breasts in each hand as he spoke, his eyes shut in concentration as if he were assessing their weight. 

"If we'd stayed at the coffee shop any longer I would've ended up fondling you in public." He leaned into her chest and squeezed her ample tits against his cheeks, the stubble of which grazed her flesh causing goose bumps. 

"Mmmmmm" he moaned into them and like a tuning fork she felt her body resonate with pleasure.

Slowly and teasingly Aryan's tongue circled her areola. It was Roma who now struggled for control as she longed to thrust her breast into his eager mouth. He licked the underside of her breast and nipped at the flesh with his teeth. She pushed her crotch against him as she moaned. His teeth gently tugged on her teat. He knew what she wanted, what she needed but he didn't give in to her, he continued to tease her by rubbing the palms of his hands on the globes of her ass. 

She started moving against him as if she were humping his thigh. He grabbed her and held her still. Aryan opened his mouth but instead of her breast he went to lick and suck on her neck instead. He knew he was torturing her with his teasing but he also knew how sensitive her breasts were and just how easily he could make her cum if she were teased enough. 

His right hand left her ass check and moved to her nipple instead tugging on the turgid piece of flesh, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Her panting increased, her throat felt dry and ragged and her stomach turned. He was pulling harder now almost painfully and then she felt his warm mouth tenderly sucking on her right nipple even as his fingers tugged on the left one. 

Roma enjoyed this exquisite mix of pain and pleasure; while his fingers assaulted, his mouth gave relief. Aryan was now trying in vain to take her whole breast into his greedy mouth while groaning happily over the abundance. His hands kneaded her ass while he sucked one and then the other breast and in a blinding flash she had climaxed, after over 3 years of celibacy, finally Roma climaxed. 

She slumped against him feeling ragged after her long awaited orgasm but yearning for more. And she could tell that he wanted to give her more. He sensed her need and reluctantly let go of her breast. She began to open his zipper. This time she was not stopped. Slowly she let out his throbbing cock that looked angry from being trapped for so long. She gasped, having forgotten how wonderfully large the head was. 

"Give it some attention," he growled. 

Roma didn't need to be told twice. First she let her drool drip on to Aryan's member and then she started by gently licking the tip. She smiled when she heard him groan as she grazed her teeth lightly on his shaft. Soon she had engorged her mouth with his cock but he pulled her away. 

"You'll make me cum.," he uttered breathlessly; "I have something else in mind." 

Aryan stood up and pushed his jeans and underwear all the way down with one swift gesture. He stepped out of the pool of his clothes and pulled her into his arms only to hungrily suck on her lips. 

He had missed her. He had regretted their time apart. But he had not known how to make amends for whatever had happened between them 3 years ago. Roma was so proud she had refused to meet Aryan and refused to ask him to come back. He felt like a coward for not just showing up at her door and begging her to take him back despite his immaturity and help him be the man she needed him to be. He always knew that if he ever got just one chance with her he'd make amends; he'd show her what he couldn't say. And now by some miracle she'd given him that chance and he was going to show her that they both needed each other.

"How?" he growled.

She looked up at Aryan, confused. 

"How would you like me to take you?" 

Roma could tell he was ready to burst but he had still paused to think about her pleasure. She looked at him from beneath her eyelashes; her body trembling with anticipation. 

"Just fuck me, fuck me hard till I pass..." 

He didn't give her a chance to complete what she was saying. He grabbed her and pushed her on all fours. He knew exactly what she liked and knew what she needed. 

He slid his hands down her back and caught her ass while he kneeled between her legs. With one hand he positioned his member against her entrance and used his free hand to check if she was still wet enough to take him. 

Aryan's fingers were welcomed by Roma's wet and dripping pussy. He bent down and started to lick away her sweet juices. She moaned and then shrieked as with one swift push he had entered her. His hands held her ass pressed against his hip. His head lay on her back. He didn't move, allowing her to get reacquainted with his girth. She moaned and he felt her muscles clench his manhood. 

He withdrew a little and then slammed back in. 

"Still- so- fucking- tight." He grunted.

Aryan couldn't think straight anymore; her muscles clenching his dick were sending him spiralling towards his own orgasm. He started grunting and with all the control he could muster he started to piston in and out, slow and long, making her feel the entire length of his shaft. 

He reached forward and grabbed her tit with one hand and squeezed her ass with the other. When he felt her inner muscles start to spasm he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her back against the length of his body and started fucking her for dear life. 

Roma felt him reach for her hair. She felt her body pressed against him as he was fucking her with every ounce of his energy. She felt his warm breath on her neck when he leaned forward to nibble her ear. She let go. 

Her climax racked her body and squeezed the life out of him as he felt her inner muscles milk his cock. She collapsed into his arms as he came but he didn't stop. Aryan continued to fuck her. He continued grunting in and out of her even as he was giving her his very last drop and this brought on her second orgasm. It wasn't as strong as before but felt sweeter somehow. Yet he didn't stop. 

Aryan continued sluicing in and out of Roma even though it was beginning to hurt him a little now he continued as if he was trying to meld her to him. He continued his rhythm unchanging, a promise of sorts that he would be there for as long as she needed him, he was here and here is where he would remain, beside her, inside her.

THE END



Reconciliation



The scenic route, that the Pacific Coast Highway sports, is lost on Ann as she stares out the window. Her thoughts take her back to the past, when Dianne and her were friends --- close friends. They had confided in each other for years and even though Ann was 15 years older than Dianne, Dianne never once made her feel matronly. In fact she always made her feel young, carefree, and beautiful. That had all changed when Dianne had confessed her desire to explore the sexual tension both women experienced when around the other. Dianne had never been with a woman, and though Ann had and had similar feelings for Dianne, she chose instead to turn away. She confessed in cryptic words that the desire and love she had for her friend would quickly become an obsession, an obsession that would not bode well for either woman's marriage. 

The thought of John, Ann's husband of 20 years, causes her to shift uncomfortably in her seat, bringing her back to the present. She turns her head, looking over at him. He seems focused on the road, maneuvering the Lexus around the crooks and crevices of the highway, but she knows his focus is most likely on what woman will share his bed. They have an unspoken arrangement -- a don't ask don't tell policy. Ann smiles when he turns to catch her gaze and then frowns when he speaks a question. 

"Still nervous?"

Ann tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, shrugging her shoulders. "Not really," she lies. "Dianne and I have put the past behind us and tonight --- it may be awkward at first, but eventually it'll be fine." 

"Well, if you two... ."

"It's not going to happen," Ann hisses under her breath. "So don't bring it up again." 

John's jaw tightens at the dismissing tone that Ann used; a sliver of guilt wells up inside her. She pushes it down, refusing to apologize for the emotions that slipped free. John wants her to explore the feelings she has for Dianne; he told her to years ago, giving her permission to seduce the young woman, even going so far as to seek James', Dianne's husband's opinion. 

It hadn't surprised her when she had heard James had already given Dianne permission to have a dalliance with her then-best-friend. What bothered Ann was the eagerness in which John had pursued the entanglement. He had never voiced the desire to join or watch, leading Ann to believe it was in order to calm his guilt. He had had numerous affairs, affairs she had chosen to ignore in order to keep herself and her husband in the lifestyle they'd become accustomed to. 

High society preyed on weak marriages, names were smudged through the tabloid pages like warm ink and though both of them would eventually recover from a messy divorce, neither of them wanted one. They had a mutual understanding, and it had gotten them to where they were today. John was a very successful businessman who wheeled and dealed with major players in the entertainment industry and she was a very well-kept happy socialite, as was Dianne. 

Reflections of the past seemed to allow Dianne's visage to float back into Ann's mind. She saw the young woman, eyes full of mirth and adventure, standing several feet away from her. Her lean figure, high placed breasts, and long legs simply spoke of sexual promise, yet it was so much more than physical desire that Ann had for Dianne. It was the need to hold, treasure, and love. She knew her friend craved someone who would not hold back their emotions, or keep their passion chained, but at the same time be someone who nurtured her out of her shell. Ann could do all of that and so much more for Dianne and it was because of those feelings that she'd managed to avoid the other woman for the past two years. Tonight though, through a series of emails and phone calls she and Dianne had repaired the wounds created and had agreed that tonight would be the official beginning of their renewed non-sexual friendship. To say she was disappointed would have been an understatement, but it was, in Ann's opinion for the best. 

John slows the car, causing apprehension and indecision to creep up into Ann's chest. She looks around, finally taking note of their surroundings. The security gate of Marty's home is open and holiday lights glow against the thick canopy of trees that line their friend's driveway. When they reach the top of the cliff, John pulls his car up to the front steps and slid the gear into park. A valet comes forth, opening her door, while another man slips over to take the keys from John. She steps out, the valet aiding her, before handing her hand over to John.

Ann's dress shimmers as she walks. The Christmas lighting that Marty's groundskeeper has placed around the beach house reflects off the various sequins and rhinestones that were embroidered into her gown. They are greeted by another of Marty's staff, relinquishing their coats and immediately offered flutes of champagne. Ann waves hers off, choosing instead to keep her arm looped around John's. Together they walk, arms linked through the two-story, glass enclosed entry. The sound of holiday music plays throughout the house, giving a sense of Christmas cheer to all those present. 

When they cross the threshold of the living room, familiar faces surround them. With tension mounting, Ann scans the room, looking for Dianne. Her search comes up empty. With shoulders slumped she swallows the lump of disappointment and tries to tell herself that her friend's absence is for the best.

John disentangles himself and smiles back at her as he makes his way toward Marty, their host and mutual friend. Ann waves when Marty nods in her direction, while extending a hand toward her husband. The last time she'd seen Marty had been in July, during a Fourth of July bash that he'd thrown at his condo in the city. He still looks like the same jubilant fellow and life of the party. His smile, wide and welcoming lights up the room. She immediately feels more at ease in his presence, refusing to let Dianne's lack of attendance squelch her evening. 

A soft touch on her elbow causes her to turn. Karen, Marty's wife stands next to her. Once she's been acknowledged by Ann she drops the cool touch and steps back. Ann can't help but feel the other woman's gaze drift slowly down and then back up her body. It is not attraction that forces Karen's eyes to slide over the Armani that Ann has chosen for the occasion, it was the need to judge and deem her guest worthy or not. When Karen's lip rise in a slight smile, Ann knows she's passed inspection. "It's nice to see you again," Karen tells her, "it's been far too long." 

Ann weakly agrees, inwardly she thinks that it has not been long enough. She listens to Karen talk about her newest piece of artwork that she's acquired at auction and waits for the hostess of the night to lose interest in the newest arrival. It doesn't take long and when Karen disappears to mingle with another of California's upper-crust Ann goes in search of a beverage that won't deprive her of her senses. 

As she sips on a glass of ginger ale, Ann slips back into the crowd of holiday revelers. The sound of Ian, laughing and telling jokes that are better left in a locker room, make her shake her head in amusement. He is, as always, full of mirth and humor. In fact, he could give Marty a run for his money in the most likeable fellow in the room department.

A group of both single and married men hover around the plush leather couch where Cat sits. She is again the center of attention, whether by choice or not. Her exotic looks and delightful charm make her a magnet to both sexes. Her intelligence only adds to her appeal, and if Ann were in the mood to listen to the woman's endless chatter she would have happily joined the group of infatuated men. 

"Hello beautiful." 

Ann turns toward the well-known and familiar, comforting voice of James, Dianne's husband. Instantly her pulse races and her chest tightens. "James," she says in a forced tone of normalcy, "I didn't see you come in." 

James chuckles softly. "We were here earlier than most. Marty and I had some business to discuss. Dianne said you were coming. It's really great to see you," he admits, before pulling her against his chest and giving her a friendly hug. He kisses the top of her head and lets her go. 

"It's nice to see you too. It's been too long." 

"Two years too long," James politely chastises. 

Ann nods her head in agreement, before scanning the crowd for James's wife and her long-lost best friend. 

"She's around here somewhere," James whispers against her ear. 

"I'm sure we'll trip into each other eventually." 

James winks, gives her a soft pat on the butt, then leaves her side in search of some other form of entertainment, namely something that will make him richer. Ann takes a deep breath and heads toward the balcony, that overlooks the Pacific. Logs have been lit within the shelter of the white brick fireplace and several party goers casually lurk around it. The chill of the night kisses her flushed skin and she thanks God for it. Her hands come up to touch her hot cheeks, as dawning that Dianne is somewhere within the walls of Marty's home make her weak-in-the-knees.

Ann hears a soft grumbling and notices the tension in her belly. She blushes, hoping no one else heard the unwelcoming sound of hunger; leaving the beauty of the December night to those who have a greater appreciation for it, she walks back through the living room. It's easy to see that some of the party guests have disappeared; she finds herself scanning for Dianne. 

When she finally reaches the dining room, where tables are laden with succulent meats, fruits, and various treats that tempt the palate, she hears Dianne. The other woman's laughter is intoxicating and with it emotions that Ann swore were hidden erupt to the surface. She stops and stares at Dianne's back, urging her to turn around and notice her. 

Dianne seems to feel the intensity of Ann's stare and turns to glance back. Their eyes lock and for a moment Ann feels as if their past has truly been left behind them. Dianne lifts a brow, then turns away, almost shunning Ann. For a moment Ann is stunned. Had they not talked about reconciliation? Had Dianne misled her? Why was she so openly hostile? Ann turns to walk away, wanting to clear her mind from the turmoil she is feeling. 

She takes several steps before squaring her shoulders and choosing to face down her so-called friend. Ann turns back, catching Dianne's figure walking away from the group she was conversing with, choosing instead to disappear down a long hall. Ann walks past the mingling guests that were dining on caviar and cheese, smiling only when her name is called out in passing. Following Dianne, she makes her way down the hall, taking note that the young woman is practically fuming as she stomps off in a childish huff. Anger continues to boil up within Ann as Dianne opens the door to the master bedroom and steps inside, slamming it closed behind her. 

Ann stops at the door and takes a deep breath. Her hand hovers as she calms her nerves. Mentally she prepares herself to confront her friend, and ask her why the online communications had promised friendship and her real-life encounter shows anything but. Her lower lip trembles as she opens the door and steps inside. 

The bedroom is dark, save but a sliver of light that comes from beneath the bathroom door. She hears Dianne walking around the small room, picturing her with her arms crossed under her breasts and her anger rising to a full-blown tantrum. Traits that are not normally seen gracing the young woman's features. Ann turns and locks the door, determined that once and for all the two of them will hear each other out. She refuses to be childish and demands that Dianne behave accordingly. 

Light from the bathroom slowly overtakes the darkness, casting a glow across the room. Dianne steps out and stops. Her gaze locks with Ann's and for a moment neither woman breathes. The sound of Barry Manilow singing A Gift of Love quietly whispers through the bedroom speakers, the soft melodious tune is lost in the heated glares that are thrown by each woman. 

Ann stands there staring at Dianne, wanting to slap her for her indifference as well as kiss her with the passion she's longed denied. "I thought we had placed all of this behind us," she finally says, breaking the silence. 

Dianne takes a deep breath, shrugs her shoulders and answers. "I thought so too, but then I thought how can we? We never really talked about it? So what can we put behind us -- when we haven't even placed it in front of us?" 

"Why did you even have to tell me? What good did it do?" she asked. 

"I told you because I thought it would do good," Dianne admitted. "Usually when you tell someone you desire them and want them, that you not only admire and respect them, but that you love them too --- well usually it doesn't blow up in your face! But I guess that doesn't work in your world!" 

Ann's eyes narrowed. "We were friends and you wanted us to be lovers." 

"So." 

"So? What are you twelve? You know how important my marriage is to me," Ann hissed. 

"Whatever. You know damn well that John lives his own life when it comes to sex and you have always had his permission to take a lover." 

Ann shook her head. "You don't understand." 

"Then make me," Dianne whispers. 

Ann looks at the other woman. "If I do this --- if we do this --- there is no going back. I'll want more. I'll want you every night, every day, every hour and... ." 

"You're such a hypocrite. Always telling me and other women out there to go get what we want and to embrace life and live in the moment and yet, here you are denying what you want most in life --- me." 

A lump forms in Ann's throat. "You don't know what I want," she mutters under her breath. 

"To hell I don't. You want to drop the facade of the happily, loving and caring wife and you want someone to feed the real woman you are. You're waiting for the chance to have someone to share your life with -- someone that gets you -- someone that understands that not only are you smart, witty, and beautiful, but your strong, demanding, and sexually hungry for control over yourself and others. John doesn't do that for you -- he pulls all the strings and yet, he's given you permission. Why don't you fuckin' take it?" Dianne shouts. 

"Lower your voice," Ann hisses, mindful of Marty's guest. 

"Fuck you," Dianne answers back before crossing the room and reaching the door. She pulls on it, then looks shockingly back at Ann. "You locked it?" 

"I wasn't letting you walk away this time." 

Dianne rolls her eyes. "This was a joke; you're not ready for this friendship and neither am I. You're always telling folks to act their age and yet, you're the one behaving like some school girl virgin." 

Ann watches Dianne's hand move to unlock and open the door. She slams her hand on the wooden surface, slamming it back in and shoves the young woman out of her way. The door's lock is firmly back in place. Before Dianne can storm away, Ann's fingers wrap around her slim wrist. With an iron lock grip, she pulls Dianne toward her, pushing her against the door and roughly kisses her lips. 

Their tongues merge together, like waves crashing against the shore. The taste of Ann's ginger ale mingles with the freshness of Dianne's as each woman struggles for control over the other. Eventually Ann wins, pushing Dianne harder against the door. Her tongue forcefully dips in and out of the younger woman's mouth, while her fingers make their way into Dianne's thick locks. They angle their heads, the kiss driving them closer to the edge. 

Tingling sensations shot through Ann, desire grew and the pulsating beat of her heart was easily felt between her legs. "Is this what you want, little girl?" Ann hisses against Dianne's lips. "Do you want to feel how badly I've wanted this? How much I've held back?" 

She heard the grunted "yes" fall from Dianne's lips seconds before she kisses her again. One hand moves from Dianne's hair, down her neck and squeezes gently. "I've wanted you for a long time Dianne," she whispers, "I've wanted to fuck you, to control you, command you, call you names, and make you beg for mercy. Are you ready for all of it, are you ready to be my cunt, my slut, my whore?" 

"Yes --- oh fuck yes." 

Ann wastes no time, finally giving in to the desire that she'd kept bottled up for years. As she squeezes on Dianne's neck, she pulls the side-zipper of the girl's dress down, causing the Versace gown to drape open. Dianne's nipples harden further at the loss of heat the dress provided. Ann takes a moment to gaze at the succulent tips before kissing her again. The kiss is still full of fiery heat and passion, but comes across softer. 

As she teases Dianne, coaxing her to follow her lead, her hand drops from her neck and down to pull at the other side of the dress. It soon falls from the woman's body, pooling at her feet. Ann leaves the welcoming taste of Dianne's mouth, choosing to kiss and nip at her throat.

"Harder," Dianne begs. 

Smirking against her skin, Ann opens her mouth and bites down on the creamy flesh that smells of vanilla. She sucks on the flesh, bruising it and marking her as her property. "You're mine," she hisses, before cupping both of Dianne's tits and lifting them up. Ann lowers her mouth, drawing in first her right nipple, while stroking and teasing the left. She rolls the hard nub around in her mouth, coating it with long licks of her tongue. Dianne groans in ecstasy; the sound vibrates through her chest, making Ann's sex ache in anticipation. She moves over to the other nipple, pulls it between her teeth and bites down, causing Dianne to cry out in pleasure. "So you like it rough," Ann says, stating the obvious in a husky tone. 

She stands up and pulls Dianne's hair, yanking her head back, leaving her neck exposed. Ann sucks and bites the tender flesh, feeling the woman growing more weak from the passion she is stirring. She pulls away, stepping back to look over the dishevelment of her best friend. "You're so fuckin' wet; your cunt is dripping. Your panties are soaked." 

Dianne licks her lips, touches her soaked thong and feels a wave of heat wash over her. She rubs the silk fabric against her mound and shivers at the sensations that danced up her spine.

"Stop it!" Ann commands. 

Instantly the younger woman stops; her hands drop to her side and her gaze holds Ann's. 

"Undress me," Ann tells her. 

She looks at Dianne's eyes, seeing a mixture of fear and wonder behind the beautiful orbs. Love swells within her heart as the girl steps away from her dress; trembling hands reach out and slowly glide up and down Ann's arm. Dianne walks around her, fingertips trailing over her flesh. Goosebumps appear, coating Ann's body, sending a shiver across her warming flesh. Her nipples swell and her breasts feel heavy. She wonders if Dianne understands the power she too holds. It is something they will have to explore. 

The realty of the situation settles on Ann's heart --- this one time will never be enough. With dawning comes freedom. She turns her face toward Dianne and kisses her again, before pulling away and resuming the role her friend needs -- aggressor. 

The air caresses her skin as Dianne slips the ipper of her dress down, exposing her flesh. She feels the woman lean in and waits for the telling signs of soft lips caressing her. Dianne does not disappoint. Her mouth moves down Ann's spine; a soft lick follows a kiss; a kiss follows a lick. Ann moans in appreciation and moves to aid her friend when Dianne slides to the floor, pushing the dress down her hips, and past her legs. She steps free of the gown, muttering a low curse when Dianne's hands reach up to grab her ass and kneed the flesh beneath her palms. 




Reconciliation



I was told by someone who knows that I should mention that the characters in this story were originally in 'Enabling' and "Hooking Jörmungandr". While I tried to make this story complete on it's own, there are details there which may flesh things out a bit more. Also, keen readers will notice there maybe be some inconsistencies between the three. Well...they were never meant to be a serial, so I hope you accept artistic license (or mere hackery) as sufficient excuse

If you don't believe people can change, you probably won't like this story.

If you are looking for loads of hot sex, you probably won't like this story.

If you are looking for a lot of humor, sorry, this is one of the dark ones.

If you are big on BTB, you may want to give this one a pass.

If you believe a wronged husband can't act like an asshole, are you catching the trend?

And if you haven't liked any of my stories so far, you probably won't like this one either. (God...nothing like insulting the readers BEFORE they start the story. There is a reason I am not in marketing...)

So...are both of my potential readers still here? Good!



Reconciliation

Jim entered the bar diffidently.  He didn't want to be here, but he was caught in a bind of his own making. Principles were a damned thing. They limited your course of action both coming and going. If you could just ignore them, then they weren't principles in the first place. The place was reasonably full, despite the fact it was the midday lull; too early for the after work crowd, but still not early enough for the lunch drinkers. He stopped at the bar before examining the room. Ed had his drink ready before he got there. " 'Lo. What brings you in this early?"

Jim grimaced. "An unpleasant task, I'm afraid. I'm meeting someone."

The barkeep nodded gravely. "Must be the jumpy bastard in booth 8." He tilted his head in that direction. Sandy hair, broad shoulders. Yup. That was his asshole.  With a sigh, he drained his glass. "Ed, put a shot of vodka in this one." The barkeep raised his eyebrow. Normally it was a club and lime. "Trust me...I'm going to need it." 

Shrugging wordlessly, he refilled the glass and Jim brought it to the booth.

For the first time in more than a year, Jim sat in the same room as Reg. They used to be friends in high school and afterwards, but things had changed. For one, Reg started to screw anything with a pulse and a wedding ring didn't seem to matter to him and second, Jim's brother David had his wife cheat on him and it almost destroyed his brother. David was still trying to crawl out of his bottle and his kids were doing poorly academically and had behavior problems. Since that time, Jim had made it a point of honor to never be in the same room as his former school chum.

Reg eyed him warily. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I wasn't sure I'd come. What's this all about?" Jim wasn't going to waste a lot of time on this serial adulterer, but Reg had all but begged him on the phone for the meeting. So...ignore a plea for help or hold to his principles to avoid this son of a bitch? It had taken him a couple hours mulling it and talking it over with Sally, but finally he decided to hear him out.

Reg popped a pill in his mouth when he sat down. Had he started doing drugs too? At his look of askance, Reg said shamefacedly. "I was in the hospital. My ribs are still very sore."

"Oh? I hadn't heard."

Reg made a face. "Figures. I called Hank and Phil, my two so called best friends while I was in there. They laughed at me when they heard what happened. They LAUGHED."

Jim sighed. "Okay. Why don't you tell me what happened."

"I was at one of the clubs. Well, there was this real hot blonde there...I mean...she wasn't the prettiest girl there, but she had this weird energy vibe thing. She was dancing with a bunch of guys so I cut in a couple times. So I made a play for her and this dumbass tells me to take a hike. Wait. Excuse me. He told me that he'd punch me in the mouth or he'd let me keep hitting on her. Which seemed pretty fucking dumb to me. He made it sound like he was doing me a favor by just letting him punch me. I mean...he was a real arrogant prick." Jim refrained from the obvious comparison.

"Well, this pissed me off and I decided to get even with him by taking him up on his offer. I mean...if he was so stupid to give me open season on his girl, he had no idea what I could do. So I hit on her some more. You know...rub his nose in it."

"I didn't come here to listen to you brag about how you nailed some guy's wife." Jim said wearily.

"No! This is...it's important to the story. She was sort of stand offish. Not exactly warm. Less fun then she was before when I danced with her the first time. Guarded. She kept trying to brush me off, but she never said no...so that's like a yes, right? So I kissed her on the dance floor, thinking her guy had come in to see it and she just looked at me and then, in this absolutely weird voice asked me if I knew someplace quiet and private. So, you know, I think I'm getting lucky and I take her back to a store room, giving her the full court press."

Jim's face twisted into distaste. It sounded like another of Reg's brags and he really didn't want to waste his time. But there wasn't any of the usual arrogance in his voice. Instead his voice sounded lost. 

"Jim...as soon as that door shut, she pulled out a gun. I swear by everything I hold holy she was going to kill me!"

"What exactly do you find holy? And did she say why?"

"I was sort of focused on the gun! And fuck you! Wait..." his eyes wandered into the past. "She said that I was deliberately trying to hurt her husband and their relationship and she'd kill me before she let that happen. She...her eyes! Jim, her fucking eyes! It was like there was nobody there. I was this tedious little chore she needed to take care of before she left the club." He shuddered at the memory of her expression.

"So, that fucking asshole knew, he just KNEW where she'd be and what she'd be doing, don't ask me how, and he walks in with this CSI kit and starts rolling out plastic tarp and giving her a silencer like it's just another day for them. My whole life meant absolutely nothing! I mean, I thought they were kidding but...They're sitting there like the Addams family trying to figure out where to hide my body."

"You're here. What happened?" Jim's voice had little compassion in it, but there was a twinge of curiosity.

"I think...I think they decided that killing me was more trouble than...than I was worth. She said if I let him beat the shit out of me, they'd call it even." His voice broke. "They made me ASK for it." His eyes took on that lost quality again and his face twitched as it recalled the beating. " I had to...hold my hands behind my back...and he started punching and kicking and..." Reg took a shuddering breath. "Then they told me if I gave them the slightest amount of trouble they'd...well, they'd be back. They took my driver's license and my social security card. They even cut the valve stems off the tires on my Mustang." He said outraged.

"You asshole!" It was all Jim could do to not scream it in his face. Reg was worse, FAR worse than he thought.

"What? I'm the victim here!"

"Victim my ass! You went out of your way to hit on a married chick and when you were told NOT to, you made a play anyway just to try to mess up their marriage. It's just your luck that you picked someone who was able to do something about it. You could be dead. You should be dead. You callously went out of your way to mess up something very important to them and now you want SYMPATHY because you couldn't get away with it?" Jim sat back, wishing he'd ordered a double and feeling he wasted a trip. "What do you want, Reg?"

Reg looked shattered. "I want my friends back. I miss you guys...even you. I was stuck in a hospital for days. I had a punctured lung, two broken ribs, I lost a tooth and I was pissing blood for a couple days. Like I said, I called the guys and they just laughed."

"They're not really happy you slept with Wes' wife. Wes got a divorce and moved you know."

"I know about the divorce."

"What about your...'friends'?"

"The girls?" Reg shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. After the bunch of you threw me under the bus, I called a few of them...but I don't keep a 'line of girls' around. Generally it's more of a serial thing..." He looked even more forlorn. "My current 'friends' made some sympathetic noises. But visiting me in the hospital? Not discreet and they knew it. One or two told me to give them a call when I got better, but..." he left it hanging. 

"We threw you under the bus? After what you...never mind." Jim tried to squelch his sense of outrage.

"Okay. That was a bad way to put it. I meant that you guys left and now...it's like I have no one anymore." Reg sighed deeply. "I had a lot of time thinking of things. What else did I have to do? I sat in my apartment for a week after that. What if they had killed me? I mean, how many suspects would there be? How many people would raise a glass not to me, but to my killers? How many people would be at my funeral?"

"Too many to the first, not many to the later" Jim stated.

"Yeah." Reg's voice was empty, more a sigh of agreement than a word.

Jim's glass was also empty. He pushed himself away from the booth and headed to the bar. "Give me a double, Ed."

"That bad?" Ed waited.

"Reg is...he tries to sleep with everything that moves and if it doesn't move, he nudges it with his foot first. And that includes married women. ESPECIALLY married women. He's right. The pretty ones get married early and Reg has a connoisseur's eye. Suddenly he's had this 'epiphany' and wants to make things right. Or so he says."

"And you don't believe him?"

"Not particularly."

"Why not?"

"Because his reason for wanting forgiveness is because it's making his life uncomfortable and he feels lonely."

"And you don't think he should have a selfish motive for being forgiven?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what's in it for him? What's in it for anyone to seek forgiveness?" Jim was silent, thinking.  "He seems to be in a lot of pain."

"So what are you suggesting, that I just buy into it?" Jim asked.

Ed polished a glass, peering closely at it through the light. "I dunno. What do your personal religious and ethical beliefs say to do when someone asks for forgiveness?"

Jim slammed his glass down. It was a miracle that it stayed intact. "DAMN IT!" He glared hard at the bartender, who seemed very intent on scraping some hard bit off the outside of the glass. Through gritted teeth, Jim said "You...you...Did I mention that Sally says your mojitos are mundane and dull?"

Ed looked at him aggrieved. "That's low, Jim. And considering she's the only one who orders them, I'll take that for what it's worth."

"Does he just think that saying 'sorry' is going to make up for all the crap he's done to people?"

"He might think that. He probably has no idea how hard a road he has to go down. He can't make it all up at once. And it's unfair to expect that. But you CAN make him realize what he did. IF you're interested." Ed finished offhandedly.

"Damn you Ed." Jim started to get worked up again.

Ed grinned. "Relax. If it's any comfort, look at what Henry II had to do to get forgiveness for killing Thomas Becket. Sack cloth and ashes. Walking barefooted to Canturbury. Scourged by monks. Penance is NOT for the faint of heart. It's easier to stay bad."

"Who?"

"Look it up."

Jim took his drink and headed back to the booth. He sighed and thought as Reg wordlessly watched him.  "So...you're serious about changing your life?"

Reg nodded. "Sure. I'm really sorry and I'd do anything to make it up."

"You know, people say that very easily. 'I'll do anything.' Well, you get to prove it. We need to get going."

"Where?" Reg was a bit troubled by the look of foreboding that Jim wore. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to my house for dinner." He said ominously.

+

"Honey, I think one of our neighbors is cheating on her husband. There's this garish pimp-mobile of a Mustang parked in front of our..." Sally began as she entered the house from work carrying a grocery bag. She stopped when she saw them, a smile s-l-o-w-l-y ratcheting on her face. "Well! Reginald Perry. Reginald Perry in MY house. Isn't that...special." Her smile never faltered but her eyes tightened slightly when they looked at Jim. "And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Reg and Jim both inwardly cringed.

Jim quickly slid into the conversation. "I...um...I invited him for dinner."

"DINNER! Isn't today just FULL of surprises. Luckily I just got back from the grocery store otherwise I don't know what I'd make." She glanced at the bottle in Reg's hand. "I see you're making yourself at home. Jim honey? I need for you to follow me to the bathroom to talk about a drip I noticed."

Slowly, Jim trudged off with his wife pushing on his back. Reg sat there extremely uncomfortably. He was a dab hand at reading body language. There was a low buzz of conversation from the bathroom deep in the house. Suddenly he heard a muffled exclamation from Sally "He said WHAT?"

A few minutes later, they reappeared, Jim tired and resolute, arms folded across his chest, Sally with a gimlet cast to her eye. Smiles were NOT in evidence. She sat across the kitchen table from Reg and clasped her hands together in front of her face, elbows on the table. "Well, it's an ill wind which blows no good. At least that's one less Christmas card I have to send out this year." She said phlegmatically. 

"Um...you never sent me a Christmas card." Reg said.

"I wasn't talking about you." She looked at her husband. "Did you tell Ed about his mojitos?" He nodded. "Next time we're at his place, remind me to have a word with him about moral blackmail."

"I'm already on it." Jim agreed.

Reg started to get up. "Look...I get it. It was a bad idea. Sorry to have wasted your time and 'invaded' your precious home." He tried to project a sarcastic attitude but it didn't quite reach his face.

"Sit!" Sally barked. Reg sat a bit too fast for his liking. There was this tone in her voice of wooden spoons and folded belts that struck him right in his childhood. "Why did you try to walk out right now?" she asked, her tone curious instead of judgmental 

"Because you're giving me attitude. Because you don't want to help me. Because I don't need to fuck up Jim's life too."

Sally slowly nodded. "One out of three. It's a start. A very small start, but a start. Do I want to help you? No. Not particularly. But we don't have much choice. Part of having principles is that sometimes you need to do things you don't want to do. Otherwise they are just vague guidelines. I hope you like lasagna. We'll iron things out while we make dinner."

Reg hated lasagna. "Mmmm." He forced a smile.

+

They decided to start at the source, Reg's apartment.

"So this is the 'den of iniquity'." Sally said simply.

"No...It's the living room of iniquity. Adding a den costs an extra $200 a month." Reg answered.

Sally looked around, obviously curious at what a Lotharios apartment would look like. It looked very nonthreatening. There was a matched oxblood sofa and love seat with a nice Chippendale style coffee table and side tables with drawers. The carpeting was clean. A sniff showed there were no odors in the place, except for a subtle hint of sandalwood. There was an expensive entertainment system with a plasma T.V. She ran her hand over the loveseat. It was wonderfully soft but cool. She would hate to sit on it for very long in a short skirt, much less naked. Ah...there were throws over the back so you could sit in warmth if that was your preference. Some nice art pieces decorated the walls and the lighting was subdued but warm.

"Nice place." Jim said. There was no way he was letting Sally go alone to Reg's house, not that he doubted Sally, but he didn't want to put her in an uncomfortable situation no matter how Reg was behaving. Sally had no problem with that and would have asked if he hadn't offered. Coming here was her idea.

"So do I pass inspection?" Reg asked a bit sarcastically.

"It isn't the externals we wanted to see. This is the facade you show your 'dates'." Sally wandered to the side table. "This is really well done. This couch must have cost you a fortune and this carpet... I just want to peel off my shoes and run my toes through its pile." Naturally according to their genders, she wandered into the kitchen while Jim took a look at the entertainment system.

Inside the entertainment cubicle, inside a closed cabinet, a large DVD binder was propped on its end, hiding what was behind in the cubicle. Behind that was an X-Box and PlayStation 3. "Why do you have the DVD binder hiding your game systems?" Jim asked.

Reg gave him a charming smile. "Come on man. You know how shallow chicks can be about stuff like that. You play a video game and their respect for you just plummets."

"Mmm."

"What does 'mmm' mean?"

"Reggie, exactly how much do you drink in a week?" Sally interrupted from the kitchen. There was a clinking sound as she appeared with three empty bottles. "I found these in the trash." 

He got a pained expression on his face. "It's not what you think. I've been off work a lot and..." he trailed off as she just walked away toward his master bath. After a few minutes she returned and came back to the kitchen table, sitting.

Jim walked up and sat next to Sally at the breakfast table. She instinctively reached out and held his hand, a natural and unaffected gesture.

"Well...let's start with the basics. You're a mess. Your diet is terrible, I saw three different anti-depressants in your bathroom, you drink too much and nothing you do is going to fix it." Sally said primly.

"Oh...is that all?" Reg quirked an eyebrow.

"Did you want help or not? How well are you sleeping?"

His eyes darted leftward and down and his mouth opened and shut. Finally he looked up at her "Not well. Not well at all. That's what the booze is for."

Very delicately, Sally approached the next topic. "Jim said that you were beaten recently?"

"I...yeah. Did he tell you the details?"

"He tells me everything." She said simply.

"So...how do you 'fix' me?"

She sighed. "If you are going to put 'quotes' around your words, this isn't going to work. I don't like your tone. If you think you have all the answers, find them yourself. We're offering help you asked for. If you turn us down, it's on you."

There was silence in the kitchen. Finally, "What do I have to do?"

"Simple. You need to put yourself into my hands totally." Her smile did not reassure. "Can you trust a woman with that power over your life?" Her eyes probed his. "Or...you can continue your drinking, the nightmares and the sleepless nights."

"How did you know about the nightmares?"

Gravely, Jim said "It shows on your face."

After a long pause, Reg nodded his head curtly. "What was that?" Sally pressed.

"OKAY! Whatever you need. I want...I want my life back!"

She tenderly put her hand to the side of his face. "Do you really? I wouldn't. I'd want something better." 

She suddenly stood briskly. "Well, enough of this. I don't even want to look in the bedroom. The kids are okay for a while, but it's getting late. Tomorrow, I'll have the name of an A.A. group for you. I'll also have the name of a counselor who deals with post traumatic stress disorder. If possible, we'll find someone with a traditional outlook." Jim lead her to the door.

"Wait! You didn't tell me what was wrong with me!" Reg shouted after her.

She turned. "It's an ailment as old as humanity." She shut the door.

+

Jim slid into the car next to his wife. "He hides his video games."




Reconciliation



Sally mulled this. "It's pretty sad that he thinks he has to hide who he is to get what he thinks he wants."

Jim gave his wife a sly smile. "I happen to like video games. Does that mean I can be myself and go get a console?

"As if! Video games are filler in your life when you don't have anything else going on. YOU have a life. Did you want to trade picnics at the park with the kids and late nights with the wife for some pixels?" she asked archly.

"Well...when you put it that way...."

She smiled. "Tell you what. Maybe I'll see if I have a pair of shorts and a halter top and we can play Tomb Raider one night when the kids are away..."

"Do you think I'll find the treasure?"

"I guarantee it." She put her head on his shoulder.

+

"So...how do you like your counselor?" Sally asked as they drove through Columbus in her car.

"Eh...a bit...old fashioned." Reg said carefully. "Where are we going?"

"Some people these days mistake political fashions for real human nature." Sally said. Reg started to recognize the houses of the suburb they were driving through and twitched nervously. This increased as he got closer and closer to...

"You look like you're about to jump out of your skin." Sally noted. He found he was stuck by a mixture of agitation and...yearning? This drove itself home as they turned a final corner into a cul de sac. His eyes twitched back and forth quickly as they pulled over in front of the house. He started to duck lower in his seat.

"Relax," she said "They sold and moved last month. Well, SHE moved. He left her long before that." Sally said with some bitterness. In front of them was a very nice two story home with a sculpted lawn and ample, well maintained flower beds. It was the home of Wes and Beth Moran, two former friends. "It was a short sale. They were underwater in the market. After your little tete a tete with Beth, he had her served almost instantly. If it wasn't for all the work they put into the garden, they'd have been even worse off. Nice little house, don't you think?"

"Who...who moved in?" Reg asked. His eyes still darted around, looking for a familiar Volvo anyway.

She shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe some renters. Or someone who took advantage of their 'circumstances.'"

"Where did she go?" Sally just looked at him for a long time then put the car in gear and pulled around in a circle and started driving past the park and the Graeter's Ice Cream Parlor on Main Street. It was charming in a way that only small Midwestern neighborhoods could be.

"She moved obviously." She waited but Reg was in his own world. "What about Wes?"

"Who cares what rock he slithered under." Reg spat back. She gazed at him out of the corner of her eye as they drove along in silence.

"I'm curious...who pursued who when you slept with Beth?" she finally asked.

"What?" Reg said.

"You heard me. Did you go out of your way to chase her? Or did she chase you?"

Reg considered. He steadfastly held to the principle that he didn't tell anyone a thing about his conquests. No writing, no pictures, no video, deny deny deny! Only if he was caught red-handed would he admit that he even knew the girl. Then he tried to give her as much of a soft landing as he could. First, it seemed like the right thing to do. She had everything to lose and he didn't. Second...well...it saved his ass a few times and set things up for a replay on occasion, though he seldom wanted the drama that was likely. 'This was the only time.' 'She was really drunk.' All the ready excuses he told whomever discovered him so he could give the woman cover. But...in this case, charity and the truth both served the same purpose. "I chased her." He admitted.

Sally started to pound on the dashboard. "Damn you, Reg. Damn you! She has two kids!"

The suburbs got sparser and large swaths of farmland started showing as they drove north. There were more utility towers and railroads and the number of houses went down and they drove past a shoddy trailer park. After a series of turns which seemed to backtrack, they settled on a country road. Three tiny little houses were clustered in the middle of open fields. A train passed by in the distance across the field and Sally pulled up in front of one of the small houses. It had several siding shingles missing from the facade. One of the two windows facing the road had a piece of tape across its cracked pane. A gravel driveway which had seen better days lead to a pile of lumber which the charitable would call a shed or maybe a garage, but any fire marshal worth his salt would call a fire trap. A couple of two yard tall dead trees marred the front yard. A battered Ford Focus was in the drive. Sally pulled over.

"What are we doing here?" Reg quirked an eyebrow at the place. "This is a little 'low rent' for you, isn't it? I wouldn't leave my dog here."

"You don't have a dog." She opened the door and pointed her finger at him. "You stay here." She said in tones which brooked no argument. Going around to the back of her car, she pushed the remote to pop the trunk and pulled out a double handful of Kroger bags filled with groceries. She started to struggle with them toward the front. Reg started to pull at the door handle to go help but she just glared at him.

She kicked at the front door of the house and someone answered the summons. Reg slid down in his seat quickly, hiding and peeking over the console. A blond woman stood there, talking to Sally. They seemed to be in a bit of an argument, with Sally pressing the bags forward and the other woman just shaking her head. Finally Sally, with some effort lifted her arm full of bags and pointed into the house and said a few words.  The other woman dropped her head momentarily and with a leaden gesture, waved Sally inside, taking a handful of the bags as she passed inside.

Fifteen minutes later, the two women appeared at the door, a small girl following. The adults shared a long hug and said their good byes. The woman glanced at the car and Reg ducked further beneath the dash.

"What the FUCK is she doing in a shithole like this?!?" he said to Sally after he took a moment to control himself.

Sally gave him a bland look. "It's what she can afford."

"THIS? Wes was pulling down some good coin! Even if she only got half, she should be doing better than this!"

"Wes isn't around. Wes emptied the accounts. She's filed to the court for him to pay the arrearage for her support, but it's hard to serve someone when you don't have a forwarding address and he's ducking the servers."

"But...but...HERE?"

Finally the anger Sally was keeping tamped burst through. "YES, HERE! This is the only place she can afford in her school district. SHE HAS TWO KIDS! It's the middle of the school year. Their world has exploded quite enough, don't you think, without moving them to Hell and gone in some strange school. Beth's mother lives in a one bedroom postage stamp. Where exactly is she supposed to go? She's doing the best that she can on her little entry level position. She was a HOUSEWIFE! She made a deal with the school district that as long as she's SOMEWHERE in the district, her kids can stay at the same school. It only adds a 30 minute drive back and forth for her in the morning and afternoon, not to mention the added expense of the latchkey program." She didn't need to tack on the 'thanks to you'.

"What happened to her Volvo?" As a car salesman, Reg noted the car change immediately.

"She sold it to help pay for her attorney fees and to come up with the deposits on that place. It's a lease to own."

"Why would she want to own that?"

Sally gazed at him coolly. "You rent an apartment. What about your car?"

"It has a good lease. I need to keep up appearances and get a new car frequently, so it doesn't make sense to buy."

"So you own nothing and are beholden to nothing. The reason she's still here is that this is a very good school district."

"I live the life I want." He said defensively.

"And how is that working out for you?" They were silent for a while as she retraced her route.

"What was the purpose of this little road trip?" Reg asked wearily.

"I wanted you to see the consequences of your actions. You've known Beth since High School. You knew Wes. You knew her kids. She's here because of you."

He squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. "It was consensual." He bit his lip. "How...what do you want me to do?"

"Well, normally I'd say to let your conscience be your guide like Jiminy Cricket, but in your case, I'm not sure if it's up to the task." Reg bit his tongue hard. "How many vacations did you take last year?"

"Three...okay, four if you count that weekend at Vail. I'm a really good salesman." He explained.

"Mmm." She watched the road.

"I suppose I could float her a few bucks." He started to warm to the idea. "Hey...and she lives in a real shithole. Maybe I could get some contractors to fix up the place or something. What do you think?"

"Or something..." she said enigmatically.

+

Beth checked the account again by logging off and logging on again. It was still incorrect. She showed a positive balance of $287 on her electric bill, when she knew that she was behind.

Frowning, she picked up the phone. "Hello, this is Beth Moran. I have a question about my bill. Okay...I'll wait." One transfer later and she got someone else. "Yes...Beth Moran...my address?" She went through the tedious process of proving that, yes, the woman who was calling from the phone AT the address was indeed the person who was at the house associated at the bill. "Yes...I am showing a balance of...yes...but I was um..."she flushed, embarrassed "...a little behind and now it shows that I have a...yes...my last payment was for $40...what? NO! I didn't make a payment...how much? At the home office? Exactly who paid...you don't know? No no...I guess it's alright."

Mentally she started to curse out her remaining friends. She still had a smidgeon of pride. She looked at the chipped and faded linoleum tiles at her feet. Could she really afford pride right now?

"MOM! Jimmy is overflowing the tub!" April called out from the lone bathroom.

"I'm sorry...no that's fine. I got to go...thank you." By the time she was able to clean up the bathroom, the entire incident had skipped her mind, at least for the moment.

+

The dust whipped around in huge clouds under the mower. Probably because there was barely any grass... Reg thought acerbically. He stopped and glanced at Beth's porch where his Warden sat on a injected plastic chair, making lists next to a sweating pitcher of lemonade.

She noted the lack of movement and glanced at the yard. Sally pointed at a patch and looked down again. Sighing deeply, he went over to go over that part of the 'lawn' again. Bitch!

"You know...I haven't cut any lawns since I was fifteen." He told her when he was finished. "It would be better for everyone if I just paid that fat kid down the road $20 to do it. I'd get my afternoon off, he'd have money for more Ho Ho's. It's a win win."

She peeled the page off her legal pad and handed it to him, ignoring him completely. "Here."

"What's this?"

"It's a list of repairs, replacements and jobs that need to be done around this dump." Sally stated.

He turned the page over to continue reading. "This...this is a LONG list...hell, I don't know how to do half of this stuff!"

"That's why I'm giving it to you now. So you can figure out how to do it. I hear Youtube and the Internet is good for that kind of thing."

"You know...I live in an apartment for a REASON..."

"Well...this is that 'whatever it takes' that you promised Jim. This is what it's going to take. Now go scrape the grass off the underside of the lawnmower, put the leavings in the compost pile and go put it in the shed." Sally said simply.

"You have to scrape off the bottom of that thing? I figure it's been sandblasted clean already by the dirt. And she doesn't HAVE a compost pile."

She smiled pleasantly at him. "Check number three on the list." She poured two tall glasses of lemonade and handed him one. "Oh...don't look like that. You did a good job today. After we finish up here and you get cleaned up, I'm going to treat you to a home cooked meal as a reward. It's your favorite...lasagna." Reg sighed. "Now what are the rules?"

"Don't let her know I'm helping around the house. But she's going to see repairs." He protested.

"I know she'll see repairs. Don't let her know YOU are helping around the house...Come on, she's going to be home soon."

+

Reg was picking at the lasagna when the inevitable question came up from Jim. "What did you two do all day?"

Sally slowly picked up her glass of iced tea and took a long sip. "We were at Beth's house while Reg was doing some repairs."

Jim looked at his two teen aged children and said very carefully. "Oh." He took a slow bite of garlic bread. "Do you think that's wise?" he asked after he finished chewing.

"Yes." Came her short reply. Even the kids glanced up at the feeling of tension. After dinner, Reg quickly excused himself and the kids wandered off to do some homework.

"What are you thinking?" Jim asked Sally in his office after the meal, trying to keep his voice level.

Sally sat on the loveseat. "It's very simple. Reggie used to have a thing with Beth. He has no sense of ownership or obligation. He needs to see a blatant example of what his actions have done to someone he cared about once. He needs to invest some sense of...of...ownership...some sweat equity in SOMETHING. This is also a way for him to do some restitution. Though you should have seen him in the car when I showed him her house for the first time."

Jim clasped his hands together and squeezed, trying to formulate his words. "And how do you think Wes is going to see things? He's going to be enraged! It's throwing her infidelity in his face."

Sally nodded her head slowly. "You know what...I can see that. I didn't originally consider it...but I can see how he'd feel that way."

"So we're going to stop this." Jim nodded.

"No." Sally said firmly. She stood up and pointed at Jim. "The person I'm almost as mad at as Reggie and Beth is Wesley! It's been what, four months? He's barely spoken to his wife, he hasn't sent her ANY money, he's had ONE, count them, ONE visit to his kids. So please tell me why I should care about how Wes sees things?" Her nostrils flared.

"He's going to think that Beth or Reg is going to try to replace him as their father." Jim said. "That can be very dangerous. He's a man...we think differently." Jim warned her.

"You know how Wes can avoid that? He can step up to the plate and actually BE their father! She screwed up. She screwed up badly. She's sorry! I would think that if he ever loved her, he'd find some room in his heart to...to..."

"Forgive?" Jim asked. "Would you forgive me?"

Sally paced back and forth a few times as she thought about this. Jim appreciated how she always took the time to think things through. She might not always get an answer he agreed with...but she always thought about it. "If you did that to me, it would break my heart. I don't know that I would ever be able to trust you after that...but...after all these years...they've been good. Some of them have been fantastic...some," she smiled wryly "have really stunk. But...for the children...for all the good times we had, I'd at least try. But don't...please don't put us through that. Let's try to learn from their bad example, okay?" 

She reached over and hugged her husband and whispered in his ear "But if you did that to me, I'd probably make you suffer for a good long while." She squeezed him tighter as they smiled. 

She released him and looked at him seriously. "I think Wes owes her the same...or at least to find a way to interact with her so he can be a part of his children's lives. I can't expect him to take her back. I can expect him to stop being an ass."

"Okay...but just remember that I warned you that this might go south, Lucy." It was his pet name for her when he thought she'd tried something particularly harebrained.

+

This lead to the obvious and rather painful call on Jim's part. 

"Hello?" Wes' voice was tight.

"Wes...this is Jim. How are you?"

"Jim...Jim...you mean the Jim who knew about my wife fucking around on me? THAT Jim? Who thought my marriage was a joke? THAT Jim? I'm DANDY! How the FUCK are YOU Jim?"

"I never thought your marriage was a joke. I let you know almost as soon as I found out. I'm sorry if it came off as a little...flip."

"You ruined everything!"

Jim gritted his teeth. Shooting the messenger had a grand and glorious tradition and it wouldn't help to get sidetracked by details. "No...I told you something that you didn't want to hear."

"And now, after telling us what kind of scumbag Reg is for months and months...NOW you prefer his company to me. How do you spell 'hypocrite', because I can spell it with just three letters."

That was a surprise to Jim. He had barely talked to Wes after the confrontation in the bar and certainly hadn't shared about his new arrangement. "It's...complicated. Reg seems to feel honestly bad about what he's done and he's trying to make it up. He came to me to try to straighten things out, change and apologize."

"Well, you chose him over me, so don't bother calling me with any more of your 'help'." The phone slammed down. Jim stared at it for a minute. He hadn't even had a chance to discuss his kids, child support or Beth hanging around Reg. Two more attempts indicated that Wes wasn't taking his calls.

Jim shook his head. This was not good.

+

Reg looked down at the blonde head slowly going back and forth on his cock, her form kneeling in shadow. She had insisted on keeping the lights off. The familiar rasp of the tongue going over the glans was heavenly! It had been so long! Why had he denied himself?

A single fingernail stroked the tender skin behind his scrotum. What was it called again? The perineum? Something like that. Guys called it the 'taint' but you just didn't use those sort of words in front of a woman...unless she was into it. Even the Tommiest of Tom Boys tended to like a little euphemism in their love making. Always best to err on the side of caution.

His testicles started to tighten up. A fellatio professional, the girl caressed his sac and tugged gently on it, prolonging the pleasure. She withdrew almost entirely off his shaft, massaging the head of his cock with her lips and tongue. He groaned his release. One of the pistols fell off of its holder and he thoughtlessly replaced it back on the shelf. When had he gotten a gun? What room was he in?

The faceless blonde pulled down on his hips and he let his knees go soft and gently fell backwards onto the king bed, the coolness of the sheets feeling soothing on his naked form. She started scrunching up the bed, her knees straddling his torso and arms as she pulled up her blue skirt. "I sucked on you. It's time to return the favor..."

Reg smiled. He was a veteran at cunnilingus. He tried to peer at her face but it was still in shadow, her hair blowing in the wind with stars framing her head in the background. "I'll be more than happy to lick you till you can't stand it anymore."

"I didn't lick you...I sucked you. Now you can suck on mine..." Her hand appeared with a gun. 

Appalled, Reg looked up and saw the girl from the bar, Andrea's face! She forced the automatic into his mouth as his arms struggled against her suddenly imprisoning thighs. He heard the hammer come back. "I'm going to cum..." she giggled

Reg jolted awake. His sheets were a mess of jism and night terror sweat. The first nocturnal emission he'd had since very young and it had to come in a dream like THAT! He curled into a ball on his bed until he stopped shuddering. This was actually one of the better nightmares.




Reconciliation



Finally getting his heart rate under control, he slid out of bed and started stripping the sheets. That was one area where he was not a typical bachelor. He had plenty of spare bedding though he shuddered again at the prospect of using the satin sheets, both for their feel and because they were blue like her dress...his mind shied away from the memory. He found a nice patterned cotton set with a good thread count and dressed the bed in them.

Staggering into this bathroom, he cleaned up, taking care to swab his crotch thoroughly twice. He peered into the mirror at his face. Not good. Sleep was off the menu for now. Instead, he wandered into his living room. Standing alone on the divider of his kitchen nook was a lone bottle of scotch. However, despite the fears of both Sally and his therapist, he didn't bother to look at it. It had no natural allure to him except as a sleep aid. Drinking was something he did when he was trolling for girls at the bar because it was expected. It was not something he did for itself. His father had taught him that lesson over decades.

Instead he wandered over to the corner for one of his more recent acquisitions: a punching bag on a stand. He started wrapping his hands, thankful that he had a first floor corner apartment and that Mrs. McGurty who lived upstairs was almost entirely deaf. Considering his former social schedule, she'd have to be.

Slowly but with increasing speed, he tried to punch the nightmares away... 

+

"What's this?" Sally demanded of Reg as he scraped the caulk out from around the cracked window pane. A truck had just pulled up with the name "Dilbert's Heating and Cooling" into Beth's driveway. Reg took the putty knife and pried the two window pane pieces out.

"That is number 12 on the list." Reg said calmly.

"That is YOUR list Reg. I told you that you personally harmed her. You get to personally fix things in her life as much as you're able."

"And what makes you think I have any idea how to fix an oil furnace? People study for months and years to fix those things! I am not about to add three dead bodies from carbon monoxide poisoning to the stuff I've done. So you can let them do their jobs or the deal is off. I'm not about to become a murderer for your principles."

Sally gave him a penetrating look for a short time and finally nodded. "Okay." She acquiesced evenly.

Reg smiled and pressed the new pane of glass into the frame and picked up the putty to secure it in place. His face slackened. "Oh shit!"

Beth's battered Ford Focus pulled into the driveway.

+

"How could you do this to me?" Beth railed at Sally. "HIM...HERE?"

"Calm down. Do you want some chamomile tea? Everything looks better over a cup of tea."

"No thank you. Sally, what is REG doing here?"

"How's your water heater? Water stop coming out brown?" Sally asked, pouring two cups of tea anyway.

"Yes...Reg, Sally. We're talking about Reg." She accepted the cup wordlessly and blew on it before sipping.

"Mmm hmm. Your porch light is working now. Oh...and the drawers on the bathroom vanity are fixed."

"Am I having a solo conversation here?" Beth asked.

"No...oh...hang on." Sally walked to the back door where April was swinging on a lone rope hanging from a tree, her only form of recreation in the yard. Little Jimmy, Beth's son, was standing, tossing a ball up and down in his hands as he stood near Reggie. "Reg...we might as well get her oil change done today. I'll run you down to the store after we finish talking." He just looked at her and nodded.

"Oil change?" Beth had been dreading that little expense. They wanted $50 for an oil change at the Midas. She had been looking around for a coupon, one of the 3,279 things on her personal to-do list, between balancing her checkbook, finding new clothes for Jimmy and buying a vibrator with money she didn't have.

"Reg, for obvious reasons, feels guilty. He wants to make good on the bad stuff he's done. He's been helping out around the house. You've noticed the work, haven't you?"

"Yes." Beth was actually angry at her friends for doing things around the house...but not quite mad enough to actually demand the key back from Sally or say anything. An added dollop of self loathing for her weakness to add to her infidelity. "I didn't know it was him." She spat.

"And if he paid for a contractor, would that make it better? If Jim did it, would that be better?"

"Yes...no...I don't know. I certainly don't want him violating my privacy." Unbidden, her eyes looked outside again.

"I've been monitoring him every second. He's been a perfect gentle...okay, he's Reg but he isn't sneaking or snooping. He comes, he whines, he fixes something. And frankly, he'd RATHER pay someone."

"Why don't you let him then?" Beth pressed.

"He broke it, he bought it. Will money fix what happened to you? You don't help people with money; you help people with sweat. If he just tossed some money at your house, we'd think he was just trying to buy his way back into our good graces. Which do you think he values more, his cash or his time?"

Beth got up and got some more hot water, refilling both their cups and bringing over the cream and sugar. "So I'm some kind of punishment? Take away Reg's free time? This isn't some stupid plan to hook me up with Reg now that...now that...Wes is gone?"

Sally looked at her appraisingly for a while. "I wasn't around then, but from what Jim told me, you and Reg used to be quite an item in high school and college. What happened? Everyone was surprised that the two of you didn't get married."

Beth bit her lip and looked at the table. "I went off to school and he stayed here. We...were sort of on a break. When I got back, he seemed to be running around with every slut in town. Who wants to date someone like that?"  Her hands twisted a dishtowel on the table.

Sally analyzed that statement. "I guess all the girls who went out with him." She sipped at her tea. "So...a break?"

"JIMMY...APRIL! Get inside and wash up!" Beth shouted. Sally glanced at the clock. It was just past 4:00. "Thank you for coming over and your intentions. I need to start making dinner for the kids. Please keep him away from here."

Sally shrugged. "Suit yourself." She stood and went to the screened in back porch. She grabbed the frame through one of the tears in the screening to push open the door. "Reg! No oil change today. Let's go to my place for dinner..."

Reg forlornly entered the back porch. "Lasagna?"

"Of course!" Sally gushed. "I'm trying a new recipe just for you. It's vegetarian." Reg's jaw rippled.

Someone tramped up the basement steps in the kitchen to Beth's surprise. She had forgotten the HVAC van in her yard after the shock of seeing Reg in her house. "Okay...we finished up vacuuming out the vents, cleaning the filters, we replaced one of the burners and adjusted the mix ratio. When's the last time that thing was cleaned?" the workman asked. His tone indicated that rounding it to the decade would suffice. The furnace worker held out an invoice. Beth took it and blanched. It was far more than her weekly salary.

Wordlessly, Reg handed the man a credit card and the worker started to fill out the information. "What is this about no oil change?" He knew why. Some masochistic impulse made Reg want to verify the reason.

"She doesn't want our help anymore." Sally shrugged. Reg carefully kept his face neutral. He didn't look at Beth's face. For her part, Beth stared into her cup of tea.

Finally, she flushed with embarrassment and turned back to the back porch, looking out back for her kids to vent some of her feelings. "JIMMY...AP..." she stopped. The kids were at the back of the 'garage' and were pointing and jumping up and down excitedly. "What's going on?" she looked at Sally and Reg.

+

The boxes of the unassembled swing set sat there, the kids excitedly pulling on her arms, thanking her. "This is SO unfair..." Beth said wretchedly.

"Number 15 on the list. And I didn't make the list, so don't blame me." Reg said with a little heat. "I'll just borrow a truck from work and cart it out of here." he offered.

She shot him daggers then glanced at the rolls of screening and pipes lying next to the swing set. She did some mental calculus about handyman fees and quality of life vs. personal emotional discomfort. "Just make sure you stay outside and keep away from my kids..." she said resignedly. She had failed her marriage. She wouldn't fail her kids if it was in her power. But she still fought a surge of shame at giving in to this impulse.

+

Man makes plans and God laughs. Actually, at this point, Reggie wanted to start screaming at these man made plans! He had bought an Eastern Jungle Gym Fantasy Swing Set 3. The house Beth lived in had absolutely NOTHING as far as the eye could see around these little houses for the kids to play on and memories of days gone by had caused him to splurge a bit more than he anticipated in the swing set department. Okay...a LOT more!

It was a swing set. He had almost laughed at the salesman when he strongly suggested that they get an installer...and Reg had been shocked at the price they were asking for installation. How hard could it be? He found out.

It was 'two slides ,a spiral slide, two club houses, a rock wall, a tire swing, a gliding horse, monkey bars, two towers and a set of rings' hard. The installation manual looked like a phone book. He had never had a swing set like this when he was a kid...and now he was in the unenviable position of putting one together. Sally's diktats and his own mulish stubborn pride both conspired to assure that he was facing this dragon alone. He was tired of not having control of his life. This swing was his bitch! Though if he was honest with himself, he would probably have had a better shot at the furnace.

He used his ratchet set to fix one side of crossbar AA62431#@%&^ muther fucker on one end of the frame. Finally tightening it down solidly, he went over to attach the other side.

The 'other side' was hanging 4 inches short of the other brace. He'd used the wrong part...AGAIN!

He threw his ratchet on the ground and started kicking at the cardboard box, cursing. A girlish giggle stopped him.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw April watching him. "You said a bad word, Uncle...I mean Mr. Reggie. Mommy says 'm not supposed to call you Uncle any more."

"Hi April. That's okay. You aren't supposed to be outside when I'm working?" He made the sentence a bit of a question. "Where's Jimmy?"

"It's okay. Mommy is cleaning up the house." Her face split into a huge grin. "Daddy is coming home...I mean here! We're going to the zoo!" Her face GLOWED at the prospect. Her nose scrunched into girlish disgust. "Jimmy is playing his stupid video games."

"Wes is coming here?" Reg's eyes bugged out. He looked around the yard. There was a quarter built swing, but nothing that said 'Reg'. He needed to get out of here! 'Shi....eeez!" Another giggle. He started gathering up his tools quickly. "Honey, you need to go inside real quick and draw a picture or something for your dad while I get things cleaned up and put away. Okay?"

"Yay! Picture!" She ran across the grass to the newly repaired screened in back porch.

Reg lifted up his tool box and put it in the tiny trunk of his Mustang. He felt the wind shift back and forth. He looked at the storm clouds on the horizon with a sense of foreboding. The day didn't look good for the zoo already...

+

"No Wes! You can't do this!" Beth wanted to scream into the phone, but she tried valiantly to keep her voice low.

Reg entered her house. He needed to use the toilet before he left and he caught the tail end of the conversation.

"One day! Just one day! I don't care how far behind you are on your work. I...just shut up a minute...they've been looking forward to this for the last three days! What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to tell them? My boss has overtime scheduled for me too! Tell him you have a family emergency."

Beth saw Reg standing there, gave him a glare and wandered into her bedroom and slammed the door. "Don't you put this on me! This isn't a trap to have you served. They are your CHILDREN." Came muffled through the door.

The living room was only three steps into the house. The atmosphere in the house felt like a morgue. Jimmy sat there, a video zombie, the only thing moving were his fingers. The screen showed an armored character jump into action...and die. "Darn it." Jimmy whispered. Once again he restarted the game...and died in 5 seconds. "Darn it." His face was a blank mask. His eyes were stridently focused on the screen, trying desperately to ignore all outside stimuli, particularly the conversation his mom was having.

April sat at the low coffee table. There was a crayon drawing in front of her with a lawn, some smiling oval figures in a line next to some long necked yellow blob. She picked up her red crayon and started to make a round circle in the sky...then she grabbed the crayon in her fist and started angrily making long lines across the people on the page past the edges onto the coffee table as well, her face intent and scrunched up, a far cry from what it had looked like when she told Reg about the zoo trip.

"Reg..." Mr. Perry sat on the sofa next to his son, who was obsessively focused on the television in front of him, the NES controller gripped tightly. Mr. Perry frowned slightly. "Give the game a rest. I got something important to tell you."

Heaving a deep sigh, Reggie allowed Simon Belmont's whip to stop flashing and allowed the ghosts to kill him. The NES system was his birthday bribe this year. So he didn't ask his dad questions. So he believed the lies.

"Son...your mother called...she can't make it again this year for Christmas, but she said she'd send you a couple of presents. She's sorry but she couldn't get away. It's her overseas job..." His father looked at him intently, gauging his reaction.

Reg fought his inner desires. He wanted to scream at his father. He wanted to curse at him for his weakness and his lies. He didn't know how to deal with this though at this age. Last year, he'd gotten a Transformer 'from mom'. But one block over, Wayne Hannigan's trash had an empty Transformer box...and Wayne didn't get a Transformer that Christmas. He would sooner believe that Santa gave him a present than his long absent mother. Plus there were all those half heard conversations where 'run off' and 'abandonment' figured prominently at the family picnics when they thought he couldn't hear.

Instead he said in monotone "That's good to know. Thanks Dad." They sat looking at each other several more seconds. "I hope..." Reg had to pause and take a breath "I hope she's doing well wherever she is. Maybe next time she can talk to me on the phone."

His father winced not foreseeing this obvious request. "Well...you know how expensive overseas calls are...and with the time changes, your busy schedule... she never knows when you're around. She...she still cares about you. She's just..." he trailed off.

"Yeah...'just'... Can I go back to my game, Dad?" Reg was desperate for the zen emptiness that video games brought him. Where things were bright and shiny and clearly defined. Where mothers never left. They might die, but they didn't leave.

Thankful for the reprieve, his Dad nodded briskly. "Sure Reg." He got up to go to the garage and his stashed bottle that he didn't know Reg knew about. He never got drunk...but sometimes he needed to soften the world a bit and this topic of conversation was always stressful to him.

Reg waited until he was gone and restarted his game. He shouldn't have bothered. He played one of the worst sessions he ever had on Castlevania. It would have helped if he didn't need to wipe his eyes every few seconds or so. 

Reg pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead and breathed deeply as he fought memories of the past. He took three steps to her bedroom door and knocked. He heard "Hi...Gloria? Is Mr. Benchly in? Okay...I'll hold..." Without waiting for a response, he opened the door. Beth was on the phone looking at him as he came in.

"So he isn't making it?" Reg asked.

"Shhh!" She hissed at him.

"They're kids, they're not stupid. And besides, when he doesn't show up, they'll know then. Is he making it?" he asked again pointedly.

She hesitated and shook her head. "I have to get off work..."

Reg turned his head. "Kids! How would you guys like to go to COSI? You can get ice cream." He knew there was no way she'd agree to letting her kids go so he decided to deny her the choice. 

"What? No! They can't go with YOU. Their father..."

"Is gone! He's not here. Please..." a note of pleading entered his voice. "You can't leave them here to stew on this. You need to...distract them. Otherwise, they'll just...it will hurt them all day. Longer. I know...I REALLY KNOW what they're going through. It's better if they can forget. You can't miss work and you probably can't get a babysitter quickly. Just this one time. I'm not going to hurt them. You can't...please let me do this!"

Jimmy walked in, his face still closed and intent. "Daddy isn't making it, is he?" At the shake of his mom's head, he sighed. "I'd like to go to COSI."

"What's COSI?" April asked, her finger stuck in her mouth, a habit that Beth had thought they had already conquered.

"It's this cool science museum. They have electrical stuff, and a car on a teeter totter that you can lift by yourself and rats that play basketball..." as he started recounting some of the things he'd heard from his friends, Jimmy's voice started to take on a bit of enthusiasm

Anguish crossed Beth's face. "They can go." There was a moderate cheer from the kids. Reg turned to go. "Wait." She waited with the phone pressed to her ear. "Hi...Mr. Benchly...did you want me to bring in some bagels or doughnuts for the group? Okay...see you in a few." She hung up and started studiously digging into her purse. She withdrew a couple of twenties, money she could ill afford and pressed it into his hand. He opened his mouth, but shut it at her glare and accepted the money.

He was withdrawing his hand when she suddenly grabbed it, the first physical contact between the two of them since That Night. She looked him in the eye. "Reg...don't bond with them. They aren't yours."

He surprisingly looked right back. "They should have been."

+

COSI was a success.

+

Reg finished running the rope around the stakes he had put into the perimeter of the yard. Walking carefully, he stepped gently on the sod as he ran a hose out to the middle of the yard, setting up the sprinkler carefully. New sod took some time to set properly according to the internet. He had manured and rototilled the soil underneath to give the sod a chance to put down some deep roots. The rope was to remind Jimmy and April not to run on it while it was still in a fragile state. He'd get the back done with his next paycheck. He found he was whistling.

Taking a large knife, he started carving the remaining squares of sod to fit into the curves of the walk. Occasionally, the breeze pushed some droplets from the cascading water onto his back. He looked with a sense of accomplishment at the two new trees in the front. He'd have to remember later to disconnect the hose and water their root balls deeply so they flourished.

He heard the slam of the screen door as the spring on the ancient assembly yanked it back closed and looked over his shoulder. Off handedly, he thought it was time to try and price a new door. He wasn't sure if he'd get better service at Roush or one of the big box stores.

Beth was there with a guarded expression on her face. She walked to the edge of the step and squatted in her sundress, watching him. He flashed her a smile and carved another clump of grass off the square and set it firmly in place. He was feeling good enough today to try another crack at that goddamn swing set again. The kids had continued to bug him about it and even Beth had made a joke once.




Reconciliation



"Reg?"

He stood and tossed the clump into the wheelbarrow with the rest of the trimmings and looked at her. "Yeah?"

She looked at the walkway briefly and then looked up at him. "Reg...there's no easy way to say this. I really appreciate the work you've done to this place. I do. But you are getting too close. I'll repay..."

Reg raised his hand. "Stop. Just...stop. Okay." Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. "I guess the house is finally looking good enough. You got what you wanted and now that you have it...well good bye Reg." She looked like she wanted to protest, but he held up his hand. "No. I don't want to know the reason. It's enough that you made the point. Say goodbye to the kids for me. I'm sure you already have the excuses for them all set up in your mind." 

Cutting her off, not allowing her her say was a small measure of revenge, but he couldn't help himself from feeling bitter. Long dormant feelings had started to emerge again. This felt like a kick in the teeth.

He walked over to the outside spigot and turned off the sprinkler. There really wasn't a need for him to worry about how deeply the roots went anymore.

+

Mr. Perry walked down the bleachers proudly. Even as a sophomore, Reggie had been allowed to play almost half the game as a halfback. It had been a good game too. He'd gotten two first downs for the team.

Approaching as his son was putting away his equipment in his bag, Mr. Perry slowed down. There were two girls in cheerleader uniforms. One of them was giggling at something Reggie said and reached out and brushed his arm and beamed at him, then glanced at her girlfriend and the pair burst into some more giggles.

Remembering wistful days of teenage romance past he stopped a respectful distance away and looked out at the totally uninteresting playing field, pretending to give them their privacy while keeping an eye on the proceedings out of the corner of his eye. He had an ache of nostalgia as he recalled how it was to be a teenaged boy.

However things didn't go quite as he expected. The girls flounced their pom poms, they giggled, they flirted. The one who was obviously smitten with his son at one point pulled on his arm, which Mr. Perry thought was just about an engraved invitation.

His son quirked a little smile and shook his head, throwing his helmet and other gear into his duffle bag.

Walking up as the girls went off to join a mixed group of boys and girls, Mr. Perry watched his son. "So...what was that all about?"

"Oh...it was nothing. Jenny just wanted to see if I was going to the party with the team. Phil's mom is having a little get together."

"And you aren't going?" his father asked a bit puzzled.

"I got a paper and we have the lawn..."

"She looked like she wanted you to go. Jenny?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm not going. She wants us to be a couple."

"She seems cute..." dad started.

Reg pushed his bag down. "Yeah Dad. She's cute. And Bernard Bradley is always trying to hang around her too. And she broke up with David Winslow and now she's coming on to me. Why should I start dating a girl who is just going to..." he stopped

His father's face was pale. "Son...not all girls are like your mother." Much like the 'Santa Claus' discussion among most families, the reality of what happened to Reg's mom had become an unspoken understanding between the two. "There are good ones out there. Ones who'll value you for who you are and stick around. You shouldn't be so serious about this and go have some fun."

"If there are so many great girls out there, why aren't you dating then, Dad?" At the look on his father's face, he felt ashamed. "Dad...I didn't mean that. I'm...I guess I'm not ready. I'm just a teenager. I don't understand girls and relationships and any of that. I'll...I'll make an effort. I will! But..."

"Yeah, I know son." He gripped his son's shoulder and the two manhandled the heavy duffle to his pick-up truck. "When you get ready."

+

He raged at home. Words like 'ungrateful whore', 'tease' and 'user' tripped off his lips. He'd tried, God knows he'd tried to do something; something to make it up to her; something to make himself feel less guilty.

When Reg had calmed down, he thought about things. He'd done this to her...with her help, the bitter side of his soul reminded him, and so would HE want HER around if things were reversed?

At the end of the day, she didn't...couldn't want his help. Jimmy and April would suffer. Reg frowned. Whatever happened, Beth and he deserved what they got, but not the kids. He remembered his childhood. SOMEONE owed them something.

He picked up the phone book. "Turner Investigations." Came the gruff voice over the earpiece.

"Yeah...I need you to do a trace on someone." Reg considered. This was an opportunity to clear up a lot of loose threads in his life. "Actually, I have a few people I want you to look up." One couple in particular stood out in his mind. The pair who had beaten him up. He should keep his eye out for them. Why, he wasn't sure about.

They set up the meet.

+

Jim's plan to start a reconciliation between Reg and Hank and Phil a week later was a disaster. Phil's house needed a new roof. Since they guys had spent a few summers in high school and college doing roof work, it seemed silly to actually PAY someone to do it for them. At least that is how Jim characterized it to Phil, who tended to be a bit cheap. Getting the gentlemen (and Reg) to work together might be a way to remind them of the old times and to strengthen the bonds between them. Jim didn't want them to forget what Reg did. He wanted to remind them that Reg was that...and also other qualities as well.

"Plus, he gets a free house slave...just like Beth." Reg mentioned to Jim as he pulled the brand new tool box out of the trunk of his Mustang.

"That there is a pretty piss poor attitude. I'm sorry things didn't work out like my wife thought they would with Beth, but I'm trying here." Jim said.

"Yeah." They walked up the nice driveway toward the lawyer's house. Belatedly, Reg added "Thanks for that. You've been better than I deserve."

"I know. That's why they call it grace. You can't earn it. It has to be free."

The front door opened and out came Kelly DeVeccio, Phil's daughter and a cute little blonde. The two high schoolers turned and Kelly shouted into the open doorway "We're going to Barbara's house to study, mom. We're going to walk." 

Reg looked at both of the girls carefully. The blonde's backpack was bulky. Kelly's bright yellow one flopped on her back like an empty balloon.

"Eyes front!" Jim hissed in his ear.

"Yeah." Reg said distractedly. "Didn't Phil buy us a round a few months ago when she passed her drivers test...then spent the rest of the night pissing and moaning about how he couldn't sleep at night now?"

"I wasn't there for that. You were there. So what?" Jim was a bit nervous and distracted, not sure how Wendy would react to Reg's presence.

"Nothing." Reg watched the girls walking up the hill along the road. Teenagers with driver's licenses...walking. When there were cars in the driveway. When they came to the top of the hill, he noted the blonde went west while Kelly went east. He shook his head.

"Let's get to work." Jim pressed.

Wendy was cool to both Jim and Reg. Coffee wasn't offered and the greetings were perfunctory at best. Out back, the pallets of shingles lay there, the ladders drawn up and the tool belts on display.

Phil and Hank just looked at him initially. "Well" Hank finally said to Jim, "Let's get started."

They used some regular spades to rip the shingles off the roof. For the first hour, there was little said.

"So...finally given up on trying to get Beth to fuck around on you again?" Phil finally spat out.

"What?" Reg asked.

"You...you're going to her house regular. I can't believe you've got the balls to do that."

"I was trying to apologize. I wanted to make things up to her. I don't know how." Reg explained.

"Quietly" Jim chided.

"Sure you did." Hank added. "We've heard all about your act."

Reg slowly turned back to them. "Yes you have. And you ASKED for story after God Damn story. It's all fun and games as long as it was someone else getting fucked. At least Jim had the balls and the character to drop me like a hot rock. You two decided to act like you were holier than thou pretty late in the game."

"Are you saying this is OUR fault?" Phil said from where he was working on a balky nail with a claw hammer.

"No. I'm saying you are fucking hypocrites." Reg said simply. From his perspective on the roof, Reg saw a yellow Camero pull into a side street. He saw someone with a yellow backpack shove her head in the open window. "What's going on with Kelly these days?" Reg asked simply, his brow furrowed.

That was when Phil swung his hammer at Reg's ankle. Luckily, from Reg's perspective, they were on the first floor roof. The roses bushes he landed on were pretty strong too, though he considered that more of a mixed blessing at the time.

Reg hobbled over to the picnic bench. "What did you do that for?" He massaged his knee and elbow.

"You stay the hell away from my daughter! Jim, what the hell were you thinking. This guy is always going to be a pussy hound! He can't control himself." Phil yelled at Jim as they started going down the ladder, Jim at speed, Hank and Phil at a more leisurely pace.

"That's not true." Reg said quietly but intensely.

"I can't believe you let him back into our lives. Aren't you worried about him and Sally, with his smooth ways? He's a snake." Phil continued.

"Fuck you Phil. He doesn't have to worry." Reg spat.

"Why not?"

"Because he's my friend and because she loves him."

"Big deal! You can talk the skin off a snake. Wes was a friend too."

Reg started laughing quietly. 'You don't know shit and it's so funny, I can't even describe it. I remember when you THREE couldn't wait for my stories. How this one or that one would suck my cock or give me their ass when they wouldn't for their husband. And you ALL really grooved on that.  What did you say, Phil? 'I was the only sex life you had,' you idiot. As much as you two loved my stories, good old Wes, stand up guy Wes, 'Reg you dirty bastard, how dare you sleep with his wife' Wes...Wes...that fucker, he wanted to JOIN me on my hunts! Always wanted to cruise the bars with me...just the two of us 'buddies'. He has BETH at home and he wanted...he wanted...Wes was your friend. He was never my friend." Reg's hands gathered into fists.

"What was that?" Jim asked. This was new information.

"You worried about me and your daughter, Phil? They are ALL someone's daughters. That girl you dumped badly in High School, Hank? Do you want to talk about that little 'procedure' you paid off in college, Phil? You fucked over their daughters. Or do only your daughters count, your friends count?"

"And the big question was 'why'. Never once did you ask why a woman who swore before God, man and her family to be true, WHY would she be willing to suck my cock and risk EVERYTHING! How fucking lonely does a girl have to be to do that? You really thought I seduced them all? You stupid assholes. A lot of them pursued ME! You think I targeted married chicks. I just talked to pretty chicks. I talked and I danced and I listened. That's it. If she didn't care about her marriage, why should I? Their husbands were so damned busy with wood shop or the games, or hunting with his friends, or work, that he couldn't stop by for a fifteen dollar bouquet of flowers at Kroger except maybe at the last minute on Valentine's Day." 

Reg blew out his breath and continued. "You know...I had this call once on Valentine's Day. This woman invited me over to her house. Her dumbshit was working on some critically important thing of the week at work which replaced the critically important thing of LAST week and was probably getting ready to deal with the incredibly important thing of NEXT week. Meanwhile the person he supposedly exchanged VOWS with he abandoned...and not for the first time. Not for the second time. Not for the twentieth time. She cried when I told her I already had a date that night. She...cried." Reg's face looked dark. "What am I supposed to think about that? You treat me like the disease. I'm just a symptom of some seriously fucked up marriages."

Jim stood to the side, his arms folded and his chin resting on his chest as he'd listened to this exchange. "You make it sound like you're doing some kind of public service instead of tearing relationships apart."

"No...I wasn't helping." Reg deflated a little. "Most of those girls were on their way to divorce court anyway, they just stopped to ride the Reg on their way out." He cast another glance at Phil. "Just like Wendy."

"WHAT? You sunnovabitch, how dare you tell me you fucked..." Hank and Jim had to grab Phil quickly.

"I never slept with Wendy...but you're one, two years tops from her walking out on your ass or cheating on you."

"Shush Phil! What do you mean, Reg?" Hank asked.

"She stopped bugging him about his weight. For the last ten years, she's been bugging him about his heart and his blood pressure and his weight and he hasn't given a damn. Now she isn't. She's quit. I see it in her eyes. He doesn't care about her opinion, so she's starting to not care about him."

"I...I got a slow metabolism..." Phil said, looking nervous.

"THAT ISN'T THE POINT! She doesn't care if you succeed, she wants to see you TRY! She wants to know that you give a damn enough to DO SOMETHING! And all she sees is that you'd rather shove another cannoli in your mouth instead of spending extra five years with her and the kids. If...IF I ever wanted to make a run at Wendy, it would have been easy. And you put her there..." Reg shook himself. "You know what...this isn't worth it. I thought there was a way back, but there isn't." He started walking away.

Jim called after him. "Reg. REG! Don't do this." Things had escalated way out of control. Tempers were getting out of hand.

"It's done."

"But...stick around and gather your tools. We can talk..."

"I only ever used those things to help out you guys. They're worthless to me now. I live in an apartment, remember?" The Mustang door shut with finality.

Out of curiosity, Reg turned east and slowed as he passed the side street where he had seen the Camaro.

Kelly was in plain view. Some greasy looking thin guy who looked like he was barely out of high school was munching on her face.

Reg drove on. Phil's problems were no longer his. 

+

Reg got the call that evening about the time he got into the apartment from coming from Phil's house. "Mr. Perry, I need to meet you. When are you available?" There was a sense of urgency in the voice.

"What's the problem?"

"Well...I have some of the information you want. Plus I have something for you." Mr. Turner said.

"How about the Buffalo Wild Wings in Grove City at 7:00 p.m.?"

"Perfect."

Mr. Turner, the private investigator Reggie hired, sat at the bar. Reg hopped onto the stool next to him and ordered a Coke. The private investigator sipped his beer a bit nervously and slid an envelope over to him. "That first job didn't take too long. There's his address and the info on his new car. He's still at the same company, but he mostly works from his apartment these days. He incorporated and went to contract work to hide his money. He's not on the normal employment rolls, which is why her lawyers couldn't find him. They were looking in the wrong books."

Reg took the envelope without opening it. He was unsure exactly what he was going to do with this. "And the other matter?"

Mr. Turner sighed deeply. "Well...I'm afraid I have a bit of bad news for you." He squirmed on his seat a bit and looked around the bar again nervously.

"Oh?" He was making Reg nervous, who also started to scope out the place.

"Okay...I hate to say this, but I was burned. I went to a number of bars including the one you suggested. Not a lot of joy, but occasionally, I got a nibble. She is...memorable. Likes to dance and likes to drink but she never gets tipsy. Nobody really remembers him very well, but hey, the plight of being a guy, right?" He licked his lip. "Okay. Are you sure about the names? Because I got a bunch of names. Curtis, Andrea, Guy, Faylene, Blondie, Tyler even Treasure. I think they are the same people, but the only solid clue is that GPS bracelet she wears." He stretched his neck. "So...I'm asking the questions at this one bar and the bartender said he was going to do me a favor and not rat me out. It seems that they offer a bounty at the places they go to. If someone comes looking for them, they offer a grand to the first person who verifiably gives them a call. Five hundred for the second caller. This bartender I knew so he wasn't buying. But I'd already been to a lot of places so...well...here." He slid a little square of plastic over to Reg. 

"Someone broke into my office. I found this on my desk next to your file. What exactly have you gotten me involved in?" the PI asked accusingly.

Reg picked it up. It was his old license that had been stolen by the couple who had abused him in the bar that fateful night. The night they had warned him in dire tones about if he went looking for them. It seemed like tough guy talk. Now... He started to tremble.

+

Like so many owners of fancy cars, Reg had parked far away from other vehicles with empty spots on either side of his beloved Mustang. The blue Charger parked right next to his vehicle. A laughing blonde got out of the driver's side. Her sneaker was distinctly untied. "...and she said 'Not in this lifetime.'" She looked at the restaurant parking lot. "I don't see your car? Where is it? No...it's not there. You said Grove City, right? Oops! DUBLIN? No, no, no...you said Grove City...Damn, I'm at the wrong one. Okay, I'll be there in a few." She glanced down and looked at her sneaker. She squatted to tie it. 

That accomplished her hand dipped into her purse and her fist came out. That hand grasped the quarter panel of the wheel well of Reg's Mustang to help hoist her to her feet. Her hand came away from the car empty, the GPS tracking unit firmly mounted in the wheel well. She climbed back into the Charger and drove off. 

The exchange had taken 20 seconds. Andrea was no longer wearing her bracelet.

Curtis just waited until a crowd was walking in front of the windows to grab the other GPS unit from the PI's car.

+

"Why didn't you try to talk to him? Why didn't you call?" Sally demanded of her husband. "He was making progress!"

Jim rubbed his face. "I'm taking a lot of flak from the guys. They are nowhere NEAR ready to forgive Reg for anything...and I'm not sure I am either. He isn't answering my calls...and neither is Wes. So, yes, I went by his place." Jim paused, puzzled. "Reg moved. Overnight to hear his landlord tell me about it. One day, he's there and the next, he took a day off, abandoned his security deposit and moved out. I saw his car at the dealer, so he hasn't disappeared, but I think at this point we let everyone cool down and figure things out."

"But..." Sally protested.

"Honey...he has to WANT forgiveness...and the other ones have to want to GIVE it. We are pushing too hard."

Sally acquiesced with poor grace.

+

"Hey dad!" Reg bounded into the house at a sprint. Mr. Perry looked up from their dinner preparations. His son seemed a lot more energetic than usual. His face glowed.

"What's up son?"

For a few seconds, his son wanted to play it cool, like nothing was up, but it was fair to bursting out of him. Finally, breathlessly, he spat it out. "Dad...I've been dating a girl. A NICE girl. A real true kind of girl! She's nothing like...She's different. We like the same things, we like the same music...Dad...she's special." His enthusiasm fairly bubbled out of him.




Reconciliation



Mr. Perry had a warning against over exuberance on the tip of his tongue. But he recalled how heedless he was when he was that age and so the warning went unsaid. Let his son enjoy the moment.

But it wasn't a moment. Junior and Senior year were far different at the Perry household. Beth seemed a fixture in their lives and brought a stability and softness to his son which was woefully lacking before. Both of them seemed crazy about each other.

Mr. Perry smiled indulgently and let their love grow.

+

"So...we're in the hotel room, and like...she has the last minute jitters that they always get. Or maybe she's tarting herself up a bit more. Don't know." Brett (real name Harvey) took a swig of a martini.

"What happened next?" Claude (George) asked for the rest of the table.

"Well, I'd done the usual, turning her cell phone ringer volume down to zero so she doesn't get any reminders of home, but the thing kept flashing. Finally, it gave a little vibration. Some stupid text message."

"What was the message?" Reg (Reg) asked. He slammed the rest of the drink and waved over to Stephanie the waitress. He needed another drink.

"I dunno...something like '911 get home' from her stupid cuckold hubby." Brett (Harvey) shrugged off noncommittally. 

"What did you do?" Claude (George) asked.

"What do you think? I hadn't gotten my nut off. I wasn't about to let her run off home. I flipped her purse so it looked like it fell over and dropped the cell under the bed."

"Did she have any kids?" Reg (Reg) asked.

"Who cares?" Brett (Harvey) asked honestly.

Two months Reg thought. Two months of avoiding the guys. Jim called occasionally, but he pretty much ignored them. Two months of living in an empty apartment. The guys didn't want him. They'd made that clear. He was unclean. So instead he was stuck with this. He looked around at these fellow players. There wasn't a sense of 'like' between them, not like his former friends. There was just this...candor. They lived the lifestyle and no one else understood it. They all knew the game of being a 'playa'. No matter what they were talking about, they laughed a little too loud, they seemed to drink a little too much and they pretended to be having a wonderful party to attract the interest of any girls in the bar. Reg found his normally good acting skills tested to the hilt for some reason. It wasn't fun anymore.

They said a man was judged by the company he kept...and right now Reg was judging himself pretty damned harshly. He scratched at the red crayon marks on the tabletop. He blinked. There was no red crayon on the tabletop. Great, now he was hallucinating. 

"Oh...can you believe it? I got thrown out of a place last week. Told I 'wasn't welcome'" Claude (George) added to the conversation.

"Oh? That happened to me a few months back. Said I wasn't the type of clientele he wanted. What was the name of that place?" Brett (Harvey).

"Second Chance Salon." Claude (George) answered. "Hey...looks like Hector (real name Hector) might be getting lucky."

Reg, who was in a brown mood, looked up from his latest drink. Hector was dancing with a slightly tipsy woman with blonde hair if her dance ability was any judge. He had a moment of panic at her blonde hair, since it was a similar length to Andrea's, but the woman was too tall. Her kinesthetics looked familiar. They swirled to the music. It was Beth.

He watched the 'dance', brooding. Hector swirled her. He plied her with drinks. He leaned in and made gentle, non-threatening bodily contact. They leaned into each other, giggling at witticisms. Reg knew every step, every swirl, every dip, every promenade of this dance. Reg had danced it enough himself.

It was with a certain amount of satisfaction that he noted that the girls whom Beth was ostentatiously with were serving as a pretty effective cock block. It was with substantially LESS satisfaction when he noted Beth took a cocktail napkin and a pen and wrote something that she handed Hector as she said her farewells. The girls went to the bar to pay and Hector slipped out front, returning less than 5 minutes later with a secret smile on his face. 

Hector importuned her a final time, just long enough for her friends to leave the bar first. Reggie found that he was grinding his jaw.

+

Reggie parked his car. It was an early model Ford Escort, bought from his car dealer's used car selection. They preferred that the sales force drove something spiffier, but Reg had expenses. Well...past tense.

He was glad to see Dad's car was missing. He didn't really want to talk to anyone. He shut the garage door behind his car and entered through the door into the kitchen. Once there, he slumped into a chair.

Looking at his chest, he saw a drop of tomato sauce. The shirt was ruined, of course. Everything was ruined. A stray thought occurred to him, and he opened his wallet and pulled out a card. The clock only said 7 p.m. Early dinner, public place. She even paid. How could he be that blind? The perfect setting for 'The Talk'...or should he say 'The Brush Off.'

He had time. The store was still open according to the times on the card. He walked over to the phone on the wall and picked up the receiver, using his other hand to brace himself against the wall next to the refrigerator. He punched in the 7 digits on the card.

"Hello...Mr. Arpad...yes. This is Reggie. Reg Perry." His tone was forced by sheer will into normalcy. "Yes, I'm fine. No, I'm not calling about my next payment. I know you're excited. About that...I'm going to be stopping in to get my deposit back." He forced a light, devil may care tone. "Well...you know...relationships. When do they ever work, huh? Yeah...I'll be coming in tomorrow to pick up the money." Reggie noticed that his other hand was beating the wall with a fist of its own accord. He stopped that with a thought. "No, I don't want a watch, but thank you for offering. I had another purchase in mind."

Four years. Four years. Four years. That kept repeating through his mind. He knew he was good looking. He had good grades in high school, though he wasn't a scholar. He was sporty. Tried and true blue. Hell, a lot of Beth's friends flirted with him, much less other girls. Obviously that wasn't enough for a relationship. 

Fuck relationships. Maybe it was time for Reg to stop taking women so seriously. Time for Reg to focus on Reg and have some fun like his dad told him.

He dialed the next number from memory. "Yeah. Hey Dave. It's Reg. The bosses have been on my ass about my car. We still have that sweet blue Mustang in the lot? Yeah. I want it. Make sure the other guys take it off the list. Nah...put it on a lease. Why face the commitment, right? Nope. Getting rid of the Escort. What kind of man drives something cheap and sensible like that? Some schumck husband. Sensible doesn't get you laid. You need the right bait if you're going to go fishing..."

He wondered of Melody was free this weekend. She'd always been flirting with him. Time to cut his losses and be realistic about the fidelity of women.

"Beth...BETH!" He called as they left the bar.

"Oops! Oh...hi Reggie. Nope...too late. I doon need a ride. Hect'r's going to take care of me." From behind her, Hector gave Reg a wink. He fully expected Reg to have his back according to 'man code', though Hector was unsure about why Reg was suddenly here interrupting his play.

"Hector." He nodded neutrally. "Since I live by her side of town, I'll take her." Reg wanted to keep this friendly. 

Hector was having none of it. " I've already got it covered."

"Yeah. He's got it covered. What the fck are you doin here 'nyway? Don't you got to go find some'ne to fuck?" Beth slurred while leaning on Hector's arm.

Booze did not suit Beth well and Hector started to get his back up. It was well past time to nip this in the bud. "Hector...isn't tonight BOWLING night?" Reg said pointedly.

"Yeah," Hector said with a smirk. Suddenly, the implication became clear. "What the fuck are you going on about bowling night?" Hector was married. Today was his 'bowling night.' 

"Sorry. She's a friend of a friend and I can't leave her like this."

"She's a big fucking girl." Hector said threateningly.

"Yeah...I'm a...hey...are you saying 'mm fat? Or are you saying I fck?" Beth looked owlishly at Hector.

"He's saying he forgot what day it was, because he wants to be able to tell Cynthia that he's been bowling tonight and Hector would love for me to confirm it since I'm part of the team." Reg stated in pointed tones.

"Fuck you!" Hector spat. He hopped from one foot to another, trying to make a decision about whether to push it or give it up. "Fuck the both of you." Spinning, he strode off to his car and chirped the tires as he drove out of the lot. 

Reg figured his relationship with 'Playa Posse' had pretty much come to a close by messing with Hector's game...and not a moment too soon in his opinion.

"Now you messed everyt'ing up. He was supposed to give me a ride home."

"What about your car?" Reg asked her.

"She wn't start. Besides, he was nice."

"He was looking for an easy piece of ass! Of course he was nice." Reg walked to his car and opened the glove box, withdrawing a screwdriver.

"What the fuck do you care? You don't own me. I've divorced...'member? Maybe in your long LONG line of conquests, you might remember little old me and Wes." Anger was sobering her up but that didn't look pretty on her either. "But I imagine you might forget. There are soooooo many."

"Look...I know it was a mistake. I'm sorry I hurt you and the kids, but I'm not letting you wake up tomorrow feeling like shit because you let that asshole have his way with you. It'll eat at you." He started to jimmy under her car hood and it popped up. There was her battery with the positive cable lying several inches from the terminal. "Particularly when you gave it up because you were drunk and fell for a stupid sophomore trick like this."

"Figures you'd know it..." she spat at him.

"Yeah. Because I'm just like Hector, right? I don't pull this shit on people." Memories of his conversation with Jim reemerged. "I mean...I hadn't gotten to his level." 'Yet' his subconscious added. He recalled what he had tried on that couple at the bar. His ribs ached at the memory.

"Yes. That's the worst part about fucking you!" she screamed at him. "It wasn't the sex. It wasn't that I did it. It was the comparison."

"What?"

"I fucked you because I wanted to remember how things were back in High School. I...I hadn't been happy with Wes. I remembered who you were...who we were then. You....had such...promise. I loved you! I wanted to feel that way again. And now I'm forced to compare that to the man you are today and I hate it! And the worst part...the WORST part is you made me just like you..." she turned and her shoulders shuddered as her arm came up and covered her face.

He closed his eyes tightly for a few moments. Then in dull tones which matched his spirits, he said "I am well aware of your opinion of me. You haven't exactly made it a secret. You are way too drunk to drive and I'm not about to add you getting a DUI or a car accident to my load of guilt. Get in my car."

"Reg..." she knew she'd crossed a line and she raised her hand toward him.

"GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!" She could pick her car up tomorrow. He certainly wasn't going to risk his car here.

It was a silent drive to her house. As he pulled into her driveway, she said softly "I'm sorry...That was inappropriate."

"Yeah, whatever. In Vino Veritas. Say good bye to the kids for me."

"Reg..."

"You're home! You have big grown up responsibilities! Not like me. Maybe if I hurry, I can pick up a couple of drunken skanks before last call. Just...get out..."

Wordlessly, she left.

+

Two weeks. Two weeks of avoiding her phone calls. Two weeks and six sessions with Dr. Fredricks. Two weeks of working long hours and coming home to a new apartment which seemed lifeless. Without the women, it's walls echoed. Without the alcohol, it seemed small. 

He couldn't turn his phone off because of work, and that contributed to his depression. It would ring and he'd have to look at the display and see her number, just to hit 'Ignore'. Initially, it was two calls a day. Thank God he had a phone which allowed him to delete messages without listening to them. He already knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to apologize. But that didn't mean anything. She said what she felt. She just felt bad that she'd said it to him and he was mad enough and hurt enough to want to deny her the catharsis of apology. He had to own his bad actions. She got to own hers too.

And yet in the dark of night, he knew he could solve that problem by just changing his phone number. He didn't...couldn't take that step. It meant his entire prior life was over. Done.

Self loathing was a serious problem. Thank god for video games to fill the silences.

A couple times, he almost went to the bank and cancelled the direct deposit into her utilities. Why should she accept money or help from a low life scumbag? Dirty money. But...but the kids. He HAD hurt her. He HAD made a run at her and her whole family was suffering. He was mad...no, FURIOUS at her...but he choose to not let that run over into the kids. The doctor had been quite clear. HE was responsible for how he reacted to people. She had hurt his feelings...and the saddest part was a lot of it was true. The kids had even less control over their lives then Beth and he did. He wouldn't take it out on them. Besides, without the booze or the dating, what did he have to spend the money on?

One day when he came back from the gym, his rituals the only thing in place to keep him sane, he spied the envelope that Mr. Turner had given him. He COULD fix something in her life. He owed Beth a way to fix part of her predicament...and there was someone who owed April and Jimmy quite a bit. It took one call to her attorney and an address and Reg solved Beth's money problems...at least potentially.

Repressed memories of days long ago surfaced and he woke several times shivering in his bed.

At the end of week two, a text came that he couldn't ignore. '911 Please Call'. It was Jim's number.

+

Reg returned the call. "Hello Jim." He said dully.

"Reg." There was a pause. "Look...we got ourselves a bit of a situation here." In the background, he heard Phil's voice shouting. "Is she there? Is she with him?"

"What's going on Jim?"

"Reg...ignore that. Um...this is just a courtesy call. See...Kelly ran away from home a couple of days ago....and..."

"And you thought she might be with me?" Rage started to fill his voice.

"No! NO! Not seriously. But we're calling everyone we can think of and we'd appreciate it if you'd keep an eye out for her. You know...maybe if she snuck into a club or something..." Jim trailed off.

"Yeah. Good old Reg is sure to see her. I'm not going to clubs anymore." The words of the Doctor came back to him. HE chose how he'd react to what other people did. He thought about the situation for a few silent moments. "Look...I'm coming right over. You at his house?"

"What? Yes.  Um...just a head's up.. Wendy's not exactly...um, she's really upset and...well, Sally and Beth are here to make calls, drive around and offer moral support and well... I know things are a bit..." Jim paused.

"Tense? Yeah. But I'm a big boy. I can handle it." Reg hung up.

+

There were a number of cars in the driveway, so he was forced to park his Mustang in the street. He didn't have a chance to knock because Jim opened the door while he was still on the walkway.

"Thanks for coming. I know it will mean a lot to them. Phil's just...lashing out, so if he says something, just cut him some slack. He's taking a break from running around in his car looking for her."

"No problem."

He walked into the room where Phil was pacing and muttering. Not giving him a chance to say anything, Reg slapped a set of keys, his phone and his wallet in the lawyer's hands. "Here. Those are the spare keys to my apartment. Those are my credit cards. This is my last month's phone record. You have my call log on the phone. You can check to see if anyone is there or if I rented a room recently." Reg said forthrightly.

Phil had enough self possession to look abashed. "No...no, I don't need to do that. I...thanks for coming over. But what I really need is if you can drive around town and look for her. For the love of God, she's only 16."

"Do you mind if I take a look in her room?"

"What? Whaddya want to look in her room for?"

"Just humor me."

The room was in that transition phase from little girl to full-fledged teenager. Or was it? There were the mandatory stuffed animals which were strangely lying on the floor next to the built in bench alcove under the bay window. A zebra striped box stood next to the bench in the alcove. The box was very dusty. Reg lifted the cushion of the window bench. As suspected, there was a door which lead to a dusty area with a shadow in the dust the same size as the zebra box. Something she hid from her parents. Drugs? Clothes?

A lacy dust ruffle was around the base of the bed, while a few posters hung on the wall; art prints and some silly boy band. A pine book shelf stood next to a sturdy pine student desk. On the desk was a Bible and an envelope sitting on top of the detritus that normally covered a kid's desk. He looked inside of the envelope. Empty. There was a gap in the pages of the Bible where something had been left inside for a long time leaving a square outline on the pages. Reg picked up the envelope and put it into the Bible imprint. A perfect fit.

Looking at the book shelf, there was a gap in the lowest shelf, just the right size for the Bible. "Is she religious?" He asked Phil, who watched him. Reg looked behind the desk to see an empty socket in the outlet. The other had an adaptor which held a half a dozen other plugs to her stereo, her desk light, and other various electronics.

"What? We go to Church, but no. Not that much."

Reg examined the Bible. Dust free. Checking the books on the lowest shelf, the rest of them were dusty. He ran his hand over the spines of the rest of the shelf, browsing, and grabbed last year's Yearbook. Idly, he started flipping pages until he found the picture he wanted. He closed it and put it back.

Without another word, he walked out of the house and got into his car and left.

+

Wes tossed his Audi keys into the air and caught them as he ran down the steps of his new apartment. He was running late and figured he'd go for dinner at Mitchell's and maybe pub crawl up the Short North, trolling for a date, so he wasn't looking where he was going and he almost ran into the blonde. He stopped short and used the fact he was running downstairs to check out her cleavage. 

She looked at him and broke into a huge smile "HI!" she with unbridled enthusiasm which warmed him to his toes. "Are you by chance Wesley Moran?" 

His own face broke into a 'aw shucks' grin which he thought was charming. "Do I know you?"

"A friend of mine mentioned Wes Moran and they told me to look him up." She popped her gum.  Inwardly he winced at her disgusting habit, but it set his mind to thinking of the other things she could do with her tongue. If she was a gum chewer, no doubt her tongue was well exercised. "Guilty. I guess you found me...I don't suppose you got some handcuffs..." he tried.

"No handcuffs. Here...you've been served." She shoved a manila envelope into his hands turned and he had a good view of her rotating rear end as she sashayed back to her car.

The envelope contained a copy of an order of income withholding for alimony and child support served on his employer, and a writ of execution ordering him to pay $120,000 in retirement, savings account, and other assorted assets which he had stripped from their joint bank accounts.




Reconciliation



Author's Note: This story takes place after "Blue", but the two are stand-alone, and do not necessarily have to be read in order.

*****

"So, I hear that you won't be alone on the ship any longer?"

"I'm sorry?"

Lt. Ral Tynoc looked up from his PADD to see who it was that had just sat down at his table in the officer's lounge. It was the Tellarite woman, Lugmilla. She had something of a reputation for being difficult, although, to be fair, so did most of her race. But, since she was a pilot, he had not had much cause to deal with her since coming on board and working in the planetary sciences lab.

"You're working on the recovery plan for Capritis II, right?"

"Yes, which is what I'm working on at the minute," he told her, somewhat grumpily, "can't this wait?"

True, he was in the lounge, and supposedly off-duty, but he had just been informed of an issue relating to the very plan that she had just mentioned, and which he had been put in charge of. Apparently, his team was going to be saddled with a civilian scientist, something that he felt they really didn't need. He was trying to compose a reply to the ship's Chief Science Officer that would let him reject the offer without looking bad.

"Probably," Lugmilla replied, before charging on regardless, "but has anyone told you about this civilian you'll be working with?"

How did she know about that? He'd only just found out himself! Under the circumstances, though, the details weren't his top priority at the moment. So, instead of asking he just gave a noncommittal reply. 

"Yes..." he said, "well, sort of... they didn't give me any details."

"So," said Lugmilla, leaning forward with a slight grin on her porcine features, "you didn't know she was Bajoran?"

"Oh." He sat up, paying attention for the first time, and putting his PADD down. That put a different complexion on matters. "I didn't even know she was a 'she'."

"Privileges of being on the bridge from time to time: I saw her file when the Captain was discussing it with your chief. About your age... might be pretty, although, honestly, I can never tell. But, anyway, the point is, you will no longer be the only Bajoran on the USS Endeavour."

She had a point. There were, of course, very few Bajorans in Starfleet, and he had not had the chance to talk to any in a very long time. If the Bajoran government ever got its act together and formally joined the Federation, it might be a different matter, but who knew how long that would take? He smiled, and pressed the 'delete' icon the PADD screen. No need for that letter now.

"Yes... thanks for telling me."

"My pleasure. I'm sure the fact that she's a woman can't hurt, because it must have been a while for you, right?"

"Since I have had the chance to exchange news of the homeworld? Yes. If you're referring to anything else, I believe we will have work to do."

"Of course; I meant that you can have proper discussions about the role of abstinence in the spirituality of the Prophets' message. Obviously. Because," she raised her hands in mock surrender, "what else would you do?"

--***--

"Good morning. You seem to be in a rather better mood than I was expecting."

"Why wouldn't I be, Ledzia?" asked Tynoc, as she joined him walking down the corridor to the transporter room.

"Well, you didn't seem very happy about the addition of a civilian to our team," replied the tall Trill woman, "when it was first mentioned, I mean."

"Perhaps, but I've changed my mind. We're Starfleet, and we're science officers at that, not the military. It can't hurt to have a bit of help, get a bit of perspective. I've come to the conclusion that this could be quite good."

The junior lieutenant nodded, apparently happy with his answer. He had to admit there was a bit of a spring in his step this morning. Officially, he still wasn't supposed to know that their temporary colleague was a fellow Bajoran... perhaps the Chief Science Officer had something else on her mind, and hadn't thought to mention it. So, in turn, it was best not to tell Ledzia, and let her draw her own conclusions. She would find out soon enough.

They stepped into the transporter room, where a Saurian officer was ready and waiting. He had evidently already been in communication with the ground, because as soon as he saw them, he nodded, spoke into the comm, and activated the transporter.

The familiar buzzing whine sounded as a column of light materialised on the pad to reveal their guest. Tynoc's eyes went wide and he felt an instinctive clutch of fear in his chest, finding himself frozen to the spot, speechless with the sudden shock.

After a few seconds in which neither of them said anything, Ledzia stepped forward and welcomed the newcomer herself.

"Thank you," said the civilian, in a stiff voice betraying not a hint of warmth or sincerity, her eyes fixed on Tynoc, not the Trill, "my name is Debem." 

She wasn't a Bajoran; she was Cardassian.

--***--

"She is not Bajoran!" he hissed into the communicator, as soon as he'd managed to contact Lugmilla, leaving Debem with Ledzia, just of earshot.

"Yes she is," came the Tellarite woman's response.

"No, she is not! I think I would know!"

"She was born on the planet Bajor. That's what the adjective 'Bajoran' means, right?"

"She... she..." he spluttered, trying to get himself back under control.

"I don't recall you asking about her species. Was there anything else?"

"No," he managed, "we'll speak about this later."

He could hardly refuse to work with the woman now. No wonder nobody had told him anything about her before she arrived. But... a Cardassian? They had paired a Cardassian with the only Bajoran on the entire ship? He sensed the Captain's cold logic in this. This woman was, presumably, an expert with skills and knowledge relevant to his project. That there might be personal issues would not figure into the Captain's calculations.

Of course, the Captain expected everyone to do their best, and uphold the principles of the Federation. As a Starfleet officer under her command, he had no choice but to try and meet those expectations. He would be courteous, of course he would. He had made the choice not to work for the Bajoran government, but to help bring peace on a wider scale. It was a bit late to start making exceptions now.

But still; a Cardassian. He had been brought up during the Occupation, and the grey-skinned aliens filled him with an almost instinctive dread and loathing. He knew of their pitiless efficiency, their callous disregard for the lives of others. Even their very faces looked cruel, an image of evil now surely etched into the heart of every true Bajoran.

And, by the Prophets, she had even been born on his world. During the Occupation, evidently, although she would have been too young to have done much herself. But who had her parents been? Soldiers, prison guards... scientists experimenting on his people to determine the limits of their endurance? It didn't bear thinking about.

Recovering himself as best he could, he returned to the two women, and led them through to where the rest of his team were waiting. Best get on with this, and try to put the rest of it away.

"These are the people we will be working with," he told her, indicating the other science officers standing around the table, and studiously not looking in her direction. "Ledzia and I you have already met. This is junior Lieutenant Max Dorner, meteorologist, Ensign Svetlana Nemecek, physicist, and Ensign T'Sel, botanist."

If any of the others had a reaction to working with a Cardassian, they didn't show it. Of course, for all that Cardassia and the Federation had had their disagreements, none of them had experienced the deeds of that race up close, and knew what they capable of on a personal level. Tynoc had to forcibly remind himself that Debem herself had not been responsible for any of that. The Captain had to have a good reason for assigning her here, and there was no reason he shouldn't be able to work with her, discomfort or not.

But that didn't mean that he had to like it.

"Well, we all know why we're here," he began. "Capritis II. A former colony world, abandoned following a Gorn attack. The Gorn are long gone from this area of space, and there are moves to repopulate the planet. Unfortunately, they left quite a lot of damage to the ecosystem behind. Our job is to make an assessment about how, or if, the Federation should move forward on this."

"We'll know more when we get there, but for the moment, we have plenty of remote data on conditions, so let's start working on that, and put a preliminary report together. Max, I'd like you and Svetlana to look at the physical data on the atmosphere and stellar environment. Ledzia, T'Sel and I will assess the infrastructure and the possibilities of restoring an agricultural base. All the data has been sent to your PADDs, so let's get to it."

"What should I be doing?"

He glanced across at the Cardassian, as she asked the question, meeting only cold dark eyes. Right, yes, she had to be here to do something.

"I am afraid that the data I was sent on you was surprisingly... incomplete," he said wryly, "what is your speciality?"

"Chemical warfare." 

There was silence, as the junior officers in the room all turned to look at Tynoc. Apparently interpreting his own stunned look as confusion, the Cardassian clarified her own initial statement.

"Dealing with the after-effects of it," she said, "removing deliberately engineered pollutants from the soil and habitable environment."

"Right."

"It does not seem irrelevant to Capritis." 

She was stiff, almost glaring at him, daring him to side-line her. Fortunately, Max came to his rescue.

"You know, that would sound helpful to our end of things," said the human meteorologist, "with the chemistry, and so on. I think we could use her expertise, if that's all right."

"Yes, of course. Good idea." He was just glad that the woman would be out of his own way. If Max was happy to do that, so be it. "See what you can do."

The work seemed to go well after that, all of them getting down to analysing the data, making suggestions and tapping away at their PADDs as they built up their approach. He had assembled a good team, for all that most of them were younger than he was. 

To be honest, with Ledzia and T'Sel working together, all he really needed to do was take a supervisory role; between them they could easily handle all the number-crunching. You sometimes had to be careful who you paired T'Sel with; the young Vulcan was stunningly attractive, and while she might have been oblivious to that fact, it sometimes distracted her male colleagues. Tynoc wondered how many young ensigns on the Endeavour had had fevered dreams beginning with the phrase 'it is the time for the Pon Farr'. Not that those were ever likely to be fulfilled - Starfleet knew how to avoid that sort of thing.

Tynoc was not one for such fantasies, however, and found his eyes instead straying to an entirely different, and much less welcome, distraction. Max seemed to be getting on professionally with her, taking her race entirely in his stride. Svetlana... well, you couldn't tell. The petite mousy Czech woman always threw herself into whatever she did, her face a near-constant mask of serious concentration. If it wasn't for the fact that he had seen her smile once or twice, he might have wondered if the human should have been born a Vulcan instead.

But it was, of course, to Debem herself that he found himself continually drawn. She was probably about his own age, dressed in a conservative pant-suit made of some light brown tweed-like material. He had seen few female Cardassians in real life, or, indeed, civilians in general, but she looked, to his mind, no less severe than the soldiers he remembered from his childhood.

It was, most likely, the dead grey skin, with only a bare hint of normal flesh tone, and the scaled ridges across her face, that did it. Her eyes were deep set, behind those looping ridges, chin and nose sharp, somehow reminding him of a predatory bird. Her jet black hair was pulled back, plaited into two pigtails that did nothing to soften her looks. Harsh scales lined flanges of taut-looking skin either side of her neck, stretching down to narrow shoulders and a skinny body with few of the normal curves. 

The only dash of colour was a splash of blue on the strange teardrop shape in the middle of her forehead. He wondered if that was makeup of some kind, or a natural feature of the female of the species, but even her lipstick was a dull greyish brown, hardly contrasting with her skin.

She was not, he had to admit, the nightmare of his childhood. Gone, at least, was the black armour and the intimidating frame that he recalled. But yet, that look, the almost demonic visage, was not one he could easily escape, and he had to struggle to restrain his natural prejudice. He was a Starfleet officer, he should know better. Surely the Captain and the Security Chief had both checked her out. 

But knowing that somehow didn't make it any easier.

--***--

He felt unusually relieved when the shift ended, and he was able to call an end to work for the day. For the most part, he'd managed to avoid talking to Debem, and kept it curt and to the point when he had had to do so. For her part, the Cardassian woman seemed wary of him, which he supposed he couldn't blame her for, and he had begun to sense a distinct chill among the group as the day wore on.

It was, he had to admit, partly his fault. With the possible exception of T'Sel, everyone had to be aware of the tension he was under and his difficulty in working with their civilian guest. But he had been close yesterday to avoiding the whole thing, and there was only one person he could blame for preventing that from happening.

He took a look around the Endeavour's main lounge as he entered. The person he wanted was there, and, perhaps just as importantly, the woman he was trying to avoid wasn't. He had to work with her; he didn't want to have to socialise with her as well.

Lugmilla, as it happened, was sitting with Max and a couple of other officers at a table close to one of the big windows, looking out over an endless field of stars. They were chatting about something as he came in, but as soon as he started to walk over towards them, he saw one of the others - an Andorian woman named Sh'ree, who worked in the biology section - make a shushing gesture, and they all suddenly fell silent.

She probably thought he hadn't seen that, and he didn't want to make it obvious that he had. Had they been talking about him? He couldn't believe that Max would have been making fun of him, but that didn't mean he hadn't been the main topic of conversation.

"Uh, hello, sir," said Max, retreating into formality, "we... uh..."

"Actually, it's not you I wanted to speak to." The human looked relieved, and he noticed Sh'ree putting her hand on his, squeezing it in a gesture that looked surprisingly intimate. When had that started? Well, it wasn't his concern. "If I could take a minute of your time?" he said instead to Lugmilla.

"Of course," said the Tellarite, with a half-smile, before turning to the others, "be back in a moment." They walked to a quieter spot, near one of the ornamental plants that dotted the room. "What can I do for you, Lt. Ral?" she asked, not managing to sound even the tiniest bit innocent.

"You know perfectly well! What have I ever done to you?" The Tellarite had a mean streak if you crossed her, but, to the best of his knowledge, he had never done so. They hadn't even crossed paths very often.

"Oh, I don't know..." she said drawing it out, "but I'm just helpful that way." He was about to give her a piece of his mind when she interrupted him by adding, "Saving your back, and all that."

That stunned him. "What?" was all he could think of to say.

"Yesterday, you were about to refuse the offer of civilian assistance. Right?"

"Well, yes, and you..."

"Talked you out of it. Yes. Look, I don't get to hear what the senior officers discuss in the ready room, but I get some idea of what's going on. Take it from me that refusing to accept that particular offer would have made your chief look bad. And upsetting the Chief Science Officer of one of the largest science vessels in Starfleet? Not a good career move, I'm thinking."

She stabbed a stubby finger at him, "why do you think they didn't tell you this woman was a Cardassian? Didn't want to give you an excuse to wriggle out, I should think. Which might have actually make it worse if they thought that you had somehow found out. Which, let's be honest, is probably the conclusion they would have leapt to."

"And, seriously, what's your problem? You're in Starfleet, not the Bajoran militia. We deal with aliens all the time, most of them pretty ugly if you ask me, but we don't brush them off. If the Captain and your chief want to mend bridges with the Cardassians, suck it up. It's not like she was in the Obsidian Order or something."

She straightened her uniform, looking up at him meaningfully, somehow making him feel small even though she was about fifteen centimetres shorter than him. "Now," she said, "anything else?"

--***--

Tynoc's dreams that night were filled with a harsh, angular face, dark eyes in dead grey skin. He was on Bajor again, the restored world, after the Occupation, beautiful and tranquil architecture all around. But she was always there, wherever he went, staring at him from behind a pillar, sitting on a bench before an abbey, looking out from a bridge over a canal. 

Nobody else seemed to notice a Cardassian in their midst. Whenever he tried to walk away, to turn the other direction, there she was. Silent, almost accusing, intruding into what should have been a peaceful place, thoughts of home and comfort.

Finally he walked up to her, stood face to face, asked her what she wanted, why she was there. She reached out to him, clasping cold grey hands on either side of his head, and then jerking him towards her, so that their foreheads touched.

"You," she said, and kissed him.

He woke with a start, for a moment wondering where he was, something that hadn't happened to him in years. Thank the Prophets that the dream had ended there! He certainly didn't want to look too far into his subconscious over that one, he thought, as he took a cold shower before getting dressed and heading out.

--***--

Svetlana was the first to meet him in the conference room they had commandeered for their work. She was beaming, eager to show him something about the interaction of ultraviolet light with soil contaminants. Had she been working all night? She really was like a Vulcan sometimes. He had better make sure she got some shore leave the next time the opportunity came up, or she'd work herself to death.

But soil contaminants sounded like Debem's speciality, and, however uneasy she made him feel, the Cardassian was here for a reason. This should keep her occupied, give her something to do. Yes, of course, he was helping both of them by telling Svetlana to discuss the matter properly with Debem and Max first. The fact that that meant he could put off having to deal with the civilian directly over the issue was just incidental. Let them sort it out amongst themselves.

T'Sel, at least, didn't appear to have done any extracurricular work, and he was able to continue with her and Ledzia where they had left off the previous evening. The Vulcan woman had probably taken the end of the work shift very literally, but now seemed to switch back to her task as if she had never stopped, fingers flying over the PADD as she ran crop yield projections for a number of different scenarios.

He glanced across to the far end of the room, realising that he had unconsciously sat as far away from the others as he could. Not that there was any point in moving now, of course. Max and Svetlana seemed to be deep in conversation with their 'guest', the three of them talking quite animatedly. It was good to know that Svetlana could get excited about something, even if it was only work, and if Debem was helping, so much the better; it meant that he didn't have to worry about her.




Reconciliation



He threw himself back into his own work, not even realising that he had turned his back on the others.

"Lieutenant Ral?"

Tynoc turned, realising that a couple of hours had passed, and that he hadn't spoken to the Cardassian once this morning. She was standing nearby, clutching her own PADD, her face cold, lips pursed in what seemed to be distaste. What could she possibly find to disapprove of with him? It wasn't his race that had... well, no, he corrected himself, it hadn't been her, either, not personally. But still, her presence kept reminding him of things he would rather forget.

"Yes, what is it?" he replied, more snappily than he meant to.

"We need the data on water supplies and purification for the colony."

"It's all in the database." He looked across at Max, wondering why he had not already dealt with the obvious. But he was currently talking to Svetlana and not looking towards their end of the room.

"The historical data, yes. But we need some idea of the plans for restoration to make predictions about..."

"We can deal with that at the end of day briefing!" Was she trying to accuse him of shirking? That was rich, coming from a race of slave drivers!

Ledzia looked up, the dark-skinned Trill's eyebrows raised in surprise at his tone. She said nothing, of course, but perhaps Debem had a point. "Yes, all right," he conceded, "I'll send what we have to your PADD."

"It's a Cardassian PADD," she said stiffly, "I'll need your ID before I can interface it with yours."

He almost said something rude to her then, but stopped himself when he realised that he should really have done this the day before when they set up. The two humans had presumably already done so, after all. 

"Give it here," he said, instead, almost snatching it off her, and, after a brief moment of confusion at the unusual screen layout and alien lettering, found that she had already opened the relevant box for him. 

He tapped in his ID, and handed it back to her. For a moment, their fingers touched. Debem's were warm and soft, as fleshly as any Bajoran's, not the cold scaly feel he had somehow conjured in his mind. He flushed for a moment at the thought, suddenly embarrassed and unsure of himself. He didn't know if she noticed.

"That should help," he said, with what he hoped was a softer voice. She was starting to get to him, and he wasn't responding in the right way.

"Thank you," she said, her voice conveying no trace of emotion, just a simple formality. Then she headed back to the others.

She managed to stay out of his way for the rest of the day, for which Tynoc was grateful. She confused him, if he was honest with himself. She had not done anything that would have raised his ire had she been anyone else, except to simply be in the way. Yet somehow, she was bringing out all of his worst qualities, dredging up memories simply by her presence.

Of course, he hadn't wanted a civilian interfering with their work in the first place. They didn't need her; they didn't need anyone. So surely that was it? He disliked her because she was here where she shouldn't be - it was nothing to do with her race, after all. 

So why did those sharp, grey features keep intruding on his mind? Why couldn't he get her out of his thoughts? Was it that she represented some sort of connection with home, even if it was one that brought all the wrong associations with it? He had to try and relax tonight, do something to put himself back in control. If nothing else, if he carried on like this, he wasn't going to look good to the Chief Science Officer. This was no way to build a team.

But, before he could get out of the room and have a stiff drink, he had to get through the end of day briefing that he had promised.

--***--

They didn't serve springwine in the Endeavour's bar. It was hardly surprising, since he was the only Bajoran on board, and it wouldn't have been the real thing anyway. So instead, after glancing around to check the object of his discomfort hadn't chosen the same venue to relax for the evening, he ordered a Terran brandy. 

Of course, that wasn't real, either - it came out of the replicators, and had synthehol in it, so you couldn't really get intoxicated. That was a good thing, both from a career point of view and from the perspective of somebody raised in a religious culture that praised moderation. But there were times when even the fake kick of synthehol was just what you needed.

He leaned back in one of the padded seats, and washed the fiery liquid down, sighing and closing his eyes, rubbing the ridges on the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. It was not long, however, before he was interrupted.

"Tough day?"

He looked up to see Ledzia, fresh from the bar with a drink of... actually, he had no idea what it was, apart from the fact that it was yellow. He waved for her to sit opposite him, and she did so, a serious expression on her face.

"Permission to speak freely?" she asked.

"Always," he said, slightly surprised. She wasn't normally this formal.

"I can see that you've found it difficult, working with Debem."

"Nothing I can't handle. It just brings back memories sometimes."

"With respect, I'm not sure that you are handling it. Everyone has noticed, but none of the others are going to say anything. And when I say everyone, I am including T'Sel in that."

He sat up straighter, suddenly concerned. "T'Sel? She said something to you?"

"No, but when you turned on Debem in that final briefing, you may not have noticed, but she raised an eyebrow. For a Vulcan, that's like her jaw dropping to the floor. For the rest of us... it was uncomfortable. Look, Tynoc, I'm saying this as a friend - you've got to get this worked out. It's affecting the project, and that's going to look bad for all of us, but it's mostly going to look bad for you."

"Yes, but she..."

"Is this really about her? Or about her species?"

He deflated again, and took another shot of the brandy. "No, I guess you're right. She hasn't really done anything wrong. She's actually quite good at her field. It's just... it's not easy to explain if you haven't grown up in that situation. I try to avoid seeming prejudiced, because really I'm not... I don't think..." he paused, and gathered his thoughts again before continuing, "...but because I'm thinking about that all the time, I guess I end up trying to avoid her. Does that make sense?"

"Not really... but you wouldn't be the first person to try too hard. The fact is, you don't notice that I'm a Trill, or Svetlana is a human, you just get on with it. But you're still noticing that she's a Cardassian. It may be hard, but clear your mind of it. Don't dwell on the past; she wasn't even there."

"She was there, on Bajor," he corrected her, "although she was a child at the time. At least I think so; she looks about my age, wouldn't you say? But, look, I don't blame her for anything. I know that she wasn't responsible for the things the Cardassian military did."

"Perhaps you should tell her some of this. Clear the water, as it were?" He frowned. "Trill saying," she waved her hand, "the point is you need to deal with this somehow. You just told me that she's good at her job. Try saying that to her tomorrow."

Ledzia had a point. He had been unnecessarily rude to Debem, had acted as if he resented her presence, when she had done nothing to deserve it. If it was affecting the others, as the Trill woman said it was, he needed to take action before it all became poisonous. 

"You're right," he said, "in fact," he straightened his jacket and knocked back the last of his brandy, "I won't do it tomorrow. I'll do it now." It was about time I acted like an officer, he thought to himself ruefully, but didn't say so out loud. He tapped his communicator, "ship, where is civilian scientist Debem?"

"Debem is in her quarters on Deck 7."

Tynoc realised that he had never seen her about the ship in his off hours. Had she spent all of her time outside of work locked in her cabin? If so, he was starting to feel even guiltier than he had before. He should have at least offered to show her round the Endeavour.

Well, there was no time like the present.

"Good luck," said Ledzia, as he got up to leave.

Yeah... he was going to need it, after the way he'd been acting.

--***--

He pressed the buzzer outside the room that the Cardassian scientist had been assigned. "Hello," he said, "Debem? It's Lt. Ral."

"Yes?" came the voice over the intercom, sounding a little uncertain.

"I've come to... look, do you mind if I come in?"

There was a long pause, but eventually the door slid open, and he was able to step inside.

The first thing he noticed was the heat. She had evidently turned the thermostat up, and adjusted the humidity, too. He remembered that Cardassia was often described as a 'tropical' planet, and, while it presumably had as wide a range of climates as any other Class M world, that probably meant that the most densely settled parts of the planet were much warmer than those on Bajor. It wasn't, he had to admit, entirely uncomfortable, but the difference from the corridor was noticeable, and he'd be visibly sweating before long.

The second thing he noticed, as the door slid shut behind him, was that Debem had changed her clothing, perhaps for comfort in the warmer room. Instead of the grey chequered pantsuit she had been wearing earlier, she was now in a short-sleeved dress made of soft green fabric, the neckline squared off to show the flaring scaled cords running down to her shoulder. The skirt came down to just above her knees, and Tynoc was surprised that one of his first thoughts was that, grey skin aside, her bare calves were slender and attractive.

He had best get his thoughts away from that, he realised, gaze flicking back to her dark eyes in their deep set, ridged orbits. She looked at him silently, her arms crossed and her angular face impassive.

"Thank you," he said, after an awkward silence. "I wanted to say... sorry for earlier today. I was out of line, and your suggestion about the purification system was a good one. We should work more on it tomorrow." She still said nothing, although at least the set of her jaw relaxed a bit. "I realise that we got off on the wrong footing," he said, "and I haven't been the best host. I wanted to make it up to you. Have you seen around the ship yet?"

There was a pause before she finally replied. "I was about to eat."

He glanced behind her, and saw that the small table had a plate and cutlery laid out on it. So that probably wasn't just an excuse, then.

"I could join you," he offered.

"It's a Cardassian meal. Sem'hal stew with yamok sauce."

So she'd programmed the replicator herself, then, he realised. Perhaps she had brought the recipe with her on a chip. "Sure," he said, wondering what in the Prophets' name he was letting himself in for, "why not?"

"You don't mind?" she seemed genuinely surprised.

"I'm on a ship full of aliens. New food comes with the territory. If I can eat in the same room as someone with a Bolian soufflé, I'm sure that stew won't be a problem."

Her mouth twitched, putting a hint of a smile on her lips, if only for a second. Then she nodded, unfolded her arms, and walked over to the replicator, tapping a few buttons. Unconsciously, Tynoc's gaze slipped down again, admiring her legs and the shape of her backside as she leant over. 

He was going to have to stop thinking like that.

They ate in silence at first. Tynoc found the stew rather pleasant, not at all the strange alien dish he might have feared. In fact, he seemed to recall a human recipe that was very similar, although he could not remember the name of it now. Yamok sauce was also far from its reputation, with a distinctive tart flavour not quite like anything else he had tried. It would go well, he suspected, with a number of different vegetables, although he had to question its use with this particular meal... the flavours seemed to clash, both fine on their own, but not quite working together.

Perhaps Cardassians liked it like that. Either way, he wasn't going to mention it, so instead he tried a different tack.

"Why did you choose to become a scientist?" he asked, breaking what he felt was becoming an increasingly uncomfortable silence.

Dark, deep-set eyes flicked towards him, judging him for a second as Debem swallowed a mouthful, and considered her reply.

"Lots of reasons," she said, eventually, "it's complicated."

"I'd be interested to hear."

She considered that too, watching him as he took another piece of stew, then looked at her expectantly. He thought he saw the faint hint of a smile on her lips, a slight softening of her harsh grey features, but it was gone in instant, and so slight that he wondered if he had imagined it.

"Well, it's considered a good career for women on Cardassia. In fact, it's regarded as rather..." she paused, watching him again, "...effeminate."

She didn't say it harshly, as a criticism. In fact... was she actually teasing him? Did she actually have a sense of humour?

"Cultures are different across the galaxy," he said, taking it in his stride.

"Yet your team is mostly comprised of women."

"True," he allowed, permitting himself a small smile. She did have him there. "But we do have Max," he added.

"Your point?"

By the Prophets! That was an actual smile. She had really just smiled at him! 

"Max does have a girlfriend, you know," he said, remembering the looks the human had been exchanging with Sh'ree the previous evening. "And what about me?"

She leaned back on the padded couch she was sitting on, sweeping her eyes over him. It made him feel strange, as if he was being evaluated... which, perhaps, he was. Her expression was clinically detached, a sign of that famed Cardassian efficiency and attention to detail. But then, she leaned forward again, her face relaxing into a slight smile again.

She was actually quite pretty when she did that.

"No," she said, "I don't think you're effeminate at all." 

Her eyes dropped suddenly, and she returned to her meal with gusto. It was almost as if she was blushing, although there was no change in the shade of her dead grey skin, so perhaps he was just imagining it. Or Cardassians didn't blush like Bajorans did... who knew?

"You were saying," he went on, changing the subject, "about why you became a scientist?"

"Oh, yes. Well, when I was young, back on..." 

She broke off suddenly, stiffening, her eyes going wide. (Was he really watching her eyes that much? Apparently.)

"Back on Bajor," he said quietly, "I know where you were born. Don't worry about it."

"Yes," she said, her own voice initially quiet, too, but picking up as she regained her confidence, "back on Bajor, my father was a military engineer, and my mother was a nurse. So I wasn't exactly born into a science background, but there was always material of that kind around... engineering, medical... more than in many families, I suppose. I was encouraged, certainly."

"But there's also..." she paused, cleaning a plate that Tynoc noticed was all but empty now. "You know, Bajor is quite a pretty planet. A little cold for my taste, though, at least where I was. Telassa... do you know it?"

"I know of it," he admitted, "never been there, though." He did his best to finish off his own meal, not wanting to seem unwilling to do so.

Telassa... yes, that was on one of the southern continents, well outside of the tropics. It was hardly one of the coldest places on the planet that would have been worth garrisoning, but it was sufficiently so that it would have snowed every winter. Which, judging by the tropical heat that she seemed to prefer, probably felt quite cold to Debem.

"Anyway, the point is, I never saw as much of Bajor as I would have liked. My sister and I grew up in the compound. We weren't often let out, and certainly not on our own - it wasn't safe. What I saw left me with fond memories... childhood does that I suppose. But I felt a little constrained, you know?"

"And then, we went back to Cardassia. And," she shook her head, "it was like the compound, only bigger. Better weather, but otherwise... well, it inspired me to go out and see the universe when I had the chance. So here I am."

Debem leaned back again, pushing her plate away, taking a sip from some of the red, slightly syntheholic drink that she had chosen to accompany it. "But what about you?" she asked.

"Why am I with Starfleet, rather than some Bajoran scientific institute or university?" He was feeling more relaxed himself, pleased that he had got her to open up, and hoped that he had mended the ill-feeling that he had allowed to develop between the two of them over the last couple of days. With any luck, things should be more productive from now on.

"I've always enjoyed physical activities as much as academic ones, so exploration on the frontier was always interesting. Bajor is not a member of the Federation, but Starfleet has done more for us than I think many of my people realise. They helped end the Occupation, and then afterwards, they did a lot to help us with the devastation that..."

Debem stiffened, pulling herself upright as she firmly placed her cup back on the table, dark eyes flashing. Damn it! He had actually forgotten for a moment who he was talking, and had become too relaxed.

"Look," he said quickly, "I'm not saying that you had anything to do with that. I don't hold you responsible for your past government or the actions of the military."

"But we ransacked your planet. Killed your people, poisoned your ground. You blame people like my father, the military engineer. You blame them for what they did to Bajor, and I make you uncomfortable because of it, don't I?"

"No, it's not that..." But, of course, it was that. That was exactly the problem, even if, as a Starfleet officer, he knew that it shouldn't be.

"Why do you think I specialised in helping planets recover from chemical warfare?"

Oh. He actually hadn't thought of that.

"Do you think that my people didn't suffer, too?"

Tynoc almost did a double-take at that. She thought that the Cardassians had suffered because of the Occupation? That made absolutely no sense at all! So she hadn't been able to go out and play in the streets as a child? It was hardly the same thing as having your family massacred or your village pounded to rubble.

He groped for a response to the absurd accusation, angry at the fact that she was trying to turn things against him. 

"To be honest," he snapped eventually, unable to think of anything better to say, "not like we did, no."

"Really?" She glared at him.

"My father died in a forced labour camp. The last time I saw him was when soldiers took him away. I don't even know where his grave is. Do you still get to see your parents?"

"No," she shot back, dark eyes flashing with a hint of anger, "because they're both dead."

He didn't have a response to that. She was glaring at him across the table, hands clenched, the harsh scaled lines on her face making the set of her jaw all the sharper. He stared at her, supposing she must have been the victim of some Resistance attack, blaming people that had only been defending their world from alien invaders. But he let her keep speaking.

"My parents," she said, her voice breaking a little, before she slumped, the fight gone out of her, "my sister. Her husband, their five-month old baby, who I never even saw in the flesh. My fiancé." Her lip quivered, and he saw dampness in her eyes. "The Jem'Hadar bombarded our city from orbit when Cardassia rebelled against the Dominion. Every relative I'd ever known died in that conflagration, and most of my childhood friends."

"They all died. As did 800 million others. For the sins of our government."




Reconciliation



"I'm sorry..." he said, "I didn't know."

Instinctively, he got up moved round the table to sit beside her on the couch. Debem's lip was quivering, as she struggled to hold back tears. Without even realising what he was doing, he put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a comforting squeeze.

The Jem'Hadar. He hadn't even thought about them.

"I know that what we did to your people was wrong," she was saying, "but we were as much victims of Central Command as you were. We didn't vote to invade Bajor, and we didn't vote to join the Dominion. But we still died because of it. 800 million of us."

"I know. I'm sorry," he said, hugging her, forgetting for the moment who they both were, seeking only to comfort another sentient being in distress. "We've both lost people. I understand that now."

She turned her face towards him, and he saw that her dark eyes were moist with tears she was doing her best not to shed. She sniffed, trying her best to regain her composure, but not moving from the comfort of his arms.

"I didn't mean to blame you. Working together has been difficult. I'd like that to be behind us now."

She was so close to him now, faces nearly touching, his eyes staring into hers. In that moment of sharing, he finally understood.

He had avoided her, and been rude to her, not just because of what she represented, but because he had felt conflicted. Here was a woman who should have been everything he hated, who visibly reminded him of the cruel faces of the Cardassian soldiers taking his father away. And yet, not only was she was here to help him, but, by the Prophets, she was attractive.

He had done everything he could not to let anyone - himself included - know how damnably attracted to her he was. How he both wanted to get parsecs away from her and the memories she dredged up, and, at the same time, wanted to ravish and possess her.

Unthinking, he pressed his lips to hers.

Debem gasped, her body stiffening as she suddenly pulled back, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.

"I..." he began, flushing furiously as he pulled himself away from her, horrified with himself for what he'd just done.

"Oh, shut up!" snapped the Cardassian woman, lips curling into a near snarl.

Then, with a growl of pure lust, she threw herself at him, pushing him back on the couch, grabbing his head in both hands and planting the most passionate kiss he had ever experienced on his mouth.

Tynoc was momentarily overcome with surprise, allowing himself to fall onto his back, Debem on top of him. But it was only for a moment, and then he responded in kind, kissing her, lips and tongues entwined, one arm wrapped around her slender back, one foot on the floor to balance himself. 

It seemed an eternity later that they broke apart, panting for breath, and he gazed up into her eyes, with irises so dark it was hard to tell where they ended and her widening pupils began. Then he pulled her head back to his, fingers stroking her tightly bound hair, and they kissed again.

Ral Tynoc was, like most Bajorans, a religious individual, and he had always been taught to restrain, although not entirely to repress, his more physical desires. In this moment, he had forgotten entirely about that, consumed by an overwhelming lust that would have horrified most of his teachers. If his actions had not already told Debem that, they were pressed so close, hips grinding into one another through their clothing, she could hardly have failed to notice the almost instantaneous effect that her actions had had upon him.

As they writhed upon the couch, their hands were far from idle. Tynoc felt the Cardassian caressing his flanks, her left hand pulling his uniform vest away from his trousers, then slipping up underneath, towards his chest. He felt her fingernails running along his skin, before she trapped his right nipple between thumb and forefinger, giving it a sharp tweak that made him gasp, but did nothing to dampen his ardour.

His own free hand slid down her back, feeling a bony, rather skinny, frame through the fabric, although not so much that she seemed malnourished. He squeezed her ass, digging his fingers firmly in, responding to her own rough ministrations. Then he reached lower, hitching her skirt up almost to her waist, gripping the bare skin of her thighs.

With a light growl at the back of her throat, Debem moved up, shifting her leg forward to allow him better access. As she did so, it tangled briefly with his own, and, a moment later, their passionate movements unbalanced him, and they both crashed off the couch, landing in an undignified heap, he rolling under the table, banging his hip against the central leg.

He scrambled to get free, a difficult task with Debem still clinging to him, locked at the lips, one hand still beneath his shirt. They rolled over twice across the carpeted floor, leaving her on top of him again, skirt hitched up to reveal a flash of black knickers, but her hair still hardly out of place - they must have been really tight braids.

She leaned back on her knees, pulling his vest up to reveal his belly, which her grey fingers began to knead. Tynoc scrambled free, getting to his feet, pulling at the blue-and-black tunic that lay over his vest. He wanted her badly, as he had wanted no one else, and there was no doubt that she reciprocated that desire. 

He made to grab her, planning to sweep the plates from the table, bend Debem over it, and take her from behind with all the urgency that his body could muster. But the Cardassian woman, it seemed, had other ideas. She climbed to her feet, evaded his lunge, and took a few steps back to the door at the far side of the room.

His second lunge reached its target, and he forced her up against the unyielding metal of the door, kissing her again. There had been a zip of some kind along the back of her dress, and he wanted to reach it, but suddenly realised that with her pressed up so close against the door, he could not do so.

Before he could formulate another plan, Debem's hand had found the door control, and it slid open, pitching them both into what was clearly the bedroom. The room was dark, lit only by the starlight from a window, the glittering band of the Galactic disc spread across it, unhindered by the muting and twinkling effect of an atmosphere.

Not that Tynoc noticed that at the time. He simply saw the bed. He had been willing to use the table, the wall, a desk, frankly anything that had come to hand. But if Debem wanted to use the bed, he was not going to argue.

As they caught their balance after pitching into the room, the Bajoran's hand fortuitously found the zipper he sought, and yanked it down. Debem took a few steps backwards, dress loose around her shoulders and the flaring scaled cords of her neck, but not yet entirely free. He looked again into those deep-set eyes, seeing them focussed entirely on him, grabbed her about the waist with both hands, and half threw her onto the bed.

With what he later regarded as a surprising amount of forethought, Tynoc banged the button of the door control that would leave it open. He wanted to be able to see her, and the starlight was not enough. He looked down, seeing the Cardassian woman, sprawled across the bed, legs akimbo, skirt still hitched up, admiring again the slender grey curves of her thighs. He had seen some Cardassians with a pale tan hue to their skin, the greyness only hinted at, but Debem was definitely more towards the darker, colourless end of the spectrum. As he gazed at her, she lifted herself up on her hands, and top of the dress slid off one shoulder, revealing a bra strap still more or less in place.

Almost desperately, Tynoc began to pull his clothes off. His underwear, however, was the traditional Bajoran style, not designed for rapid removal, and, as he grappled with the ties, Debem lost patience, grabbed for him, and pulled him down to the bed on top of her.

They were kissing again, the Cardassian's hands seemingly running over every inch of his upper torso, sliding on the sweat that the warmth of the room was already making him produce. Tynoc abandoned his quest to undo his breeches, and instead focussed on getting Debem out of her dress.

It would definitely have been easier had she not been so determined to grapple and kiss him, but eventually he managed, pulling it down over her legs as she kicked her shoes off. Now his hands could really wander over her body, and he lost no time in doing so, as they rolled on the bed, limbs entwined, overcome with their mutual passion.

At last, with some difficulty, Tynoc reluctantly pulled himself free from her grasp, rolling back onto his knees as the bed creaked in response. Debem gave a cry of frustration, reaching out to pull him back down again, but, this time, he was able to swat her hands away long enough to reach again for the ties on his breeches.

Realising his intent, the Cardassian woman stopped struggling, her eyes flicking down with fascination to what he was doing. Soon, he was out of the constraining garment, his cock swinging free, feeling - although it was probably just his imagination - harder and more swollen than it had ever had before in his life.

Debem let out a little gasp of shock at the sight of it, before looking up to his face with a delighted grin.

He would later discover, and only slightly to his disappointment, that his length had nothing to do with her reaction. Apparently, at 17 cm, he was pretty much exactly the average for a Cardassian, even if somewhat above so for a Bajoran. No, what had surprised her was his girth, which was nothing at all like those of the slender, tapering manhoods of her own species.

At that moment, however, the light in the main room suddenly dimmed, as the automatic system detected that nobody remained within. From Tynoc's perspective, Debem's body was suddenly cast into deeper shadow, his own frame now blocking the fainter light from the doorway. He didn't care, especially when the Cardassian pulled him back down towards her on the bed again.

Her hand reached for his erection, gripping and stroking it as they kissed furiously, lost to desire. Tynoc gripped the hem of her knickers, pulling them down around her knees before again becoming entangled in her arms and legs. With both of them reluctant to let each other go, even for a moment, there was some awkward wrestling as he tried to get them down further, but eventually one of her feet came free, she released his cock, and wrapped one leg around his, thighs apart.

The Bajoran did not waste a second, thrusting himself deep inside the Cardassian woman to her evident delight. He grunted with pleasure, his pent up frustration and passion at last finding a proper outlet. His hips slammed into hers over and over, taking her hard, his groans mingling with her sharp cries as he penetrated her alien body.

Her left hand gripped his shoulder, nails digging in, scratching his flesh as the bed creaked in protest at the force of his exertions. He pulled the hand away, holding her wrist, the arm above her head, as he tried to find an angle to push himself in even deeper. He wanted to possess her, perhaps exorcising the demons of his past by making this Cardassian woman scream, to have her experience the greatest pleasure of her life at the hands of one that her people had so oppressed.

Her free hand, though, ran down his back, and gripped his heaving buttocks even as she adjusted her thighs to his raised position. She slapped him, at first almost playfully, but then with greater force. With a cry, he pulled her hips up off the bed, still not letting up his motion, making it easier to press down into her with the weight of his body.

He could not last much longer, and judging by Debem's cries, neither could she. With a drawn out, deep-throated groan of exertion, Tynoc increased his pace, sweat dribbling down his back as he fucked her hard, over and over, using her every ounce of energy that his body could muster.

The release, when it came, was incredible in its intensity, flooding the alien woman's body with his cum. And the Cardassian did scream, arching her back, clawing at him as she threw her head back and gave voice to her feelings, her body writhing beneath his.

They collapsed, gasping, sucking in deep breaths. It had been a long time since Tynoc had last had sex, and perhaps the same was true of Debem, too. But it had never been like that before, the sheer animal intensity of it beyond anything he had previously experienced. 

They clung to one another for a while afterward, before at last he rolled free and over onto his back. That had been incredible, and something he realised that he had long needed. A catharsis, in a way, made all the more potent by the nature - and evident enthusiasm - of his partner. 

It was a while before he regained his breath, and he knew that the sweat was rolling off him, soaking the sheets beneath his body. It was hot in here, and his recent exertions had only amplified that. They didn't speak - hadn't in fact, spoken almost since he first kissed her - just lying there in contended silence.

After a while, Debem reached over to run a finger down the middle of his chest, slipping in the slick sweat that covered his body. He turned his head towards her, and watched her lying on her side, dark eyes gazing into his. He wondered what thoughts were running through her head, behind those mysterious black orbs, but he didn't want to break the mood by speaking.

Instead, he rolled over to face her properly, eyes still locked onto those of his partner. She began to gently stroke his flank, her fingertips soft and comforting against his skin. He had never slept with anyone that wasn't Bajoran before, and had certainly never thought of Cardassians as attractive, yet here he was, seeing their exotic, alien, looks in quite a different way .

Silently, almost gingerly, he moved his free hand up to her face, and ran his index finger up her cheek, and along the narrow scaled ridge around her deep-set eyes. Debem's expression didn't change, and neither did she stop stroking his own body. 

Feeling emboldened, he traced the scales across her face, noting their difference from the physiognomy of his own people. They were warm to the touch, of course, for so was her body. (Some humans, he had heard, seemed to think that Cardassians were reptiles. He had never understood that, since their hair and the form of their women so clearly indicated otherwise. The scales meant nothing... he'd even heard of an Earth mammal with scales. Armour-dillo or something).

His finger moved to the ridge on the near side of her forehead. The scales were more prominent there, but not harsh in any way, like the calluses he had half expected. Instead, they were smooth, a little like ivory or horn, contrasting with the softer skin around them with its fine, almost invisible, hairs. 

He moved the finger away, running it around the shape of her earlobe. It was slightly different from his own, two ridges lined with tiny scales running from the base towards her jaw. From there, he moved to her jaw, and to her narrowp chin. There were two slight ridges there, but with soft skin, lacking the scales. Debem pressed her lips to the tip of his finger as he moved up, and then changed the position of her own hand to caress his cheek. Did she luxuriate in his lack of scales, the smoothness of his skin, just as he was beginning to appreciate her own differences? It seemed likely.

To her nose now... an odd shape, with a narrow ridge down the centre, also lacking scales until he got to the bridge. It was curved inwards there, as it was on humans, with no horizontal grooves, unless you counted the slight dip between each scale. She had no eyebrows, of course - perhaps Cardassians didn't need them, with their prominent brow ridges.

Further up, to trace the outline of that strange spoon shape on her forehead. A slight smudge of blue makeup came away when he touched the inside... well, that answered that one. But she smiled then, pulled his face in to hers, and they kissed again. This time it was long and lingering, a kiss of gentle affection, not the raging passion of before. Tynoc found that he liked it even better that way, and pulled her body into his, arm wrapped round her back as they tasted one another's mouths.

He stroked the scales along her neck-ridges, much larger and more prominent than those on her face. Debem sighed as he did so, breaking off the kiss, but with eyes still locked on his face. She seemed to like the sensation, so he continued for a little while, before eventually moving lower.

The wide flaring cords of her neck reached almost to the ends of her collar bone, making her actual shoulders more slender than they would be on a Bajoran. The scaled ridges, he noted, split into three at the base, one short and pointed spur running along to just over her shoulder, a second one curving round behind her back, along the inner surface of her shoulder blades.

The third branch led his finger along her clavicle - from what he could tell by external touch alone, her skeletal structure was much the same as his own. The scales here were flatter and more numerous, spreading out to either side, yet still larger over the bone itself. He found a small oval dip where the central line of scales met that from the other side, another line of fine scales emerging from the base to run between her breasts.

Debem was still wearing her bra; such was the immediacy of their passion that he hadn't thought to remove it. He ceased his exploration of her scales to deal with that, taking the opportunity to pull her in for another slow kiss as he unhooked the clasp at the back, then letting her wriggle out of it, and toss it casually to over the side of the bed.

He glanced downwards, and, as he did so, the Cardassian woman shifted a little on the bed, moving up to kiss him on the forehead. Her tongue flicked out, probing the grooves on the bridge of his nose, exploring him as he investigated her own body.

The line of scales ran down along her sternum, but no further. With her skinny frame, he could easily feel each of the ribs beneath her grey skin. (Perhaps there was a skeletal difference there, in the number of them, but he was a scientist, not a doctor, and couldn't remember the number there was supposed to be.) Another scaled ridge ran along her flank, ending a little short of the armpit, but his attention was currently elsewhere.

Debem's breasts were small, flatter than was average for Bajorans, although not unusually so. Tynoc ran his questing finger between them, down the ridge, noting how small scales ran up the inner surfaces. It was only a little way, but enough to make the sensation of stroking her skin there a slightly odd one. He spread his hand out, moving beyond the scales at last, using all of his fingers to stroke the soft pliable flesh of her slight mounds.

The Cardassian woman's nipples were a dark charcoal grey, almost black against the paler shade of the rest of her skin. Her aureoles were tiny, little more than a narrow rim around the base of a decidedly perky teat. She let out another soft sigh as he gently rubbed one between finger and thumb, noting as he did so that it was noticeably longer than those on Bajoran women.

Debem suddenly rolled onto her back, out of his immediate reach, and for a second Tynoc wondered if he'd done something wrong. Who knew where an alien woman's erogenous zones were, after all? His momentary doubt was silenced as she pulled his head down towards her chest. Rather than obliging her immediately, the Bajoran clambered over her body to get better access, his cock fully erect once more.

He massaged both of her breasts with his hands, stroking her long nipples with his thumbs as he watched her reaction. Debem was breathing deeply, mouth slightly parted and dark eyes wide as she followed his every move. Without letting up his motions with his right hand, Tynoc ran his tongue along the lightly scaled skin between her breasts, feeling the alien texture, and then began to kiss her free breast.




Reconciliation



Her flesh tasted slightly salty, despite being far less sweat-covered than his own. It was pleasant, though, and he enjoyed the flat, earthy smell of her body in his nostrils. Eagerly, he pressed his lips against the dark grey nipple and teased the tip with his tongue. Debem sighed as he began to suckle, running one hand through his hair and the other over his back. He liked the unusual length of the nipple in his mouth, the way that it felt as he twirled his tongue around it, but most of all he liked the way that the Cardassian woman whimpered as he did so, arching her back slightly to press herself against him.

Tynoc switched to the other side, but stayed there for less time before moving lower. He rained kisses down her belly, smooth and flat, his hands rubbing the line of scales on her flanks, which elicited much the same response as his previous efforts with her neck-ridges. He kissed her navel, and moved lower still, allowing her to move up a little on the bed to make it easier for him.

The scaled ridges down her side split into two at her hips - her long legs, as he had already seen, looking smooth and Bajoran-like, aside from the grey skin. Still kissing her lower belly, he moved his hands round her back, feeling where one branch of the ridges curved over the upper margin of her buttocks, meeting another that ran down the centre of her back. Like the inner slope of her breasts, the upper part of her buttocks were lightly scaled, rough like fine sandpaper.

Holding Debem's buttocks, he pushed her further up on the bed, and she responded by leaning forward on her elbows. He looked up at her again, at her rapt face, and the rise and fall of her chest, and then turned his attention back to his task.

The second line of scales ran over the top of her hips, and forward, down the slight crease where her legs joined her body. Together, they formed a V-shape, pointing downwards towards an apex where they didn't quite meet. Debem was, he saw, naturally hairless down there, soft and warm beneath his fingers and lips. 

He kissed the inside of each of her soft thighs, then slid his tongue down one of the lines of narrow scales towards the gap between her legs. The Cardassian woman let out a louder groan as Tynoc licked the length of her grey and hairless slit - there were no scales there, he noted - then slid his tongue inside.

Debem gripped his head, holding him in position as her hips began to move involuntarily against his face. She gasped and panted as he pleased her, using his mouth as best he could. He glanced up, and saw her arching her body, throwing her head back, small breasts heaving. Her gasps became sharper and higher in tone as he located her clit, a narrow shape, unexpectedly grooved and a little longer than he had been expecting, but just as responsive to his tongue.

It was a long time before Debem pushed him away from his prize, sat up on the bed, and pulled him up towards her for another kiss on the mouth. Her hands roamed his body, concentrating, he thought, on those areas where the scales ran on her own. He didn't know whether she was savouring the difference, as he had been, or expected those regions to be erogenous zones, but he didn't really care.

They rolled over on the sweat-damp bed, and soon she was on top of him, still kissing as Tynoc once again ran his hands over the alien shape of her face, then through her hair, the tightly bound pigtails falling down over his chest.

Then she pushed herself away, sitting upright, but with her thighs still wrapped around his hips. His cock was pressed against her buttocks, and he could feel that sandpaper texture again, against the sensitive skin there, unfamiliar yet powerfully erotic. Yet he made no move, leaving it to her this time.

Debem slid herself over his cock, pressing her hands against his chest and letting out a loud moan of delight as he penetrated that tight slit once more. She moved against him slowly at first, letting her body accustom itself again to his alien girth, but he could see the rapturous look on her face as she did so.

Soon, her pace quickened, her cries becoming louder as her flesh slapped against his. Tynoc looked up at her, seeing the outline of her body as she mounted him. The wide cords of her neck, the almost angular shape of her head, all of it somehow inspired him as much as it had once repelled. He gripped her buttocks with one hand as they bounced against his body, fondling a breast with the other, as he kept gazing into her eyes.

She was almost there now, their bodies moving to a mutual rhythm. Tynoc knew that he could not last much longer, either... unless... 

The Bajorans were a spiritual people, with religions going back thousands of years. Yet not all of those faiths were as ascetic as that which now dominated. In the distant past, some of his people had experimented with other paths using drugs, ecstatic dancing, and, yes, even sex, to approach what they thought of as the divine. These days, such beliefs were thought to be associated with the pah-wraiths , not the Prophets, but not every aspect of the old practices had died out entirely, even if the context had changed.

Tynoc focussed on his inner self, withdrawing from the sensations he was experiencing to watch them as an observer. He could still feel them, but they were no longer truly him, seen through his mind's eye, not directly felt through the flesh of his body. The near-trance state lessened the immediacy and the sensual rush, but that was the point. In this condition, he could still please Debem just as much, but...

The Cardassian pushed against him harder and faster still, her cries reaching a crescendo as...

...would not...

...she came, dark eyes locked on his, body shuddering with the sudden release.

...ejaculate.

She rolled off him once again, lying beside him, still stroking his body, pressing her head into the crook of his neck. Tynoc stroked her neck again, and she made a murmuring sound of appreciation. A little later, her wandering hand moved down to his cock - and found it still erect and ready for action.

She started, surprised at his apparently sudden recovery, and moved her head to look at him, a silent question on her lips. Tynoc grinned, rolling her over onto her back, positioning himself on top of her. They lay there like that for a moment, until Debem grinned as well, teeth white against the grey-brown of her lips, and then nodded in enthusiastic encouragement.

Tynoc pressed himself inside her for the third time, using the same gentle rhythm that she had when mounting him. Her hands were all over him, not knowing where to stop, and his were soon doing the same, caressing soft skin and scaled ridges alike. 

They kissed again and again, the bed creaking as he gradually raised the tempo of his thrusts. Debem's body was arched against him, using every movement to press him further into her. Tynoc had never had such incredible sex in his life, not even the first time he took her. That has been pure passion, the satisfaction of an all-consuming need, but this was something more, something almost spiritual, that pleased his Bajoran soul as much, if not more, as it did his body.

His own cries of delight merged with hers as the two coupled. He pulled back whenever either of them got close, not wanting this to end, yet knowing that eventually it had to. He could not estimate how long it took, this third time, beyond the fact that it was longer than either of the previous two occasions, yet somehow he knew when the time had come.

This time there was no holding back, no retreating to a near trance. Tynoc was focussed fully on their mutual pleasure, no longer the raging beast of their first coupling, but attentive to every nuance of his partner's movement, every flicker on her face. They climaxed together, he experiencing an even greater bliss than the first time, and Debem giving every appearance of doing the same.

They cuddled after that, holding one another tight as they slid into a deep and much deserved sleep.

--***--

"You never did say what that conversation was about," said Sh'ree at breakfast as four of them were gathered for breakfast in the forward lounge.

Lugmilla looked up, puzzled. "What conversation?"

"The one with Ral Tynoc the evening before last. He didn't look very happy."

"I told you it was private," pointed out the Tellarite.

"To be honest, Ral has been a bit cranky over the last couple of days," pointed out Max, "something's got into him."

"Hmm. Well, it's still private."

"The reason I ask is because of this," the Andorian slid a plastic card across the table, "he just bumped into me in the corridor, and asked me to give it to you."

"Was he still looking angry?" asked Max, worried.

"No... looked like he'd had a rough night, but he seemed oddly happy, if anything."

"Huh," said the Tellarite, and picked up the card. It looked like one of those animated image things that humans sent to one another on their birthday. She pressed her thumb against the patch, and watched it for a moment.

"Well?" said Sh'ree, "You've got to tell us what it is!"

"It's... a thank you card. He says he owes me a big favour."

"For what?"

Lugmilla was silent for a while. She probably wasn't used to compliments, figured Sh'ree, at least not from those who weren't already her close friends. Eventually, the Tellarite spoke up, looking around the table at her companions with apparent sincerity. 

"I have absolutely no clue," she said.



Reconciliation and Revenge



Before I recount this story I need to give you a little background information. I am Jim Samuels. I'm a widower and had botched the job of bringing up a very smart and independent minded daughter, Jody. Things were mostly o.k. until about her sophomore year in high school. She developed the attitude that I was incredibly old fashioned and not overly bright. I hate to admit it but she took after me, except she thought faster than I did. Now, I'm no slouch. I have a master's degree in physics and a PhD in mathematics. My advanced degrees had been paid for by the U.S.M.C (United States Marine Corps). But I know very little about teenage girls, and what I do know about them scares me half to death. 

My world collapsed part way through her junior year of college. Somehow I found out something I wasn't supposed to know. Specifically, Jody had moved in with a guy instead of staying in the dorm. Not only that, the guy was a high school dropout and into all sorts of things I had tried to keep my little girl away from. 

I must admit that there was a shouting match and Jody told me to "shove it" in just about those words. She left the house and through much effort on her part she stayed under my radar for several years. I had even gone to the expense of getting a private investigator to try to locate her. That was to no avail. I was to find out later that she gotten a new social security number and name. She was effectively lost to me.

Now to the story. Several years had passed. My current employment is with a "national lab" that does weapons research. As such I had to have a security clearance. The work required a clearance that was a step or two above top secret. It was mostly code word stuff. On the outside it looked like I had everything under control. In reality I was praying for her safety on almost an hourly basis. I couldn't just forget her. 

I was sitting at home watching Fox News channel when one of those "around the nation in sixty seconds" types of spots showed up. I was only half way watching until I briefly saw what I was sure was my daughter's face on the screen. The newscaster said that her pimp had been arrested for beating her, almost to death. She lived in one of our major septic swamps that pass for cities these days.

I immediately got on my computer and contacted Fox News with a desperate plea. I explained my situation and asked them to find out exactly where the bust took place and what my daughter was calling herself. Over the next few days I obtained all the information that I needed to find her. I had confirmed much of the information with detective Reed, who was supervising the investigation to build the case against the pimp. One of the prime witnesses was a street patrolman who had witnessed part of the beating and had arrested Seshawn Brown, the pimp.

Once all things were ready I was on a plane headed to where she was, with all of the documentation needed to prove that she was indeed my daughter. I went directly to the police headquarters. I found out that she now called herself Jody Abrams. After an hour with the lead detective he gave me the information regarding the pimp who had hurt my little girl and then drove me to the hospital where my daughter was staying. She was heavily sedated when I arrived. She was not conscious. I spoke to her doctor, showing him the proof that I was her father and asking when she would be safe to move to my home. He indicated that a week and a half ought to do it. I told him that a first class ticket would be sent to him for her and that I would have traveling clothes delivered for her use. I asked that he make sure that she got on the plane, which was a non-stop flight.

The detective then took me to what Jody had been calling an apartment. It was a horror story all by itself. She didn't have any pets and there didn't seem to be much of anything worth keeping. I was about to leave when I spotted something under her pillow. My heart almost broke when I found it to be a picture of her and me during her freshman year of high school. I checked what few clothes my daughter had and noted the sizes.

After her apartment I went to a local mall and picked out decent traveling clothes and shoes for my little girl. These were dropped off with the doctor for Jody's use when she was fit to leave the hospital.

After thanking the detective for his great help I returned to the airport and went home. I had work to do. 

When I arrived home I had several tasks lined up. First, I provided my best friend (Ed Smith), the head of security for the lab, with the information I had on Jody's attacker. (He and I had been in the Corps together.) I told him I wanted all the information on Jody's pimp that could be gotten without raising any suspicions. The second item on my list was to get Jody's room ready for her. My last task would be spread out over the next week. I spent every night that week either on the target range with my 1911 Colt semi-auto, in the dojo freshening up my hand to hand combat skills, or doing some minor machining in my basement. 

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

I was a nervous wreck on my way to the airport. I recognized her as she came into the terminal from her plane. She was bandaged up, black and blue, and sad looking. I found her before she found me. 

"Hello sweetheart, I've got your room ready for you."

She tearfully wrapped her arms around my neck. She looked worried. 

"How much do you know, daddy?"

"Enough! For right now all I want to know is that my little girl is safe and will have a place to recuperate. There are no strings attached. I have no demands. I am just overjoyed to have you home with me again, even if it turns out to be for a limited time."

"You aren't going to give me a lecture?"

"No, do you need one?"

She sort of smiled at that.

We made our way to my car and headed home. When she got to her room she immediately noted that she had a wardrobe of new clothes and shoes all in relatively current styles.

"How did you know what to buy me?"

"My secretary at work is about your age. I had her join me in shopping. I followed her suggestions."

"You've changed, dad. In the past you never took advice very well."

"I've grown up a bit in the meantime, daughter of mine. What would you like to eat for supper?"

"What do you have?" 

"We have all the traditional foods and there is a wonderful Chinese restaurant just ten miles from here. What is your pleasure."

"Tonight, please let's just have something simple to eat. The flight has exhausted me. Just surprise me."

Well, I did that. I ordered in a wonderful Jerlando's sheet pizza for delivery and made up a tossed salad.

We ate in relative silence. Towards the end of the meal I told her:

"Sweetheart, I want to make sure you noticed that I put a good strong lock on your bedroom door. When that door is closed and locked it is good protection. You can rest assured that you will be safe. The same goes for the inside grating on your bedroom window. It opens from the inside only. You will be safe. Please just set whatever schedule you are most comfortable with for the next month or so."

"Why are you being so kind to me? I made all the wrong choices and I know you should be very angry with me."

"I love you Jody. You are, and will always be, my little girl. You remember the story of the Prodigal Son. His father didn't give up on him even though he did all that he could to break his father's heart. I love you the same way."

"Now, there are two other things. First; nobody, but me, knows where you have been or what kind of trap you've been in. Nobody will be looking at you and judging you by anything but what you do now. Second; you will be safe here. I have people watching the man you were associated with. This house is not a place he knows about and is definitely not a place that he would want to visit."

The next few weeks were uneventful. I started to bring Jody to the pistol range and the dojo with me. At one time she had gotten up to a green belt and was a relatively good shot. It was time to get her familiar with self defense again. However, this time I taught her some other self defense moves. I taught her like the Recon Marines are taught. Now she would learn how to kill, if need be. 

During this time I also brought her to church with me. One of my friends, another ex-Marine, is also a first rate clinical psychologist. He agreed to see Jody a couple of times a week until she managed to resolve the issues in her past. I also got her to the doctor and dentist to have her checked out and repaired where needed.

It was six months later when I got a courtesy call from Detective Reed. There had been a major problem with the case. The street patrolman who had witnessed the crime had been found dead and Seshawn Brown had dropped from sight. There was no longer a living witness against him, except for my daughter. 

I couldn't just wait for him to show up, something needed to be done quickly. I went back to Ed Smith, at the lab. He had friends in both the DIA (Defense Intelligence Agency) and FBI. He called in a few favors to get his friends to have a look for Mr. Brown. Off the record they were more than happy to oblige. They, as it turned out, called some of their friends with the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency). It turned out that the DEA knew Mr. Brown and kept close tabs on him through a deep undercover agent who worked for his drug supplier. It didn't take long to learn that Mr. Brown had tortured the street patrolman (before killing him) and had found out what city my daughter had gone to.

None of these facts sat well with me. In fact I almost hoped that Mr. Brown would try something. It would probably be the last thing he ever did. I added a few things to my daughter's room. A 12ga pump shotgun with 00 buck shot, and a 1911 Colt .45, both of which she knew how to use. The other thing I added was a 1/4" steel plate on the inside of her door. The glass in her window was backed up with three inch thick urethane plate. It was essentially bulletproof. Nobody was going to ambush my little girl in her own room. Now it was time to wait.

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

Seshawn Brown was pissed off! That damn hooker, Jody, was causing him way too much trouble. If she got away with it the other girls might start thinking about the wrong things. He had to find her and make an example of her. If the other girls were forced to watch him slowly kill Jody that should keep them from even thinking about leaving his profitable business. Well, it was sort of true, it was very profitable for him and the girls didn't matter. Some of them he had hooked on drugs others were just so afraid of him that they wouldn't think of trying to get away. 

Seshawn knew what city Jody had been taken to. He put out the word to some known associates in that city that he wanted to know where Jody Abrams was. He put out the word that his associates should check with their favorite crooked lawyer to find out if anyone by that name had petitioned the court to modify their name. He also sent a photo of Jody's face. He offered a finder's fee of $1000 if she was found (and they provided him a picture of her that was obviously not the one he sent to them) and $10,000 if they also had her picture as well as the street address where she was staying. 

Now it was Seshawn's time to wait.

***********

Within five weeks Seshawn's wait was over. He made arrangements for a nice hotel room, in another name, and set up a meet with the guys who found Jody. 

He met up with the guys to pay them their finder's fee. Then he asked them about renting some "muscle". He wanted backup in case of unforeseen difficulties. He didn't expect any problems, he was just cautious. 

The day after he arrived he was given a ride to look over the house Jody was staying at. He was surprised to find that the house was in a rural area and located on what could be called a "secondary road". The road was paved with "oil and stone" but only in front of houses. The house was well off the road. This pleased Seshawn, this provided some privacy. Maybe they could just slowly kill her right here while making a video of the party. The video would be enough to teach the other "girls" in his stable. 

They noted the mail box number and the name on the box. Then Seshawn went back to his room and did a reverse lookup to find out about the man who owned that house. All he could find out was that Mr. Samuels worked at a lab of some kind. He also learned that this Samuels guy wasn't known for hiring prostitutes or doing drugs. Well, that was o.k., what they really needed to know, they now knew. He got out of work at somewhere between five and six. He also was known to drive directly home on most evenings. 

Tomorrow would be a Friday. If they got to the girl on Friday they could work her over and be gone before Mr. Samuels arrived home. If they couldn't get her, they'd pay Jody and Samuels a visit mid evening. Yeah, that would work out well.

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

Ed Smith, the security guy at the lab, dropped in to talk to me mid afternoon on Thursday. 

"Jim, I've got some news for you. The pimp has surfaced. He flew into our local airport in a commuter jet. He was met there by a couple of thugs who took him to the local Best Western motel. He's registered as Frank Jones. He's also wearing fake glasses and has an Afro wig on and is sporting a fake beard. Whoever did the makeup work could well be a professional. I only recognized him because of the description that I was given through some back channels that I have been using. I think that they have found out where you live. Be careful. Do you need backup?"

"I don't think so, Ed. Thanks for offering though. I've made a couple of changes in my house. My front entryway is now a sally port. If I want, once they are in they cannot get out and they also cannot enter the house itself. It will slow them down a bit. I think I'm good to go."

"You inetalled a sally port? Man, you tend to go overboard, don't you?"

"Hey Ed, you know the old saying 'an ounce of prevention beats a pound of cure'. I turned my entryway foyer into the sally port. The main structure of my house is reinforced concrete. I had it designed to be tornado proof. I even use those new high strength windows. They are even bulletproof until you use something heavier than a 9mm parabelum. All I had to do was replace three interior doors and fasten the steel frames in with a heavy stud gun. It isn't even obvious that it is a trap until you can't get out."

"O.K. guy; it sounds like you are on top of the problem. Give a yell if you need some help when the party starts."

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

Seshawn and his "Rent-A-Thugs" had arrived early Friday to try to get into the house. Just a close look at the house told them that they were not going to break in easily. Instead they arrived mid evening on Friday. My outside motion detectors spotted them and turned on the small lights next to the sidewalk that leads to the front door. From the delay in their arrival at the door it appeared that the lights spooked them a bit.

When they got to the front door they tried to just walk in and found that the door was locked. Then they tried the doorbell.

On the closed circuit t.v. I could see them jump when my voice answered the door on the little speaker that they had not noticed.

"Hello, I can't come to the door right now, but I'll unlock it so that you can wait inside. I'll be with you in a couple of minutes."

I buzzed them in.

The four of them walked into the foyer. What they saw was a nice room with half a dozen chairs around the edges of the room and a flight of stairs that went up somewhere. The room was nicely appointed with paneled walls and Berber carpet. They walked in and the door shut behind them. 

I phoned for the police at this point. I told them that they didn't have to hurry; I had things under control.

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

Jody was sitting beside me in my den. She was shaking nervously.

"Don't worry sweetheart, the bad guys can't get to you. Keep watching you are going to see them become much more frightened than you are."

She looked at me but her eyes were saying that she didn't completely believe me.

I hit the microphone button again and spoke to them.

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

"I'm sorry I can't join you, and your associates, at the moment Mr. Brown. Please sit down and enjoy your wait for the police. In the case of Mr. Brown I believe that the FBI will be picking him up since he is an interstate fugitive at the moment, aren't you Seshawn?"

The shocked look on their faces quickly was replaced by a mad dash to the front door. They discovered that it was locked. Seshawn took out a pistol and shot at the lock and was surprised when the bullet didn't penetrate the "wooden door". Rapidly two of the others tried to force the door while two others ran to the doors from the foyer into the house. They discovered that those doors were made of as good a material as the front door was. 

One of them ran up the stairs and tried to force open the doors up on the top landing. Again, the doors didn't budge. 

"What are you doing man? We just came in to talk to you. Why are you treating us this way? 

By this point Jody had a large smile on her face. I keyed the mike again, "Well, for starters you mistreated my little girl, second you murdered a perfectly good cop. Third, if you had forced your way into my house you would all be dead by now. How's that for a reason.? What do you say to that Seshawn?"

"Man, you've got it all wrong. That cop was trying to kill me, it was self defense. As for your little girl do you want me to tell you what she's been doing for me? Do you want to know all the things we've done to her? She may have been innocent at one time but now she's just a two bit whore."

"Seshawn, I suggest you shut up regarding my daughter or I'm going to make it unpleasant in there. You have no idea what you have walked into."

"Oh, shut up man, you can't do anything to us."

I grinned at Jody and told her "watch this".

I pushed a button on a remote control box on my desk and adjusted the dial to one (out of ten).

At first nothing seemed to be happening. Then Seshawn and his hoods started to take off their coats and hats. 

"Hey man, it's getting hot in here. What did you do?" 

"Nothing compared to what I could do. Do you want me to heat the room up for you a little bit more?"

"You're bluffing man, you probably just turned on the furnace."

I turned the knob very briefly to four and then back down to one. The men could be seen to be screaming in pain. And then just breathing hard.

"Again, do you want me to heat the room up for you?"

"No, man, what are you going to do with us."

"Ah, you're talking sensibly now. First, do you see that little metal door on wall under the stairs?"

"Yeah, what about it?" 

"First you will all open the door and drop your guns into the slot in the box. Second you will strip naked. Third you will all put on the handcuffs that are on the hooks in the box."

"Go to hell! No way on earth we're going to do that."

I, again turned the knob up, but to five this time, and then back to one again. This time they were all screaming in pain. 

"Are you sure you want to tell me to go to hell? I can send you there permanently if you want. I can bring you up to the point where you will start to see your own flesh start to cook and then char. Or, I can remotely kill all of you. What is your choice?"

"O.K. man, what did you want us to do again?"

"Let me ask you a question Seshawn. Now that you know I can kill you, remotely, if I want; why did you kill that cop?"

"Hey man, I had to find the girl. That was the only way to do it."

"Just that simple, huh? If you need an address, just kill someone?"

The men were quiet then.




Reconciliation and Revenge



"I'll repeat the instructions for you. First you will all open the door and drop your guns into the slot in the box. Second you will strip naked. Third you will all put on the handcuffs that are on the hooks in the box."

The men quickly dropped their guns in the slot, removed their clothes and put on the handcuffs.

"Good, now please sit down and wait for the authorities. Oh, and buy the way, you have been on video camera since you got out of your car. Every word, every gesture, every shot has been recorded."

Jody just sat there with a stunned look on her face. 

"Dad, what did you do to them?"

"You see this box, sweetie, it controls a very large microwave source in the space under the stairs. Effectively our foyer is one large microwave oven at the moment. In fact I'm not sure if they won't all need cataract surgery soon. Microwaves are bad on the eyes and the testicles."

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

The doorbell rang five minutes later. I again used the speaker.

"Hello officers, I've been expecting you. I would suggest that you have your guns out as you enter the foyer. The bad guys are all sitting there in handcuffs waiting for you." 

I buzzed the door open. The police came in. There must have been six of them. When they saw the hoods they all started laughing at them. 

"What's the matter boys? Did you pick the wrong house?"

"Officers, the owner has been torturing us with heat. He has us trapped in here. You've got to protect us."

I hit the mike again. "Officers, the big guy with the deep tan is wanted for killing a police officer over in New Jersey. He has hired these other guys as 'muscle'. I have their arrival and conversations on video tape, complete with time stamp. As you can see there is a clock on the wall and today's paper is on the little hall table. They will show up in the video. If one of you would like to come into the house I'll be happy to let you in. I can give you the direct line to the detective who is handling the murder case and the case of the assault on my daughter." 

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

After the prisoners, and their clothes, were taken out to the squad cars I opened the doors and we sat down at the dining room table with fresh coffee and my favorite doughnuts. I explained what had happened, while minimizing my daughter's involvement. My video recorder uses a time synch so that there is no noticeable jump from when one video leaves off and another begins. I had stopped the video and the wall clock on a frame that didn't show the clock. I restarted the clock and recording again just before the police rang the doorbell. Unless they really looked at the tape in great detail they would never suspect that anything had happened except for switching camera angles.

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

It's been five years now since the showdown with the hoods. My daughter is now working on her master's degree and is living at home. I know she will move out when she falls in love with some lucky guy. But, until then I have my precious daughter back. It is nice to have an intact family again.