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Half the Man Ch. 01

By: Mostera1



It has been a long time since I posted, real life is what it is...

This offering is a multi-chapter marital strife drama written with an erotic flair that utilizes a most unusual plot device...

I wish to thank the following for their excellent help, and most of all for their encouragement to persevere:

Laptopwriter, DeYaken, and Robert.

The input provided by these fine writers was invaluable to me. Words cannot express how much I appreciated their advice and suggestions.

A very special thank you to my wonderful editor Postscriptor, his skills are phenomenal, and I am eternally indebted to his word wizardry, and friendship. His ability to enhance a story is amazing. So once again to my talented editor and friend, thank you.

I am glad to be back, and I hope you the reader enjoy my thought provoking and yes, unique story of lust, betrayal, and love.

Constructive comments are always welcome.

The story is finished, and a chapter should post every day.

Chapter 1

The morning sun peeked between the window slats, and shined onto closed eyes. Mari responded to this gentle intrusion and curled into the arms of the man she married only five months earlier. His strong biceps reminded the fair skinned woman of her late dad and how protected she felt wrapped firmly inside them. She sighed at the faint memory and snuggled tight into her new husband's magnificent chest. His hand found her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. He loudly exhaled, his breaths slowed and soon he was back asleep. 

The young woman listened to the soft snores and felt mischievous. Her hand traveled down his firm abdomen. She paused six times to trace each muscle with her forefinger. Her violet colored nail circled his navel. She giggled when his breathing changed and he shifted slightly. She waited one minute, then two. Sure that he was still asleep, she entered the forest in search of buried treasure. Mari probed the underbrush, and found her prize nestled at the center. It was a tiny thing, barely an inch tall — the unruly thatch hid it well.

"So nice and small," she whispered. "Perfect."

She looped her thumb and finger around the base, and heard a low drone. "Sounds like my big strong lion is purring," she chuckled as she stared wantonly at his closed eyes.

She skimmed up the short distance and delicately teased the slit with her nail. Mari suddenly moaned with pleasure as it stirred. Her tiny cherry nipples hardened as she grasped the spongy pink head and slowly slid down the helmet. She stopped just beneath the crown, her thumb rested on the first knuckle of her finger. She held her breath, and waited. Imperceptibly the little nub began to pulse in rhythm with her man's heartbeat.

She almost swooned when she felt the first swell, breathlessly she sighed, "Its happening."

Cool skin warmed at the increased blood flow. The seedling filled with the life giving fluid and grew. Her sex moistened in concert as her thumb subtly moved. The tiny stalk once barely an inch tall stood almost three inches as pre-cum oozed from the supple head. Her grip loosened, she added a second finger and squeezed the thickening shaft. Her wetness trickled onto the sheet. Up and down moved her hand. The distance between strokes increased. Mari wrapped a third finger around the substantial trunk. Breathlessly she watched the head turn purple and seemingly triple in size. The spot beneath her legs spread when her entire hand enclosed the majestic cock and caressed its seven-inch length.

"Just a few minutes ago it was so tiny, now it's so big and hard. God I love to watch it rise," she mewled, the spot now a puddle.

Oblivious to her husband's golden eyes, now open, Mari shuddered as the first climax took her. She rubbed his turgid shaft faster, reveling in the glory. Dylan moaned and clenched his buttocks. He pumped his hips with her and suddenly rope after rope of hot sticky semen spurted from his pulsing cock. Mari shook, cried out a second time then collapsed. Her hand still on his softening penis, she snuggled onto the sweaty chest of her loving husband. 

"I will never get tired of making you grow, I love it. Your cock was made for my hand," she said passionately, as she rubbed the sultry shaft and played with his juices.

"Your hand feels great on me," Dylan chuckled, "and so do your lips."

"Whether it's my hand or mouth, I just love to feel and watch you swell. I mean when I woke up, you were so teensy tiny, only this big," she said in a little girl voice holding her thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

"That small?"

"No this small," and closed the gap even more.

"You wound me, my dear, with your remarks about my size," he said feigning anger.

"Hahaha, we both know better. It gets me hot making your cock grow big. It turns me on to no end that I have that much effect on you. I can't live without it.

"I...I don't think you will ever understand how this makes me feel Dylan." She sighed and kissed his dimpled cheek.

"No, I probably never will," was the chuckled reply.

"I'm not joking, it's so—breathtaking, so fucking—powerful. It gets me wet just thinking about it."

"I know; this will be the third time we've had to change the sheets this week."

She tousled her hair, and batted her eyes, "Are you complaining?"

"Of course not, I would love to change them every day."

"That can be arranged," she said, coyly licking his fluid off her fingers.

The twenty-four year old wrapped muscular arms around his wife and kissed her deeply. He held her tight, their lips still locked with one another and thought how lucky he was to meet Mariette Anderson at the gym seven months ago.

*

The physical attraction between them was immediate; they both felt it. Two days was all it took before they landed in bed together. He was hard before the motel room door closed. They fucked until the wee hours. Afterwards he held her sleeping form, and wondered if she was 'the one' before sleep claimed him too.

Dawn's light framed the rented room's window when Dylan felt his new lover stir. He reveled in the moment. Suddenly her breathing quickened.

"It was so big last night, but now it's so little!" she gasped, "I've never seen such a teensy weensy penis before."

Dylan's eyes snapped open and he was about to say something, when Mari went wild. She began to touch and tease his growing member. He moaned with pleasure, and pulled her large breast to his waiting mouth.

Her eyes widened as his cock quickly went from insignificance to a monster. "D...d...did I do that?"

"You certainly did Mari. I can't remember it ever getting that hard," he panted.

Mari squealed, climbed on top of him reverse cowgirl and impaled herself on his thick firm love muscle. 

"So much bigger than last night, and I did it, I did it, I made it this big," she grunted as she rode him hard.

He grabbed her ass cheeks and helped her frenzy. 

'So hot, tight, and wet—ahh this is Heaven,' he thought as he watched her pussy inhale his cock.

Suddenly she spun around and looked deep into his golden brown eyes, "You are magnificent. Dylan, I...I'm falling in love with you."

He pulled her face to his, "I think I love you too Mariette."

The new couple kissed, and continued their passionate lovemaking.

A few mornings later after an all night fuck session, he awakened to a warm wonderful feeling. He peeked and saw her nestled between his legs. Hands rubbed his abdomen as her mouth clamped onto the tip of his cock. Hot moist lips enclosed the glans as her tongue circled his captive head. Only her tongue moved, she never bobbed once. Dylan got larger and harder than ever.

Dylan turned his head and in a throaty voice said, "OHH, that feels so good. I've never had that done before."

Mari ignored his words as her tongue danced on his swelling cock head. It seemed with each pass he got even bigger. He felt his balls tighten, then suddenly she let go and he popped out of her succulent mouth. He moaned in disbelief. She looked into his anxious eyes, and licked the frenulum just under the crown. Dylan's back arched involuntarily. Warm hands held his penis at the furry base, and with the flat of her tongue she licked the underside of his cock. Up and down her tongue slowly bathed him, just beneath the swollen glans to the oozing slit on top. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. It wasn't long until he began to twitch and jerk, and then he came—hard. One long blast of cum, two short spasms five seconds later, then four massive jets of thick semen spewed high into the air and past his head, Mari never let up with her loving ministrations as spurts of hot creamy fluid hit her tongue and cheek. 

When he was spent, he lustily looked at this beautiful young woman, her left cheek wet with cum. She smiled lovingly and licked his shrinking cock clean. When finished she climbed up and kissed his dimpled cheek. Four weeks later to the chagrin of their parents, they eloped.

*

The alarm clock pushed the blissful memories into the background and Dylan slowly withdrew his lips from hers. Mari protested at the loss of contact and sighed. He chuckled gave her breast a gentle squeeze, shut the alarm off and sat up. Mari giggled, spun onto her belly lifted her butt high and twerked her husband. He patted her curvy ass twice on each cheek, rolled out of bed, walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He stepped in and let the warm water flow down his muscled chest. He put his head under the hot mist and started to wash. After several minutes he closed his eyes and enjoyed the water's heat. He was about to turn the stream off when a cool breeze told him he was no longer alone. His cock stirred when delicate arms wrapped around his chest and squeezed.

Lush full breasts flattened as hard nipples pressed into his back and her pussy moistened with anticipation of what came next. Wet with lust and water, her breaths quickened as small hands sensuously massaged his solid pectorals and slowly moved down to the firm abdomen. She closed her eyes. A drip fell from her garden as his strong muscles tightened. Fluids of lust tickled her inner thighs as she rolled her fingers through his thick brown pubic hair. Flushed she reached down and found his manhood. Her eyes snapped open, and with a loud sigh took her hand away.

"Oh hell, why aren't you small?" she pouted.

Confused he replied, "What did you expect? You come in here rub up against me and it feels good, damn good. Of course I'm going to grow in response to my sexy lady's touch. I wouldn't be a man if I didn't."

"Yeah, but you know I like it when you're tiny," to emphasize her point she squeezed his now flaccid penis then growled, "and this—isn't tiny." Abruptly she let his cock go, and the head bounced off his ball sack.

Dylan miffed at his wife's apparent contempt turned around, "Are you actually upset that I'm not tiny, just soft?"

"No, no, of course not just playing," she replied with the slightest hint of disappointment and then quickly asked, "Are you done in here?"

A bit irritated at her tone he faced the warm steamy cascades again. "Pretty much, I'll be done in a..."

Dylan jumped and gasped when the cold hit him. His loving wife had reached around and unceremoniously turned off the hot water.

"Fuck! Mariette Hunt what are you doing?" he barked as he shivered.

She turned off the bone chilling water, and spun him around. 

"Lovely," she smiled as she looked at his shriveled dick. She quickly got on her knees and put him in her mouth. Her nose pressed into his pubic hair and she inhaled his scent. Immediately she felt him grow. She moved her tongue, and then—he was gone.

Frustrated with the sudden emptiness, she got up and glared at her husband, "Hey, why did you leave? You just started to sprout!"

Dylan nodded at the fogged clock face, then as he toweled off he flatly stated, "I would love to stay and finish but I have to get to work. I can't take any more time off."

Mari looked up and saw it was 6:35 A.M., "Shit, I'm sorry hon, I got wound up. Forgive me?"

"Of course my lusty lady," he brightly replied and placed the damp towel on the rack. "After I get dressed, I'll cut up a honey dew melon and cook some oatmeal for breakfast."

"That sounds great my healthy man," she said as she watched him comb his sandy-brown hair.

Mari sauntered over and ran her hands up and down his firm arms. Then giving him a swat on his tight ass, "Hop to it," she barked with a smile.

He turned and gave her small nipple a tweak. She yelped, then in a firm voice he said, "You best remember who is in charge."

"I am, Mr. Hunt!" she challenged, hands on her hips.

Dylan reached around and squeezed her supple butt cheeks. He cupped her ass pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. He looked down into her blue eyes, and caressed the long chestnut tresses. He replied tenderly, "Damn right you are, Mrs. Hunt." He explored her mouth with his tongue and finished with a luxurious kiss. She smiled as he left the bathroom. The young wife stretched, yawned and turned the shower back on to wash her hair.

A few minutes later, Mari sat at the makeup table, "We should have gotten married the day after we met. It can't get any better than this," she said softly as she switched on the hair dryer. "No, not at all."

*

Dylan was hard at work on a $100,000 project when his desk phone rang.

"Kimbridge Marketing and Research, Dylan Hunt speaking. How can I assist you today?"

"Ooooh, so polite."

Dylan chuckled, "Hi there sexy lady, you on a break? What can I do for you?"

"Yes I am, and I think you know the answer for that particular question, don't you—hmmm?"

"Yeah, I do," he replied with a laugh.

"How lucky I am, not only does he have a tiny pecker but damn if he isn't smart too," she snorted.

"Ha-ha-ha, you are so funny. But if you don't quit with the puny jokes you can become the 'ex' Mrs. Dylan Hunt, how about them apples?" Dylan asked dryly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, don't sweat the small stuff honey," she chortled back.

Dylan groaned. "I assume you didn't call just to insult me."

"Of course not, my Mom is coming over after five for help with her scrapbooking project."

His tone and demeanor immediately changed, "Your mother—wonderful. What do you need me to pick up this time?"

"Don't sound to enthusiastic, I need a distressing tool. It's made by Prima. Oh and quit with my mom okay?"

"Sorry, I was planning to hit the gym. You know—gotta pump that iron." 

His voice dripped with scorn, "And regarding your darling mother; she hates me, remember?"

Mari ignored the well-baited hook and teasingly pleaded, "Pretty please my handsome stud! The craft store is on your way home."

"What's it worth to you, hmmm?" he asked with a snicker.

"After mother leaves, I will perform two feats of magic."

"Oh really, and they are?"

"First, I will turn a mole hill into a mountain, and for my second trick I will make it disappear inside a hot tight wet crevasse."

His voice rose an octave, "That does sound magical. You got yourself a deal. I can feel the mountain peaking already."

"Don't you go spoiling my show," she replied with a humored huff.

"I won't," he laughed, "I won't. I'll see you in a few hours. Love you."

"Love you too."

*

It was after 7:00 P.M. when Mari dialed the number again. "Hello you've reached Dylan Hunt, plea..." She ended the call.

"What's going on?"

She was exasperated, "That's the fifth time it went straight to voicemail. I'm really getting worried Mom. It's not like him to be this late without calling."

"Maybe his cell battery died," Sylvia nonchalantly offered.

"Mom, he has a backup battery, or does he?" Mari got up and checked the counter by the microwave. "Shit no its right here. Okay that may explain why he isn't calling, but it doesn't tell me where he is."

"He probably couldn't find the craft store." She grumbled, "Or more likely he forgot and is at the gym ogling all those leotard clad women, and 'pumping iron'." She finished with contempt in her voice.

Sylvia reached into her purse and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. "I'll be right back," she snorted, as she opened the first floor apartment's patio door and stepped outside.

"Mother, Dylan's been to that craft store before. He wouldn't forget, nor would he just go to the gym to look at. Umm—Mom, where are you going? Mother! What are you doing? I thought you qui..."

The irritated young wife stopped in mid-word as her cell phone rang.

"About damn time you called. Wait a second—I don't recognize this number. Maybe he borrowed a phone." She pressed the connect button, "Dylan is that you?"

"Hello. Is this Mrs. Hunt?" a strange voice asked.

The young woman felt a cold chill when she heard her married name. She hesitated and said, "This is Mrs. Hunt, who is this?"

"Mrs. Hunt, my name is Dr. Jonathan Connor with Mercy Hospital. I need you to come down here as soon as possible. I am very sorry to have to tell you but your husband," she heard paper shuffle and the doctor briefly paused, "let's see, umm, Dylan, yes, Dylan Hunt was in a serious traffic accident today and is currently in critical condition in the ICU."

"Dylan in the hospital? Critical c...c...condition? T...t...t...traffic ac...cident? How, ww...when doctor?" her mind fought to say the words, "H...h...his injuries? How severe?"

"Mrs. Hunt, I will explain everything when you arrive. Come in through the emergency entrance ask for Dr. Isiah Cassidy, he will escort you to me." Dr. Connor took a deep breath, "I know this is a shock ma'am; please be careful driving."

"Th...Th...thank you doctor, I will." The protective case broke when the phone hit the floor followed by the distraught young woman.

Sylvia looked out at the pond and took a long drag. She was still upset that Mariette, her only daughter eloped against her wishes. 

"When I met that freak of nature I knew he was trouble, and now he has my daughter, MY daughter. I will never forgive that muscle-bound idiot for taking her away. Then the nerve of him telling me that if I didn't like them getting married it was too fucking bad." She smoothed her grayish-brown hair, took another drag and harshly flicked the ash to the ground.

"She should have listened to me, but no, that piece of dog shit blinded her to reason." She sighed, "It is what it is but I swear, whether its five weeks, five months, or five fucking years this marriage will not last." Sylvia looked back at the apartment and saw no one in the kitchen. She dropped the smoldering butt and crushed it beneath her foot. "I'll make sure it won't."

She walked inside and asked derisively, "Was that Dylan on the phone? Did he get an eyeful? Is he all done getting pumped up?"

"Mariette!" she shouted when she saw her daughter on the floor. "Mariette, honey what happened?"

The distressed woman replied, "Mom I have to go to Mercy Hospital, Dylan was in a traffic accident."

"Oh my, are you okay honey? Did they say what happened, or how he is?"

Sylvia inaudibly gasped when she helped her daughter up. The dazed girl just turned 22, yet she looked 42. Despite her tone, the young woman's face was furrowed with anxiousness, worry, and disbelief.

"He's in critical condition and they want to speak with me in person Mom!" Her voice became emotionless, "That can't be good, right?"

The worried mother picked up her daughter's phone took a breath, and tried hard to sound calm and convincing. "Not necessarily honey umm, most auto accident victims start off in critical condition, and doctor's usually like to talk in person, because of umm, HIPPA."

"Oh," replied Mari, not really understanding or caring what a HIPPA was. She took her phone looked on the table, and ran into the kitchen cursing, "Where the fuck did I put my keys, God damn it where's my fucking purse? Fuck, fuck, fuck." She grabbed several tissues off the counter and blew her nose. The tears streamed from reddened blue eyes and down her puffing cheeks.


Half the Man Ch. 01



"Honey slow down, slow down, easy," soothed her mother as she dabbed her daughter's wet face. "I have my purse right here. I'll drive us there and together we'll find out what's going on. Okay?"

"Yeah—sure," her daughter said. All was quiet when they left for the hospital. Mari stared out the passenger window and wondered about her husband.

'What am I supposed to do? What will I find when I see him? What's going to happen?' Then softly murmured, "We've been married just five months, and I've known him only for seven." She slumped into the seat and sobbed.

*

Sylvia with Mari on her arm walked briskly through the emergency room doors and headed to the triage station. She spoke with the charge nurse and was directed to a set of chairs.

Ten minutes passed when a deep voice rumbled, "Mrs. Hunt?"

A dazed Mari turned and looked up at the giant.

He saw the blank stare knelt down and rephrased the question, "Umm ma'am, are you Mrs. Dylan Hunt? Ma'am?" Unsure of what to do he glanced at the person next to the almost comatose woman.

Mari's mom looked at the immense human being and answered his unasked question. "Yes, she is Mrs. Hunt I am her mother, Sylvia Anderson, what's going..."

Before she could continue the massive man interjected and stood back up, "Mrs. Anderson, I'm Dr. Cassidy. Dr. Connor's resident. Would you both please follow me."

She got up and went with the colossal doctor to the elevator. She turned to her daughter, and was surprised. Mari was not there. She looked back and saw her still in the chair hands folded on her lap staring at the wall.

"Mariette!! Come on, we need to go."

"Oh, sorry Mom," was the meek reply. She slowly rose and fell in behind her mother and the towering doctor.

Sylvia looked at Mariette anxiously as they waited for their ride, but the young nervous wife just fidgeted with her hair, eyes fixed on the floor at her feet. The elevator door opened and they all got in. Floor six was pressed the doors closed, and the elevator lurched upward. Sylvia nudged her daughter with no response, and once more took matters into her own hands.

"Dr. Cassidy, what is the condition of my daughter's husband? Dr. Connor said he was critical. What are his injuries? Can you tell us please?"

"Ms. Anderson, Mrs. Hunt. Mr. Hunt suffered trauma to his lower abdomen, left leg, and has numerous contusions and lacerations. I would prefer Dr. Connor explain these injuries and discuss options concerning the welfare of your ..." At that moment the doctor's cell phone buzzed. "Yes, sir? ... Yes, they are with me." The elevator arrived on six and they stepped out. "We are on the floor, and will be there shortly."

Dr. Cassidy opened the door to the consultation room, and motioned for the two women to go in. Dr. Connor rose from the round table and gestured to the chairs. Sylvia introduced herself and Mariette to the doctor as they sat down.

Before they were settled, Dr. Conner started to talk, "Mrs. Hunt, your husband was involved in a bad traffic accident. He was brought in with a ruptured spleen, comminuted fracture of the left femur, and his pelvis is compromised which I will explain in a bit. We performed an emergency splenectomy, and inserted a rod with nails to stabilize his femur. The pelvic damage is actually several small bilateral cracks of the Ischium, and Pubis bones that appear superficial in nature. He has a through and through cut of the left cheek and other facial lacerations that will require extensive plastic surgery at a later date." The doctor took a sip of water.

"Fortunately nothing showed up on the spinal or head x-rays, and he passed every neuro-assesment test. Luckily your husband is in excellent shape, but in all likelihood will have mild to moderate difficulty walking because of the injury to the femur. The procedure we did should have him up in a few days provided there are no other complications. I mentioned a rod earlier. We did an Intramedullary Nailing where a specially designed metal shaft..."

Mari stared at the person talking, she heard fracture, surgery, rod, and—nothing. Her mind rewound the idyllic life she had with Dylan, the sex, the love, the marriage, the sex.

"Mariette! Snap out of it! Did you hear anything the doctor said?"

"What? Oh, sorry Mom, I—must have zoned out."

"Would you excuse us doctor?" Dr. Connor looked at the young woman then nodded at Sylvia and left the room with his tall resident. Sylvia heard whispers but could not make out what was said.

Once the door closed, "What is wrong with you young lady? Do you have any idea the severity of the situation? Mariette you have to focus. Come on honey, pull yourself together."

Tears fell from blue eyes, "M...m...mom I don't know what to do, I'm scared. Dylan is the strong one; I haven't a clue how to handle this. He would know what to ask and do. I don't, I...I don't. I mean when we eloped, it was my idea. Out of the blue I asked, 'Hey stud, you want to get married?' I was happily surprised when he said, 'Sounds like a plan to me, when?' We didn't know each other that long but I felt alive with him. I chuckled and answered, 'Yesterday.' He let loose with a big belly laugh pulled me into his arms and said, 'Mari Hunt does have a nice ring to it. What say we tell our parents the good news?'"

'I knew it, I knew it. That asshole did manipulate her, God how I hate that steroid using freak. Sylvia thought and gently put her arm around her grieving daughter, "Mariette, its okay. But..."

Mari jerked away, "NO IT'S NOT, okay." The disoriented woman was replaced by a flamethrower as she ripped into her mother. "I was floating on air until we told you and his mom and dad. Did we get any support, hell no! All we heard was: we were too young, we hardly knew each other, and we should wait. Well, I didn't want to wait and neither did he. After the backlash we got, he told me he would handle it, and he did. We flew to Vegas the next week and got married. When we got back he set both you and his parents down and explained in no uncertain terms what we did. Do you know that his parents haven't talked to him since that day?" 

"Oh yes, I certainly do remember." Sylvia knew her daughter and pretended to be conciliatory. Inside she stifled a snigger then gently said, "Honey, I understand you're upset but now isn't..."

Mari scowled and pointed an accusatory finger, "AND you Mother, constantly making snide remarks about him being a health nut, and always pumping up. I was so embarrassed when you sent him that 'Hans and Franz' birthday card 'I'm going to pump you up.' HOW could you Mother?" She put her head down on the table and cried. "How could you?"

 'If I could tell you I would.'  was her mother's silent answer. Although initially startled by her daughter's outburst, Sylvia realized it had run its course and knew exactly what to do. She placed her arm around her and soothed the sobbing girl. "Mariette, I'm sorry, I umm, didn't think. But you need to focus on now, not the past. I will help you honey. We'll get through this together, okay?"

"Yeah, okay mom."

Sylvia got up kissed her daughter on top of her head, and with a small smirk opened the consultation room door.

*

'Was that a beep? Why is it cold?' Darkness and strange sounds filled the void as dim memories collided with reality. 'Boy this sure is a long light. There's that beep again, what happened to the radio station?'

"Marg, I think he's beginning to stir."

'Marg? Who is Marg and what's she doing in my car? Was that the clerk from the craft store? Did I forget the bag? What is taking this light so long to change? It's dark outside, is there a storm coming? I thought the weather was supposed to be clear. My throat is so dry and why is my leg hurting? Where is that damn beep coming from?' 

"It's still too soon he needs another day, he is a strong one. Inject another 5 mg intravenously."

'Who's that? Another day? Intra what? Oh good the light changed, let's get home, what's that screeching? Oh no, NO!' Dylan silently screamed as the void claimed him once more.

*

"Three days off is not enough." Nurse Muldaur said quietly as she entered the ICU to start her first night back. She yawned in the dim light and checked the nurses' station to see tonight's assignments. 'Only two beds that is a pleasant surprise, last week it was five. Hmmm, one is a male accident victim, and the other a male drug overdose.' The nurse rolled up the sleeves on her blue sweater picked the tablet up and walked to the accident victim's room first.

Even though the patient was unconscious she entered with a cheery, "Well, who do we have here?"

The generously proportioned nurse set the tablet down and tapped the portable computer's keyboard to look at the last shift's data entries. The first few sentences told her all she needed. The patient had been sedated for three days, and should wake up soon. She checked the numbers on the different machines typed in the information and then placed a sterile cup on the ear thermometer. She looked at the patient's features and immediately set the thermometer down. Back at the computer with a few keystrokes, she read what happened to this young man.

"Oh my goodness," Nurse Muldaur gasped and put a hand to her mouth, "Several lacerations from just above the ear extending to the chin. Incised wound to left cheek, Maxilla along with the first and second molar of the mandible were exposed. Inconclusive test results on possible buccal nerve damage. Nasal cavities intact — thank goodness for small favors there. One hundred twenty-one stitches externally, forty-eight internal. With this damage, the swelling will take weeks to go down and the discoloration could last a month or two. Those stitches inside will be very uncomfortable. I hope plastic surgery will minimize the scarring."

Nurse Diana Muldaur sadly shook her head when she finished examining the heavily bandaged face. Gently she lowered the blanket and though a professional, admired the patients chiseled form. 'Look at those arms and Pecs, he must do a lot of weight training to get those beauties.'

She lowered the blanket further to check the surgical site and what she could see of his six packs gave her heart a palpitation. Satisfied that the area was fine, she took a breath and revealed the catheter and more importantly what it was inserted into. Diana grunted at his smallness did a quick check and moved quickly to her final stop, his surgically repaired femur. A few moments later she was convinced it too was doing well, and after another long look at that fine abdomen, she covered him back up. She made a few more entries, verified the computer updated the tablet and started to walk away when she heard him stir. She turned the main light on and hurriedly returned to his bed.

"Dylan, Dylan Hunt? Can you hear me?"

Eyelids fluttered at the sound, shadows moved. He tried to speak but couldn't.

"Don't try to talk, when I tell you I want you to cough. Do you understand?"

He looked up at the feminine sound. She was very blurry he could see the shape of a stethoscope, and she was asking him to what? 'Cough, she wants me to cough.'

"That's it, cough." Diana said, and quickly pulled out the airway followed by the gastro tube.

A raspy voice asked for water. "Here are some ice chips hon." She spooned a tiny amount into his parched mouth. "Not too much, not too much. Do you know where you are?"

He winced at the cold looked around the area then back at her and croaked, "A hospital I think."

She patted his hand, "Yes, that's right. What do you remember?"

"The last thing I recall—I was sitting in my car. Could I have some more ice?" She spooned another small mouthful in. "Thank you, I was at a light. It changed, I started to drive and then I woke up here. That's all, nothing else. What happened?" he hoarsely implored.

Remembering what she just read Nurse Muldaur answered, "According to the paramedic report, you were involved in a serious auto accident, and they had to cut you out of the car. You suffered several injuries. Dylan, how are you feeling?"

"I was in an auto accident? I—don't remember. I umm, feel tired, sore. My leg and side hurt, and the left side of my face feels—tight. It's like I was in a fight and lost—badly. Could I have some more ice please?"

"Yeah, a fight about sums it up," she snickered, and spooned ice chips into her patient's parched mouth. She picked a small light off the table, "Dylan can you open your mouth for me, I need to look inside."

He complied, "No bleeding, stitches look good. Thank you. To answer your question, you were in an accident three days ago you have been kept asleep to help your body recover from the trauma, and subsequent surgeries." Seeing his worried look she calmly added, "Don't fret we'll have you up in no time."

He lay silently and tried to remember. His mind focused on the room sounds. Abruptly Dylan's golden eyes snapped open when he heard the monitor beep.

She saw the increased pulse rate, and knew what to do. Diana opened the drawer removed a syringe, "Here this will help you relax and give you a more normal sleep." She popped the cap and administered the sedative through his IV. 

"Wow, can I have a bottle of that stuff?" he asked sluggishly as the medication coursed through his veins. 

"Ha ha ha; you aren't the first to make such a request and I doubt the last," she chortled.

Drowsily he inquired, "Three days? My wife, where is...my wife?"

"I imagine your wife is home asleep. It's after 3:00 A.M. We'll let her know that you're awake later this morning. Now try to get some more rest," she replied and increased the IV drip.

"Why does my—penis feel—so weird?" Dylan groggily inquired.

"Oh, that's nothing to worry about; there is a catheter inserted into your bladder. We can't have you pee the bed!" Diana laughed and rubbed his arm. She dimmed the lights and stepped out of the room.

"Ohh...I guess...that explains...it." He whispered as sleep claimed him again.

End of Chapter 1

To be continued...



Half the Man Ch. 02



The sun danced between wisps of clouds in the late afternoon sky, its beams following the 'Atlantis Blue' colored sedan down the road and teasingly playing tag with the car's rear bumper. Suddenly the sun's transient playmate turned and the red rear signal blinked farewell. Shadows of trees and buildings enveloped the vehicle as it traveled deep into the complex that was home. The car slowed, pulled into the parking area and came to a gentle stop. The engine silenced and the driver door quickly opened. An excited but queasy young woman got out. She closed the door, dabbed the sweat off her forehead and hurried to the other side.

Mari, hoping to hide her discomfort, took a deep breath and with a cheerful voice opened the passenger door, "Here let me help you my main man." 

She reached inside and firmly gripped his arm. Her stomach churned as she watched him swing his good leg onto the pavement. She readied herself when his arm tensed and tightened her grip when he pulled. A few grunts later he gingerly stepped out of the car.

Dylan, one foot on the ground and steadied by his lovely wife straightened up. He inhaled the fresh early evening air. 

"Man does it feel good to be out of that hospital and back home. I still can't get over how long it took to get me out of there. The entire afternoon wasted because of that paperwork snafu."

"I know. Sorry I screwed up. I don't know why I did that," Mari replied timidly.

He started to frown but stopped as his remaining myriad of stitches, both internal and external, painfully protested. He winced instead and sighed, tired of all the reminders of that fateful day. The young husband set his other foot on the ground and carefully put weight on his leg, the bones reinforced by a single steel rod.

He reached for the back door handle and responded, "I shouldn't have said anything. It's over and done with. I'm just glad to be here." He let go of her arm and opened the car door.

"Dylan! Stop! Don't put weight on your leg; it's barely been three weeks since the accident!"

His brow furrowed and a smaller less painful frown appeared. He pulled the crutches out and asked what he thought was a simple question.

"Sweetheart, remember what the doctor and hospital therapist said about me walking?"

His 22-year-old wife turned away and sighed, "With all that's going on, I have trouble remembering my name — let alone what a doctor said. I've talked with so many different people. Therapists, insurance adjusters, billing departments, finance people, and of course doctors, specialists, internists, and nurses. I feel like my head is spinning and it won't stop..."

Dylan placed the crutches under his shoulders and faced his overwrought wife. He gave a little derisive laugh, "I guess you don't remember."

Oblivious to his little dig she turned away again, her words still pouring out.

"I mean ever since the accident I keep getting phone calls from that woman's insurance company and the mail is always full of business cards from lawyers. I swear the hospital must get a kickback." She paused to take a breath before seeing that Dylan was waiting for her to stop her nervous chatter.

"What were we talking about?" she asked, realizing that she hadn't heard a word her husband had said.

"I asked if you remembered what the doctor and therapist told us."

He took his hand off the crutch gently pulled her chin up and gazed sharply into her blue eyes. Almost immediately her tummy protested and she averted her eyes to avoid the cause of discomfort.

"I...I'm sorry honey, the bandages on your face make me queasy. It really bothered me when I came into your hospital room and...and...you know." 

She choked back bile at the memory. The nurse was cleaning his wounds when she walked in unannounced. She took one look at the swollen mess of jagged stitches, the black and purple blotched skin, the scabs and she ran out of the room retching.

Mari swallowed hard and hurriedly answered him, "No—I don't remember what they said."

He dropped her chin grabbed the crutch hard and hotly replied, "Let me refresh your memory. First, the doctor told both of us that my leg could bear weight if the pain is tolerable and it's for me to decide. The procedure used was designed to keep me walking and hasten my recovery. Second, the therapist said I might have minor problems because my left leg is shorter by a half inch, but they will help me through that. Third, the pelvic x-rays showed only hairline cracks so no issues there. Fourth, I don't need a spleen to live and my abdomen is healing just fine.

"And finally Mari—please pay attention will you? The doctor said in a couple of months they will start plastic surgery on my ugly face—that you have made very, very clear you can't stand to look at — and fix the god damn scars. Got all that?" he finished with a snarl.

"Yes, I got it," was the meek reply as her upset husband headed to their apartment.

Once he was inside her demeanor changed and demonstrating her frustration, she stuck her middle finger up at the closed door, "Fuck you, I don't need this fucking aggravation. Maybe mother was right about you. I mean, first day home—we're not here two minutes, and you bite my head off because I can't remember what doctor number thirteen said! What the hell do you think this is? A test? AND yes, your face is ugly. It makes me fucking queasy."

She finished her solo tirade with a sarcastic, "Sorrry!"

The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she leaned against the blue car. The angry young woman ran her hand along the still open door and took several deep breaths, 

"Ever since the accident it's like he's a different person. I visit him in the hospital and all he says is that I am wrong about this, wrong about that. My mother says 'he's' the one who's wrong. Well fine—now that he's out of that damn hospital he can deal with the insurance companies, the doctors and all the rest of the fucking phone calls." 

She snatched her purse out of the car, grabbed the door and reared back to slam it when her phone buzzed.

"Damn it—not again," she growled as she fished the phone out of her purse. After a quick glance she muttered, "Not now, mother!"

The brief interlude calmed the storminess and a reticent young woman tossed the phone back inside. A few moments later the car door softly clicked closed.

Dinner was surprisingly quiet, neither Dylan nor Mari were in the mood for conversation. Dylan looked at the clock, pushed away his plate, got up and went to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Following a few seconds of impatient searching he called to his wife.

"Mari! Where are my pills?"

Confused she asked, "What pills?" as she cleared the half eaten food and dishes from the table.

Exasperated, he replied, his volume increasing, "The pills from the prescriptions the doctor gave you yesterday. Please don't tell me you didn't get them filled. I only have a few left of two of my prescriptions, and I am completely out of the other four. You knew that."

"Shit, I forgot. I'm sorry!" came her strained reply.

He closed the cabinet door and yelled, "My goodness Mari. Were you always as forgetful as this? I don't get it; what is so difficult about stopping at the drug store to pick up prescriptions?"

Her shoulders dropped and she cringed. His words once again stung hard. She gathered herself and answered back, "I don't know. My mom called and..."

Harshly he interjected, "Stop right there. You don't know? Mari, that's what a child would say. You forgot all about the prescriptions when your 'mommy' called. Nice, real nice. And what kind of pleasant things did she say about me this time?" he asked incredulously. "Never mind, I really don't care to know."

Exasperated, Dylan yelled, "Damn it Mari you have to let go of her fucking apron strings. Her constant interference will ruin us. Mariette if you don't get out from under her control..."

Dylan looked at his wide-eyed wife and halted his attack. His voice still angry he asked, "Do you think you can get those filled for me—if it isn't too much trouble?"

She whimpered under his assault, a child admonished by her father. "I...I'm s...s...so sorry. I'll...I'll head up there right now." 

Dylan shook his head in disbelief. He grabbed the sides of the sink and looked up into the mirror. He didn't recognize the angry menacing golden eyes, and the clenched teeth staring back.

'Who is this person?'

He stared at the reflection of his red face and watched droplets of sweat form on his brow. Underneath the bandages, the face—his face — throbbed and the inside of his cheek blazed hot and painful. Suddenly he realized it was his fury that caused this latest agony. It was self-induced. He had brought on the hurt. At last Dylan heard the pain in his wife's voice, and immediately regretted his angry words. He relaxed, and to his relief the pounding faded.

He calmed himself and called his wife, this time in a reasonable tone of voice, "Mari, sweetheart can you please come back here?"

The bewildered young woman heard the kindly tone and tentatively came to the door. He smiled the best he could and opened his arms to her. She haltingly came to him and rested her head on his chest. Dylan gently and lovingly stroked her chestnut hair.

His voice barely a whisper, "I'm sorry for getting so upset. I guess the medications are affecting me. I finally realized it tonight. I can see now I've been short-tempered and a real jerk. I haven't been able to work out, the therapy sessions for my leg are difficult and I tire easily. Still, it's no excuse for how I've been treating you. I want to apologize for all the shit I've given you and ask your forgiveness. Now that I'm home and you're by my side, hopefully this irritability will lessen."

He held his beautiful wife for several minutes, and when Dylan felt her breathing more regularly he continued, "I know it's not very pretty under these bandages and I do understand my face is hard for you to look at." He paused and then with a chuckle, "It's hard for me too."

He saw a small smile form on her face and continued, "But beneath the covers, it's still 'little old me'. Hmm, speaking of bandages, don't forget to get that stuff on the list they sent home with us as well. Okay?"

She nodded slightly and with a gentle levity teased, "Let's get a few things straight. You were never pretty. Little—yes, old—definitely, but never—pretty."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Thanks a lot. You certainly know how to stroke my ego."

She pulled away and in mock seriousness replied, "Yes I do know how to stroke your ego and—other 'small' things of yours too."

"Ouch! You are so funny," he laughed. "Now that we got the insults out of the way, why don't you head on over to the pharmacy and get the stuff. I'm going to look at the mail, take my meds and lay down for a bit. It's been a long day." 

He thought a second then added, "Oh, pick out a nice cane for me would you? Here's the length the therapist recommended. Nothing pink! Okay?"

Quickly she asked, "What about baby blue?" She got a warm chuckle in response. She took the paper from him, and briefly looked it over. Satisfied she knew what everything was, a seemingly happier Mari picked up her keys to leave. Just as she opened the apartment door the land-line phone rang.

She looked back at Dylan as she stepped out and sarcastically laughed, "You'll have to get that. I'm sure it's for little old you!" and quickly closed the door.

She walked to her car, and whispered to herself, "I hope it's that woman's insurance adjuster so Dylan can have the pleasure of dealing with that jackass."

After a long sigh, "Dylan is so moody I have no clue who is going to show up. Will it be the man I married, or the prick? Lately it's been all 'prick.' Accident or not, I am so tired of his bullshit."

Her cell phone buzzed as she opened the car door. At first she thought it was Dylan, but it wasn't. 

"Hi mom sorry I didn't answer earlier I was helping Dylan get out of ... Yes we finally got home ... No he hasn't decided on the insurance offer ... Uh-huh, I agree I thinks it's fair but he has to decide ... I know I'm his wife, but I can't force him. Hold on let me get in the car." Mari slid into the driver's seat. "Okay I'm back ... yeah, I still get a bit nauseous, but it is getting easier ... Yes, he's still being a real prick, and so damn nasty most of the time too ... Well, I hope these mood swings stop soon ... Mother, enough! I love him. Oh by the way, how is the scrapbook coming?" The conversation continued as she drove off.

When she got back to the apartment it was after 8:00 P.M.. "I have to go; I'm back at the apartment ... I know, I was shocked too, that's why I called back ... I realize if he takes their offer things will get paid, but for now we'll just have to figure it out ... Thanks for listening, love you too Mom talk with you soon." She disconnected and gathered the bags from the passenger seat.

The apartment was quiet when she walked in. The petite 22-year-old placed the items on the kitchen table, pulled out the receipt again and groaned, "I can't get over the cost of these prescriptions. $247 and that's with insurance. Thank goodness for credit cards."

She set the offending paper down and looked at the opened mail. "$50 co-pay, $84.20 deductible, $136.87 deductible, $125 consultation fee, $75 co-pay, $209.46 anesthesia and these are all after our insurance has paid? Holy shit, how are we going to pay for this along with everything else? Because of all the damn hospital visits, my last two checks weren't the normal amount and Dylan won't return to work for probably a week. Shit. Why won't he get off his high horse like my mom said, and call his parents?"

She scrunched her face as she vividly remembered his words, 'Damn it Mari they told me that if I married you they wanted nothing more to do with me. So just because I was in an accident, you think we should call them and ask for help? Hell no. They want it that way so that's the way it is. Deal with it, okay? And don't bring it up again.'

She sighed, "So I can't ask them for help and my mom can't help because she has just enough to take care of herself. Damn, what are we going to do?"

Distraught she slumped down in her chair. "What am I going to do? I can't handle this stress. Shit and double shit. Maybe I should see a doctor. Fuck! And get another bill?"

She started to lay her head on the table when she saw some notes scribbled on the back of an envelope. "What's this?" She studied the notes and laughed, "It was that insurance adjuster, John Quade, who called when I left. Fucking asshole."

Her eyes opened wide as she scanned the envelope. She was awestruck, "Am I reading this right? Quade told me the bimbo's insurance was limited and would probably only pay $10,000 for medical costs. Now it's twenty—five—thousand?"

It felt like all the past troubles melted away in that instant. From below a warmness, all but forgotten, returned as the fires of lust reignited.

She moaned ever so slightly and with a sultry voice, "Wow, is my hunky hubby a great negotiator or what? Take that Quade." She chuckled, "What would Mother say about Dylan now?"

She looked again at the number on the envelope and beamed, "Maybe I can just forget all about his pricky-ness. He did apologize for it, and it sure felt great to be in his arms. It seems now that he's back things are looking up..."

Mari pressed her lean thighs together and squirmed to quench the rising blaze. Her lust had other notions as she huskily continued, "Hmmm...up? He's only been home a few hours but it has been three weeks too—I wonder..."

Her shaved pussy pulsed hotter as sexual images filled her mind. The desire for her long absent husband spread like wildfire and burned the uncertainty from her heart. She rose sensuously from the chair and stood on her tiptoes. She rubbed her sides and stretched her arms high above her head. Long chestnut hair flowed down her back. She kicked off her shoes and the cool floor caressed her hot bare soles. She pirouetted and six buttons later her blouse slipped off her shoulders. She reached behind and with a quick flick the lavender colored bra floated lazily to the floor. The loving wife cupped each breast gave them a gentle squeeze and lifted up both mounds. Thumbs teased each nipple, and she moaned when her small areola puckered with arousal. The cherry tips hardened, and the moisture of love permeated her loins with hunger for her man's cock.

"Mmmm, that feels sooo delicious."

Hands followed the shapely curve of her waist and she slowly slid her pants down to her ankles. With a dancers grace she stepped out, picked them up and brought them to her nose. She closed her eyes and inhaled the dusky aroma her balmy wetness left behind. The chestnut haired beauty parted her legs and felt her engorged clit rub against the saturated thong. With careless abandon she stepped out of her pants and dipped a hand between cloth and skin to search for the nectar of lust. Her finger parted the plump lips and slid into the narrow crevasse that hid the jewel she desperately sought. Hot steamy succulence covered the diamond of the valley and she rolled the slickened fingertip over the pulsing gem.

"Ohhhh, yeah, yeah, mmh, mmh, ahhhh..." She swayed with each stroke then suddenly withdrew her wet finger. Her clit throbbed in protest. She brought the glistening member to her mouth and licked the warm dewy liquid. She hurried to the bedroom and peeked in on the still figure of her man. She pushed her thong down and as she bent down to pick it up a cool breeze caressed her pink rosebud. She moaned with desire. Fingers returned to the steamy valley, pushed open the crevice and entered the humid garden. She slowly withdrew her dampened finger and traversed the short distance to the furrowed hole of forbidden dreams. A drop of dew followed it down the small wet path. She explored the crinkly folds and circled the muscled ring. She found the drop and lubricated the firm opening.

"Ohh Dylan," she moaned as her finger pressed past the outer wall. 

Abruptly the panting woman gasped. With a faint throaty whisper she pleaded at the tranquil form on the bed, "No, don't wake up, not yet, not yet. I need you growing in my mouth first." She crossed her legs to slow the flow of love, and covered her large bosom with her arms.

She listened attentively for five seconds then ten. 'Whew, he's still asleep it must've been my imagination playing tricks. I...I can't wait any longer, I have to taste him.' Her wanton pussy gushed. Anxious to satisfy her carnal craving, she noiselessly entered the darkened room and softly padded to the bed. She dropped her thong and careful not to wake him, or worse hurt him, slowly crawled up by his right side. The horny chestnut haired lovely reached under the covers and desperately searched for the tiny prize that had been denied for so long.

"I found you my small precious. Oh my," she chuckled softly, "your forest needs to be de-thatched."

The blanket was slowly drawn away and when his molehill was revealed she marveled how tiny, how small, how delicious it looked. Imperceptible beads formed on her brow as the erotic volcano erupted. The smoke of arousal wafted through the night air and teased her senses. A soft whimper escaped her mouth at the realization that three weeks of loneliness was about to end. She licked her lips and prepared to quench the raging inferno between her lithe legs.

"Such a little insignificant thing you are, but not for long," she hoarsely said and lowered her head to claim her prize.

She took him in her mouth and buried her nose in his luxuriously thick brown pubic hair. Her tongue swirled his glans, her focus on one thing, 'Come on baby grow for me.' His cock twitched and her nipples hardened. Greedily she sucked his miniscule member and tongued its underside. 




Half the Man Ch. 02



He jerked, and her hand wandered down towards the white-hot nether region. She mewled as her finger found her erect clit, and juices of lust gushed out of her heavenly crevice. 'Come on come on, what the hell is going on? I can feel it move, but it's barely grown.' Frustration was the only thing that grew in her world tonight. Abruptly she removed her mouth and looked at the shriveled offering before her.

Mari touched her husband's penis with a slickened hand. She carefully pulled on him, and let go. She gasped as a bit of white creamy cum oozed slowly from the tip as it withdrew back into the brown forest. 'What's wrong with his cock, it didn't try to grow and it's like he already came. Normally it's at least four inches and swelling fast. I felt it move, I know I did. Damn I was close too, what the hell is going on?' Her thoughts betrayed desperation at what wasn't happening.

"Dylan honey, wake up something's wrong." The worry in her voice grew when the sleeping form did not stir. "Fuck he isn't waking up. Maybe it's not working because of the pills he took. They not only knocked him out but his cock too. Shit."

Mari got up and quickly dressed. She came back to her prone husband, and stared helplessly at the tiny dick she loved so much. She shuddered noticeably as she drew the blanket over him. For some reason she thought of a movie scene where the doctor covers the dead body with a sheet. A tear escaped her blue eyes and she walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen not noticing the growing wet spot on the sheet. 

High on her toes she reached behind a glass in the cupboard and courtesy of her mother pulled out a cigarette and lighter. Full of worry, she opened the patio door stepped onto the grass behind their apartment and headed to the pond. The large orange sun just touched the horizon and the end of day shadows were long. Her hand found the back of the wooden bench and for a few seconds the shaken spouse observed the ducks swim in the calm water. She lit the smoke, took a long drag and immediately coughed.

"Fuck...fuck!" she hacked and with a cry of heartache she threw the smoldering cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out. A mere millisecond later, the lighter flew towards the pond and the tranquility of nature was completely shattered. The ducks startled by the piercing sound and intrusive splash quacked angrily as they flew away.

Mari dejectedly sat on the bench and watched them disappear. The sun's light faded, and it was dusk. She wrung her hands and started to talk, "Fuck all this bullshit with the doctors, insurance, bills, and—Dylan." She paused, and almost crying continued, "I'm upset with the bandages on his face, and then I try to enjoy his lovely little cock and it doesn't work. It's probably the meds, but what about me? I need some loving. Shit, this is all so overwhelming. I wish I had a crystal ball to see what the future holds, because I don't have a clue what to do."

The darkness of despair resonated with the young night's sky, and was soon joined by the rhythmic tap of a familiar beat emanating from her phone.

"Hi, can you talk?"

**

Dylan woke with a start as the morning came all too fast. He looked at the empty spot next to him and wondered where his wife was. "Our first night together in weeks, and she isn't here with me." He sighed and noticed something was amiss. His crotch was damp.

"What the hell, did I piss myself or..." he hesitated, then reached down and suddenly chuckled, "Hallelujah it's alive! Either my long haired beauty had a fun night and decided not to wake me or I had a wet dream." After a brief moment he looked under the covers at his manhood and laughed, "Who cares what happened; welcome back, I've been worried about you."

He sat up slowly and carefully eased his legs onto the cold floor. He reached for the crutches, and saw the cane by the bed-stand. He picked the dark red piece of wood up smiled and set the tip on the floor just like the therapist taught him. Then in one motion pushed off from the bed and headed out.

"Mari, where are you sexy?" he happily called out.

"I'm in the kitchen, having a glass of orange juice." Her reply seemed emotionless and measured.

Surprised by her tone, he quietly entered the kitchen and limped to the table. He set the cane down and sat across from his wife. After a few awkward moments Dylan picked the walking aid back up, "This cane is perfect. Thank you. Hey, I want to say once more how sorry I am for the past few weeks. I shouldn't talk to you like that and I wanted to thank you for last night."

"You're welcome for the cane. You already apologized, and thank me for what?" she asked flatly.

"Don't you know?"

"No, I don't know." She lied not wanting to mention her failure.

Dylan was caught off guard by her curt answer, "Oh it must've been a dream. Never-mind." But as he said it he thought, 'It was a wet dream.'

Mari breathed a sigh of relief and sipped some juice. "Want a glass?"

He shook his head no, "Honey, I still feel bad for the way I've..."

"Dylan," she interrupted, "it's over and done, just drop it. Three weeks ago you were in a bad accident. You went through several surgeries and there are more to come. You are on six different medications, and your body is doing what it can to recover from the trauma. You just got home from the hospital after a lengthy stay. It will take time to get back to normal." Her tone was gentle but firm.

He nodded in agreement, "I guess. Based on the recent past and especially my attitude last night—the doctors were right when they said the meds could alter my mood. I should read what other things may be affected. I certainly don't want any more surprises. Hopefully in a few more weeks I'll be finished with all these damn pills and like you say, we can get back to normal."

She sighed, "I would love that; I'd love that a lot." Then after a brief hesitation she continued evenly, "I see you got the insurance offer up to $25,000. Good job. Are you going to take it?"

"I told Mr. Quade $10,000 wasn't enough and after a several minutes on hold, he jumped it fifteen. I said 'give us a few days to think about it,' and hung up. Honey, I don't think we should take it. I feel like he's rushing us. We still have to find out how much the plastic surgery will cost, and who knows what else could crop up in the meantime. I think we should wait a few weeks before we make a decision."

Worry crept into her voice, "Do you think that's the smart thing to do? What about all the bills we are getting, how are we going to pay for those? Your prescriptions yesterday were almost $250, and it was $42 for the cane plus another $60 for the items the hospital said we needed."

"Everything was that much?" He pondered a bit shook his head and confidently answered, "Once we agree with the adjuster on an acceptable amount the bills will get paid. Until we get there, we will have to fend off the sharks. I don't know how long it will take but we will get there. So, I'm not too worried."

"What if her insurance company withdraws the offer?" Her voice strained to stay calm.

"Hmm, I guess we get a lawyer," he shrugged.

Mari couldn't believe his nonchalance; it was as her mother predicted. Frustrated, she fired back, "I don't know if that's a good idea. I talked with mom last night, and she believes the only thing a lawyer would do is bleed us dry. She said it could be five years before we see any money, and that's only if we win. The bills will keep coming, and on top of that we are paying a lawyer to sit on his ass and collect a...umm what did she call it? Oh a retainer. Then how are we going to fix—I mean pay all these bills?" She hoped he didn't detect her slip.

He frowned noticeably. Her mother butting in again, yet what concerned him more was that Mari seemed to believe everything the woman said, and that was a worry he didn't need.

Dylan took a very deep breath and coolly replied, "I'm not sure if your mother is right or wrong, or somewhere in between. But a lawyer won't get anything unless WE win and I don't think it will take five years. I also think they would advise US on the bills too. WE aren't there yet and hopefully with a bit of luck it won't come to that."

She noticed the coldness in his voice and decided it would be best for now, not to argue. She got up placed the glass in the sink, and gave him a kiss on the top of his head to soothe her agitated spouse.

Dylan's demeanor warmed when he felt her loving touch. He knew what he needed, what they needed — and it wasn't a wet dream.

"I have to get to work. If you want anything, call me" she said as she picked up her car keys. She froze at what she heard next.

"Honey, I know I've only been home a day, but how about some us time this evening? My little soldier needs to give his sexy commanding officer a 21-cum salute."

Nervously she replied, "Exactly Dylan, it's only been a day. I would love to make your soldier stand at attention and have you fill me up. But don't you think we should cool it until you recover a bit more? You can hardly walk, and I doubt you would enjoy it with all those meds you are taking."

He looked at his wife in disbelief, "Cool it? Cool what? It's been three weeks, and I thought it would help us warm up to each other again. Are you still mad at me?"

"I accepted your apology, please let it go. Just give yourself a chance to heal. How about we cuddle for right now?"

Shocked at her lukewarm response he answered dispassionately, "Maybe you're right." Then thoughtfully added with a derisive chuckle, "Who knows with all the meds I'm on it may not even work."

His words brought moisture to her eyes, "Umm, yeah, good point. That's an excellent reason why we should wait. I got to run, bye," and she hurried out.

He watched the door close, and pondered what she had said. "Now that's fucked up. Mari never turns down an opportunity to play in the bedroom. I apologized—I thought she accepted it and forgave me. But now as I think about it: is it my face? Hmm, I wonder if that's the reason she pushed me off?"

It was a perplexed man who got up from the table, found his phone and pushed a few buttons. "Hi Sheila this is Dylan ... Yes, I'm doing okay ... Uh-huh it is good to be home too ... She is doing fine, thanks for asking. Oh by the way, could you thank everyone for the nice get well card, I really appreciated it ... Thanks, is Mr. Kimbridge in? ... Great, yes I'll hold."

After a brief moment, "Dylan, how are you doing son? It's good to hear from you." Peter Kimbridge voice held both concern and elation. "Is there anything I can do to help you out?"

"Good morning Mr. Kimbridge, that's exactly what I want to talk about, sir."

**

Mari walked dejectedly to her car after work. All day the only thoughts she had were on what happened last night, or rather what didn't happen. 'I don't get it. I've replayed it in my mind over and over, it still doesn't make sense. It's been almost three weeks since we last made love. He should have grown into a big oak, not stayed a little acorn. It has to be the meds. What else could it be, who..?'

"Hi Mari! Missed you at lunch today."

Mari yelped at her good friend's voice and almost dropped her bag. "Shit Lynne, you startled me!"

"Sorry I didn't mean too. What's going on? You've been down all day. You were in a better mood the day before yesterday, because hubby was coming home and you hoped the two of you could reconnect. I thought for sure you would be on cloud nine today."

"So did I, Lynne," she replied sadly, and dabbed the moisture from her eyes.

"Aww girlfriend, don't cry. You want to go to the coffee shop at the mall and talk about it?" asked the older woman.

"Yeah, kinda. Let me call home and tell Dylan I'll be a bit late." 

Mari wasn't surprised that he didn't answer. In the hospital he took a nap around this time. She did her best to leave a cheery message on the voice mail.

Lynne took the troubled woman's arm and headed to the shop. "Oh, by the way I'm buying too."

Once inside, Lynne motioned her friend to sit at the table in the corner while she went and got their drinks. After a few moments, the curious coworker set a 'Grande' frozen double chocolate latte in front of her troubled comrade.

"Thanks Lynne, you didn't have too," Mari said as she took a sip of the cold refreshing drink.

"Hon, it was my pleasure. Now what has you so upset?"

Half-an-hour later Lynne sat back in her chair and pondered what Mari told her. She pulled out her tablet and with the assistance of the coffee shop's internet helped put things in perspective for her friend. 

She showed Mari before and after photos of facial surgeries. The young wife was amazed at the results. After that, they researched medications and how these could affect Dylan. Mari was surprised that almost all the drugs he currently took could cause emotional and erectile problems. In fact for four of his prescriptions these were the most frequent side effects. Armed with this new information, she decided it would be best to delay sex until he was almost off most of the meds, especially the 'frightful four' as Lynne and she called them.

The two friends discussed telling Dylan and Mari determined to withhold the information for the time being. They rationalized that he had enough to think about without the added worry of a dysfunctional dick. The wait would be difficult for both, but for now cuddling would have to be enough at least for a few more weeks.

Mari almost choked when Lynne innocently said, "Just think of it as a short term loss for a long term gain."

Lynne startled by her friend's reaction asked what was so funny. Mari held her hands close together then separated them exaggeratedly. Lynne's face betrayed her puzzlement. She watched as Mari did it again.

Suddenly she gave Mari a knowing look and whispered, "It does that? So—he's a grower?"

Mari nodded enthusiastically, and told her friend all about her husband's magic member. When it was time to leave, the young wife's mood had noticeably improved. She gave Lynne a hug thanked her for listening, and for the great advice.

**

"More doctor and hospital bills," she moaned when the envelopes were removed from the centralized mailbox. "Every day this week we've had at least one bill." Mari tossed the letters onto the passenger seat and drove through the complex to their apartment. 

She threw the requests for payment on the table, and hung up her jacket. She went to the bedroom to check on Dylan and was surprised that the room was empty. She slipped off her shoes and rubbed her tired feet through her stockings. Her mind wandered back to the week before the accident when she gave her husband's lovely cock a nylon foot-job. She felt herself moisten as she remembered his pulsing dick spurt rope after rope of sticky cum onto her encased soles and toes. She enjoyed the look on his face when she licked the hot tasty fluid off her foot.

Mari smiled at the memory and reached under the bed for her tennis shoes. She put them on tied her hair into a pony tail, and headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water. As the glass filled she looked out the patio door and saw him sitting on the pond bench surrounded by several ducks. By his left side was his new cane. She filled another glass and strolled out to greet him. The ducks raised their heads at the newcomer. Immediately they waddled to the water and swam away. Mari chuckled and wondered if they remembered her from last night. She walked up behind him kissed the top of his head and offered him the cool liquid.

"Hi sweetheart, how did you do today, did you get my message?"

He turned slightly to his right took the glass and drank in her beauty. "I did get your message and thank you for the drink. I was getting a bit thirsty." He patted the bench with his right hand and when she sat her skirt exposed the lacey tops of her stockings. He felt his cock quiver at the sight then regained focus on what he needed to say.

"I did pretty good overall. I talked with Mr. Kimbridge after you left, explained our financial situation and he will let me come in for a few hours on Monday. If things go well next week, he said I could go full time the following week. I called our auto insurance and we can pick up the rental tomorrow. I agreed to a price for our wreck of a car, the check should be here in a few weeks. The amount will pay off the loan balance, and we will still have enough for a decent down payment on a good used one. The provisions of the policy allow us to keep the rental for 45 days after pick up. So we'll have time to shop around."

She took a sip of water and asked, "That was real nice of Mr. Kimbridge. He's been like a father to you. What about the other insurance company; did you hear back from Quade?"

"No, I figure it will be a few more days," he answered as he gently placed a hand on his wife's left knee, and danced his way up her nylon covered leg.

She chuckled and brushed his hand off just as it passed the stocking top and disappeared under her lilac skirt. Flushed, she pulled it down and said, "Dylan, don't start something you can't finish."

Startled by her reaction, "What do you mean can't finish? My tiny pecker tingled when I heard your voice. Then you sit down and show me some magnificent leg. I almost came without getting hard.

"Come on hon, I know I've been home barely two days, but it's almost been three weeks since the accident. Let's go to the bedroom and play," he huskily finished.

She had prepared for this with Lynne earlier, and in a composed precise voice said, "Trust me sweets, nothing would please me more than to fondle, suck, and feel you grow."

Mari hesitated then continued, "As much as I want to and I really do, I still believe we should wait until you've healed more. You've been through a lot my big man, and I want you at full power when you ravish me. So let's give it a few weeks until you're off some of those nasty meds, okay?"

In a sultry voice she finished, "I'll make it worth your while."

She felt Dylan stiffen and it wasn't his cock but the rest of his body. When he remained silent she became worried, and wondered which Dylan would make an appearance. She flinched slightly when he spoke in a deep firm voice, "Are you sure that is the reason Mari? Are you really sure?" 

Mari puzzled by his words, "Of course I am my handsome stud why else wouldn't I want to enjoy your body?"

She watched her husband grasp his cane and stand with his back to her. He slowly turned and when he faced her, he mournfully asked, "Oh I don't know could it be because of this?"

"Y...you took t...t...the bandages off." Mari grabbed her stomach and turned away from the man she married.

"I'm sorry honey but it's still hard for me to look at your face."

His voice cracked noticeably with his next words, "I was right—I repulse you."

Mari took several breaths and slowly looked up to see her husband walk towards their patio door. She sadly watched as it slid open and with head hung down he stepped inside. Tendrils of guilt replaced the nausea as she grabbed the bench and crawled onto the cold hard surface. The distressed woman lay on the bench for several minutes as the pain in her stomach gave way to the ache of her heart. Mari sat up took out her cell phone and with grim sadness punched in an all too familiar number.

"Hi, I need to talk."

**

Her dejected husband tossed the glass into the kitchen sink and slowly made his way to the bathroom. He stared hard into the mirror and a tear trickled down the ravaged rainbow colored cheek. It didn't hurt much anymore but it was ugly. He felt small insignificant and wondered, 'Why me?'

He shook off the feeling, and remembered Mari's reaction, "I knew it. She won't have sex because she can't stand to look at me. I can't really blame her, but I'm her husband and it shouldn't matter."




Half the Man Ch. 02



He picked up the antiseptic wipes, and bandages off the makeup table and set about dressing the angry wounds. He wiped the jagged line that started just inside the hairline. He gently dabbed the trail and its branches that ended under his jaw and chin. He ran his tongue along the stitches inside his mouth for the thousandth time, and touched his damaged cheek lightly. It was still very swollen, and angry looking. After several seconds he remembered the cream and applied it liberally to the entire left side. Satisfied, Dylan covered up the injured area took his meds and left the bathroom. 

The living room was dark and the television silent. He looked into the kitchen and found the patio door still open. He stepped outside and after his eyes adjusted he saw the glow of her phone at the pond's bench. Anger welled within him, "She's probably talking with mommy dearest. After what happened, I can only imagine the advice Mari is getting." He growled and went back inside.

His mood turned dour and with a long sigh Dylan looked to the heavens, "Shit, it was just three months ago 'that' woman told Mari my job was a dead end and she could do better than me. I wondered why she was so edgy for those few weeks. I didn't hear what that bitch said until after I surprised Mari with flowers to celebrate my promotion. When I told her I got a ten percent raise with another five percent in six months she called her mother."

He hobbled to the bedroom and laughed a sardonic laugh, "After that call, she didn't speak to her for a week. Best week of our marriage."

He lay down on the bed. Almost immediately his revelry was replaced with melancholy, "I hate to admit it and I know she's a bitch, but at least Mari talks with her mom. My parents want nothing to do with me after we eloped."

The medication's grip tightened and his eyelids fluttered closed. Dylan's breathing evened, and the troubled young man fell into a deep sleep.

**

The gentle patter became louder as the snare drum beat intensified. Rain mercilessly hit the window as ominous clouds swirled outside. A brief light illuminated the room followed several seconds later by a distant rumble and a half awake form stirred, but not for that reason.

"Oh yeah, that feels so good. That's it babe rub my cock," he whispered as he sleepily guided his wife's limp hand to his manhood. "Oh god yes, fondle my shaft, tease me love; make me grow big." He wrapped her around his penis and groaned. "Oh yeah baby you did it, I'm huge. Feel my big dick. I...I...can't hold out..."

Another flash, immediately followed by a thunderous ka-boom woke the sleeping pair up.

"What was that noise?" Mari cried and bolted upright in the bed.

"It's just a storm honey just a thunderstorm." Dylan sleepily answered and with a contented yawn stretched his arms over his head.

She chuckled at herself, and rubbed her eyes. Suddenly she screamed and turned the nightstand light on, "What the fuck is this sticky stuff in my eye and on my hand?"

"What-ever are you talking about dear?" he snickered. 

Mari grabbed a tissue, wiped her tearing eye then looked over at her husband. His chest was covered with creamy white, 'Cum?'

She gazed lower and saw more white sticky stuff pooled around his shriveled member.

Puzzled she crossly spouted, "How the hell did you cum? You can't get it up. Your cock hasn't worked since the accident. It's fucking broken." As soon as the words left her mouth, she gasped at their harshness.

Dylan abruptly sat up and asked, "What did you say?" He winced at the sharp pain from his leg and inside his mouth.

She awkwardly replied, "I'm sorry umm, I didn't mean to say it like that." Tears formed in her blue eyes. "Honey y...your...umm manhood isn't working right now, there's a prob..."

"Bullshit, bull-fucking-shit!" he said in disbelief, "Just yesterday morning I had a wet dream. It isn't broke and just a few moments ago you got me hard and I came just as the thunder finished waking us up. I am not broken! In fact I'm ready for round two." He reached for his wife. "It's been three long weeks so wrap those luscious lips around your little toy and..."

She abruptly got off the bed and with tears falling freely the exasperated woman sobbed, "No Dylan I lied to you yesterday morning, I did try that night. I fondled your cock. I sucked and sucked. It didn't respond to anything I did. I got real worried, I tried to wake you but couldn't. When morning came, I didn't want to say anything. After work, I went to the coffee shop and read up on all your medicines side effects. Honey they are preventing you from growing. You'll be okay after you're off a few of the meds, please believe me."

"It wasn't a wet dream? You tried to get me hard, and it didn't work? God damn it Mari you fucking lied to me." Anger coupled with fear gripped him and he trembled, "Fuck, and now your bullshitting me again. You won't try now, because we've been having issues. You are deliberately withholding sex from me. Damn it woman, there's nothing wrong with my dick, and you know it. Here let me show you." He replied defiantly and started to fondle himself.

"It's got nothing to do with the way you look or—our fighting. It...it's the medications. Please believe me," she cried and wiped her tear stained cheeks.

The young man rubbed his penis furiously, but nothing happened. He rolled his fingers over the head and felt all the gloriously wonderful sensations—but still nothing happened. He pulled and massaged his cock. He arched his back and his balls tightened, but his penis stayed flaccid.

He moaned, "I am close and it's not doing anything." He stopped masturbating and heard his wife's loud sob.

Frustration became uncertainty, and that led to a mournful frightened cry. "What the fuck is going on?"

End of Chapter 2

to be continued...



Half the Man Ch. 03



'Half the Man' and its associated chapters is a copyrighted production of Mostera1

Postscriptor edited this chapter.

*****

Chapter 3

"Not that godforsaken buzzing again," he groaned and rubbed his throbbing head. "That's what I get for taking an extra sleeping pill at 1:00 A.M. in the morning. Oh well."

Dylan mumbled a few more irritated words and then hit the snooze button once more. He gingerly rolled over and drifted back to sleep. He dozed until his wife's voice beckoned him to wake.

"Dylan, come on. It was time to get up half-an-hour ago." The anxiety and frustration was very evident in her voice as it had been for the past few weeks. This particular morning, it was palpable.

"If you don't get out of bed now you'll be late for work; and don't forget you have a doctor's appointment too!"

"Alright, ALL-right!" Dylan snapped as the alarm sounded again. He threw off the covers punched the off button and reached for his cane. He got up, unaware of the tears that fell from his wife's eyes because of his latest outburst and limped into the bathroom to empty his bladder.

He looked down at his withered member as the stream started and acerbically hollered, "Mariette! Hurry! Come in here. Its itty-bitty just the way you love it. Don't you want to try and make it grow? Remember what the doctor said, 'at first you don't succeed try and try again.'" He paused for effect then with extreme sarcasm, "Oh shit 'honey' never mind, don't bother yourself, I forgot I'm a..."

"Dylan!" Mari's strained cry interrupted him, "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I got upset. We can talk about it later."

"Certainly dear, but do remember it is 'doctor's orders.'" His voice mocked hers, and under his breath he muttered, "After last night's debacle I'm going to have a long talk with Dr. Fryman today." 

He bitterly flicked the remnants of urine off his penis, tucked it in, and began talking to himself. "Yeah sure doc, you did say these things can take time after a trauma but 'don't worry it will get better.' Shit. It's been weeks and still nothing. A 24-year-old with the dick of a 90-year-old fart.

"Damn it!" he cursed with clenched fists, "even after going off one of the meds I can't get the fucking thing to grow—not a millimeter, not one fucking millimeter."

Disappointment didn't begin to describe his feelings as he looked down. Disgust was the more appropriate term. During his teenage years he called his cock 'his little soldier' because it didn't take much for it to 'snap to attention.' It stood straight and proud, and was hard as steel. Now it cowered from its duty; it retreated into the camouflage of his pubic hair and refused to follow orders.

His anger turned to sadness as he thought back to the night before. 

"What a nightmare," he told himself, "even Mari couldn't bring it to life. Damn, between the pink teddy, stockings and heels she wore you'd think she could raise the dead. Lord when she put her lips on me and started to suck, oh god I was home again and how her tongue teased me — but nothing...nothing happened," he cried. "It stayed practically as small as the cork from the bottle of wine we had with dinner."

He wiped a tear off his damaged cheek and felt his body stiffen with rage, "I knew Mari was getting irritated, upset, or whatever. When she suddenly clamped down hard and her teeth nipped me I yelped, 'Take it easy!' Fuck, did she get pissed.

"I doubt I'll ever forget her snarky comeback: 'Aww did I hurt the wittle boy? What are you, a fucking...?'" He stopped and shuddered, "No, I still — can't — say — it, I won't—say it."

Rage, melancholy, and distress collided in his bewildered mind. He ran fingers through his hair and sat down on the toilet seat to pull himself together, but couldn't. The events from last night kept going around in his head.

"Why did she say that?" he trembled at the memory.

He remembered getting up and stalking off. Mari was yelling she was sorry and didn't mean it. He ignored her cries, slammed the door and found himself once more inside the only room with a lock. Suddenly, it was 1:00 A.M. in the morning; almost three hours had passed.

"She didn't even bother to check on me," he recalled and then paused, "But I guess that was a good thing. I was in no mood to fight anymore."

It was then he made the decision to take an extra sleeping pill before heading back to bed. His heart sank when he opened their bedroom door. He thought for sure she would be awake and upset. Instead he found his loving wife curled up and sound asleep. 

He crawled into bed and before he too fell asleep, he had silently wondered,  'Do I mean that little to her?'

He awoke from his memories and sarcastically laughed, "Oh wow, I didn't realize I made a funny. I'm 'little to her.'"

He chuckled for a few seconds then discovered his earlier headache was all but gone. "Thank God for 'small miracles.' Oh hell yeah I'm on a roll now."

Still tired, he closed his eyes as the emotional roller coaster took another twisted turn. Dylan slowed his breaths and wondered where she learned that word,  'I bet she doesn't even know what it means, so how...' his eyes snapped open with a sudden epiphany — he knew who told her. It was obvious. Her mother did. "Of course, that's who," he exclaimed. "That meddlesome bitch is always pulling on Mari's strings, and filling her head with garbage, damn it. More and more it feels like two against one, and I'm the odd one out."

He glanced at the clock and quickly stood. "Shit, no time for a shower now. That'll be two days in a row. Why not add a little more drama to the Hunt household, and I'll be damned if I'm going to say anything about last night. Let her sweat."

The troubled young man stared into the mirror and his mood quickly swung to melancholy. He looked at his reflection as if it were the face of a stranger and softly spoke to it, "It's been a month-and-a-half since the accident, and I still don't recognize you. I don't know who you are anymore." His eyes filled with tears as they trailed down the reflection and he lightly touched the four-inch scar on his soft abdomen.

"Amazing. Down there all that's left is a delicate pink line. Why can't my face be that easy?" He shook his head and looked at his belly, "Well, at least I can fix that, once I get the 'all clear' to work out."

The young husband winced when he moved his left leg and groaned as he flexed his hip, "Damn they say the pelvic cracks are minor and nothing to worry about, but shit, that hurts." Carefully he set his left heel on the toilet seat and stretched his surgically repaired limb. He grimaced as his fingers crawled down the top of his leg towards his toes. The back of his thigh screamed for mercy.

"Fuck," he exclaimed, "Will—it—ever—get—any easier? Ughhhh!" Carefully he placed his foot back onto the floor and straightened up. "It's ridiculous how losing a half-inch off your leg can screw everything up." He wiped the sweat off his brow. There was a soft knock as he reached for his cane.

"You okay in there?"

"Yeah, I'm just stretching," he groused at the unseen voice, "Give me a minute, will you?" The angry young man put on deodorant as the footsteps faded. Alone once more he yanked open the door, hobbled to the bedroom and dressed for breakfast and the day.

***

"Cereal again—oh this is just wonderful. You know dear, it would be nice if you got some fruit or yogurt. I'm tired of eating this crap every morning," he loudly complained to his partner across the table.

The frazzled woman shuddered at his tone and lowered her head. Following last night she didn't want to look at the angry jigsaw puzzle that was Dylan's face. After a brief hesitation she found her voice, "If you would just go shopping with me that would help and the walk would do you some good."

"What?" he countered brusquely, "You want me to go shopping with you? How thoughtful. Gee, I didn't think you wanted to be seen in public with 'little old me'."

She looked up with wet eyes, "Dylan, that's not true. I...I am not ashamed to be seen with you." She paused wiped her eyes, and continued, "I...I'm so sorry for what I said last night. You're not a ..." She gasped when his spoon fell.

After a tense moment the trembling woman haltingly started again, "Y...you know as well as I do how hard—shit, sorry. What I mean is well it...it's been difficult since your accident—really difficult. I let my emotions get the best of me last night. Dylan, baby, I'm frustrated too. I...I only wanted to show you how much I love you, how much you really mean to me."

Aware his wife wouldn't look at him, he bitterly replied, "How much I mean to you? Don't make me laugh. You dressed the part, and acted like I meant something. But when 'nothing' happened what did happen—Mari?"

Mari stuttered, "Dylan I...I..."

"Damn it Mariette, WHAT happened?" he screamed.

"I...I...c...c...called you...a..." Mari shot out of the chair and ran out of the kitchen crying.

His voice broke noticeably when he finished her sentence, "A eunuch. You called me a eunuch."

Dylan scrunched his shoulders when the bedroom door slammed. "That went well," he whispered.

The moody husband sighed, pushed the soggy cereal away and smirked, "At least she didn't say anything about me not taking a shower."

He finished the juice and stared intently at the remnants of pulp that clung to the sides. "Just like my face, bits and pieces of soft tissue held together with superglue."

He picked up the bowl and glass and shuffled to the sink. He set them down and put his hands on the counter. A tear fell, "Why do I act like that? Yes, she called me a eunuch. Yes, it hurt, and it certainly pissed me off. But it's not that simple. Hell, I know she's discouraged, and I can't blame her, so am I." He pondered a bit, "All the bullshit and frustration is ripping us apart. So what do we do now?"

"Not only does our sex life suck we are getting further behind with the bills. Maybe Mari and that bitch are right perhaps we should take the settlement money offered, be done with it and move on. What the hell am I accomplishing by dragging it out anyway? I don't know much about insurance but every time I say no, that asshole Quade calls back in two days with a higher amount. Shit, $55,000 is a lot of money, but he said it was their final offer. Should we get an attorney? I mean what more can we gain from suing?"

He reflected on the recent past, "We're lucky Peter allowed me to come back to work early and generously gave us a no interest loan to help out. Even with his kindness, because Mari had to miss so much work we are in a world of hurt. The money from the insurance settlement will help and there should be plenty left over to reconstruct my face."

He thought pensively for a brief moment then slammed the counter, "Damn it that daughter of a bastard ruined everything cause she was on her fucking phone texting her girlfriend! She doesn't even get hurt! It's not my fault, and I end up like this? It isn't fucking fair. Why shouldn't we try and get more? Screw their offer! I'm going over the business cards I got at the hospital and in the mail and choose a lawyer!"

Dylan limped back, sat down at the table and practiced again the calming techniques taught by his therapist. He looked at the wall when he finished and saw the pictures taken in Las Vegas. He stopped at one in particular. It was inside the wedding chapel, a newly married couple beamed as they held their freshly lit unity candle standing next to—Elvis. Dylan smiled caringly, "Look at us. So happy, but now—after all that's happened..." He paused and reflectively gazed out the window, "Fuck it, even if she did make my blood boil, I shouldn't have been so nasty. But after all this, I wonder if I really knew what I was doing back then, do I know what I'm doing now and do I even know her?"

He took a deep breath rose carefully from the table and turned toward the bedroom. His cane made a distinctive thunk on the hard floor. He heard soft sobs inside and lightly rapped on the door. In a peace-making voice, "Mari, I'm sorry for being such an ass this morning. I know it's been very nerve-racking trying to figure out all this shit. Between the bills, doctors and why umm, it isn't working; I guess it would be more of a surprise if we didn't fight. Anyway," he stopped and fought back the tears, "I...I...I forgive you for what you called me last night, and won't bring it up again, and I'll work on my temper. Let's get past this, okay?"

He waited a few moments and heard a soft whimpering, "Okay."

He watched the clock and after one minute, "Sweet heart—maybe the doctor will have some good news at my appointment today. Do you want to come with me?" His voice was tinged with sadness at the hurt he caused her.

"If I could I would. Good luck at the doctors." was her choked reply.

He lowered his head, dragged his hand down the closed door and stoically said, "It's alright, I understand. Thanks for the luck. I have to get to work. Be safe driving; love you." He turned wiped the tears, and quietly left.

***

The blinds were open just enough so she could see the parking lot from the bed. Mari twisted wet tissues in her hand and sympathetically watched him struggle to get in the rental car. She winced at his grimace when his leg caught on the door. She found herself breathing with him as he took several short breaths to psyche himself up for what came next. She silently cheered when he grabbed his pant-leg and pulled his injured limb inside. She chuckled at his ingenuity as he used the cane to pull the door closed. 

When the car was out of sight, Mari dabbed her eyes and gathered the used tissues from the bed. Her hands full, she got up, dumped the wet mess into the bathroom wastebasket and looked at the mirror. She was afraid of what she saw. It wasn't the tear stained cheeks or the mussed eyeliner that scared her. It was the young woman who stared back that frightened her. She sat down at the makeup table and pulled out a fresh tissue and dabbed her eyes.

"Why did it have to go all wrong last night? It should have been magical. His eyes burned through my teddy as soon as I walked in the bedroom. He was so hot for me and me for him. But he was also worried and scared. Almost like a little kid at a haunted house. I could sense it." Her mind flew back to the previous night.

***

Mari looked hungrily at her husband as he lay on the bed. She sensuously sauntered over, kicked off the high heels and teasing Dylan, slowly released her luscious full breasts from their prison. She saw his eyes widen when she curled up alongside him and began rubbing his leg with her stocking clad foot. She gently kissed his good cheek and felt him relax. 

Tantalizingly slow she inched the sheet down and tongued his nipples. She got a low guttural moan from him for her efforts. Eagerly the sheet was pulled completely away and the horny mistress licked her lips at the sight of his little soldier ready for her to command. The seductress leaned down and kissed the small gorgeous piece of prime male; the second her lips touched him, his cock twitched noticeably. Her loving husband stiffened and she felt it move. The excitement drenched her bare pussy and the anticipation of making him swell drove her wild. Hungrily she sucked him into her mouth. The short-lived excitement was replaced with anger. She couldn't believe it,  'This can't be happening again,' she thought and in her brief rage she accidentally nipped him. He yelped, and in her fury she called him 'a eunuch.'

***

Mari wrung the shredded tissue in her hands. "A few months ago I craved his tiny dick. Shit, I longed to make it grow big and hard, but now..." The miserable woman turned back to the mirror and watched the tears fall in her reflection. 

"Damn it, I know I shouldn't have gotten irritated when he didn't swell, but I couldn't help it. I lost control—still that's no reason to get mad at him. It's not like he isn't trying. I didn't mean to rake my teeth, and I shouldn't have said those things. But here we are fighting again." She sniffled, "I can't make him grow. I've all but forgotten what it's like to have a fat hard hot juicy cock pumping inside me. The vibrator doesn't do it for me anymore. I can't get any satisfaction."

"Shit!" she cried and used the remnant of tissue to wipe the wet stains off. "No more. No—more. I can't do this it's so unfair; I'm too fucking young to be going through this crap." Her tantrum done, she threw the tattered tissue away, fixed her make-up and left the bathroom to get dressed for work.

Mari, still feeling dejected, closed the apartment door. She just pulled the key out when her phone rang. "Hi mom ... Uh-huh we had another fight ... No it's still not working. I wish I never told you about his problem and I certainly didn't need to hear that word ... What word? 'Eunuch' damn it, I got upset and called him that ... Stop laughing, he isn't ... No I won't believe that; I can't believe that. He will get better ... What do you mean if he doesn't ... What are you suggesting? ... I will not do that mother. ... Consider it? Are you kidding me? Perhaps Dylan is right about you. Look I have to get to work, goodbye."

She pressed the off button so hard her thumbnail broke, "Damn it, nothing's going right."

Agitated and upset Mari felt inside her purse and pulled out an emery board. She began to file the ragged edge and contemplated what her mom said,  'I hadn't thought about what would happen if he doesn't get better, I just assumed he will.' She bit her lip and remembered earlier words,  'I can't get any satisfaction—I'm too young—I've forgotten what it's like.'

She thought again how it never once crossed her mind that Dylan wouldn't get well—until her mom mentioned it. She wondered if Dylan was right, that her mother was trying to break them up. She pushed that silly notion from her head. Mari felt she was being pulled in two directions at once. On one side was her husband, on the other her mother. She didn't know what to do. She sighed loudly, put the emery board away and started the car. The brooding wife drove to work with a heavy heart and confused mind.

The hours at work, as so many others before, passed slowly for her sad soul. Even her friend Lynne couldn't console her. Finally the long day ended and soon she was home. Surprised Dylan wasn't there, Mari walked to the pond, took her shoes off, sat on the bench and curled her legs up. She stared at the serene water and hoped the gentle motion would soothe the ache in her heart. She remembered the first time they met and all the fun they had. Life was so carefree. The initial months as husband and wife were all she had hoped for. Then it all went to hell. Since his accident, it had been one crisis after another.

Once again she contemplated what her mother said, 'What if he doesn't get better Mariette? What if he can't fulfill his husbandly responsibilities anymore? You just turned twenty-two. Do you want to spend the rest of your life with a eunuch?'

A loud vibrant voice woke the chestnut-haired beauty from her musings, "Mari, there you are! I've got great news, no, better than great—FANTASTIC NEWS."

Mari sat up and put her feet down. She looked at Dylan's excited face and was surprised she didn't shudder. His golden eyes and large smile shined brighter than the carnage caused by the myriad of angry scars. Buoyed, she smiled back and animatedly asked, "What news is that Dylan?"

Dylan sounded jubilant as he relayed the news from the doctor visit. "Dr. Fryman examined me and was so pleased with my progress he stopped the Indo, shit...oh hell, Indo metha'something. We discussed the timetable to start plastic surgery and at the end of the appointment, before I could say anything, he asked if I was still having issues in the bedroom. I gave an emphatic, 'YES' and pleaded for help. He looked at my chart, made a few notes and told me he had something that should be of assistance."




Half the Man Ch. 03



Mari sat up straight at the incredible news and anxiously asked, "You're kidding me Dylan? He did? What is it? Tell me honey, tell me!"

The young man smiled broadly, "I'll do you one better," he reached into his pocket and tossed a small rectangular packet of blue pills to his keyed-up wife. "The doctor said these would raise the dead."

She caught the packet and immediately recognized what it was. Her pussy moistened and she coyly inquired, "Only three?"

Dylan laughed, "I asked the same thing and..." the ecstatic young man pulled out another sample packet and waved it at his smiling wife. "Voila! Three more pills."

The previous week's difficulties became a distant memory as heated lust consumed the couple. The anger, the hurt, the name calling, all of their problems faded into oblivion. Deliverance had come in the form of six blue diamonds. The time for words was over. It was time to get physical.

Mari was thrilled as she stood up, walked the short distance to her man and wrapped an arm around him. She easily looked past the damage and gazed into his golden eyes full of hope and desire. Her lips met his as she snatched salvation from his hand. With both packets in her control, she released her grip and stepped back. Dylan watched expectantly as his lovely wife slid one package into her cleavage as the other found a home deep inside her thong. She turned, picked up her shoes and wiggled her ass invitingly. A soft moan escaped her throat when strong hands grasped each cheek and squeezed. Flushed with desire she ran to their apartment. Before entering, she looked back and licked her lips. Hubby was hot on her trail.

Inside she dropped her shoes, kicked off her pants and filled a glass with cool water. Hurriedly she fully unbuttoned her blouse, jumped on the counter and waited. Dylan hobbled in and stared at the vision before him. Mari on the counter top, legs crossed toes pointed down demurely holding a glass. Her blouse opened temptingly as a packet peeked out from between full breasts. Her tiny nipples strained against the silky bra. She shifted position and sensuously spread her legs. His cock prickled when he caught a glimpse of the second packet peeking out the sides of her thong. His horny mistress set the glass down, crooked a finger and beckoned him come. Dylan moved in front of his sexy lady. She took one of his hands, gave it a kiss and placed it above her cleavage. She took his other hand, kissed it and laid it above her belly button.

His hand glided down her chest and when he caressed her silk clad breast she threw her head back in rapture. He sucked on her exposed neck, palmed the engorged nipple and deftly extracted the precious cargo. He looked her in the eye as his other hand circled her navel and slid beneath her waistband. He ignored the diamonds and found instead the precious jewel of Paradise. He skillfully parted her hairless crevice and teased her clitoris. She squirmed. He grasped the nub and lightly tweaked it. Mari's breathing quickened and she lay back, opening her legs further. Dylan ignored the obvious invitation and plucked the packet out. She sighed at the loss of stimulation and casually wiped the dewy sweat from her forehead.

Mari surprised him when she seized the packets. Quickly she opened one and removed a pill. With the reverence of Holy Communion she placed the pill on her worshippers tongue and gave him water to sip. Her eyes hooded with mounting hope as he swallowed the 'raiser of the dead.'

Sexily, she slid off the counter and tenderly whispered, "I know it's been two days since your last shower. May I have the pleasure of cleaning you?"

He nodded and kissed her chestnut hair. Lustfully she took his hand and together they entered the bathroom. Mari set the two packets on the makeup table and quickly shed her clothes. She smiled as Dylan frantically undressed. She turned the water on and entered the shower followed by her anxious man. A washcloth was soaped up and the cleansing began. She tenderly washed his arms and neck then poured soap on his chest. She crushed herself into him and sinuously danced against his body. Dylan moaned, reached around his hot woman and his strong hands caressed the small of her back. He found her firm curvy butt cheeks and lifted her towards the heavens.

Immediately he winced and hurriedly set her down as sharp pains raced down his bad leg.

The mood momentarily broke, "You okay? I felt you tighten up?" she asked with a concerned voice.

"Yeah, I was so into you that I forgot myself — I still have some limitations. I'm so horny, and...and..." He abruptly turned his head and sneezed. "Where did that come from?" he chortled.

Mari laughed, "You probably got some water up your nose silly."

Dylan snorted, "Yeah, I guess that's why all of a sudden I feel a bit stuffy." He looked at her firm nipples and in a deep nasally voice, "Now where were we?"

With one hand he grasped a breast, as the other snaked behind once more. He leaned down took the turgid nipple between his teeth and nibbled ever so softly. His mouth busy, the hot young male deftly reached for her other tip and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Oh that feels so nice my strong man. Oh yeah don't stop sucking. Mmmm, I love what your hand is doing to my ass. Such a wonderful massage," she mewled and rotated her hips in response.

Well lubricated and ready for a hard cock, she pushed him back beneath the waterfall and lathered up her hands. She reached down and grasped him. For a brief anxious moment she thought, 'It seems lifeless.'

Suddenly it jerked, and with new enthusiasm she soaped and caressed his flaccid shaft. Deftly she reached under his scrotum and teased the perineum with her index finger.

His knees buckled as her finger found his muscled ring, "OHHHH godddd baby! That feels so wonderfully nasty."

She eased onto her knees and faced him. His still small penis jumped and twitched mere inches from her wet lips. His moans of pleasure filled the shower, her eyes widened with lust and her pussy ached to be filled. Confidence bolstered, her finger stayed poised at the dark entrance. Hungrily she opened her lips and inhaled the head of his penis. With him firmly inside her warm mouth she pushed past his sphincter and plunged deep inside his ass.

Dylan immediately bellowed and—spurted. Stunned by the surprise explosion, Mari gagged and pulled away. She watched several globs of cream squirt from his still soft cock to the shower's floor and swirl down the drain.

Anguish in her tone betrayed the anger inside, "What the fuck was that? You didn't get hard and then you spew all over the place? Why didn't you tell me you were close, I could've backed off and given your cock a chance to grow." She measured her voice not to repeat last night's disaster.

"Fuck Dylan. Now what?" complained the very disappointed woman.

"I'm sorry honey," he panted. "When you stuck your finger in my ass, and sucked I couldn't hold back. But don't worry — I'm so horny I know I'm good for at least two more rounds. Let's finish up our shower, and I'll take another pill. Then we can play on the bed. I'm sure I'll get it up with two pills in me." He snuffled, and wiped his itchy nose. "Please?"

Her eagerness somewhat lessened, Mari nodded in agreement. They showered in silence and toweled off. His cock buzzed and tingled as he watched her supple ass swish out of the bathroom, but it didn't enlarge. Frustrated he picked up two blue diamonds washed them down with water and disgustedly threw the empty packet into the trash.

***

Mari half smiled and pulled the sheet back when Dylan limped into their bedroom. He set the cane down and scooted next to her. She motioned for him to lie on his back and propped a pillow under his head. She lightly kissed his good cheek and tasted salt.

She looked and saw his face was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Mari not sure what was going on and started to say something when he pulled her down and kissed her. She immediately broke the kiss and danced her tongue up his right cheek. When she reached his ear the horny hot wife whispered authoritatively, "Remember who is in charge. Close your eyes and think nasty thoughts."

Without a word he did as directed. She reached down and started to manipulate him. There was no foreplay, no sexy words, no playing. This was business. He raised his arms above his head and sighed with pleasure. After five long minutes he twitched, jerked, and began breathing heavy. His skin flushed noticeably and his hips began pumping in rhythm with her hand.

'Close again, but no growth,' she sadly thought, 'Nothing. No—the head seems a bit bigger and it is purple in color which is normal. Hmm, his face is red. That's strange. But stranger yet is why aren't these 'magic' pills working?' She finished with disgust.

Discouraged and upset she released the tiny nub and asked, "It's not growing Dylan. What should we do now?"

He sat up, gasped for air and rubbed his eyes. "I...I...I...don't know." He wheezed, and lay back down.

"Are you okay? You're face is flushed, and you seem out of breath."

He squinted at her, "I think so, must be coming down with a cold. My head is really plugged and my nose is itching. Could you turn the light off its pretty bright in here."

"The light is off. Your eyes were closed while I was trying to get you hard, they'll adjust." She paused and without emotion asked, "Obviously the pills aren't working so what happens now big man?"

His eyes narrowed, "Not sure. My dick is so tingly and sensitive. It wants to swell, but won't. I don't get it, these pills were supposed to 'raise the dead'. Damn! I'm so tired of this bull..." Dylan reached for a tissue and blew his nose. "...Shit. Hmm, I wonder if the pills are old. Maybe I should take another one. What do you think?" he rasped and struggled again to sit up. He neglected to mention he had taken three already. 

"Fine," was her terse reply before she turned and headed to the bathroom. 

Mari returned, sat next to him and handed him a glass of water with two pills. "Where did you set the opened packet? I couldn't find it. Anyway, I looked at the other box and the expiration date is next month, so maybe you're right about not having enough potency. I brought an extra one, might as well go for broke," she snickered.

He ignored her question, and wiped the sweat off his brow. He took the two diamonds and with a sip of water swallowed them. She took the half empty glass, set it down on the nightstand and got up.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she said curtly. "Why don't you try and get hard, while I'm taking care of business, okay?"

"I didn't catch what you said. Can you," he turned his head and loudly sneezed, "repeat that?" he asked, and wiped his ticklish nose.

"Never mind, it's not important, I'll be back in a few."

"Yeah sure, fine," he answered between another sneeze and cough.

She closed the bathroom door, 'That's just great he's coming down with a cold which is probably why the 'raiser of the dead' isn't working. If it isn't one thing it's another'.

Her head jerked when she heard a muffled thump followed by the sound of glass breaking. Hurriedly she opened the door and rushed into the bedroom.

"Oh my god, oh my god, Dylan!"

***

Beep...beep...

'Th...th...that sound, I recognize it,' he thought as the shroud of darkness slowly lifted. Still very groggy, Dylan lay quietly and tried to piece together what happened.  'Mari went to the bathroom—I reached for the glass of water and...and...now I'm back in the hospital?'  Confused by this revelation, he struggled to clear the dense fog and suddenly became aware of voices. No a voice. It was—Mari. He sleepily opened his eyes and looked towards the sound.

"Hi."

"Mom I got to go, Dylan woke up ... No I got this. Love you, bye." She placed the phone in her purse, and sat down next to the bed. Anxiously she fidgeted with his bedding then after a breath in a tense voice asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Huh? Tell you...tell you what?" he replied haltingly, not yet fully awake.

The pitch of her voice went up by an octave, "I just spent the last hour getting my ass reamed by Dr. Fryman because you neglected to tell me his instructions on how to use the pills." She paused to keep her emotions in check, "The maximum dosage is 100mg per day. Each pill was 50mg. Dr. Fryman told you to take one pill and if it didn't work, to call him and he would contact a urologist. Do you remember him saying that?" Her anger surged.

Stunned by her fury he groggily replied, "Umm, all I could think about when he handed me the packets was this was our salvation, that's it. I'm not sure about the rest."

"Not sure? Not sure?" Mari's eyes flared as tears fell from them. "Damn it Dylan you took five pills, not one, five fucking pills. You overdosed. The stuffy head, flushed face, and bright lights were all side effects. Your blood pressure dropped so low you passed out. So here we are in the hospital again. The cardiologist said you'll be fine and can go home later today, but guess what? More bills, more debt. You know, I really wish you would settle with Quade so we can get on with our lives." The anger consumed her to the point that she didn't care about his face, his dick, or anything else. She wanted it over.

Surprised by her harshness and now very awake, Dylan fired back, "I didn't think about the consequences when I took all those pills. All I could think about was making love to my hot wife. It backfired and I am truly sorry for causing you more misery, I really am. I just wanted to hurry up and get things back to normal." 

He paused, "Regarding Mr. Quade and his offer. No, I'm not accepting it. That bitch got off without a scratch. I'm going through hell. So screw her, screw Quade, and screw the insurance company. I'm getting a lawyer to handle that fucking insurance adjuster, whether you like it or..."

The angry woman stood and stomped her foot, "A lawyer? When did you decide that and when were you going to tell me? And as far as screwing, I hope you have more luck with them than you do with me."

Dylan abruptly sat up and was about to tear into her, when a loud knock stopped him. A fairly young doctor came into the room and in a calm confident strong voice said, "Mr. Hunt, Mrs. Hunt my name is Dr. Harb, Dr. Fryman wanted a urological consult on what 'isn't' happening. I am very confident I can help you."

Immediately the two combatants forgot their fight and listened attentively to this new potential savior.

"First, you were very lucky—very lucky, Mr. Hunt. Based on your symptoms, I think it's possible you had an allergic reaction to the medication and you sir are very fortunate there was no cardiac damage." The two looked sheepishly at each other as they had momentarily forgotten they were in the 'cardio' section of the hospital's emergency room.

Suddenly the door flew open and a nurse rushed in. She saw the doctor and realized that her soon-to-be discharged patient was okay. She gave Dylan a quick once over and as she left, Dr. Harb thanked her for her diligence.

He turned back to the dumbfounded couple and with steel eyes looked directly at Dylan, "Like I said, you were very lucky."

The doctor's stare was intense and Dylan turned away in shame. The physician continued, "Dr. Fryman briefed me on the auto accident, and your erectile problems. Has anyone sat down to explain what could be happening?" Both shook their heads no.

"That's not surprising, most people assume that if there isn't any visible damage then all is well. So the question is: can a car accident cause erectile dysfunction? Well Mr. and Mrs. Hunt, the simple answer is: yes."

The young couple uneasily looked at each other then back at the bubbly doctor.

"Let me explain. An erection is a complex event that is dependent on a fully functioning nervous system and blood vessels. Any trauma to a man's body, in particular to his head, neck, back or pelvis, can interfere with the normal flow of blood and neurological impulses that are necessary to achieve and maintain a solid erection. Most men assume that unless they actually injure their penis or groin area that whatever injuries they sustain will not interfere with the ability to get an erection. The reality of the situation is that many injuries, even minor ones, can cause erectile dysfunction and other male sexual dysfunctions."

You, my friend, suffered trauma to the pelvis. Although the damage appeared minor, there is a good possibility it could be the cause of your problem. Worth checking into don't you think?" Both Dylan and Mari nodded in agreement.

"From what Dr. Fryman reports Mr. H...umm, Dylan, you have excellent sensation is that correct?"

"Yes, the feeling hasn't changed."

"Great. What I would like to do is a CT angiography, and venogram along with an MRI. Now, because you have a large chunk of metal in your leg we had to verify its compatibility with those procedures. Certain metals heat up due to magnetic induction. I wanted you to know yours won't. Do you understand?"

Dylan nodded yes. Dr. Harb smiled and continued, "The first two tests are contrast studies of the circulatory system to see if the blood is flowing properly. The latter will show if there are other abnormalities. Based on your symptoms, I am certain lack of circulation is the problem. If so, then surgery will fix it in most cases. Does all this make sense?" he asked addressing the couple together.

Mari dotingly took her husband's hand and asked, "What if you find the blood flow is normal, what then?" Dylan looked at his wife a bit surprised at the well-conceived question.

"Mrs. Hunt, I am already 99% certain that poor circulation is the cause. The correct question is not what is wrong, but 'where is the problem'? Once the tests are done, I will know where the damage is and determine the best course of action. Whether it is surgery or..."

The doctor's cell phone interrupted their talk. It was the hospital emergency room. He apologized gave them a card instructed them to call and set up the tests. After he left the room, Mari turned towards Dylan kissed his cheek and whispered an apology for her hurtful words. Dylan in kind also apologized for not listening to Dr. Fryman when he got the pills and springing his intention to go to a personal injury lawyer, rather than to just settle with the company, on her.

Mari leaned in and hugged her husband. Dylan asked his chestnut haired beauty about her question. She smiled, "I thought back to the day in the coffee shop, and remembered reading about physical injuries. I just didn't put it together until now. Stupid, huh?"

He chuckled, and gave her a light kiss. "No not at all. You understand that this will cost more money?"

"Yes, but if he determines the accident caused it, then that bitch's insurance company should pay, which is why..."

Dylan interrupted, "Which is why I want to get a lawyer. I think Quade is trying to pull a fast one on us."

"I guess that makes sense, but I'm worried if it is the right decision," she replied thinking about what her Mom told her.

Dylan pulled his wife to him and looked into her beautiful blues. She became aroused by his strong reassurance and gently touched his damaged cheek for the first time. They were about to make out when the same nurse from earlier walked in with Dylan's discharge papers.

***

The new day had started with great promise and the young couple sat in the exam room looking forward to the doctor's good news. After Dylan returned home from his overdose, the pair tried not to get so angry and work better together. Unfortunately it was more like an uneasy truce than a permanent peace.

Dylan, although stressed by the situation, was able to remain calm. He decided it would be best to wait on getting a lawyer until after they learned the test results. Mari thought it best not to tell her mother about that tidbit. Their conversations, as it were, had centered too much on his sexual shortcomings. The young wife felt her mother's pull and once again began to shrink away from the man she married. Dylan sensed the change in Mari and prayed the test results would herald the end of their sexual worries and usher in a new beginning of hope, salvation, and promise.




Half the Man Ch. 03



Instead the mark of the beast reared its ugly head once more.

"Whoa! Stop right there. What do you mean surgery to repair the blood vessels isn't the best option?" Dylan's uncomprehending tone was a blend of frustration, shock, anger, anxiety and fear.

Dr. Harb looked at the bewildered faces. "This is a lot, I know that. I wish it were better news. I'll try and explain it more clearly, please bear with me." He shuffled his notes and began again.

"On either side of the penis are two cylindrical shaped chambers called 'corpora cavernosa' which run the entire length of the shaft. During sexual stimulation the brain tells the penile blood vessels to relax allowing the chambers to fill, and the penis becomes erect. Then the veins constrict, the blood is held inside and the erection is sustained. After ejaculation, the veins relax again and blood flows out, returning the penis to the normal flaccid state.

"In your case Dylan, the car accident caused small fractures of your pelvis bilaterally in the lower half, specifically the Ischium, and Pubis bones. Now bilaterally means both left and right side was affected. Normally nothing to worry about and usually these minute breaks heal without medical intervention, which based on the x-rays was the proper course of action. Speaking of x-rays, they are a wonderful tool, but can't show everything — especially soft tissue damage. More often than not unless there are complications, x-rays are the way to go. Unfortunately in your case something did happen that required use of enhanced testing. An MRI gives a much clearer picture, which is why I ordered it in addition to the other diagnostics. The angiography as expected showed restricted blood flow to the penis. Both pudendal arteries were seriously damaged. The left side's was extensive, and surgery would be pointless. The right though was a viable candidate—until I saw the MRI."

Dr. Harb took a sip of water, and contemplated again his next words. "The MRI revealed what the x-ray couldn't. Your pelvis not only fractured, it also fragmented. These fragments lodged near the nerve stalks that relax the blood vessels during arousal and also relay the wonderful sensations we males feel throughout the sexual experience. The fragmentation is also bilateral. Though highly unusual, it is consistent with the fractures shown on your x-ray.

"What does this mean? If I or anyone else were to perform surgery on the right side to improve the circulation, the chance of doing damage to those nerves is well above 95%. If the nerves are compromised you will lose the majority of sensation in your penis. Not all, but most of it. Compounding this is a high probability of damage to the external anal and urethral sphincter nerves, which can cause incontinence and bowel leakage. I'm so sorry Dylan but it is my medical opinion and recommendation that you, do—not—have surgery to correct the blood flow."

After a few seconds he continued, "The complications and long term effects, in my professional judgment, are not worth the risk. Of course you can seek a second opinion, but make sure to ask yourself this: 'is a five percent chance of the positive outcome worth the risk of a lifetime of diapers?' You have excellent sensation, but the machine itself is not working."

Dr. Harb stopped and took a long drink. "Dylan, if the operation goes wrong it could for all intents and purposes paralyze your penis. There are other al..."

Mari shot up at the word paralyzed and ran sobbing out of the room. Dylan slumped back into the seat and lowered his head. Tears fell from his eyes onto his lap. Dr. Harb pulled his chair closer, placed his arm around the injured soul and just quietly waited. Several minutes elapsed, before the anguished man looked up. 

Dylan, staggered by the doctor's words, felt helpless. Twenty-four-years old and no longer able to get it up? Never again would he feel the inside of his wife's pussy? He couldn't be a father in the conventional sense. After all how can you get a woman pregnant if you can't stick it in? What about Mari? Only twenty-two, can she live with a man who can't make love to her? Can she live with a—eunuch? Should he set her free? 

He thought about his parents and how he wished he hadn't been so stubborn. Then the realization hit. No grandchildren. That revelation drove him over the edge. The torment was too much, despair fueled his misery,  'It's over, I'm done. What's the use?'  He grabbed his red cane to leave only to be stopped by the doctor.

Dr. Harb took the cane and gently sat the despondent man back down. His experience told him what the dispirited male was going through and he had to assure his patient that it was not hopeless. "Dylan, this is not over. Before your wife abruptly left, I was going to tell you both that there are alternatives. This isn't the end of the world. We may not be able to repair your circulation but damn it son, we can get you hard as nails."

Dylan stared at the doctor in disbelief. "What do you mean by 'alternatives'?"

"I think it would be better to tell the two of you together. I'll go find Mrs. Hunt."

"No, she'll be back. Tell me—now," he replied brusquely and inwardly thought,  'How many times have I heard that? Not going to bother her with this bullshit. Another false hope, another pipe dream, another miracle, another vision dashed to hell. She deserves better; hell, I deserve better.' 

"Very well," the physician responded, and pulled out several pamphlets for Dylan to read.

***

Sylvia Anderson asked her daughter a second time, "You mean to tell me that if he doesn't have the operation, he won't ever get it up again. But if he does go through with it and if it goes bad, he will have to wear diapers for the rest of his life?" 

"Yes mom, that's exactly what I mean," yelled Mari as she tearfully sat on a bench in the medical building's courtyard. "If the operation fails, he could lose feeling down there and nothing will work. If he doesn't do it, he will never get an erection again. It's a nightmare, I...I...d...don't know what to do mom. I can't live like this. I've told you how stressful it's been and now it will get worse," the pessimistic woman sobbed.

Sylvia concealed her glee, took a shallow breath and quietly offered counsel, "Honey, if it was your father, God rest his soul, I know in my heart he wouldn't hesitate at all. Regardless of the odds he would most assuredly have had the operation. He could not live as half a man, unable to make love. He would risk everything for the chance to be whole."

The memories Mari had of her dad were of her lying in his muscular arms. Everything else was too vague. She did remember at around four years-of-age going to her grandparents for the summer. She thought it odd how sad they were most of the time. When her mother came to pick her up at summers end, the first thing she did was sit down with the young girl along with her grandmother. Her mother gently explained that her father got very sick and died. She would never forget crying into grandmother's bosom. Years later her mother made it clear why she was sent away: she didn't want Mariette to see her father die.

Mari sniffled at the memory then echoed her mom's words, "Daddy definitely would have had the surgery, no doubt about it. But what if the operation failed Mom? Could you have still loved and stayed with him?"

"Sweetheart," the conniving woman said with crocodile-tears sincerity, "In the 'unlikely' event the operation failed, I would have, without a doubt, stood by your father because he gave his all for me and we would have worked through it together. That's what true love is all about. Can you say the same about Dylan? Will he put you first? Or are you second or third chair?"

"I simply don't know anymore. We just don't seem to get along. The past few days were horrible; it was like walking on eggshells. I honestly don't know if he would put me first. I would like to think so, but I just don't know. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, umm, he decided to get a lawyer to represent us," Mari said knowing full well it wasn't Dylan's decision alone.

"He did huh? Well I guess you have your answer young lady. It is obvious he doesn't care about you, or your wishes." Sylvia almost slipped and let her joy show, but once more spoke with calm firmness, "Mariette honey, sweetheart, I know you don't want to hear this but you need to listen to your mother. If Dylan won't have the operation and doesn't budge on the lawyer, you need to think about moving on with your life." She paused for effect and then with all the sincerity she could muster, "Do you understand what I mean?"

"Y...y...yes I do, but I really believe he will do it—for me, for us." She then sighed, "But—if he doesn't, I...I...guess I know what..." Mari became silent for a short time then sadly asked, "Will you help me get through this if...if...?"

Sylvia interjected and reassured her baby girl, "Of course my darling daughter, of course I will help you. You can always count on your mother. I love you Mariette."

"I knew I could, but I needed to ask. I feel a tiny bit better. I'm going back inside to talk with Dylan and the doctor. Thank you Mom, I love you. I'll let you know what happens as soon as I find out."

"I love you too. I'll wait for your phone call. Good luck honey, bye-bye," Sylvia ended the call, and exuberantly pumped her fists in victory. She hurriedly lit a cigarette and poured some vodka. She swirled the clear liquid, and with tears of joy alongside ones of sadness lifted the glass high, "Steve, I will always love you and our daughter. My...my biggest regret was not meeting you first." She wiped her eyes took a long sip then spat.

"And to you Gerry Anderson, the muscle-bound idiot I foolishly married: may you rot in prison for taking away the only man I truly loved."

Sylvia gulped the remaining liquor and plotted her next move. It was time to contact the lawyer Sally used for her divorce and start the ball rolling. But before that happened she needed to speak with someone first. She took a lengthy drag from her smoke and punched a number on her phone.

When the person answered, she happily said, "Hello Chris. I've got great news. It won't be long now; let me bring you up to speed..."

***

"I know what you've explained, but in all honesty will the procedures you've described actually work for me?" an unbelieving Dylan asked the doctor.

"Yes they will," the doctor said confidently. "The technology we possess is really quite amazing and whichever method you choose I can assure you without question you will be able to get an erection. No doubt about it, and to paraphrase the immortal words of Oscar Goldman, we can rebuild you. Indeed, we can make you bigger, harder and better than before."

"Who is Oscar Goldman?" was the puzzled response.

"Google it," chuckled the doctor, "The point is Dylan, we can put you back together, and you will be able to..."

The doctor stopped when the door opened and Mari walked back in. She gave a weak smile to Dylan and apologized to them for leaving. They simultaneously asked if she was okay. She nodded and sat down a few chairs from her husband. Both men were a bit surprised by her creating a separation from her husband, but said nothing. The urologist offered her a bottle of water, which was politely refused and after a few awkward moments resumed talking.

"What I was telling your husband Mrs. Hunt, is there are other alternatives besides the risky surgery." He paused to let the news sink in.

Mari folded her hands in front of her, looked at Dylan then the doctor, "Will these alternatives make my husband whole?"

The doctor replied, "He will be able to achieve an erection if that is what you are referring too."

"How will that happen?" she asked looking directly at Dylan.

Buoyed by her question, the doctor passed Mari the different brochures. She looked at each one, and sat back in her chair.

Her eyes moistened. She abruptly brushed the pamphlets aside and spoke tentatively, "I...I...don't like any of this. The thought of...of...these so-called alternatives, these...these...things you would put inside him—make me sick. It's not natural and it certainly won't make him whole. I'd rather he take his chances with the operation."

Mari turned to Dylan, his mangled face distorted more by the uncompromising tone of the words she spoke. "Baby listen to me, do you really want this stuff inside you? I am shocked you would even consider doing this. I...I...know the operation is very risky, but I want my whole man back. Please don't let him do this to you. Dylan, honey do you want to go through life as half a man? At least the operation gives you the chance to be completely normal." Then Mari slumped and began to sob uncontrollably.

Dylan's face fell at her opposition to the alternatives. His mind raced with questions. Half the man? What about no man? Didn't she hear the doctor say ninety-five percent chance of failure? He could end up losing most if not all sensation, so how would he get it up anyway? Would she stay with him if it failed? What would happen to them if he had to wear diapers all the time? Could she live with that? Is a five percent possibility enough to risk all? He pondered the main questions,  'Could I live like this, wearing a diaper and never enjoy sex again? No, definitely not and she shouldn't demand it of me either.' 

His heart heavy, Dylan spoke, "Dr. Harb, I—will consider the alternatives." Mari shot him a look. He reached across for her hand but she pulled it back. He gazed at her hardened features, and softly continued, "And—I will also consider the surgery too. Thank you for your help doctor, but now I need to go home and think about this and decide what is best for—me."

The doctor shook their hands and told them to take their time. Dylan picked up his cane, walked towards the door and as he opened it sadly looked back at Mari, "I am going back to the apartment, are you coming?" Then with head down, he left her alone in the room.

She wiped her eyes and slowly got up to follow. Her phone buzzed when she reached the door. She didn't bother to look, she knew who it was. Mari would call later and tell her mother—she was right.

***

The days that followed were eerily quiet around the Hunt apartment. 

Dylan tried to talk with Mari about the difficult choices that lie ahead, but she simply smiled and told him that whatever he decided was okay with her. This revelation surprised him initially, but he soon realized what was happening. She was emotionally withdrawing from their relationship. Their conversations were short and limited to everyday, mundane things. He tried several times to engage his wife, but she would have none of it. 

"Whatever you decide is fine Dylan, so just drop it," was her standard response when he brought up the lawyer, his face, or his manhood. Despite his increased patience and tolerance, Mari was pulling away and it seemed there was nothing he could do to stop it. He knew her mother was involved; she didn't come by any more and after every conversation between Mari and her mother the chasm separating Dylan and Mari expanded.

There was, however, one saving grace. Dr. Fryman finally gave him permission to resume exercising in the gym on a limited basis. When he told his wife the news, Dylan hoped for the usual snarky comeback that had been so prevalent before the accident. Instead he was told to—'have fun'. Puzzled by these changes, the workouts became Dylan's 'think sessions' on what to do with the lawyer, his physical issues and his marriage.

It was during his third day at the gym, halfway through the stepper exercise, that he felt a twinge in his leg and decided to end the work out early. When he arrived home, Mari was not there. 

He looked out to the pond and sure enough, there she was on her phone. He mumbled about her mother 'the puppeteer', and went out to let Mari know he was back. He heard her laugh and wondered what snide remark 'mommy dearest' made at his expense now.

"What's going on dear, momma making fun of me again?" he asked playfully in the hopes of hearing the woman he married those short months ago.

Mari stiffened, "Oh, um, hi Dylan, ahh...how come you're not at the gym? I wasn't expecting you. I'll go and get dinner started." She turned her head and whispered into the phone something that sounded to him like 'bye Chris' as she got up and headed to the apartment.

Mari walked past Dylan and was about to open the patio door when she heard, "Who is Chris?"

She abruptly stopped and cautiously replied, "Oh, umm, a new coworker who started this week."

"How come you've never mentioned this 'Chris' before and why are you talking to him after work is over, hmm?" Dylan teasingly asked. He slowly made his way to her side and when she answered him, he was completely unprepared for her response.

"There is no need for me to tell you what goes on at my job and besides, what makes you think Chris is a he?" she asked. But before her husband could respond, she tersely added, "Chris called with a question regarding the schedule for Friday that couldn't wait." Mari opened the apartment patio door looked back at her husband and contemptuously added, "But I know what you really wanted to ask me. So let me answer your unasked question," and with an abrupt snicker she said, "If Chris is a male, the answer to your question is, no—I am not—sleeping with him." She finished with a laugh then walked inside.

Confused by her double-edged response, Dylan scratched his head. He had been playful, but didn't know if she was too. He honestly didn't know what to believe. Mari had never given him a reason to doubt her, but the way she was talking gave him pause. She sounded like her mother. And when she laughed at the end of her diatribe, was that sarcasm he heard?

Dylan recognized that they were treading water, and the boat was sinking. He had to do something to right this, but what to do? He hadn't heard from Quade in three days and every time he called he got voice-mail. Something had to be done and soon. He wished he wasn't estranged from his family. He could sure use some fatherly advice.

But he figured his Dad wouldn't talk with him and Dylan needed help, but if not from his father then from whom? He saw the light come on in their bedroom and as if by magic a light came on in his head too. He chastised himself. He knew all along a person he could talk to and tomorrow he would.

***

Friday afternoon a happier man came home early from work. Dylan had several things to discuss with Mari and he wasn't going to take 'drop it' for an answer today. He smiled when he tossed the mail on the ever-growing pile of unpaid bills no longer concerned about the threats of collection inside them. He opened the fridge, took out a beer then stopped and put it back. It was better to wait until after their talk. He instead poured a glass of water and headed outside to the pond. He carefully sat on the bench and got as comfortable as his healing injuries allowed. He leaned back closed his eyes and regaled himself with the events of the day.

He chuckled as he remembered what Mr. Kimbridge, no, 'Peter' did for them today. It was amazing. A small voice broke his reverie. He opened his eyes, and saw his loving wife. She seemed nervous as she spoke, "Dylan I...I just got home and some man followed me up the walk. He umm, asked to speak with you."

Her husband stood up and smiled, "Hi hon. No need for you to be so nervous; it's not a problem. Any idea who he represents or what he wants?"

Surprised by his reassurance and smile she hesitated, "Umm, I uhh, don't really know. It's just some man carrying an envelope. I kind of think he...he might be a bill collector because, umm, he asked specifically for you." Mari nervously twisted her chestnut hair as she spoke.




Half the Man Ch. 03



"Yeah, you're probably right. Hey, I got some pretty interesting news from work today. Why don't you have a seat in the kitchen and I'll fill you in after I tell this bill collector to kiss off. I think you are going to like this," he said with a chuckle.

She fidgeted with her violet nails as she answered, "Umm, yeah that sounds good—honey." 

"You okay dear? You seem out of sorts," he asked with concern.

"Oh I do? Sorry, it's been a pretty hectic day for me." She took a breath, "I'll uhh, meet you in the kitchen."

Troubled by her mood, he attempted to soothe his nervous wife by gently taking her into his arms. Instead Mari shrank away from his touch.

Puzzled now by her apparent rejection he quietly and conciliatory whispered, "Mari, I love you very much, and I know it's been as difficult for you as it has for me. But now that I'm off most of the medications, I'm beginning to feel like me again. What we've been going through will strain any marriage, but the two of us together we can make it if we believe in each other." He paused, and with great conviction, "Mari, I believe in you. Please baby, don't give up on us. Okay?"

Mari nodded her head and sobbed, "I'll be in the kitchen, by the patio door." She quickly hurried up the bank, and left him alone.

Dylan, baffled by Mari's hasty departure walked into their apartment and limped to the front door, his cane thunked rhythmically with each step. When he rounded the corner, he saw the person Mari referred to sitting in the living room. The stranger looked up and did a double take when he saw Dylan's severely scarred face. Dylan was getting used to stares and paid it no mind. The middle-aged man stood and in his hands he held a large envelope and a small clipboard.

Before Dylan could say a word the man looked down at the clipboard and asked, "Sir, are you Dylan Alexander Hunt?"

"Yes, that's me. What is this regar..."

The man interrupted, "I have a registered letter that requires your signature. Please sign here." The nervous stranger stared at the scars as he presented the clipboard and pen to the mildly confused husband.

Dylan looked at the paper and although a bit puzzled by the 'acknowledgement of receipt', signed the paper. As he returned the clipboard he asked, "Kind of formal for a collection agency, don't you think?"

The man looked at the signature, smiled and handed the perplexed husband the envelope, "I am sorry sir, I have no idea what you are talking about. Dylan Alexander Hunt, you have been served." He then turned and hurriedly left the apartment.

Dylan stared at the envelope.  'Served what?'  he wondered as he opened it.

He scanned the cover letter and grabbed the back of the chair to keep himself from falling.

"A petition for divorce! Oh god no, please don't do this!" His heart skipped a beat and he cried, "No, Mari, no! Please don't let her win, Mari, Mariette!!" he yelled and hobbled quickly into the kitchen. When he entered, he saw Mari standing by the patio door, tears in her eyes and a suitcase in her hand. He started towards her but stopped when she put her hand up.

"Dylan I'm so sorry, but I...I...I can't do this anymore. I'm not strong enough. When I first met you, you took my breath away—the attraction was strong, I can't deny it. You reminded me so much of my dad; it was like a fantasy." She wiped her eyes, "But, we should have dated more and gotten to know each other better before...before we married. It...it...was after that godforsaken accident, I realized what we had wasn't love—but young immature lust. I got lost in the moment, enamored with the idea of being married, and I fin..." Dylan started to speak, "No don't talk, my mind is made up. I finally figured out you are not who I thought you were and I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She sniffled and drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry for doing this now, but I guess there never is really a good time—I...I didn't ask for much because of the catastrophe you suffered. You've been—hurt—enough. Please just sign the papers so we can get on with our lives. I...I...I wish you well, I will re...re...member you fondly." It was a distraught sounding Mari who turned and fled out the patio door.

Dylan, paralyzed by her words, didn't move for several moments. Suddenly he screamed, "That god damned mother of hers. She did this!! I won't let this happen!" Anger welled within him and hot tears burned his cheeks. He grabbed his cane and almost ran out the door. He turned towards the parking area and was about to yell for Mari to come back when he saw—three of them? It was Mari, the bitch and some man putting her suitcase in the blue sedan's trunk.

Sylvia sneered at Dylan and gave him the finger. The hate Dylan felt for this woman overrode his judgment. All he wanted to do was strangle the bitch. Mari peered from behind the open trunk lid and saw her soon to be ex hurrying towards them. She looked to her mother for encouragement and with a tinge of sadness yelled, "Dylan stop right there. It's over; we're over, so leave us alone. Just sign the papers."

The trunk slammed closed and the dark-haired man puffed out his chest. He glared at Dylan as he started heading their way and moved to intercept him. Mari reached out and grabbed him, "No Christopher, he's not worth going to jail over. He's a cripple and...and...not half the...the..." Despite her mother's look egging her on, Mari stopped her attack. She instead gave Christopher a chaste hug and asked him to open the car door. Mari looked back at Dylan; he had stopped and seemed confused. Her bravado vanished and she hesitated unsure of what to do next.

"Mariette, get in the car."

"But mom, I...I...can't do...thi..."

"Mariette, get in the car NOW!" Sylvia shrieked. Her daughter obeyed and the door was closed.

Dylan's heart got stuck in his throat when he heard what Mari said. It wasn't the insult; it was the man's name—Christopher. His mind raced back to a few days ago when she said with a chuckle,  'But let me answer the unasked question, no—I am not—'sleeping' with him.' 

The bitter pain morphed to rage when he realized the joke was on him. He looked up as the car started and with all the strength he could muster threw his cane at the departing vehicle. The car jerked to a stop when the right taillight exploded. Christopher flung open the door and had one foot out when Mari screamed at him and pulled the angry man back inside. Dylan started towards the car but stopped when the reverse lights came on. He was shocked when it moved quickly towards him. He placed his hands on his hips and defiantly waited for the collision.

There was a sickening crunch followed by the screech of tires, and then all was quiet except for the sound of ducks swimming on the pond.

Several hours passed before the patio door slowly opened and a broken man cradling a broken cane limped in. He set the pieces on the table, opened the refrigerator took out two beers and placed them next to the shattered cane. Silently he picked up the divorce papers and absently thumbed through the pages. A great sadness washed over Dylan Alexander Hunt as he looked out at the setting sun's reflection on the pond. He set down the troubling papers picked up a bottle and took a sip of the golden liquid. His moisture-laden eyes drifted to the empty bench and thoughts of happier times. Soon the shadows of night enveloped his memories and as the last vestiges of light disappeared, Dylan laid his head on the table and wept.

End of Chapter 3

to be continued...



Half the Man Ch. 04



'Half the Man'© and its associated chapters is a copyrighted production of Mostera1©

Chapter 4

The bright noon sun glistened off the park's pond as softly quacking ducks congregated on the shore. Children laughed and played noisily under their parent's watchful eye. People from neighboring office buildings gathered on lush green lawns to enjoy the warm outdoors and the company of others. Delightful aromas from the myriad of lunch carts wafted on the soft breeze to attract hungry members of the midday crowd. On one of the many benches located on the water's edge, a solitary figure with legs slightly crossed perused the sports section of the local newspaper. He was seemingly oblivious to his surroundings and completely unaware of the blue eyes that followed his every move. He just finished the recap from last night's game when his ears pricked at a soft 'kwee-kwee' sound. Dylan lowered the newspaper and watched a family of ducks come out from underneath the bench. He chuckled as they waddled single file to the pond.

A smile formed on his face as the brood marched past the vigilant drake and entered the sun-warmed water. That smile faded as memories of another pond invaded his mind.

 'Hard to believe it's been four years,'  Dylan thought as he leaned back on the bench.  'Some days it seems like another life time, but today it feels like—yesterday.' 

He smoothed the neatly trimmed beard he first grew two years before. It took a lot of creative trimming to get just the right look. He didn't grow the beard to hide his face from the outside world, but rather so he would not be constantly reminded of the time following his accident and divorce. The facial reconstruction, for all intents and purposes, was very successful. Of course if he looked he could see the scars his beard judiciously hid, because he knew where they were, but to the casual observer they were virtually invisible. Even his missing dimple wasn't that noticeable. 

He raised the newspaper up to read, but couldn't focus. He gave up the pretense of reading, instead staring out onto the serene water as his mind aimlessly wandered through the years. His cell phone abruptly woke him from the daydream, and when he looked at the number—he smiled once more.

"Hello Peter, good to hear from you. How are you this fine sunny day?"

"Sunny my butt! It's cold and rainy here." Then he chuckled, "Nevertheless, I'm doing fine my good man. How are things at 'Promoden' these days?"

Dylan grinned at his former employer's question, "As if you didn't know. Oh, Mr. Raeburn is still waiting for you to pay-off your bet."

"Ha! Tell Greg he'll get his dollar when I'm good and ready to send it. How are your mom and dad?"

"They're doing well. Mom started rehab on her knee right after the replacement surgery. Dad couldn't believe they had her up the same day. That was four weeks ago, and Dad is still hovering over her like a mother hen and driving her crazy. Implant technology these days is unbelievable. Speaking of implants, how is yours doing?"

Peter hesitated briefly, "The pacemaker is doing as advertised; the arrhythmia is under control and Ruth is extremely happy I haven't been to the emergency room in two months. Enough about me—oh, before I forget, Tyler sends his regards, and Sarah became engaged."

Dylan got excited, "That's fantastic about the pacemaker. I spoke with Ruth just before your surgery and she said you were extremely nervous. Glad it's helped. Send my best wishes back to Tyler, How many grandkids now?"

"I lost count after nine."

"I'm not surprised. You have enough health issues of your own to keep track of. So Akashi finally popped the question? That's wonderful news. Would you have Sheila send me their address? I want to send a card."

"Who am I? Your secretary?" laughed Peter. "You can call Sheila yourself; she'd love to hear from you. By the way, this call isn't strictly personal. I wanted to run a business proposition by you too."

"I'll call her," Dylan chuckled and then asked seriously, "I'm out of the office at the moment. Can you give me some of the background information before I get back?"

"It has to do with API800—they're expanding into your area."

Dylan whistled, "Really? Wow, for an up and comer in the industry they sure are hard-chargers. It's been what, three years since they hired your firm?"

"Actually, it's closer to four." Suddenly Peter coughed, "Sorry, excuse me—so when you're done goofing off, call Sheila for Sarah's address, and also set up a video conference time."

The cough caused concern for his good friend, "Pete, are you okay? That sounded rough?"

"Yes, yes, it was just a cough. Don't forget to call Sheila."

"Alright 'Dad' I will. And please take care of yourself. We'll talk later."

"Thanks 'Son', bye." Peter set his desk phone down, picked up a pen and leaned back in his chair. He took a couple of breaths coughed again, and felt lightheaded. "Damn it, I'll have to move up my doctor's appointment. This stupid thing is under-sensing again." He took a drink of water, rolled the pen in his hand and leaned back further. He thought about his former employee's struggles and hoped one day would find his own Ruth. 

"Has it been four years already?" he mused and drifted back in time.

****

He had a fabulous weekend with Ruth and their grandchildren. The new heart medication he started the week before had been better than advertised. Peter enjoyed the newfound energy, as did his grandchildren and especially Ruth. Their devotion, nurtured by many decades of love and lust was unmistakably evident after the little ones were sound asleep. It was the best two nights they had in a long time and the playful swat he got as he left for work promised more. He never felt better. He hoped young Hunt's weekend was just as memorable and headed towards the marketing specialist's cubicle anxious to hear how it went after Friday's revelations.

Peter thought about Dylan's return to work after that horrific accident and the quiet whisperings which didn't happen because of Dylan's remarkable foresight. Dylan contacted him about returning to work early. That by itself was noteworthy but when the young marketing strategist warned that his appearance, caused by his injuries, could disrupt the normal operations of the office until his co-workers became accustomed to seeing him. Peter was impressed that despite the catastrophe he suffered, Dylan showed great maturity and thoughtfulness with the disclosure. Peter made a note to discuss the situation at the next staff meeting and thanked him for thinking about the office's well being. His respect increased ten-fold for young Hunt and before they said goodbye he made certain Dylan knew to consult him if he ever needed help.

When his protégé made it back, Peter often stopped by his cubicle to chitchat and soon a friendship developed that transcended work. He was flattered and surprised that Dylan trusted him with very personal information. When he heard about the newly married couple's financial woes, he offered a no-interest loan which Dylan initially refused, but after a friendly twist of the arm accepted.

Several weeks after he made the loan, Peter noticed a pronounced change in his protégé's mood. His young friend became increasingly anxious and tense. Their conversations morphed from that of friends back to employer and employee. He gently prodded, but Dylan continued to withdraw. Frustrated that Dylan seemed to be regressing, he asked Sheila, his executive assistant, what to do. She suggested stepping back and letting the troubled young man come to him. He didn't like the advice, but trusted her judgment enough to follow it. Fortunately the wait was short. It was Friday morning when Dylan came to his office.

As soon as Dylan entered, he saw the tension in his young friends face and when the apologies started, Peter promptly stopped them by raising his hand palm forward, then candidly asked what was going on. He immediately regretted his haste to come to the point as Dylan nervously fidgeted and wrung his hands. Peter offered his edgy employee a glass of water. He took a sip, and Peter could see his friend relax. Dylan placed the glass on the desk and he started to talk.

Straightaway Peter also became concerned about the integrity of John Quade, the insurance company adjuster. He listened just long enough to know that Quade's actions didn't seem normal, and wondered if the adjuster might be doing a scam. He interrupted Dylan and with his friend's blessing contacted Sarah VanHousen, one of the company attorneys, to look into the questionable goings on. Much to Peter's surprise, that very afternoon she notified him that Mr. John Quade was out of the office and when she pressed further about Dylan's claim she got—stonewalled. She began investigating and in a few short hours discovered that Quade had been placed on administrative leave five days prior to her inquiry and that all of his cases were being audited. Before the call ended, Sarah asked him to let her know how he wanted to proceed. He pondered her words for a few minutes, then called Dylan to his office and informed him of her discovery.

Dylan's cane fell when he sat back in his chair, floored by Sarah's findings. He asked, "What does all this mean? What happens to my insurance claim now Mr. Kimbridge? Will I have to start the process all over again? We have collection agencies calling constantly. I...I...don't know what to do." His voice trembled by the end of his statement.

Peter picked the cane up and handed it back to his stunned friend. "I don't have all the answers for you, son," he admitted, just before he curled his lip up into a small smile. "But based on what Sarah tells me, it turns out you were right about the insurance adjuster's lack of integrity and I would speculate the insurance company would want to keep his, umm, 'practices' quiet—real quiet."

The savvy businessman became serious, "Son you've suffered a major loss and have been misled by the insurance company's representative. Once again, with your permission of course, I would like to ask Sarah to continue as your attorney so you are compensated adequately and fairly. What Quade did to you was reprehensible."

Dylan's eyes water when he spoke, "Now, I...I...don't know what to say."

"A simple 'yes' will do just fine."

"Yes."

Peter chuckled and said, "Great, I'll let Sarah know, and with respect to the creditors," Peter thumbed through his rolodex. "Here is Sarah's business card; give them her contact information and she'll handle it. But if I know her, she'll ask you about them first. Now enough of this—I have a splendid idea. Why don't you go home early and celebrate with that lovely wife of yours. I'll see you Monday, so go on and get out of here."

Dylan stood and gave his friend a hug before he left to tell Mari the good news.

****

Peter's daydream was interrupted by a sudden inexplicable pain in his side. He became nauseous and took a sip of water. He picked up the phone ready to dial 911 and then immediately set it down again when the wave passed and he felt better. "Damn pacemaker," he mumbled. Comfortable again, he yawned and leaned back in his chair. He floated back to Monday morning.

There was a big smile on his face as he entered the small cubicle and he cheerfully exclaimed, "Good morning young sir! How was..."

He stopped, surprised to find Dylan slumped on the paper strewn desk. Immediately he walked up and placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder.

Alarmed by his weeping employee he calmly asked, "Son, what's wrong?"

When Dylan looked up, he recognized the look of a beaten, humiliated man. The horrific physical scars paled in comparison to the crushing pain his eyes conveyed. Whatever happened over the weekend had driven Dylan over the edge. He projected strong emotions of shame and embarrassment. Peter recoiled momentarily and just stared at the broken figure before him. The proud owner of Kimbridge Marketing had lost his voice. The deafening silence ended when his sad friend spoke.

"I am so sorry Mr. Kimbridge," he said and wiped his eyes. "I apologize for my unprofessional behavior. It won't happen again sir."

Peter cleared his throat, "Son, forget where we are. I'm your friend, talk to me."

"Sh...sh...she's di...divorcing me," Dylan sputtered. "Mari's divorcing me.

"Sh...sh...she said the accident showed her that our marriage was a—mistake, just a mistake." He almost collapsed but regrouped and tearfully continued, "it...it wasn't built on love, but on lust, and that she was drawn to me because I looked like her dad, a...a...a fantasy come to life." He gazed upward tears streaming, "I figured Mari's bitch of a mother put her up to it. I...I...I thought I could change her mind." He took a short breath and stammered, "In...in...instead I discovered she already found my...my replacement, and th...then," his face scrunched, he turned away and began to mumble.

It took a bewildered Peter several moments to process what Dylan revealed.  'Divorce? Affair? I knew her mother despised him, but to deliberately set out to destroy their marriage?' His head suddenly snapped when he caught a fragment of the distraught man's mumbling.  'That can't be right, I must've misheard. Mari wouldn't do that.'  He looked at the emotionally devastated man and suddenly his hackles rose.

He found it hard to stay calm, "Son, did you say Mari is demanding $150,000 and spousal support? That...that is completely absurd!"

Dylan silently looked at the papers scattered on his desk then bitterly replied, "No! What's 'absurd' was her telling me she didn't want—much." He started to laugh, "And—apparently her definition of 'much' was as different from mine as my definition of 'marriage' was from hers. When we said our vows in Vegas, we lit a unity candle to symbolize our joining and the start of our life together as husband and wife. Two became one. At least that's what I thought." After a shallow breath he hissed, "Her interpretation always included her mother and now a...a...lover." His fury spent, Dylan collapsed into the chair.

Peter paced angrily inside the cubicle. He felt they as if were being watched and sure enough, a small crowd had gathered. A stern look shooed them away. 

His thoughts turned to Mari. He met her on several occasions and he couldn't fathom that she was capable of such appalling behavior. Peter was almost certain that her mother was behind everything. Dylan often told Peter that she 'constantly pulled on Mari's strings.' Regardless if it was Mari or her mother, young Hunt needed to take a stand. Peter pondered,  'He not only needs a strong defense but an exceptional offense too. Hmmm.'  He snapped his fingers, picked up the desk phone and dialed Sheila. He asked her to contact Tyler. Tyler Bolt was a damn good family-law attorney. If anyone could help this poor soul it was his close friend Tyler. Peter asked Dylan to come to the conference room at 10:30 A.M. that morning before he headed back to his office.

"Is he okay Mr. Kimbridge?" Sheila inquired with heartfelt concern.

"No he's not; the poor lad is being put through more hell. I'm surprised he's still functioning." Peter became angry, "I can't just sit by and allow this to happen. Perhaps I am overstepping my bounds, but damn it as long as Dylan allows me to, I'm going to do all I can to help him out." He took a breath, "Sheila I know you're worried, but I don't want to disclose anything else until I speak with Tyler."

"I understand sir, and I know you'll help him get through this," she replied as her phone rang.

"Kimbridge Marketing and Research, Sheila Atworth speaking ... Hello Mr. Bolt ... No, it's 'Mr. Bolt' during business hours and Tyler after-hours ... Uh huh, say hi to Gelila for me ... thanks, you too, let me transfer you."

She placed the attorney on hold and looked at Peter.

"I heard, Sheila, thank you." Before taking Bolt's call, Peter turned to her and asked, "Would you please pull up the file for API800 before you go to lunch?" His executive assistant smiled because she knew how important it was to add this rising firm to the company's stock portfolio.

"Consider it done sir."

Peter nodded closed his door and picked up the phone.

"Hi Tyler, thanks for calling back so quickly, I have a problem ... What was that? ... You thought I called about some news? What news? ... No I haven't talked to Ruth since I left this morning, I've been busy ... Latasha and her family are expecting number three! That's grandchild number seven right? ... Oh wow! Congratulations my good friend ... Yeah, it seems like just yesterday we were popping out our kids ... The ticker? Thanks for asking, it's doing great. The new medication is a wonder drug, and you can ask Ruth how well it worked. Wait—on second thought—don't." They both laughed.

Peter briefed Tyler on Dylan's circumstance, and wondered if they could arrange a conference call at 10:30 that morning. The capable attorney asked him to hold. When he came back on, Tyler said that instead of a call he'd come over and meet with Dylan personally. Peter thanked his friend, and laughed when his buddy informed him it would cost him a lunch.

****

Peter sat back and listened as his old friend analyzed the situation. Tyler, having dealt with multitudes of divorce proceedings, projected an aura of confidence that gave Dylan new hope as they discussed the case. Tyler almost blew a gasket when he read the divorce stipulations made by Mrs. Hunt's attorney. As far as Tyler was concerned the demands were borderline insanity. The settlement she wanted didn't equate with a ten-year marriage—let alone one that hadn't lasted a year. He scheduled a time when he would meet with Dylan in a few days to draft a rational counterproposal and send it, along with a very formal letter to Mariette's attorney that would unequivocally state what Mrs. Hunt asked for was asinine. Tyler left the meeting, shaking Peter and Dylan's hands and reassuring Dylan that his interests were going to be vigorously defended, Peter almost felt sorry for Mari—almost being the operative word.

The next day, Sarah contacted him to touch base about the status of the insurance negotiations. Peter could hear the strain in her voice—it was only the week before that her own marriage imploded. He was surprised she wanted to continue with this case, but was glad she did. Peter knew the competent and aggressive attorney would never back down from a challenge and despite her personal problems, this one was no different. She informed the company that her investigation had revealed that Mr. Quade had a reputation—and it wasn't good. The insurance company did not perform sufficient due diligence prior to hiring him and the repercussions of that oversight were potentially devastating—for them.

Peter was pleased to know that his able attorney, although much stressed, did her job for his young troubled employee. Peter laughed when Dylan humorously protested that his arm was about to fall off from all the papers she had him sign. Dylan, as she had instructed him, sent her the names of the all his creditors and each was sent a registered letter to inform them that Mr. Dylan A. Hunt was her client. All contact from now on would be through her. He chuckled when his young friend told him, clearly relieved, that the harassment had stopped.

Everyone worked closely together to protect Dylan's current and future assets from his soon to be ex-wife. They had a number of meetings and conference calls and came up with several different strategies. They prepared for a long drawn out battle, but much to their surprise, the battle ended before it started.

Peter learned from Tyler that Mrs. Hunt's attorney had sent a counterproposal. He set up a meeting to discuss the response. 




Half the Man Ch. 04



Tyler spoke first. "I read over the counterproposal and quite honestly I didn't expect this. First, Mrs. Hunt continued with the only sensible request—to be held harmless from all creditors past, present, and future. Now for the surprises: Mrs. Hunt lowered the $150,000 monetary payment to a very reasonable $10,000. The request for alimony was withdrawn and finally she would make no claim on any insurance settlement that Mr. Hunt received."

Sarah was floored, "This makes absolutely no sense; it's almost as if two different people wrote the proposals!"

Dylan spoke softly, "Regardless who wrote them, can we get this settled quickly?"

"Yes, I'll write up the agreement, and if nothing else changes we should be completely finished in a few months," Tyler answered.

Sarah informed them of the status with the insurance company, "The insurance negotiations are almost finished. I've been able to secure medical expenses for ten years, and the monetary settlement is very close to being finalized. I estimate another month, and it should be done."

Dylan nodded, and thanked them all for their hard work on his behalf. He picked up his cane and walked out. When Tyler left he shook Peter's hand, and proposed that they get together to play a round of golf. He wanted to try out his new XL-5 golf balls. To Tyler's disappointment, Peter politely declined.

Before Sarah could leave, Peter asked, "Sarah I know dealing with this has been difficult for you, considering your personal ordeal is so similar to his. How are you doing?"

"As well as can be expected, and you're right it is difficult. Last week, I was an obliviously happy wife, and now I'm a statistic. So yeah, it's tough. But you know what they say, 'when the going gets tough, the tough get going.' Which with Tyler's help, I am doing. Thank you for asking though, I appreciate it," Sarah replied disconsolately.

"You are welcome Ms. Van...I'm sorry Ms. Morimoto and do remember my door is open for you too," Peter said with sincerity. Sarah hugged him and then hurried out of the conference room.

A month later and two-weeks after an agreement with the insurance company was finalized, Dylan somberly read over paperwork that would end his short marriage in ninety days.

He became indignant when he realized that his divorce would be official three weeks before what would have been their first anniversary. He never asked Mari why she restructured the divorce terms in his favor. He hadn't seen or heard from her since that day, but he certainly remembered the words she spoke when she left: 'Please just sign the papers so we can get on with our lives. I...I...I wish you well, I will re...re...member you fondly.' 'Fond' was not how he would remember her, the end of their marriage, or especially her mother 'the bitch.' But he conceded Mari was right about one thing, it was time to move on. Dylan bitterly picked up the pen and signed the documents. 

Later that afternoon, Dylan asked Peter what he thought about Mari's 'change of heart'. Peter presumed the first proposal was done according to her mother's wishes without Mari's knowledge. Dylan agreed, but couldn't conceive that Mari would stand up to the bitch and make such a radical change. Regardless of why, now that the dissolution paperwork was official it just didn't matter anymore. Dylan's cell phone rang. It was the hospital confirming his surgery for the following day—the first of many.

****

Dylan touched the on-screen 'off' button, and slid his phone into his pocket. He looked up into the bright sun and thought,  'I sure hope Peter's okay. From what Ruth said, that surgery took a lot out of him. He's just as stubborn as my dad.'  Dylan stretched and placed the folded newspaper under his arm. He looked over at the lunch carts on the park's perimeter, chuckled and decided tomorrow it was Emilio's—again. 

Suddenly there was a shout. He turned and saw an airborne soccer ball heading his way. Spritely he chest trapped it and chipped the ball back to the kids. He grinned and continued on his way; oblivious to the blue eyes that now sparkled with excitement.

The next day at noon the weather was a carbon copy of the day before. Dylan had just taken a bite of his sandwich when several large globs of mustard hit him on the chest. He looked down at the unsightly mess on his shirt and quickly grabbed a napkin to sop up the mustard before it did even more damage. He visibly shivered when a woman squealed, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

Dylan turned and faced a light beige blouse. He looked up and saw a very tall woman; one hand over her mouth, panic etched on her face. Her other held a bottle with yellow goo drooling down the sides.

"I'm so sorry sir," she said, her doe eyes full of concern, "Please let me do that—I made the mess, I should be the one to clean it up." She reached for his napkin and softly added, "Umm, my name is..."

Dylan interrupted and pulled his hand away, "No, no, it's okay I got this." He looked at the vendor who was trying very hard not to laugh. "Emilio, I know you're enjoying this, but if it's not too much trouble could you put that tank down and get me a glass of water. I'm in a bit of a mess here."

The lunch cart vendor sniggered, set the propane cylinder down and filled a paper cup to hand his sloppy customer. Emilio chortled when Dylan mouthed a sardonic 'thank you' and snatched the cup away. Dylan glared at his friend, wet the napkin and ignored the very apologetic woman while he worked on the numerous stains.

"I didn't realize the bottle was so full! I'm so sorry," she repeated for the third time.

Dylan finally glanced up and tersely replied, "Look, it's no big deal, it was an accident. So please stop with the apologies." Dylan gave up on the shirt and crossly threw the napkin into the trash followed by his sandwich.

"Can I at least buy you lunch tomorrow?" she implored as she watched him toss the barely touched sandwich into the garbage. Quickly she opened her purse and rummaged desperately through it.

"NO! Don't bother, it isn't necessary. Now if you will excuse ME." was the annoyed reply.

Frustrated she pleaded, "Please, it's the least I can do." 

Aggravated, Dylan turned caustic, "Ma'am I think you've done enough, the answer is—NO! Have a nice day." Then he stalked off.

He was already across the lawn when she finally found what she was hunting for. Her eyes moistened when she realized he had already left. She stared at the small object in her hand, put her head down and softly whispered, "My name is Harper, here's my card, please call..." then she ran off clearly upset.

Emilio heard everything and could not believe how rude his young friend had been. He would have said something if he hadn't been in the middle of changing propane tanks. By the time he finished, both were gone. Customer or not, when Dylan comes by again he was going to give him a piece of his mind.

The adrenalin rush faded soon after he stormed off. The reality of his boorish behavior hit him hard, and Dylan hurried back to apologize but she was gone. He asked Emilio which way she went. Emilio didn't say, instead he tore Dylan a new asshole.

Dylan took his well-deserved scolding and went back to work. There he endured the good-natured ribbing of his coworkers while they analyzed the shirt splatter in true Rorschach fashion. He listened to the debate as they argued incessantly on what they saw. They all agreed it looked like two figures, but there was no consensus on what the yellow mottling represented. McCarthy saw dancing girls while Mahoney swore they were puppets. But Shari, ever the dreamer, hushed them both. She saw two cute cuddly puppies. All Dylan saw was red.

****

He entered his apartment and immediately kicked his shoes off. He walked with a subtle limp into the kitchen and set the mail on the table. Dylan pulled off his heavily stained shirt and contemplated the many yellow blotches. He declared it un-salvageable and tossed it by the trashcan. Shirtless, the well-muscled man went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He sat down at the table and disgustedly shook his head when he thought of his treatment of the young woman he dubbed the 'mustard lady.'

He sighed, and took a long sip of the caramel colored brew. He rolled the cold liquid in his mouth and relished the flavor. He rewound the event that resulted in his less than stellar behavior that afternoon and found the trigger that initiated his response.

 'It was her innocent offer of help.' 

Those words brutally reminded him of Rita, his last girlfriend. Suddenly he was reliving the events of eight months before. He groaned, cursing the images of that dark time and how they still affected him. It had taken a lot of therapy sessions to work through the pain he thought was relegated to the past—until today. 

****

Dylan strolled into a neighborhood bar and found a booth in the back. Although the day went well, he was glad the presentations were finally done and looked forward to the ninety-minute drive that would take him home. He ordered a beer and scanned the happy hour menu. The waitress brought his drink, and he handed her back the menu without ordering. He admired her ass jiggle and poured a glassful. He watched the game on the big screen and enjoyed the brew. He was about to call for the check when a glass of beer hit his shoulder and spilled down the front of his shirt.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry sir!" a woman squealed, "Can someone please bring me a towel?"

Dylan grabbed a napkin but stopped when he heard, "Let me do that I made the mess, I should be the one to clean it up."

The perpetrator looked at Dylan, and flashed a smile. He returned the gesture, and handed her the napkin. She dabbed at his shirt as she gazed into his golden brown eyes. When the waitress arrived with towels, the woman took one and together they mopped up the spill.

"I am so sorry sir," the woman said once again with warmth, her green eyes brimming with hope and a bit of—lust. "I, umm, slipped and crashed into you."

He grinned and replied, "It was just an accident ma'am and the shirt will dry. But I'll smell like a brewery for a little while," Dylan joked as he admired the beautiful blonde beauty before him. He felt the familiar tingles, and hoped this was karma.

She laughed and extended her hand, "Hi, my name is Rita. Can I get you a drink to apologize for my clumsiness?"

He quickly grasped the offered hand, "Dylan, Dylan Hunt. Despite my soaked shirt, I am very pleased to meet you Rita, and in lieu of a drink—if I may be so bold—would you please sit down and join me?"

"I would love too." Her face beamed and she sat down. 

They talked for several hours, exchanged numbers and made a date for the weekend. Those two days together quickly drew them closer. He liked Rita and that she was very easy on his eyes sure helped. Long blonde hair, green eyes and although perhaps a bit too slender, she had curves in all the right spots. After their third date, Dylan enjoyed the swell of her ample breasts and laughed when she playfully swatted his hand for taking liberties with her luscious ass while they walked around town. She in turn cherished his kisses and whispered that his beard tickled her so much she soaked her panties; she was slightly puzzled when he simply laughed. Rita enjoyed the feel of his muscular body, but was disgruntled that he kept removing her hand when she reached for his 'package.'

The new couple spent their fourth date at the beach and Rita gasped at how buff Dylan looked in a swimsuit. He was speechless when she came out in her cover up, and when she shed it he carnally wondered,  'How could she pack so much into such a small piece of fabric?'  His awakening cock told him it didn't care how; it wanted to explore the hills and valleys soon—very soon.

It was on their next date, when things got serious. Dylan felt it was time to share more about his life, he told Rita about the auto accident and his subsequent divorce. He didn't tell her everything, but inside he hoped that someday soon he could. Rita listened to his story, and snuggled tight. She slipped her hand under his shirt and caressed his chest, then brazenly withdrew and hurriedly slid lower. When she reached his belt buckle, Dylan gently guided her back up once again. He could tell she was disappointed, but from experience he thought it was too soon. Rita was the third woman he dated seriously. When Marcia learned about his 'complication', she got up to go to the ladies room and never came back. Theresa laughed so hard that he got up from the table, threw enough money down to cover their meal and left.

Dylan tenderly pulled Rita's chin up and made it plain he was a bit gun shy. He cared about her but wanted a few more dates before taking the next step. Frustrated on the inside, she faked a smile and whispered, "Not too many more."

He laughed, kissed her hard and felt his cock throb in agreement.  'Oh yes, definitely not too many more,'  he mused.

It was after their seventh date when an impatient Rita made her move and coyly asked, "You've never seen my apartment; would you like to come in for a nightcap?"

"I'd love to," was the cheery reply.

She grabbed his hand and hurried him up the stairs and inside. "Here, sit on the couch while I get out of these shoes." Before she turned towards her bedroom she kissed his cheek and playfully grabbed his crotch. "I'll be right back lover boy," she demurely said.

Dylan's cock vibrated like a cell phone on steroids when she touched him.  'Oh yeah, it's time!  he enthusiastically thought then realized,  'But before we get to far...' 

"Umm Rita, wait a second! I need to talk to you about something first," Dylan said nervously.

She thought his anxiousness was cute and told a little white lie. "I'm just changing into my slippers. My feet are so hot in these shoes. I feel, I mean they feel so—wet." She squeezed his arm, winked, wiggled her ass, and sauntered towards her bedroom. Before she went in, Rita twirled blew Dylan a kiss, and seductively said, "Don't worry baby—I completely understand your problem."

A very horny Dylan was suddenly panicked at confronting the upcoming moment when he would have to expose her to the truth,  'No, I really don't think you do. Fuck now what? How I am going to explain this without—wait a second I got it, I'll explain—'after we make love'. Yes, of course, afterwards...'  Dylan then chided himself,  'Shit–you dumb ass, why didn't you think of that four dates ago. Fuck, now I got to get hard in a hurry so she won't become suspicious.'

Dylan scanned for a bathroom and didn't see one. He decided to take a chance and quickly slid his pants down. He reached between his legs and frantically searched,  'Oh come on! Where is it—damn it, any other time. Finally—there you are–okay—fuck, wrong one—shit, where—there it is–got it–now, squeeeeze...' 

"WHAT the fuck are you doing to your balls?" Rita shrieked.

Dylan jumped at her scream and his pants fell to his ankles. He stumbled backwards and landed on the couch. 

Rita stood there as Dylan struggled to get up. She watched his manhood flip-flop lazily on his lap. Initially she was disappointed that he wasn't hard as a rock. All the previous guys she dated had an erection before the car door shut. Suddenly it dawned on her that he never got hard, not once and, when she really thought about it, he always discouraged her from fondling him.

Rita put her hands on her hips and stared.  'I can't touch him, and now he's playing with his balls? What the hell is going on? This doesn't make sense.'  Rita got angry,  'No, it sure the fuck doesn't, what's wrong with this—asshole?'  Her suspicion and anger flared.

Dylan struggled to pull himself together. He felt the sweat pour off his forehead. He glanced at Rita and almost fell down again. Despite his embarrassment, he couldn't help but marvel at her. She was dressed in a long diaphanous purple gown. Her pendulous breasts rippled the fabric when she moved. Her long blond hair framed the mounds of lust as her tiny nipples, outlined in violet, were clearly visible. His small cock twitched and ached for release. Unfortunately, his possibilities for the evening were going downhill rapidly. Rita was irate, in fact she was very irate. She scowled at him and stormed back to her bedroom.

 'Oh fuck, this is not good, not good at all—damn it. I hope she'll give me a chance to explain, but for now I gotta get this fixed.'  He took the opportunity, with her out of the room, to adjust his penis. As it shrank out of sight, Dylan sighed with relief.

He had just zipped up when Rita, dressed in a plush robe, returned to the living area. Dylan smiled weakly and was about to speak. She put her hand up and fiercely shook her head. She was furious, "No—you don't talk—until you answer these questions. Why were you playing with your balls? AND WHY, IN FUCKING HELL, AREN'T YOU EVER HARD?"

Dylan winced, "I'm sorry Rita, this may take a while to explain."

"I've got time," she replied tersely.

"Umm, okay—umm let's see." Dylan struggled with the words. "Remember when I told you about the auto accident?"

"Yes, yes, go on."

"As you know I was pretty banged up, my leg was broken, and well, umm I had some other issues too."

"Come on Dylan quit stalling and get to the point." Rita rasped, as her rage grew logarithmically.

"Umm, okay. One of those issues was my pelvis. It was also cracked and it affected my ability to ahhh, get an—erection." Dylan became jittery when Rita's eyes narrowed to slits, "I, we, umm, I thought at first it was all the medications I was on, but it turned out the damage affected the blood supply and it umm," his voice quieted, "it...it couldn't be fixed so, umm the doc..."

Rita was incensed, "Wait just a fucking minute: you mean to tell me that your dick is broken and you can't get hard?"

Dylan sputtered, "Well yes—I mean no, but if you let me expl..."

Rita interrupted and screamed, "You've got to be kidding me! All the time we dated your cock was busted and you didn't fucking tell me? What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you enjoy playing fucking games? Shit, I was beginning to like you a lot and now you tell me you can't get hard?"

Dylan implored, "Rita, I can explain, it's not what you..."

Rita was furious at being played and tore into Dylan. "You impotent son of a bitch, get the fuck out of my home! Go on! Leave! God damn it all to hell, you are nothing more than a ball-less motherfucking asshole. There's a name for castrated pieces of shit like you. You're a fucking—eunuch, GET OUT!!" she spat.

Dylan wilted beneath her tirade. She refused to listen. So much for 'third time's the charm'. He gathered himself and without saying another word headed toward the door and opened it to leave. He took one step out and froze when he heard—'eunuch'. Old memories of long ago reared their ugly head and they shattered him. Devastated, Dylan sobbed loudly when he left her apartment.

Rita heard his anguished cry and finished her assault, "Aww, did I hear a sob from the itty bitty baby? Go home to mommy you fucking asshole!" She slammed the door behind him as he left.

Dylan shuddered at the vivid memory, and decided to immediately contact his therapist. He picked up his cell phone and punched the speed dial. Just before he hit send, Dylan realized he must make amends with Emilio and find her—to apologize. He pressed the onscreen button and wondered about doing something more for her.

****

"Thanks Emilio," Dylan loudly said as he threw his waste into the trash. Emilio nodded and Dylan was once again thankful that his friend accepted his apology four days before. He walked away to start the day's search for the doe eyed woman. He was perplexed that he hadn't seen her yet; after all she was tall and by rights should stand out. Today, he strode to the east end of the park and after fifteen minutes spotted her on a bench under a tall shade tree. 




Half the Man Ch. 04



Dylan pumped his fist and headed her way but slowed when he realized she was with someone. He didn't want to intrude and thought it might be best to try again tomorrow. He was about to leave when the man jumped up and pointed a finger at her. Dylan was surprised that the hairs on his neck stood up when the man yelled at the woman. He couldn't make out what was said, but the tone was anything but friendly. Finally the man threw up his hands and stalked off. She looked the other way, apparently upset.

Dylan quickly walked over and heard a soft sigh. His heart felt heavy, but he had to talk to her. He cleared his throat and she turned her head. Her large eyes opened wide when she realized who it was.

Dylan took out a small piece of paper and in a serious voice, "I have a cleaning bill that you need to take care of. Do you realize how difficult and expensive mustard stains are to get out?"

The woman looked crestfallen at his words. She reached into her purse. "No, I don't. H...How much is it?" she whispered and pulled out her wallet.

"Here, you read it."

Dylan handed her the paper, which she unfolded and read. Her eyes opened wide, but this time in disbelief. She looked up and saw the sparkle in his golden eyes and the big smile on his face. She wiped the incipient tears from her eyes before laughing.

"I understand and accept your kind apology. I will gladly pay this price for 'tie-dying' your shirt."

Dylan relieved she had a sense of humor bowed, "Thank you milady." He offered his hand and introduced himself. "My name is Dylan Hunt."

She grasped it and replied, "Harper, Harper Smythe."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Ms. Smythe. Will the day after tomorrow work for you?"

"Let me check my calendar good sir." Harper smiled and studied her phone. "I do believe I can squeeze you in." 

He chuckled, "Wonderful. I will inform Emilio to have his finest ready,"  'And,'  he thought,  'hide the mustard too.' 

"I'll pick you up at noon—oh, where should I meet you?"

"Noon is fine, and one of the benches at the north end works for me," she replied with a smile on her face.

He kissed her hand, "In two days milady Harper." Dylan waved goodbye and triumphantly returned to the office. Harper watched him leave and this time her blue eyes moistened with happiness.

****

Dylan patted his pocket and grinned as he left the office to meet Harper. He looked forward to finishing his apology. He believed this would be the turning point he desperately needed so he could move on with his life. He was very tired of his life being as if each time he took two steps forward, he was forced to take one step back. He hoped soon it would be two steps forward and none back.

He groaned at the step analogy because today he had to walk slower, a lot slower. His shoes didn't have the heel lift to compensate for his short left leg. He had decided to wear a different pair this morning and neglected to transfer the orthotic. Well, actually he forgot. He knew it was missing when he stepped into the car, but that morning he'd been too lazy to go back for it. He had gone without it before for short stretches and figured one day wouldn't hurt. He figured wrong. 

Without the lift, his gait changed and after being on his feet most of the morning his body protested. It was a domino effect. First the ankle hurt, then his knee became tender, followed by an agonizing pain in his hip. The limp that was all but gone normally was now very noticeable. He became self-conscious and thought about canceling today, but realized he had no way to contact Harper. Instead he took a couple of ibuprofen and by the time that lunchtime came, the pain was manageable.

He made his way to where Harper should be sitting and sure enough, there she was. He took a breath and walked as normally as possible.

"Hello Ms. Smythe! Ready to finish paying for the shirt you destroyed?" he asked with a serious demeanor.

Harper smiled when she heard him. She put her tablet down and looked up. Immediately she saw the pain reflected in his golden eyes. "Are you okay Dylan?"

Dylan, surprised by her perceptiveness, was about to blow off her question but instead acknowledged it. "As a matter of fact, my leg is sore. Thank you for asking. Shall we?" Dylan presented his crooked arm to Harper.

She slid her tablet in her purse stood up and took his arm. Dylan looked up, thinking, 'Definitely taller than six-one.' 

"I'm six-foot-four."

Dylan did a double take, "How did you know what I was thinking?"

She chuckled, "It's always the first question asked by the men I go out with. So I simply answer it before they ask."

Dylan laughed, "Economical."

"I guess it is." She laughed then she became serious, "What's wrong with your leg?"

"It's an old injury from a few years ago that decided to flare up. Nothing to worry about," he replied cheerily.

Harper squeezed his arm as an affirmation and with a goofy 'little girl' voice asked, "What are we having for lunch? I am a growing girl you know."

Dylan smiled at her silly sounding question and simply said, "It's a surprise." 

He quickly forgot about his sore leg and limp as they walked together to the lunch cart. He enjoyed her company. She had a quick wit and was very personable. She told him where she worked and what she did there. Dylan reciprocated and gave her a brief background on his job. He had just finished his explanation when they arrived at Emilio's.

"Good afternoon and welcome to Emilio's — the finest lunch cart in the park."

Emilio winked at Dylan then looked up at Harper. "Madam, your friend has taken the liberty to pre-order your luncheon." He pointed to a picnic table, "There you go. Bon-appétit!"

"Thank you Emilio," Dylan replied in mock seriousness before escorting Harper to their table. She laughed when she saw the place settings: paper plates, plastic flatware and a bud vase with a single plastic rose. On each plate were two hot dogs, a bag of chips and carrot sticks along with a packet of ranch dressing. In the center of the table stood two water bottles and what looked like pecan pie for dessert.

Dylan motioned for Harper to sit. When she was seated he very carefully sat down. He took a second to get comfortable then looked at the smiling woman across the table.

"Does everything meet with milady's expectations?" he asked.

She scanned the table and feigned confusion, "It most certainly does except I don't see–any—mustard."

Dylan chuckled, "Ahh yes. Considering madam's proclivity with squeeze bottles, I decided on an alternative." He reached into his pocket and pulled out several different packets.

"We have brown, whole grain, German, yellow and of course Dijon as your selections today."

Harper laughed, "Why thank you, I think I would like yellow on one and whole grain on the second."

"Excellent choices! May I apply them for you?"

"What's the matter, don't trust me?" she asked, her voice dripping with phony indignation.

"As a matter of fact..." Dylan chuckled then handed her one packet of each.

The lunch went well and too soon it was over. Dylan winced when he tried to stand and sat back down. Harper rushed to his side to help him up. He steadied himself and patted her arm to say thank you. Dylan cleared off the picnic table and hobbled to the trash.

"I hope you enjoyed today; I know I did." Dylan said happily. "Perhaps in the future we can do this again. Consider your debt to be paid–in–full."

Harper laughed at his last remark and replied, "I'd like that. Here is my card, just call me." She leaned down and kissed his bearded cheek. "Thank you Dylan. I hope your leg feels better. See you soon."

Harper picked up her purse and headed back to work. Dylan thought lunch went pretty well as he watched her walk away. He felt much better and hoped he could put the past behind him. He even considered calling her sometime.

He carefully hobbled to Emilio and gave him a twenty. "What's this? You already paid me. I can't accept it."

"Sure you can my friend. You did more than I expected, and this is just a small token of my appreciation."

"Well, thank you. Ever since you came here two-and-a-half years ago you've been very gracious and I appreciate that." Emilio hugged his friend, "Dylan if you don't mind me asking, what do you think of her?"

"I think she is very nice and I hope someday she finds the love of her life. Anyway, thanks again I have to get back."

Dylan thought about Harper as he made the slow trek back to work. He was very truthful when he told Emilio she was very nice and since he was being honest, he thought it was the best 'non-date' he had since the divorce. 

He liked her, but didn't feel a physical connection. Dylan preferred his women much shorter and curvy, with long flowing hair. Harper was very tall and from what he noticed on the smallish side up top. She was skinny with no hips or ass to speak of. Except for her height she was rather—plain. He envisioned her shoulder length black hair. He wondered how it would look blonde and longer when suddenly he stopped and cursed.

"Jeez you stupid fucking ass," he chastised himself, "What the hell are you doing picking her body apart and comparing it with your previous women?" He paused, "Am I such a shallow person that I only care about what a woman looks like? Shit, she's friendly, nice and helpful. Her voice is melodic and I could swim in those huge blue eyes. Yet all I think about is her tits, ass, hair and, oh yeah: how tall she is."

He shook his head in disgust. "AND who the fuck am I? I grew a beard to cover my past, my left leg is shorter than my right, and don't get me started on the middle one. My marriage lasted less than a year and my love life the past four years, if you could even call it that, has been pretty much in the dumpster. The last 'girlfriend' screwed me up so badly that I couldn't talk to another woman for six months. Then I have the audacity to compare Harper to them?"

Dylan sighed and without thinking started a brisk walk to cool off. His left side protested after only two steps and the pain forced him back one step. The analogy was not lost.  'No more,'  he thought and at a much slower pace, one step at a time he returned to the office.

The following Wednesday, Dylan pulled out Harper's card for the umpteenth time and was about to put it back in his wallet when instead he plucked up his courage, picked up his phone and punched in her number. A sweet voice answered and buoyed his confidence.

"Hi milady, its Dylan. I was wondering if you would like to meet for lunch this Friday at 'Emilio's in the Park'."

"Straight to the point I see. I like that." She paused for just a moment before a replying, "Friday would be fine, but could we do it tomorrow instead?"

Dylan rejoiced on the inside, but in a normal voice, "Tomorrow is perfect. Noon?"

"11:45 A.M., north end."

"That is also perfect. See you tomorrow."

She replied, "Super. Thanks for calling, Dylan, and I'll see you tomorrow." And then she was gone.

Dylan put the phone down sat back in his chair and thought,  'No more going backwards, no matter what. If this works out great, if not that's great too. No more reversing course. It's all forward from now on. L'audace, l'audace, toujours l'audace!' 

Harper immediately asked about his leg when they met. Her thoughtfulness set the tone for a highly pleasurable day and an encore on Friday. Dylan appreciated her company and they set another lunch date for the following Tuesday. 

Their conversations centered on current topics, or work and any references to their personal histories were only by allusion. They met one to two times a week for almost a month before Dylan asked her to dinner and a movie. Harper enthusiastically accepted with a hard kiss on his lips. Dylan was pleasantly surprised by her aggressiveness and blissfully shocked when he felt a familiar tingle.

He drove to Harper's apartment complex and wound his way inside. He found her building and knocked on the door. Dylan had never seen Harper outside of work and was speechless when the door opened. Harper was dressed in a light blue mini-dress with black leggings and boots. She complemented the look with a dark black jacket and a silver chained necklace. Her large blue eyes shimmered with a touch of eye shadow enhanced by thick, sensuous eyeliner. Her cheekbones were framed by her jet black hair and her ever-present bangs glowed. The finishing touch was a light pink lipstick that looked wet and—sexy. Dylan shivered with passion and knew if things were his pre-accident norm, he would have broken the zipper on his pants.

Harper's voice was music to his ears, "Hi there handsome. Shall we go?"

She laughed hard when Dylan walked right past her.

"No silly! Not 'go in' my apartment, but 'go out' on our date." Dylan blushed through his beard.

Embarrassed he turned and faced her mesmerizing loveliness, "For a moment I was taken aback. You look so beautiful that my mind was not really focused on what I was doing. Sorry..."

"You think I'm beautiful?"

Dylan gazed far up and deep into her large winsome eyes. He whispered, "Yes." He almost got lost inside the orbs of her soul when he suddenly exclaimed, "You're taller!" He looked down to see her black boots had heels—four-inch heels.

Dylan backed away and with apparent irritation asked, "Heels Harper, really? You do understand that instead of five inches, you are now nine inches taller and completely tower over me?"

Harper initially felt terrible; she just wanted to look good, and the boots combined with the leggings really shaped her legs. Then she remembered their first meeting and inside she laughed,  'Oh no you don't, not again.'  She answered him with a puppy dog face, "I'm sorry, I'll go change..."

"You most certainly will not," he interrupted, and lovingly continued, "I don't give a damn if you are ten inches taller, in fact I don't care if you're two feet taller. I am honored to be your date, and I can look up into your big blues all night long."

Harper outwardly ignored his loving words and replied, "But you said... and I thought—and you...you 'short' bastard, you were messing with me!" She laughed out loud, and smacked him on the shoulder.

"Guilty as charged." Then with a sad face he added, "But I do have one regret."

"I'm afraid to ask, but I'll take the bait. What is your regret?"

He loudly sighed, "There's no music! With those heels I would be at the perfect height for slow dancing—wouldn't you agree?" and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Dylan!" Her eyes narrowed angrily as she yelled, "We haven't even been on one date outside of lunches and you're already scheming to cop a feel? My goodness what are you? A pervert?"

Her outburst startled him and with his head down, he sheepishly replied, "I'm sorry, I was just kid..."

Harper grabbed Dylan and pulled him to her. She ran her fingers through his sandy brown hair, his cheek firmly sandwiched between her two doves.

"Just remember, you're not the only one with a wry sense of humor," she whispered in a serious voice.

Before he could react she pushed him away and headed to his car. Dylan, left behind on her porch laughed,  'She turned the tables and played me—she played me.' 

He hurried to open her car door and as he walked to the driver's side he thought,  'Every time I see her I learn something new. There is more to her than I ever thought, and I'm liking it. Dinner should be—interesting.' 

They arrived at the Cineplex and agreed that no popcorn was necessary. Dylan purchased the tickets and escorted his date into the theater as coming attractions lit up the screen. Harper whispered after the second preview she was thirsty and gave him $5 for a bottle of water. He chuckled kissed her cheek and handed the money back. He returned just as the lights dimmed and the feature started. He reached Harper and noticed two things. The center armrest was up and her jacket was off. Dylan sat down, handed her the bottle and enjoyed the warmth of skin-to-skin contact. She curled into him and another part of him warmed—his heart.

The movie ended and the closing credits started. Just before the house lights came up Harper put her jacket on. Dylan got up to help and thought he saw a touch of color on her right arm before her jacket covered it. He was curious about what he saw, but didn't say anything. He took her hand, gave it a kiss and they left for dinner.

The restaurant had a dance floor and, although they were fairly busy, the hostess seated the couple after a ten-minute wait. Harper kept her jacket on as Dylan's curiosity grew. They ordered drinks as the music started. Dylan hadn't danced since before the accident, but tonight that was going to change. He got up and nodded to his doe eyed date.

"Do I have to take my boots off?"

"Of course not," he answered with a smile.

She grinned and the two moved onto the floor. Dylan held his own for the first fast dance, but after the second he was ready to sit. Harper sensed his pain and wondered about his leg. They were almost back at their table when a song with a much slower tempo started.

"Is your leg doing okay?" she inquired.

"It's a bit sore, but manageable."

"Great!" she said before dragging him back onto the dance floor.

Dylan balked initially, then Harper quipped, "Don't worry you pervert. I'll keep you at arm's length."

It wasn't that earlier incident which caused his hesitation; he had never slow danced with a taller woman, so he was a bit perplexed as to just how to go about it. Harper quickly understood his dilemma. She grasped his hand and placed it on the small of her back. The other she held and they danced. Throughout the song they never took their eyes off each other and before Dylan realized it, his chin was nestled between her breasts once again.

Uncertain of what response to expect, he looked up into her face. Harper winked and whispered, "You know when I said I would keep you at arm's length? I lied."

Dylan let go of her hand, slid his hand up her arm and caressed her long neck. Harper closed her eyes and softly moaned. He eased her head down and soon their lips touched. He gently parted her lips and tickled her tongue with his. She pressed harder and thrust her tongue deep inside. Now there were two dances, one on the floor and the second in his mouth. When the music ended, the kiss did too. Dylan felt the love and serenely led Harper to their table.

The short silence ended before they sat down. Dylan asked, "You seem warm would you like me to take your jacket?"

"Please."

He slid the darkness off her shoulders and placed it on the back of her chair. He briefly caressed her shoulders and held her chair as she sat. He didn't peek. Once seated, he walked around the table and eased into the chair. He raised his eyes and was astonished. She had a—'sleeve.' The tattoo was a tree with a long twisted trunk and leaves of green. There were large flowers of many different hues on several branches and a circle of mountains with snowy peaks below her elbow. The colors were beautifully blended and shaded with care. This was truly a work of art. He sat back in his chair and simply stared.

Harper smiled across the table at the astonished man, "Well?"

"Well what?" was his befuddled reply.

She held her arm out for him to examine, "Do you like it?" 

He thought it was pretty and assured her with sincerity, "It is very bewitching — a work of art and I find it exquisite. I'm surprised I hadn't noticed it before tonight."

She laughed, "Come on Dylan, you know where I work." Then she mockingly recited, "The company dress code mandates there are to be no visible tattoos or facial jewelry in order to maintain a professional non-distractive work environment. This policy will be strictly enforced, blah, blah, blah." She took a short breath, "So that's why you haven't seen it, because I only wear long sleeve blouses to work."




Half the Man Ch. 04



"That makes sense," he said quietly. Then he asked with trepidation, "I don't mean to cause offence, but I never considered you to be the type to have body art. Especially umm, one that stands out so much. Does that make sense?"

Harper grinned and reached for his hand. "I am not offended and yes, it actually makes sense. I had this done nine years ago on my eighteenth birthday to help my confidence."

Dylan puzzled by her statement asked, "I've known you for just a short time, but as I see it, you are very articulate and have a lovely sense of humor. I have enjoyed our lunches; my fondness for you has grown every time we've seen each other. To be perfectly honest, tonight has been magical. Milady you are so poised and so sure of who you are. I...I don't understand how the tattoo helped?"

Harper flushed when he said 'magical'; it was the perfect way to describe her feelings too. She gazed into his eyes and was comforted. He was curious, but he hadn't judged her like so many others before had.

She sipped her drink and explained, "When I was ten, I was playing kickball in the park with my friends. Mary kicked the ball between Julie and me. Julie, being faster, got to the ball first. I was about ten feet behind. When she picked it up a dog ran out of woods and snarled at us. I could hear our parents yelling, 'Don't move'. Julie started to shake, then she took a small step back and the dog moved towards her. Her father yelled again, 'Don't move'. The dog took another step and she screamed, dropped the ball and ran. Before I could turn, the dog lunged. I put my arm up for protection and the next thing I remember was when I woke up in the hospital with my right arm heavily bandaged."

She paused and took another sip. "When I was finally able to see my arm, I almost fainted. It was purple blotchy and covered with ugly jagged lines. I remember the doctor telling my mom it took over two hundred stitches. When the wounds healed, what was left was a mottled mess of angry red stripes that looked horrific. I had plastic surgery, which helped, but only a little. My friends supported me and soon life returned to almost normal. 

"Then when I turned twelve, I grew 14 inches. I went from 4' 6" to 5' 8". At that point my life became a living hell.

"My dad got transferred and I had to say goodbye to all my friends. The new school looked nice, but instead of making friends I became a target of ridicule. I was the tallest kid in class, and had a hideous looking arm. Being the new kid and with all the raging hormones of the age group, school was a nightmare for me. 

"My parents helped the best they could, but I had no friends and I just crawled into my shell. Next was high school where I was a six-foot-tall beanpole. Three schools merged into one and the insults tripled. I wore long sleeves to hide my scars and that helped a little, but I couldn't hide my height. When I turned sixteen, I got a job after school at a restaurant. One day I came to work in short sleeves and the manager sent me home to change. He didn't want me to 'scare the customers.' Talk about a smack in the face. It was then I started to think about getting a tat."

She took a drink, "I saw quite a variety of tattoos as I waitressed and I wondered if that could help conceal my scars. I went to the parlor down the street and when I got the courage to walk in, I met Cirella. She had the most beautiful tattoos and, how can I say it in polite company, some of them were in places I never dreamed possible. I showed her my arm and asked how much it would cost to hide the pain. Cirella hugged me when she saw the damage. She carefully examined the area around the scar and explained that a three-quarter sleeve would be best. The cost depended on the design and she said a minimum of $700. Cirella also mentioned that I had to be eighteen-years old before she could legally tattoo me. I thanked her and let her know I would be back a few weeks before my eighteenth birthday so she could design the 'new me.'

"I saved money and didn't tell my parents what my plans were. When I turned seventeen, I was 6' 2" and still the tallest girl in the school. I continued working at the restaurant and had saved pretty close to $3,000. I saw Cirella a month before I became legal and she came up with this design. It took five three-hour sessions over eight months and cost me $2,200. But when it healed it was worth every penny. My parents were upset at first, but when they saw the finished product my mom gushed over it. To my surprise, Mom had Cirella tattoo a rose on the outside of her ankle. Dad loved her tat and later surprised her with one of his own. Go figure.

"Dylan, this beautiful body art restored my confidence. It fueled my determination to overcome the years of ridicule. When I entered college that fall I was at my full height and I held my head high. No one bothered me and I was able to finally live. I made friends and I actually 'walked on' the varsity volleyball team. So my sweet man that's pretty much the story behind my tat."

Dylan was about to express his admiration for her courage when his ears pricked up as a new song started. He got up and surprised Harper by asking her to dance. Dylan ran his hand over her right arm and kissed it several times as they moved with the music. He looked up and saw her beautiful blue doe eyes were wet with happiness.

He softly sang for her ears only,   "I'm on your magical mystery ride and I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright."   He reached behind her head and gently brought her lips to meet his once more.

Harper broke the kiss several stanzas later and sang only for him,   'You're my downfall, you're my muse, My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues, I can't stop singing, it's ringing in my head for you.'   She lifted his chin and kissed him hard. 

The song ended and the fledgling couple went back to the table to enjoy their dinner. When they arrived back at her place, he accepted her invitation for a nightcap.

Harper opened the door, "Now," she said, referring to his earlier faux-pas, "you can come in."

He blushed at her remark. She took off her jacket, tossed it on a chair and asked if he would like a drink. 

He replied, "Some water would be nice." 

When she came back she groaned slightly, "My feet are killing me. Would you hold my drink so I can get these boots off?" 

Dylan nodded and took her glass. She sat on the couch and slid off her left boot. Before she could do the right she heard, "May I?"

She looked at him with bemusement, "But of course you may, kind sir."

Dylan handed her drink back to her before he leaned over and lowered the boot's zipper. He lifted her leg, pulled the boot off and placed it alongside the other. Then he caressed her long calf and slowly moved his hands down to her foot. He rubbed the heel and kneaded her sole.

"Oh, does that feel good! You can do that all night." Her voice was throaty.

"Put your feet on my lap and I'll be happy to."

So she did! 

First, Dylan worked on the bottom of her foot, before moving his fingers to massage and squeezed her tired toes. Harper threw her head back and moaned. He switched and did the same thing to her other foot. He finished by kissing each of her stocking clad toes. Harper almost swooned.

Her voice was relaxed, "Oh my lord! Can I hire you? That felt wonderful."

Dylan laughed a low gentle laugh before replying, "I'm absolutely available as a personal 'foot masseur' for the right person. But may I ask you another question? I am curious about something."

Harper pouted, "I don't think that's fair. I told you about my tat and I still don't know much about you except you're a helluva dancer, give great kisses and dynamite foot massages."

He laughed, "Just answer this one and I will tell you some things about me."

"Oh, okay—go ahead."

"How long are your legs?"

"My, you certainly are the curious one." She chuckled, "My inseam is 39-and-a-half inches long. Satisfied?"

"Yes," he laughed and then asked, "What would you like to know?"

"Everything."

"Hahaha. My dear, to answer that will take a very long time and probably put you to sleep too. Can you be more specific?"

She pondered for a bit, "Have you ever been married?"

Dylan winced which Harper noticed immediately. She was about to tell him to forget it when he spoke. "The answer is yes. The marriage lasted less than a year and ended in divorce four years ago."

Saddened, she apologized, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's all right—that's in my past." He thought for a second, "It will take a bit, but if you want to know more, I will tell you." She nodded and curled her legs under her.

Dylan went through almost everything about his marriage, from how he and Mari met all the way through the divorce. Harper hung on to every word and when he described some of his injuries from the auto accident, she hugged him tight. She then touched his beard with empathy and nodded her understanding with respect to why his leg bothers him so much. 

Harper held his hand when he spoke of the insurance company, and how John Quade, along with four others, ended up in prison. She cried when he revealed how his short marriage ended, and she loathed the scheming 'bitch' for her contribution to its demise.

She heard admiration and reverence when he talked about Peter Kimbridge his former boss and good friend. She was very impressed with all Peter did and deeply moved that he helped reconcile Dylan with his parents.

She laughed through her tears how Peter responded when Dylan said he was like a father, "Son while I appreciate the sentiment, I am a poor substitute for the real thing. It's time you called and reconnected with your parents. They should know what's going on in your life."

It was a long overdue, highly emotional reunion.

They both cried when Dylan made the decision to leave Kimbridge Marketing and move closer to home. Peter understood completely and his glowing recommendation helped Dylan secure an excellent job with Promoden.

"That's almost everything Harper—if it weren't for Peter, I wouldn't be here now," Dylan finished.

"I'm so happy you had him in your life Dylan and am glad you two keep in touch. Now come over here and kiss me."

Dylan moved closer and took her in his arms. He traced his hand along the borders of her tattoo and kissed it tenderly. Harper pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him hard. She took his hand placed it on her small breast and moaned when he squeezed her nipple. Dylan's cock pulsed with want. She pushed him off and stood up. With her back to him she coyly asked him to unzip her dress. His mood went from joy to apprehension. It was too soon for him to share that part of his life, but he desperately didn't want to spoil the mood of the evening. Still he had to say something.

Dylan got up caressed her arms and reached around her waist. He pulled her tight, raised his head and whispered, "Harper, I don't want to sour this moment but I'm not ready to make love quite yet."

He was stunned when Harper loudly chuckled. She turned, faced the anxious man and said in a sweet voice, "Dylan, Dylan, Dylan. Who said anything about a homerun? I always start at first base and in order to get there I need your help with my dress. I never even mentioned second base, third base, or a homerun. And if you try to stretch a single into a double you will be thrown out at second! Now be a gentleman and help me or I will rip your shirt off and you'll have to take me out on another date before you get to first base, let alone second."

Dylan grinned when she turned back around and held up her black hair. He grasped the zipper on her light blue dress and slowly lowered it. He took hold of her loosened dress and slid it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor where Harper's long legs sensuously stepped out of it. She covered her small breasts before turning around. 

Dylan drank in her beauty, appreciating her lovely body art in all its unfettered glory. He admired the magnificent sunrise that decorated her shoulder. It had many shades of reds, oranges and yellows. He was impressed at how seamlessly the colors blended into the tree and was blown away how well her sleeve hid her many scars. 

Dylan grinned and stepped back. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, and let it fall. Her blue eyes sparkled when he flexed his gym sculpted muscles and she moved closer. Harper, with her breasts still concealed, leaned down and kissed the scar on his abdomen. She then stood tall, looked down at him and snuggled tight. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her freed doves into his chest.

Dylan moaned, nuzzled her neck and whispered hoarsely, "I want to see you to revel in your beauty."

Harper took Dylan's face and held his head. She took a step back and let go. Dylan licked his lips and looked downward slightly. He almost came when he saw her hidden treasures. Her small, impossibly white, breasts were adorned with silver dollar puffy nipples the shade of coral. Dylan had never seen nipples like these and stared in awe. He reached out and touched her delicate coral flesh. He rolled his thumb around the large areola causing Harper to moan with pleasure. Her nipple became erect and proudly stood out.

He took her in his strong arms and posed her on the couch like a painting of an odalisque. Dylan drank in her loveliness as she lay, naked from the waist up. He spoke to the vision, "You are so unlike anyone I have ever been with. Your legs are sinuous and so very long. Your eyes are larger than the moon and bluer than the noonday sky. And what makes it all so incomprehensible to me is that I was drawn to your personality first. This is more than lust—so much more."

Her heart melted at his tender touching words. 

Dylan dropped to his knees and worshipped her. He caressed her tattoo, and nipped her neck. He mouthed her breast and greedily sucked on the oversized tip. Her nipple, to his wonder, tightened more and protruded further. He released his mouth, grabbed the erect bud and squeezed.

Harper squirmed and moaned, "Ohhhh yes! Squeeze it, my sweet man."

Dylan tightened his grip and kissed her lips. She hungrily sought his tongue and together they explored the inner sanctum. Dylan forgot her earlier warning and snaked his hand under the waist of her leggings. Harper gently removed the intruder and lovingly kissed it.

"Not yet," she said, her voice throaty with desire. "I...I...want to, but not yet. Please stop."

Dylan stood and grasped her hand. He pulled her up and into his bare chest. Her silver dollars pressed hard above his pectorals. He spoke to her with heartfelt tenderness, "Lady Dove, I would also love to continue, but I understand we must take our time. I too have my reasons." He kissed her once more, picked up her dress and handed it to her. She quietly set it on the couch reached for her jacket and slipped it on.

He pulled his shirt on and as he buttoned it she softly asked, "You called me 'Lady Dove.' Why?"

"Your lovely breasts remind me of two snow white doves and you are definitely a lady. So you are my Lady Dove."

Harper eyes moistened at her new pet name. She would cherish this moment forever.

He squeezed her hand, "Lunch tomorrow, Lady Dove?"

"Of course my sweet man, 11:30 A.M.?"

He nodded and kissed her goodnight. Before he released, he found her large areola and pinched. Harper moaned, but still managed to open the door and send him on his way. She closed it and sighed.

****

It was an overcast day when a joyful, but pensive Dylan snuck up behind Harper and covered her eyes. "Guess who, Lady Dove?"

"About time you got here—Troy." She giggled, as the western sky darkened imperceptibly behind them.

He laughed with her and sat down. "Before we head over to Emilio's, I want to thank you for a lovely time last night. I learned so much about you and I truly find you awesome."

Harper cuddled up, "I enjoyed your company too and I am really looking forward to spending a lot of time together." She kissed his cheek and felt him flinch ever so slightly. She looked in his golden eyes and saw worry. "Dylan something is troubling you. What is it?"

Dylan sighed at her words. He had been up most of the night thinking about his problem and 'what to do' about it. After the gruesome break up with Rita, he concluded Harper needed to hear about the 'deal-breaker' before their relationship evolved any further.

He looked into her large blue orbs, "Something is bothering me Lady Dove. I need to tell you what happened after the auto accident and what it did to—another part of me. I will gloss over some things, but when I finish you have a decision to make."

She immediately sat up. This wasn't a joke. Dylan was serious, very serious. She touched his beard and took his hand, "Talk to me, my sweet man."

Wisps of gravel-gray clouds oozed and billowed across the noontime sun, casting the park into a shadowy darkness that neither saw. Dylan, after a few anxious breaths, turned and faced Harper.

"When I was discharged from the hospital I wasn't myself, because of the many different medications I was on. Those meds had a profound impact on my moods and I as I've already told you, I wasn't a very nice guy to Mari." He paused, "Later I learned those meds had other side effects, which, umm, caused issues in other areas. Those problems were the catalysts that led to the divorce."

Harper flinched and Dylan took a sharp breath before he continued, "We tried the blue pills and I...I made a poor decision which put me back in the hospital for a few hours. That scared the shit out of me and Mari."

Dylan felt her grip tighten. "It was there I met Dr. Harb, a well-respected urologist, who after several tests discovered that the auto accident did more damage than was first thought—a lot of damage.

"I learned I couldn't–UGH!" Dylan suddenly cried out in pain. Someone had yanked him off the bench and tossed him onto the ground.

Harper, stunned, looked up and screamed, "Darnell! What are you doing here? Leave him alone!" 

Dylan got to his hands and knees as Darnell yelled, "Get the fuck away from my fiancé you mother fucking asshole!!"

 'Darnell? Fiancé??' What the hell is going on?' 

Dylan regained his equilibrium and stood up. He ignored the dull throb in his leg and faced his attacker. Dylan immediately recognized Darnell. He had seen him yelling at Harper in the park four days after the mustard incident.

Darnell angrily moved towards him. Dylan flexed his arms.

Darnell stopped short and spat at Dylan, "Listen, mother fucker—Harper's my woman! My fiancé! Now tuck your tail between your legs and get the fuck outta here."

Dylan, stunned, turned and stared at Harper. She hadn't said a word except when she named his attacker. Her large blue eyes found his and there was fear in them.

 'Is that fear for me, or fear of—being caught?' 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his attacker move. "Stop right there big man!" Dylan yelled. "I want some answers." Darnell opened his mouth to speak. Dylan stopped him immediately. "Not from you asshole. You just keep your mouth shut."

The big man immediately backed down.

Dylan turned and glared at Harper, "I need you to answer me one question. It's obvious you two know each other." Harper started to speak, but Dylan raised his hand. "Quiet—please let me ask my question."

Dylan calmed himself, "Is this man your fiancé?"

Harper put her head down.

"FUCK!" Dylan screamed, as thunder echoed in the distant.

End of Chapter 4

to be continued...



Half the Man Ch. 05



'Half the Man'© and its associated chapters is a copyrighted production of Mostera1©

Chapter 5

Dark gray clouds swirled ominously in the west, as the soft green lawns once full of people rapidly emptied. The dazzling jet blue sky above mutated to a premature menacing dusk as vendors hastily made their final sales. The many species of ducks huddled on the pond's banks and together waited for the appearance of the life giving moisture. Suddenly a deafening bellow followed by the heaven's stormy rage pierced the gathering darkness, and scattered the shore's multitude. A lone drop of water found the earth, but it did not come from the black mountains of seamless storm clouds.

Harper awakened by the anguished cry leapt to her feet and implored, "Dylan, stop, it's not what you think! Please wait! Don't leave, let me explain!"

Forlorn, he disregarded the pleas, and stoically wiped an unshed tear. A gentle patter announced the squalls leading edge had arrived. Dylan took no notice, and continued away from her, and her—fiancé.

Darnell laughed heartily and taunted the despondent soul, "Yeah that's right little man, go on get out of here, run aw..."

"YOU!" Harper glared and pointed a finger at the surprised bully, "Shut your mouth! You—do not control me—no one does. You—are no longer a part of my life; I dumped your ass eight months ago. So leave us alone you self-righteous pompous piece of sh..."

Darnell angered by her insolence ruthlessly grabbed her, and furiously spun her around. Harper yelped in pain.

Arrogantly he stared down at her defiance and barked, "You listen to me bitch, just like I told you last month; we aren't over until—I–say so. And I'm not...WHUFF!"

Darnell doubled over, the swift punch had caught him off guard. Painfully he looked up as a blurred fist connected and sent him sprawling. Stunned, he rolled onto his back and laid spread eagle on the ground. The skies opened and large water droplets awoke him from his stupor. He slowly blinked his eyes and lethargically rubbed his chin. He cried out in panic when the much shorter man harshly grabbed his collar and brutally hauled him up. Darnell recoiled at the adrenalin-fueled rage, the uncontrolled fury, and felt the sharp blade of fear pierce his stomach.

There was no gloating, the words were crisp and to the point, "Now, now Darnell didn't your mommy tell you that's no way to treat a lady?" Dylan pulled the scrawny lowlife's face down, and looked him squarely in the eye, "From what I heard 'big man', she dumped you a long time ago, so—why are you still bothering her?"

Darnell struggled vigorously to break free but was held by an inescapable vise. Suddenly he yelped, a hard slap almost took his head off, and he collapsed into Dylan's solid arms.

A low and menacing voice spoke, "Now that I have your attention again scumbag, I want you to listen, and listen well—I won't threaten your sorry ass, I don't believe in threats. But let's be perfectly clear where you stand—you are old news—very old news. You are no longer wanted, so you better make damn sure if you see me and especially if you see Harper—you turn and walk the other way. Do you understand me?"

Darnell winced when the vise drew tighter, and emphatically nodded yes. Dylan relaxed slightly and with an unyielding firmness ended the one sided conversation. "Excellent, I am glad we came to an—amicable understanding. Now tuck your tail between your legs and go."

Stunned to silence as the battle unfolded, Harper was thunderstruck how effortlessly her ex-fiancé was tossed away. Initially she feared for Dylan, but those fears were unfounded. The summer squall seemed docile compared to the unyielding ferocity of this juggernaut.

The routed man moaned and staggered off. A year ago she would have been upset and by his side. Today there was only contempt. Harper rubbed her arm while her rescuer kept a vigilant eye on her departing ex.

"Dylan," she said softly. He glanced back and she opened her arms. Her heart skipped when he smiled and walked towards her. She reached for him and welcomed him back.

Darnell had never been beat down before, in fact he had never been in a fight before. His height and brazenness always prevented it—until now. He was in unfamiliar territory, and was lost. He turned and saw the smile that a long time ago was only his.

Angered by his loss and now thirty feet away, his bravado returned. He spitefully shouted, "Don't come crying to me bitch, when you discover his package won't hold a candle to mine. He can't fill you like I can. You're gonna miss this baby." He grabbed his perceived prominence, and jutted it in her direction.

Dylan released her hand, and took a step towards the blustering braggart. The step coincided with a loud thunderclap that shook the ground. Darnell saw the smoldering fireballs in his adversary's eyes, and knew he was seriously outmatched. He turned swiftly, and shrieked one final epitaph as he hurried away, "You aren't worth the trouble, so go on, enjoy his tiny dick—if you can, and just remember I won't be there when you need a real man, and I know—you will."

Harper ignored the hateful words and focused her eyes, her mascara running down her cheeks, on the fearless man before her. "I...I...I'm so sorry, I should have told you about him, but I thought finally after last month he got the message and was gone for good. When you asked if he was my fiancé, I...I...I put my head down. You thought I was acknowledging a relationship. In reality I was embarrassed I hadn't told you."

Dylan took off his jacket, brushed the dirt from it and wrapped it around her damp shoulders. Concerned he took her hand and asked, "Are you okay, he didn't hurt you did he?"

"I'm just a little sore, but no he didn't hurt me. You stopped him." Her eyes teared up.

"Thank goodness you're alright," he exhaled, and tenderly kissed her cheek. He absently massaged her hand and spoke with a slight tremble, "There was no reason for you to tell me about him—we weren't in a committed relationship, and your past like mine, has always been yours to share or not." He reached up and toyed with her dark bangs, "Besides, how could you imagine he would do this? You couldn't of course—so there is nothing to apologize for."

He softly sighed, "I will admit when you put your head down after my question, I believed the worst." Harper started to speak, but he gently put his finger to her mouth. "Let me finish."

He took a short breath, gazed into her worried raccoon eyes and calmly continued, "I didn't care what you said or—what he had to say. I wasn't going to be a part of a love triangle so I left." He paused and after a deep breath, "Then you turned on him, and I not only heard your words, I felt them in here." He pointed to his heart. "Your emotion spoke volumes to me and I knew your truth—and his lies. When he grabbed you..." Dylan's face initially contorted, but quickly relaxed, "I won't dwell on what just happened, it's simply enough to say he would be a fool to bother you again."

Harper fixed her eyes on his as the surrounding storm's energy waned, and flashed a grin. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. Suddenly she gasped, "Oh my god Dylan—your leg! I was scared he hurt you when he pulled you off the bench. Are you okay?"

He stretched his thigh and replied, "When I first hit the ground, it hurt like hell, now it's only a dull throb." He chuckled before becoming more serious. "I'll take an ibuprofen tonight, and it should be fine by morning."

Around them, the once ominous western sky lightened noticeably as the tar black clouds dissolved into the east. The rain diminished, and the melody was like the clinking of fluted champagne glasses. Dragonflies flitted about the ozone charged air as the last of the stormy pearls trickled off the leaves.

Dylan looked up into the clearing sky, laughed and lightly touched his thigh, "You know before they removed the metal rod from my leg, I would have easily predicted this brief storm. But my career as an accurate weatherman lasted just over a year."

Her face contorted with laughter. "Aww! Short and sweet just like you."

Dylan snickered and wiped the dark streaks off her cheeks. She took his hand, and lovingly kissed it.

She thought for a moment and then calmly asked, "D, before we were interrupted, you were giving me background on a — specific problem. Can we meet later and continue that discussion?"

"'D' is it now?" He chuckled and after a long contemplative pause, "Yes, we can. We need to. How about I pick you up at 6:00 P.M. and we head over to the Dark Horse?"

She shook her head no, "Dark Horse is a great idea, but I think it's best if we talk first. Is 7:00 P.M. okay, and would you mind coming to my place?"

"Yeah that time works, and your place it is," he said in a voice that was surprisingly puny.

Dylan fought off his impending dread, and wrapped his arm around her waist. Side by side they quietly walked to her building. He opened the door and once inside, Harper, as she slid his jacket off her shoulders, shivered noticeably. Seeing her discomfort, he put the coat back on her, and lovingly fixed the collar. He caressed her arms, and tenderly kissed her hand.

"Keep it Lady Dove, I'll get it tonight."

She smiled broadly at her pet name, and pulled the jacket tight. She felt secure inside its warmth and savored his masculine aroma. "Until tonight my sweet man, and D, whatever it is we have to talk about—try not to worry." She leaned down kissed him, and walked to the elevator.

When the doors closed, Dylan stroked his beard and pondered her words.  'Try not to worry? How does a person not worry when they walk up the gallows stairs, and to their fate?'  Suddenly his eyes lit up and with a boisterous chuckle he spoke his thoughts aloud, "Head held high, one step at a time, greet the executioner with a disarming smile—and hope for a last minute pardon" Under his breath he added, "Well at least my executioner is pretty."

*****

It was 6:45 P.M. when Harper put the finishing touches on her apartment. She set the cloth on the table as her thoughts centered on why Dylan was so nervous. It was obvious it concerned his manhood, but what could it be? She wasn't exactly sure, and all sorts of different scenarios revolved in her mind. There was one that stood out, but she couldn't quite put it all together.

 'He mentioned there were several medication problems, and complications that landed him back in the hospital. The urologist said the auto accident caused more damage than was previously thought.'  The unsolved puzzled swirled randomly in her mind until slowly it coalesced and,  'Hmm, more–damage — more—damage. More—DAMAGE!'  Her eyes flashed.

"That's it!" she exclaimed, "That's it."

Suddenly she knew what it was. Harper picked up the cloth and wrung it in her hands. "Oh my lord, I figured out why his marriage ended. It's because he's—sterile!"

The auto accident damaged his testicles, and he can't father children. That's what he wanted to tell me before asshole interrupted us, that he's—sterile." She paused and wiped the table again. "I've always wanted to be a mom, but if he's sterile, that won't happen unless we adopt, or find a surrogate donor, or we..."

She put her head down and quietly chuckled, "Oh my. I'm sure getting ahead of myself, first things fi..."

There was a gentle knock on the door. Harper stopped her musings, tossed the cloth in the sink, and straightened her blouse. She went to the door and looked through the peephole. She did a double take. She recognized the eyes, but not the face they came with. Puzzled, she unlocked the door and opened it slowly.

"Hi Lady Dove."

Harper quickly closed the door, took off the safety chains, and when she reopened it she said with great surprise, "You—shaved!"

"Yeah, when I got home, I thought about tonight. I felt it was a—new beginning. So I made a decision to stop hiding behind masks, and got rid of the beard. I hope what's left meets with your approval." He smiled uncertainly.

It sure did. His face was rugged and tender, and without the beard his golden eyes brightly shined. She closed the door and faced him. Hesitantly she touched and turned his cheek. She looked carefully and could barely make out the fine lines his beard had hid.  'If his face was really as bad as he said it was—that plastic surgeon must have been a genius.'  She leaned down kissed both cheeks, and grasped his hand. His uneasiness showed for it felt cold and clammy.

She pulled him to her, and addressed his anxiety, "Listen to me, and you listen good. After what just happened, I feel so much stronger about us. I'm not naïve, I know we've only been on one 'official' date, but just as you felt my emotions, I feel you here too." She placed his hand on her heart. "D, honey, whatever it is you need to share, we'll work through it. Have faith."

She showed him into the dining area, and both sat at the table. After several seconds, Dylan softly spoke. "If you recall, I said Dr. Harb learned the injuries were very severe, and..." His eyes watered. "The blood vessels near my pelvis were damaged beyond his, or anyone else's skill to repair. So without adequate blood flow, I...I...I lost my ability to..."

"Have children," she abruptly said. "I figured it out, you're sterile. You can't have children. D, don't worry we'll get through this, there are lots of opt..."

Surprised by her words he interrupted, "What? No, that's not it Harper, I'm not sterile, I can't get—hard. I lost the ability to get an erection in the usual way. The accident left me with all the desires, sensations, and wants, but it also left me impotent."

He fell silent, and watched the quiet woman across the table. She seemed troubled by his revelation, and immediately he assumed the worst. He grasped her hand patted it gently and stoically said, "Maybe I should go, so you can think about this. Call me later—if you want."

He got up, but before he could move away she grabbed his hand tight, "No Dylan, wait. Sit—down. You can't leave, not until you answer some questions first," she said forcefully.

He shuddered. Her words and tone reminded him of—Rita. Soberly he replied, "Look I don't want to argue—after what happened with my last girlfriend, and to a lesser extent today, I don't need any more..." He let the sentence end. "Look, just let me leave okay? I won't bother you anymore, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Her grip tightened, and she leveled her eyes, "Dylan, sweetheart, I'm–sorry I spoke so abruptly. I had it in my head it was one thing, but now—I'm not sure about anything. As far as telling me sooner, think back to earlier today—and your words. We do not need to venture there." Her grip relaxed and she said sincerely, "D, baby, I don't want you to leave until you answer a few questions, and I promise not to get mad or angry. Please sit down and talk to me."

Dylan felt the warmth in her voice and decided it was time to have faith. The time had come to tell her—everything. He took a breath, sat back down, and slid closer to the table.

Harper was relieved he made the choice to stay, and before he changed his mind she quickly asked, "You're not sterile?"

His voice even he replied, "I'm not sterile. The tests after the accident showed an abundance of swimmers."

She nodded, "That's great. Umm you mentioned the accident left you impotent, and you umm, can't get an erection in the usual way—what did you mean?"

 'This is it,'  he thought,  'the blade is sharp and the lunette has been lowered.'

He nervously recapped what she already knew and when he came to the accidental overdose, she got upset and dabbed her eyes. He paused and when she nodded for him to continue he spoke of the meeting with the urologist, and how Mariette bolted when the doctor mentioned paralysis.

Dylan stopped for a short time to carefully choose his next words. When he was ready, he stared deeply into her nervous doe eyes, "Harper, the procedure had less than a five percent chance of success. When Mari returned, she didn't care to hear about the alternatives that were available. Her mind was made up on what I should do. She demanded I take that very small chance and have the high-risk surgery. But after I thought long and hard, I...I...I couldn't do it—I didn't want to lose sensation in my penis or spend the rest of my life in diapers."

He sighed emphatically, "That's when my marriage was lost. Her mother dug in and pulled Mariette's strings tight. We didn't have a chance, I didn't have a chance, and our short union was over." After a quick breath, "I contacted Dr. Harb to go over the options again after most of my facial reconstruction surgery was completed, and..." Dylan gathered himself.  'Don't panic, just say it,'  and with surreal calmness, "The alternative I chose to that radical procedure was a different surgery. I had a mechanical device, a prosthesis, implanted in my genitals, and lower abdomen. Inside my penis' shaft are special cylinders that can be quickly inflated, and voila—instant hard on. 

So Lady Dove, I'm not sterile, and I can get an erection—'with a little help from my friend.'" he deadpanned.

Dylan sighed and collapsed—it was done. He felt better, and hoped that when the blade fell, it would be relatively painless. He looked up and softly asked the pensive woman, "A nickel for your thoughts."

She snickered, "It'll cost more than a nickel— I'm not that cheap."

Her flippant response bothered him, but before he could respond, Harper hurriedly came behind him and patted his shoulders. She leaned down wrapped her arms around him and chastely kissed the top of his head. He was more than mildly puzzled when she sat back down.

Harper's next words were flat and hushed, "That was a simple 'thank you' for telling me this now." She paused, squirmed a bit, and in a very businesslike voice continued, "I completely understand what's going on and I appreciate the courage it took to share something so—intimate. I am grateful you did—before our relationship went further, because now it makes things a lot easier for me."

Dylan heard the blade start its descent and with sadness replied, "I...I'm glad it does—I didn't want you to be surprised later, and have hard feelings. So if I could have my coat—I'll say goodnight, and take my leave."

They both rose from their chairs. "Please wait here, your coat is in another room. I'll be right back," she said emotionlessly and turned to get it.

He forced a small smile, and slowly nodded his head. He felt wobbly, and grabbed the chair back to steady himself. He pivoted and looked up at the ceiling as a tear left his eye.  'Christ All-Mighty, this hurts worse than Rita's words. Damn, it even hurts more than my divorce. I really believed she was the...'  Hurriedly he wiped his eyes when she reentered the room.

As he turned to face his executioner for their final goodbye he said with melancholy, "Lady Dove before I go, I...I want you to know–I lo..." Dylan's jaw dropped.

There was Harper, all six foot four inches of her, casually leaning against the door. She was dressed in black heels, a pale yellow thong, and—his jacket. He couldn't take his eyes off her as the blade stopped just above his neck, and quickly faded from his mind. As the death scene disappeared, he realized he got played—again. Dylan ecstatically wiped the drool from his chin, and his dormant cock vibrated so hard he thought it might fall off.

She tousled her luxurious black hair, and faced the doorjamb. Her seductress persona grabbed hold and slowly stretched a long lithe leg high into the air. At its zenith she turned her head, soft bangs partially hid her large blue eyes and with a smooth sultry voice, "If you want your jacket—you'll have to come and get it."




Half the Man Ch. 05



She sensuously brought her foot down and turned away from him. Effortlessly she bent over, his jacket gradually road up her back and exposed her delectably slim ass cheeks. Bountiful nether lips dangled and peeked from either side of the pale colored thong. He could almost smell their invitation. His dick throbbed when she grasped her foot and wiggled her butt. He groaned with desire when she straightened up and sexily inched his coat down her shoulders. Again he admired the beautiful sleeve that adorned her arm as his jacket slid off. She grabbed the collar flipped it up over her right shoulder, and with the grace of a runway model, cat-walked topless into her bedroom.

Dylan still stunned by this unexpected turn of events, lowered his head and sheepishly followed her inside. He crossed the threshold and slowly raised his eyes. He saw first a discarded heel, then another, and just before the bed was her pale yellow thong darkened by her provocative dew. When his eyes beheld her, she was lying on the bed, his coat strategically placed to hide her charms. Anxious, he stepped inside her sanctuary.

"Stop right there," she throatily commanded, "Before you come any closer, I want you naked, and I want to see your—implant thingy in action."

He looked at her wide-eyed, "Umm, what happened to second and third base?"

She laughed, and with a sparkle in her eye, became serious, "D, with all that's happened today, I don't want or need to play games anymore. I know what I need, and who I want, and that's—you. I would like to explore your muscular body, and enjoy the man you truly are." She sat up, and let the jacket fall but not enough to expose her twin doves.

Harper licked her lips and continued, "But before you can enter my domain, you must answer this one small question for me."

Her actions and playfulness buoyed his confidence, "What is this question Lady Dove?"

Full of coyness she lowered her eyes and stretched cat like on the bed, "I don't have an extension cord; will that be a problem?"

Simultaneously mesmerized and puzzled he replied, "An extension cord? Why would we need an exten–sion—cord..." Suddenly his laughter filled the room, "No my dear we don't need an 'extension cord', or for that matter batteries. All that's required is nimble fingers and thumbs."

She pulled up the coat and devilishly asked, "Fingers and thumb? There's no remote control? You're kidding me—right?"

Before he could respond her expression instantly changed. She lowered her eyelids, and put a finger to her mouth. She grinned demurely, waggled her head, and in a little girl's tiny voice said, "If you show me yours mister, I'll show you mine." She batted long eyelashes, fluffed her jet black bangs and teasingly demanded, "It's time to play show and tell D, now—get out of those clothes and come onto this bed right—now!"

Dylan quickly slid out of his clothes, until only his briefs remained. He sauntered over to the bed, and picked up her discarded thong. His eyes met hers as he lifted the pale yellow cloth to his nose and inhaled. She hurriedly crossed her legs; she didn't want her growing wetness to stain his coat.

He sighed gutturally, his cock oozed pre-cum as her heavenly aroma permeated his senses. He tossed the garment away, and crawled next to her. He drew closer and slowly inched his jacket down until her coral tipped white peaks lay bare. Her large puffy areola tightened and strained skyward. He leaned down and took one into his mouth. He suckled gently, and felt her heart rate quicken.

Harper grasped his head and pulled his lips to her. She kissed him hard, and danced her tongue inside his mouth. She threw off the jacket, and aggressively grabbed his hands. She rolled him onto his back and pinned him down. She straddled him and her wet pussy left a moist trail on his firm abdomen. Dylan raised an arm only to have it harshly slammed back down.

She leaned in, nibbled his ear and whispered, "Ladies first."

Panting with desire, she kissed his cheek, and methodically worked her way down his magnificent body. She sucked on his nipples, and marveled at his glorious build. When she reached the waistband she sat up, stared into his hooded eyes, and grabbed her breasts. She tweaked her large nipples and rubbed a finger around the darkening coral tips. She mewled loudly, placed her hands on his chest, and eased her pussy lower until it rested on his soft manhood. She threw her head back and gyrated on him. Her large nether lips rubbed his cock and her hot pussy soaked his underwear. Dylan moaned with intense pleasure. Her lap-dance drove him wild. He reached for her, and she playfully swatted his hand. Sensuously she slid off and grabbed his underwear's waistband. In one motion his briefs were gone and on the floor.

She studied the flaccid shaft, and almost fainted as pre-cum oozed out of the purplish tip. Harper after a few quiet moments looked up at him inquisitively and raised her eyebrows. Dylan understood, he opened his thighs and invited her to explore. She crawled between his legs, and grasped his limp tube. She gently pulled and squeezed. It jerked and twitched, but did not grow. Dylan enjoyed her hands on him and arched his back. She watched him writhe, and teased his manhood with her long fingers. More fluid escaped, and like a kid in a candy store she scooped up the delicacy, and brought it to her mouth. She licked his juices, and savored the flavor—he was delicious. She continued her examination, but couldn't find any sign of an implant. After a few minutes of playtime, she sat up perplexed.

"I can't seem to unlock your mysteries, my sweet man. Your cock jumps and twitches and feels so invitingly warm, but alas, I can't find the key to open its secrets." The little girl returned, and with child–like enthusiasm she sing-songed, "I'm sugar and spice and everything nice—tell me how I can make your cock grow?" as her fingers tickled underneath his dick's mushroom head.

He loved her playfulness, and replied in kind, "Well sugar and spice, and all things nice — for my cock to grow, you need to go down below." He took her hand, "So let me be your guide, I've got nothing to hide."

Giddy with an adolescent's curiosity an eager wide-eyed Harper led by her man found the answer buried inside his ball sack. As she gently fondled her new toy, Dylan tried to put it in plain words how it all worked.

"You know about the cylinders in the shaft, but there's more to it." He pointed to his lower abdomen, "Here is where the reservoir was implanted. It provides the fluid necessary to inflate those cylinders, and give me an erection."

She listened intently as her fingers and thumb explored the device inside his scrotum. He explained there were two distinct sections, the top was the inflation bulb, and the bottom rectangular shape was the deflation site. She carefully felt for, and grasped the top portion of the pump. She couldn't wait and squeezed the bulb.

His cock briefly popped up and a startled Harper excitedly jumped back, and clapped her hands, "This is too cool!" she squealed, and reached back down to do it again.

"Careful," Dylan cautioned, "Make sure it's the pump before you squeeze, and not my balls. I don't want to sing soprano."

She nodded and cautiously felt for the pump bulb once more. She squeezed, and watched his cock rise. "I've never had so much fun," Harper breathlessly exclaimed, and then coyly asked, "How many times do I have to pump until you're ready to fuck me?"

Delighted with her boldness he replied, "If the inflation bulb is allowed to fill all the way back up, around five. If not it could take as many as twenty."

Now very curious she asked, "It won't explode if I umm, accidentally over inflate it—will it?" 

He laughed, "No, no, that won't happen, there are safeguards. You'll feel a 'click' when I'm fully operational, and ready to sink deep into your pussy."

Her fervor grew along with his cock, with each squeeze of the bulb. She watched in wonder as it became longer and thicker right before her eyes. "Oh my lord D, I'm loving this a lot, it's so...so..." Her pussy gushed when she felt the 'click', her words faded awestruck by his amazing soldier standing tall with swollen pride ready for action. 

"Yep, that's it, you're there; I'm at maximum length," he eagerly said, and offered a bit more about the implant. "I was fortunate in one respect, because of my age and my wonderful attorney; the insurance settlement afforded me the opportunity to get the 'Cadillac' of implants. The design is cutting edge tech..."

Harper was too captivated by his manhood to pay attention, and let him ramble. When she felt the 'click' she leaned back and marveled at her handiwork. She licked her lips, and lowered her head. She kissed his cock's tip, pursed her lips and tantalizingly slow brought his hardness into her warm mouth.

He stopped his explanation and moaned, "Oh god that feels sooo good, it's been too damn long, ahhhh!" He threw his head back and cried out with pleasure.

She took him deep and leisurely bobbed her head. His tumescent head was like velvet, the skin soft and supple. She nibbled his manhood, and was amazed how firm, how rigid his cock was. She licked the underside, and he loudly sighed. Full of curiosity, she grasped his shaft, and rolled her thumb and finger over the head. She admired his size, and guessed that it was about seven inches in length.  'Perfect'  she thought. Harper sensed he was close, and slowed down. She didn't want him to come—yet. He bucked his hips but she kept the pace slow.

He stared puzzled into her large blue eyes and hoarsely asked, "Why–did–you–slow down, you're driving me insane."

She continued her slow stroking of his throbbing member and asked, "D, honey, when was the last time you made love?"

"It's been a while," he quietly answered.

She slid her palms faster, "How long D?"

"Ooooh fuck don't stop," he exclaimed, then mumbled, "the—day—the—acc..."

She took her hand off, "I didn't hear that. How long?"

He groaned and sighed, "The day before the—accident."

"Oh my poor sweet man, that was over—four years ago." Her eyes sparkled and her mouth curled into a sly smile, "So–you haven't tried out your new cock with a woman yet?"

"No, it's kind of a long story, you see back..." He heard a pleasant sounding drone and stopped. "Lady Dove, what are you doing?"

"Oh sorry, I'm just humming."   'Like a virgin, touched for the very first time, like a virrrr–gin with your heart beat next to mine.'  

He listened carefully to her purring, when suddenly he recognized her melodious joke and tweaked her bulging nipple.

"Hey!" she squealed and batted his hand away. "Since it's a long story, you can tell me later. Now lay down big boy, and let your tall goddess—deflower you."

Dylan was about to pinch her puffy tip again, when he inhaled involuntarily. She had taken his manhood into her mouth and with loving urgency bobbed her head up and down on his shaft. She started to hum 'their song' again, and her tiny twin doves danced in rhythm with the beat. After several stanzas, she stopped and lifted her mouth off him. She looked into his dazed eyes, and in one motion mercilessly crammed the bulbous head almost down her throat. His back arched, she reached for his hands and gripped them securely. She looked across his muscular abdomen into his eyes with a devilish look. She lowered her mouth and bathed his ball sack with saliva. She drew herself onto her knees, and after several wet popping slurps tightened her grip and sucked so ferociously her cheeks concaved. He writhed in pleasured agony. Harper's pussy demanded attention, so the clever girl turned around, lifted her long leg high and straddled him. She inched back until she felt his hot breath on her sex.

Dylan's breathing quickened and with eager anticipation adjusted his position to enjoy the taste of his woman. His cock twittered as he beheld her hot wet pussy, mere inches from his face. Her delectably long lips and glistening labia were surrounded by short black hairs that contrasted beautifully against her white skin. He inhaled the heady aroma and extended his tongue to lap up her dew. She shuddered the instant his tongue touched her, and he almost swooned when she responded by taking him deeper into her hot mouth.

He licked her slit, and gently took a meaty curtain to nibble on. He lovingly chewed her folds then flattened his tongue and teased her swollen clitoris. She loudly moaned then sat up and pumped her hips in response to his ministrations. Her rosebud pressed against his nose, and he thrust his tongue deep inside her love canal, she raised her head and passionately whispered, "Oh god D, you eat pussy better than a woman! Lordy, you're fantastic!" She rubbed her nether lips against his face and went back to work on his proud hard cock.

They shared the joys of oral sex for a few minutes more until Harper wanted additional attention. She got up and invitingly lay on her back spread-eagled. She loudly exhaled, and closed her eyes lost in the moment. Dylan rose to his knees and hovered over her tall litheness. He started at her toes, nibbling each delectable digit then traveled up her long lean legs. 

When he got to her triangle of joy he was fascinated by the dark downy hair that covered it. Normally pubic hair was bristly, but hers was softer than the hair on her head and he loved how she trimmed it. She left a little stubble on her vulva and shaped the remainder into a tight 'V'. 

He continued up past her belly button to her twin doves. The coral peaks jutted out, tight and tall. He looked at her sleeve, and still couldn't get over how beautiful it was. He wasn't into tattoos per-say, but on her the body art was striking.

He kissed her deep, and when they finished she huskily whispered, "D, I want—you on top for our first time." Her voice trembled with excitement.

For some inane reason Dylan became stupid, "Lady Dove, I'll do my best, I know I'm not as big as Darn..."

"Stop right there," she interrupted angrily, and brusquely pulled his face close to hers. "Don't you dare mention that bastard's name—he's not half the man you are! And as far as size, he didn't have a ten-inch Black Mamba! That was his ego talking."

"But the way he..."

She shook her head and sighed, "Lord help me—I am so tired of the male ego — sometimes I think I should've been a lesbian." She paused to calm her growing irritation, "Darnell was firmly convinced that he was a lot larger than most men. I can assure you he was a legend in his own mind and I certainly did not date him because of his 'size,' because the truth is he is smaller than you."

Dylan sat up attempting to put everything in perspective.

Harper saw his puzzled face and took a breath, "Dylan, I am only going to say this once so you better listen. I dated Darnell because most men were intimidated by my height and wouldn't bother to ask me out. He was taller, I didn't scare him off and at first we clicked. But to make a short story even shorter, we dated, got engaged, and the ring wasn't on my finger five minutes when he decided I was 'his property' to do with as he pleased. I dumped his ass faster than a hot knife slicing through butter. No one controls me, no one."

Harper looked the chastised man in the eye, and thumped his chest with her finger, "D, I'm not the least bit worried about how big or small your cock is. Size is meaningless to me; it's all in the style baby. Don't you mention that no good prick's name again, hear me? Now get your sweet ass on top and fuck me with that wonderful machine of yours, before I throw you out of the game!"

Dylan after kicking himself for his stupidity was grateful for his 'enhanced' member. After her justified tirade, the older model would have shriveled up never to be seen again. But here he was still standing at the ready. Suddenly his tall seductress pulled him down and planted a hard kiss on his lips. She pushed him off, and with a wry smile stretched the long folds of her nether lips and opened the gates to heaven. Then just to show off, she stretched those sexy folds and tied them into a—knot.

He watched the magic unfold in awesome wonder. Her abilities astounded him and his cock throbbed appreciatively. He crawled between her long limbs and touched the knot with his cockhead. He teased the area and as she writhed against him, he successfully untied her handiwork. He let go of his manhood, rolled her fleshy lips with his fingers, and re-opened her pearly gates. She brought a fist to her mouth and loudly moaned. He used his cockhead to circle her clit then slid it up and down her moisture laden slit. Her hooded eyes opened and closed with each pass he made.

He positioned the head at her entrance took a breath and slowly pushed. The resistance he encountered surprised him.  'She's tight, really tight, I don't get it.' To get more leverage he placed his hands on either side of her and was about to thrust when she locked her ankles around him, and quickly pulled him deep into her warmth. He bellowed as her hot sex tightly enveloped him.

"Ooooooh, you feel so good D—a perfect fit," she huskily said.

He moaned inside her heat and exclaimed, "Good god Lady Dove you're so fucking tight and...and oh...oh shit, shit what are you doing to...to...ahhhhh!"

"I'm doing–my—exercises silly boy. I take it you like?"

"I...I...I've never felt anything like this before; fuck yeah baby, fuck yeah I love it. You're sure full of surprises," he said, and not to be outdone started to pump his hips and plunge deeply into his woman.

She softly moaned, raised her nimble legs higher and tightly wrapped them around him. Dylan wanted to please his woman, and rhythmically moved his cock in and out of her moist honey pot. Her large labia tickled his shaft, and strong vaginal muscles clamped onto him with every stroke. Her long athletic legs held him so close, he couldn't pull completely out, while her pussy contracted and milked his manhood. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer, it had been too long since he'd last made love to a woman. Dylan looked into her large doe eyes, and saw ecstasy. She stared at him and mouthed 'I love you', then wrapped her hands around his head and kissed him.

He picked up the pace and she began to emit little cries of intense pleasure that got louder and louder. Suddenly her toes curled, and she convulsed. Her pussy clamped onto his firm pole, and drove him past the point of no return. He bellowed loudly, and pumped rope after rope, after rope of hot seed deep inside her vise. Spent, he slowed down and admired his tall goddess with her eyes closed and a small, satisfied smile on her luscious lips. Dylan swiftly decided to kick it into overdrive and resumed pistoning into her drenched love hole.

Harper's eyes snapped open at the glorious resurgence of friction and cried out in joy, "OHHH Yesss, give it to me again!!! Fuck me, fuck me hard my sweet D. OHHHHH!!!!"

He moved faster and faster. Her puffy coral tips darkened noticeably and jutted out. Her small titties bounced with his every thrust. In a matter of seconds she loudly moaned, and her pussy walls tightened. The increased resistance stimulated him to new heights, and he almost lost focus. He gritted his teeth with delight and pounded her wet muff. She gazed up with wondrous joy then suddenly scrunched her face, opened her mouth wide, and cried out in blissful jubilation. Dylan didn't slow down, instead he quickened the pace. He had four years to make up, and was enjoying every moment.

After her last climax, Harper needed to be in control. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, squeezed his cock and rolled on top of him. She leaned back, and ground her hips into his drenched brown pubic hair. Her dark coral nipples pointed to the sky and as her body danced on his firmness, she mewled loudly. Tiny electric shocks coursed through her, and each mini orgasm jolted her to new heights of rapture. Their intensity grew and charged her nervous system to maximum pleasure. Suddenly and without warning, her body short-circuited and discharged into her very soul. She screamed and her quivering honey pot flooded his pubes with hot female cum. Harper's well-lubricated slit slurped loudly as she convulsed in ecstasy.




Half the Man Ch. 05



Dylan watched enthusiastically as his cock disappeared into her lush black triangle and he groaned with agonizing pleasure at the sound of her strong climax. He threw his head back as her orgasm squeezed and milked his shaft. His balls tightened as his euphoria increased. He grimaced and looked into her large dazed doe eyes.

Her blue eyes hooded, as she bounced on his shaft. She saw his contorted expression and egged him on, "Come on baby, fill me again, come on fuck me with that love machine. Oh yeah, that's it, that's it, come on, comme onnn, commme ONNNN!!!!!"

Harper's eyes rolled back into her head as she shook in the throes of another earth shattering orgasm. Dylan's balls pulled up and he screamed when his cock ejaculated again and coated her vaginal walls with his love juice. Harper tired, sweaty and spent slowed down and fell forward. His cock still very hard was nestled deep inside her vibrating sex. She lifted her head and kissed her man. He caressed her sleeve, and eased her up onto him. She rested on his chest and sighed with complete satisfaction. "Now that's what I call making love," she mewed. Dylan smiled and hugged his goddess.

After a few moments she lifted herself off his manhood and heard a loud pop. Curious she straddled him and watched their juices drain out of her swollen pussy, down her long thighs, and onto his hard cock. Dylan could see the large puffy red lips of her flower, wet with their cum. Her engorged clit stood proud through the trimmed black pubic hair, and her long delectable nether lips danced with each breath she took. It sent shivers down his spine.

She curled up on his side, and intertwined her long toes with his. Playfully she nibbled on his neck, and marked him as hers. He softly chuckled, and absentmindedly traced her tattoo with his finger. They were both exhausted. Dylan reached down and deflated his cock. Harper marveled at his shrinking penis then nestled into him and closed her doe eyes. Satisfied beyond belief he lazily stretched his arms around her, closed his eyes, and soon they were fast asleep.

Harper gradually awoke, and through the haze of love looked at the clock. Only three hours had passed. She felt his warmth, and drew closer. She thought back to his attempt to apologize, and scoffed.  'The male ego, when it comes to cock size, is so fragile it's ridiculous. I never cared how big or small it was. It didn't matter one bit. But this implant D has is the ne plus ultra of cocks, and as an added bonus the man could teach a course on proper pussy eating. Best I had since Cirella ate me out four months into my inking. She was a wild one, but I couldn't get into eating her. I'd much rather suck on a juicy cock than munch on a fur burger.' 

She sat up and winced when she felt her tired kitty. "Oh wow he sure worked me over—and he's worried that his cock might be too small?" She shook her head, brought her fingers to her nose and enjoyed the aroma of their coupling. Harper left the bed to get cleaned up. When she returned she crawled by his cock, and played with the pump. She inflated and deflated him a few times. Suddenly it dawned on her that he could always be ready. Just like earlier when he came his cock didn't go soft. It stayed firm and hard until the deflate button was pressed.

She leaned down and kissed his softness,  'My own 'Marathon Man' she lovingly thought.

In a low whisper she mused, "Funny how fate works. It seems like yesterday I splattered him with mustard and boy did I piss him off. Then he comes by a few days later and hands me a 'cleaning bill' when in reality it was a note with the most sincere and tender apology I ever read. I knew then he was all that and more. Then our lunches together and..."

She looked over and wiped her eyes, "And here I am with the one I love."

"I love you too Lady Dove."

*****

Saturday's sun filled morning reflected brightly off the fresh snow from the storm the night before. Icicles extended downward from the window, and their prismatic rainbows filled the room with soft colors. Harper's large eyes responded and slowly blinked at the dazzling display.

She groaned, yawned and lovingly nudged the person lying next to her. "Dylan you forgot to close the curtains again."

He stole her pillow and covered his head, her outburst ignored. She folded her arms and with pursed lips blew the dark bangs out of her eyes. She reached over, tickled his abdomen and swatted his ass beneath the covers. He squirmed at her playfulness, rolled onto his belly and mumbled an apology. Harper smacked his ass once more for good measure and got up to pee and face the day. She glanced at the clock and it read 10:26A.M.

"Ahh hell, we overslept and missed the Valentine Day breakfast special at the Honey Tree. I've been sooo hungry lately and that sounded sooo good too." She sighed, and padded barefoot to the window to look at nature's glory. "Wow another three inches must've fell last night, so it's probably a good thing we did." She warmly chuckled.

"Since you're at the window, would you close the drapes please?" asked a very sleepy voice.

"Oh shut up. If you want them closed do it yourself, I'm hopping in the shower," she replied with good-natured sarcasm and despite her words closed the curtains.

"Thank you. I love you!" he impishly replied and snuggled back deep under the warm covers. 

She ambled lazily into the bathroom and, almost with reverence, slipped off her night shirt. As she folded it she wondered at how quickly the time had passed. "Hard to believe we've been together for, gosh, fourteen months now." She set the precious cloth down, and reminisced back to just before they celebrated her first birthday together as a couple. It was about two weeks prior to when she met his mom and dad in person.

*****

"I sure hope your parents like me," Harper nervously said when Dylan turned onto the street he grew up on.

He reassuringly rubbed her unadorned arm, "Why are you so worried milady? You've chatted with my mom numerous times. So it's not like you're strangers. In fact if you remember, I met your parents the first time without ever talking to them before, and I did fine."

She nodded and touched her colorful sleeve, "I don't know why I'm so anxious, I just am. It's a lot different meeting in person than it is to speak with them on the phone or chat on the internet."

He patted her leg, "I understand your apprehension, but I guarantee this will be okay. Have faith. Besides, you said the very same thing when Peter came to town last month to finalize the API800 deal with Greg." 

Then he chuckled, "Lady Dove, do you remember the look on Peter's face when you walked into the restaurant? It was like that commercial—priceless. I was worried his new pacemaker would short circuit," he laughed, "but it all went well, and I'm sure today will be just as good, if not better." 

She ignored his humor and was still unconvinced, "I know it went well, and Peter's a wonderful man, but these are your parents D and..."

"Lady Dove, Peter was and still is like a father to me. If it weren't for him—well I don't know where I, or for that matter we would be. He and Ruth—are family," he said as he pulled in front of his childhood home. She nodded once more and looked up to see his mom and dad come out of the house. She took a big breath, stepped out of the car and was met enthusiastically by them. They each gave her a big hug and pulled her head down to kiss her cheek. Harper's fears faded and she smiled at her man.

"Told you," he snickered.

"Told you what?" asked his mother as she wrapped an arm around Harper.

"Would you believe this tall beautiful woman was..."

He was brusquely interrupted, "Hush D, I can speak for myself."

Dylan put his hands up and laughed. He nodded to his dad, and together they walked towards the house to get a beer before the baseball game came on.

Harper took his mother's arm, "I was nervous Marla, about meeting you and Larry in person. I should have known better." She laughed.

Marla looked up and smiled, "After all the time we spend on the phone and Facebook? Yes you should have." She patted Harper's arm, "Come on inside, and I'll give you a quick tour. Then we'll go out onto the deck and yak while the boys watch the game."

After the tour, Marla asked Harper to wait for her at the patio table. A few minutes passed when she came back out and handed her son's girlfriend a cold bottle of beer.

Surprised by the brand Harper took the brown bottle and asked, "Full-Circle? This is my favorite micro-brew how did you know?" She had asked the question rhetorically, but was stunned by the reply.

"Penny told me."

"What? My mom told you? How, when?"

"Facebook of course silly—when you and I became friends, I peeked at your buddy list, or whatever they call it. I saw Penelope and Parker Smythe. I sent out an invite to Penny, and we've been chatting ever since. She's a sweet lady, so much nicer than...than..." Marla eyes watered and she turned her head.

"Marla?" A worried Harper asked, and got up to comfort her, "Marla what's wrong? My mom's nicer than who?"

Marla looked back at Harper, wiped her eyes, and angrily answered, "His ex-wife's mother, that's who. That no good bitch almost destroyed my son. She lied to me and worst of all lied to him. She deliberately interfered, and single-handedly ruined his marriage." She took a breath, "I'm sorry honey, I shouldn't have said anything, but every time I think about that woman I want to..." Marla broke down and started to cry.

Harper consoled his mom and wondered what happened. Dylan told her about Mariette's mom, 'the bitch' and how she constantly meddled in their lives. But what Marla said was news to her.

"Marla, talk to me. Dylan's told me pretty much everything; how everyone was against their marriage, to the umm—estrangement, and what her mother did—especially when he got the divorce papers. But what did she do to you? I don't understand," Harper gently probed.

His mom wiped her eyes and explained, "Dylan flew in for a visit and surprised us first with Mariette; then before we could sit down, he said they were getting married. Larry and I were stunned, but we sat and listened. It didn't take long to know he was making a mistake. We tried to tell him they were too young that they didn't know each other well enough, and we advised them to wait—that's all just—wait. And during the entire time that we argued with Dylan, Mariette was constantly texting on her phone almost oblivious to what was happening around her. Oh sure she would pop up and say something once in a while, then she'd go right back to her phone.

"Sadly, when it was over there were bad feelings. He married her and we didn't hear from him again until after the divorce. It was his boss Peter who helped us reconcile. What a truly remarkable man," she said with admiration.

"I know, Dylan loves Peter almost like a father and after meeting him I understand why. He is a very caring person."

Marla nodded and continued, "After Larry and I cooled off, we tried to contact him to apologize, but he wouldn't take our calls and since he lived in another state we couldn't easily pick up and go to see him in person. Then I made a very bad mistake—I asked Sylvia to keep me updated on my son. Knowing what I know now, I would have flown down there in a heartbeat, but I trusted her." Her eyes moistened, "I trusted that woman to let me know how things were going and she played me for the fool. I had no clue he was in an accident and badly injured. I had asked Sylvia for his phone number to try and reconnect with him. She kept reassuring me that she almost had him ready and it wouldn't be long before he would call me. She got my hopes up, and I stupidly went along with it.

"That...that bitch withheld information so she could manipulate her daughter into a divorce and in the process she almost completely demolished Dylan. In fact, he was virtually all alone except for one very special man. Thank God for—Peter." Marla sighed, and continued, "It should have been his father and I with him when he was going through that hell. But I trusted that bitch; I assumed she had her daughter's and my son's best interest at heart and as we all know now she most certainly did not. Hell, even after Mari moved out, that conniving bitch still played her game. Fortunately like I said, Peter saved the day and our family.

"So believe me when I first met your mom online, I was apprehensive and skeptical. Happily, as I read your walls and through our many conversations, I overcame my fears. I know the feelings and love you both have for my son are true."

Marla hugged Harper; the two women tapped their bottles together, and drank to friendship and family.

*****

Harper grabbed the new bottle of shampoo and walked into the hot shower. She stood quietly under the water and let the memories wash over her. She thought about another bottle, a yellow bottle, and a birthday confession. 

Dylan was at her apartment after their wonderful birthday celebration dinner and night out on the town. He had just presented her with a gorgeous necklace, but that wasn't the gift she cherished most. That gift was folded neatly on the bathroom chair. It was the piece of cloth that changed their lives forever.

*****

Harper held her hair up as Dylan clasped the beautiful piece of jewelry around her neck. She couldn't wait to see how it looked and went to the mirror. The gemstone was nestled perfectly just above her breasts, and sparkled brightly. She lifted the delicate 18-karat white-gold chain and cradled the gorgeous 'Asscher Cut' yellow sapphire. She admired her birthday present from the man of her dreams.

"Thank you D, this is so beautiful and elegant. Where did you find a yellow sapph..."

She became quiet as Dylan held another box, a brightly wrapped yellow box in his hands. "I don't know what you will think of this, but every-time I see it, I always think of you," he said with a twinkle in his eye that belied his serious manner.

Her face was a look of puzzlement when he handed her the box with the yellow bow. Carefully she took the bright paper off and slowly lifted the lid. Harper gasped at what was nestled underneath the pale yellow tissue paper. She put her hand to her mouth and cried.

Surprised by her emotional reaction, he rubbed her shoulders and explained, "When I got home that day, I tossed it by the trash can with every intention to throw it out later. When later came—I couldn't do it. I washed it and kept it in a drawer as a reminder to think before I speak.

"I purchased your necklace, and as I wrapped it, I knew this would be the perfect gag gift. So I bought yellow wrapping paper, yellow tissue paper, and a yellow bow. I...I...thought it would be funny but obviously I was wrong."

Harper lifted the yellow-stained shirt out, and held it up. She wiped her eyes, "Oh D, this is more precious to me than the necklace. It is the most perfect gift you could have gotten me, for it will always remind me of the day we met." She got up and hugged him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you my sweet D."

She set the shirt down and took his hand. "This has been the most wonderful birthday I've had in a long time." They kissed for several minutes, before Harper broke it.

"I have a confession to make. On the day we met I, umm, deliberately splattered you with mustard to have an excuse to talk to you. I had been watching you in the park for a month and I really wanted to meet you. I didn't want to squirt mustard on you to get your attention, but I couldn't get the courage up to approach you out of the blue and just say 'hi.' So instead I grabbed the bottle and squeezed." She took a breath, "And the rest, as they say, is history. Please don't hate me now that I've let you in on my little secret."

She looked up nervously and cringed at his stern face. Suddenly he laughed, "I have a confession too. Emilio told me the next day that he was certain you squirted me deliberately. He watched you pick up and set down the bottle several times. He was going to ask you, "What you up to?" when you finally splattered me." Dylan grinned, "Emilio said he never laughed so hard in his life, and wished he recorded the entire thing — from the determined look on your face as you armed yourself with the bottle of mustard, to the completely gob smacked look on my face when I looked down and saw my shirt decorated with ugly yellow blotches!"

Harper's eyes widened at his story. She tried to look offended, but he just wagged his finger and laughed. She set the shirt down got up, and sauntered over to him. She looked down at her man, and with an evil looking grin dropped to her knees. She roughly undid his belt buckle and brusquely pulled his pants and underwear down to expose his tiny dick. Deftly she reached between his legs, fondled his ball sack and squeezed five times. With each squeeze she licked her lips in anticipation of what was coming next. She gazed up into his golden colored eyes, but he remained silent as his mast rose to attention. Then she saw his lip curl imperceptibly up as she grabbed the hard firm shaft.

Harper stood back up and with a firm grip carefully marched him into the bedroom for a three-hour sex marathon. After they were exhausted, Harper lovingly put her new precious night shirt on. The sleeves were too short for her arms, and it barely covered her ass, but that night and almost every night thereafter she wore it to bed.

A sudden inflow of cool air woke her from her memories as she rinsed her hair. The shower door had opened and her man joined her under the warm water. Harper moaned when Dylan wrapped his arms around her and pulled on her puffies. He knew exactly what to do to arouse her. He grasped the shower head and rinsed the soap out of her hair. Then for fun, he turned on the massager and pointed it between her legs. Harper squealed, grabbed the head and set it back up.

She felt something poke her ass. She turned around looked down and glared. "What's this?" She asked crossly and grabbed his hard cock. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that you cannot play with my toy."

Dylan tried to step back but her grip was too firm and in a sheepish voice, "I didn't think you would mind, I wanted to surpr...uhhh" He moaned with pleasure.

She squeezed his hard shaft, and shook her head, "No, no, no. This is my toy, it is not yours to play with—it is all mine. I decide when to inflate it, and I decide when, or IF, to deflate it." To prove her point, she reached between his legs, and his cock went limp.

Dylan put his head down, "I'm sorry, I won't do it again mistress." The sudden thought that he would play 'the submissive' for her had turned her on more than she could imagine.

She stroked his hair, "I certainly hope so; I mean you better not." She teased him with a stern voice, "For your punishment, get on your knees right now!"

"Please Lady Dove, not that!" he mischievously cried as he carefully got down on the floor. The hot water pelted his back, and as he stared up at his stunning mistress, he begged, "anything but that!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears and slowly she bent over exposing her womanhood. She rubbed each cheek with her hands, and spread her butt wide. In a throatily demanding voice she ordered him, "Lick me right now."

Dylan immediately probed her luscious flesh with his tongue. He teased her slit, circled her clit, and chewed on the supple long lips. He sucked on each fold, and ravished them with his mouth. Harper writhed with pleasure. He lapped at her honey pot, and without warning kissed her forbidden flower. She moaned lustily as his tongue circled the dusky opening and gently teased her rosebud. He ravished her perineum, the short pathway between heaven and paradise, and felt her climax build. He was about to sink his tongue deep inside—when she ordered him up.




Half the Man Ch. 05



Dylan stood up quietly as Harper reached between his legs, and re-inflated his member. She turned off the shower, and leaned up against the wall. She bent her knees and ordered him to fuck her.

He did his best to sound hurt and asked, "Aren't you going to suck on me first?"

She laughed with her best evil cackle, "That's the beauty of your wonderful machine. I don't—have—to. Foreplay for you is now five squeezes. So shut up and fuck me with your mechanical marvel."

Dylan smiled on the inside and guided his hard shaft into her hot wet pussy. Once he was buried deep inside, he felt her muff's muscles clamp down and milk him. Harper started to writhe as she humped him. She moved faster, her ass slapped hard against his pubic hair. Soon she wailed in her sexual frenzy and convulsed in the throes of a satisfying orgasm. After her climax, she slowed down and pulled off his hard cock. Dylan went to hug her, but before he knew it she deflated his throbbing dick.

"Hey what about me?" This time he pouted for real. "Don't I get to come?" he demanded.

"Maybe next week and only if I'm in a good mood." She smirked and stepped out of the shower to dry off. Dylan laughed at this new twist and quickly turned the shower back on when she left the bathroom.

His showered fast and toweled off. He wondered from whence she would attack him today, if that was her intent. He didn't know what to expect after her little change up in the shower and he loved the anticipatory thrill it provided. Dylan opened the door slowly and walked into their bedroom. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, he was pushed onto the bed and rolled onto his back. His tall sexy woman jumped on top of him and took his limp cock into her mouth and began sucking it. Dylan gasped with pleasure as Harper teased his flaccid shaft. She licked and kissed his softness and began to squeeze the bulb. His cock grew. She continued her ministrations, and soon his cock stood proud. She kissed the hard shaft, and licked under the helmet. Her tongue found his frenulum, and she bathed the bundle of nerves with its tip. Dylan moaned when she teased his little hole and he almost fainted when she took him down her throat. She held him there and pressed the deflate button. His member shrank out of her throat. Harper loved the control.

Now soft, she gently (and without teeth) chewed him. In much same way that Dylan nibbled her folds, she did with his now shrunken cock. He began to moan and pump his hips. She pumped once, and bobbed her head. His semi-hard cock began to twitch, and when he got close, she quickly inflated him to maximum, and deep throated him. He immediately bellowed and pumped his seed straight to her stomach. When he finished, she deflated him slowly and licked his member clean. Satisfied, Harper climbed up and lay next to her man.

She kissed him and said in her little girl voice, "I love our games. It's so much fun to play with you."

He growled, and rolled her on her back. She softly screamed in mock horror when he pinned her arms. He looked into her soulful eyes and admonished her, "You were a naughty girl today, not letting me fill your pussy with my seed and threatening not to let me come until 'next week'." He leaned down and sucked a swollen nipple.

She moaned with pleasure and begged for mercy, "I'm sorry sweet D, I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself! I won't do it again, I promise."

He stopped suckling, and whispered in her ear. "I've heard that story before Lady Dove; fortunately you more than made up for your transgressions with your oral skills, so all is forgiven." He licked her earlobe, kissed her long white neck and marked her as his. She writhed in ecstasy at his forcefulness and inwardly wondered what his turn will bring next time.

He briefly admired the mark on his lovely lady's neck then pulled her tight, and kissed the flower that bore his name on her sleeve. 

It was two weeks before when Harper came home with with a bandage on her arm. Concerned, he asked her what happened. She smiled and simply took the covering off pointing to the yellow bloom just below her shoulder. His eyes moistened, for inside the flower was his name in script.

"You're my first flower sweet D, and as you can see I have a few more to fill," she said full of love and pulled him up for a kiss.

He was proud to forever be a part of this beautiful woman.

*****

It was just before noon on the same Valentine's Day, when Harper still in her robe came out to the living room. Her face was pensive.

"What's up Lady Dove, you look like you need to tell me something?" he asked with concern as he sat up on the couch.

She quietly glided over to him, and took his face into her hands. She softly caressed the near invisible scars and planted a big kiss on his lips. He nimbly parted her mouth open, and together their tongues danced the tango of love. His hand separated the ties of her robe and his fingers easily found a silver dollar sized coral nipple. He teased the tip, and it puckered tight. Harper cooed, and reluctantly stepped back. She reached into the pocket of her opened robe and pulled out a small white stick.

He caught his breath and asked, "What's that sexy lady?"

She held it for him to see and in a very sultry voice explained, "D, the honeymoon is over—it's time to get married."

He looked at the object and stared into her soul. "Our honeymoon will never be over and yes, my Lady Dove, most definitely yes," he responded with joy in voice only to reach for something behind his back. He pulled out a medium sized box.

It was with happiness in his voice that he told Harper, "It is Valentine's Day, and you have just given me the most precious gift a woman can give. I hope my gift doesn't—disappoint you."

Harper sat down and opened the box. She looked inside and laughed. The box was filled to the brim with mustard packets of every flavor imaginable! She was about to set it down when he quietly added, "I don't think you looked hard enough."

Puzzled by his words she picked the box back up and gently sorted through the menagerie. Suddenly she put her hand to her mouth and loudly gasped. At the bottom of the box was a band of white gold topped with a beautiful diamond framed on either side by twin yellow emeralds. She trembled as she pulled it out. Dylan gently took the ring, and as he slipped it on. "Will you..."

"Too late," she tearfully interrupted as she looked at the circle of love on her finger, "Too late, you already accepted my proposal, so yours doesn't count." She stood up and, almost crying with joy demanded, "Now my fiancé, please shut up, take me to our bed and make love to me."

He easily lifted his squealing tall goddess into his arms and kissed her deeply. She lovingly wrapped her long arms around his neck. Their lips never parted as he carried her into their bedroom and closed the door.

 'Epilogue' 

The dark red SUV pulled into the driveway and parked. The rear door opened and a precocious sandy-haired blue-eyed six-year-old boy jumped out and started towards the house. The driver door opened and a woman's voice loudly warned, "Peter James, before you let Mercury out, I need your help with the groceries."

The boy halted and turned around. "Okay mom," he said and hurried back to the car to pick up a couple of bags and took them inside their home.

"Thanks honey," she said cheerfully as she opened the other rear door. She looked inside and smiled at her young daughter snug in her car seat. "Tin-Tin, my sweet little girl what is mommy's doctor's name again?"

The dark haired miniature blend of her parents with large dimples, and beautiful golden eyes giggled, "Dr. Beaker, Dr. Beaker."

Harper laughed and tickled the doe eyed little girl, "No my little Tina–Tin-Tin, its Dr. Baker, not Dr. Beaker. I must admit though, he does look like a 'Beaker', and not a 'Baker', and you sound so cute too."

She lifted her daughter out of the car, held her up to face height and nuzzled her belly. Harper gently set the giggly girl on the driveway. Tina quickly got up and toddled towards the house. Suddenly there was a loud bark as Mercury came outside to greet the rest of his family.

"Meekeeree, Meekeeree," Tina gleefully shouted as the black German Shepherd gave her nose a quick lick. She grabbed his fur, and together walked to the door.

"Pete!" Harper yelled, "There are a few more bags left, come on back ou..."

"Mom! Something's wrong with Dad; he's on the couch and he's really upset. I...I think he's crying," the angst and fear palpable in Peter's voice.

 'Oh no, I hope it's not his hip replacement,'  she thought as she picked up Tina and rushed into their house.

"Dylan, what's wrong—is it your hip baby?"

Her husband was holding his cell-phone. When he looked up, his eyes were full of tears. She immediately knew it wasn't his hip. Before Dylan could say anything she turned to their young son, "Pete, take Tin-Tin, and Mercury into the den and put the television on. Can you do that for Momma so I can talk with Daddy?"

The young boy although anxious, nodded as he took his sister's hand. As they headed out of the kitchen he coaxed her along, "Come on Tin-Tin let's go watch Stingray." Mercury was right behind them.

"D, what's wrong? Who was on the phone?" she asked as she took the phone from his shaky hand.

"That was Tyler Bolt—P...Peter passed away during the night," he cried.

Harper gasped, "Oh no, no, that's terrible news." She sat down and took him in her arms. He laid his head on her shoulder and quietly told her what he knew.

"Tyler said Peter had a massive heart attack last night," Dylan snuffled, "J...j...just before the transplant team arrived with his new heart. There was n...n...nothing they could do."

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," her voice trembled. "D...d...did Tyler mention arrangements?"

"Yes, Peter and Ruth prearranged everything with Sarah before he went into the hospital just in case. The service is tentatively scheduled for this Friday." He looked into her large wet blue eyes, "I need to be there."

"We—all—will be there sweet D." She got up and took over, "As soon as I get the groceries put away, I'll go on the internet and start planning the trip out."

He patted his lovely wife's hand, "Let me help, and we'll look together Lady Dove." He gave her a lingering kiss, got up, and as one they unloaded the groceries and made plans for the sorrowful journey.

*****

It had been many years since he last sat at the coffee shop in the mall. He was surprised it had only a few patrons this day. He always remembered it as very busy. Nevertheless, Dylan enjoyed the solitude as he studied the latest reports on his tablet.

He took a sip of his coffee and stiffened slightly at an unwelcome sound from his past.

"Dylan? Is that you? It is you! H...h...how have you been?" a hesitant chestnut-haired woman asked.

He got up to greet the person whose voice he hadn't heard in eleven years. His voice was flat—not uncivil, but as if he were talking to a stranger, "Hello Mariette, I have been well. How are you doing?"

Her voice became tentative, "I...I...I'm doing okay. I've been married for three years and we have a little girl. It is good to, see you." She stuttered with curiosity, "If you, umm, don't mind me asking, what brought you back here?" 

Surprised at the abruptness, almost rudeness of her question, Dylan replied once more without emotion, "No, I don't mind. Peter Kimbridge passed away. His funeral was yesterday. I wanted to be there for his family and pay my respects." Then the hairs on the back of his neck rose with a level of indignation that he thought was long past, and he tersely stated, "He was very helpful to me when I needed him, unlike..." He let the words fade.

She recoiled at his resentment, "I...I...I'm so sorry to hear that. He was a good man." 

She looked at his cheek and was moderately surprised that all she could see of the once ugly scars were tiny, almost invisible lines. She noticed his dimple was gone, but his eyes were still golden, his head full of the sandy colored hair she loved. And his waist — it still tapered so nicely.

Mari tried to lighten the mood, "Wow, I can hardly see those scars and Dylan; you look good, very good!" she sputtered as she felt her sex moisten. "How is your leg doing??"

He recognized 'that look' in her blue eyes as he stared past her pudginess and saw the woman he had once loved those many years ago. He calmed himself and replied graciously, "My leg is doing fine thank you, and you look well too Mariette."

His eyebrows raised and he acerbically hissed a question, "How is," he stopped himself before he said 'the bitch', "your Mother?" 

He was surprised by her emotional response.

Mariette's face turned bright red, "I have no idea about my mother!" She snapped angrily, "I stopped talking to her a long time ago, and good riddance. She no longer runs my life." 

She took a breath, composed herself, then quickly changed the subject, "But, you are too kind with your words, I put on fifteen pounds after Corrine was born. Here, I have a picture of her." She proudly pulled out a snapshot of her daughter to show him.

"She is very pretty Mariette, you and 'Chris' must be proud," he said with a mixture of sincerity regarding her daughter and a certain loathing towards her assumed husband.

"Chris? Who is, ohhh...fuck..." She took a short breath, "I haven't seen that asshole since that horrible day in the parking lot. My husband's name is William." She gathered her courage to try and right a past wrong, "Dylan I want you to know—I...I...I never slept with..."

"Mariette, stop! I don't care anymore one way or the other what happe..."

"Dylan, please listen to me! My mother was controlling me; she made me say and do those things. I didn't realize how much she hated you, and..."

Frustrated he held up his hand palm forward, "Please stop, it doesn't matter if she controlled you or not, you were an," he paused for emphasis, "adult. It was 'your' choice to do what you did to us. You are certainly not blameless; you surely must remember your 'kind' last words in our apartment—'I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you.'"

She cringed as she remembered those words among the many choreographed words that came before. Just to think about "The Speech" her mother had her memorize caused her to blush with shame. "Dylan that was..."

He interrupted, "Honestly Mariette, I would like to understand one thing: I don't care who wrote the words, but I am very curious about what prompted you to change the divorce terms?"

Mariette sighed, "The initial terms were—my mother's doing."

"I figured that, but how did they change?"

"I changed them," she simply said, "I changed them. Like I told you in the apartment, I didn't ask for much because you had suffered enough. When we left the apartment and were riding back to her place, mom was laughing. I asked her why. She showed me what she had the lawyer ask for. I was livid. Those demands were not what I wanted." She paused, and dabbed her eye, "I still couldn't stand up to her, so I kept my mouth shut. Later I told my attorney to rewrite the terms and this time, make them fair. When mother found out she tried to stop me but I finally got the courage and stood up to her." Mari's voice rose in timber, "I finally told her to go to hell!

She fell silent for a moment while Dylan waited for her to continue, "I knew it was too late for us; but Dylan—I finally—grew up. I am a free woman." She reached for him, but before she could take his hand, he pulled away.

His rejection opened the floodgates. "Dylan—I'm sorry I said and did those things when you needed me most..." Mariette tearfully confessed, and after a few quiet sobs wiped her eyes, "Ahh, I see a ring on your finger Dylan, can I assume you are married too?"

He heard the sincerity in her words, but even if what she said was true—he didn't really care. He was happy with his life—more than happy, ecstatic. When she asked if he was married, he proudly replied, "I have been happily married for six glorious years, to the most wonderful caring woman on this earth."

She winced slightly, and hesitantly replied, "Six years? That's a surpri...I mean that's wonderful. Umm how did she, umm how do you, umm, well you know?" The words stumbled out.

Startled and offended by her sudden boldness about his intimate life, he decided that this reunion was over. He picked up his tablet, but before he could say his goodbyes, shrill happy voices cried out in unison,

"Daddy!"

Mari was alarmed as two whirlwinds ran past her. She stared in disbelief at the young boy and even younger girl who grabbed Dylan by the waist. Dumbfounded, she watched as he picked up the dark haired little girl and planted a kiss on her dimpled cheek.  'How did he find children to adopt that have the same features as him; this doesn't make any sense.'  she thought as he patted the boy on his sandy-brown head.

"Dylan, they look just like you! How..."

Before she could finish her question, the children cried out in unison, "Beat you Mommy!" Dylan's bewildered ex-wife turned to see a towering, pregnant woman walking towards them. Suddenly Mari realized these children were not adopted, but—his own flesh and blood. She plopped onto the chair at his table and her face noticeably paled.

"Mariette, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." he asked with feigned concern as he reached up and gave Harper a kiss. When they finished, he whispered briefly in her ear about what was going on and Harper immediately nodded with understanding.

Dylan spoke to his ex with pride as he introduced his tall goddess, "Mariette, this is Harper Hunt, my wife and mother of my children, Peter James, and Tina Kate, my little dark haired Tin-Tin."

Mari fidgeted with her hair as she examined the foursome. She was surprised by the woman's height and even more so by the tattoo sleeve that covered much of her right arm. His children, though, bothered her the most. She couldn't help but wonder,  'This makes absolutely no sense. Children? How is this possible? Did he have the surgery, or did he...I have to know, I need to know.' 

Her head down, she softly asked, "Did...you, umm, did you..." 

"Did I what Mariette?" 

"Umm, did...ah...did you get it fixed?" she finally blurted out.

"Huh? Get what fixed? Mariette whatever are you talking about?" he asked outwardly acting perplexed, but inside laughing hysterically.

"You know! It was the big reason for our—divorce," she replied her voice trailing off as she spoke.

"Oh, that," he turned toward Harper and snickered. "I honestly thought it was a 'little' reason, not big at all."

Mari blushed, "What I mean is did you do the surg..."

Harper decided this had gone on long enough, and it was she who answered Mari's question, "If you're talking about what I think you are, it's really quite simple. I just pump him up." She opened and closed her thumb and forefinger several times as a demonstration. "I can even control the size—but the most fun is to watch it grow from a tiny little thing to a very satisfying—hunk of man. His staying power is beyond phenomenal." She became breathless, "Mari—making love with Dylan isn't a sprint, it's an endurance test—not for him, but for me. All in all it's pretty marvelous. In fact—it's my personal opinion that every man should have an implant. If they did, there would be no sexually frustrated women around—and I'm certainly qualified to say that."

She turned to her family, then quickly faced Mariette again and said in a catty voice, "Oh, in case you haven't noticed," Harper rubbed her very pregnant belly, "He is very, very, virile too."

She looked at the time, took Tina by the hand and then turned to her husband and in a provocative voice said, "We have a plane to catch Mr. Marathon Man." 




Half the Man Ch. 05



She looked back briefly to Mari and with wide smile, gloated just a little bit — Harper was too kind to be cruel to excess, but she couldn't help herself, "Thank you so much for splitting up with Dylan. He has made my life more complete than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams. He is my lover, my best friend, my very soul.

"It was very good meeting you, but we must bid you adieu! Ta-ta!" Then much to the kids delight she swatted Dylan's butt and started for the exit.

Dylan picked up Pete threw him over his shoulder and collected his tablet from the table. "Well we have a plane to get on, you take care of yourself Mariette." as he turned with a slight limp to follow his wife and daughter. "Right behind you Lady Dove."

Mariette watched as her ex husband walked out of the mall and her life forever. She reflected on her years after Dylan. In truth they were better than okay, and sometimes even great. But after seeing him with his lovely children and hearing his wife's praise, she would forever wonder—'what if?'

Several minutes passed before she got up and left the coffee shop and when Mariette left, she was humming,

  'I've got no strings

To hold me down

To make me fret, or make me frown

I had strings

But now I'm free

There are no strings on me...' 

THE END

 Voting is turned on 

 Once again I would like to thank DeYaken, Laptopwriter, and Robert for their able help on my story.

I hope you enjoyed this different and unique romantic roller coaster ride.

Comments are always welcome.

A special thanks to Postscriptor the best editor there is. 

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"You are such a beautiful cookie decorator Corrine," Mari said, and tickled her daughter's nose. "These Christmas designs are simply gorgeous." The little girl giggled and smiled.

The phone rang, and Mari looked at the caller ID. "Why would Monmouth Correctional Facility be calling? It's probably a wrong number." She let the call go and went back to cookie decorating.

Five minutes passed and the same number called again, Mari let it go again. After the third time, she decided to answer.

"Hello?"

A woman's voice came on the phone. "Will you accept a collect call from..."

"Mariette, honey is that you?"

"D...d...daddy?" The case broke when the phone hit the floor followed by a hysterical woman.

"Mom? Mommy what's wrong? Mom?"

The phone in two pieces on the floor cracked with static, "Mariette, Mariette?" a man's voice cried from the beyond the grave.

******

Stay tuned for

 'Marionette'© a story in development by Mostera1©