Storiesonline.net
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                               Fifth Place
                                by RPSuch

Copyright© 2006 by RPSuch


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Description: A man lies to his wife and cheats on her. Should his prospective girlfriend trust him?

Codes: no-sex rom cheat
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Having spoken to my editors and other people, apparently Ha Ha is not as well known as I thought. All persons playing a game of Ha Ha lie down on the floor, each with their head on the stomach of another player, everyone connected like dominos. The first player says, "Ha." The player on whose stomach his head is resting says, "Ha Ha." Each player adds an additional "Ha" until everybody is rolling on the floor laughing. I don't recall playing a round of Ha Ha that went beyond "Ha Ha Ha Ha" before everyone broke into uncontrollable laughter. Kids enjoy it, but it's a fun time for adults as well.

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Chapter 1

"I'm free for dinner tonight. I'm free for dessert as well."

Her tone was suggestive. Her body was seductive and her face was captivating, with that tight skin, made possible by exposing it to the elements only infrequently for her twenty-four years.

She was charming, friendly and sexy. Under other circumstances, I would have been out of my chair before she finished her second sentence.

"You know I'm a married man."

"That isn't fatal, is it?"

And she had a sense of humor. But she worked for me and that could be fatal. Eventually another employee would figure out what was going on and some time after that all the employees would know about it. Some time later my wife would know. That wasn't how I wanted to end it.

"Go home, have a life."

"Your loss," she said.

"But first, let's have a hug." I wiggled the fingers of both hands in the "come here" gesture.

"You're just a dirty old man at heart."

"I'm just showing my affection and appreciation for a valued employee."

"Sure you are."

She joked about it, but she would have been offended if I hadn't requested it.

I was telling the truth, just not the whole truth.

She was the fourth woman I had hugged today. Traces of her perfume mixed with those of the others. I became a touchy-feely person because I truly believe it enhances both personal and business relationships. I'm well known for that.

It also leaves me with such a mixed bouquet of women's scents that it would be absolutely inconceivable for it to arouse in my wife even the slightest suspicion that I had been inappropriate with another woman; just background noise.

I picked up the phone and called Linda.

It's funny how these things work out.

I had a desperate crush on Linda when I was thirteen. Unfortunately, it was unrequited. By the time she requited it, I had moved on.

Eventually, she moved on too. But the intensity we felt for each other, young though we were, somehow deepened our friendship. I was there for her when she dumped her creep of a husband, who was running around on her.

To make my whole connection with Linda even stranger, she had decided to take advantage of her natural talents as a matchmaker; she started a dating service where she got to know the people, which gave her an advantage over other services. She was very successful using her instincts about how people made connections and even offered dating advice when she sensed there was a problem with how one of her clients presented himself or herself.

Linda also did background checks on her clients to assure they did not misrepresent themselves to other clients. She usually called me for those services.

"Hey, Randy. Is this just a social call?" she asked.

"It is social, but I suppose not in the way you meant it. Do you have anything for me?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Of course, you know this comes with nothing remotely resembling a guarantee.

"I'm doing this because I'm your friend. But it's so unusual I don't even know if it's possible. The honesty you display about your dishonesty could really get in the way of getting somebody to trust you, not to mention that you lie about your financial situation. But, I understand where you're coming from."

"Geez, every time a lecture." But I knew it was not inappropriate.

"You may know what you're doing, but it sounds crazy to me. Anyway, her name is Karen Sugarman and you have a reservation at The Rose Tattoo at 7:30.

"I have to compliment you on that choice, by the way. It isn't cheap, but it definitely doesn't give the impression that you can afford to go anywhere you want. You're a devious man."

"I'd thank you, but I know it's not really a compliment and I'm only as devious as I feel I need to be. I do thank you, however, for everything you've done to help me."

"Don't mention it and I mean that literally. Don't tell anyone. It wouldn't exactly enhance my reputation."

When times are difficult, it's good to have friends.

I called home to tell my wife I had to meet a new client. I don't know if she believed it, but she accepted it. Most of the time when I called to tell her I had to meet a client, it was because I had to meet a client.

I reviewed some cases and packed up to leave. I didn't want to be late. Karen already knew from her conversation with Linda that I was deceitful; I certainly didn't want her to think I wasn't trustworthy.

I was pleased to find I made it five minutes early, but Karen had beaten me there and was seated. She wore a simple, dark blue dress that ended somewhere around her knees, I couldn't tell exactly where because she was seated. Karen had dark hair and was slim, but what I liked best was her smile.

She extended her hand rather than get up and I shook it firmly but without too much pressure. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"Nice to meet you too. Linda didn't tell me you were so beautiful."

She blushed. I liked that.

"So that wasn't a requirement?"

"A bonus; but not a requirement."

"I I, this is really unusual." She momentarily scrunched up her face. "I'm not sure, what to do."

"It's just like a blind date, except that you know a lot about me."

"And you're married," she noted.

"Yes."

"You've done this before, I take it?"

"Yes, it just hasn't worked out."

"Can I ask why you want to meet someone this way instead of someplace people normally meet?"

"Why don't we order first, then I'll answer any questions you have and talk about whatever you want to talk about?"

We looked at our menus, gave the waitress, Tara, our order, and I answered her question.

"I'm not looking to take you somewhere tonight and have my way with you. I'm looking to start a serious, long-term relationship with someone.

"I took a practical approach to a problem and asked my friend Linda to help me out. Very few women are going to even have an interest in talking about this kind of situation. And a fair percentage of those that will, are drawn to married men so they can avoid commitment.

"I'm looking for commitment."

Karen laughed nervously.

"Why don't you just get a divorce and look for a normal woman, not that I'm not normal. You realize this isn't an easy conversation." Her tone reflected discomfort.

"If our relationship reaches a point where it has the potential to get serious, I'll tell you everything. I know this is going to sound silly, but I don't know you well enough and it's too personal to talk about under these circumstances."

This time she just laughed.

"It does sound silly. But I don't jump to the end of a novel so I'll know what's coming while I read all the good parts; I think I have the patience to wait to find out where the plot takes us."

"Nice analogy. Linda said you were very bright." Dinner arrived and conversation slowed, though it didn't end.

"Don't you worry about your wife catching you?" she asked. "This is a very public place. You're out on a week night instead of at home with your family. It seems risky."

"What would I be caught at? Who are you? You could be a client, a potential employee, a contact I hope can provide business in the future. You could be a colleague and we're sharing war stories, or a vendor with an interesting product.

"This is a very public place and I'm out on a week night. What could possibly look more innocent? There was no passionate kiss, just a handshake."

Karen would need a lot more questions answered so I let her take it at her own pace. I commented on how good the food was and she agreed.

"Do you have it all planned out like this, meeting publicly to avoid suspicion? Is everything so calculating?" she asked.

"I hope so. I'm certainly not planning on getting caught."

"I'd like some coffee if you see the waitress."

I nodded. "Tara. I wonder if it's her stage name."

"So what do you see for," she shrugged as if she didn't know how to describe it, "the other woman?"

"Ah. Let me make it easier by talking about you as if you were the other woman.

"In a fairy-tale world, we would get to know and like each other. From that would develop mutual respect and trust and we would grow to love each other. We'd get married, have a family and live happily ever after; the end.

"But I don't have any plans to divorce my wife until the kids are grown. That pretty much puts a damper on the marriage thing, even if we were in Utah.

"So, my second choice is that we live as if we were married, except I'd have a previous family I'd have to spend a lot of my time with. I'd devote as much of my time and interest to you and our kids as I possibly could. And of course, I'd be completely faithful to you, except for my legal wife. I can't avoid that without arousing some suspicion.

"I'll sign a contract that gives you rights as close to legal marriage as possible. And when I get divorced, I'll promptly marry you."

"How could I possibly resist such a romantic offer?"

Karen didn't exactly laugh, but she was obviously amused.

"Regular or decaf?"

"Regular."

I had our Tara's eye and held my thumb and index finger together as if daintily holding a coffee cup. Then I held up one finger.

"You don't fool around on your wife at all?"

"Given what we're talking about, it would be pretty silly to deny it, but only when absolutely necessary."

"So why should I trust you?"

"Because I give you my word."

"Didn't you promise that to her?"

"It's a complicated situation. I'll get into that when we're nearing the point where moving forward puts you at risk of being hurt. Then you'll know enough to decide whether you can trust me or not.

"Look, I know I've displayed sneaky and dishonest behavior. I've even been called upon to lie. But I'm confident that I'll be able to show you that I'm completely trustworthy."

"You've given me a pile of contradictions that don't seem to make any sense. A slightly more cynical woman would just say you're full of shit," said Karen.

"Yes."

"Thank you," she said, not to me but to Tara, who brought her coffee. Karen added one sugar and took a sip.

"Good coffee. Linda told me you aren't crazy and you absolutely wouldn't try to con me so, for the time being, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt that there is actually some sense behind this confusion."

"Thank you."

"But, I've got maybe just a question or two."

I smiled. That didn't require an answer.

"Why don't you just get divorced?" Karen raised her hand in a stop gesture and tilted her head.

"I know, you'll tell me later. Why do want a second family now? Why don't you just wait until you're divorced?"

"I'm thirty-four. The youngest child is three. When he graduates high school I'll be forty nine. If I got married immediately after that and had a child quickly, I'd be sixty-eight when he or she graduated high school.

"That's awfully old to start a new family and it's awfully old to try to connect to a young child. I'll be Daddy when everyone else my age will be grandpa. I'm not sure that's a good situation in which to raise a child.

"Starting a new family at thirty four or thirty five, however, is not unusual. Other parents will be in that age group. I won't be an old guy when they head off to college."

"I can understand that." She took another sip.

I would have to remember to ask her whether she was using the coffee to give her a chance to think about what I said and how to get the answers she needed with follow up questions or whether, in this case, a cigar was just a cigar.

"You already have that family," she said. "Why do you need another?"

"Good. You ask the tough questions. I'll talk about the problems that led to this later. But what I've been expressing is my, solution, to the problems.

"I came to the decision that I deserve to have this family I want at a time in my life when I'm young enough to enjoy it and able to best support and nurture it.

"You may be the one. You may not. There may be no one. But if I'm going to do it, I have to get started because it could take a while. You'd be surprised at how few women are lining up for this opportunity."

"I am surprised. I expected the line to wind half way around the block." Her tone left no doubt she had mastered irony.

"You are hot, and not in a boy-toy way. You have a presence, I'll give you that. I haven't read your financial statement, but you're obviously not poor if you believe you can support two families.

"On the other hand, from the way you dress and your choice of restaurant, you're probably not rolling in money either.

"There's nothing wrong with the way you dress, but it's not custom-made expensive. Your hair isn't coiffed or styled, no showy jewelry. And this is a perfectly lovely restaurant with excellent food, but not a place you would take someone you wanted to impress with your money."

Karen folded her arms across her chest. "What is my bra size?"

I shrugged.

"You haven't looked. We've been together nearly an hour and a half and you haven't looked." She put her arms back down on the table.

"34-B, maybe small C."

She laughed. It was a lovely laugh.

"You're confident. You make good eye contact when we're speaking and when you hesitate I don't see any attempt at deception in your eyes or your body language. I'd guess that the hesitations are when you're trying to put something in an accurate, understandable way rather than an attempt to spin it so I'll find it more palatable.

"Outside of the things you're holding back, you've gone out of your way to warn me about all the things that should make me not want to get involved with you. You're mysterious, but I trust you. All of which means that you better work really hard to win me or someone like me, because when you talk about all the mystery, you come across as callous and unfeeling.

"That is really attractive to women looking for a bad boy, and the circumstances will really reinforce that. But they're going to be disappointed to find out that's not really you.

"I have no idea which way you vote."

I looked over my shoulder, as if to search for someone following me.

"Are you here to meet me or investigate me?" I asked.

She just laughed. I had to figure out how she did that magic act.

"I think we skipped the small talk part of getting to know each other. I really don't care what your sign is, but I'd like to know what you do for a living."

"I'm a psychologist. I teach at Penn," she said.

"Professor?"

"Associate."

"That doesn't explain everything."

"I sometimes help pick juries."

"That's..." I knew it was something, but I couldn't figure out what. "Are you going to help me out with how I feel?"

"I don't do that. And the better I get to know you the less likely I am to use those skills. It's really hard to remember to do it in personal relationships."

"Disturbing. I think that's the word I was looking for."

"But you say it with a smile and no tension. It disturbed you intellectually, but it didn't bother you emotionally because you're very open when you're not being secretive."

I chuckled. "You're starting to sound like me. You could fit right in with this cloak and dagger."

Karen was right. I had no interest in hiding anything from her.

"Dessert?" I asked.

"I could look at the menu."

"I'm not sure what happened here. Did we just move on to the next stage of dating? Did we decide we're not going any further? Or is this just the strangest date I've ever been on?"

"This was the strangest date I've ever been on before you even showed up."

"Okay, so we haven't broken up?" I asked.

"No."

"That was a little bit freaky."

"You should watch me take notes and do it for a whole jury pool. That would be freaky. I'll have the chocolate macadamia nut brownie, topped with white chocolate, caramel, and vanilla ice cream."

"How do you get to know somebody better in a club where you can't even hear your own voice?"

"No, no, ballroom dancing. There are a number of clubs in the area if that's something you're interested in."

She had a big smile. I had no idea what it meant.

"Those women I mentioned, who will initially see you as the bad boy, are going to walk away muttering and shaking their heads, convinced you are a sign they should give up the dangerous life and settle down."

I paid by credit card.

Karen gave me a quizzical look.

"You might wonder about the wisdom of creating a trail of evidence that could come into my home. Who would be stupid enough to create evidence of infidelity? Certainly not me. The fact that the meal will show up on a statement is proof that I was not doing anything wrong.

"It would be much more suspicious to have a meal paid for in cash. Besides, if this doesn't work out, I can certainly find a way to use you in my business, so, of course, this interview is deductible.

You're quite calculating," she said.

"Did you bring your car?" I asked, to try to make arrangements.

"No, I took a taxi."

I helped her into my car and got in behind the wheel.

"Accord, six cylinder, top of the line. Comfortable, but not affluent."

"You're a very confident woman, aren't you?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No, I find it really hot."

Again, that delightful laugh.

"And if I'd been shy and demure, would you have found that really hot?"

"You wound me."

"I know. Just kidding."

"And you're one of the smartest people I've ever met. That can

be intimidating."

"Are you intimidated?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. Now I have a compliment for you. You didn't have any idea what my bra size was because you didn't bother to look at my breasts.

"A man who doesn't bother to look, doesn't care what size they are. That alone qualifies you for MENSA."

It's a good thing I wasn't drinking anything or I would have spit it out.

"You have a terrific sense of humor. And, yes, that's sexy too."

"Almost everyone finds it sexy."

"And you're one of the smartest people I've ever met. That can

be intimidating."

"This may sound disingenuous, although I'd like to think I've earned some credibility during the course of this relationship, but how have you managed to stay single?

"You're charming, you're funny, you're brilliant, you're gorgeous, you're confident. You say what you think so I don't get the impression that you dissemble, you're not just trim, you're fit and I haven't gotten even a whiff of attitude over your having the complete package.

"You must have had your choice of virtually anyone. How can you not be spoken for?"

"Dissemble? I've read it. I've heard it in plays. But I never heard a person use it in actual speech. There was no other word you could have chosen?"

"I was describing things about you and it's the first word that came into my head. It seemed to have all the connotations I was looking for all rolled up into one word, rather than a phrase, so I didn't stop it from jumping out of my mouth."

Karen raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything.

"So, how is it you're not spoken for?"

"As you said, I'm pretty smart. Many men find that intimidating. I am confident. Some men find that intimidating. I speak my mind. More men find that intimidating. I make more money than most men and they find that intimidating. I wouldn't say beautiful, but I'll concede I'm attractive enough for many men to be intimidated.

"Put together all those intimidatings and I really haven't had much to choose from. And from those slim pickings, a lot of them are so full of themselves, nobody could intimidate them."

"So the cupboard is so bare you're reduced to giving me a shot. You are in desperate straits."

"Nice sense of humor yourself," she said. "So when did the ballroom craze hit you?"

"A long time ago. I used to dance with my wife. We took lessons too. Then eventually she said it wasn't fun anymore so we stopped going."

I shrugged.

She had been looking at me for the entire conversation. A look passed across her face and was gone. I don't know if it was sadness or disappointment that her life had led her to actually consider what must have seemed like second class romance with me. Or was it just concentration?

I parked and Karen opened her own door.

"The independent woman," she said to me with an enigmatic smile.

The first number was a Foxtrot and she followed flawlessly. That encouraged me to try more complicated steps even though she might not know them or have ever seen them.

She followed as if we had been dancing together for years. When it ended, all Karen had time to say was, "Wow," before a swing number started up.

Again she followed effortlessly and when the number ended she threw back her head, and her hair, and was laughing.

We sat to catch our breath.

"That was really fun. You're a terrific leader. I never even saw some of that stuff, but I could tell exactly what you wanted. People who don't dance, don't get the connection you develop from doing it. More."

No, they don't.

I get to put my arm around a woman and hold her much closer than would be possible, or permissible, in any other public context. Our faces are so close to each other.

When you see people that close in the movies, it feels uncomfortable somehow. But dancing, it is natural.

I get to hold her soft hand in mine. I get to move with her and she matches my moves exactly. It is as if there is only one mind, shared between us, moving two bodies. There is no struggle of wills. I ask, she complies.

If she has time, and it doesn't mess up the rhythm, she may throw in an additional movement or wiggle or posture. I'm in charge, but we share the experience. It's almost spiritual. Maybe not almost.

We danced for about two hours. It was time to go. Karen leaned her head back, stretched her arms, closed her eyes and let out a sound, "Aaaaaaahhhh. That was fabulous. No matter what happens between us, if you ever want to go out dancing, you call me. It was wonderful just to let go of all control and do whatever you asked. It's almost like I was a submissive tonight."

"So I'm a Dom?"

"A leader; a no-equivocation, no-hesitation leader."

She was shaking head as if in disbelief. She added a shrug.

"Get me out of here before I get carried away."

She hugged me tight, moving her head to the side of mine so there was no possibility of kissing.

"Thank you. I don't think I've had a better date."

She told me where she lived and I only needed instructions at the end.

"I'm sure it's completely obvious, but in the wildly unlikely event that you missed it, I'd like to pursue this," I told her.

"I can't remember when I've heard it more romantically put. We, I've never developed such a strong connection so quickly. I'd be interested in pursuing this even if you were only looking for a mistress."

Then, after a brief time of looking at each other and sorting through our own thoughts, we moved together as easily as a perfect lead and follow and kissed for a considerable time.

Karen was pressed against me as we explored each other's teeth and tongues and passion. Then we separated, understanding that I had to get home. It had not been brief, but it was all too brief. I was noticeably aroused. She noticed.

"Is your wife going to get the benefit of that?" Karen asked, glancing down.

"Probably not." I made a facial expression I thought to be the equivalent of a shrug. "I'll call you."

"And I'll call you if you don't."



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Chapter 2

"And goodnight to the old lady whispering 'hush.'

"Good night stars.

"Goodnight air.

"Goodnight noises everywhere."

I knew Justin was asleep. He would definitely have joined in with "hush," had he been awake.

He was already past three, but I suspected I might have to keep reading him Goodnight Moon until he graduated high school.

I put down the book, turned out the light and headed to the kitchen where Nancy was studying at the table.

Earlier, she had told me she needed some help with Social Studies. In this particular case, she was having trouble remembering some names and dates.

I was tempted to tell Nancy that the reason she was having trouble was that nobody really ought to care, and names and dates were mostly irrelevant. What was important were the concepts of why things happened and the general time periods in which they happened, the flow of history. I was tempted, but I didn't.

I remembered the math incident.

My younger brother Richard had a very unpleasant encounter with an algebra test. Actually, it was really an unpleasant encounter with an algebra teacher.

Richard had understood all the material covered in the test and used the concepts correctly except for the slight problem that he was careless with his arithmetic. Sometimes he would use the multiplication sign, but add the numbers. Sometimes he would subtract instead of divide.

All of the correct formulae and symbols were right there on his paper except for some of the final answers. And to this written proof of his understanding of the concepts, his teacher had affixed a red "55."

Mom said Dad should do something. Dad said that Richard had to learn to be more careful.

I tried to explain to him what a complete understanding of the material Richard had shown. I passionately argued that the answers were of minimal importance compared to understanding in order to correctly lay out the problems.

Dad was unmoved. So I decided to visit Richard's teacher on Parents' Night.

I confidently strode into the correct room. After all, I was a senior. Richard was just a ninth grader. "I'm looking for the engineering teacher, Mr. Werth."

"I'm Mr. Werth, but I'm the math teacher," he said.

"No, that isn't possible. I'm looking at this paper, and the engineering teacher marked many of these problems incorrect because the final numbers were wrong which, of course, is the correct approach in engineering. Do that kind of sloppy work and the bridge will fall down.

"But, if you were a math teacher, you would understand that the final answer is almost irrelevant. What is important is understanding the concepts and how to do the problems. I want to talk to the other Mr. Werth; the one who understands mathematics, not the guy who builds stuff."

I had meant to focus him on what was important in math: understanding the concepts. I thought this approach would bring clarity.

He thought I was insulting him. He said as much to the principal, who demanded an apology on behalf of Mr. Werth the following day.

Rather than proffer the requested apology, I sought to elucidate.

"Look at this handout. Look at all these extraneous steps. No wonder this dufus can't recognize when a test is done correctly, he doesn't even understand the material himself.

"Math is about concepts, not answers. He thinks he's teaching engineering. Look at these steps. They're here because he doesn't understand the basic concept that both sides of an equation --"

That was as much as I got to say. The principal was not concerned that fundamental principles of mathematics were not being taught correctly. And apparently, my attempt educate him on that point did not suffice for an apology in his opinion, because I was invited to spend the next week at home, rather than at school.

I may have been less than gracious in my acceptance of the principal's judgment.

"If that's the kind of stuff that's being taught here, I'll learn a lot more by not being here to have to listen to it."

Mom and Dad disagreed with my approach, at great length and volume. They made their points with words like "grounded" and "punished" and phrases like "you can't use the car for a month."

As a result of this incident I learned that, for most teachers, understanding the material completely was absolutely irrelevant. What they wanted was to have the material spoon fed back to them in the format in which they understood it. They didn't want a better way. They didn't want a more efficient way. They wanted their way.

So I decided not to try to retrain Nancy's teacher. I taught Nancy how to make up a silly story about the names and dates and details. Make up a silly, outrageous, inconsistent fantasy and it would be so memorable that any information you embedded in it would be unforgettable.

Harry didn't need any help with his school work so I just let him tell me about what was going on in school and, to the extent he was willing to talk, his life.

Betty noticed all of this activity. It wasn't anything unusual. I helped the kids whenever they needed it and, when I was home while they were up, I would visit if they didn't need any help.

"Nice you could spend some time with them," she said.

I could just leave it at that, but then you couldn't possibly understand what was going on.

Her tone could have said she noticed but really didn't much care what was going on.

It could have said this was because she was tired or she wasn't interested in them or in me or she was so involved in her own thoughts she was just marking time by commenting on what she'd seen.

She could have used a tone that said she loved to see the interaction between me and our kids and it warmed her heart to see we had such a close relationship.

Or, though as I have indicated it would have been unjustified, her tone could have contained a tinge of sarcasm. Or, more subtly, irony, because the time spent with them was so unusual in her opinion.

Betty opted for irony.

I had no idea whether she cared how I interpreted it. Our relationship was not the same as it was when we got married. I chose to see her irony and raise it.

"Yes, I really enjoy it. Don't you?"



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Chapter 3

"Randy, your 4:30, Karen Sugarman, is here," said the voice on the intercom.

I pressed the button on mine.

"Thanks, Bev. Please show her in."

I got up and walked toward the door. Beverly appeared, flanked by Karen. I extended my hand.

"Hi, Karen, nice to see you again."

She shook it and replied, "Nice to see you, too, Randy."

"Bev, please don't buzz in unless it's urgent."

"Sure, boss." Karen didn't see the leer Bev gave me before she closed the door.

She took a seat on the other side of my desk and started right in.

"As I said, I don't have anything like that prepared. The basic information is out there, but I don't think anyone has put it all together into a course. I have developed courses before, and my experience, and the generally accepted reality is that it takes around eight hours to prepare an hour of instruction."

"I fully expected that. I've done some courses myself. I'm prepared to pay for all that time but, if I do, I'll expect to own the copyright."

"Wow." Karen chuckled. "You said it would be strictly business and you weren't kidding. Any give there?"

"It's the typical work-for-hire-scenario. We pay a contractor for all the time required to produce a copyrightable work and we own the copyright."

"I know. I just thought you might cut some slack to a prospective girlfriend."

"Insufficient inducement. This has to be businesslike."

"What about some arrangement on future use of the materials? I might be able to give this course for other organizations. It would be nice not to have to create one from scratch."

"I can live with that. I wouldn't want you doing it for my competitors, but for government or in some other kind of group that would be okay."

"That's funny." She didn't laugh, but she had a big grin.

"What?"

"When it's a position you don't expect to move from, it's 'we.' When it's a position on which you have some flexibility, it's 'I.'"

"That is funny. I never noticed. I guess I will notice in the future."

We proceeded to discuss what would be included in the course about reading people in interrogation and taking statements or whatever the hell we were going to call it.

Beverly rang me at around five.

"I'm going to be heading out if you don't need me for anything, Randy."

Always the flirt, she put special emphasis on anything,.

"That's fine."

She waited briefly for a response that didn't come. "Would you like me to come in for my hug," she paused dramatically, "or should I take a rain check?"

"Uh, yes, that would be the better approach. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Was she being flirty?" asked Karen. I nodded. Karen added, "She has the hots for you, you know."

"No. We just kid around here a lot and we're all very friendly."

"That may be, but she still has the hots for you. Do you play in the office pool?"

"No, never. Am I sending the wrong signals?"

"I have no idea. I just needed to know for my end of the non-business business we have."

We talked about how long the course would be and, although I didn't want to make an open-ended commitment, we agreed that it would be as long as it needed to be.

I asked her to explain that amazing magic she had performed at our first dinner and she tried to give me an outline, but it mostly amounted to explaining what she would explain later.

I ordered in Chinese food. It wasn't that there was any problem being seen in a restaurant, but it was quiet in the office and there was no concern in talking about any topic.

We finished talking about the course and Karen moved on to some personal questions.

"I've done some research on you, but I figure you can save me time. You didn't stay with the FBI very long. What happened for you to cut it so short?"

She shoveled some fried rice into her mouth with the chopsticks.

"Well, a couple things. For one, my wife didn't think I would make enough working for the government, so she constantly encouraged me to leave and do something else. But, I guess it was really my last assignment that gave me the push.

"I hadn't been all that thrilled with the bureaucratic orientation to begin with. Then when I got sick from that assignment, the red tape they threw up to keep me from returning to work and to keep me from staying out of work, coupled with the paperwork about what happened and who should take the blame, well, it was just enough already."

"What happened with the assignment?"

"I can't talk about it."

"How long were you sick?"

"Many months."

"With what?"

"Radiation poisoning."

"That's nasty."

"Considering I survived, I'm fine with it, though it had some effects on my life."

"Gee, that's really informative," Karen said. I shrugged. "When did you meet your wife?"

"College. We got married when we graduated. I was approaching twenty, she was twenty-two. In hindsight, we were too young. Or maybe just too stupid. I spent three years in law school while I worked nearly full time."

"I didn't think you could finish in three years at night."

"Day. I cut a lot."

"They must have loved that."

"I didn't take out an ad in the paper. Anyway, we agreed to have kids. The first arrived shortly after I left the FBI, though we had been trying for a couple years, Harry. Two years later Nancy. Justin joined us four years after that.

"I told the FBI I was leaving because of the accident, so I didn't make any enemies, and they've pointed business my way. It helped me get started.

"I've been doing this for over nine years and we're doing okay. I did it again, didn't I, attributing the doing well to 'we' and the working to 'I?'"

"I suppose it's only fair that I give you my story," Karen said.

"We do security and private investigation. I know your story."

"Not too much, I hope."

"I don't know for sure, but I'd bet your password for anything you keep secure at home or work is either Sherri or Cuddles."

"Damn."

"It was just a guess. If we had needed it, we would have visited you unobtrusively."

"You mean burglarized?"

"That word carries such an unsavory connotation."

"Great, now I don't know if I can trust you not to snoop."

"I wouldn't abuse it. You can trust me completely. I wouldn't lie to you."

She laughed. "I suspect you already have," she said.

"You didn't let me finish. Unless it was really important." I smiled.

Karen laughed again. "There's never going to be a dull moment, is there?"

"Possibly not, but it should be fun. Speaking of which, what would you like to do when we finish up?"

"I want to go dancing again."

"Fortune cookie?"

She cracked it, put one piece in her mouth and threw the rest into the bag.

"It says, 'You may have a future with a man who can dance.'"

"Does it really say that?"

"Would I lie?" Her tone was ironic, yet flirtatious.

I smiled.

"Everyone lies."

So we talked about people lying, and about her, as we danced.

Dancing is a good way to get to know someone.

When you're getting to know each other, there are dinners across a table that physically separates you about three feet.

When you walk together afterward, unless you're arm in arm, the gap is reduced by half a foot.

When you talk at a party you may close the gap to two feet. Any less and the intimacy can be uncomfortable for people who have not known each other a long time.

But when you dance a slow dance, even if you've only just met, the distance is nine to twelve inches. You can feel the other person's breath on your skin, the warmth of it.

A few more dances, friendly conversation and you may wind up cheek to cheek, chest to chest as your muscles relax into what is perilously close to an embrace. And there is no social taboo. You're not rushing things; you're "just" dancing.

The proximity, the intimacy, encourages your conversation to follow suit. It quickly moves you well beyond, "The fish was very fresh." I've been told that women are especially susceptible to this effect - by the women I've danced with.

You tell her she has a lovely scent. She's a good dancer. She is so responsive. And it's true, despite the fact that you both suspect you're not just discussing dancing.

For Karen and me, that would come later. Despite the fact I wasn't offering a storybook relationship, I didn't just want to find someone who would be satisfied with that situation; I wanted someone I desperately wanted to spend my time with. Is that asking too much?

I knew some of Karen's background. I knew she graduated college at twenty. I knew she had her Ph.D. by twenty three.

I hadn't known she had a head start by taking college courses while still in high school or that she was starting to pile up graduate credits in her senior year of college.

I had no idea of the professional resentment and resistance she had faced because she was attractive, young and female, though I wasn't surprised.

She was quite comfortable in professional relationships, despite the continued resentment and envy she experienced.

Karen was slightly less comfortable in friendships. The same things that had made boys, and men, reluctant to approach her, kept friends at a greater distance than she perceived other people kept their friends.

Then she told me, "I'm twenty-eight and I can't say I've really had a boyfriend. I've dated people for a while, but there was never really a decision to make an emotional commitment to the relationship from either of us.

"It's been easier to talk to you and I've been more open with you than any man I've known. You're finding out everything that's wrong with me. But what do I have to lose? You can't really afford to be picky given what you're looking for."

Karen made a nervous laugh, trying to make it seem like a joke. But it wasn't exactly. I felt her body tense as she said it. I heard the truth in her voice. We were dancing cheek to cheek with considerable connection between our bodies.

My breath caught. My eyes moistened. Maybe someone was smoking. I moved us apart, still in a dance embrace. I spoke very softly.

"Don't say that. You're a treasure far beyond my means. That other people don't recognize it is their misfortune. That you don't is a tragedy."

I think the smoke was getting to her eyes, too. She pulled me in then changed her mind.

"I have to go to the ladies' room." She hurried off.

Damn. That must have sounded rehearsed, a sonnet of seduction. I had just spoken what was in my heart, but I'm sure if I saw it on paper, I would have imagined a screen writer tossing pieces of paper in the waste basket as he, or more likely she, searched for the precise phrasing to cause the victim to drop her guard.

Perhaps Karen would understand. Last time we were out together she had heard something just leap out of my mouth. I would like her to understand. But it struck me as far more important that she realize how special she was, whether or not she figured out how to get confirmatory praise from men, sincere or not.

It saddened me that her experience in this culture prevented her from emotionally understanding her worth without validation from men, many of whom she knew would not hesitate to say things to a woman in the hope of gaining something from her.

How could I help possibly her recognize her worth? Whatever I might say, I could well be one of them.

Karen took quite some time to return. When she returned, she had an enigmatic smile. That's the worst kind. How are you supposed to have any idea what it means?

"I'd just like to sit and listen to the music for a while," she said.

Great! Something, probably important, is going on and she wants the luxury of thinking about it. All right, it's not a luxury to her; it's probably a necessity. But while she has the opportunity to think about it, understand it and work it out in her mind, I'm just going to be sitting here like a fool, and I don't even know what "it" is.

I simply said, "Okay."

Maybe it's something that is necessary for women, but it seems inordinately cruel to us men to make us sit and watch, clueless bystanders to some unknown event.

What should this course include? Are the revelations in the details of what we observe or are we looking for patterns? Should we set aside some lab time to practice the skills? Are we going to need to create scenarios and train actors to be the people we observe, like the people who present with scripted symptoms to train doctors?

I should probably make a list of questions and issues to discuss with her, but I'm pretty sure that if I took out a note pad and pen and started writing it down while she is sitting here thinking, she would, unfairly, judge me insensitive.

"Can we dance? No talk, just dance?"

Karen stood there waiting for my answer for a moment. It must have been too important for her to keep waiting.

"Okay?" she asked.

I got up and offered her my hand. She leaned into me with very little pressure. Her head rested on my left shoulder, her arm was over the right. Her body was very relaxed. I enjoyed it.

I would also have enjoyed knowing what was going on.

What is it with women? They're always saying, "Talk to me! Tell me what you're thinking," in that urgent, agitated, strident manner. They have emotions, feelings to be worked out.

What are we men, chopped liver? We will not be treated this way. I was going to stand up for our gender, quietly. So I spoke my piece.

"Hath not a man eyes? Hath not a man hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a woman is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?"

Karen just followed silently for a time. Then she responded quietly and slowly.

"My God. How you surprise me." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm sorry. You're right. Unless your point was that, like Shylock, I shouldn't trust you. I think we forget you men have feelings. Why talk about our immediate issue when your silence just means you're thinking about the score of some game?"

"Our silence often means we have no idea what's going on."

"I know." She sighed. "You really got me with that treasure thing."

"Treasure thing?" I teased.

"Yeah, treasure thing. I'm a treasure far beyond your means. You know what treasure thing. You meant it. That was no line. I could see it in your eyes. I could hear it in your passion. It moved me, but I wasn't sure quite how, so I had to think about it."

Karen shook her head a few times. "This is all too quick. Not just the way we're moving, but some of the message of that treasure thing made me think about my view of myself, where it came from, the messages I've gotten from other people, how it came about and what it all means."

"Oh, is that all?"

She smiled. "I'm getting into the danger zone where I'm starting to care about you. You are physically appealing, though that wouldn't make any difference. You have a good sense of humor, you're very smart, you seem to be straightforward and you've shown interest in me, which is always attractive."

Again she smiled. Karen certainly could get to the heart of a matter.

"You're confident, you're successful, and you seem to think things out before you take action. Have you been involved in undercover operations?" The tone said this was clearly rhetorical.

"Did you learn enough doing that to be able to run a con on me? Perhaps. But for what reason? I can't think of any advantage you would gain and many ways it could cost you.

"Then there's my side of the danger zone. You're right that I haven't exactly been built up by men. I think maybe they were too insecure, but whatever the reason, they didn't help me.

"I've, been out with you twice and I'm already more emotionally involved with you than I've been with any man in my life. You didn't realize that, did you?"

"No. That silence thing didn't give me all that much information."

She laughed. "So now I'm at a fork in the road."

"Take it," I said.

"Very funny. But I think I'm going to take the road I've traveled less. That means that, at this surprisingly early juncture, you're going to have to fill me in fully."

"I wonder if I'm being conned," I joked.

She gave me one of those looks that only women can do. This was not an appropriate time to be kidding around. Of course, that had rarely stopped me before.

"I don't think we should go back to my place. My wife would probably not be very helpful in this conversation. And, I really wouldn't want to involve the kids. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Is that your version of my place or yours?"

"So it's your place then?"

We left dancing early, which was probably good since it gave us more time to talk.



-------

Chapter 4

"Regular. The caffeine won't keep me up."

We were in her kitchen. She hadn't mentioned a brand and I wasn't enough of a coffee aficionado that it made any difference, but I hadn't acquired a taste for decaf.

"Artificial sweetener and milk would be nice," I said.

She puttered around, taking things out of cabinets. The water was heating in the coffee maker.

"I think I have some things figured out. You have a way of putting things that is very revealing, probably. Everyone does.

"If you say you prefer your coffee black, it means you may be willing to do it a different way. That might be to ingratiate yourself to your hostess or you might want it enough not to quibble over it not being the way you prefer.

"But, if you said you take your coffee black, that probably means you are not willing to compromise. If you can't have it that way, you don't want it.

"That's just a very simple example, but most people give away lots of information they have no intention of revealing. I'm sure I do it too. It's unintentional.

"Your see your wife as a burden, or at best a responsibility. You've never referred to her by name to me. That keeps her impersonal, and I don't think it's because you care whether I have any connection to her, but that your connection to her is not something you value."

I could feel the flush. She had to see me turning red.

"But you love the kids," she said softly.

I nodded.

"You're worried about them if you leave."

"Yes."

"There's more, isn't there?"

"Yes."

"I'm pretty sure I know some of it.

"I don't know where you are with this, but, for me, it's decision time. I went into this with mild interest and a fair amount of amusement, but you come with Linda's highest recommendation and that counts for a lot.

"The more time I spend with you, the more I want to spend. It happened surprisingly fast, especially for me. I'm more hooked than I've ever been. Yet you're just barely available and I've known you such a short time."

She shook her head.

"It's, overwhelming. So, before I get drawn in any further, I need to know the whole deal. If it's too soon for you, I, I have to back off."

"Lucky for you, no, lucky for me, you're very special, and you're absolutely captivating. If I wasn't ready to, gee, listen to me. I sound like I'm trying to smooth my way into a business deal. I ought to be grown up enough to tell you I'm falling in love with you."

"That must be why the Baptists are so against dancing. Look how it sped us up."

"We might as well assess our compatibility on some key issues."

"You are such a romantic." Her use of irony was unmistakable, but I could not help but love her smile.

"Children: I guess we've both indicated we want them. How many? Do you care?"

"Two to four," she said. "I'm not sure you really know until you have them."

I sighed deeply.

"You've got that right. Money: how much do you want? How important is it?"

"I don't want to have to worry how the bills are getting paid, or the mortgage. Beyond that I don't much care. I think we're probably in agreement on that from what I've observed. Money is just something you use to buy stuff. It has no intrinsic value to me."

"Agreed. Travel: importance, frequency?"

"I've done a lot of travel. I liked it but I don't feel the urgency to go back to places I've already been. I do think it might be fun to share some of the places I've been with someone I love. Do you get to ask all the questions? Just a businessman running down a checklist?"

"I've had a lot of time and experience being in a relationship. It's given me the opportunity to think about what I want and what I don't want. So, yeah, I guess I have a checklist. Don't you?"

"Sort of. But, it never really made any difference because I never got far enough to think about that stuff, let alone talk about it with anybody.

"Having thought about it, though, I think, at this point, there's only one thing I really want: a man who thinks I'm a treasure beyond his means."

"That really got to you didn't it?"

"You could have thrown me down on the floor and taken me in the middle of all those people."

This time I knew without any coaching that it was not a moment for humor. It was usually just an automatic reaction. That would be dismissing the importance to her of what she was telling me.

"Who would have thought such a simple phrase could have such power?"

"Sincerity can be very seductive. I want you so bad now my skin hurts."

I moved to sit beside her and reach for her.

"No." She put out a hand to keep me away. "I want to wait. I want to wait until I need it so bad I'd do it with my parents in the room. I want to need it so bad I'm comatose when you're done with me."

I was starting to sweat.

"Talk about the power of words."

"So, do you like to travel?"

What!? How did she do such an abrupt about-face?

"Uh, I can take it or leave it. I've done quite a bit for business, so I don't have the urgency. But it can be fun with the right people. I assume you're not interested in being a stay-at-home," the proper word eluded me, if there was a proper word, "wife?"

"No. Is that what you'd prefer?"

"Not hardly. What about sex, what do you like?"

"That was a subtle segue. But I suppose it's all good," she said.

"Anything you prefer? Anything you won't do? Better to know these things up front."

"You guys don't get it. Yes, women like sex too. But it's completely different in the context of a relationship. Yeah, doing something naughty or illicit can be exciting. If you ask me if I like straight missionary sex, I'll tell you sure, it's fun. But if you ask about missionary with someone I trust and care for very deeply, I'll tell you it's wonderful.

"Let me give you an example. That dinner we had the night we met: it was a very nice meal in a nice restaurant. We had the excitement of just having met, the anticipation of everything that could happen as a result. It was very nice.

"If we had the same meal right now, with the way I feel about you, it would be a completely different experience. I'd be looking forward to going dancing and being held by you in a way that doesn't just say I'm the leader, follow me, but with a connection that's emotionally charged.

"Or I might be looking forward to coming back here and making love with you or even just holding hands and talking about things important to us. That dinner would be a much more robust experience."

I formed my lips in a small circle and blew out a "woo" sound of incredulity.

"It's not just smart women who turn you on, is it? You really go for articulate women."

"I want to throw you down and climb aboard."

"I want you to. But don't. This is too good to spoil with hot, frenzied sex."

"Spoil? You do have a way with words."

I was shaking my head while smiling.

She moved in for a steaming, passionate kiss. In a Saturday morning cartoon, we'd have had smoke coming out of our ears.

When we broke it, in a very soft voice she said, "You've got to be going home. You can only stay out so late before it becomes suspicious."



-------

Chapter 5

A week later she was in our training room showing me her outline for the course. I asked appropriate questions and she gave appropriate answers. We spend a few hours in there going over the materials and as the day waned, employees trickled out, wishing us good night, until only the two of us were left.

There was nothing in our behavior to suggest that this was anything but a strictly business relationship. And it was a business relationship, just not strictly.

"I don't want to stay here any later but we still have some things to discuss about the course."

"Are there really things to discuss, or do you just want another date?" she asked.

"No, I can make a case that there is more to discuss now. I can also make a case that there are other things to discuss."

She nodded.

"Why don't we go back to your place and continue to talk while we make ourselves dinner?"

"Is that actually we, or is it the 'you' we?"

"I'm very good in the kitchen, among other rooms."

"Good. You can make dinner. I'm okay in the kitchen, but nothing special."

"No. I want to do it together. It's a good way to learn intangible things about each other."

She frowned.

"Is this a course you've worked out on relationship building?"

"No, divorce avoidance. A little extra work at hormone time would prevent a lot of divorces."

"Because they wouldn't get married?"

"Exactly."

We talked about what she had to work with in her kitchen and decided to go shopping. She didn't keep the place fully stocked. I picked up two salmon steaks, a few scallions, a small jar of sesame seeds, a small jar of sesame oil and a head of cauliflower. She had garlic, carrots and broccoli at home.

"So, I take it you're not expecting to get lucky tonight," she said. "Neither of us is going to smell very good."

"No, I'm expecting to get very lucky."

I said it slowly and with apparent sincerity. She raised her doubtful eyebrows. I got a confused look on my face.

"Oh, you were talking about sex. I meant I was going to be with a fascinating woman and get to know her much better tonight."

She appeared doubtful, then thoughtful, then amused.

"You were toying with me, weren't you?"

I smiled.

She didn't have a fine grater so she had to use a cheese grater to zest half an orange. I told her to mix it in a bowl with the sesame seeds.

Meanwhile I placed the scallion on a cutting board, put the tip of a large vegetable knife on the board and started chopping small, dark green ringlets. I had to move the knife to complete the job so it took around five seconds.

I cut rings from the onion end and shoved them into a frying pan with a couple pats of butter.

"Damn. Did you go to some culinary school?"

She added 4 pinches of salt to her mixture and stirred it.

I sliced the carrot into quarters and proceeded to cut it essentially the same way as the scallion.

"No, but I read and I've had lots of practice."

The carrot went into the frying pan.

"Preheat the oven on broil."

I cut the broccoli and cauliflower as close to the florets as I could manage. There's nothing wrong with eating a little bit of the stalk, but I think it's more esthetically pleasing this way.

"Rub a little of the sesame oil on top of the salmon steaks with your fingers. Make sure it's pretty well covered, but that shouldn't take much oil."

The broccoli and cauliflower joined the frying pan and I turned the flame on medium.

I put two cloves of garlic on the cutting board and smacked each with the flat of the knife. The skin peeled off with little effort.

"I apologize if it's obvious, but wash and dry your hands before you sprinkle the mixture on top of the salmon."

I smacked each clove, harder this time, holding the knife on top of each in turn.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"I read that it breaks more cell walls than slicing them and it releases more flavor."

I added the squashed garlic to the frying pan and it started to sizzle.

"It adds flavor to the mix, but if you don't like garlic, the pieces are big enough to avoid this way."

"You know an awful damn lot about cooking. Are you sure you're not really a chef?"

"I love to cook. I think it's time to put the fish in the broiler. It should only take eleven or twelve minutes in there."

She put it in and started to set the table.

"What kind of work does your wife do?"

"I think she's retired."

"You think?"

"Well, she doesn't work. She doesn't clean. She often cooks and she spends about as much time with the kids as I do, so I guess she's either a part-time housewife or she's retired."

I continued to stir the sautéing vegetables.

"I take it that's not what you're looking for. What are you looking for? It wasn't always like that, was it?"

"Of course not. Who would get married with that expectation? Well, I guess lots of people would, but not me.

"What am I looking for? Backup. Like my partner in the Bureau. I want to know that whatever happens to me, it's easier, less dangerous, more manageable because my partner's got my back.

"I want to have the confidence that when she's got to figure out what to do in a situation, she's thinking about how it will affect me as much as how it will affect her.

"And not just thinking about it; that it's important to her. That's what I want more than anything."

I turned off the flame under the vegetables and moved toward the oven.

"And you don't have that now?"

"No, I don't."

I put on the oven mitts, opened the broiler and took out the baking dish.

"You're not giving it to her either."

"No, I'm not. We're both long past that."

I poked the salmon with a fork and it flaked nicely.

"Trivet?"

I looked at the table and she had put one out. I set the dish down on it.

She sat down at her place setting.

"Were you ever like that?"

I lifted out a salmon steak and put it on her plate and put the other on mine.

"We both were."

I took the baking dish to the sink and returned with the vegetables, which I pushed onto our plates, alongside the salmon steaks.

"I can't really say who did a better job, but it certainly came to an end."

I took the frying pan back to the stovetop and returned with the scallion ringlets. I sprinkled them over the salmon and vegetables on both plates and sat down.

"Wow. That's beautiful. Restaurant presentation. And it smells wonderful."

"Thank you."

She took a forkful of salmon and closed her eyes and made an "mmmm" sound as she chewed it.

She followed it up with a forkful of vegetables. This time it was a groan that sounded almost sexual. "Oh, my God. This is five-star restaurant quality. How can a woman lose focus with a man who cooks like this? I'd almost be willing to go lesbian if I could find a woman who cooks like this. What's it called?"

"Sesame crusted salmon. The vegetables shall remain nameless."

Conversation lagged for a few minutes because she was just making noises instead of speaking. Finally, she came out of it. "I've lost my train of thought. What were we talking about?" she asked.

"Sex."

"I haven't lost it that much. I'm pretty sure we weren't," she said.

"Well, since you bring it up," she flashed me a look that didn't stop me, "is there anything you won't do?"

She thought a bit.

"It's hard to talk about it that way. I won't do anything with someone I don't have feelings for. It's not an issue of morality. I don't even much enjoy kissing someone unless the feelings are there. Those kisses with you were restaurant quality.

"I don't see anything in relatively mainstream sex that would be disgusting enough to put me off. I mean, like I'm not into toe sucking, but if that really did it for you, well, I would have no problem. It's in a context. Am I willing to try this for the man I love? Yes.

"I don't have a lot of experience, but I'll have to find out I don't like something before I say I won't do it. Is that what you meant by your question?"

"Yes. And I'll answer that I agree with you completely."

"What about the relationship between money and success?" she asked. "Where do you stand on that?"

"They're related coincidentally. I run the business to be successful, and I enjoy it, but I don't really care how much I make.

"I don't need homes in foreign places. You saw what kind of car I drive. I don't think I'll surprise you by saying that I could afford a more expensive car. I'm happy with what I have.

"The success I'd rather have is family, friends, relationships. By that standard, I'm not doing as well as I'd like."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, I'm trying to do something about it. Hopefully it will work out."

She smiled. "I like your chances." It was quiet and reassuring.

We cleaned up the dishes and went into her living room. She snuggled under my arm on the couch.

"You're an interesting man. I think you'd make a good husband."

"Do you really think so?"

"Could be." She burrowed in further. "But that doesn't include the dancing. That would tip the balance. Every good marriage should include dancing."

"Funny, that wasn't on my list."

"It should be," she said.

"Indeed. I suppose this is an appropriate time to tell you my story, as best I understand it."

"Gee, who would know why you're doing what you do, except you?"

"I only know what I did and what I saw. The rest is what I have deduced, but I'm not always right."

I was amazed to learn that Karen had deduced the story herself without the benefit of the wealth of information I had to work with.

More accurately, she deduced the story from I story I told without guaranteeing my accuracy. We were a go.

There were a lot more things to talk about, but it didn't have to be that night.



-------

Chapter 6

It takes a lot of preparation and the right mindset to become a successful undercover operative. It turns out it can be child's play in comparison to carrying on a successful affair.

When you're undercover, everyone you would normally see or work with knows not to expect you. You're in that character almost all the time.

When you're having an affair, your wife expects to see you on some sort of regular basis. She will notice if you don't come home.

Neither will it escape the kids' notice. They're not going to say to mom, "Do you remember that guy who used to hang around here?" But they will notice. So, you can't do it.

You have to lead a double life without going cold turkey like you would if you were undercover. At least I didn't have the problem of telling the other woman - Karen - that sure, I'm going to tell my wife about us so that I can be with you, though oddly, that is what I would have preferred to do.

When I worked with Karen at the office, I had to be sure to keep the intensity out of my eyes, to adjust the level of familiarity in my body language.

I wasn't aware of anybody I worked with who had any kind of grudge against me. As far as I knew there was no reason any of them would want to hurt me.

But, as much as there is an intense excitement about being able to keep a secret, there is even more excitement in telling it to just one person who can appreciate the level of trustworthiness you show by limiting access to them.

It starts out with one person. But the pressure of not being able tell grows like a blister until it bursts and everyone knows.

Even if you could tell someone who can keep a secret, it's too much to ask.

Fortunately for us, my work experience had taught me most of the ways cheaters get caught. I didn't see myself as a cheater in the traditional sense, but, if the behavior fits, well.

Developing the course provided a lot of time I could account for to my wife, although I tried to do so in as little detail as I could get away with, both to provide myself with maximum flexibility as to how I spent my time and to avoid setting a precedent where there was an expectation that I account for it, though in other circumstances it would not have been unreasonable.

After we gave the course the first time, we spent a lot of time going over the comments and reviewing the quality of work of the participants after each course compared to before the course. It was a clear success; not big, but clear.

It takes time to integrate a new approach with what you've been used to doing. It became evident that the effect of the course increased as time went on so it became a regular part of our training.

The evaluation of the first set of employees to take the course took a lot of time and provided a lot of cover. It had been an expensive undertaking and I wouldn't have continued it just to help cover up an affair. We had to read every report from every operative who took the course and enough of their reports prior to the course to provide a basis for comparison.

The time we spent together, much of it at her place, was not entirely filled with work. It was during one of these sessions that our relationship became physical as well as emotional. Karen considered it a vindication of her views about sex.

"That was, well, I don't know what adjective to use to describe it. I don't want to wear the words out with comparisons. Whew. I knew it. We didn't do anything I haven't done before, but it was soooo much better. And don't you dare. I know you."

She deepened her voice to mimic a man, me. "Are you saying I'm unimaginative? Anybody could have done this?"

It was a pretty funny impression, not accurate, but funny, and she had me laughing. Funny thing is, that's probably how I would have started.

She brushed the back of her hand across my cheek.

"There wasn't anything especially different or any startling new technique. But the experience was amazing. It was with you, and I love you, and that was the difference."

She just lay there and beamed.

In a display of maturity and self confidence, Karen never asked the ubiquitous questions that followed such first encounters. How was it? Was it better than your wife? She had enjoyed it and that was enough.

If I had found the experience lacking in any regard, she assumed I would have had the maturity to tell her what would have made it better for me. She was an amazing woman and I was a lucky man to be involved with her. That's how you're supposed to feel.

Near the end of our evaluation of the first group, as we recognized they were continually improving, she told me what I could do to make it better for her.

We had put down the paperwork and she caressed my cheek with her palm as in a prelude to a kiss.

"I want to make a baby with you. I take it from that silly smile you agree?"

I picked her up, carried her into the bedroom and put her down on the bed.

"I stopped the pills. I have a coupon for a condom in case you disagreed."

"A coupon?"

"I was pretty confident. I didn't want to use up the coupon if I didn't need it."

"Confidence is very attractive."

"Would you say that if I weren't confident?"

"I love the way you banter."

"Is there anything else you love?"

"Obviously, a smartass."

"One more thing," she said in a completely serious tone, "you really should make sure I have an orgasm this time. I've read it's very helpful in getting pregnant."

"Alright," I said, with apparent reluctance. "Just this once."

I had read the same myself, so driven by the efficacy of facilitating an orgasm for her, I applied myself assiduously.

Yeah, she didn't believe it either.



-------

Chapter 7

It didn't happen that night. Of course there was no way to know that immediately, so we just carried on as if we were doing it to have fun.

Around a month and a half later, I arrived with more paperwork to review. Actually, it wasn't paperwork. Everything was electronic with appropriate security and encryption. What do you call it? "digiwork?" Not really the point, I guess.

When she opened the door, Karen looked different. She was relaxed, but then she was always relaxed with me. She seemed very happy, but then she always did in our personal moments.

I could tell. I broke into a big smile and she knew.

A man who focuses on his woman's pleasure usually reaps big rewards. I could certainly score points by doing the accepted thing here - waiting for her to tell me.

But she already knew that I knew. If I said it, that would show how well I had learned my lessons about reading people. What better compliment could I give her?

All right, the truth is that we had been one upping each other with our insights and I didn't want to give up the opportunity.

"When did you find out?"

"This morning."

"Home test?"

"A couple days ago."

"That's fantastic." I moved forward to take her in my arms.

"You bastard. You just couldn't resist, could you?" She said it with a smile.

"No, I couldn't. And I hope to be not resisting for a very long time."

"You're happy, aren't you?"

"That's rhetorical, isn't it?"

She leaned back, looked at my face and nodded.

"You're happy."

It's hard to keep happy off your face. I realized that because of the number of times I heard, "Randy, you look so happy. What's going on?" over the next few months.

I worked up a standard answer. "Life is good. Business is good. I'm healthy. What's not to be happy about?"

And, for the most part, it was true. Being happy also made me realize I had not been entirely happy; I had been portraying it. My performance was so convincing, it convinced me.

I knew I had been happy except for the black cloud following me around. I just had not recognized the enormity of its dimensions.

I spent time with Karen when I could. It was quality time; it wasn't rushed; it wasn't furtive. We talked. We laughed. And we created orgasms, just in case the baby needed them to grow, or perhaps because it was a lot of fun. I'm a little hazy on what we were thinking at the time.

I also spent an appropriate amount of time with my family. The thing I hadn't figured on when I was planning all this was that I didn't get any time to myself. I'm sure it added to my level of stress.

Karen's place was roomy enough for the two of us and a baby, perhaps two. We didn't have the pressure of finding and purchasing a place to live during the time I spent with her.

And we agreed completely on accommodating my decorating needs as well as hers: she had carte blanche. I didn't care if she chose to accent the décor with suits of armor or paintings of those poker-playing dogs.

As we enjoyed our time together, I began to realize I had not thought out the situation as thoroughly as I had believed.

We had no friends. There were no joint friends - that would have required them knowing us as a couple and we didn't spend enough time away from her place for that to happen.

She couldn't introduce me to work colleagues. Who was I?

If I used an alias, eventually someone would recognize me, I wasn't totally unknown, and then would begin the slow, tortuous process of the news wending its way back to my wife.

If I used my name, how would she characterize the relationship? "This is my married lover Randy."

I couldn't exactly introduce her to my friends and ask them to keep it quiet. Well, I could, I just couldn't expect them to actually do it. There is a pressure to knowing a secret you are not supposed to tell. The more people who knew it, the more inexorable it would be that one of them would be unable to withstand the need to share it.

Perhaps she could tell her very best friends. They didn't know my wife. They would be sufficiently invested in the happiness of their friend that they would never consider revealing her secret.

But if they had spouses, the need for secrecy for the men would be second hand. Was that it?

The only friends we had who could know about us would be her single friends? How would we explain to our kids why mommy and daddy have no friends? This would have been much easier had we been living even one state away. There would be more travel, but less jeopardy.

It would have been lovely to have been able to share our happiness at being together. And we were very happy.

We continued to dance together and the feeling of her in my arms was something we both relished. It was exquisite foreplay as well as being a complete experience in itself.

The sex and the love-making, they're not really the same thing, were wonderful, running the gamut from hot and urgent to sweet and tender to an altered state of consciousness.

But what I enjoyed most was talking with her. She was extremely well read and pretty much any topic could lead to an intensely stimulating exchange. The best thing about it was that I could share my feelings and fears in an unguarded way as once I had with Betty.

And we had that excitement and intensity that comes with relatively new relationships. We felt confident the rest of the things that drew us to each other would form the unbreakable glue that would bind us together after the intensity subsided.

I had the experience with Betty to convince me that was possible despite how we had wound up. Karen had the naiveté and lack of experience to convince her that was no other outcome possible.

I thought of her when she wasn't there. It was difficult to keep happy out of my demeanor. Happy was what led to conflagration that would change everything.



-------

Chapter 8

Karen was five months along.

I find pregnant women intensely appealing. They give off a feeling of hope and possibility and renewal. They confirm the elegance of nature. Tell me I'm with my pregnant woman, and I need none of the other elements which ordinarily make a situation erotic.

We were walking back to her house one afternoon. I stopped near the corner and turned to her to rub her belly. Her condition was unmistakable. She made a satisfied sound that came from deep within her throat. So did I.

"That's so nice. Did you ever do that with Betty?"

"With the first one. With the second, I had to do it sometimes because she would have been suspicious had I not."

I took her hand and we rounded the corner and walked toward her place - our place. I heard a car door close but didn't pay it much attention.

And then, from a taunting voice moving towards the sidewalk from the street, "Isn't this the picture of domesticity? You're such a pathetic loser cuckold. You go out and cheat on me and your girlfriend gets knocked up by some other guy."

I had a quizzical look on my face.

She continued, "Oh, you didn't know? Go on, tramp, tell him."

I thought to squeeze Karen's hand to keep her from getting involved in the conversation, but I realized she probably knew as well as I how to handle herself.

"And how would you know that, Betty?"

"Because your sperm count is too low to make anybody pregnant."

This time my look was surprised.

"And how would you know that?"

"I had it done at a clinic."

"What did you do, jerk yourself off to wind up with a sample?"

"Oh, you think you're so clever. Do you remember all the special treatment I gave you when you were sick? I gave you that special hand job? I was so loving and understanding.

"Remember how I went into the bathroom to wash it off? Straight into a specimen cup.

"And then I had to rush downstairs to get a cold drink from the fridge. To keep it cool and fresh.

"And then I remembered oh my, I have a doctor's appointment. I didn't lie. It was with a lab for testing. He didn't even have to take off a sock to count the number of live sperm."

Taunting. Mocking. Getting louder by the minute.

A small crowd was gathering. She had been loud enough to draw them in.

I realized her mistake. But this didn't seem like the right time to tell her. I went into actor mode. I seemed shocked, stunned, disbelieving, confused.

"But the kids. How, the kids." Dazed.

"You are so pathetic. You knew how much I wanted kids. I found someone to take care of it, for each of our children."

The "our" was the most mocking of all.

"You were laughable. All those efforts. All that time. I even laid with my legs elevated afterwards to sell how hard I was trying to get us pregnant. And here you are, raising three children of two other men. And now your girlfriend does the same thing to you. Just pathetic."

"God, you must have really hated me. What did I do to make you hate me so?"

"Hate you? I loved you with all my heart. I loved you more than anything. You were the most important thing in the world to me."

"You have a funny way of showing that, Betty. And you have a strange way of counting.

"As I see it, under the most optimistic view, I'm no better than fifth place.

"You, of course, were first. What Betty wants, Betty gets. You didn't even talk it over with me. Betty's needs are first.

"And what about Harry? Would you have not had him if we had talked and I objected? Of course not. Would you have agreed to stop with him? No Nancy? And what about Justin?

"I know, you think it's not the same thing. They're your children. I'm just your husband. When they left to make their own lives, what would that leave you? Your pathetic loser, cuckold husband. Your fifth choice. Unless, well I noticed the three of them have only two fathers so maybe I'm actually only your sixth choice."

"A mother is supposed to love her children," she shouted.

"There weren't any children when you decided you needed to move me down to third. Each one was a choice over me."

My voice was calm. But that didn't ease her agitation.

"You didn't know that. You just started to treat me worse for no reason."

"He knew," Karen interrupted. "Never once did he use the word 'my' or 'our' when referring to your children. Can you even remember the last time you heard him say 'our' about them? I was pretty sure of what you'd done the night I met him."

Betty flushed and postured.

I didn't give her a chance to jump in.

"Not only have I known, but your behavior has changed steadily since then. I knew what you had done; I just had no idea why. Now I know. I've got to say I'm disappointed."

"Disappointed," said Betty. "You are so pathetic."

"Disappointed by your lack of intelligence.

"I'm disgusted by your behavior, morality and the way you let your belief that I couldn't give you children destroy your love for me, if it ever existed."

"I loved you completely."

"After Harry, your attitude changed. I could tell you thought you had something over me, I just didn't know what it was. Maybe you were hiding money in a separate account. Maybe you were spending beyond your budget. I didn't know. I just knew you had a secret that put you one up on me and it led you to treat me as less than equal.

"But that changed. Little by little I became less important. Now I know it's because you didn't let me give you children."

"You can't!"

"I'll get to that, Betty.

"At some point you started cutting me off at seemingly random intervals. But I worked out that it seemed to be around the middle of your cycle. I got suspicious, well, more than suspicious. I was sure.

"You know how I collect and work with evidence. I didn't have enough to convict you in front of a jury, but I was the jury and I had no doubt at all.

"The clues were unmistakable so I decided to take some time to develop conclusive evidence. It wouldn't take much time if you were trying to pawn off someone else's baby on me because you had a limited time window.

"I didn't catch you until around 1:00 of the first day I followed you.

"Didn't you have any idea what I did for a living? You did know I had worked for the FBI. Did you forget? Do you remember what I was so sick with?"

Betty just glared at me.

"Radiation poisoning," I continued. "Among the effects are destruction of sperm and disruption of the ability to make them. If you live, it's usually temporary. Not always, but usually. I knew that.

"That's why I went for a sperm count after an appropriate period of time. You were already pregnant and I wanted to be sure we weren't just lucky.

"There would have been no point in going when you did your 'scientific' test. If you had waited three to six months, we could have had our own kids. But you were too smart and too determined to even need to know what was going on when you made your decision. It didn't even occur to you that it might be our decision.

"This one," I rubbed Karen's belly, "is mine. I trust Karen. I used to trust you so maybe that does make me a little bit pathetic."

Betty had exceeded the limit of her abilities to remain silent, I think, due to the shock of discovering the truth of the situation. That didn't stop her from remaining on the attack.

"You are pathetic. You knew what I was doing and you didn't do anything to stop it. A real man would have stepped up."

"I caught you just after you'd made Nancy. The damage was already irreparable at Harry. One, three, what's the difference? Treachery is treachery. It was way beyond betrayal. You didn't just cheat.

"Your attitude got worse with each one. What started as I've got one up on you evolved into contempt.

"When you told me you were pregnant with Nancy, after expressing appropriate joy, I told you that was it. No more kids. We had that big fight and you agreed.

"And then you sprung Justin on me with, 'I decided I needed to have one more.'

"What more quintessential expression of contempt than, 'I decided?'

"I couldn't understand why you got so passionate that I shouldn't have a vasectomy, that you'd have your tubes tied after he was born and have the doctor confirm it. Now I do. You were afraid that when they took the before count, I would discover the kids couldn't be mine."

Her immediate flush told me I had that right.

"Why don't we take this inside?"

Karen was indicating to look around us with her eyes. We'd drawn a decent-sized audience to our reality show.

When we were inside, Karen reinforced her comment from earlier. "Did you notice how he's still saying the kids? It's a subconscious expression of his understanding and attitude."

"So why didn't you do anything about it?" Betty asked, less belligerent but still contemptuous.

"By then I loved Harry. He wasn't my son, but I was his father.

"Money wasn't an issue. I could afford to support all of you by court order or by living there. The issue was the harm it would do to him, them now, to find out Daddy isn't your daddy. Mommy decided to sneak around to find somebody else to be your daddy for whatever iniquitous reasons she had.

"Eventually that would have been their conclusion when the other kids got done taunting them at school. So I decided to stay and hide my disgust for you."

Betty laughed. "Gee, you were pretty hot for me for being disgusted."

"I'm a hell of an actor, aren't I? I knew you would expect it now and then. I had to prepare for it. I had to put myself in a frame of mind that you were somebody else. I had to build a fantasy that made it possible to become aroused when you were as appealing to me as raw sewage."

Even Karen winced at that.

"Sometimes I had to resort to drugs to be able to stomach you."

"How do you really feel?" asked Betty.

I'm sure she had noticed me backing off from her, but I don't think she had any idea of the depth of my feelings for her. She was too surprised at the moment to launch into any further taunting.

Karen put her arm through mine and leaned against me.

"So I developed this brilliant plan to have a separate life of my own, with a family that was really mine. Perhaps there were a couple of things I didn't plan for. How did you find out?"

"You were happy.

"You hadn't been for long time. I wasn't really aware of it until I saw you happy. There was such a clear difference that I knew you were doing something and I started to follow you."

"I didn't see you."

"I read your training manuals. I borrowed cars so you wouldn't notice a pattern. I kept it to short time spans so, if you noticed, you would also notice that the car didn't keep following you."

She sounded so proud of herself.

"And you were so happy, you weren't paying complete attention. I learned a lot."

There was a very loud silence. Her tone changed.

"God, I really fucked up, didn't I? I loved you so much. I see you averting your eyes. It doesn't matter if it's true does it?

"I guess the only one who could possibly believe me is me. And even I have reasons for wanting to fool myself. I don't suppose," she glanced at Karen and laughed. "Silly thought."

"I guess we have to figure out what we're going to do. My plan certainly didn't work out. I, can't continue living with you. I don't mean to be nasty, but the idea of staying with you makes my skin crawl."

"What the hell would be the nasty way to say that?" Betty asked.

"I think you two should go for marital counseling," said Karen.

We both looked at her as if she had said Soylent Green is people.

"You have to work out custody, visitation and finances, and you need to do it with 'how does it affect the kids' as the most important factor."

She looked at Betty.

"You've spent over half your married life thinking of him as a pathetic loser."

She looked at me.

"And you've reached the point where just the idea of sharing a house with her makes your skin crawl. That's not a good basis for working together in the best interest of the kids."

I nodded.

Betty nodded.

After some awkward silence, she turned and headed for the door.

As she opened it, she turned back toward me. "I'm sorry."

She left.

Karen turned to me, put her hands behind my head and drew it to her chest. It was comforting, as she had intended.

For once, I did not take the opportunity to speculate. Perhaps later I would reflect on why it was comforting to find your head on a woman's chest.

I realized later that day that I had not been completely honest with Karen. It had not been intentional, but once I became aware of it I had to set it right, particularly because it related to our situation.

"Karen, we need to get a bigger house. With the three kids, I assume, coming over for visitation, and one and counting of our own, we're going to need a much bigger place. I'm thinking at least six bedrooms, preferably seven."

"That's huge. Do you have any idea what something that size would cost?"

"I think I do."

"I don't know what you think I make. I know I told you I make more than most guys, even guys doing pretty well, but I can't see how we could make the mortgage on a place that expensive."

"Uh, that's not all. I want to be near center city. We both work there and I can't see adding a timely commute to our day."

"Randy, that's just way beyond our means."

"I think you may have underestimated how well I do. I'm afraid I think so because I intentionally mislead you."

Karen did not look like a happy camper. It was time for damage control.

"In the beginning, I had no idea who you were and it was my standard practice not to give off any signs of wealth. Wealth is appealing enough to attract women who would otherwise have no interest in me. It could even attract women able to figure out how to act like the woman I was looking for so they could get their hands on some of my money."

I saw her eyes start to fill. It devastated me.

"It was obvious from the first night that you weren't like that. But that thing you did where you told me about myself after reading all that information about me had me so shocked I didn't know what to say.

"Besides, even if it had occurred to me at the time, what was I going to say? 'Hey, by the way, I fooled you. I'm loaded.'

"That wouldn't have seemed very funny. And after that, I never even thought about it. I was just thinking about the relationship, about you. I mean, you were such a prize, who cares about money?

"I know we talked about money some, that night I cooked here. But, everything I said about it was how I feel, and, again, it didn't seem like an appropriate time to interject that I was doing really well. I did have a brief thought that I would have to remember to bring it up. But, honestly, compared to everything else I was learning and feeling it seemed trivial.

"I didn't mean to make it a big thing. I hope it's obvious I had no agenda. I was thrilled to make a baby with you. You can't imagine I would do that, let alone consider it, if I had the slightest doubt about you."

She seemed to regain a little control at that so I decided to go for the big finish with some humor. Alright, I confess, I was unable to resist.

"Honey, you know everything I have is yours. And Betty's."

She tried to look stern. She tried to hold back a laugh, but it was too big to stop. It burst from her mouth. In fact, it burst from her mouth with such force that she spit all over my face.

Now I joined in laughing and soon we were rolling on the floor with as little control over our laughter as if we had been playing Ha Ha.

When we regained control of ourselves I took Karen in my arms and she buried her head against my chest. Her body relaxed. All tension left her.

Finally, she sat up.

"So how much do you make, and how much do you have?" she asked.

I took a piece of paper and a pencil and wrote a figure on it. I passed it to her, acting like a character in a movie responding to, "So, what's it going to take to get this done?"

Before she even looked at the paper, out came another spit laugh, though not nearly as juicy as the last one.

She smacked me on the arm and said, "You're really lucky I love you so much."

"That's the God's honest truth. And don't you let me forget it."

She looked ready to cry again, but this wasn't the bad kind or we wouldn't have had that long, soft, happy-to-be-here-with-you kiss.



-------

Chapter 9

In the beginning, I'm not sure we needed a marriage counselor so much as a referee to break us apart in the clinches. We had so much anger there wasn't room for much else.

By the third session we were able to listen without attacking, though the anger bubbled just below the surface.

Andrea played a short film for us about nothing that had to do with us or our relationship. Then she gave us each a pad and pencil and asked us to write down ten facts about what we'd seen in the film.

It was easier for me. I was trained. When we finished, I read my list.

"That's amazing," said Andrea. "I've never seen anyone do that so well. Your first six were facts, then a conclusion citing the facts, two more facts and a final conclusion. Let's see what you have, Betty."

Somewhere in the middle Betty stumbled onto a fact, an observation of what we had seen. As we went over her list, Andrea explained.

"Most of what you wrote was an interpretation of what you saw based not only on the facts, but on your view of how things work in the world. To put it in terms of the experience in your marriage, you noticed you weren't getting pregnant and concluded something was wrong. When you checked it out, it had to be Randy.

"There didn't have to be anything wrong, that's an interpretation of the fact of not getting pregnant. Then you may have concluded that since everything you were thinking about this was facts, Randy not noticing and not doing something about it showed he didn't care.

"That's an interpretation based on an interpretation based on an interpretation. You can see how easy it is to get to the wrong conclusion when you're doing that. And the further you went, the more interpretations and assumptions you piled on, the easier it became for you to get to the ultimate 'fact': that Randy was a pathetic loser."

Betty groaned. "God, it's painful to hear that phrase. If anything, it describes how I was treating him."

"You did some of that too, Randy. You saw confusing, suspicious behavior and chose to interpret it as this is the same wife I married; it doesn't mean a thing; she's just under stress.

"Had you been able to look at the facts of her behavior, you might have been able to ask yourself: do we have a problem."

I sat up to start to defend myself, but she continued.

"I know, Randy. When you got less ambiguous facts, you recognized them, analyzed them and came up with a plan."

"A pretty stupid plan," I said.

"It does seem to have had its flaws."

That was a tension breaker.

"I think it would be useful if you both went home and considered how your understanding of what we talked about affects how you feel about each other."

"Do you want to kiss and make up, honey?" asked Betty, with a smile, fluttering her lashes.

As I said, the anger had eased, but not that much. I'd rather die, I thought.

But I said, "I don't think I'm ready for that," with flat affect.

I had enough anger left that I couldn't acknowledge the humor in something that was objectively amusing.

We didn't part friends, but I didn't want to rip out her jugular at the moment.

I reported on the session to Karen.

She asked, "Do you think you two will wind up together?"

Everyone's a damn comedian.



-------

Chapter 10


Betty realized the inevitability of a divorce from the day she confronted us in front of Karen's house. A no-fault with both parties agreeing required a waiting period of ninety days, so four to five months was the fastest it could be accomplished. If the defendant objected, the wait would be two years.

The sessions with Andrea were designed to help us deal with issues other than the fact of not being married. It was three weeks from the last session and Betty wanted to meet to discuss issues. She said she thought we didn't need Andrea any longer. We could always go back if she was wrong.

Betty had an agenda so she started off the session. "I've been seeing Andrea on my own since last time. I needed to understand more of how we, I, got here. You were right about a lot of things. I was selfish and immature. Even before any trouble started, we were in trouble. I loved you, in my way. But I saw our marriage as my marriage. I saw how I could get everything I had always wanted in life. I didn't stop to think what you would get out of it.

"A lot of the things we decided to do were things you agreed to do because I wanted them. Maybe I should fault you for not standing up to me more. But, it's hard to say you did the wrong thing by trying to make me happy. I guess if you had realized my demands might never stop, you would have said 'no' more often.

"I suppose it doesn't matter how much you think you love someone or how long you've been together. It's built out of a lot of things, but if you pound it enough, it just can't be sustained. Like you. If you still loved me deeply after all the shit I piled on you, I'd probably have no respect for you. Even if I showed complete contrition, you'd, I don't know, either have to feel you deserved to be treated badly or were completely unlovable except by me, or for some other pathological reason needed to be with me. It would be sick. Obviously, that's not the case. You've got Karen, who, I've got to admit, is nice.

"Anyway, I talked to a lawyer. He wasn't sure what would happen with the kids. Given that you just found out for sure they're not yours, he didn't know if you could deny paternity, but thought you might be able to. I could go after the real fathers for child support.

"He wasn't any more definite about alimony. I'm the one who chose to stay home. I have a degree and meaningful work experience. He didn't know how long I'd get alimony to help 'rehabilitate' myself. I've already started looking for work.

"He said I'd get somewhere in the vicinity of half of our property in Equitable Distribution. My efforts at home helped make it possible for you to be successful. In theory. I think, looking at all my efforts, you were a success in spite of me.

"Given all that's gone on, I don't want to sponge off of you. It's time I started being an adult and took some responsibility. Anyway, all I've worked out is my general attitude, I don't have detailed suggestions. But that's a pretty good contribution, isn't it?"

"It is. And at least, listening to you now, it makes me feel like I wasn't totally insane to marry you," I said.

"That's the sweetest thing you've said to me for a long time."

This time I was able to laugh. "I have given some thought to how we could work this out. I was ready to really slug it out. I didn't expect you to be so cooperative."

"How could you?"

"You're going to need a lawyer and he's going to advise against it, and I heard you acknowledge your role, but I would like to put a little penance in the split. I think this mess we're in was mostly your fault. And it was more difficult to build the business with all this other," I resisted the temptation to use a pejorative word here; she had been gracious in her acceptance of responsibility, "stuff. Property, 60 me, 40 you. As far as alimony, I'd rather make that a loan to be repaid. Otherwise, it would feel like I'm being made to pay for being victim. I'll cover whatever you need so you don't fall behind, but I want it repaid. I probably couldn't win this if we fought it out, but it just seems right to me."

"Yeah, from what my lawyer said, this wouldn't fly, but okay."

"One more financial item, I want you to pay for the divorce."

"Your lawyer too?" she asked.

"No. Just the costs."

"That's less than $300."

"I know."

"Symbolic?"

I nodded. "Support is the problem. I don't want to fight over the issue of paternity. It would suck for the kids. On the other hand, any agreement we come up with is meaningless to me if you decide to go to court to have the amount modified. As long as Pennsylvania sees them as my kids, I'm on the hook for limitless increases as my income goes up."

"I'll agree never to go to court."

"Given how far you've come, I don't want to say I don't trust you, but I don't trust you. And your agreement is meaningless anyway. The concept of the best interest of the kids overrules any agreement we would make." I took a deep breath and continued. "I haven't been able to come up with any solution that guarantees me protection without fighting over paternity. And even if I'm allowed to deny paternity and win, it might cost me all my rights regarding the children. I don't want to do that to them."

She looked me in the eyes. "I know you may not believe me. I probably wouldn't in your position. You were right. At best, you were fifth. But now I'm fourth. I want to do whatever is best for them. I'm the adult. That's supposed to be my job. I'll work with you on whatever you need for your protection as long as it doesn't hurt them."

"That brings up one final item. Somebody has to tell the kids I'm not their biological father."

She had been relaxed up until now. Suddenly, she had a look of panic.

"Not now," I said. "But they're going to need to know for medical reasons at some point. I think that's your responsibility."

"That sucks. The worst part is that I have no one to blame but me."

"They'll want to know if I know. And they'll want to know if I love them. I hope the answer to the first question will make the answer to the second question obvious. I'm sure they'll come ask me too."

"I'm..." She rocked her head from side to side. "Move on," she said, more to herself than me.

So I crafted probably the most bizarre, contradictory, agreement in the history of divorce. I denied biological paternity but asserted de facto paternity. Don't ask me. I think the most likely response of a court having to interpret this thing would be to beg us to go settle it on our own. She admitted that the children were not mine biologically, but agreed that I was the father de facto. Based on that, we agreed on joint custody. That way, at least if she went to court for an increase, my liability would be lowered. That was justified in the agreement by the de facto paternity which also gave me the right to pursue full custody if future circumstances warranted.

If we ever decided to fight out the agreement in court, the decision would become a standard part of the family law curriculum in every law school in the country, even in Louisiana.



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Chapter 11



In addition to being very good at reading people, Karen was an excellent therapist.

No, she didn't act as my therapist for anything in our relationship. That might have been unethical and certainly would have been a bad idea. But she did help me with my understanding of revenge.

The thought of carrying out some fiendish, painful revenge on the two live sperm donors was very satisfying as was the thought of making Betty pay.

"Suppose you could humiliate her thoroughly. Imagine a party with all her family and friends where you could play a video of her betrayal. You could somehow get the scenes of her lying to you. You could show her base, selfish behavior. You could recreate any part of the whole situation that would make them find her despicable.

"Imagine their treatment of her; her isolation; her constant reflection on how evil she's been and the pain it causes her."

"Okay, stop. You've gone too far." I shook my head. "The picture was feeling pretty good until you isolated her. I had friends, family. I couldn't talk about it, but I could do something. It sucked, but I wasn't completely powerless."

"Alright. Let's go back to where they are appalled by her behavior. How does that feel?"

"Pretty satisfying."

"Okay, now move on. Think about our life. How does that make you feel?"

I smiled and reached for her.

"Fantastic."

Karen pushed me away.

"Is our life that good because you've been able to punish her enough?"

Okay, this was not fun. My thoughts tumbled out.

"It's, got nothing to do with us. Having her, shit. I have you. It's, completely independent. If nothing happens to her, I still have you. I don't love her. I don't like her."

"Speak up. You're mumbling. I can't understand some of what you're saying."

"I'm thinking out loud. What difference does it make to me what happens to Betty? I mean, aside from how it affects the kids, if she's miserable, I'm blissful with you. And if she's happy, I'm still blissful with you."

I looked her in the eyes.

"What does it make me if some of my satisfaction with life and with you depends on screwing up her life?"

She took a good twenty seconds before speaking.

"I hope you aren't expecting an answer. I'm the therapist. We only ask questions. Leading questions perhaps, but questions nonetheless."

I thought for a while.

"I think it makes me someone I wouldn't be proud to be. Still, it feels wrong to just let her get away with all that."

"Has she gotten away with it? Has it cost her anything at all?"

I was still looking uneasy.

"So am I powerless? How can I just let stuff happen to me and feel like a, man?"

She gave me a very warm smile.

"My macho guy." Karen checked her watch. "So, how much time do you have before you have to make this decision?"

I laughed. "Point taken."

"By the way, are you still with her? Is there anything going on to change the state of your marriage and your relationship? Do you come home to her? Does she get to take you into her bed? Will you be comforting her when she is troubled? Is she going to have any of your children?"

"Rhetorical questions suck. Not only do you have answers to them, you have the right answers."

Karen did me the courtesy of not giving me a knowing smile.

"What about the guys?" she asked.

"They should be punished. But, all they did was take advantage of an opportunity, knowing what they were doing was wrong. It would be worse if they had pursued her.

"That still doesn't make it right or alright. If nothing happens to them, my life 'would still smell as sweet.'"

"Thanks, Juliet. So, do you have to do anything about them?"

"I still think so. I'd like to do something that makes them remember and regret participating. It doesn't have to be a grand gesture, but I would feel a sense of injustice if they just walked away."

"So think of something," she said.

"My God, you made a suggestion. Not exactly a concrete plan, but it's good to know that you aren't limited to asking questions. In this context," I was quick to add.

My appreciation of what I needed and how I would feel in the various circumstances allowed me to come to the accommodation with Betty with relative ease.

It also made it easy to get her cooperation in signing related documents I could take to the live sperm donors, though I didn't phrase it that way to her.

It was clear that she would have a lot of pain and regret without any further contribution from me.



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Chapter 12



"He says he's too busy to see you."

"That's not a problem. Tell him I'll be at his house tonight to discuss the matter with his wife whether he's there or not. Goodbye."

She relayed the message as I turned and walked toward the door.

"Wait! He didn't realize he had an appointment cancel. He can see you now."

I almost laughed. He didn't know how important to me it was to protect the kids.

Could I do a sufficient acting job to fool him? Hell, I had convinced Russian black marketeers that I was a terrorist desperate for some enriched uranium and I hid from Betty my knowledge of her treachery for all those years

He nodded toward a chair and I sat. Neither of us offered a hand.

"My soon to be ex-wife tells me you generously donated the sperm to create Harry. In fact, I have an affidavit from her to that effect with DNA results from Harry and me. All we need is yours to confirm it."

He sputtered. There wasn't much point in denying it so he waited for me to continue.

"I didn't bring an invitation to his birthday party for you and your wife, but I can get you one if you'd like. No?"

He didn't look well.

"What do you want?"

"First, an admission that you are his biological father, which nobody else will see if you agree to and follow the other terms."

He waited for the other terms.

"Second, notwithstanding that, you will never take any legal action to establish that paternity, seek visitation or custody or any say whatsoever in his life."

He smirked.

"I take it that is not a problem."

No response.

"Finally, you will make support payments to me, that will help you explain it away, but you won't deduct them. Support payments are taxable."

He was scowling.

"They will be calculated based on the support schedule in the Rules of Civil Procedure. They will continue until the latter of graduation from high school or Harry reaching eighteen."

He maintained the scowl. I was stone-faced.

"And what if I don't agree?"

I smiled.

"I'll contest paternity. I'll file naming you as the father. Betty will file for support. I'll file asking for reimbursement of past support based on fraud. I'll file a separate civil law suit for destroying my marriage."

He had that 'aha' look on his face.

"There is no longer an action for Alienation of Affections."

He said it as if he was announcing a Royal Flush.

"You knew she was married. It will be Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress. Also, marriage is a contract. I'll add Tortious Interference with Contract."

I said it as unemotionally as I would have told him I was going to blow my nose. I looked him straight in the eyes, challenging him to disbelieve me.

He didn't. He seemed to get smaller before my eyes.

"And if I agree?"

"I'll eat the back support."

"Nobody will know?"

"Nobody will know."

All the fight went out of him. He nodded.

"I just happen to have the agreement with me. Do you have a notary?"

The confrontation with the other donor was along similar lines. He squirmed like a fish trying to get off the hook, but was convinced by my steel hard eyes. The look was easy to accomplish. All I had to do was think about what he and Betty had done.



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Chapter 13



Cooperation between Betty and I continued without a hitch.

Each time I saw her, I could see a sadness in her eyes and it gave me a little satisfaction. It also gave me a little dissatisfaction with myself that I could enjoy her suffering.

But each time a strength and determination to recover from her self-made unhappiness also showed in her. It gave me a little satisfaction that I was happy to see her on the path to recovery. It also gave me a little dissatisfaction that I could have any empathy with her situation. Basically, the whole thing generated a lot of ambivalence.

But that's how life is, isn't it? So little is clear and the consequence of actions taken or not taken are rarely what we expect. All you can do is the best you can.

Karen was getting pretty close and was not as spry as she had been. Our sex life was completely devoid of acrobatics. But then, acrobatics are overrated, especially for those of us who are not acrobats.

I answered the doorbell and Betty was there smiling broadly. I invited her in. The women exchanged greetings, though Karen didn't get up.

Betty lifted a piece of paper and shook it at us.

"I begged, wheedled and called in favors and got in to see our judge. He signed the decree. If you guys are still interested, you can get married now."

Alright, with this notice it wasn't going to be the big wedding that Karen, like almost every other girl, had dreamed of. We could do that later. But, it would be before our baby was born.

I know it's not that big a deal these days and we had agreed originally to have it long before we were married. But the announcement brought a smile to Karen's face.

"Let's do it," she said.

I went to the phone and called a judge I knew. I came in contact with lots of them in my work and even counted a few among my friends.

She was happy to be involved.

As we were discussing the date and time I heard Karen tell me, "Get off the damn phone!"

I turned and gave her a quizzical look.

Betty was helping her from her chair.

"Let's go have this baby" said Karen.

Lisa heard this over the phone and asked what hospital.

We drove in Betty's car. It was bigger than mine.

Lisa was waiting for us at admitting.

I recall some of the conversation, but I desperately wish I'd had a camera to catch it.

"Do you take this man as your lawful, wedded husband?" Lisa asked.

"Who is your carrier?" asked the nurse at the desk.

"Personal choice," I answered.

"I need an answer," said Lisa.

Karen hesitated. "Uh, just trying to recall the question. Yes, I do."

"Membership number?" requested the nurse.

"And do you take this woman as your lawful, wedded wife?"

"Do you need the group as well?" I asked.

"Just one wife, one husband is how this works," said Lisa.

"I need them both," said the nurse.

"I need an answer," said Lisa.

"Yes, I do. Which part is the group?"

"Does anyone know of any reason these two should not be wed?" asked Lisa.

"Yes," said the nurse. "I need this information and we have to get her up there right now or we're going to have a hell of a mess."

"Then ask your damn questions while she's on the way up. You," I pointed at the nurse, "not you." I pointed at Lisa.

"Does anybody else object?" I asked with not a little trace of annoyance in my voice.

Nobody did.

"Good, let's get this show on the road," I said.

The whole group moved with me as I wheeled Karen to the elevator.

"By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I now pronounce you man and wife."

"I'm sorry, sir, you can't go with her unless you're related. We have rules," said the nurse.



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Chapter 14



Karen was very close. This baby would not be spending much more time inside her.

"I thought I was going to piss myself I was laughing so hard when Randy asked Lisa to have that 'officious functionary' taken into custody for contempt of marriage.

"The look on the nurse's face when Lisa started with, 'Ma'am, I'm afraid I'm going to have to have you taken into custody.'

"All of the pain was gone for those few moments."

Karen was recounting the events leading up to Alexander's birth.

"And," she patted my hand, "he was so helpful, mom."

Did I detect a tone of condescension?

"He told me to take slow, deep breaths. And what did I tell you, Randy?"

"She told me I could demonstrate the process as soon as she punched me in the nuts."

My mother howled. She loved Karen and was delighted to be called 'mom.'

"But you're doing it now," I said.

"Sure, after taking all the yoga. And don't forget the epidural."

Things were quite a bit less hectic than with our first.

Karen's doctor told us it was time. I tilted my head questioningly.

"It's just a baby," Karen said. "We're not politically correct. Go with the family."

Earlier we had agreed it was entirely her call. I was happy to do whatever she preferred, and she knew it.

My mother and I headed to the waiting room.

My father was reading the paper. He glanced up. Mom shook her head and he went back to the paper.

Betty had Alexander in her lap. She had a wistful look on her face. Her three kids rushed up to grab me, each calling out, "Daddy."

Harry asked, "Did Mommy Two have her baby?" I saw Betty flinch.

"She's having it now," I told him.

'Mommy Two' developed quickly and naturally. The kids were at our house quite a bit. They discovered what I had: Karen's heart was a boundless wellspring of love that was fully available to them.

She was married to daddy.

"Mommy is Mommy," explained seven-year-old Nancy, "so Alexander's mommy is like a second mommy. So Mommy is Mommy One and Alexander's mommy is Mommy Two."

There was not a trace of doubt in her voice, there rarely was. She was just explaining the order of the universe to her Daddy.

As always, at the end of such an explanation, there was either the implied, or the actual, "Right, Daddy?"

And, as always, I gave the expected response of either, "That's right," or "Very good."

Hearing this name made Betty pretty upset in the beginning. She ripped into me later until I was able to explain its derivation. Hearing her children tell her how wonderful Karen was moved Betty to subconsciously compete for their affection. It was never in doubt, she was their mother, but both Betty and the children were the better for her extra effort.

The children loved their "half" brother Alexander and were excitedly looking forward to their new baby.

Less than an hour later a nurse came out to get me and I was able to tell the family that Melinda had arrived healthy.

Karen was drifting in and out of sleep.

She opened her eyes, smiled and said, "You have the look. It has nothing to do with the baby, does it?"

"Nothing at all."

I was consumed with love for this spectacular woman. I reveled in it. There was no happiness or success I did not want for her. I would do anything to assure that. That was the look. Fortunately for me, she too had the look.

We discussed the meaning of the look, when she discovered I had intervened, though she called it meddling, on her behalf with a member of her department. To say she was angry was to call a hurricane a zephyr.

Fool that she was, Karen told me everything. She was unhappy because her advancement was being blocked Harrison Cartwright.

I thought the name was synonymous with constipation. I could have sworn that he was constipated each time I met him at some function.

Karen told me about him because she wanted my love and support, which I gladly gave her.

But, I'm a guy. I see a problem, I want to fix the problem.

No, I didn't break in. Well, not to his house. His email was another matter. I may have had access to his computer as well. I asked questions, gathered information, and based on what I learned I followed him discretely on several occasions.

"You're Karen's husband, aren't you? Uh,"

"Randall," I said. "But my friends call me Randy."

"Randy," he said.

"Call me Randall." I didn't say it in a joking voice.

"You're Harrison Cartwright, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Funny, I heard something about a Harry Cartwright. But that couldn't be you. You're too formal to use Harry, aren't you?"

"Uh, yes."

He was starting to fidget and sweat. He was looking for a way to escape me.

"Yeah, this Harry guy, seems he's been having an affair with one of the young department secretaries. I didn't catch his department.

"Anyway, I hear the guy has a battle axe of a wife. She would rip him a new asshole if she ever found out."

Harrison coughed and sputtered and his face was turning red.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I should never have said that. I can see it upset you. I should have said anus instead of asshole."

I smiled at him. "Sorry," I said with all the sincerity I could obviously fake.

"Just imagine the shit that would hit the fan if his department found out. I'm sorry, there I go not thinking again. I should have said excrement."

There was panic in his eyes so I remained silent for a while to let him have the complete experience.

Finally I said, "But, I'm sure that will never happen. After all, who could possibly have a motive for revealing his secret? I'm sure he's a fair man.

"Oh, well, I guess I shouldn't engage in idle gossip. It's been nice chatting with you, but I've left my wife on her own for too long."

I reached out and firmly shook his clammy hand.

At twenty-nine Karen became a full professor. There was a party.

As we approached Harrison, there was a look of fear on his face and he practically ran to get away from us. It didn't take Karen long to figure it out.

"I'm going to get myself something to drink. Do you want anything?" I asked.

I turned to move to the bar but she didn't let go of my arm.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"Do?" I can fake confusion with the rest of them.

"That's just like lying. What did you do to him?"

"I may have -"

She cut me off. "May have?"

"I told him some information I stumbled across about a guy named Harry."

"Stumbled across?" She was getting increasingly agitated.

"Yes, I stumbled across it while trying to get other damaging information about him."

She made a little snort, trying to suppress a laugh. It helped me but she was still angry.

"I earned this professorship on my own. When you interfere like that, you take away a little of my accomplishment. When you give me something I could have achieved on my own, you cheat me out of the satisfaction of earning it myself."

"Cheat?"

"Wrong word. But you get the concept," she said.

"I just want so much for you. I want everything for you. And you had earned it. That asshole just blocked it because you're a woman."

"I would have gotten it eventually."

"I didn't want you to have to wait."

She put her hand over my heart. "I like your enthusiasm. I love your generous heart. I love you."

The sweet way she said it made me melt.

Then, suddenly, she sounded like a drill sergeant. "Don't do it again."

I nodded.

"If I want your help, I'm perfectly capable of asking."

"Okay," I answered.

"And don't be such a man."

"A big, strong man."

"Don't be such a big, strong man."

So we learned that no matter what the look meant you felt, there were constraints on what you should do.



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Chapter 15



People wandered into and through and out of the house. It was our first annual open-house birthday party.

Getting people to come to this one was easy: they wanted to see Jacob, just nine days old.

All three of our kids' birthdays fell in less than a three-week span. Given that we are homo sapiens, I discounted an annual cycle and chalked it up to chance. It was attended by relatives, neighbors and friends.

Alexander and Melinda each had their own parties with their own friends. He was five and had an idea who his friends were, but we still assisted three-year-old Melinda with picking hers.

They each requested, actually demanded big brother Harry the Babysitter, that was his full name as far as they were concerned, be in attendance.

Harry insisted on bringing along Nancy and Justin completely on his own - after I had a conversation with him about it.

Any party we held that included children included my other three kids and also Betty, under her official name, Harry's Mommy.

All five children loved each other and loved to be with each other. I give Karen a lot of the credit for that.

We were lucky they were the first to arrive. Alexander and Melinda were doing the home equivalent of, "Are we there yet?" They started right after breakfast with, "Are they here yet?" We must have heard that at least a hundred times in less than four hours. With their arrival came blessed relief.

Betty looked at us and a range of emotions played across her face like the views of a hologram seen from different angles. It wasn't difficult to read. I had seen them before. Looking at the five of us, a happy, if noisy, family seemed to bring her a unique kind of pain. She knew, but for her own actions, it could have been her in that portrait instead of Karen.

She had seen both Karen and me with the look. Betty said she would give anything to be the giver and recipient of the look. She had come to terms with her actions over these five years, but the look and the fulfillment Karen and I represented this day would pain her until the day she died.

She said it softly, but Karen and I could hear. "This could have been mine."

It was wistful and rueful. It reminded me of the exchange we had last time she brought Harry and his siblings over to baby sit.

"You've come a long way, Betty," Karen told her. "You've taken control of your life. I think you're ready to move on when you get the chance. We wish you the best."

Betty glanced questioningly at me.

"We," I confirmed.

"It's a shame it took me so long to grow up," Betty said. "I'm forty-one. I don't know how many right men are left to come along. There may have been a good supply when I was half this age. But a lot of them have been taken in the interim. Some had to face life and they're no longer the right men as a result.

"Randy could have been one of them with all I did to him."

Karen put her arms around me from behind and rested her chin on my shoulder.

"I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am to have this man. I don't mean anything by that, Betty."

"I know," Betty answered.

"I just can't believe how lucky I am to have him in my life." She tightened her arms a bit.

"There you go projecting again," I said.

"See?" said Karen.

"Yes," whispered Betty.

It was Betty's week, but she let the children stay after the party to be with their brothers, sister, Dad and Mommy Two.

We returned them at bedtime. I drove our Honda Odyssey.

I told Karen when we bought it, "I hate to be driving something this big. It feels emotionally almost like a recreational vehicle to me. I'm trading it in as soon as they come out with it in a hybrid."

So, all eight of us made the trip to Betty's house. Our three were asleep when we got there.

Karen and I took Harry, Nancy and Justin to the door.

Betty smiled as she welcomed the children in. Her eyes were moist, but not overflowing.

"It's like a Tim Burton version of A Christmas Carol, combined with Groundhog Day," she said. "I keep getting to see Christmas future and there's nothing I can do to change it."

"Are you okay, Mommy?" asked Nancy.

"I'm okay baby. I'm just happy to see Daddy so happy with his nice family."

"Our kids are pretty special, too, Betty," I said.

A tear wandered down her cheek.

Karen squeezed my hand. As we turned to head back to the Odyssey, she leaned against me and I put my arm around her.


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The End
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Posted:  2006-06-18
Last Modified: 2010-12-06 / 02:41:51 pm
Version: 1.10
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