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Subject: {ASS} RP: "Miriam" by The Star (MF, story, rom)
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From: "The Star" <extar@hotmail.com>


Miriam

A tale of romance from The Star


Lonely.

I couldn't believe how lonely I was. How alone I felt.
The only other time in my life I'd felt that way, I had let it lead me into the
biggest mistake of my life--my first wife!  So I set my jaw, wrestled my need
for people to a draw, and continued on.

I must confess, my heart wasn't in it. After all, what's the use in pulling off
a big business deal, or being chairman of a committee for a successful
community event, if there's no one to share the victory?

Surrounded by natural beauty, I couldn't enjoy it, alone.
And the nights . . . The nights were the worst!  More than once, I finally fell
into an alcoholic stupor, unable to find rest any other way. My pain was real
and enormous. For my wife--the love of my life--had left me.

A little vessel in her brain couldn't handle its designed pressure,
and killed her. One moment she was there, my Brenda, a warm fire at whose
hearth I warmed my spirit. The next, she was gone. My anger and despair were
enormous. My grief endless. 
And my loneliness was a bottomless chasm which I didn't know how to bridge.

Although I continued to work, my heart wasn't in it.
My daughter stepped up and did what she could for me. Her reward was that I
treated her like dirt. Bless her!  She still drove the three hours each way to
come see me every week, and later every month.
Her husband - a very nice guy, really - wasn't thrilled about being left with
the kids so much, but he understood. Kris had always been really close to me,
and could feel my hurt. She said she had to do whatever she could to help.

Three years after my wife's death, I was finally able to come to terms with it.
Kris saw the changes in me, and started hinting, strongly, that I needed to get
back into life. By that, she meant I needed to start dating, and find some
female companionship besides her. I just didn't know how somebody my age went
about it. It had been an awfully long time. . . .
"But Kris, there aren't any women around here as good looking as you. Why would
I settle for less?" I teased her.
"I know I'm the most gorgeous creature in this part of the state," she teased
back, though her words were true, "but Mike is getting a bit concerned about
you, and about the amount of time I'm taking away from him and the boys."

Actually, I was more healed than I had thought. Unconsciously, I'd been
checking out the 'available' ladies in our town - and wasn't impressed with the
crop. While we had an unusually high percentage of beautiful women for a small
town, the good ones were all married, or had something seriously wrong with
them, like a drug problem, or room temperature I.Q. The most interesting single
women in town were college girls - WAY too young for me.

In our banter, my bright daughter brought me to a process I should have
considered long before, if I'd been conscious of the need. Basically, after
hearing my litany of what was wrong with the available women in town, she asked
me what I wanted in a woman. And by teasing and refusing to leave it alone
until I'd thought it through, she led me through the initial stages of solving
any problem: Define the problem and identify solutions.

She made me list, over a period of a few months, all the characteristics I felt
were necessary in a woman I could be interested in. The end result was
fascinating. This 'Dream Woman' had to have these traits and characteristics:

* While it wasn't necessary for her to be as drop dead gorgeous as Kris, she
  had to be substantially above average to look at, both face and figure.
* She had to be of superior intelligence.
* She had to have class and be a lady.
* It would be nice if she had some talent, some areas of expertise.
* She had to be fun to be around, witty, energetic, a leader, yet not 'pushy.'
* She could not be 'whiny.'
* She had to be a woman of integrity.
* Yet she had to be free of prudish hangups.
* She had to be capable of loving deeply and forever.
* She had to be committed to an exclusive relationship.

By the time we'd gotten this far, Kris was impressed that I knew what I needed
so well. "Well, Honey, your mom was a disaster, as you know. And Brenda was the
love of my life. You're all I have left. Although you're my ideal woman in
appearance -beauty- we'd be a disaster as a couple, even if you weren't my
daughter and already happily married. I really love you for the time you've
given me. Even when I've been a total crab, I've enjoyed having you around.
And I love you more than anything. Thanks, Honey!"
"Thanks, Dad," Kris replied with tears in her eyes. "I love you too, and wish
I could do more for you. Being with you like this is a joy for me, because I'm
able to repay a bit of the love and care you've given me all my life. But I
know you need more. You need your own woman, as I've said time and again."
"Yes, Kris," I said in a resigned tone. She had indeed said this before.
"But how is a fifty-something guy like me going to find a superwoman like
we've described?  If such a woman exists in this town, she's been married for
years. Or she's way too young and would only cause more problems."
"Have you looked around at church, Dad?" Kris asked.
"Yes. I have. We have some remarkably attractive ladies--all married. And some
knockout high school and college girls, who are too young to even think about.
The only single ladies otherwise are either too militant feminist for
consideration or are widows older than I am. That's pretty much true of the
whole town. There are some knockout ladies, but they're disqualified on other
counts--age or marital status."
"Don't give up, Dad. Now that we know what we need to do, we can start working
on how to get from here to there.
"And Dad; remember what you taught me?  Don't forget to pray!"

The truth was, I didn't seriously consider finding another women at that point.
I could live with the loneliness. And the things I'd said about a shortage of
suitable ladies in our town were all true. If one came along, wonderful.
If not, I'd survive.

2

Kris, of course, had other ideas. If it weren't for Mike, I think she'd have
moved in with me - including into my bed - just to ease my pain and loneliness.
She knows I consider her to be the ideal girl, in terms of basic package.
And we love each other a lot.
But what she really had in mind, all along, was her college roommate and best
friend, Miriam.
She and Miriam had gone through a similar exercise. Miriam had endured a brief
but disastrous marriage with an ex-jock she'd met after she graduated from
college. When she finally kicked the bum out, she'd gone to Kris for a shoulder
to cry on. At one point in her grieving and healing process, Miriam had cried,
"All I want is to be married to a good man who will love me!  Why is that too
much to ask?"
>From that point, Kris led her through the process, like she had me do later,
of listing just what she wanted in a man, and what she couldn't tolerate.
Much later, Kris told me that the profile of Miriam's ideal man fit me like
a $3,000 suit. So Kris, being Kris, decided to see what she could do as a
matchmaker with her dad and her best friend--is that kinky or what?
I think, for Kris, it was the game as much as the idea of helping two people
she was so very close to.

Over the next few months, when Kris talked me into visiting them, Miriam
usually dropped by sometime during my visit. And twice, Kris brought her along
when she visited me. I treated her like another daughter, and respected her as
Kris' closest friend, after Mike.

Kris and I had both gone to Pac-10 schools. I was disappointed when she chose
not to follow me to Stanford, and went instead to Washington. She'd a great
time in college, though, and completed her degree successfully. So I couldn't
complain. And of course, we'd had some fun over the years about the relative
merits of our schools' football programs. She'd had more fun than I, <darn>
but it had been interesting.
So when Stanford was playing in Seattle, she insisted that I join them for the
game. Playing the role, I wore my letter jacket. (Yes, I can get into the
letter jacket. Just don't ask me to button it.)  When she and Mike swung by
to pick me up, I was surprised to see Miriam in the coach; but it wasn't a
big deal as, of course, she'd gone to Washington, too.
Our plan was to drive to Seattle on Friday, stay overnight, see the game
Saturday, then stay over another night and come home on Sunday.
Mike had a nice motorhome, and we'd planned to use it as our motel on wheels.
The addition of Miriam complicated arrangements, but didn't throw a stick in
the spokes. Kris just said we'd make up the dinette into a bed for Miriam,
I'd sleep in the bunk over the cockpit, and they would have their 'room' in
the back.

On the trip north, Miriam and I got better acquainted. I'd known her as Kris'
friend. But I began to appreciate why she was her best friend. While her face
wasn't that of a fashion model, she was more than just attractive. It kind of
grows on you until the realization strikes that she isn't pretty - she's
beautiful! Her slender but spectacular figure was set off by full, flowing dark
brown hair which moved saucily with her like a fringe.

She had an established career marketing music and musical instruments for a
national company:  She had outside sales for the Pacific Northwest, and did
quite well with it. Of course, she was an accomplished musician, though not
often a concert performer.
And I soon found that she was still as wacky and witty as she'd been in
college, though in a slightly more mature way.
I found myself drawn to this elfin girl, and was, without being aware of it,
doing and saying anything I could think of to keep her attention. (Kris and
Mike were sitting up front, smirking as they saw their plans starting to work.)

We made our way to the campground just as dusk fell. While Mike and I were
outside, hooking up the water, power and sewer, and leveling the rig, the girls
started dinner.
When we were done with the 'man's work', we each popped a beer and settled into
chairs to watch the ladies work. 
After our meal, I was ready to crash, but the others wanted to visit a
nightspot just across the road from the campground. Letting myself be persuaded
to go 'just for an hour or so', I went along.
The place, I found, wasn't just a saloon, but had a band and good sized dance
floor. It was also cleaner and more pleasant than I had expected from the
outside. Right after we got a table, and had ordered a round of drinks, Mike
and Kris hit the floor. Miriam waited until the next song, then when she saw
that I wasn't going to ask her, asked me if I would dance with her.

"Miriam," I said with a look of panic, "I don't know how to dance like this!
If they do any slow dancing, I'd be delighted."
"Nonsense!" she snorted. "Any idiot can do this. You just get out there and
move to the music. You don't even have to have a partner."
"But," I rejoined, "I always thought the idea was to get your hands on each
other, without getting slapped."
"That's what the slow dances are for," she laughed. And, grabbing my hand,
she yanked me to my feet and propelled me to the floor.
I just kind of shuffled and undulated to the beat. I was entranced. Miriam on
a dance floor is a spectacle. Guys all over the room were soon watching her,
and not paying much attention to their own partners. At the end of the song,
Miriam just looked at my face, and laughed. 
"Bill, you look like you ate a bug!" she said, giggling in her enchanting way.
Snapping out of it, I took her hand and said, "Don't think so, but I wouldn't
know if I had." Which set off more giggles.
The band went into a slow dance set then, and I took her into my arms.
This is the kind of dancing I know about. She moved like a professional dancer
and anticipated me perfectly. Slender, but with marvelous breasts, Miriam
seemed so light in my arms I almost couldn't tell she was there. If it were
not for the girl shape pressed against me, I'd have wondered what I was doing.
After a couple of minutes dancing like friends, she gave a little sigh, and
kind of relaxed against me, her mouth coming to rest below my right ear and the
rest of her just sort of pasted onto the front of me.
Naturally, this produced an almost instant reaction from the primary indicator
of my gender. I tried to pull away from her, in embarrassment, but Miriam would
have none of it. "Don't you dare back away!" she whispered, running a hand
behind my head and clutching me tight. "I'd have been checking out my equipment
if that hadn't happened. Please?  Hold me?"
Of course I was more than happy to, though our dancing turned to shuffling and
swaying to the music while my body started to learn the feel of the marvelous
shape pressed against it.
When the set ended, and the band resumed hip hop, we returned to our table.
Kris later told me we both had sappy, dreamy expressions on our faces.
A little more conversation, another slow dance set, and two hours had gone by.
We finished our drinks and left.

Getting ready for bed was 'interesting'. On the ride north, I had suggested
that maybe I should get a motel room, but Mike wouldn't hear of it.
"This expensive machine is supposed to sleep six, and there are only four of
us. With a little consideration for each other, we'll be fine."
The problem was that there was no privacy curtain between my bunk, which just
swung down, and the dinette where Miriam was to sleep. I got in bed while
Miriam was doing the same in the tiny bathroom. But to get to her bed, Miriam
had no way to avoid giving me quite a nice show of her short, semi-opaque
nightie. Spectacular!

Breakfast was preceded by another great show of spectacular bodies - Kris' as
well as Miriam's. Kris decided not to dress for the day until after we'd eaten,
and saw no need to change out of her nightie in front of her father, her
husband, and her college roommate who had all seen her in less many times.
Miriam changed while Kris was cooking, but not until Mike and I both had an
eyeful.
We all had a great time at the game - Stanford won for a change! - and of
course, I had to remind everyone - often - who won the day's game, which
finally led Kris to threaten to have me wear dinner rather than eat it. We had
rented a car to get to the game, and went out to dinner, followed by a visit to
the night club again. 
I can get used to dancing with Miriam!

During our ride home from Seattle, Miriam and I were again forced into a
'couple' by the configuration of Mike's coach. As we chatted, she brought up
the subject of her ex-husband, Greg. It seems that although they were only
together for a few months, and have been divorced for several years, he is
still obsessive about her. Even though her social life is pretty tame and
mostly limited to events with close friends like this weekend, he has
threatened her, found out about her infrequent dates and sometimes even
threatened the men who date her.
In spite of a restraining order, she has been forced to install elaborate
security systems in her apartment, and has called the police on more than one
occasion when he's been stalking her, or at her apartment door.
When I asked why she didn't just move away, she replied, "Because I don't want
to give him the satisfaction. I grew up in that town, and I won't let him run
me out!"  Then, with what I was coming to see as her irrepressible giggle,
"Besides, it is only a little hassle for me, but it's a lot of hassle for
him. Think:  He's eating himself up over nothing!"
I can't help but admire her spunk, and attitude, but the situation disturbed
me. This guy sounded dangerous to me. And Kris and her family were at risk,
too.
When we talked about work, she described what she did, and how she really
enjoyed traveling around the northwest. In fact, she would be in Portland most
of next week, so we arranged that I would meet her on Saturday, and we would
go out. She'd even get me a room in the Red Lion, so I wouldn't face a long
late night drive home. We exchanged business cards, and I got her cell phone
number, so we could tie up loose ends later.
By the time we arrived at my house, we had become friends in our own right,
and were both really looking forward to the next weekend. As I got off the
motorhome, Miriam gave me a little kiss, and thanked me for being such good
company. "Believe me, the pleasure is mine!" I assured her. Thanking Mike and
Kris, I waved them out of sight, and went into my home to see what I'd missed
while I'd been gone.

3

My house, which I'd built for Brenda, was a lovely home atop a ridge
overlooking the west valley and coast range of Oregon. Larger than we had
really needed, we'd loved the place, since it was a good house for entertaining
and had room for overnight guests. And the ground floor had space for a large
office suite for me.
With Brenda's death, entertaining had come to a halt. Other than my secretary,
and a housekeeper who came in one day a week, I seldom saw outsiders in my home
anymore. Besides Kris, of course. My work was done by phone and FAX, and visits
to customers' sites.
Friends and neighbors respected my grief, and seldom came by. And I'd withdrawn
from most of the church and civic activities I'd been in before.
So that Sunday afternoon, I entered a large, cold, empty house. My loneliness
hit me hard. After checking for messages in the office, I nuked a TV dinner,
poured a beer, and dressed for bed. I'd watch football on the bedroom tube,
and go to sleep.
That short weekend in good company, and little bit of warmth from Miriam made
my lonely existence harder to bear than ever.

During the week, I found myself working hard to catch up all the details on
clients' projects. When I caught myself doing it, I realized that I was
"clearing the deck" for the coming weekend, when I'd see Miriam again. I could
hardly believe it. I was acting like a high school kid, going on a date with
a cheerleader, or something. After all, we were just friends. She was my
daughter's best friend, after all. Come off it, Bill!
At any rate, on Thursday, Miriam called to say she was at the Hilton, downtown,
instead of the Red Lion. And she had reserved a room for me for Saturday night,
as we'd planned. We agreed that I'd come on in to town when I finished my other
chores on Saturday, and call or leave a message for her as soon as I was
checked in.
Friday, I worked myself and my secretary into the ground. Then I mowed some
grass, had dinner, a shower and to bed.

Saturday morning I woke rested and eager. 'Bill, you're a basket case. This is
a girl, you idiot!  Just barely older than jail bait.' I thought. 'You're
really making an ass of yourself, if you can't straighten yourself out.'
Didn't help.
Since Portland is only a couple of hours away, and I didn't want to arrive too
early, I fixed myself breakfast, cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen; then
another shower and a shave, pack a small bag for overnight, and away I went.
I still got there well before lunch. Idiot!

When I checked into the hotel, I was surprised to find that I was already
checked in, and prepaid. By now I was starting to get a bit confused. Then, in
the room, I found a sheet of paper on the bed. The note on it said,

Welcome. 
I'm so very glad you could come. 
Please knock on the door to your left, 
when you've put up your bags. 
Miriam.

Glancing to my left, I saw a connecting door to the room next to mine. So I put
my bag on the stand, my coat in the closet, and ran a comb through my hair.
Stepping to the door, I knocked. Miriam opened it immediately, and followed
with a big hug. I was really getting confused. I couldn't tell if the signals
I was getting were from Miriam, or my libido.
I hadn't expected adjoining rooms. And I hadn't expected Miriam to even be
around until sometime in the late afternoon. Instead, she seemed to have
plotted in advance to have me next to her, and was awaiting my arrival,
whenever that might be.
Why?

I mean, I was flattered, but this girl is almost 25 years younger than I am.
I'm not a business associate or potential customer. Why so much attention for
a simple evening out with a friend?
Meanwhile, she was saying, "I'm so glad you came early. I hoped you would.
Do you have anything you have to do today?  Or can we spend the whole day
together?"
With a bemused look on my face--and I guess in my voice, I said, "Oh, I'm at
your disposal today. I didn't expect to see you until late afternoon, but if
you're free, of course I'd like to spend the day with you."  
And what man wouldn't?  While she wasn't dressed in 'business clothes,' she
wasn't into the 'college girl' look of the prior weekend, either. Rather, she
was a classy lady--relaxed and informal--but classy.
After a moment when we each just looked at the other, and decided we were
content to be with each other, we simultaneously asked, "What would you like
to do?", then burst into laughter. Or that delightful giggle, in Miriam's case.

Miriam truly didn't have any preferences. So I said I'd like to look at boats -
or yachts. Brenda had hated the water, so we'd never had a boat. I wasn't sure
I really wanted one, but thought it might be fun to look. Miriam enjoyed
water--swimming and water skiing--and thought looking at boats would be fun.
So we did. Since it was a lovely Saturday in the fall, a lot of boat people
were out on the water. They are an interesting lot. We chatted non-stop about
boats and 'land yachts', as I call the bigger motorhomes. About her business
and mine. About what she enjoys, and what I like.
Just light, 'get acquainted' stuff.
For the evening, I'd made a reservation at one of my favorite restaurants.
It's gone now, but it had an unusual atmosphere, and great food. The owner was
the son of one of my college classmates, so I was always treated well there.
This night was no exception, and we both had steak and scampi, prepared to
perfection. The food was great, the conversation sparkled, and the company was
outstanding. I hadn't had so much fun in years.

When we left, I asked Miriam what she wanted to do next. She wanted to dance,
so we made our way to her favorite nightclub. The place was packed, but she
knew the maitre-d, and got us a tiny table near the dance floor.
Once again, I found myself attempting modern dancing with Miriam. I think I was
the oldest guy in the place. But I was having fun. Watching Miriam dance is
always fun. Being her partner is even more fun. She looked at me with a
mock-concerned expression. "Poor baby. All of this bouncing must be hard on
you. Cheer up. They play slow dances here, too."
I wasn't unhappy, but that made me more cheerful. Sure enough, the next set was
slow, and I once again held this marvelous woman in my arms.
This time, she just came right up against me, with both arms around my neck,
leaving me to put both arms around her. WOW!!! I was the envy of every guy in
the joint. In the back of my head a tiny voice was saying, 'Why me? Why is she
doing this?'  But the rest of me was just enjoying the moment.
When the first song in the set ended, I turned to look at her face, and found
her eyes about two inches from mine. What else could I do? I kissed her--
softly, gently, without passion but with more than friendship--discovery, maybe?
When the music resumed, her mouth returned to its place below my ear, and her
body was even more relaxed against mine.

We danced and talked for another couple of hours. When we'd both had enough of
the club, we returned, happy, to the Hilton. Going up in the elevator, Miriam
said, "I'm having such a good time, I really don't want this to end. Would you
join me for a nightcap?"
"Sure," I answered. "Do you want to go to the bar?"
"No. I have a bottle in my room. Give me five minutes, then knock on the door?"

Things were moving awfully fast, yet I didn't know just what she was offering.
So I decided to take it as it came. This was not a passive thing. I really
enjoyed this woman, and wanted very much to develop a relationship with her.
She was, after all, Kris' best and closest friend, which, in itself, was as
high a recommendation as anyone could have. She wasn't playing games with me.
I could be sure of that. And I could be sure that I wouldn't play games with
her--for Kris' sake as well as hers. So I'd give positive responses to any
signals, and hope for the best.
I spent the five minutes washing my face, hanging up my jacket and tie, and
changing shoes for loafers. About the time I figured five minutes were up,
there was a knock on the door. When I opened it, Miriam gave me a big grin and
giggled that she didn't want me to be late. As if a minute mattered.
She'd shed the really cute cocktail dress she'd been wearing, let her hair
down, and was in a nice dressing gown. Opaque, but definitely not street wear.
Seating me on the sofa in her room, she said, "I'm having white wine. But
there's whisky if you'd prefer?"
"Wine will be great."  It was just an excuse to spend more time with her,
anyway, and I didn't want to get blasted.
Giving me a glass, she put hers on the coffee table, and sat beside me. I could
see she had shed her nylons, too. Is this a seduction, or is she just that
comfortable with me?
As if reading my mind, Miriam snuggled up to me, causing my arm to go around
her automatically. Looking me in the eyes, she said, "Bill, I know I'm coming
on to you pretty strong. I like you a lot. And I think this may turn into a
serious relationship. - What a crappy term: 'serious relationship.' This is
already serious! - I'm very attracted to you. So at this point, the choice is
yours. We can drink our wine and chat a bit before you go back through that
door to sleep. Or you can kiss me, and we'll see where it goes from there."

Running through my mind at warpspeed was the thought that the constraints on
her because of her relationship with Kris were equally valid on me. She was my
only child's best friend. And that not only made her a lot younger than I am,
but if I messed it up too bad, I might mess up my relationship with Kris, too.
I'm not into casual sex. She needed to know that, because if she just wanted to
get laid, I was not her guy.
"Miriam, I'm impressed and immensely flattered. You need to know something
though:  I'm not interested in a one-night affair. If we start something,
I will want it to continue. And I have trouble picturing you being really
interested in an on-going thing with a guy as old as I am-- So where does that
leave us?" I asked.
Her reply, breathed into my mouth was, "Right where I hoped. Here. In each
other's arms."  And my mouth was attacked with the most passionate kiss I'd
experienced in a long time. Too long. 'Kris was right,' my little hind-brain
said. 'You've been needing this.'  Then it all shut down as I concentrated on
making love to this dream creature in my arms.

While my arms tightened around her, pulling her upper body to me, our tongues
dueled as our kiss became more demanding. Breaking off, I began to kiss her
eyes, nose, forehead, while her hands caressed my ears, and ran through my
hair. My hands were shaping the back of her body, tracing the marvelous curves
from shoulder to waist to hip. Little whimpering sounds came from her just
before she kissed me again, hard, almost savagely. Pulling back slightly, she
attacked the buttons on my shirt in a controlled frenzy.
"Bill, oh Bill! How I want you!" she panted. "I've wanted you for weeks."
My shirt came undone, and was ripped from my waistband. As the T-shirt was
pulled up, she continued, in a low, rapid voice, "I talked Kris into bringing
me along last weekend, so we could be together. And the motorhome was my idea,
too." My shirt was gone over my head and tossed into a corner. Now she was
working on my belt. "Kris mentioned a month or so ago that the only man she
knew who met my criteria was you--but you were too old!" The belt was gone and
the button about to surrender. "I decided you weren't too old as far as I was
concerned!"  The fly was down, and she was tugging hard to get pants and shorts
off of me. "Are you too old for me?" she asked.
"I devoutly hope not." I answered, holding her slightly away from me by putting
my hands on her shoulders and pushing gently. "If we're going to do this, let's
do it in comfort and style. There's a nice big bed, right there, instead of
this cramped couch. And I'm anxious to unwrap you, too. Shall we?" I stood,
and my trousers promptly fell around my ankles and were kicked off, with the
loafers.
When I gave her my hand, she rose gracefully, allowing her wrap to fall open.
(I don't remember how it came undone or who did it.) Underneath was just
Miriam. With a groan, I took her in my arms again, my hands around her waist
under the gown, her arms around my neck. We kissed again with growing passion
as I reveled in the sensation of her skin against mine.
Breaking away, she let the gown fall from her arms, then pulled the covers
off the bed. With her elfin giggle, she plopped onto it, held out her arms
and said, "Join me?"
I paused only a second, while my brain registered with joy the sight before me.
This girl was an incredible picture. Slender and molded, sleek, not voluptuous
- except her breasts which are large, firm mounds of delight rising from her
chest even when she's on her back. Her skin is slightly tanned, smooth as a
baby's, with a perfectly clear complexion. Her body would not disgrace any
men's magazine centerfold. And her face displayed character and the real beauty
I was just coming to appreciate. A beautiful, classy package, indeed!
As I scrambled beside her, into her embrace, I thought of my own appearance.
My 'body image' is of a slender young man with broad shoulders, but a distance
runner's physique, lanky, not muscular. Unfortunately, the mirror told me I was
a good 20 pounds heavier than that, mostly in belly and butt. The hair on my
head is thinner and grayer, with the gray even invading the hair on my chest.
'What does this marvelous woman see in me?' that hind-brain gibbered.
Then I had no time to worry about it. Miriam seemed to devour me! It was as if
she needed to kiss, touch, caress everything at once, almost in a frenzy.
My shorts were torn off, and the equipment examined, handled, kissed, before
her tour of my body took her briefly down my legs and back up my chest to my
face again, where she kissed me frantically.
She gave me little tugs and pushes, whimpering in her need, as I moved above
her. This was not going to be any artistic, protracted, gentle lovemaking.
This was NEED and HUNGER from both of us. She steered the equipment to the
right place, as women always do. 
Just before I entered her, I looked into her eyes. 
And saw welcome.

I found myself enveloped in a warm, moist grasp, so sensuous I gasped in
pleasure. Miriam embraced me with her legs up around my waist, pulling me in
as deeply as we could get, her arms around my shoulders, crushing those
marvelous breasts into two firm pillows beneath my chest. Kissing my face,
neck, chin, ears with fast kisses, still in her frenzy, she started shaking and
went into orgasmic convulsions.
Gasping, "Kiss me!" her mouth latched onto mine, and I kissed her deeply as her
spasms continued. Unable to hold out against such passion, I felt my own
release start. As I stiffened, and pumped into her, she screamed out her joy
and climax.

When I'd recovered my breath, I tried to pull away, to take my weight off of
her. She wouldn't have it. With a little whimper, she held me to her.
Then after a few minutes, wrapped her legs around mine to keep us joined, and
rolled to the side. Miraculously, I was still half-erect, and able to remain
in her. (That's not often the case. Oh, for the resilience of youth!)
After kissing me, thoroughly, but without the urgency of a few moments ago,
Miriam grinned at me and said, "Bill, that was not just good, it was better
than I had even dreamed!  I hope you're keeping healthy, because I'm going to
be keeping you busy trying to top that."
I smiled back, and said, "Girl, you're pretty fantastic yourself. I'm really
glad you were on a hair-trigger, 'cause I'd been without so long, I couldn't
have held out any longer."
"I'd expected that, Bill. I thought we'd have to wait until the second time for
it to be any good. Boy was I surprised!  And delighted!" she said with a couple
more kisses.
"Miriam, we both, obviously, needed this. And I'm not at all concerned that 'we
shouldn't be doing this.' We're adults, and neither of us sleep around. What
I'm leading up to is: Why me?  You're young, beautiful, and could have most any
man you want. Why an old broken-down guy like me, old enough to be your dad?
NOT complaining, mind you! But I really would like to know."
With that enchanting giggle, she replied, "I probably shouldn't tell you this--
at least not so soon. You know that exercise Kris made you do? Where she made
you list all the traits you wanted in a woman?" I nodded. "Well, she showed it
to me, with a comment that it's too bad I wasn't older, since it seemed you
wanted me; except that I'm too young for you." I nodded again, understanding.
"Then a week later, she kind of dropped a comment that, except for age, you
were the match for the list I'd made, after similar prodding and coercion from
her. Naturally, that got me to thinking about the age issue. I'd always liked
and admired you - as Kris' dad. You'd always treated me like a real person, not
a kid. Finally I thought, 'What the heck, he's an interesting guy, anyway.
Let's get acquainted, and see.' So I took every opportunity so see you, and
demanded that Kris take me along to Seattle.  When I forgot about age, and just
interacted with you as an adult, I found that you were the most interesting -
no, exciting - guy I've met in a long time. Had you been closer to my age, I'd
have jumped you weeks ago. I just had to get my head straight. Are you
uncomfortable about that?"
"No, Miriam, I'm not. I'm flattered, and awed. I guess I was afraid that this
was a 'mercy fuck', or something. Although it was fantastic, I really don't
want that. So I'm happy."
This time, I kissed her, and smiled at her lovely face. "So where do we go from
here?" I asked. "May I court you? Could you be interested in anything more than
an older friend who's good in bed?"
Her reply was without hesitation. "Of course, silly. I'd be hurt if you didn't.
I'm looking forward to spending a LOT of time with you. In bed and out. I'll
find out everything you like and do it for you. I'll find out what you don't
like, and keep it away from you. I'll see you living again!"
With that, I tightened my arms, pulling her against me for a long kiss of
exploration and commitment. After a moment, the kiss turned passionate, and
Miriam rolled on top of me. Still joined, she tightened her vaginal muscles
around me, resulting in immediate readiness.
This time, we were able to take our time, and taste each other. The frenzy was
over; we enjoyed being mated, and discovering the secrets of the other's body.
We kissed and stroked, and petted and loved. Finally unable to restrain our
arousal, the pace quickened, and we were again able to bring each other to the
ecstatic release we craved.

I awoke to the smell of fresh coffee, and the sound of the shower. And I heard
the clear sweet soprano of Miriam singing in the shower--a song of love and joy.
In a moment the water stopped, and she stepped into the room, unselfconsciously
naked, toweling her hair. Seeing my eyes on her, she smiled, dropped the towel,
and rushed to pour me a cup of coffee.
"Good morning, darling," she said, as she handed me the cup.
"Who told you I need coffee first thing in the morning?" I growled, but with a
smile at the corner of my mouth.
"Nobody. I just paid attention in the motorhome. I saw that you were a complete
bear until Kris gave you coffee. Then you became a pussycat. Women notice those
things. Especially when they intend to pamper someone."
"Oh?  And who are you pampering today?" I grinned.
With a mock scowl, but unable to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching,
Miriam replied, "Men! Don't understand anything! Today I'm the one who gets
pampered."
"Hmmm," I teased. "I thought women got pampered on their birthdays, Mother's
Day, things like that. The rest of the time, their function is to pamper
their men."
"Shows all you know, you old fossil," she retorted with a big grin and a finger
in my kidneys. "I happen to be a modern woman. We can be pampered any time at
all, without hurting us a bit."
"Kids these days!" I muttered, still teasing. "Think they know it all. Surest
way to spoil a woman is to give her attention. Pamper one more than a day or
two a year, and first thing you know, they're following you around, jumping
into your bed at night when you need your rest, fixing your favorite dinners,
and all kinds of stuff."
With that, Miriam whacked me on the shoulder, and give me a big kiss.
"Yeah! Ain't it great?" she said. 
Before she could climb back in bed with me, I jumped out to take care of severe
bladder pressure. Heading for my own room, I said, "I'll be back as soon as I
clean up a bit."
Miriam stopped me with, "Darling, I moved your things into this bathroom."
With a Cheshire cat grin she added, "and your bag is on the stand, there."
Her face changed to an exaggerated pout. "I wanted you here, so you couldn't
get away."
I just looked at her in amazement. "How long have you been up?" I asked.
"Well, I was too excited to sleep much. I cuddled for awhile, then got up and
moved you in. Then I cuddled some more. It was soooo delicious! Finally I
napped a bit, and got up for good about an hour ago. Go shave and shower.
I'll be here," she waved me to the bathroom.
Taking care of my immediate problem, and then brushing my teeth, I decided I'd
shave in the shower. I hadn't done that for awhile, normally using my electric
razor. But a fresh blade shave is so much nicer for a woman . . . 

Just as I was finishing the shave, I was joined in the shower by a wood nymph.
Or a sprite, or elf or some other supernatural female. How else explain that
sleek figure with the voluptuous yet firm breasts?  How else describe the
flowing black hair, the dainty ears, the slightly tilted eyes?  How else
account for the unearthly eroticism of her body as she took the shampoo, and
proceeded to wash my hair, then with soap and cloth, the rest of my middle-aged
body.
When I tried to caress or fondle her, she gently took my hands away and told me
to be patient. 
After I was bathed to her satisfaction, we dried each other with the large
towels the hotel provides, and put on the terry bathrobes I'd found hanging in
the room. Emerging, I discovered a large room-service breakfast set out on the
table.
I'd expected to sample some other delights in bed, then go out to breakfast.
Miriam had other ideas. "Sit. Eat," she said. "I have a feeling you need to
build up your energy after such marvelous exertion last night."
"Dear girl, you amaze me," I said, sitting. "I came here expecting a pleasant
evening with a young friend. And I've found instead an enchanted lover who
surprises and amazes me at every turn. I'm afraid I'll wake up. This is too
wonderful a dream to end."
Sitting by me at the table, Miriam smiled and said, "Who says it has to end?"
Really surprised, I answered, "How can it not?  We both have to get back to
work bright and early in the morning. You travel most of the time. I travel
some, but am really tied to my phone and FAX. When we're not on the road, we
live three hours apart. How can it not end when I go home today?"
"Well, darling," she said, "why do you have to go home today? Can't you wait
until tomorrow morning? So we could share another night?"
"Sure - I suppose so," I agreed.
"And as soon as I finish this trip, would you be offended if I asked to be a
houseguest?"
I paused a moment to think through what I was hearing. My hesitation didn't go
unnoticed, and Miriam thought I wasn't thrilled with the prospect. Seeing her
face change from its innocent enthusiasm to concern, I quickly said, "Oh, I'd
love to have you. I'm just trying to visualize where this is all going."
With that, she propelled herself onto my lap and kissed me quite soundly. Then
she got up and required me to eat my breakfast, saying with a sly grin I was
going to need my strength.

As we ate, Miriam asked what I'd like to do that day. When my eyes
involuntarily flicked to the bed, she grinned, "Besides that?" Answering her
own question, "I'd kind of like to go to church this morning, and do a little
shopping this afternoon. Would you mind?"
"Church is a great idea. But what are you shopping for?" I asked, warily.
The sly grin was back. "I need some country clothes, if I'm going to be your
guest. Other than clothes for work, everything I have is either evening wear,
or suitable for my apartment. I don't have anything I could wear at your place.
No jeans, for example. Or proper shoes."
To avoid the subject of shopping, I suggested we'd best move out if we were
going to church that morning.
So we quickly got ready to go, took a spin around 'my' room to ensure nothing
was left there, checked out of 'my' room at the desk, and headed for a church
about a mile away. Miriam was dressed in a suit, complete with hat and gloves.
A remarkably classy package. I was proud to be with her!
The service was well presented, and the sermon excellent. The people were very
friendly, and we received three invitations to lunch. If we hadn't just had a
big breakfast, we'd have accepted one.

On the way back to the Hilton, I suggested that Miriam would do better getting
country clothing at the farm co-op in my town, rather than paying big city
prices. Obviously, a mere man like me doesn't understand anything. She loves to
shop. And she was testing to see how much of it I would tolerate.
Seeing my expression, she decided not to press her luck. She suggested instead
that we check with the hotel. Perhaps we could take an afternoon river cruise?
There was one available on a sternwheeler, so we did it. Very peaceful and
relaxing, to cruise the river and see the city from the water. We pointed out
favorite sights, chatted, held hands, and worked on the delightful bonding
process.
When the afternoon trip was over, I asked where she would prefer to have dinner.
"How about pizza in bed?" she asked with a big grin.
"Best offer I've had all day!" I agreed.
Returning to the hotel, I called room service while Miriam was doing some
cleaning up in the bathroom. Yes, they'd be happy to make us a pizza. What did
we want on it?  Miriam just wanted three cheeses, while I wanted sausage,
mushroom, olive, pepperoni and extra jack cheese. With our order, I asked for
a chilled bottle of cabernet sauvignon.
Assured it was not problem, and that the pizza would be ready within a half
hour, I turned on CNN, watching with half my attention while I considered the
events of the past two weekends, and wondered where I would be going from here.

Although I had initiated our 'date' for this weekend, I was becoming aware that
I had done it because Kris and Miriam had conspired to put me in a position
where I would want to. And I had been pretty much a passive participant this
weekend, in the sense of accepting Miriam's plans. I needed to decide for
myself what I wanted. What would be my 'best case' result?  How could I get
from here to there?  I made myself a note to work on it as if it were a problem
for one of my clients. I'd start on my own case on Monday.

Miriam came out of the bathroom scrubbed clean and with her hair back in a kind
of ponytail. She was wearing the hotel bathrobe and, I suspected, nothing else.
My, she was beautiful!
Giving me a little smile, she said, "Aren't you uncomfortable in all those
clothes?  Why don't you freshen up, and get into a robe, too?"
Grinning I replied, "The room service waiter will be here with our pizza in
about half an hour. I wouldn't want to shock him by making him think we were
doing lewd things in this room. Besides, I need someplace for my billfold.
I'll change after dinner."
I'd pay for that.

Miriam decided to spend the time until the food was delivered in my lap.
In theory, she was watching the news with me. Actually, she was seeing how
turned on she could get me, and if she could get me undressed before our
dinner arrived.
She was indeed covered by the robe and skin. She made sure that, when she sat
on me, she was not sitting on robe. Then she wiggled her bare bottom over the
bulge in my trousers regularly. Just maintaining my interest, you understand.
Turning to kiss me, she also made sure the robe gaped open, putting her
marvelous breasts on display. (The nipple against my chest felt like it was
boring a hole through my shirt!)  Kissing me wetly, arms around my neck and
hands in my hair, I had no place to put my free hand but on her other nipple.
Moving my palm over her hard nub caused a delay in her kissing, while she
gasped, then moaned into my mouth. "Darling, I hope you don't know just how
much you turn me on!" she whispered, before her mouth devoured mine again.
Grinning inwardly--I still had clothes on, after all--I put all the passion
I could into the kiss, while continuing to caress and pull the nipple on her
breast. 
In minutes, her hips were pumping, and she started her little whimpers. She
needed help. So I put an arm under her legs and stood up, then placed her on
the edge of the bed. Laying her back, I knelt between her legs, and kissed her
inner thighs, quickly working my way up to her center. When I licked from
bottom to top, parting her lovely lips as I went, she went crazy!
"Ooooh, YES!  Like that!  There! OOOHHH!!"  She bucked so hard I was afraid she
would hurt herself against a tooth, or my chin, so I grabbed her hips, held on
and rode it with her. I wanted to stay with her through her climax. 
I did that, OK, but her climax didn't end. Rather, it kept building until,
finally, she pushed me away, saying, weakly, "Oh, darling, please stop. I can't
take any more!"
Wow! I'd given pleasure to a woman before, but had never seen one go into
multi-orgasmic spasms like that! It was a tremendous boost to my middle-aged
ego to know that I could ring her chimes so well-and so thoroughly.
When she let go of my hair, and collapsed on the bed, I kissed her briefly,
and went to the bathroom to wash my face. Getting a clean washcloth,
I moistened it with warm water, then returned to her and gently cleaned her
face, then wiped her legs and between them. She murmured her pleasure at my
ministrations, and smiled a little. 
I had just finished when the room service waiter knocked on the door.
What timing!
Giving her a hand, I helped her to her feet and steered her to the bathroom.
Then I opened the door and allowed the waiter to set our table for our dinner.
When he was gone, Miriam came prancing out into the room, full of energy as if
rejuvenated.
And naked as the day she was born.

Going to the table, she poured two glasses of the wine, then took them to the
bed, along with the bottle.
"Grab a couple slices for each of us, and the napkins, and get over here!"
she commanded.
By the time I'd done that, she had a wine glass on each nightstand, and was
watching me critically.
"How are we going to watch TV, make love, and eat pizza in bed if you're still
dressed?" she asked, reasonably.
"Easily remedied," I replied. "Just give me a minute to arrange dinner a little
more conveniently, and I'll be with you."  While I was talking, I moved the
table over near the bed. Then I shed my clothes in record time, and jumped in
with her.
While this was going on, Miriam had been flipping channels. She found football,
which I applauded, but kept going. No pause at all on the X-rated channels.
We didn't need that--we had each other to look at. Finally she found a movie
which looked interesting to her. I didn't care.
Grabbing naked girl in one hand, and the wine glass in the other, I proposed a
toast. "Here's to us: to love, trust, caring, and faith."
Miriam responded, "God grant that we will always put each other first, after
only Him."
We clicked our glasses together, and sipped the excellent Oregon vintage.
While we were doing this, I replayed what I had just heard.
Was Miriam proposing?
Putting my glass down, and picking up a plate of pizza, I paused, looking
intently at her. She sat with her eyes shadowed by her long lashes. I put the
pizza back down and said, "Miriam, we seem to agree that we'll see a lot more
of each other. Are you looking for a permanent relationship?  What is it you're
asking for?"
That was really clumsy. But I had to know where she was coming from.
I guess Miriam sensed I was serious. She looked up at me, without any trace of
her usual mocking grin, or sly mischievousness. "Bill. I'm a simple girl,
really. I just want whatever I can get. I love you. I want your love.
Whatever you're willing to give me, I'll accept with gratitude.  All I ask is
that you don't hurt me spitefully. If you feel we need to break it off,
please do it cleanly and like a gentleman--which I know you are."

Was I surprised!? I took a moment to think about it, and be sure of my own
feelings. "Miriam, 'love' can be a slippery word. What do you mean when you
say you 'love' me. Does that mean what we've done in bed? Or spending a little
time together on a date? Or something more?"
"Bill, we mentioned that Kris had coerced me into listing what I want in a man,
before she did the same to you. And I think I told you she showed me your list
a little while back - I see her fine Irish hand in all of this. I think she and
Mike are trying to get us together... But because they love us and think it
might work - Anyway, the most important thing I told Kris is that I want a man
who will love me. And I asked if that wasn't too much to ask from life.
If you will just love me, that's all I'll ask of you. I don't need more. In
return, I offer my love, my loyalty, my body, my time--whatever you will take.
For as long as you want it."
Meanwhile, I still had one arm full of delightful, naked girl, while my free
hand tried to deal with a slice of pizza. Lots of guys would kill to take my
place at that moment.
Finally - more than the one big bite of pizza later - Miriam turned to face me
directly again. "Bill, please understand that I love you. Completely.
Passionately. You alone. For life if that's what you want. I want to be
with you."
"Can you do that?" I asked, thinking of her job, and the amount of time she
spent on the road. 
"You mean Carl, my "ex"?" she asked, misunderstanding my question.
"Well, no. I was thinking about your job. But how much of a concern is
your "ex"?  Carl?"
"I can manage the job. I don't really need to spend much time 'at the shop',
and I can make my travel schedule fit whatever you want. Carl is a problem,
though."
"I'm not afraid of him!" I said.
"I know you aren't. Frankly I wish you were. He's not sane. He's completely
obsessive about me. I told you a little about him. He's an ex-SEAL. The Navy
gave him a Bad Conduct Discharge after he beat a prostitute within an inch of
her life. Merely because she'd entertained another customer after she was
with him.
The restraining order just makes him careful when he watches me. He keeps his
distance -mostly- now. Except when he's drunk, and then all bets are off.
When I'm on trips, he usually doesn't worry about me. He knows I'm not a slut,
and don't 'put out' for customers or people I meet on sales trips. But when I'm
at home, he knows everything I do, and everyone I see. I suspect my apartment
and phones are bugged. I've had a service in, but he's better than most
commercial services.
He slapped me around pretty bad when we were married. And threatened me, often.
One thing he's said, several times, is that he'll kill any man who I let into
my bed. I believe he means it."
"So he won't accept the reality that it is over between you?" I asked.
"No. That's what I'm saying. He's completely obsessive -irrational- about this.
He just won't let it go. One guy I just dated a couple of times--all he got was
a good night kiss when he brought me home--got beat up pretty thoroughly. The
guy says he couldn't tell who assaulted him. But he never called me again,
either. Of course, the police couldn't do anything."
"Miriam, I refuse to live in fear of a scumbag like that. My life isn't worth
it if I have to worry about his like. I'm willing to take reasonable
precautions. And I thank you for letting me know what we're involved with.
I'll think of something. We'll be OK."

Carefully putting my pizza on the nightstand, I reached for her. She wasn't
quite as careful, and we ended up with cheese in some interesting places.
No harm done. I got to lick it off.
Our lovemaking that night was passionate, but not frantic. Miriam's body
seemed to flow under my hands. And she gave as good as she got.
When we had spent our first passion, and were just holding each other, neither
of us were willing to sleep. We'd turned off the TV, and talked.
"Darling, can you imagine how happy you've made me?" Miriam asked.
"Sure I can. I'm a pretty cheerful guy myself, right now. In fact, I'm really
amazed that a lovely young woman like you would want to live with someone as
old and worn out as I am. I sure hope you really know what that means, 'cause
I don't think either of us needs any nasty surprises--or disappointments."
"Bill, how could you disappoint me?  You've already given me much more than I
ever expected. And you've given me the satisfaction of watching the saddest
eyes I've ever seen come alive." With a bashful smile, "I like the way you look
at me, my darling. It makes me feel warm and secure-loved and wanted."

That prompted a tender kiss, which I followed with, "But Miriam, what you don't
realize is that my body is starting to wear out. There are many physical
activities I can't do any more, which were easy only a few years ago. I'm
taking pills every day now--and will for the rest of my life."
This surprised her, and she asked why, when I seem so healthy.
"It's a matter of prevention and maintenance. I never took pills before.
But the doctors have convinced me that I will live a healthier, longer, more
satisfying life if I take these pills daily. The way it was put to me: If the
chemicals can keep me healthy longer, by replacing what the body no longer
produces, why not? My response was, 'Why not? Indeed!?'"
"I guess I understand. I'm surprised, is all," she said.
"There's at least one other 'surprise' you need to know about," I said.
"Sometimes I can't get it up - can't achieve or maintain an erection. We've
been lucky so far. In fact, I'm a bit amazed that I've been able to do nearly
as well in bed as I have this weekend. The last year with Brenda I had to use
the shots."
"Shots?!" Miriam asked, with no idea of what I was talking about.
"Yeah, shots. There is a safe compound that is injected into the penile tissue,
which results in erection. I prefer to avoid them, but believe me, the shots
are better than going without!"
"Without...?"
"Without sex."
"Oh... OH!... I can see that!" Miriam agreed. "Any other skeletons in your
closet?"
"Occasional insomnia. I normally only average about six hours sleep a night
now. Melatonin helps, but it's not a cure. And that's all I can think of, love."
"Well, good. I'm glad you shared that with me, although I'm not concerned or
frightened by any of it. Now, since we're both still awake, and naked, here in
this bed, do you suppose we can think of something really interesting to do?"
With a big grin, I turned to her as if I were going to kiss her. But instead I
latched my mouth onto one of her spectacular breasts. This resulted in Miriam's
head being tossed back, with a gasp. Then her hands were in my hair, holding my
mouth to her needy breast. While my tongue massaged one nipple, my palm was
working its magic on the other.
Soon, she was whimpering again, so I moved my free hand from breast to vagina,
where it stroked and petted for a bit. This didn't last long, though, for she
was soon thrusting herself at my hand, to increase the friction. I parted her
lips, stroking up and down, spreading her wetness over the area. When I finally
touched her button, her whimpers changed to a groan. She was still holding my
head tightly to a breast, so I knew she was enjoying that attention. 
I felt she needed some penetration, and inserted one, then two fingers into
her.
Immediately, I could feel her vaginal sphincter start to clench on those
fingers. I guess that was what she wanted all right. With the thumb, I started
to gently touch her clit, and she went right over the top and kept climbing!
Her whimpers became screams, and her whole body vibrated, then convulsed as she
screamed my name, over and over.
Have I mentioned I really enjoy turning this woman on?!!

After a few minutes, her eyes focused again, and she saw me gazing at her.
She looked back, then her face split into a big grin. You know what kind. She
dove for my crotch and swallowed me--only until it was hard again. Then she
pivoted around and swung a leg over me so she could impale herself. 
Every time was better than the time before. She was so hot, so tight, I had
to think about interest rates and internal rates of return to keep from
blowing my load right then. When she started to slide up and down, with her
back arched, and those marvelous breasts I'd just been chewing jutting out
for my inspection, I was transfixed. I didn't move. I just lay there and
watched, and felt and enjoyed. I won't compare making love with Miriam to
Brenda. Brenda is gone, and Miriam was there and loved me! She was marvelous!
Soon her tempo increased, and she started 'milking' me with her sphincters.
I'd never experienced that before, but it is an incredible thing to feel. As
she sped up, she leaned towards me, her hands on the bed by my shoulders, her
breasts abrading my chest with those hard, hard nipples. Then, suddenly, she
went from whimper to scream, and, in mid-scream, kissed me frantically. Again
I could feel her start to convulse. First in the flat muscles of her shapely
tummy, then her legs, then her entire body was involved. Her mouth left mine
as her head whipped around, and her screams again echoed in the room.
With that stimulation, I just couldn't hold back any longer, and shot load
after creamy load into her greedy belly.
Falling forward again, Miriam kissed me deeply, then collapsed on top of me.
Still joined, with the curviest 'comforter' I've ever had, I pulled a blanket
over her and we fell asleep.
I woke a couple of times, but each time I would have moved from under her, she
whimpered in her sleep, so I stayed in place. Her vaginal sphincter was so
tight it clung to me, even though I was almost limp. The occasional twitch
was enough to keep me partially erect most of the night, even while asleep.
If you've never tried this, dreams are something else when you're plugged in!

Bladder pressure finally did me in. I gently moved her aside and went into the
bathroom. Once I had emptied the tank, I looked at my watch and decided I
needed to get up and get moving anyway. I had a busy week ahead, and needed
to get on with it. I faced a two-hour drive yet. Not complaining mind you!
I brushed my teeth and started the shower when Miriam came into the bath.
With a big grin, I offered to share the shower with her. She eyed the toilet
and said she'd join me in a minute. 
There was no modesty about me watching her, but watching someone pee didn't
do anything for me when I was a kid, and it still doesn't. Watching Miriam,
naked, do anything, however . . . .
I stepped into the big shower stall, and in a couple of minutes, Miriam joined
me, with a big, sloppy, 'good morning' kiss. We were both still pretty sated
after the wonderful lovemaking the night before, so other than a little
friendly groping, our play in the shower was just that--play. We were sensual,
not sexual. We shampooed each other's hair - a really neat, sharing experience.
We'd found our mates and were caring for them.

Next a quick cup of coffee, dress, pack, and I was ready to 'get outta there.'
Miriam insisted I have breakfast with her--not that I took much persuading--so
we did, in the coffee shop. "When will I see you again?" I asked over the
waffles.
"I have two more days' work here, then I'm home for a week. Could you stand it
if I come to your place tomorrow evening?"
Grinning, I said, "Only if you can't come tonight! Seriously, I'd be happy if
you just move in."
"Oh, Bill. That sounds like heaven! I wish it were that easy. But we'll work
it out. And we'll work out more details after tomorrow." The rest of our
conversation was just the drivel you'd expect from two people in love. Good
drivel, but not worth repeating.
All too soon, I was in my car heading home for another week of work, and
Miriam was headed for the first of her appointments for the day, as she
reminded her customers why her employer's instruments and sheet music were
better than anyone else's.


Section Two

Monday I spent the whole day on the phone. I couldn't get off of it to get any
real work done. And I'd promised myself to examine my own situation and decide
what I really wanted. The only time I had for that was during "Monday Night
Football." Al, Frank and Don didn't get much of my attention that night, as I
wrestled with the pro's and con's of a relationship with Miriam. Finally, it
came down to asking myself, "Can I live without her?" That thought scared me
silly, so I guessed I'd better settle some permanent arrangement pretty soon.
Yep. I was (and am) in love. 
My 'best case' scenario: Marry the girl, if she'd have me.

On Tuesday I was really under pressure. I had a lot of work to catch up, and
I had this niggling idea in my head that I'd better start preparing for
Miriam's 'ex'. Finally, I couldn't stand it, and called the sheriff requesting
an appointment. Since we knew each other socially, and I'd hosted a campaign
meeting for him, he granted me some time that afternoon. In fact, he even drove
over to our town to see me - said he needed to check on his deputies in this
end of the county anyway.
It was very gracious of him, and I thanked him for it.

What I wanted was advice. And an ally. I knew that until Carl did something,
the sheriff's hands were tied. But I was afraid that if he did something it
could be very final. I wanted to prevent that if I could.

I'm familiar with many security measures. Some are common sense, others involve
avoiding patterns. But I was tied to a place, most of the time. I lived and
worked at the end of a long driveway at the top of a dead-end county road.
I could move, but he could find me elsewhere, if he could find me at all. And
I didn't have any notion that I'd be hard to find. Besides, I didn't want to
move. I wanted to make things so difficult, he'd give up, and leave us alone.

Miriam was the link. I had to arrange it so he'd have to physically follow her
to find her and me. That would take some careful preparation. Miriam's boss,
for example, could give her away in a second, without having any idea he'd
done it. So could the receptionist, or any of a dozen other people. Somehow, I
had to arrange things so that Miriam could 'disappear' yet be available by
phone. And the phone couldn't be traceable either.
As Norm, the sheriff, and I kicked ideas around, he said he could work a deal
with the phone company to get me a Salem line. We could get Miriam a Salem
address, and use a Salem phone number. Just tell everybody she got tired of the
crap from Carl, and the extra driving, and moved to Salem. Her paychecks could
be deposited directly into her account, which she would move to a Salem branch
of her bank. 
That would make her hard to find, assuming Carl had no link to me. Would he be
likely to come after Kris?  Hard to say. Probably not, since that would tip us
off, and would give the law a reason to come after him..
At one point, Norm asked me if this woman was worth all of this. "Seriously,
Bill, don't you think you could find a safer girl than this one?"
"Not likely, Norm," I replied. He dropped it. "A question I had for you: I'd
like to start carrying a weapon again, at least in the car. Can I get concealed
weapons permits for more than one weapon?  That is, a permit for me, without
specifying a particular weapon?"
"Sure. We do that all the time. You'll have to come to the courthouse, though."
We batted around a few more ideas, including installing an alarm system tied
in to his substation in town, then Norm went back to check on his deputies,
with my thanks and gratitude.
Next I called the security company Norm had recommended, and made an
appointment for someone to see me the following day.
Just as I was making my list of tasks for the next day, Miriam drove in.

2

Bouncing out of her car and over to give me a big hug, she kissed me wetly, and
said, "Hi, lover. What's for dinner?"
I lost it. When I stopped laughing, I said, "What do you mean, what's for
dinner, woman?  What do you think I keep you around for?  Get to cookin'!" with
a faked smack on her butt.
"Insensitive brute!" she said, falling into the game and faking an accent.
"I've been out slaving in the hot sun in the fields all day, while all you've
done is tend that still. And you want me to fix dinner too?"
Happy. Together. This is how it's supposed to be.

I grabbed her bags, and carried them into my room. Although Miriam had been to
the house a couple of times with Kris, she'd never seen that room. To my
relief, she liked it.
There was plenty of space. I pointed to the walk-in closet. "That's yours,
love. And if you need more drawer space, you can use some of the dresser
there," I said, putting her bags in the closet. I wanted her to feel 'at home'
from the start. I felt, and she confirmed, that she had moved in as of that
moment, even though it would be a few weeks before we arranged to move things
from her apartment.
In the kitchen, I quickly laid out the 'fixin's' for dinner. I'd thought small
steaks and fresh salad, with baked potato would do. Low fat, high in protein
and carbohydrate. It's what you put on the salad and potato that add fat and
calories.
Miriam kicked off her shoes, and tossed her jacket over a dinette chair. "I'm
not normally this messy," she declared, "but I want to be with you more than
I want to put things away."  Looking appreciatively around the light and
spacious kitchen, she added, "A girl can get real spoiled real fast in a place
like this. And such a handsome cook, too! I don't know how I'll handle such
prosperity."
"You'll handle it often, I hope," I joked back at her. My goodness, I was glad
to see her - to have her here!
In minutes, the potatoes were in the oven, the salad prepared and in the
refrigerator, and the charcoal was lighted. Selecting a bottle of a good local
wine, I poured two glasses.
"Here's welcome home. May you find love, joy and peace here." Miriam beamed as
she touched her glass to mine, then sipped.
Obviously tired, she was too keyed up to be able to let go and relax. After a
few minutes, she got up and announced she was going to put her things away.
Fifteen minutes later, she returned in casual clothing with her face scrubbed
free of makeup and her hair in a ponytail. Seeing the look of appreciation on
my face, she stopped and struck a pose in the kitchen door. It was a different
look than that of the sophisticated business chick she had been when she
arrived, and I found her lovelier without the makeup and tailored clothing.

"We have another 20 minutes or so before I can do anything more about dinner.
Would you like me to give you the $3 tour, or would you rather just rest?"
"The tour, by all means!" she said. "I've only been in the living room and
Kris's room before, and I'm curious, naturally, about the rest. Show me.
Show me!"  I'd forgotten about her incredible energy level. Can I keep up
with this girl?  This woman?
To my great satisfaction, she was delighted with the place. It's bigger than
she's used to, though not overwhelming. She didn't seem to be looking for
things she could change, but rather getting acquainted with her new home and
what it contained. 
She was impressed with my office suite, and asked if there would be room for a
desk for her. I hadn't really thought that through, but we'll surely make room
for her to have her own work space. I suspect I'll convert a guest room for her.
In the kitchen again, Miriam found a comfortable seat while I put the steaks on
the fire, and refilled our wine glasses.
[Maybe you're wondering why we weren't already in bed, or at least 'making out'
all of this time. Remember: Neither of us are teenagers. We were constantly
touching each other. Our attention was focused on the other. We'd get to bed.
And we knew it.]
After a comfortable pause, where neither of us felt a need to speak, but rather
just enjoyed the other's presence, Miriam said, "I feel I'm 'letting down the
side' somehow, making you do all the work fixing dinner. But you can't believe
how good it feels to come here, after the stress of a trip, and have you here.
I'm more relaxed than I think I've been in a year. Normally I come home,
cautiously, to a cold, empty apartment. Here I'm not worried about my safety,
and I'm not returning alone, to a lonely place."
I kissed her, went to turn the steaks, and while checking the potatoes, said,
"I'm glad you feel that way. I'm going to do all I can to keep this place a
haven for you. But you know it isn't just a one-way street. I'm really blessed.
Otherwise, I'd be nuking a TV dinner, and watching hockey on satellite TV, then
going to a lonely bed in this big house. Having you here is, literally, an
answer to prayer."
"You know, Bill--in spite of the fact that I set out to snare you, if I could--
I still have to pinch myself to convince myself I'm really here. And that you
really love me. I'm so much younger. Why me, instead of a woman who has your
level of experience and accomplishment?"
"It's no secret, dear. One of the important criteria I listed was that my woman
had to be physically attractive. Not spectacular, necessarily--not a
'trophy wife'--but substantially above average. The reason is that I'm
stimulated visually. And I need a woman who turns me on, because sex is
important in a relationship. The other stuff, intelligence, ability, and so on
is still vital, but I felt sexual attraction was a key element for me. There
aren't many women my age who have maintained their appearance well enough to
excite me. And those who have are mostly either happily married or are tramps."

At that point I broke off to see if the steaks were done, as they were. So we
set the food on the table, and dug in. When we'd beat back starvation a bit,
we returned to the subject.
"Bill, don't I run a high risk of turning out to be immature, childish even,
in your eyes after you've lived with me awhile? Or even worse, do you expect me
to think like a middle-aged woman?"
"That's a risk we're both taking, love. I just don't know. I do know we'll have
to have extraordinary patience and tolerance to make this succeed. But, since
he answered my prayers with you, I must assume that you are the woman God
intended for me. And from a comment or two Kris has let slip, the same applies
to you - true?"
"Yes, I suppose it is true," she said. "I set out to get you only after I'd
really studied the list Kris conned me into generating--and she had said you're
the only man she knew who met my criterea. That got me thinking about you,
which got me interested in you, which got me turned on just thinking about you,
and so on. And prayer was definitely a part of it."
"Love, it seems to me that our concerns about each other are mirror images.
Let's promise, right here, between ourselves, that either of us can remind the
other that we're needing some help in any area. If we can do that, I think
we're sensitive enough to be able to meet the other's needs of the moment?"
"Sure, Bill," Miriam agreed with a grin, "I can do that. I'm a woman.
But can you?"
"With the help of God and a good woman, I can!" I replied.

That was enough of the 'deep' stuff for the evening. Offered dessert, Miriam
declined. "What I'd really like, darling, is to try out that hot tub I saw
outside the bedroom. Is it ready to go?  Or do you need to set it up?"
"Your wish is my command. It's ready to go as soon as you're ready to get into
it. Do you want pure relaxation, or do you want company?"
The delightful giggle again: "Of course I want company. Would m'lord do me the
honor of accompanying me to the bath?" Taking her hand, I helped her to her
feet, and led the way to our room where we shed clothes and I gathered two
large towels before opening the doors to the deck and the tub. 
Removing the cover, I checked the water temperature by hand. It seemed just
right to me--less than boiling. Turning on the jet pumps, I offered my hand to
Miriam, to help her step in. Then I froze. She was flat-out gorgeous, in the
light of the half-moon and the lamps from the bedroom. Her giggle - my reaction
was noticed and appreciated - broke the spell, and I helped her in. 
Oops! Seems not everyone likes water as hot as I do. With comments that she
is neither Japanese nor lobster, she eased herself into the water inch by slow
inch. It was fun to watch, even knowing that she was uncomfortable. My tub
contains a sort of contoured couch, as well as several seats, and the usual
assortment of bubbling water jets. I tried to steer Miriam to the couch,
knowing that she was tired, and thinking this would be the most relaxing
to her.
"Bill, if you don't take me in your lap, and hold me and cuddle me and soothe
me, right now, I'll scream!"
Well, if this isn't every boy's wet dream, I don't know what is! With arms
wide, I invited her onto my lap, where she came like she fit. We were sitting
with just our shoulders out of the water, her legs stretched to my right, my
left arm around her back and waist, her right arm around my neck. Once she was
settled, I got a very wet kiss, and a pair of hard nipples pressed into my
chest.
Then she broke the kiss, so we both could breathe, and let me get a hand on
her breast. Of course, she had to move a bit, to get us both comfortable.
Of course she did. And, of course, her bare bottom on my bare lap was cause
for a gallant response.
Feeling my erection, she squealed in delight, reached between her legs to
grasp the intruder, and made sure it intruded where it could do some good!

It had only been two days, but she was hotter and tighter than I remembered.
And, though I had built the house years before, and lived in it ever since,
I felt I'd come home, when Miriam joined herself to me there.
"Oh, my love, what you do to me!" I panted.
She gave me a smirk, and a little giggle, proud of her ability to turn me on.
I couldn't let her think she was in control. So I flexed my crotch muscles,
causing additional penetration. Her eyes snapped shut as she gasped.
"Darling, you give as good as you get, believe me!" she breathed, huskily.
I kissed her, my tongue trying to penetrate her mouth as deeply as I had her
vagina. When she went limp in my arms, I broke the kiss, and asked, quietly,
if she'd had enough of the tub, and was ready for bed.
"Absolutely. Except that I think I'm going to need you to carry me. I've come
twice already!"
"No problem!" I said, standing with her in my arms-unfortunately coming
unplugged in the process. I carried her out of the tub and over to the
sliding doors. Proceeding inside, I gently deposited her on the bed and
assured her I'd be right back. 
I covered the pool, shut off the pumps and lights and got back into the
bedroom in record time, to discover that she had turned down the bed and was
in it, covered to her chin in my down comforter.
"Cold, love?" I asked. It wasn't as warm as the hot tub, certainly. I normally
like to cool down fast when I've been in the tub, but maybe she felt chilled.
"No, I'm just waiting for my lover. I don't want to expose myself to any
strange man who might come along."
That was all I needed. I flipped the cover off her, then gazed rapturously at
her fantastic body. Naturally, I was hard as a rod. Eventually, Miriam got
tired of my just looking, and sat up to grab that rod and pull it down to where
it could do something useful. Feeling myself sinking into her heat and
softness, I couldn't help but pity the man I was a mere week ago. Then my
spirit soared! This woman had committed herself to me for as long as I would
have her! I would experience this whenever I wanted. 
Or she wanted.
Thank you, Lord!

3

In the morning, I awoke feeling 'watched'. Then I remembered. 
Miriam was here!
Opening my eyes, I found her propped up on her pillows and an elbow, gazing at
me with a sappy expression on her face. 
"Good morning, darling," she said, when she saw my eyes open.
"Morning, love," I mumbled, but with a smile. (I'm NOT a 'morning person'!)
Then I staggered into the bathroom, and having emptied the tank, remembered I
wasn't alone and brushed my teeth.
Stumbling back into bed, I smiled again--Miriam hadn't moved, as far as I could
tell--and asked what her schedule was.
With a BIG grin, (she is, God help me! a morning person) she asked, "Do you
mean my menstrual cycle, my work requirements, or my plan for today?"
"Don't be a wise ass. Nobody likes a wise ass in skirts!" I grumbled, but with
a smile. "I'm most interested in what you need to do today--and the rest of the
week, I guess."
"I told my boss I was taking today off. I wanted to find out what and how much
'moving in' you wanted me to do, and plan how to go about it. Then I thought
I'd organize my life a bit. Tomorrow, I need to tell my boss where I am and how
to reach me."
"Great!" I affirmed. "I have about three hours I have to get in today, but it
will keep for a bit. How can I help?"
"Bill, this has all been really fast. Do you really want me to move in with
you? That wasn't just something generated by the passion of the moment?"
"Miriam, relax. I love you!  I really want you here!  The sooner the better.
OK?"
"Darling, Bill, thank you!" she said, and planted a kiss full on my mouth.
"That does remove some confusion, doesn't it?
"About moving: Should I just call a moving company and have everything packed
and delivered here?"
Without hesitation, I said, "Absolutely not!"  THEN I noticed the effect this
outburst had on Miriam.
"Love, I'm not having second thoughts!  But I want to do the best I can to
avoid problems from your ex. I don't think Carl knows about me. I'd like to
keep it that way. So what I think we should do is move your things to a
storage site in Salem about a month from now. Meanwhile, is there any reason
you need to go back to your apartment right away?"
"Sure is. I need my clothes, and need to water the plants. I need to check
phone messages and check in with my boss. I thought I'd do those things
tomorrow. Why?"

"That should be OK. I have some security concerns and ideas. We'll go into
detail later, but your plan for tomorrow should be all right. If anyone asks
why you're taking more clothes, just say you're going on an extended swing
through your territory, and need clothes.  Don't give your boss, or anybody,
this phone number, address, or even my name, OK?  We don't want anybody to
link you with me for as long as possible.  Do you have any friends, other than
Kris, who could water the plants, and so on for you?  Kris is a link to me.
Not that that is so important, except that it's a link to where you will be,
so we need someone else who's discreet and reliable."
"Mary, in the apartment next door is nice, and would look after things for me."

"Great!" I said. "Now let's talk about your job. You'll tell them you're moving
to Salem. When they ask why, you can hint about a boyfriend, but tell them that
it's more central to your territory. As soon as you have a new phone number,
you'll give it to them. Meanwhile, you'll check the machine in your apartment
at least daily for messages.  Does all this, so far, make sense?"
"Yes, Darling. And even if it didn't, I'll do whatever you say."
"Marvelous. But it's better if you understand and agree with the reasoning."
"Yes, Darling. I think I do," she said.
"OK. Here's what I plan to do. We'll put most of your things in storage in
Salem. We'll get you a mailing address at one of those private mail box places.
We'll have to arrange for somebody to pick up that mail regularly, but that
shouldn't be a problem. Have your pay deposited directly to your bank account.
There's no need to transfer your account to any other bank or branch.
"What we're trying to do here is create as many 'dead ends' as possible.
A determined investigator could get through all of this. But I'm hoping an
amateur can't. So we'll 'move' you to Salem, as far as the world is concerned.
But Salem will be a dead end. Your furniture and things will disappear there.

Your address will be there, but a dead end. We'll get you a Salem phone line,
into here. But the sheriff assures me he can get your address and number
completely buried, so no one can get to them. If your boss or a customer calls
you, all they will be able to find out is that it is a Salem number. They'll
never be able to connect the number to an address. Of course, Carl, your ex,
is the real target of all this.  So go ahead. Get whatever you need tomorrow.
But count on buying everything else for at least the short term. Set your
answering machine so that you can access it remotely. Give your neighbor a key.
And say goodbye to the place."
"Wow!  You have been thinking about this, haven't you?" she said, impressed.
"Of course I have. Now that I've found you, I'm not about to lose you to some
obsessive maniac. I want to look forward to spending the next twenty or thirty
years--however long I'm given--with my cock buried in your cunt!  And I want
to be looking at you, not over my shoulder, while I'm doing it."
Laughing, Miriam agreed.

My shower isn't as big as the one in the hotel. But we found that two could
use it at the same time if they wanted to. We wanted to. Fun.

While I got some essential work out of the way, Miriam called Norm, the sheriff,
to enlist his help in getting a completely unlisted Salem phone line installed
at my house. It won't be cheap, but well worth its cost. Then she called her
landlord and gave notice for six weeks in the future. And tomorrow the private
security guy will call on me here.
Miriam spent the rest of the morning looking around the house; opening
cupboards and closets, checking supplies and groceries, making notes about
silver and china for entertaining, and all the other things a woman must do
when taking over a new house.
After a light lunch, I suggested we go to Salem for a quick shopping trip.
I think I goofed. I meant to go to Costco to stock up on food and printer paper.
Miriam heard 'shopping' and envisioned Meier & Frank, Nordstrom's, Bullocks,
I. Magnin, and so forth. In the end we compromised. We went to the farm co-op
store in Dallas and bought 'country' clothes for Miriam. My, does she make a
fine country girl!  Half a dozen shirts, 4 pair of jeans, three dresses
(size 6!), socks, boots, two pair of shoes, hat, belt, and she still needed new
underwear!  She found that at Penney's.
I hate shopping!  But you know?  I enjoyed the day. I was providing for my
woman. I needed to do that.

When we returned home, and her loot was stowed, Miriam insisted she would fix
dinner. "Didn't Brenda cook for you, Bill?" she asked, when I would have gone
ahead and cooked.
"Well, sure. But . . ."
"But, nothing!  I'm cooking. If you can't find anything more interesting on TV,
you can sit over there and keep me company.  <mumble, grumble>  The day I can't
cook for my man, I'll turn in my  <mumble, grumble> . . . ."
The girl obviously felt strongly about it.
Dinner was very nice, although simple. But then, she didn't have a feel for the
kitchen yet, and hadn't laid in her own stock of groceries. What I had leaned
heavily towards frozen, nukable dinners, and things in cans.
Miriam was vivacious. She seemed energized by the efforts of the day. And she
was a funny, witty, charming, entertaining sprite at night.
She was really impressed with the house and the property. She wanted to know
'why' a lot of things were as they were. In the house, the answer was, mostly,
'Brenda wanted it that way.'  And outdoors it was mostly, 'That's all I've had
time to do.'  I suppose she'll make some changes, but she was quite satisfied
with what she found here, and was merely curious mostly.
When we'd finished dinner, she shooed me out saying, "I'll handle it. You go
watch the news. And call me when the weather forecast comes on!  Scoot!"
Ten minutes later the dishwasher was running, and a lovely female joined me to
watch the news. But she said she couldn't see properly from anywhere in the
room, except in my lap. I thought I could handle that. And I did. I handled
that, and that, and that. Most fun I've had while watching Dan Rather in years.
The kisses were very nice, too.
Soon we were ready for bed, though far from sleepy. That was nice, too.

The next day, Miriam drove to her apartment, and packed, as planned. Bringing
clothing and items she felt she needed immediately, she pretty well filled her
car. It would be hard to maintain that she was just going on another sales
trip. But she ran her errands first, and told a convincing tale to her boss.
Then she hit the road again, coming home.
It was late when she arrived, so I had fixed a simple dinner. I helped unload
her car, which we parked in the garage alongside my Chrysler, my little pickup
being relegated to the cold and wet. The garment bags, I could just hang in her
closet. And the bags could go there too, until she could unpack them. There
were a few boxes of things which found an overnight home on the floor of my
closet. Then I fed my mate, and took her to bed.
Making love was spectacular that night. It wasn't very energetic--Miriam was
tired--but it was an expression of love and commitment, now that she had moved
in to stay.



Section 3


During the next week the Salem line was installed, and Miriam arranged for her
address, too. Meanwhile, I had the house wired with the best alarm system I
could buy, including 'panic buttons,' all wired straight to the sheriff's
station in town.
And that was all I was willing to do. I would not turn my home into a fortress,
nor live in fear of a crazy man. Miriam seemed more relaxed, and content than
I'd seen her since her college days. And I was ecstatic.

Shortly after we had the Salem line installed, and an answering machine
attached, Miriam gave her boss her new address and phone number. Customers
could still call her old number:  Miriam would check that recorder daily and
return calls.
One thing I insisted on: Miriam would not answer the phone directly. She would
let the answering machine 'screen' her incoming calls.
Sure enough, about three weeks later, her ex was on the line, demanding to
know where she was. I made a copy of the tape, and gave it, along with a copy
of the restraining order, to Norm, who passed it to the Marion County Sheriff.
Since we were trying to let the world think Miriam was in Salem, it had to come
from there. From Marion County, a complaint went to the D.A. in Lake County.
Carl, her ex, would be cited for violation of the restraining order, and,
we hoped, be placed on probation. Our goal was to cause him to back off some.
And that when he thought the coast was clear again, Miriam's trail would be
too cold for him to follow to us.

I did not want to live in fear of this jerk. Problem was, he was not only a
homicidal maniac; he was a smart, well-trained homicidal maniac. It seemed that
some really strong preventative measures were indicated, to keep this idiot
at bay.
A very good old friend was closely connected with a retired Marine Corps
Commandant. I called Paul, and laid my problem out for him, requesting that he
call General O'Reilly and ask for a name and phone number of someone I could
talk to.
Two days later, I had the name of the commander of the SEAL detachment in
Coronado, along with General O'Reilly's permission to use his name, and to ask
him for any additional help he could give. Paul said, "The General read this
guy's jacket - don't ask how he got it. Retired Commandants can get anything! -
and decided no ex-Marine should have to put up with this scumbag!  He'll do
whatever he can to help."
When I called Commander Kochenskii, he knew who I was, and the basics of what
I wanted. General O'Reilly had already called him!  We arranged to meet in
San Francisco in three days.

The Commander was a compact, muscular guy. Just what I expected a SEAL to look
like. I gave him all the details I could about Miriam's ex, Carl, including a
copy of the restraining order, some pictures, and everything I could remember
about what she'd told me regarding his past and present activities.
I was moderately surprised to learn that the Commander had not only read his
complete record jacket, but had seen the files regarding his discharge.
Then he had interviewed a half dozen SEALs who remembered the guy.

"This is the kind of turkey we try to weed out long before they become a SEAL,"
he said. "Somehow, this jerk slipped through a crack -- happens. We can't catch
them all. -- Anyway, we'll do what we can to help. I can help right away, by
detailing a team for 'training' in southern Oregon. We're a lot more
sophisticated now than when he was with us. We'll tap his phones. We'll watch
him. The first time he even looks like he's trying to contact you or Miriam,
we'll put some fear into him!   If this guy is really insane, though, I don't
think that will end it. Probably, he'll just get more cautious. We'll be ready
for that, and nail him again--with some physical incentive to let it go. 
If there is a third time, we'll have to arrange a non-fatal -unfortunately-
'accident' for him. While he's still in the hospital, we'll make sure he knows
that he's had his three strikes and he's out. He'll need to move to Florida
right away if he doesn't want to be back in the hospital."
This guy was serious!  And he was saying just what I wanted to hear. "Do you
think that will really do it?" I asked.
"Not over the long haul," he answered, candidly. "But it will get you free and
clear for a year or two. May I offer some suggestions?"
"Please do!" I replied.
"As soon as we have him out of circulation for a bit, Miriam needs to
'disappear'. By that, I mean, she needs to quit her job and vanish."
"I have no problem with that. I can certainly support her OK," I said. "I'm not
sure how she would take it, though. She's proud of what she's accomplished in
her career, and seems reluctant to give it up."
"Well, it's a suggestion. But a strong one. Think about it. Another thing:"
he continued, "Your daughter is a link. Even if we're successful, he could
always come to her for information about Miriam's whereabouts. And no matter
what, that can't be entirely prevented."
"Yeah, I see that. And I don't see any solution, either. If you come up with
any ideas, I'd sure like to hear them." 
We had to leave it at that. Commander Kochenskii promised to keep me posted
with progress reports, and I promised to do the same.

I called Paul with an update and my thanks before I left San Francisco. I don't
think I'm at risk at all yet, but why take chances when I can call from a line
I know isn't tapped?


2


Back home, I waited a couple of days for Miriam to return from her latest sales
trip. This one was to Cour 'd Elene, Idaho.
When she'd returned, unpacked, put the dirty clothes in the laundry, eaten the
dinner I'd prepared, and we were sitting in the hot tub, I asked, "Miriam?"
"Yes?"
"How hard would it be for you to give up your job?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
I smiled and pulled her to me. "Two reasons. First, I miss you a lot when
you're on a trip. Second, I think you need to 'disappear' soon after we move
your things out of your apartment."
"That doesn't happen for a week yet," she mused, relaxing in my arms. "But I
can give my 30-day notice tomorrow."
"No. Don't do that. Just disappear."
"Bill!  I can't do that!  They've been good to me there. I can't just not
show up."
"OK. I can see that. I'll tell you what we'll do. I'll get Norm to call the
sheriff in your old town. He'll tell him the situation -but not where you are-
and get him to arrange to see your boss discreetly. Your boss already knows all
about Carl, you said. If the sheriff tells him why you had to take off, I think
he'll understand. Once you disappear, you can pack up everything you need to
return to your employer, and ship it from the mail place in Salem. A couple of
weeks later, you can write him a letter, outlining any business things you
need to. You can tell him you were afraid for your life, being constantly
stalked, and just had to leave. And you can ask him not to say anything to
anybody."
"Do you think that will work?" she asked optimistically.
"No. But it will buy us some time."  I looked at her, turning to mush inside
as I did. "Most of all, it will make me a lot more comfortable, having you here
where I can protect you. You don't 'disappear' until Commander Kochenskii says
to. He plans to put Carl out of business for a bit. You'll fade then."
"When will all this happen?  Will I go on another trip first?"
"I think as soon as your things are moved, Carl will act. When that happens,
Commander Kochenskii will act, too. As soon as he says Carl's out of the way,
you'll disappear - here.   Having studied his records, and listened to those
who knew him, Commander Kochenskii believes this is a guy who thinks only with
his fists or his prick. Since he's so physical, the plan is to have him so
busy on the receiving end of physical he'll finally decide he's better off to
go somewhere else, and find someone easier to pick on."
Giving us both a moment to digest what I'd said, I continued, "It seems the
SEALs feel badly about giving all that dangerous training to someone without
enough conscience and self-discipline to only use it under direction. They
really don't want to turn trained homicidal maniacs loose on the civilian
population.  They will do all they can to make it up to you."
"But, Bill. How can they insure my safety unless they kill him?" Miriam asked,
with more insight than I had given her credit for.
"They can't, but they have to try," I answered. "They'll take it in escalating
steps -didn't I explain this?- each one doing more damage. If Carl ends up on
a slab, no one will lose any sleep over it. But they'll try to convince him to
move across the country and leave you be, first."

The next day I arranged to speak with Norm again. He agreed with the plan we'd
worked out, and would talk with the Lake County sheriff. He knew the guy well,
and didn't see a need to use the Marion County sheriff as a 'cutout.'  Miriam
wouldn't make any more trips. And in two or three weeks, she'd 'disappear'.

Soon after the van arrived to pick up the things from Miriam's apartment, Carl
showed up, wondering where his 'girl friend's' things were going. The next
morning, the local police picked him up in an alley and briefly jailed him for
public drunkenness and vagrancy, until he convinced them that he had a place
to live and had been 'mugged.'  He didn't tell anyone about the bruises around
his ribs and thighs.
The next day, there was another message from him on the recorder, almost
incoherent with raving and threats. This time, copies were not only sent to
the Lake County D.A. for probation violation, but to the SEAL team.

Two days later, Carl was pulled from the wreckage of his car, which had
apparently skidded off the road and rolled down a steep embankment. Carl had a
broken arm and leg, and several ribs were broken - as well as his nose. Both
eyes were black, and an ear was torn, too.
He'd be in the hospital for a week, with heavy casts immobilizing him - then
he'd be in the county jail on the probation violation.
It was time for Miriam to 'disappear'.


3


At first, she had a very hard time coping with all the free time - not having
work responsibilities. And we both felt that we had been forced into this
situation, which rankled, to say the least.
Miriam busied herself with 'homemaker' tasks - cleaning, buying groceries,
cooking, laundry. Even sewing. (She repaired some clothes of mine I didn't
think I'd ever be able to use again.)  But after two weeks, it was obvious to
us both that she needed something more. She had, after all, successfully built
a career in outside sales over a large territory. She was used to being busy,
and to travel. To seeing new faces, and to the requirement to use her
considerable powers of persuasion to sell her product line.
Our growing and deepening love for each other, while becoming more important
to us both daily, could not fill that need.
But it was hard for us to plan for her future -or our future- with Carl still
lurking in the background. While Commander Kochenskii and his people had put
Carl out of the picture for a couple of months, none of us had any
misconceptions that we'd heard the last of him. He would find us. And he would
try to do something about it.

After a couple of weeks, Miriam asked me to put her to work. So I did. I took
her out with me on a couple of short trips to interview prospective consulting
clients. As soon as she had a good idea of what I was trying to do, I let her
handle the selling of the service. Turned out, she's a lot better at it than
I am, anyway. No surprise there. 
And I enlisted her expertise in the marketing and sales parts of the
consulting work I was doing. It also turned out she's a very good consultant.
So I built a low partition, and made her a cubicle of her own in my office.

In the evenings, we fixed elaborate meals -high in flavor, low in calories-
or each other. And at night, we loved each other. Sometimes elaborately, with
warm oil massage, candles, and the whole nine yards. Other times simply,
with simple love, trust and passion.

All too soon, I heard from Commander Kochenskii again. Carl was 'on the prowl'
again. His team would do their best, but I needed to be prepared, too.
>From that time, I went armed constantly.
We hated it!  Our simple joy with each other, and our growing love, had this
big dark cloud hanging over it. We just wanted to be left alone, to live our
lives in peace. We were forced to live with constant vigilance, always
concerned about security - always checking behind, for what might be lurking.
While this might be a good thing, and surely taught us not to take anything
life gave us for granted, it was wearing, and disgusting, that this animal
could so threaten us.

Then I had to visit a client in Bend for a few days. I tried to get Miriam to
go with me. It's lovely country, after all. But she said she'd stay home.
The client didn't have any sales problem, and she had work in plenty to do
at home. She'd be fine.
This was the first time we'd been separated by my work.

The first two nights, I called from my motel, chatting about the events of
the day. Nothing much, really, from either of us, except that we wanted to talk
with each other. I'd head home the third morning, and arranged to call just
before I left Bend, so Miriam would have an idea of when to expect me.
But when I called, there was no answer. We habitually disabled the answering
machines when we were at home, but were also punctilious about turning them on
when we left. I called again 10 minutes later, still with no answer. I was
getting quietly panicked. So I called the sheriff's office, and asked for
Norm, himself. 
He finally came on the line, and I told him the situation. We both hoped it
was a simple oversight, but Norm understood the problem, and said he'd have
my place checked out. I told him I'd see about getting the SEALs there, too.

Then I called Commander Kochenskii in Coronado. He'd have his team alerted,
and send somebody, but it would take at least three hours for the nearest SEAL
to get there. He hadn't heard anything from the team which was keeping an eye
on Carl, but it would have been easy for him to slip the leash, since they
weren't keeping a tight surveillance on him.
My next move was to start burning up the highway on my way home. I was over
two hours away, but determined to find out what was wrong with my woman.
An hour down the road, I stopped for gas and nature. While stopped, I called
home again. Still no answer. Did Norm's deputies get there?  What is going on?
Why doesn't anybody answer the phone?  The questions buzzed around in my head,
sending me down the road faster and faster.
Just outside Salem, I saw a police car, lights flashing, with a pulled-over
motorist. That gave me a little sanity check, and slowed me down.
Finally, I neared home. First stopping in town, I tried once more to call.
Still no response!  Didn't the sheriff's people find her yet? I wondered.
Driving up the county road, I decided caution was probably advisable, so I
parked in a neighbor's driveway, a half mile from my house, then decided to
walk to the top of the hill and approach through the trees from above.
Take the high ground! my Marine Corps tactics instructors used to preach.
I had two pistols, the snub barreled .38 I carried, and the long barrel .357
from the car.
Passing my driveway, I saw a sheriff's car, but no sign of any deputies.
Then, from above the house, I saw a still body, in uniform, on my back deck.
This indicated that Carl was, indeed, there and had either rendered the deputy
unconscious or killed him. 
My house was a trap - for me.

Very slowly, very carefully, I worked my way closer. I'm really too old for
this! I thought. It also occurred to me that SEAL reinforcements should be
showing up any time now. About 20 yards from the house, I stopped, and studied
everything. I finally saw a figure sitting in a dining room chair. Looking
again through small binoculars I carry in the car, I could see that it was
Miriam. From time to time her head moved, and she was sitting upright. So it
seemed she was awake. But then I saw that she was tied to the chair,
and gagged.
Where was Carl?
I had to remain still for over half an hour, but he finally moved. He'd been
on a sofa in the living room. He got up to make a 'patrol' of the house,
giving me a chance to slip to the side of the house and reach the disguised,
buried alarm box. I was able to trip the silent 'panic button', and also to
disable the house alarm system. Now I could be an intruder in my own home,
without advertising the fact to the intruder within.
While Carl was in the bedrooms, I entered the kitchen. As soon as he came out
of the hall, I shot him. 
Even with both hands on the pistol, leaning against the kitchen door jamb,
I'm ashamed to admit I almost missed. But it was good enough. I just skinned
his head, knocking him out for a minute - all I needed to truss him up like a
turkey. The scalp wound bled like a stuck pig.
Let those who've been raised on 'Ivanhoe' and tales of cowboy heroes who shoot
pistols out of bad guys' hands try chivalry. For those of us who've been shot
at, the priority is getting the opponent DOWN!  If he survives, that's his
good luck. My own survival, and Miriam's, was my only concern. I'd meant to
nail him right through the chest.

Freeing Miriam, the gag came off first. "Are you OK?" was my first, breathless,
question. Assured she was, I asked, as I freed her hands, "Did he bring anyone
with him?"
"Not that I know of," Miriam answered, understanding the question. "How's the
guy on the back patio?"
"Dunno. I haven't had time to check. You can do that in a minute. We have a
couple of decisions to make. First, do we let him live?"
Miriam couldn't believe I'd asked that, but it was a pertinent question. OK,
he'll survive us.
"OK, love. But I want to make sure he doesn't feel real eager to come back.
I intend to break him a little. Will you forgive me that?"
"What do you have in mind?" she asked. I misunderstood her. I thought she was
going to object. The female is the more dangerous of the species!
"I had in mind both knees, and the right hand and wrist," I said. "If I do a
good job, he'll recover eventually, but not without a lot of pain, and not
completely."
"Oh. I agree!  One hundred percent!" Miriam answered. "But those three areas
need to be shattered, not just broken!  Maybe a break in the jaw would help
the pain quotient, and thus reinforce the lesson, too?"
Dragging him outside, we propped him on a built-in bench. I went to get a
heavy piece of pipe, while Miriam checked the deputy. "He's breathing, Bill!"
she called, just as I swung the pipe like I was going to hit one out of the
park.
The pain of his right knee being broken woke Carl back to consciousness.
But when the left one was also broken, he went right back out. I hit each a
couple more heavy swats, to make sure the damage would be complete. Then we
untied him carefully, and laid the right arm over the back of the bench. 
At her request, I let Miriam do the honors. After all, he had terrorized her
for several years. She was due. After beating the right wrist, hand, and
forearm repeatedly, she shoved him off the bench, so he was lying on the patio.
Miriam asked me to stomp the wrist and fingers, to make it look more like the
results of a fight. I was happy to. And added a few good kicks to the ribs and
kidneys. I wanted to break bones. I wanted to hurt him so much he'd change his
way of thinking about me and about Miriam. I succeeded.
Then my quick-thinking lover scraped my hands on the bricks of a planter to
skin the knuckles, and artistically mussed my hair and rubbed some dirt into
my face. Ripping a knee of my trousers, she dirtied that up, too, and demanded
my shirt. "We'll tell anyone who comes you've already changed into a new
t-shirt," she said.
And sure enough, in a minute a young man I recognized as one of the SEALs
stepped onto the patio from the same trees I'd used to approach. 
"Very artistic. I like your style, Ma'am," he said. "Sir," he nodded to me.
"I saw it all from the trees, where I stayed in case you needed a backup. You
overpowered him, after taking a couple of hits, and giving out some good ones.
You stomped his hand when he wouldn't let go of the .357 he'd stolen from your
bedroom.  There's a couple of deputy sheriffs about 50 yards downslope, closing
fast. You tripped the silent alarm, so they didn't use sirens. But they won't
waste around with one of their own already here and not reporting."
"No problem," I replied. "We'll just move very slowly, with our hands visible,
until they settle down. Their other deputy is probably OK. That'll help."

Almost at once, we heard, "Freeze!  Hands straight out to your sides!
Everybody turn and face me - slowly!"  We complied, as one deputy came around
each corner of the house, weapons drawn, scanning the area in the approved
manner.
"Deputies, I'm Bill. The owner of this house. The lady is Miriam, my fiancee.
The other gentleman on his feet is a SEAL. I think your other deputy is OK.
He's just inside the house. The bad guy is the one on the seat there. He's out,
but you'll want to cuff him before he comes around. He's a really bad one!"

While the deputy behind us cuffed Carl, muttering an exclamation under his
breath when he saw his right hand, the other, never wavering from his stance
with his weapon 'covering' us, said, "May we see some identification please?
You first, Bill. Slowly, with your left hand, please."
"No problem, deputy. But you need to know I'm armed. There is a pistol at the
small of my back. I'll turn around so you can watch it, and your partner can
watch me in front. I don't want anybody else hurt here."
"Yes, sir!" the deputy responded. "Just stand still and my partner will take
the weapon. He'll also get your wallet - right hip?"
"Sure," I said, glad things were calming down. And once he'd compared my
driver's license picture, he put his weapon away, and suggested we all have
a seat. Carl, on the ground, wasn't going anywhere, and we were OK.
Just as the deputy who seemed to be in charge started to ask just what was
going on, the first deputy came staggering out of the house, supported by the
other. Rubbing the back of his head, he looked really sheepish and said,
"I never even saw him. I got the call from Norm, and was checking the place
out when I felt a blow to the side of my head. That's all I remember."
"OK, Chuck. If you feel up to it, drive back to the station. Otherwise, you
can have the medic check you over. In fact, I think you'd better do that, and
ride back with Andy."
"Sounds good to me. I'll just sit down over here."
"Now. What happened here?" the senior deputy asked.

The three of us filled him in on Carl's sorry history of violence and
intimidation. And that he was more dangerous than most because of his SEAL
training and experience. We also assured him that Carl was not sane, by most
standards, and was capable of extreme violence. "Your deputy -Chuck?- was real
lucky!" the SEAL said. "Carl could have killed him easy by hitting him just a
tiny bit harder. Maybe he's got an especially think skull. Anyway, I'll light
a couple of candles in thanks for him. Chuck should spring for a whole novena,
if he's Catholic, or be real grateful if he's not."
Miriam confirmed that. She felt the only reason she hadn't been mistreated
much more than she was (her eye was turning black, and she had some nasty
bruises on face, chest, arms and legs; where Carl had pummeled her in his
frustration), was that he, somehow, felt he needed to 'win her back' by
eliminating anyone who showed any interest in her. "Bill was determined and
lucky. He slowed Carl early with a kick to a knee, then was able to damage him
more with kicks as they scuffled. And when he went to free me, Carl got a gun.
That's when the arm happened. It was all pretty fast, and really scary!"
The SEAL, (Chief Hanrahan, we learned later) confirmed everything we said.
I could tell that the deputy wasn't convinced, but he wasn't going to push it,
either. After all, a very dangerous guy, who had just missed killing one of
his fellow deputies, was out of commission and under arrest. The citizens had
defended their home. Everybody seemed happy. All he had to do was wait for the
ambulance to fetch Carl, go home and write up his reports. Andy, he decided,
could book the prisoner in. He'd take Chuck back to the station if the
paramedic said he was OK.
Chief Hanrahan politely asked if he could accompany Andy in the ambulance,
"Just to make sure the prisoner gets where he needs to go. I'm more familiar
with his training, and maybe could prevent something upsetting from happening."
Quite happy for the help, the deputy agreed.
"Would it be all right if we go clean up?" I asked. "We've had a lot of wear
and tear this morning. I need a shower and clean clothes. Miriam needs a stint
in the hot tub, ice packs, and some time in bed. Could I leave you to handle
things out here, or will we be needed some more today?"
After a brief moment to consider, the deputy said, "Go ahead. Please call Norm
as soon as you can. He'll be in touch, or I will, if we need anything more."
Miriam and I went gingerly to our room, where we collapsed into each other's
arms.

Clutching me as strongly as I was her, Miriam put her head to my neck and
let go. I'd never seen her cry like that. She wasn't hysterical. But she wasn't
just sitting with tears in her eyes, either. Strong sobs shook her frame.
Her tears poured from her, as she poured out years of tension, fear, and
frustration.
When she finally stopped sobbing, she stood, took my hand, and pulled me up.
Without a word, she undressed us both, then led me into the shower, where we
tenderly washed each other's hurts. When we were dried, we treated our
abrasions with antiseptic cream - after I'd taken several Polaroid shots of
her bruises. 
"What's your pleasure, love?  Ice packs or hot tub?" I asked.
"Hot tub - no contest," she replied.
After telling the deputy where I'd be if he needed me, and to knock before
he came out there, we retreated to the hot tub at the corner of our deck.
The tub has a marvelous view, but is not visible except from our bedroom or
the upper deck.
Holding each other in the soothing hot water, feeling my aches melt away as
the heat and water jets did their work, I could see Miriam relaxing, too.
"Is that the end of him?" she asked.
"I think so. I hope so. The Chief says they'll do a little conditioning on him
before he gets to prison. I don't think, personally, that he'll survive prison.
If he does, he's in no shape to come after us again. His right hand will never
recover, and may have to be amputated. Both knees will always be crippled, even
if he gets artificial joints. . . . He thought he was a tough guy. He just
didn't have sense enough to realize he'd run into two people who were both
tougher. You impress me a lot, Love.  I need to call Norm. Do you mind?"
When she signaled OK, I picked up the outside phone and put the call on the
speakers, so Miriam could listen.

"Bill!  I'm very glad to hear your voice," Norm said.
"I'll bet you are!" I replied. "Have you heard from your people?"
"Just a preliminary from the dispatcher. They're OK, and they have the
perpetrator. How about filling me in?"
"Glad to, Norm, although the senior deputy out here seems to have his stuff
together. You'll want to hear from him, too."  I proceeded to give Norm the
'official' version of events. When I finished, I asked, "Norm, how can we be
sure this guy doesn't get off - or out in two years courtesy of our wonderful
parole board - and come after us again?"
Norm laughed!  (I didn't think any of this was a laughing matter!)  "I don't
think you'll need to worry about that. That SEAL commander -"
"Commander Kochenskii?"
"Yeah, him. Anyway, he and I were talking half an hour ago. Seems the Feds want
him for investigation of criminal violation of national security. So while he's
still in casts - that Chief thinks you do good work, by the way. He's been on
the horn to the Commander. They're impressed. For an old jarhead, they think
you're OK. High praise indeed, Bill - anyway, the Feds will borrow him for a
couple of weeks. While they're 'investigating' him, he'll receive some pretty
powerful conditioning. I think he'll be scared spitless of you and Miriam when
they're done with him.
"Then we'll get him back and try him for attempted murder, and anything else
we can think of. I've spoken with the D.A. We'll throw the book at him. The
judges can't do anything about the sentencing guidelines, and the parole board
is a law unto themselves. But he'll be in for a good while. I think when he
finally gets out -if he ever does- he'll get as far away from Oregon as he
can."
"OK. Thanks again, Norm. And we're glad your deputy is going to be all right."
With that, we hung up.
"We'd better get out of this tub, dear. We've been in here too long already.
And I want to get an ice pack on your eye."
Steering Miriam towards bed, even though it was early afternoon, I put on
shorts and slippers and made a tour of the place. Everyone was gone, and
someone had even brought my car up to the garage. I locked up, and crushed ice
for an ice bag for Esther's eye. 
She didn't like the cold, but knew it would help. Her shiner would be pretty
spectacular for the next week!

Lying there, cuddling, both of us too beat up to even pet each other - or
welcome the petting - we were lost in our own thoughts for a long while, as we
watched the sun set over the valley. (At least it hadn't rained!  A bit
unusual, though very welcome, for that time of year.)
Although my body was beat up, my mind was in bliss. What a miracle!  This
woman not only met every criteria on my list, she was more than I had dreamed
possible. One tough lady, she'd done what needed to be done with Carl without
whining or pussyfooting. And she'd contributed her share. Some pieces clicked
together in my head. And in my heart.
"Miriam?"
"Yes, Bill."
"Would you marry me?"
I saw an expression on her face I'd never seen before. Her lips began to
quiver, and her eyes filled with tears. She had a look of incredible yearning,
and love, and joy--and deep sadness.
After kissing me slowly, tenderly, she sat back and said, "No, Bill. I can't
do that. Ask anything else, and I will, gladly."
"Miriam, I'm confused. I love you. You love me.  You've offered yourself
without reservation. This is what I want more than anything. Why?  Is it
because I'm too old?"
"Darling Bill. I'm a slut who let a worthless jerk push me around. I put you
in danger. I put my best friend, your daughter, in danger, and your
grandchildren. Just love me as long as you can. Let me live with you - for as
long as you can. Then let me go, when you don't want me around any more.
That's all I need. That's all I ask."
"What crap!  I repeat:  Miriam, will you marry me?"
Tears streaming from her eyes, she answered, "You fool, Bill!  If you really
want me that much, of course I will. I'll be proud to be your wife!"

We were married two weeks later.


Two years later, our son was baptized. Miriam wanted at least one child of
her own. I was more than happy to indulge her.
We heard that Carl had suffered additional injuries in prison - the state had
sent him to a prison in Ohio under a prisoner exchange program where the states
help each other out with 'problem' prisoners - which resulted in a shattered
ankle. He'd never get out of a wheelchair.
Then he had a massive stroke, which caused severe and permanent paralysis.
Carl is out of our lives forever.

Miriam works on sales projects on a commission basis, and is bringing in more
money than I've ever made. 
I've reduced my workload drastically, taking only projects which have a special
fascination. Everything else which comes to us is referred to a group which can
handle the projects competently, and pays us a fee for the referral. My days
are spent about one-fourth on work, one-fourth on community events, and the
rest raising my son and enjoying my wife.
Miriam works harder than I do, but still has plenty of time for the men in
her life.

We are content.


1997 Extar International, Ltd. All rights reserved.
Permission has been given to Water's Edge to archive this story.
Permission to download single copies for private use and entertainment
is granted.


(author: "The Star" <extar@hotmail.com>)
-- CJ
Remove the .NOSPAM from my address to mail me. No files by e-mail!
I don't write any stories. I'm just a reader, and sometimes a reposter.

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