I want to start by advising everyone that this truly is a "saga", defined as a long, involved story, account, or series of incidents.

The events in this story all happened as described, although they did not involve one couple as they do here. The story is long, contains a lot of detail and dialog, and smidgens of humor. Sexual activities are inferred, but left up to the readers' imaginations for the most part.

I had not intended to submit an entry into the Valentine's Day contest, but since I finished this one before the deadline, I figured, "Why not?"

Your votes will likely answer that question. Enjoy.

Chapter One

As the saying goes, "Once a cheater, always a cheater."

I never gave that axiom much credence where Samantha and I were concerned, because, although we were both married to other people, neither of us had cheated on our spouses when we first got involved with each other.

My wife at the time that I met Samantha was a stay at home mom for our two kids. Linda had dropped out of high school and never held any sort of job. Her parents were both alcoholics, so to get her out of a dysfunctional home environment I found a small studio apartment and she moved in with me. I worked two and sometimes three jobs while attending college classes, saving money for tuition and our future.

In retrospect, I don't think I ever loved Linda so much as I felt a need to take care of her. Being responsible for someone other than myself grounded me at a time in my life when I needed to be more focused to make something of my life. Linda was fun to be with and devoted to me at the time, but I came to also question whether she had ever actually been in love with me or just loved being taken care of.

For the first five years of our marriage, she suffered from agoraphobia, or "fear of the marketplace", and she would only leave the house if I went with her. Our son, Bryce, was born ten months after we had been married. He wasn't planned, but we had no regrets. Four and a half years later, our daughter was born. She had been planned, almost down to the date of her delivery. I had a vasectomy six months after Paige's birth.

Linda didn't have a driver's license and her fear of leaving the house alone meant that I had to take off from work or classes to come home to take her or the kids to things like doctor appointments.

Shortly after our tenth anniversary, I was recruited to join a well-known Japanese company, which among other things, manufactured components for many of the largest computer and system integration companies around the world. They wanted me to join their team of engineers responsible for supporting major customer accounts. I was responsible for a large geographic area that included Hawaii. While I had an office in Southern California, I was seldom in it due to the extensive amount of travel that my position required.

The pay and benefits were exceptional and my need to travel two to three times each month forced Linda to come out of her shell more and more so that the kid's schooling and social lives didn't suffer. I was even able to talk her into taking the few classes required for her to receive her GED. I bought her a car as motivation for her to get her driver's license and it worked.

Within just a couple of years, I had been promoted to become the National Manager of Engineering Support, essentially replacing my boss when he moved up in the organization. My travels increased and frequently included international destinations such as Japan, Europe, and various South American countries. Linda had developed an inner ear disorder called Meniere's syndrome, which prevented her from flying, so we never had the opportunity to share any of these destinations, and she categorically refused to let the kids fly without her.

~~~

The limited time that I spent in my Southern California office was typically devoted to administrative tasks and meetings with other department managers. Since I traveled more than anyone else in this company location, my fellow managers would typically come to my office for meetings to make things more convenient during my short stints there.

Needing to review floorplans in one manager's office related to some proposed changes to the building that might affect my office space, I agreed to go to his office to meet with him there. His office door was closed, but I saw who I assumed was his administrative assistant standing on a chair, trying to hang a banner above a doorway congratulating someone for some work-related accomplishment.

I only saw her from the rear, but what a rear it was. She was wearing a black pencil skirt that complimented her slender figure as it went halfway down her calves, and what appeared to be an off-white colored silk blouse. It was a professional outfit, complete with nude pantyhose or stockings and conservative two-inch high heels.

Before I could cough, clear my throat, or do anything else to get her attention, the heel of one of her shoes caught along the piping of the chair's cushion, and she lost her balance. I made the two quick strides necessary for me to reach her just as she fell back into my arms.

She gasped as she fell, and gasped again as she fell into me. I gently positioned her so that she could stand safely on the floor and quickly stepped back to allow her to turn around. When she did, I expected to see an expression of embarrassment, but saw one of annoyance instead.

"Thanks, but your help wasn't really necessary," she said.

Her voice reminded me of laughter even though her expression was so serious. There was no discernable accent, but it reminded me of the lilt often heard from an Irish lass. It was melodic and I instantly wanted to hear more of it. And what was that perfume she was wearing? It was intoxicating.

"I just reacted on instinct," I replied. "I couldn't let you just fall to the floor."

"Oh, I wouldn't have fallen. I've caught myself three times already today."

She appeared to be in her late twenties with medium brunette hair that rested in curls on her shoulders. Her sparkling, dark blue eyes had a natural gleam that reflected any light present, even when she wasn't smiling. Her glory was her face. Her features are so perfect that she didn't have to enhance them with makeup, yet what make-up she did wear was understated and as professional as the rest of her appearance. She had a striking shape with elegant curves as if she was the blueprint for how a woman was supposed to be put together.

I extended my hand and said, "In that case, let me help you climb back onto the chair. I'll just stand by until you're done if you don't mind."

She took my hand and used her other to lift her skirt enough to bend a leg so that she could place that foot onto the chair cushion. She raised her skirt high enough up her thigh that I could establish that she was wearing pantyhose and not stockings.

Without saying anything, she once again returned her focus to the banner. Instinct took over again as I saw her waver backward slightly and my right hand found itself on the small of her back, just above the waistband of her skirt. She glanced down at me but didn't complain or comment before finishing her task.

"You can help me down now if you want."

I extended my hand to her, which she took in one of hers as she placed her other hand on my shoulder and stepped down from the chair.

"Thanks again," she said. "Are you here to see Mr. Allen or just to rescue clumsy women?"

"I'm here to see Joe. He's expecting me."

She moved the chair away from the doorway and opened the door, "Go on in," she said.

It only took about five minutes to review the floorplans with Joe Allen. When I left his office, his administrative assistant wasn't at her desk. I read the nameplate on her desk just to be able to know who she was. "Samantha Soghomonyan". My first thought was that she did not appear to be of Armenian descent but rather reminded me of someone from France. This led me to my second thought, that if that was her married name, she must really be in love with her husband to take a last name like that rather than keeping her maiden name.

~~~

Being in the office so infrequently, I only ran into Samantha two or three times over the next several months, usually while we were both getting something in the break room. We said little to each other beyond polite, professional greetings, and I doubted that she even knew what I did with the company other than travel a lot.

When I worked out of the office, I was generally one of the first people to arrive. It not only put me ahead of the morning rush hour traffic, but it also allowed me to get a jump on communications with my team on the east coast, who were three hours ahead of our California locations. I usually got a pot of coffee started in the break room so that I would have some to drink before everyone else arrived.

It was Monday, and I had just returned to the office from the fall Comdex show in Las Vegas, which was always held during the second week of November. Travel during the rest of the month would be only for an emergency, so it was one of the few times each year when I was assured that I would be home with my family for more than a week.

While the first pot of coffee was brewing that morning, I stood looking out the breakroom window towards the parking lot. Dawn had brightened the sky and it looked like it was going to be another picture-perfect Southern California day. I noticed a person on a bike pulling into the parking lot at an incredible speed and heading back towards the warehouse along the side of the building, but couldn't tell much about them from the fleeting glance I was able to get before they rapidly disappeared.

When the coffee maker stopped brewing, I poured myself a cup and headed out of the breakroom. At the doorway, I almost collided with Samantha as she came rushing in with a bicycle helmet in one hand and an insulated lunch cooler in the other. I avoided spilling any of my coffee, but I don't know how I did it.

"Whoa!" I said. "What's the hurry?"

"Geez, you scared me half to death," Samantha said. "I didn't know anyone else was here in the offices yet."

"It's not even seven o'clock yet," I said. "Why are you here so early?"

Samantha stepped around me and headed for the refrigerator to store her lunch. As she walked past, she said, "I need time to shower and get ready for work after riding my bike in. I try to get in and out of the shower before the warehouse guys get in at eight."

Now, I could understand that. The company encouraged employees to ride their bikes to work, carpool, or to use public transit to demonstrate our commitment to the environment. The only employee showers in the building were in the men's and women's restrooms out in the warehouse, and since there were no female employees currently working in the warehouse, any of the ladies from the office area would be alone in the warehouse while showering.

Seeing Samantha in her bike shorts and sports bra left little to the imagination where her beautiful athletic body was concerned and I'm sure that the guys in the warehouse would be hard-pressed not to make some comments about her if they saw her before her shower. Getting just the slightest glance of Samantha as she was currently dressed would turn any man into a satyr. I was a married man and an executive with the company and I was hard-pressed not to say anything.

"Well, I won't hold you up," I said. "Nice seeing you again."

"You too. What is your name, by the way? I know that you have an office upstairs and that you're not in it very often, but I think it would be nice to be able to address you by your name when we do run into each other."

I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out one of my business cards and presented it to her, then said, "I'm Allen Janson. Everyone calls me 'AJ'."

"Thanks, AJ," she said with a smile as she slipped my business card into the elastic waist of her shorts and quickly left the break room. Images of someone slipping dollar bills into the G-string of a stripper came to mind, but I quickly banished them.

Two days later, I had an evening conference call with Japan scheduled, so I was working late in the office waiting for the time to join the call. It was a little after five in the afternoon when I decided to take a bathroom break so that I wouldn't be tempted during the call. The restrooms were located across the hall from the breakroom where I saw Samantha retrieving her insulated lunch cooler from the refrigerator. She was dressed once more in her bike riding outfit and she smiled when she saw me.

"Hi, AJ, you working late?"

"I'm hanging around for a conference call with Japan in a half hour or so. You heading home?"

"Yep. I'm not in any hurry though. If you've got a few minutes, I would like to ask you a favor."

"Sure, come on up to my office whenever you want."

"Okay, let me just strap this to my bike and I'll be right up."

Even though I am an executive with the company, I didn't have an administrative assistant of my own. I preferred to handle all my travel arrangements myself, and the majority of my communications were either related to contracts that the legal department paralegals would take care of, or personnel-related that I could have Human Resources handle if necessary. The few times when I needed to get a purchase order generated or other administrative task performed, I could usually use one of the other managers' assistants to handle it for me. I think this surprised Samantha when she arrived outside my office and found no one there.

"Is now still good?" she asked as she stuck her head in.

"Of course. Come in and have a seat. What can I do for you?"

Samantha took a seat across my desk from me and said, "You work with the division of the company that has all the computer stuff, right?"

"My team supports the division that sells all the computer components and peripherals, yes."

Samantha smiled to acknowledge that this is what she had meant and said, "My husband has a computer that he uses mostly for homeowner association business. He's the president of our homeowners' association. Anyway, he has been complaining that the printer he uses produces awful looking letters. Something about dots, but that's all I know..."

"He must use a dot matrix printer," I said. "The characters are formed by dots, and he's right, they would look awful for any kind of business correspondence. They're okay for spreadsheets, labels, and the like, plus they're relatively inexpensive, which is probably why most people have them in their homes."

"We make printers better than that, don't we?" Samantha asked.

Our marketing department was a complete waste of human genome. I had been trying to convince upper management for years that if we couldn't even market our products to our own employees so that they knew all that we manufactured, how could we expect to effectively market them to our prospective customers? Employees knew what their own little silo of the company was responsible for and nothing more. Managers knew slightly more from interactions between different departments, but even most of them had serious knowledge gaps about everything our company manufactured.

I addressed Samantha's question, "Yes, and no. We manufacture the 'engine' used in most laser printers, but we don't manufacture the printers themselves, at least not here in North America. The parent company manufactures and markets laser printers for the Japanese domestic market, but doesn't export them."

I recognized the confusion on her face since I had seen it hundreds of times. I tried to clarify things for her, "Are you familiar with any of the Chrysler minivans?

Samantha nodded and said, "It seems like every fifth vehicle on the road is one of them, so yeah."

"Do you know who makes the engine inside all of those minivans?" I asked.

"I would assume that Chrysler makes them," she answered.

"Then you would be wrong. The engines are manufactured by Mitsubishi Motors in Japan. Without the OEM, or original equipment manufacturer engines, the vehicles wouldn't function. We make the OEM laser printer engine that most of the computer manufacturers use in their laser printers, but we don't make the entire printer for them. Mitsubishi has a team that works with Chrysler to make certain that when they install an engine into one of their minivans that the motor mounts match up. My team does essentially the same thing with the companies that buy our OEM laser printer engines."

"Well, that shoots that idea," Samantha said, obviously disheartened.

"What idea is that?" I asked.

"I wanted to get my husband a better printer for a Christmas present..."

"And you thought that I could help you buy one of ours?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

I nodded and considered what Samantha was trying to accomplish. Laser printers at the time were typically priced beyond the reach of the average consumer. Many had proprietary interfaces and only operated under specific operating systems with dedicated print drivers. She would do better to get her husband a daisy wheel printer, but that would limit his ability to print any graphics.

I nodded and said, "Let me do some checking around and see what I might be able to come up with for you. How much were you looking to spend?"

"I could go as high as two hundred dollars," she said.

I think I did a good job of stifling a laugh, although my tongue would not be welcoming any spicy food for several days due to the bite I inflicted on it.

"I'll see what I can do. Why don't you check in with me tomorrow?"

Samantha stood and said, "Thanks, AJ."

As she turned to leave, I asked, "Samantha, do you mind if I ask how far you live from here? I mean, how long is your bike ride?"

"No, I don't mind. It's almost fifteen miles. I ride west a few blocks from here and jump onto the Santa Ana River trail. I take that to Yorba Linda Regional Park and our house is only a few blocks from there."

"I see. How do you get your clothes and stuff here? You always dress very professionally and I don't assume that you carry them on your bike."

Smiling, she said, "I bring my clothes and stuff for each week using my car on Sunday. I have a locker that barely holds five changes of clothes, but I manage."

"So it appears. Do you ride much other than to and from work?"

"Nope. I'm pretty much a sit on my butt homebody which is why I need the exercise that riding to and from work provides."

"You seem to be in pretty good condition, so it looks like you have the right routine worked out. What do you do when it rains or you can't ride your bike home for some reason?"

"The weather here is pretty stable and predictable. I generally know the night before by watching the news whether there might be issues riding to or from work, and if there is any doubt, I drive."

"What about days like today where you've stayed later than normal and it's now almost dark outside?"

Samantha glanced over my shoulder to the window and realized that it had in fact turned pretty dark. "Crap. I have lights on the bike but they work more to let others see me rather than giving me much light to see the road." She checked the time and said, "My husband could come and pick me up, but he will be at an HOA meeting until nine or so..."

"If you don't mind hanging around for about forty-five minutes, I can give you a lift home with your bike," I offered.

"I wouldn't want to take you out of your way," Samantha said. "Where do you live?"

"I live over in Cypress so I could drop you off and then I would be going against traffic if I took the Ninety-One freeway home. My family isn't expecting me home for a couple of hours, so it wouldn't be an imposition at all. I would feel better to know that you weren't riding in the dark, especially along the river trail."

She nodded and said, "Jimmy doesn't like me to ride the river trail early in the morning either, but at least then I can see any of the homeless or others who hang out under the bridges and speed past them before they even know that I'm there. I can't go as fast when it's dark, though."

"It's settled then," I said. "You can either hang out here with me during the call or let me know where you'll be and I'll find you when I am done."

"If you don't mind, I will wait here. There's no one else in the building except the cleaning crew."

"I would welcome your company," I assured her. "What does your husband, I believe you said his name was Jimmy, do for a living and would he use the printer for anything related to work?"

"He's in sales and all he fills out are pre-printed order forms that he is required to use. The company he represents right now manufactures toothbrushes and other dental aids, so he calls on the major grocery and drug store chains in the area to handle their orders and merchandising of the products. Does his work affect you possibly being able to assist with getting him a better printer?"

"If it does, I'll let you know so we can try to find a work-around. You said that he was the president of your homeowners' association?"

"Yeah, I think he likes the power the position gives him. There are only sixty homes in our neighborhood and Jimmy insists on handling the business of the HOA through the board rather than using a management company."

My watch alarm sounded, indicating that it was time for the conference call. I picked up the handset and checked the conference call-in number. Samantha watched me dialing my desk phone and raised an eyebrow. I suspected the reason and said, "I'm calling Japan. International calls involve a few additional numbers than domestic calls do."

She nodded and remained silent as I pushed the button to activate the speaker and replaced the handset on the phone. I then hit the mute button and leaned back in my chair to listen. The agenda for this conference call had been provided several days earlier, so I knew that my participation would be minimal.

Takashi Yoshida, the CEO of our Japanese parent company would be visiting the United States soon after the New Year. His intention was to get a tour of all the manufacturing, warehousing, sales, and service locations across the country. The purpose of this call was to present Taka's planned itinerary and finalize who would be responsible for him at each location.

As far as I was concerned, my role as the CEO's escort during his time in Southern California had become finalized as soon as the vice-president that I reported to informed me of this conference call. That was confirmed for everyone else on the call when we reached the dates for his Southern California visit. Since Taka would begin his visit on the east coast and gradually work his way west, his visit to our area would be his last, as well as his longest before returning to Japan.

Although the conference call was on my phone's speaker, I wasn't sure how much attention Samantha was paying to it. After sitting silently for the first ten minutes watching me take notes, she rose from the chair and began an inspection of my office. She examined every framed certificate on each wall, which included all of my professional credentials, but none of my educational diplomas. She then spent several minutes studying the large wall map of the world which had push-pins indicating places I had traveled to for business.

When I wasn't taking notes, I noticed that Samantha would frequently be standing somewhere in my office, just studying me. Moving around the space seemed almost a purposeful effort on her part which allowed her to view me from different angles. I admitted to myself that she looked good from any angle.

I always appreciated the organization and efficiency that the liaisons in Japan demonstrated with these international calls. The agendas were always followed meticulously and the calls typically ended well before their scheduled time. This one ended ten minutes early. I shut down my computer before standing and grabbing my coat.

"Ready if you are," I said to Samantha. "Is your bike still in the rack by the warehouse employee entrance?"

Samantha stood behind her chair and just nodded. She seemed to be deep in thought as she followed me out of my office, down the stairs, and out to the front parking lot where my Nissan pickup truck sat alone. I unlocked and opened the passenger door for her and said, "I'll drive around to the side and load up your bike rather than having you bring it up here. Sound okay?"

She nodded again and climbed in. I drove us around the building to the bike racks and stopped the truck so that the headlights illuminated the only bike there. I extended my right hand and said, "If you hand me the key for the lock, I'll get your bike loaded and we can get you home."

Opening her door, Samantha said, "I can do it. I wouldn't want you to get your suit dirty from the bike."

Without waiting for a reply, she slid off the seat and headed for her bike. I got out and went to the back of the truck to lower the tailgate for her. As she deftly hefted her bike into the back and rolled it forward to allow the tailgate to close, I noticed that it was a twenty-one-speed mountain bike with a well-padded tractor style seat. Samantha carried her helmet back to the cab and placed it on the floorboard at her feet next to her lunch cooler.

As I got back into the truck, she began giving me directions, "Just take the Fifty-Five freeway to the Ninety-One. If you want to use the carpool lane you will want to get out of it before you make the transition unless you have a transponder for the toll roads."

I pointed to the little square box attached to the lower-left corner of my windshield and said, "I have a transponder, but I assume that you'll have me exiting the Ninety-One at either Imperial Highway or Weir Canyon Road. It can be a bear to get across six lanes from the express lanes during rush hour traffic, so I'll jump out of the carpool lane on the Fifty-Five around Lincoln Avenue."

"Good thinking," Samantha said. "If you get off at Weir Canyon and turn left, it becomes Yorba Linda Boulevard. Our house is only about half a mile north of the freeway."

I drove us to the Dyer Road onramp to the Fifty-Five freeway and quickly merged into the right lane. Samantha remained silent as I gradually worked us over to the left lane just in time to find a legal entrance to the carpool lane.

Satisfied that we were safely on our way in the right direction, Samantha finally spoke, "If I understand right from that conference call, you are going to be responsible for coordinating Mr. Yoshida's visit here in January. Do you need any assistance with anything?"

"Are you offering?" I asked. Man, she sure made my truck smell good.

"I would need to get Mr. Allen's permission, but since you don't have an administrative assistant and it is for the CEO of the company, I'm pretty sure that he would agree to let me help you."

"I appreciate the offer. Tell you what, I'll check with Joe in the morning to make sure that he can spare a few hours of your time on occasion. I'll be putting together a list of tasks that will need to be completed before Mr. Yoshida's visit. If Joe agrees, maybe you can come up to my office tomorrow after lunch and we'll go through the list of tasks to see which you would feel comfortable assisting with."

"Okay, that sounds good. When is your next trip scheduled for?"

We were making good time, driving mostly against the heavier traffic on the southbound Fifty-Five, but that would change once we transitioned to the eastbound Ninety-One. I began pacing us so that I would be in a position to merge out of the carpool lane and into the left-most thru traffic lane when the time came.

"I have to go to Dallas for a couple of days during the second week of December, but that's the only trip scheduled before the end of the year. Preparing for Mr. Yoshida's visit will provide me with an excuse not to travel through most of January."

"My best friend lives in Arlington just west of Dallas," Samantha informed me. "Her and her husband moved there almost two years ago."

"Do you get to see her often?" I asked.

"No. We haven't seen each other since I moved out here from Albuquerque to marry Jimmy three years ago. We do try to talk on the phone at least once a week though."

I made my move to get out of the carpool lane and then looked for openings in the next lane to the right. Once settled, I asked, "Is that where you're originally from?"

"No, I was born and raised near Fort Sill, Oklahoma. My dad was career Army and a drill instructor at Fort Sill until he retired."

"So how did you end up in New Mexico, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I followed my boyfriend at the time from Germany after divorcing my first husband who was stationed there. I was only seventeen when I got married, but I was the youngest girl and my parents wanted me out of the house before my dad retired. I guess they saw marrying me off as their best solution to accomplish that. They convinced me to marry one of the guys on my dad's squad right before he got assigned to Germany. The marriage lasted only nine months before I met Vic. I was working at the base commissary and he offered to take me back to Albuquerque with him once my divorce was final."

Samantha seemed willing to share, so as long as she didn't mind, I would keep asking questions to try to get to know her better. "How did you end up with Jimmy?" I asked.

"Once Vic got out of the Army, he was rudderless. He started drinking to excess and became physically and verbally abusive. I had been working at the Kirtland Air Force Base commissary and left Vic as soon as I had enough money for the deposit on my own apartment. I met Jimmy four years ago when he would come to the commissary to perform merchandising tasks for the houseware products he was representing at the time. We dated for about ten months whenever he was in town. When he took a new job that would limit his territory to Southern California, he asked me to move out here with him. We got married a couple of months later."

"How long have you been working for Joe Allen?"

"Almost three years. How long have you been with the company?"

Chatting with Samantha had made the drive much quicker than I expected. I realized that we were approaching the Weir Canyon exit when I answered her question, "It will be five years in February. You said to turn left towards Yorba Linda Boulevard, correct?"

"Correct. How does your family handle all your traveling? I saw the pictures of your kids on your desk."

"The kids are pretty resilient and I try to always be present for the major events in their lives, so I'm hoping that they don't resent me too much. Bryce just turned fifteen and Paige will be eleven in February. Their attitudes are good, but they are much closer to their mom than to me."

Samantha turned her attention back to our route and said, "There will be a fire station up here on the right. Turn right at the next street after that."

Following her directions, I turned into a small subdivision of cookie-cutter homes. The houses were all sand-colored stucco with red tile roofs. The only differentiating characteristics were in the landscaping of one house versus another. I found the street address that Samantha gave me and pulled into the driveway.

"I really appreciate the lift AJ. If you give me a second to go through the house and open the garage door, I'll get my bike out of the back of your truck."

"It has been my pleasure, Samantha. You go ahead, I'll be waiting here for you."

After she had grabbed her helmet and lunch cooler, Samantha exited the cab of the truck. I saw her pull the elastic band off her wrist with a house key attached to it as she disappeared towards the front door. By the time that the garage door began opening, I had her bike out of the truck and on the driveway for her.

"Thanks again, AJ. I hope to see you tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you too, Samantha. How about if you skip making lunch for yourself tomorrow and let me treat you? I am pretty sure that I'll have an answer about you being able to help me coordinate Mr. Yoshida's visit by lunchtime and it will give us a chance to review the tasks."

"Okay. I was thinking that I would drive into work tomorrow anyway so if your plans change, I can always go to lunch someplace on my own."

"I would never break a lunch date with you or anyone else," I assured her. "I take my commitments seriously."

Samantha laughed and said, "We'll see about that."

On the drive home I turned on the radio in my truck. I had turned it off earlier so that Samantha and I could talk, but now that I was alone, I decided that a little music would take my mind off the lingering scent of her perfume in the truck. The second song I heard seemed to seal my fate. It was "In a Different Light" by Doug Stone and I knew when I heard it that it would be prophetic for me in some way.

Chapter Two

I caught Joe Allen as he was entering the building the next morning. He was more than happy to agree with Samantha assisting me with Mr. Yoshida's visit, but his reasoning was a surprise.

Joe explained, "I don't mean to imply that Samantha is ambitious, but I have never met a person, man or woman, who has a better sense of their value and worth. She knows what she is capable of even if it is something that she has never attempted before. Her poise and self-confidence intimidate a lot of people. Samantha has become overqualified for her current role, and she knows it. I think that allowing her to get involved in other tasks might be the only way that I can prevent her from looking outside the company. She applies for almost every internal position that HR posts that is at a higher grade than hers, but her lack of a degree means that most managers won't even consider her for an interview. I have nominated her twice for the future leaders' program, but no one wants to give her a chance without a college degree."

I found it interesting that several of the traits that Joe had listed for Samantha were ones that I had recognized during our brief times together. There was one other trait that I recognized but Joe failed to mention, and that was 'passion'. I sensed that Samantha held a great deal of passion for people, places, or things that she believed deserved it. I couldn't speak to anything specific at that time, but from what Joe had mentioned, I wouldn't be surprised if her career was something that she would feel passionate about.

I said to Joe, "If you can spare her this afternoon, I'd like to review the tasks that I need to complete for Mr. Yoshida's visit with her. Before we decide on anything specific for her to help with, I'll run everything by you first to make certain that her schedule will accommodate them without impacting your team."

"That sounds fine. Things always slow down for us during the holidays so I'm sure that she will appreciate having things to keep her busy. She's all yours after lunch. I'll let her know to go see you."

"Thanks, but ask her to just call me when she's ready for lunch. I promised to treat her if you agreed to let her help me."

"You got it," Joe said. "Try to keep her happy. She's not an employee I would want to lose. Oh, and one more thing, never call her 'Sam'. She hates that and will ignore you if you address her by anything other than her full first name."

I shook his hand and said, "Good to know and I'll do my best. Thanks again."

When I returned to my office, I opened up a new Excel spreadsheet and created a project management table that listed the dates of Taka's visit and the locations that he wanted to see. I had it populated with specific tasks related to each of the locations, such as identifying the optimum time of the day to tour the facility, who the contact at each location would be, and the duration. I then spent the rest of the morning contacting each of the managers that I had listed as the site contact to verify their acceptance of the assignment.

My desk phone rang at eleven-forty-eight. "Allen Janson," I answered.

"Hi, AJ, this is Samantha. Are we still on for lunch?"

"Of course. Are you ready to go?"

"I am. Do you want me to come up there or meet you downstairs in the lobby?"

"It would be easier for me to come down to the lobby. I'll be right there."

"I'm on my way too. See you soon."

I left my suit jacket in my office and headed down the stairs leading to the lobby. Samantha was just entering the lobby from the hallway when I arrived. She looked as beautifully professional as ever in a sleeveless tan dress with white trim and matching heels. She carried the jacket that matched the dress and which would complete her ensemble when worn.

"Good timing," I said.

Her smile was mesmerizing as she strode towards me. "I'm all yours for the rest of the workday, however long that is. Where do you want to go for lunch?"

I held the doors to the parking lot open for her as I said, "I'm open for almost anything. Is there something that you haven't had recently or new that you want to try?"

"If you don't have any place specific in mind, can I make a suggestion?" she asked as I opened the passenger door for her.

"I would love to hear your suggestion," I said.

She waited until I had walked around my truck and taken my seat before speaking, "If you don't mind, could we go to the Maggiano's on Bristol down by South Coast Plaza?"

"Of course, I love that place, but there are Italian restaurants closer."

For the first time, Samantha seemed unsure of herself when she said, "I know, but I think it would be better if we ate lunch someplace not too close to the office. There would less chance of anyone from the company seeing us together and starting some gossip."

I knew exactly the kind of gossip that Samantha was referring to. Even being in the office as infrequently as I was, I still was aware of the rumors that got circulated when someone suspected that a couple of their coworkers were sharing time together for something other than business. More often than not, the rumors were false and the employees in question were as innocent as Samantha and I were in having lunch together today, but I could understand her concern, especially if she had been trying to get a position within a different group.

"We'll be as discrete as possible," I assured her. "But if anyone gives you flak over being seen with me, let me know."

She smiled warmly and said, "I'm more concerned about your reputation than mine."

I laughed and said, "I don't think there is much that being seen with you could do to hurt my reputation. Everyone already knows that I'm an asshole and overbearing tyrant."

Samantha laughed and said, "You are not! You are one of the most trusted and respected executives with the company. Everyone considers you the 'Go-To Guy' for almost any problem that needs a solution."

"Been checking up on me, have you?"

With a small degree of pride, she said, "I've done my homework. I didn't want to ask you for the favor I did without having some idea of how you would respond."

"Thanks for reminding me," I said. "If you can keep it between the two of us so that I don't have others asking for the same favor, I think I have a solution for you getting your husband a laser printer. It won't be brand new, and he'll have to come through me if it ever needs service or supplies, but otherwise, it should be the solution you were looking for."

"How much will it cost me?" Samantha asked in amazement.

"Nothing. It's the least I can do to repay you for helping me with Mr. Yoshida's visit. The printer is an engineering sample from Japan that was shown at a few recent trade shows. It can't be sold and Japan doesn't want to pay to have it shipped back, so I can either dispose of it or find another use that doesn't require it to have all the regulatory certifications. I use one very similar to it in my office. I'll need to get new firmware for it so that the operation panel display is in English instead of Japanese, but I already have that on its way. It should be here next week. Your husband uses Windows 3.1 on his computer, doesn't he?"

"Yes, the same as we use in the office. This isn't illegal or anything that might get you in trouble is it?"

"Nope. Like I said, without the Underwriters Laboratory seal and other regulatory certifications, the printer can't be sold. The laser printer engine inside it is the same as the one used by a couple of our major customers so I will need to go through them for any parts or supplies that might ever be needed, but as long as Jimmy doesn't try to claim a purchase of the thing on his taxes or eventually try to sell it to someone else, there's no problem with him using it indefinitely."

Samantha was nodding in understanding and then asked, "Will it come with any documentation or instructions?"

"No, but I can teach you or Jimmy everything you would need to know. When it's ready, I'll deliver it to your house and set it up on his computer for you."

"I kind of still want to give it to him as a Christmas present," Samantha explained. "Will I be able to get a box for it so it can be wrapped?"

I answered while I tried to locate a parking spot for us at Maggiano's, "The box that it shipped from Japan in is pretty beat up but I should be able to get the guys in the warehouse to help me find a suitable replacement. You give Jimmy the printer on Christmas and then let me know when you want me to come over and set it up for him."

As I pulled into the parking space and shifted the truck into park, Samantha placed her hand on top of mine and said, "Thank you, AJ. Now I have two-hundred dollars to spend on a nice Christmas gift for you."

"Don't you dare!"

~~~

Samantha's silver Honda CRX was sitting in the parking lot of the In-N-Out Burger location in Costa Mesa when I pulled in. We had been having lunch together almost daily since Maggiano's, but since that day, we always drove separately and one of us would always leave the company parking lot a few minutes before the other. Even this week, the one between Christmas and New Years', when our company was technically closed, she and I would share our lunchtime and review the project tasks for Mr. Yoshida's visit, or just talk about our lives.

A woman of true beauty need be only herself, lovely and open, warm and smiling; casting a gentle spell of support to those in need. In Samantha, I discovered someone who was teaching me how incomplete I was without our brief interludes. I was letting her in, seeing myself through her eyes, and my own perceived worth was getting tied up in her confidence in, and support of me.

The skies were overcast and threatening what amounted to rain in Southern California, so when I saw that Samantha's car was unoccupied, I headed for the inside seating area. Some may find it hard to believe, but I had never been to an In-N-Out Burger until Samantha introduced me to them just before Thanksgiving. While we didn't eat there exclusively, it had quickly become our default location if we couldn't decide on anyplace else.

I saw Samantha sitting at a table reviewing her copy of the project spreadsheet. We were both dressed casually, but there was never anything casual about the way that Samantha looked. Her poise and self-confidence, mixed with her classic beauty and style elevated her appearance regardless of how she dressed. I had come to appreciate her intelligence, including how she frequently changed gears in an instant and left me with comic mental whiplash.

Her smiling eyes had been following me since she saw me enter. I took a seat across from her and asked, "Are we still on for this afternoon?"

"Let me go order for us and then we can discuss things," she said.

Without waiting for a reply, she got up and went to the counter to place our order. I had been married to Linda for more than fifteen years and I knew without a doubt that there wasn't any restaurant in the world where she would have been able to order for me. Samantha had mastered my preferences at every establishment that we had been to together over the past month.

She returned shortly and took her seat across from me. "Sorry. To answer your question, Jimmy is supposed to be home by three this afternoon. Any time after that should be fine, but I'll page you when he gets home just to be safe."

"That's fine," I said. "Linda and Paige will be at some play with their Girl Scout troop, or whatever they call it, and Bryce is spending the day at the arcade with some friends. I won't be missed, believe me. So, is Jimmy excited to get the printer installed and set up?"

"I had to hide the power cord to keep him from trying to connect it to the computer himself," Samantha said with a laugh. Then she turned serious and said, "You seem kind of down today. What happened, did Santa leave you a lump of coal in your stocking or something?"

I forced a smile and said, "No, Santa brought me the traditional husband gifts of socks and underwear and the kids got me the tradition dad gift of a tie."

"Then what's wrong? Something at work?"

"It may be nothing, so I would rather hold off discussing it until I know more if that's okay. I'm expecting a fax at the office this afternoon that will confirm whether or not I have anything to worry about."

"Can you stay for dinner after setting up the printer for Jimmy? If you are going to have something to worry about, maybe we could try to find a solution for you then."

"I don't think so. Maybe I can take you and Jimmy out to dinner sometime though."

"With Linda?" she asked.

I shook my head, "Unlikely. Linda doesn't do dinner with another couple well. She's fine if it's just her and me, but with anyone else present, she becomes opinionated and believes that she is omniscient on all matters. It gets pretty embarrassing for everyone, except her of course."

"I didn't realize that she was lacking in social skills," Samantha said. "I assumed that since you told me that she was a room mother for Paige's class as well as her Girl Scout troop leader that she..."

"Those environments have her relating almost exclusively with kids, which she does okay for the most part. She is the head room mother and leads the Girl Scout troop so she is the Alpha female in those instances. I don't know if it is her insecurities regarding her former agoraphobia or the influence of her mother, but she feels that she needs to exert her opinions onto every other adult that she interacts with. She lacks a throttle on her opinion engine."

Samantha slid the receipt for our order across the table to me as the sign that I should go pick it up from the counter. I smiled in acknowledgment and went to retrieve our food. I brought the tray back to the table and all conversation was paused as we feasted on our food.

Watching Samantha eat was always an adventure. She was the neatest consumer of anything edible that I had ever seen. It's not like she was obsessively careful or took extreme measures to avoid making a mess. It was a reflection of her natural style and grace that must have conveyed to whatever she was eating that she was in complete command and would not tolerate even a drip of sauce from her burger. I never saw her soil a napkin during or after a meal.

We spent a half-hour after finishing our lunch to review the project task list. Samantha had agreed to handle the hotel accommodations and transportation for Mr. Yoshida to and from the airport. As she provided me with the details on her arrangements, I had to interrupt her.

"The Doubletree Hotel is fine," I said, "but tell them that the room can't be comped for Mr. Yoshida. He is a stickler for avoiding anything that might be viewed as unethical or of a preferential nature due solely to his position. We need to make certain that any gifts that he receives while here follow the Japanese gifting customs and not ours. Small tokens of respect are fine, but nothing over the top."

Samantha nodded and said, "Got it. I'll make sure his reservation gets corrected. What else?"

"See if the hotel can put him in something other than a suite, and definitely nothing better than his two assistants will be staying in. When Mr. Yoshida learns that this is the hotel that all of our visiting employees, customers, and business partners use, he will want to experience the same level of accommodations that they would normally receive. Also arrange to have the hotel shuttle pick him up from the airport instead of a limo service. If I'm not available to take him back to the airport when he is departing, he can take the hotel shuttle back."

"Or I could drive him," Samantha offered.

I smiled and said, "Not in your little sports car, you can't. Remember that there will be three of them traveling together."

"I suppose you're right, but what about you and your truck? Wouldn't you have the same issue?"

"The extended cab has two flip-down seats. My kids ride on them all the time. Being from Japan, Mr. Yoshida and his assistants will be familiar with the seating arrangements in my truck and have no problem with them."

"You know best."

I smiled at her and said, "There's another thing that I would like your help with..."

"Sure, what's that?"

"I have requested that the contact at each location create a presentation for Mr. Yoshida that describes what their organization or department does that aligns with the corporate mission statement and core values. I know that a few are going to focus on their business results instead, and I'll deal with those myself. I would like you to review each of the presentations as someone not intimately familiar with what most of the other locations do to see if they are providing a clear understanding of where they fit into the overall corporate picture."

"Surely Mr. Yoshida has a better understanding of what each group does that I do," Samantha said.

"I know for a fact that he does," I agreed, "but he will want to see how the groups perceive themselves as part of the corporate family. I have heard from managers in Europe where Mr. Yoshida toured over the summer that he voiced dissatisfaction with what he was shown by them. He can read spreadsheets and financial reports himself. What he wants to be shown is whether people believe in what they do for the company."

"Okay, I can do that. I'll stop by the hotel on the way home and make all the changes. Anything else?"

"You can't do that," I told her. "You are an hourly employee who is not scheduled to work this week. Meeting me for lunch and reviewing the spreadsheet could already be viewed as a violation of California labor laws, but handling business with the hotel while off the clock is a very clear violation of those as well as company policy. It can wait until next week."

"Okay, I understand, but as far as our meeting today is concerned, it can't be considered work-related if you allow me to give you the Christmas present that I got for you now rather than while at my house."

I chuckled and said, "Then I guess I should give you the gift I have for you now as well. It's in my truck. Come on."

Samantha smiled her brightest smile as she took my hand to help her from her seat and walked beside me to the parking lot.

"I need to get your present out of my car," she said. "I'll meet you at your truck in a second."

I nodded and headed for my truck. Samantha had joined me by the time I had unlocked the driver side door. She followed me around to the passenger side where I unlocked and held the door open for her. She settled onto the seat with a wrapped box on her lap before closing her door. I returned to the driver's side and reached behind the seat to retrieve the wrapped present I had placed there before taking my seat and closing the door.

We exchanged the wrapped packages and she said, "You go first."

"Why don't we do it together?" I asked with a grin.

Samantha's eyes showed me more affection than I had ever seen from my wife when she said, "Because I want to watch you and I want you to watch me. Please go first."

Without replying I began removing the ribbon and bow from the package. Like everything else I had seen from Samantha, the wrapping job on the package appeared professional and performed with obvious pride. I didn't want to disrespect the effort that Samantha had put into the wrapping job, but I could also sense her growing impatience as I tried to remove the wrapping without damaging her work.

I finally had all the wrapping removed from the plain white box. It was your typical shirt gift box and as I lifted the top off, I saw that it was serving its intended function. Underneath the precision folded tissue paper was a light blue long-sleeve dress shirt.

"I hope you don't mind," Samantha said. "All I've ever seen you wear are white dress shirts, so I thought that you might want to try a little color for a change."

I laughed and said, "I would love to, but maybe I should explain why I have only worn white shirts, until now that is."

"I'm listening," she said with a grin.

"Well, the first reason is that I get up early, as you know. I always try to be considerate of Linda still being asleep in our bedroom while I get dressed, so I leave the lights off. Not being able to see too well in the dark, I decided long ago to stick with white shirts so that I wouldn't have to worry about coordinating colors. I have brown, black, blue, and gray suits, which white shirts all go with. The same thing with ties; white shirts will generally handle whichever tie I pick out for the day."

Nodding in understanding, Samantha said, "I guess it makes sense when you get dressed at home, but what about when you travel? Do you pack your suitcase in the dark or get dressed in the dark at your hotel?"

"No, but it does eliminate any need for coordination of things when I pack if I stick to just white shirts. I suppose it has just become routine, but I will break out of my rut to wear this shirt, I promise. Now open your gift."

Samantha was beaming as she tore open the wrapping on her present. Obviously, my wrapping didn't deserve the same respect as hers did. She quickly reached the point where she could see what was inside the wrapping and I saw a tear appear at the corner of her eye.

"I can't believe that you remembered," Samantha said as she finished unwrapping the boxed personalized stationery set. It had been our second or third lunch when she had mentioned that she had been taught to always acknowledge someone's kindness with a written thank you and told me that she had already started thinking about what she was going to write to thank me for letting her work on Mr. Yoshida's visit with me.

"Of course, I remembered. It helped that I had to stop that very same day at an Ace Hardware store and there was a Hallmark store in the same center where I could get that set ordered for you before it slipped my mind."

Samantha turned in her seat to face me more fully and said, "Thank you, AJ. Now the only question is scented or unscented?"

I'm certain that she saw the confused expression on my face because she quickly clarified her question, "Do you want my notes to you to be scented with perfume or unscented?"

In the days before cell phones became common, a lot of girlfriends and wives had become accustomed to their men often coming home with the smell of a strange perfume on them. All it took was for the man to use a payphone or some woman's work phone to have the last perfume that the phone was exposed to transferred to the man's hand and ear. Linda had become immune to the smell of strange perfume on me over a decade prior.

Seduction doesn't always wear a little black dress. It doesn't need high heels or a short hemline. From our very first encounter, Samantha's perfume had stimulated me in a way that no woman's scent ever had. I understood enough about the science behind perfumes to recognize that they generally smelled different on a woman than they did when spritzed in the air or onto paper. I knew that Samantha's perfume scent, regardless of where I smelled it would affect me the same way every time.

Though I would never act upon it as things currently stood between us, it was impossible for me not to be attracted to Samantha. I had been since our first encounter when I caught her falling from the chair. I had been attracted to a lot of women over the years, but Samantha presented me with the greatest struggle to resist the attraction I had ever faced.

"What is the name of your perfume?" I asked out of curiosity.

"It's called 'Tabu'," Samantha said with a grin that told me that she knew the effect it had on me and that she appreciated it.

"How appropriate," I thought. I made my decision, "Let's stick with unscented."

The disappointment in Samantha's eyes was brief, but I saw it none the less. I said, "Your fragrance is a treat for me. It's part of your presence and I would like to keep those times special. Are you okay with that?"

"Of course. I consider my time with you special too. You've become someone very dear to me, AJ, and it bothers me to see you as melancholy as you have been today. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to make things better for you."

I nodded and squeezed her hand in mine, "Thanks Samantha, I appreciate that. I better get back to the office and see if the fax has arrived. I promise to share more with you later today when I come by your house."

I got out of my truck, set the shirt box onto the driver's seat, and walked around to open Samantha's door for her. I was surprised when she stepped out of the truck and moved towards me. As her body moved against mine, she placed her arms around me and her head against my chest for our first embrace. I returned her embrace by hugging her tightly.

A low mewing moan escaped from her as I held her. The embrace didn't last as long as either of us would have wanted. As I walked Samantha back to her car, I sensed that she wanted to say something, but she remained silent. She unlocked her door so I could open it for her.

She turned and looked up at me. The hint of tears was once again present in her eyes as she stretched up and place a gentle kiss onto my cheek. She asked, "Can I call you at your office when I get home?"

"You can try, but depending on what the fax reveals, I might not be there very long before I have to leave to take care of some things."

"Okay, but I miss being able to talk to you. If I can't catch you in your office, I'll page you when Jimmy gets home, unless you want to just come over when you're done taking care of whatever you have to do."

I smiled down at her and said, "I think it would be best if I wait until your husband is home to visit your house. We wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong impression about my visit."

Samantha pouted and said, "It's not fair that a man and woman can't have an open friendship without someone getting the wrong idea."

I kissed her gently on her forehead and said, "We both know that the fact that we are both married complicates our relationship and how others see it. Let's continue to be considerate of other people's feelings and things will be fine. I'll see you later today, I promise."

She slid into her seat and said, "Okay, AJ. Drive safe."

I closed her door as she started the car. I remained standing in place as she backed out of her space and headed for the exit. Once her car had disappeared from view, I returned to my truck and drove back to my office.

~~~

The page arrived just as I was beginning to back out of the parking space at my bank, so I pulled back in to check my pager.

"07734"

I glanced at the pager message and smiled. Samantha knew that my pager would support alphanumeric messages but she insisted on sending only the numbers that when read upside down would spell, "hELL0". It usually came only when I was traveling and meant that she wanted me to call her at her desk number. Today it meant that she was telling me that her husband was home and I should head over to install the printer for him.

I checked the time. It was just after two-thirty so Jimmy must have really busted his tail to complete all of his sales calls today in order to get home to have his new printer installed. I sighed and began what should be about a twenty-minute drive at this time of day.

I pulled into their driveway twenty-five minutes later and parked next to Samantha's Honda. They must have heard me pull in and been waiting because, by the time I exited my truck and locked the door, Samantha was standing on the walkway to their front door next to this bean pole of a guy.

Samantha didn't hesitate to place her arms around me for a friendly embrace. I held her with my left hand as I extended my right hand towards the man that I assumed was her husband, Jimmy. He had a warm smile as he shook my hand and introduced himself.

"I'm glad to finally meet you, AJ. Samantha speaks highly of you all the time. Come on in."

Samantha looped her arm through mine as we followed Jimmy up the walkway and through the front door. As soon as the door closed, I glanced down at Samantha with a raised eyebrow and a questioning expression.

"What?" she asked, leading me further into their home.

I glanced around the open concept floorplan and asked, "How did you manage to get the developer to let you live in one of their model homes?"

Jimmy chuckled, but Samantha playfully slapped my chest and said, "Don't be silly. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No thanks." I turned to Jimmy and asked, "Ready to get your printer installed?"

"Boy, am I ever. I already have a flyer for the community New Years' Eve celebration ready to be printed so I can distribute them today. Follow me."

Samantha squeezed my hand and said, "I'll wait down here unless you need to show me something."

"I think we'll be good," I assured her. "This should only take a few minutes."

I followed Jimmy upstairs and into the room that he used as his home office. His computer was already booted and running, so I inserted the diskette that had the required print drivers on it. I saw that Jimmy had already plugged the parallel printer cable in on both the computer and the printer, so I hit the power switch on the printer to get it warming up. Nothing happened. That's when I heard the huffing and puffing of Samantha as she ran upstairs and into the office carrying the power cord that she had hidden.

"I forgot that you would need this," she said with a sheepish grin.

I laughed, plugged the power cord in, and hit the power switch again. The tell-tale signs of the printer coming to life caused Jimmy to applaud.

As I sat down in front of the computer and opened a DOS prompt, I tried to explain what I was doing; "The next and most difficult tasks are getting the computer and the operating system to first recognize that the printer is connected to it, and then to know how to communicate with it. That's where the print drivers come in. The low-level driver accomplishes the first task while the high-level driver accomplishes the second one. You shouldn't have to worry about them once I get them installed, but if you make any changes to your computer, such as changing the operating system, I'll probably have to come back with new drivers."

While the drivers were being installed, I observed the interactions between Jimmy and Samantha, or I should say, the lack of interaction. They both stood silently watching the process, but there was never any physical contact between them and they barely acknowledge the presence of the other.

I can accept the adage that love is blind, but for someone who looked like Samantha to be married to the likes of Jimmy was hard to fathom for me. Sure, the sun always outshined the moon, but Jimmy had to be at least ten to fifteen years older than her, and unless he had a billion-dollar trust fund waiting in the wings or was endowed like a stallion, there is no way that these two should be together. He was so boney that it looked like a light breeze would blow him away. His eyes were beady and set deep in their dark sockets. His olive-colored skin was pitted from acne and his nose easily took up a third of his face. For some reason, he just seemed smarmy to me, but I wasn't the one married to him.

I'm not going to be featured on the cover of GQ magazine any time in my life, and I'm certainly not a male equivalent to Samantha where looks are concerned, but I have seldom had trouble attracting the attention of women when I needed to, and staved off my share of flirtatious come-ons over the years. I have a runner's physique even though my travels typically limit my exercise to a half hour or less on a stationary bike in a hotel's fitness center. My six-foot-tall body isn't sculpted, but my shoulders are broad and my waist remains at the same thirty-two inches as when I was in college. Most people are surprised to learn that I am thirty-five since I look years younger.

When the driver installation was completed, I went into the Windows 3.1 system properties and quickly configured the printer as the default, replacing the previous dot matrix printer, and then generated a test page to verify the setup.

I removed the diskette and handed it to Jimmy as I stood, "Try to find someplace to hold onto this in case we need to re-install the drivers for any reason."

"Is it all set?" Jimmy asked as he sat in front of his computer.

"It sure is," I assured him as I felt Samantha move to stand beside me. "Give it a try."

Jimmy pulled up the flyer that he had created and tried printing it out on the new printer. He had designed it on a free-ware application that had tried to manipulate characters and fonts to print out on dot matrix printers so the resulting output from the laser printer was poor, to say the least.

"I suggest that you start over after closing the application and restarting it," I explained. "Then make sure that you set the design configuration settings for a laser printer instead of the dot matrix."

Jimmy nodded and then glanced over his shoulder at Samantha and said, "I'll probably skip dinner so I can get this done and handed out tonight. If I get hungry later I'll just make a sandwich."

He then turned back to his computer and tuned out the rest of the world. Samantha silently took my hand and led me out of the office, closing the door behind us. It wasn't until we reached the foot of the stairs that she spoke, "I apologize for Jimmy. I know that he really appreciates the printer and everything you have done, but he sometimes gets tunnel vision where the HOA is concerned."

"It's not a problem," I assured her.

"That didn't take as long as I expected," she said, leading me into their living room area. The place really was model-home clean and decorated. She took a seat on the couch and motioned for me to join her. When I sat on the opposite end of the couch, she folded her legs under her and turned to face me.

Samantha had an expression of almost sadness on her face when she said, "Just so you know, I was able to resist the urge to try calling you in your office today, but it wasn't easy."

I nodded and said, "It's just as well. I wasn't there longer than fifteen minutes before I had to leave."

"Did you receive the fax that you were expecting?"

I nodded again but didn't elaborate. She slid closer to me, took my left hand, and held it on her lap in both of hers. "What's wrong, AJ?"

I took the folded fax out of my shirt pocket and handed it to her. She had to release my hands to unfold the slick thermal paper that the fax was printed on.

"This is a credit card statement," Samantha said, "or a facsimile image of a credit card statement. What am I looking for?"

"Check the balance," I told her, "then check the credit limit."

It only took her a second, "It's pretty much maxed out. I assume that you weren't aware of the balance."

"I hardly ever use that card," I told her. "I have one in my name only that I use exclusively for travel expenses. Linda uses the joint card and since she handles the majority of our bills due to my traveling, I never knew that she was running the balance up so high and not paying it off each month like we had agreed when we got it."

"Have you asked her for an explanation?"

"No, and I'm not sure that one is necessary. I received a call from the bank this morning asking if they wanted me to have our credit limit raised. That's what alerted me to the need to look into things. Upon further investigation, I've learned that our checking account has less than five-hundred dollars in it and our joint savings account has less than two-thousand. Take a look at the last two charges on the card."

After a quick glance, Samantha asked, "You don't own a motorcycle, do you? Why would Linda be charging eight-hundred dollars for service and six-hundred dollars for a new leather jacket at a Harley-Davidson dealership?"

"I called the dealership to ask those very same questions. She paid for the motorcycle of one Cosmo Glover to be serviced and then bought him the jacket as a Christmas present. She buys her husband socks and underwear valued at less than twenty dollars for Christmas but buys her lover a six-hundred dollar leather jacket."

"Her lover? She's cheating on you with this guy and buying him expensive gifts? She has to know that you would eventually find out."

"From what our friendly next-door neighbors told me, quite gloatingly, by the way, their dear friend Cosmo Glover has been hanging the horns on me for the past six months. Our neighbors introduced Linda to him and have been letting them use their house to do the deed while my kids were at school or home alone next door."

"Oh, AJ, that sucks. What are you going to do?"

She handed me back the fax. I folded it and replaced it in my pocket. "I haven't had time to figure everything out yet. Tonight, I will be staying in a motel. Tomorrow I will hitch up our sixteen-foot travel trailer and take it to a friend's place down near Midway City. His property is in an unincorporated section of the county so I will be able to park the trailer there without violating any city ordinances. He used to park his RV in a fenced area beside his house so I will have all the necessary hook-ups available which will allow me to call the trailer home for the foreseeable future."

"Why not just go to one of the RV campgrounds near Disneyland?" Samantha asked.

"Have you seen the rates those places charge? It would cost me the same as a four-star hotel to park the trailer at one of those places. My financial situation is not good right now and until I get with a lawyer to discuss my options where Linda is concerned, I need to be very frugal with what I have."

"Do you think that you'll be filing for a divorce?"

'Oh, you can count on that," I replied. "I need to know how to accomplish that and protect my relationship with my kids without paying for this biker guy to have sex with my wife at the same time."

"If there is anything that I can do..."

"You know, it's not the fact that Linda is having sex with this guy that bothers me, it's the fact that she is destroying our finances in the process. I would have given her a divorce any time she asked for it and been fair in the distribution of our assets. What she has done jeopardizes our kid's future as well as ours. I don't understand her thinking."

Samantha glanced towards the stairs before once more taking my left hand into hers and softly saying, "AJ, I am twenty-nine years old and in my second loveless marriage. Since there have never been children involved in either marriage, the divorces proceeded without any difficulty..."

"I thought that you had only been divorced once, from your first husband who was in the Army."

Samantha dropped her voice almost to a whisper and said, "Jimmy will be served next week while I am at work. Oh, and there's something else I should tell you, but you need to promise to keep it to yourself."

"What's that?" I asked.

"I wanted to tell you sooner, but I have been sworn to secrecy. Joe Allen has accepted a position as the Regional Service Director with Oculus Filtration Systems. The first week in January will be his last in our office and he doesn't want anyone to know, so please don't mention anything if you see him."

"I'll keep your secret," I assured Samantha.

"There's more. This afternoon Joe called and offered me a position as the region service marketing specialist and I accepted. I will be giving my two weeks' notice when I return to the office on Monday."

"Wow," I said after several seconds contemplating Samantha's news. "It's strange how life works sometimes. While my world is trying its damndest to crumble down around me, yours is blossoming beautifully. Knowing that you will be secure and happy is one of the few bright spots in my day. I hope that we will be able to stay in touch."

Samantha released my hands and said, "Will you excuse me for a minute?"

Without waiting for a reply, she stood and walked down the hallway. I heard a door close, which I assumed was to a bathroom since I soon heard water running. Samantha returned after a few minutes and resumed her position beside me, including taking my hand into hers. When I looked into her eyes, I realized that she was just as beautiful without her makeup as she was with it on.

We both heard the door to Jimmy's office open and glanced towards the stairs. Samantha didn't release my hands or alter her position next to me on the couch as Jimmy came skipping down the stairs.

"The flyers look great off the new printer," he gushed. "I'm going to go hand them out at each of the houses. I'll probably get stopped by several people to chat about the celebration, so I'll be out for at least three hours. If I'm not back by the time you leave, AJ, thanks again."

Neither Samantha nor I had an opportunity to respond before Jimmy rushed out the front door. Samantha just shook her head and returned her attention back to me.

"AJ, I need you to know that my decision to split from Jimmy was made long before you and I got to know each other. That being said, while my feelings for you did not influence my decision on my marriage, they, along with what you just shared with me have influenced my hopes for my future."

I started to speak but Samantha placed a finger against my lips to silence me. "Please let me finish before you say anything."

I nodded and she went on, "What I have felt with you, AJ, is unlike anything I have ever experienced, but I didn't know how to describe it until today when you hugged me. My God, if you could ever bottle the way that you hugged me, you could sell it for millions. I don't know if anyone has ever told you, but your hugs are world-class and I want to have an opportunity to experience them for the rest of my life."

I gently removed my hand from hers and opened my arms. Samantha recognized the invitation and moved in closer so that I could hold her as she continued. "What your embraces give me is what I think every person wants to feel, and that is not to feel simply secure and loved, but truly feel appreciated and wanted. Your embraces are almost spiritual in nature in the way that they make me feel. You make me feel like I matter to you, and that is something that I have never felt with anyone else, even my parents."

"Both of our lives are going to be complicated for the foreseeable future; yours with your marriage and financial issues and mine with my marriage and a new career. All I can promise you, AJ, is that I will do everything that I can to be there for you at any time. Now you can speak."

I chuckled at her granting me permission and almost said, "Mother may I?" Instead, I positioned myself so that Samantha would be able to lean against my chest as she rested her head under my chin. Her arms were crossed in front of her breasts with my arms over hers while holding her against me, with her long shapely legs stretched across the couch. She felt wonderful in my arms, but the benefit to this position was that it made kissing her lips nearly impossible, and kissing her lips is something that I really wanted to do right then.

"Samantha, you are the most intelligent, insightful, considerate, and stimulating woman I have ever known. Simply thinking of you is the greatest entertainment I have ever experienced. You bring me laughter and joy without even trying, and have more inner strength and wisdom than someone three times your age. Appreciate you? Hell yes, I appreciate you. Given time and under the right circumstances, I could end up worshipping you."

"All that being said, we need to be wary of becoming a burden to one another while the events of our lives play out over the next several months. I'm glad that I wasn't an influence in your decision about your marriage, and I want things to remain that way during the legal process to ensure that our relationship doesn't present you with any challenges should Jimmy choose to raise them. I'm not sure what direction mine and Linda's divorce will take, but we need to have the same consideration there."

"Next, there's your new job. You are going to be trying to establish yourself in a new role with a new company. I don't want to become a distraction for you there either. We may have to limit our visits with each other to the weekends for a while."

"Finally, there is my precarious financial situation. I'm not concerned about food and housing because I will have the trailer for when I'm not traveling. Over the years I have accumulated a reserve from unused per diem payments of more than ten thousand dollars, which is an account that Linda won't be able to touch, even in the divorce. I'll probably have to tap into that reserve to pay a retainer to an attorney, but I'll still have more than enough to get by until things are settled with the house, support payments, and so on."

I felt her tears as they fell onto my arms. Her anticipation of them is why she had removed her makeup.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Samantha sniffled and said, "Hell no, I'm not okay. I want so badly to take you upstairs to my bed and make love to you that I can barely stand it. I have such a need to be with you and it's a struggle to avoid acting on it, right here and now. Do you know that when we were together today and you hugged me in that parking lot, I would have stripped naked and made love to you on the hood of my car if you would have only asked? I understand that we need to be discrete, responsible, and supportive of one another, but I'm really going to need your help, AJ. Where you are concerned, my flesh is too weak when I am with you. You have to have noticed that since you hugged me that I haven't been able to keep my hands off of you."

I kissed the top of her head and said, "Well, I would hate to have to avoid you until our situations are more stable, so I guess we should limit our encounters to places that will provide the needed restriction to our mutual desires."

Samantha tilted her head back to look up at me and smiled, "Mutual desires, huh? That's encouraging, but I want to hear more about these needed restrictions."

I laughed and pulled her onto my lap. I said, "Since you would consider stripping naked and making love to me in a parking lot, I'm going to have to think about places where we could be together where the environment would limit our ability to pursue our desire for each other. Do you have any suggestions?"

Samantha put her arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, "The way that I feel right now, I can promise you that when I say 'any place and any time', I mean it. However, the reality is that once I have a chance to cool off and regain my composure, most public places would keep my carnal desires for you at bay. That's not to say that I wouldn't want some degree of intimacy to be possible between us. I think I've made my new found addiction to your hugs clear. I also like the way that my hand feels in yours, and I suspect that once my lips meet yours, I'll want to be able to kiss you on a regular basis. Let's see..."

I reacted faster than she had anticipated. With her eyes closed, her lips expected to meet mine. Instead, she found the palm of my hand.

"Un uh, Mrs. Soghomonyan," I laughed. "I want to kiss you just as badly, or probably even more, but you said it yourself, the way that you feel right now makes it too risky. How about if I take you to dinner and we'll try kissing in public."

She was pouting again, but said, "No. I'll take you to dinner to repay you for helping me get the printer for Jimmy. That way I'll get to pick the place and set the environment as you call it. Come on, I'll drive."

Chapter Three

"Thanks, Joe, I appreciate it. I'll make the arrangements and let her know over lunch."

Joe Allen said, "Not a problem. It's me who appreciates you keeping her happy and content. A happy employee is a productive employee. Let me know if the dates don't work and we'll work something else out."

As soon as my call with Joe Allen ended, I called the American Airlines Executive Platinum desk to arrange for a round trip ticket to fly Samantha to Dallas over the Easter weekend. She hadn't seen her best friend in years, and God knows that I had more than enough frequent flyer miles to make it happen for her.

Joe Allen had readily agreed to let Samantha take Good Friday, April seventeenth off, as well as the Monday following Easter. Her flight would depart Orange County Airport late in the afternoon of the sixteenth. Actually, it would be our flight, because I would be accompanying her. She would return to Orange County the following Monday, but I would continue to Tampa for a quarterly business review with Techno Data.

Samantha and I had spent yesterday, Sunday, together at Olvera Street in Los Angeles, trying to find Mexican food that would be reminiscent of that which Samantha had enjoyed in New Mexico. We had enjoyed our time together, even if none of the food had met our expectations. I had proposed the excursion as a way for us to celebrate her birthday, so she didn't know that I would be arriving at Oculus Filtration today on her actual birthday to take her to lunch.

After almost three months both of our divorces were proceeding, although mine was light years behind hers. Jimmy acquiesced to every term that Samantha had presented, including him taking out a second mortgage on their house so that he could buy out her share. They still shared the house, but only as roommates sleeping in separate rooms and splitting expenses. In three more months, the divorce would be final and Jimmy would have the clear ownership of the house that would allow him to get the second mortgage in his name alone. Samantha would get a cash settlement of just over ten-thousand for the house and twenty-seven thousand from half of their savings.

Under California divorce laws, I was getting screwed, but my lawyer had told me to expect that. Linda would get to remain in the house, with me paying half of the mortgage until the kids both turned eighteen or she remarried, at which time the house could be sold and the proceeds split equally. I would be responsible for child and spousal support since Linda had never worked, but she would be responsible for the other half of the mortgage out of that. I was granted liberal visitation rights, but Linda had turned the kids against me to the point that they seldom wanted to spend any time with me, yet I was still responsible for maintaining medical insurance for them. Finally, I would be responsible for all debt, including her car payment and insurance since Linda had no source of income beyond the spousal support. The good news was that the proposed settlement was finally approved by the court that morning. Nothing that Samantha and I did together from this point forward could affect the settlement terms on either of our divorces.

When I arrived at Oculus Filtration, Samantha was on a conference call. It had already stretched into more than half of her normal lunch hour and I could see that she was getting impatient as I watched her through the glass wall of the conference room. She hadn't seen me and wasn't expecting me so I enjoyed watching her natural behavior. I couldn't hear what was being said, but by her body language, I sensed that Samantha was in full persuasion mode, trying to sway the others on the call to her point of view. I watched with pride as her smile and posture finally indicated her success.

She was dressed as professionally as ever, but when she walked out of the conference room and saw me, her behavior was anything but professional. She ran to me and jumped into my arms, planting a chaste kiss on my lips.

"I'm so glad that you are here," she said. "I was distracted through most of that call thinking about how much I wanted to see you. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to take my girl to lunch on her thirtieth birthday," I said. "But we'll have to make it quick since your conference call ran long. I have a customer call in an hour and a half."

"How about the Burger King up the street? We should be able to eat there relatively quickly."

"And it's within my budget," I joked.

Samantha rode with me the few short blocks and never took her hands off me. She was either squeezing my hand, stroking my face, or snuggling against me at every opportunity.

As we walked into the Burger King, I handed her the birthday card that I had gotten her. Samantha stopped and pulled my face to hers. "You are the best birthday present in the world. Today wouldn't have meant anything to me without you."

Her kisses always curled my toes, but this one was a record-breaker. I had to turn and adjust my erection in my pants before entering the restaurant to avoid embarrassing both of us. Samantha knew the effect that she had on me, and I had to give her credit for not pushing us too far too fast, regardless of how much she wanted to tease me and please me with her actions.

Samantha found a table for us while I placed our order. I had mastered her food preferences as well. When I returned to the table with our food, a misty-eyed Samantha was smiling up at me.

"Does Marlene know?" She asked, holding up the airline tickets that were inside her birthday card.

I leaned down and softly kissed her lips before taking the seat across from her. "I don't even know Marlene's last name and I have no contact information for her, so unless she is psychic, I would say that she doesn't know. Do you think she'll have a problem with us visiting her over the Easter weekend?"

Samantha's expression turned to shock, and then fear as she picked up her birthday card again, looking for something she might have missed. Finding nothing, she looked at me and said, "You said 'us' staying with her. Are you coming too?"

"I had hoped to," I said, "but if that would create a problem for either you or Marlene, I could stay here."

"Oh, no, no, you coming with me would be wonderful. I would love to introduce you to Marlene. I've told her all about you and how happy you make me, and she is dying to meet you. I just didn't see any tickets for you."

"My ticket is in my briefcase. Now, we better eat before things get cold."

Samantha glanced at her airline tickets once more before sliding them into her purse. As she unwrapped her sandwich she said, "My seat is in first class."

I nodded at her and said, "Of course. I try to fly first class whenever I can, and you deserve nothing but first class in everything. We're seated next to each other on the flight to Dallas, but you'll be flying home alone. I will have to go to Tampa after Dallas."

It was obvious to me that she was thinking about something while chewing her first bite. After swallowing, she asked, "How are you paying for these tickets?"

I finished the bite that I was chewing before answering her, "I didn't. I used some of my frequent flyer miles for them. I still have over two-hundred and fifty thousand miles in my account and it increases with every business trip I take, so if there's any place else that you want to go..."

Samantha smiled and said, "I'll think about it."

We ate in silence, just smiling at each other affectionately. Samantha finished first and placed her empty wrappers onto the tray that sat on the table between us. She then asked, "Did I ever tell you about the first time that I considered cheating on Jimmy?"

"I don't recall a conversation about that."

"It was about two months after I started working for Joe Allen the first time. I was sent back to headquarters in New Jersey for training on the new system. The training was as boring as hell, and I found myself spending a lot of time thinking about my relationships. I knew that I had never loved Jimmy, my first husband, Luis, or even Vic for that matter. It seemed to me that I kept choosing guys simply to save myself from being alone or to get myself someplace different than where I was at the time. I came to realized that I had been more alone with each of them than I was by myself. I couldn't remember a time with any of them when I actually wanted to be with them. Now, the more time I spend with you, the more I want to be with you. Does that make sense?"

I nodded and let her continue, "I was staying at the hotel that the company put all visiting employees at. It wasn't as nice as the Doubletree out here, but it did have a restaurant and bar area that was usually pretty active. I had never had a one-night stand before, but the third night there, I decided to go down to the bar and let myself be picked up by a strange man. I don't know if it was the wedding ring on my finger or if I had picked gay men's night at the bar, but not one guy even attempted to talk to me. After a couple of hours, I returned to my room and regained my self-respect. Now, do you want to hear about the second time I considered cheating on Jimmy?"

"How many times were there?" I asked.

"Only two."

"Go ahead then," I chuckled.

Samantha pushed the tray holding our empty food wrappers aside and took both of my hands into hers. She then said, "The second time was the day that I met you, when you stopped me from falling, and every day since then. I now know what love is, and I know that the feelings that I have been missing before are real and alive within me because of you. I don't simply want to be with you, I need to be with you. It's like a part of me is missing when you're not with me. I am completely obsessed with you. I love you AJ."

She squeezed my hands in hers and added, "I don't expect you to make the same admission so don't worry.

She wasn't revealing anything that hadn't been obvious to me for some time. I didn't want to tell her that I loved her as well simply in response to her professing her love for me. I took a different approach, "I remember everything from the first time we met, and every second of every minute that we have shared since. What I can't remember is when I fell in love with you. I think that I have always loved you and was just waiting for the time when you would enter my life."

Before she had a chance to breakdown and cry, I tried to distract her, "I have another present for you. Well, technically I think it is a present for both of us."

Her eyes shone brightly as she asked, "What?"

"My divorce settlement was approved by the judge today. We still have to wait the six months and return to court to get the final court order, but once Linda is served on Friday, the clock will be officially ticking."

Samantha stared at me with a jubilant smile on her face, "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

I smiled at her and said, "If you don't have any other plans for this weekend, I will arrange to get us a comped room at the Doubletree for Friday and Saturday night."

"AJ, you are not only the best birthday present ever, you are the gift that keeps on giving."

~~~

Linda and I had married early. She had been eighteen and I had been nineteen at the time. She had been with one other guy before me, but I gave her her first orgasm. I had sowed my share of wild oats before meeting Linda and even had experienced sex with some older women who schooled me on things that younger guys don't usually learn until later in life, if ever.

During my marriage to Linda, I had little-to-no opportunity to practice a lot of what I had learned before her. Linda refused oral sex of any fashion, which didn't bother me that much because blow jobs had never interested me. I couldn't grasp what possible enjoyment a girl could get from giving a blow job, so I always felt selfish when a girl had me in her mouth. And while I would be aroused by the sensations, I could never achieve an orgasm from a blow job.

Now, cunnilingus was something different. A man (or woman for that matter) could derive extreme pleasure from cunnilingus. The scents of a woman's arousal, the taste of her excretions, the sounds of her pleasure all meld together to create one of the most intimate experiences a man and woman could share.

Linda always denied us that intimacy, and many others. In our fifteen-year marriage and time together before getting married, we had sex in something other than the missionary position on a bed only one time. She didn't drink much, so when she had over-indulged once while we were on a trip to Las Vegas, she let me bend her over the table in our hotel room and take her from behind. She experienced three of her most intense orgasms, but apparently, the alcohol clouded her memory of them because she would never do it again.

Remember when I mentioned that I sensed that Samantha held a great deal of passion for people, places, or things that she believed deserved it? Well from the moment that we closed the door that Friday evening at the Doubletree Hotel, I realized that Samantha believed our love deserved all of her passion and exuberance.

Samantha made it evident immediately that she intended to give herself to me completely, and fully expected me to use her body for any pleasure I desired. She also made it clear that she expected me to happily do the same for her, and I did. Nothing that could be done between a man and a woman together was off the table.

I wouldn't say that Linda liked to have 'vanilla' sex, I would classify it more as 'melted vanilla ice cream' sex. Imagine my delight when Samantha preferred Baskin-Robbins thirty-one flavors where our lovemaking was concerned, and she liked serving as well as partaking.

I can honestly say that Samantha was the first girl, or woman, to make love to me rather than simply letting me make love to her. She made me feel like an Adonis with the way that she focused on deriving pleasure from the pleasures that she gave me. She found erogenous zones on my body that I didn't know existed and she was giddy and attentive with her exploration and discoveries. I have always equated high intelligence with extraordinary bedroom skills and if that assumption is true then Samantha was Mensa bound.

That's not to say that I didn't do my own share of attentive exploration of Samantha's body. God, what a body she had. Having seen her in everything from her professional work outfits to her sports bra and biking shorts, I knew that her body held promise. The promise was fulfilled in aces the instant that I held her completely naked body against mine for the first time. Her lean, athletic body was firm in all the right places, soft in all the better places, and sexier than hell from head to toe.

I don't know why I didn't realize it before then, but I suppose it was because since the moment I had met her, Samantha always had this amazing tanned glow and I just took it for granted that it was her natural skin tone. I never knew that I had a tan line fetish until that Friday night at the Doubletree Hotel. It turns out that Samantha made visits to a tanning salon three times a week, and while she could have gotten a full-body tan, she always wore her bikini while tanning, which resulted in the sexiest tan lines I had ever seen.

We made love on Friday night until sleep finally overtook us around midnight. Our lovemaking wasn't lust-driven; it was gentle and considerate, every touch a declaration of love. We didn't spend over six hours having sex, although I think both of us would have been willing to try, but we did spend all that time completely loving on each other as if our lives depended upon it.

You really don't realize how powerful love is until someone gives you all of hers. When I verbally professed my love to Samantha before dozing, I had complete confidence that she knew it to be true. I know that I did.

I woke before Samantha and reveled in her child-like slumber while wrapped in my arms. I was curious about me not having the normal urge to relieve myself first thing in the morning until I remembered that we had skipped dinner last night and drank very little water before falling asleep.

I heard the low rumbling of a hungry stomach just a few seconds before Samantha opened her sleepy eyes and smiled up at me. "It wasn't just a dream," she whispered.

"The only dream is you," I answered as I pulled her body up to lay on top of mine with our faces aligned so that I could kiss her lips. Samantha brought her hands up and placed them on either side of my face as we kissed.

When our lips parted, hers rained more kisses down onto my face, interrupted by her occasional words, "I love you," followed by "I need you," and "I want you," before she repeated the sequence while continuing to kiss my face.

It was hard not to laugh at her gentle kisses and loving words being delivered with the ebullience of a happy child.

"I think your hunger is affecting your emotions," I teased. "Do you want me to order room service or do you want to get ready and go out for breakfast?"

I felt Samantha spreading her legs to either side of my body just before she bent her knees and rose so that she was straddling me. She had a lustful smile on her face when she reached back and began stroking my semi-erection.

"What part of 'I love you', 'I want you', and 'I need you' didn't you understand? You can let me have my way with you on this nice comfortable bed, or risk your physical safety when I rape you in the shower. Your choice."

The bed won that round, however, I knew that Samantha was frustrated that while her riding me provided her with two powerful orgasms, her weight on my bladder prevented me from being able to achieve an orgasm of my own. She made sure to remedy that while we showered together and it was certainly worth the risk.

Watching Samantha transform herself in the morning for the first time made me realize that she actually did very little to polish her appearance. Besides blow-drying her hair, applying a minimal amount of base make-up, followed by a little blush, she only applied a little mascara before she was done. It really was her natural beauty and healthy complexion that shined through.

She didn't seem the least bothered or annoyed by me sitting on the closed toilet lid and watching her. She would smile at me in the mirror and continue our conversation as naturally as if we were seating next to each other on a couch.

"AJ," she said, "I'm glad that we didn't jump the gun. It was unbelievably hard to resist, and if I had known how wonderful we would be together, I wouldn't have been able to wait. I know that being in love really for the first time in my life contributes to how wonderful you make me feel when we make love, but I also know that the world-altering orgasms that you gave me were because you played my body like a fine musical instrument."

"Your strength oozed through my body like an electrical current and made me respond in ways that I never imagined possible. You knew exactly where to touch me to hit the right notes. You pushed buttons on me that I never knew existed. If I wasn't so hungry, I wouldn't want to leave this room for the rest of the weekend. I am still amazed at how turned on I am just by knowing what we are capable of together."

"What can I say?" I teased, "You inspire me."

"Believe me, I can certainly relate to that. You inspire me like no one ever has. Linda has got to be the biggest idiot in the world to let someone like you get away. You are a freaking love god!"

I laughed and Samantha asked, "Seriously, did she ever tell you why she cheated on you or give you any explanation for her actions with your finances and stuff?"

Meeting Samantha's eyes in the mirror I said, "Apparently, our next-door neighbors had been trying to convince Linda for months that no one who traveled as much as I did wasn't getting a little sex on the side. They kept filling her head with doubts of my fidelity and suspicions that I was leading a secret life while out of town. They upped their game when they introduced her to Cosmo Glover, who not only agreed with their opinion that I had to be cheating while on the road, he convinced Linda that I also had to have secret bank accounts where I was stashing money away that she couldn't get to. She knew that I had the private account for my expense reimbursements so it wasn't hard for him to get his ideas into her head."

"What would your next-door neighbors have to gain by convincing Linda that you were unfaithful and hiding money from her?"

"I haven't any idea," I assured her. "I hardly ever spoke with either of them."

~~~

We drove a few blocks from the hotel to the Polly's Pie restaurant for breakfast. After we were seated, I left Samantha to order our food while I ran across the street to the Seven-Eleven to buy the Saturday morning edition of the Orange County Register newspaper for her. When I handed it to Samantha, she quickly pulled out the section containing all the apartments for rent listings and left the remainder of the paper for me.

I wasn't interested in reading the paper, but I was curious about Samantha's sudden interest in apartments for rent. So I asked, "Aren't you being premature by looking for apartments now?"

"Don't you remember what I told you while we were at lunch on Monday?"

I laughed and said, "You'll have to be a little bit more specific. You told me a lot of things during our lunch on Monday."

"True, but focus on when I told you that the more time I spend with you, the more I want to be with you. Monday evening, I asked Jimmy to expedite the terms of our settlement. It has to be done before the six-month cooling-off period is over but nothing is saying that it can't all be done sooner rather than later. I signed the quitclaim deed for the house Tuesday. Jimmy then had it recorded on Wednesday and gave me my share of our savings. As soon as his second mortgage gets processed, I'll get my money from him for the house, but I can move out any time I want to now. I thought that today would be a good opportunity for us to check out the available apartments to decide where we want to live."

"You're expecting me to share an apartment with you?"

Samantha set the paper down on the table and just stared at me. She didn't say anything but just stared into my eyes with a disappointed expression as if questioning my sanity. She finally said, "I'm sorry if I was assuming ..."

"Could you live with a penniless, almost divorced man, whose wife left him destitute?"

"It wouldn't bother me as long as he truly and completely loved me. But, I have asked myself, why would I live with someone who is so damn ugly?"

After I finished laughing, I said, "I'm just surprised. It will have to be a very cheap apartment because you know that right now I don't have a lot of disposable income that I could contribute."

My salary, before bonuses, was eighty thousand dollars a year. After taxes, I netted around fifty-five hundred a month. Paying the mortgage for the house that Linda and my kids lived in, her car payment, and insurance took almost three thousand of that. Another two thousand was going to pay down the credit card debt that Linda had run up, utilities, and to buy groceries and other necessities for them. I was lucky if the five hundred left each month didn't end up going to support something for them as well.

Samantha took my hands in hers and said, "AJ, I need to live somewhere other than in the same house with my soon to be ex-husband. That means that I will have to pay rent whether you live with me or not. I'm not asking for you to contribute anything towards the rent or utilities. I'm asking you to share what I have to have anyway. Get it through your head, I need to be with you, and I am willing to pay whatever it takes to make that a reality. I know that you travel a lot, but having belongings of yours in the apartment with me and the anticipation of seeing you when you return will help me miss you less."

"Where were you thinking of looking," I asked as our food arrived.

Setting the section of the paper aside, Samantha said, "I think that if we could find something in Orange, maybe in the Old Towne section, it would be convenient for both of us. It would be a short drive to work for me down Chapman Avenue and you would have a choice of the Fifty-Five freeway or a variety of side streets for when you had to go into the office."

So that's where we looked. By noon, Samantha had decided on a small apartment complex on Batavia Avenue, near Saint Joseph Hospital. They had a two-bedroom ground floor unit that we put an application in on, and by two in the afternoon, Samantha had paid the deposits and we had the keys. By two-thirty, we had christened the carpet in the bedroom that Samantha selected to be our room.

"I'll make arrangements to get the utilities put in my name on Monday," Samantha said as we locked the front door on our way out. "Now, you can help me pick out our furniture. Let's go to that warehouse furniture place. They're going to have the largest selection of in-stock furniture. I want us to be settled here by next weekend, if not sooner."

~~~

We spent the rest of the afternoon picking out the living room and dining room furniture. I didn't contribute much to the decisions simply because Samantha's selections were perfect. I did sit on chairs and sofas to gauge their level of comfort, but she had a way of establishing a piece's comfort and quality just by looking at it. Samantha thought that we should leave the second bedroom for storage over the short-term since the apartment didn't come with a garage, and I thought that was a good idea.

Everything that we selected was in stock and available, so Samantha and I discussed our schedules for the next week to determine when one or both of us could be at the apartment to accept the delivery. I assured her that if the phone service could get turned on Monday, I would be able to work from the apartment any afternoon next week. We settled on Wednesday and Samantha finalized the transaction.

As we were leaving the warehouse, I asked, "I take it that you didn't find any bedroom furniture there that you liked. Where do you want to go to look for that?"

"I'm taking my bedroom set from the house. I was hoping that you would help me move it to the apartment Monday after work."

The thought of sharing a bed with Samantha that she had shared with Jimmy didn't thrill me, and Samantha must have sensed that.

"Jimmy and I never had sex on my bed," she said. "He never even slept in it because he didn't like it. I brought it with me from Albuquerque and it went into the spare bedroom."

I asked, "What's so special about the bed that you want to keep it and why didn't Jimmy like it?"

As we settled into her car she explained, "The bed is a water bed that I have converted into an air bed. Instead of water, the mattress gets inflated with air and it is like nothing else that you have ever slept on. Jimmy thought that it was too firm."

She flashed that lascivious smile at me again and said, "I've never had sex on it, but I am sure that we'll enjoy the extra little bounce it will give us."

Hell, I'd try anything with her.

We had an early dinner at the Market Broiler seafood restaurant, then Samantha wanted us to stop at a grocery store before returning to the Doubletree.

"I know that we just had seafood for dinner, but do you like tuna salad sandwiches," she asked me as we walked hand and hand into the store.

"Sure, as long as there isn't any egg in the mix, but why? You can't be hungry again already."

She removed her hand from mine and slid it into the back pocket of my pants. I put my arm around her waist and waited for her answer.

"I'm just preparing for tomorrow. Hunger drove us out of bed this morning and I want to make certain that it doesn't happen again tomorrow. I thought that we would have croissants for breakfast and tuna salad on croissants for lunch. The only thing that we might have to toss out when we leave is the mayonnaise, so we'll get the smallest container we can find."

I couldn't find any reason to object to Samantha's plans, so I kept my mouth closed, or tried to. While the aisles were clearly marked to indicate what items they contained, Samantha decided to wander the store and ask me what I thought of different brands or if there was anything that I didn't eat.

"I eat almost any meat that isn't derived from an organ," I told her. "You already know that I don't eat eggs, I don't like curry or peppers that are too hot, but those are about it. I'm not what I would classify as a meat and potatoes guy. I guess you could say that I prefer comfortable foods; things that aren't pretentious or overplayed. Oh, and I don't like any foods cooked with wine."

"You don't even drink wine, do you?" she asked.

I shook my head and said, "A little champagne as a toast or in a Mimosa is okay, but that's all the wine I will drink."

"Because of your mom?" she asked.

I nodded. I had told her of growing up with an alcoholic mother and how I frequently had to clean up her wine-infused vomit. To this day, even the smell of wine took my appetite away.

I had also shared my challenges living in foster homes after both of my parents had died, from the time I was twelve until I became an emancipated minor at the age of fifteen.

Spending some of my most formative years in Willowbrook, an area so bad that neither the city of Los Angeles nor the city of Compton would claim it. During some of the most racially charged periods in Southern California history, I survived as the lone white kid living between Watts and Compton.

Although it was unlikely that Samantha would ever meet any of my friends from back in those days, she did know that I maintained a close bond with some people that most would not want to meet in broad daylight, forget about the proverbial dark alley. We still had each other's backs.

"Well, lucky for you, I don't drink wine either and all I cook is comfortable food," she said. "You'll see starting next week."

On the drive back to the hotel, Samantha enlightened me further on how she expected things to go, "I'll call Mr. Allen tonight at his home and let him know that I am taking Monday as a moving day. Since we have to check out of the hotel tomorrow afternoon, I'll spend the night with you in your trailer and then go to the various utilities to get them put in my name as soon as possible..."

I interrupted her and said, "I was going to talk to you about that. Have you ever had any utilities in your name here in California?"

"No, Jimmy put them all in his name when we bought the house three years ago."

"Then the utility companies will probably require you to put down deposits to get new accounts established with them. If you're okay with it, I'll call the cable, electric, and phone companies tomorrow and put the services in my name. I have an account history with them already so they won't require a deposit from me. Also, having the phone service in my name would work to my benefit if I decide to work from home. I could expense any long distance calls that are work-related as long as the billing statement is in my name."

"What about the water?" Samantha asked.

"It's included in the rent, remember?"

"Oh, right. Will you have time to call the electric and phone company Monday morning? The cable isn't as urgent since we don't have a television yet."

"It shouldn't be a problem. I have three yearly employee reviews that I need to complete Monday morning to meet the deadline set by HR, but two of those will be done over the phone with my guys back east. I'll try to knock those out before eight and then I'll have an open two hours before I do the review with my guy in San Jose. I should be able to meet you at the apartment before noon."

Samantha thought for a minute and then said, "How about instead of meeting at the apartment, you meet me at the house. I'll get a rental truck picked up first thing Monday morning and take it to the house. I can start loading it with my clothes and the lighter stuff until you get there. Hopefully, the only thing that will be left by then will be the bedroom set."

"Logistically, it would be better, if, on the way to the house, you stopped and reserved a trailer for us at the U-Haul center on Tustin Avenue for Monday. I could pick it up on my way to the house and it would be more convenient to return it after we unload at the apartment. It would also be less expensive."

She reached over and stroked me through my pants, "I can do that, but just to make myself clear, I intend to christen our bed Monday night. Of course, that's if I don't screw you to death before then."

I thought that Samantha was joking, and while she wasn't really trying to kill me, she did everything imaginable to suck the soul right out of me through her lovemaking. I was beginning to think that there really were no limits where Samantha and sex were concerned.

She explained that her former boyfriend, Vic, had taken her to a couple of adult theaters while they were together and she had enjoyed the arousal that they gave her. When they had broken up, she would occasionally rent adult movies to watch by herself. Over the years, she had developed fantasies that she said she had never had an opportunity to explore. Her relationship with Jimmy didn't involve very much sex, and what there was left her mostly disappointed.

Among her fantasies was food sex. Not having sex with food items, but incorporating food items into the sex itself. Unbeknownst to me, she had purloined several of the small jelly preserve packages from our breakfast table. I have mentioned that I have never had an orgasm from oral sex, but I came very damn close when Samantha spent almost an hour spreading seedless blackberry preserves on me and then used her mouth to clean it all off.

I also got the pleasure of tasting blackberry preserves on her breasts. Samantha's breasts were firm, pert, and perfect little B-cup handfuls. However, her nipples were what truly set her breasts apart from any that I had ever seen. Typically, a woman with breasts the size of Samantha's would have little pencil eraser-sized nipples. Hers were like a pencil eraser as well, but it would have been one of those large primary school pencils that kids use in preschool or kindergarten. They were perpetually erect and hyper-sensitive. She didn't need a bra to support her breasts, she needed one to dim her 'high beams'. I had heard it was possible, but Samantha is the first woman that I had seen achieve an orgasm solely from having her nipples stimulated.

In the shower after our first food sex experience, Samantha shared with me a few of the other fantasies that she hoped we could explore together. Listening to all the things that Samantha wanted us to try together naturally had the effect of arousing us both, resulting in our next round of lovemaking being once more in the shower.

Before I met Linda, there had been a few times when I had sex with a girl three or four times in a single night. I remember how both of us would usually be too tired or sore afterward to have any interest in more for a while. Since early Friday evening, Samantha and I had made love at least a dozen times and I concluded that this was the difference from when I was younger. We made love rather than simply having sex.

From how Samantha had described some of her fantasies, I knew that the time would come when she and I would end up having more rigorous animalistic sex than we had done so far. Our focus had been on developing the intimacies, trust, and love that would make us both feel more secure and open in trying new things together. As we discovered together, Samantha and I could make love to each other dozens of times a day and still be ready for more.

Samantha claimed that whenever we made love, it felt as if part of me was trying to disappear inside of her, to become fused in some fashion to the love that she felt for me. I had sensed similar bonds resulting from our intimacies and realized how much our physical relationship embodied and emboldened our emotional relationship. We didn't need to be physically together all the time, but we both realized early on that there would always be a noticeable difference in our spirits whenever we were apart.

There was an almost natural balance of passion and comfort between us. During any intermissions in our lovemaking, our conversations varied between comfortable and stimulating. I appreciated Samantha's honesty about her experiences, as well as her fantasies and desires, and I could tell that this thrilled her.

"When I say that I consider you to be 'my guy', I don't only mean that we're exclusive," Samantha said softly with her head resting on my chest. "I mean that I take full responsibility for you and your happiness."

"I feel the same way about 'my girl'," I assured her.

"I know. That's is one of the things that makes you the guy that I want to be 'my guy'."

I chuckled and said, "I'll leave it at that before it gets too confusing."

"Your wisdom is another thing that makes you the guy..."

I tickled her to get her to stop. She bit lightly on my left nipple in response and then giggled. After a few seconds, she continued, "Anyway, as I was saying, I take responsibility for you and your happiness, but I won't spoil you or try to control you. I respect that we may want different things at times and what I believe is best for you may not always be a perspective shared by you. As long as your safety and well-being aren't in question, your happiness will always be a priority for me, as I already know mine is for you."

I was running my fingers through her hair. I sensed that something was motivating Samantha to have this discussion; that she wanted to do something for me, or wanted me to change something.

"What is it that you want to do that has you questioning whether or not I will agree to it?" I asked.

She raised to look me in the eyes and asked, "Do you like the way that I dress?"

I was surprised by her question, but then realized that she wasn't posing it out any insecurity on her part, she was genuinely interested in whether I liked the selection of clothes and what she wore at different times.

"I have always been very impressed with the way that you dress at all times. I think that I have mentioned that to you on several occasions."

"But that was before," she said. "This is now. We are together now, so I want you to have a say in how I dress if you want to. For example, I wear pantyhose because they are more convenient, but if you would prefer me to wear stockings, I would gladly do that for you."

I smiled and said, "That is an example of when you and I will have to compromise. Your comfort and convenience being a priority for me would lead me to say that you should continue to wear pantyhose. My happiness being a priority for you would lead you to choose stockings. I suggest that you continue wearing pantyhose professionally, but I would enjoy you wearing stockings when you and I are together and your attire at the time is appropriate."

Samantha returned my smile and said, "I could live with that compromise. Will you do something for me?"

I knew it. Here it comes. "I'll do my best," I answered.

"Will you start going commando for me on days when you don't have to work or go into the office?"

"You want me to stop wearing underwear?" I asked, the surprise in my voice evident.

"You usually wear jeans on the weekends and when you dress casual," Samantha replied in a reasoning tone. "They will give you all the support that you need."

"They also place a zipper precariously close to a very sensitive..."

"Not if you wear Levi's Five-Oh-One jeans. I'll buy you some, so take the fear of a zipper out of the equation, and tell me, will you start going commando for me?"

"If it would make you happy, I would be glad to."

Samantha placed little nibbling kisses as she moved lower down my body. When her lips had reached my pubic hair she paused and said, "Good, because it will make me happy having easier access to make you happy."

Chapter Four

I was thinking about Samantha and our plans for that evening as I backed the Terry trailer into its designated location alongside my former house. I had left the office early to beat the Friday afternoon traffic and to allow time to get the trailer moved and then get back to the apartment early enough not to disappoint Samantha.

I was just finishing the lowering of the hitch stand when I sensed her presence.

"Who is she?" Linda growled.

I turned to her and asked, "Who is who?"

"You know who I mean, the skank that you're shacking up with. You're obviously living someplace other than the trailer now, so who is she?"

"What makes you so certain that it's a 'she'?"

"Because no guy would make the changes in your appearance that a woman has obviously done unless you've finally come out of the closet and embraced your homo side."

Boy, Linda was on a roll today. I didn't care if she noticed my new hairstyle and color-coordinated clothing, but I wasn't going to allow her to continue insulting Samantha, a woman that she had never met or even spoken to.

When I arrived at the apartment last Wednesday evening, Samantha wanted me to allow her to cut and style my hair. When I agreed, I discovered that it was one of the most intimate things that a woman had ever done for me. I have had my hair cut by women several times over the years, but those had all be in salons and the stylists kept everything professional. With Samantha, she made it extremely personal. Her cutting my hair while topless added a nice dimension to the experience as well.

"Not that it's any of your business or concern, but yes, a former, and I mean that we no longer work together, coworker invited me to share an apartment with her until I get back on my feet financially."

"You mean until you're free to access all the money that you have been hiding and denying to your family. Cosmo doesn't believe that you're able to live on less than the five-hundred dollars that you claim is all you have left each month, and neither do I. Cosmo is going to hire an attorney for me so that I can challenge the settlement and prove that you are hiding assets."

"I'm glad to hear that," I told her. "You challenging the settlement will open the door for me to have the issue of custody revisited. I don't know what crap you've been feeding the kids about me, but you better make it clear to them and yourself that spending quality time with their father is not optional. When my scheduled days arrive, they had both better start being here on time for me to pick them up."

"There is no way that you would be granted custody of the kids and we both know it." Linda snarled. "You travel too much. It's not my fault if the kids resent the fact that their father is a lying, cheating bastard who has been depriving them of his attention their entire lives."

"Only because you have been filling their heads with your own delusions. I could have explained that I moved out because their mother was a round-heel biker slut. I have never said a bad word against you to them, but that could change if you don't start playing nice where my visitations are concerned. Remember, I have proof of your infidelity and financial shenanigans. You have nothing on me and never will."

"What proof do you have of anything? I had every right to spend the money in our joint accounts and to use our joint credit card however I saw fit. It was only fair since you were, and still are squirreling away money somewhere, and I'm going to find it."

I walked to the driver's side door of the truck and opened it. My briefcase was behind the seat, so I pulled it out, set it on the hood, and silently opened it. I handed the manila envelope to Linda and watched her open it.

"The only reason that those pictures and the record of your abortion are not part of the divorce petition that I filed is that this is a no-fault state. That means no matter how much of a whore the wife is, the husband still gets screwed by the system. I might not be able to use them to my advantage in the divorce, but I will use them to my advantage with my kids if I have to."

Linda's mouth was hanging open as she flipped through the half-dozen images of her initiation into Cosmo's biker club. Being initiated meant that she had to have sex at least once with every member of the club. Since she didn't know which of the men had gotten her pregnant, she didn't know which one to ask to pay for the abortion and had to foot the bill herself out of her support payment.

Now, this wasn't a biker gang reminiscent of the Hell's Angels or anything. It was made up of Cosmo, who worked as a shift foreman manufacturing office furniture, a chiropractor, a dentist, two plumbers, and my former next-door neighbor, a used car salesman. They all had to work at decent paying jobs to support their Harley-Davidson hobby, and as a bonus, they got the privilege of having the occasional gangbang with a married woman. Tough guys.

The investigator that my lawyer used knew where this particular biker group held their initiations and had easily captured the happy event for posterity. He had provided me with portfolios on each member of the club in case I ever needed their testimony, which I wouldn't. I just might have a use for the information for other purposes in the future, especially if Cosmo continues to provoke Linda into making my life miserable and turning my kids against me.

I reached over and took the pictures back, slid them into the envelope, and replaced it into my briefcase. After placing the briefcase behind the driver's seat I turned to Linda and said, "Talk to the kids and make them understand or I will. I expect them to be ready tomorrow when I get here."

In the last almost two months, I had called to speak with Bryce and Paige every night, but they had no interest in talking to me much unless one of them was having a problem with their homework.

Since each of them had started school, I had always been the parent that they came to with schoolwork problems or projects that they needed help with. Bryce had an attention deficit disorder, was hyperactive, and struggled with his schoolwork. Linda had no patience with him, so it had always fallen on me to assist him. Paige, on the other hand, was an 'A' student assigned to advanced placement classes all through school, and she had no patience with Linda trying to help her with subjects that were beyond her understanding. It was hard for me to be relegated to being just their tutor when they wanted my help and not receiving any of the affection I had been blessed with as their father.

Driving back to the apartment, I considered Linda's threats to hire an attorney. I knew that they wouldn't find any hidden assets because none existed. I could prove that the separate private account that I had was established with the one-thousand dollar permanent travel advance that the company had given me to pay for business expenses until I had received reimbursement for them.

The fact that the account had considerably more than the original advance in it was irrelevant to the case. As my lawyer explained, the company could demand everything in the account back at any time. We could argue that the unused per-diem that I had been saving over the years was justifiably due me, but they could counter that argument by claiming that they had paid for an expense never incurred and thus the money was not mine. In any event, the money in that account could not be perceived as part of the marital assets and was safe.

When I got onto the Garden Grove freeway, I was stuck momentarily in the right lane behind someone towing a U-Haul trailer. As I was able to move over a lane to the left to pass it, I smiled at the memory of the past Monday when Samantha and I had used a trailer identical to it to move her stuff from the house to the apartment.

Samantha had the looks of a model and the style and grace of a princess, but she also had the strength of a lumberjack and a vocabulary when she was pissed that would cause drunken sailors to flee a bar with their hands over their ears. She hefted her end of the dressers and other larger items with ease and without complaint, except when she broke one of her fingernails.

With nothing more than a bedroom set consisting of a king-size bed, two nightstands, two dressers, and a cordless phone on the kitchen counter, we set up our new home together and spent our first night in the apartment. Samantha had taken enough dishes, utensils, and linens from the house to get us started, however, she wanted all those things that we would be using daily to be chosen by us together. We planned on some major shopping this weekend.

Speaking of that bed, it did get the christening that Samantha had asked for, and then some. I had friends when I was younger who had waterbeds and remember their stories about how long it would take to fill them with water. The handheld electric air pump that Samantha used had that mattress fully inflated in less than five minutes. It was a pain getting the cover zippered around the inflated mattress, but other than that, we had the bed assembled, and christened by the time our pizza for dinner was delivered.

The bed proved that Jimmy was a bigger idiot than I had originally thought. The mattress was the most comfortable sleeping experience I had ever had. The surface was smooth and firm and unlike a water-filled one, this one didn't shift every time your partner moved. The only negative that I saw in the mattress was that the vinyl it was made of tended to squeak sometimes when Samantha and I made love on it.

Samantha worked late on Tuesday to try and catch up from taking Monday off for the move. She ran into my arms as soon as she had closed the front door. She just melted into me and sighed contently as I held her for several minutes. I picked her up in my arms and carried her into the bedroom and set her on the bed.

She must have been expecting me to begin undressing her because she remained sitting upright. I had to gently prod her shoulder to get her to lay back on the bed.

"Relax," I said as I slipped both of her shoes off and knelt at her feet. "Your feet aren't too ticklish, are they?"

I didn't wait for an answer as I took a foot into each of my hands and started massaging them. The material of her pantyhose allowed my fingers to slide smoothly over her tired feet as I kneaded each foot from heel to toe, making certain that nothing on either foot was missed. Samantha lay on the bed mewing like a kitten, occasionally expressing her love for me, as well as promises of great pleasure for me later.

After almost fifteen minutes, she said, "You're going to put me to sleep and that doesn't fit my agenda for tonight."

I stopped rubbing her feet and stood. She raised her arms and I took her hands to help her sit up on the bed. "You don't want to sleep tonight?" I teasingly asked.

"Maybe in a few hours," she said while standing. She started unbuttoning her blouse so I took a seat on the bed to watch the show. She smiled at my attention and asked, "Have you given any thought to what we might have for dinner?"

"I was thinking of running over to the Togo's on Glassell for sandwiches. I was just waiting to see what you might want."

"Togo's sounds good. You can get me my usual barbeque sandwich."

"That's what I figured. Do you want me to go now or can I wait until the show is over?"

Samantha leaned down and kissed me before saying, "Go now. Between your foot rub and your lascivious attention on me undressing, another hunger is growing in me. I need you away from me for a few minutes so that I can calm down enough to eat and take care of other things before your real show starts."

I stood and kissed her smiling lips before quickly heading out to retrieve our dinner. When I returned fifteen minutes later with the sandwiches, I was hit with a strong odor as soon as I opened the door to the apartment. I left it open to try and air the place out some and asked, "Has someone been cooking meth in here while I was gone?"

Samantha was standing at the kitchen counter doing something with her fingernails. She laughed and said, "Sorry, I have gotten used to the odor and neglected to have enough ventilation so that the smell of the acrylic wouldn't bother anyone else. I'm almost done repairing the nail that I broke yesterday. Can you open the kitchen window too and turn on the exhaust fan over the stove? The smell should go away pretty quick."

I did as she asked and she was right, the smell did disappear pretty fast. By the time that we began to eat our sandwiches, it was almost entirely gone. We stood across from each other at the kitchen counter and updated each other on our day.

The furniture was delivered the next day, so we spent the next two evenings positioning everything to Samantha's liking. When Samantha came home from work on Friday, she was loaded down with grocery bags.

"There are several boxes in my car that I could use a hand with," she told me after a kiss.

"I'll get them," I assured her. It took me three trips to get all of the cookware that she had purchased into the apartment.

Samantha had changed her clothes by the time that I had returned with the last boxes. I began putting the groceries away while she started removing cookware from the boxes. Once she had unpacked the items that she felt she needed, she set the rest aside.

"Can you wash these while I get dinner started?" she asked. "Are pork chops and fried potatoes okay for tonight?"

"Of course, but you don't have to cook. I don't mind take-out."

She turned, pulled me into her arms, and said, "No way. You've avoided my cooking long enough."

After washing the skillets and utensils that Samantha had selected, I remained in the kitchen out of the way but available to assist if needed. While Samantha prepared our dinner, we updated each other on our days. When I told her about my conversation with Linda, Samantha was silent for a few minutes as she considered what I had told her.

She asked, "How have you been paying Linda the support money each month?"

I explained, "I opened a new account at the same bank where our joint account still is. I transfer the support payments from my account to the joint account when the time comes. Linda has access to the joint account but not my account. Why?"

"I trust that you always enter notes for the transfer describing what the purpose of each is?"

"Of course. If I didn't, I would have to write her a check so that there was a record of each support payment. All the other payments I make for them are recorded when they occur."

"Good. You're STIP eligible, aren't you? Can you have that payment sent someplace other than your normal direct deposit account?"

I knew where she was going with these questions, but she had one more, "You trust me, don't you?"

I smiled across at her and said, "Give me one of your deposit slips so that I have the routing and account numbers and I'll prove it to you."

Employees at my company above a certain pay grade became eligible for the Short-Term Incentive Program, which essentially paid a profit-sharing bonus that, while part of our compensation, it was variable. In fact, it wasn't even guaranteed, and some years nothing was paid out. Last year had been one of our better years so we were expecting STIP bonuses to be some of the best when they were distributed in a few weeks.

I had never told Linda about the bonuses, but simply let them go into our savings account for family vacations and the like. If she and Cosmo did follow through with her threat to get a new lawyer involved, it would be harder for him to track my bonus if it went to Samantha's bank instead of mine.

Samantha finished slicing potatoes and asked, "Do you still think it's a good idea for me to be introduced to your kids this weekend?"

"At this point, I don't see where it could do any more harm than Linda and Cosmo have already done to the kid's perception of me. We'll pick them up around eleven Saturday morning, take them to lunch someplace and then let them accompany us while we shop for a television. I'll let each of them pick out a movie on videotape at Circuit City while we are there."

"Maybe I should just stay here and do some laundry on Saturday and let you spend some time alone with them. We can shop for the TV and other stuff we need on Sunday."

I went around the counter and took Samantha into my arms. I told her, "That wouldn't be fair on so many levels. First of all, I know that we haven't talked much about our future together but I also know that we both want it. I hope that any future for us includes a loving relationship with my kids. I'm not as confident of that now as I was a few months ago, but I haven't given up hope. The sooner that they realize that you are in my life for good, the better, especially when you back me up with their crappy behavior and they recognize that I'm not the only one that they are disappointing..."

Samantha interrupted me and said, "That's one reason why I think it would be better if I met them at some other time. I know that I won't be able to tolerate them demonstrating even the slightest disrespect towards you without calling them on it. Do you think that their first impression of their future stepmother should be as negative as it will be when I challenge their behavior towards you?"

I hugged her tighter, both to reassure her, but also in elation over her vision of our future. I said, "Challenge away. They need to see that a real wife supports her husband and doesn't shit on him every chance she gets. Paige in particular needs to meet you. She needs to recognize that all beautiful women aren't vindictive, self-absorbed bigots. You are the perfect woman to set an example for her. Anyway, the main reason that your suggestion isn't fair is that you want to do the laundry. I told you on Monday while we were moving in that I had always done the laundry for my family and that I wanted to do the laundry for you and me. You can't deprive me of the opportunity to wash, dry, and fold your unmentionables. That wouldn't be fair."

Laughing, Samantha said, "Okay, but I get to do all the ironing, especially your shirts. Deal?"

"Deal."

~~~

When we flew to Dallas for our Easter weekend, we had driven Samantha's car to the airport so that she would have it available upon her return on Monday. When I returned to Orange County from Tampa, I was surprised to see her waiting for me as I walked off the jet bridge from the plane.

Over the years, I had flown more than five million miles. I had visited countries all over the world to meet with some of the most prominent people in the high-technology sector and returned home. Never had I been met by anyone upon my arrival. Now here, on my first trip since we had become a couple, Samantha stood in all her loving beauty waiting to welcome me home.

It always amazed me just how fast and nimble Samantha was in a pencil skirt and high heels. She flew into my arms like I was a returning prisoner of war or someone that she hadn't seen for several years instead of just the two days that we had been apart.

The kiss that she delivered not only gave me the start of an erection, I saw a few other male travelers trying to surreptitiously adjust the front of their pants when the kiss ended.

"This is a wonderful surprise," I said. "Why aren't you at work?"

Samantha took my briefcase from my left hand, leaving me with just my garment bag hanging off the shoulder. She took my right hand into hers and said, "I'll explain on the way home. Come on."

Walking to the short-term parking, she said, "I was afraid that Marlene would make good on her threat to meet your flight from Tampa when it arrived in Dallas and then spirit you away to become her sex slave before you could get on the connecting flight home."

I laughed and said, "Now you're just making things up."

"No, I'm not. You can call and ask her yourself. First, though, there's a new rule; you have to use your superpowers only for good."

Still laughing, I asked, "What are you talking about?"

Samantha opened the hatchback of her car and set my briefcase inside. I placed my garment bag on top of it and closed the hatchback. Remaining at the back of the car, Samantha put her arms around my neck and smiled radiantly up at me.

She said, "When you met Marlene, you gave her one of your superhero hugs. It contributed to my once loyal, sweet best friend threatening to steal you away from me to become her personal sex slave."

I was laughing again, but managed to say, "So you're saying that my hugging Marlene is all it took to turn her to the dark side?"

Samantha was nodding as she said, "It was a major contributing factor, yes. Then there was the fact that the walls in their house are apparently paper-thin because Marlene claims that she heard my every moan and gasp, not to mention my cries of ecstasy that you induced repeatedly while we were there. Finally, Marlene said that any guy who could make me look as happy and in love as you have done was one that she had to try for herself."

I leaned down and kissed Samantha's lips and said, "Rest assured, there is not another woman on this Earth who could inspire me to love her or make love to her the way that I do with you. You're stuck with me. Come on"

I walked Samantha to the driver's side door and opened it for her. She slid gracefully onto the seat. I was filled with wonder and delight by her every movement and just stood there watching her getting settled. I pulled her seatbelt away from her seatback and handed her the buckle so that she could fasten it. Closing her door, I then walked around and took my place next to her.

Samantha's sporty little Honda had a five-speed manual transmission and I was amazed every time that I experienced her masterfully working through the gears while wearing two or three-inch stiletto heels. I watched as the toned thigh muscles flexed and relaxed when she pressed and released the clutch for each shift.

"Oculus Filtration Systems has been acquired by another company," Samantha said. "The office where I work is going to close and all operations merged with the new company's existing operations in El Monte over the next ninety days."

"El Monte will be a bit longer commute," I said, "but not that bad..."

Samantha was shaking her head as she said, "I won't be making the commute. My position is redundant there."

"So you're being laid off?" I asked.

"Not yet. I was offered another position. It's actually a promotion, but it is at the headquarters of the new company outside of Pittsburgh. They offered to pay out the lease on the apartment and to relocate me if I choose to take the position."

I sat in stunned silence for the rest of the drive. Samantha and I had been a couple for less than a month, but in that time, I had grown to love, cherish, and depend upon the life that we were building together and the future I thought that we both hoped for. Now, it looked like I might lose all that I had come to treasure about our relationship.

When we walked into the apartment, Samantha didn't release my hand that she had been holding since we had left the car. She set my briefcase onto the floor next to the front door, pulled my garment bag off of my shoulder, and set it beside my briefcase. She silently led me into the bedroom where she released my hand and stared up at me with love in her eyes while she undressed.

I just stood there, watching the woman I loved reveal herself to me. Samantha didn't say anything while she efficiently disrobed and then began working on getting me to the same condition. When we were both naked, she pulled back the covers on the bed and pulled me in beside her. Resting her head on my shoulder, she pulled my arm around her and snuggled against me.

Finally, she spoke, "I know that this is a surprise, AJ, but we need to decide by Friday. After that, I will have ninety days to either find another job or relocate to Pennsylvania."

"I'll support whatever you want to do," I said, but I knew that the sadness in my voice was clear to her.

"No, AJ, we need to decide on this together. I love you and won't do anything without your full agreement. That's what partners do."

"I love you too. Okay, let's discuss our options. What are the pros and cons of each?"

I was as elated with the way that Samantha and I calmly reviewed each option and what it meant to both her career as well as our relationship. We lay in that bed for hours, sharing our opinions on everything from the local job market should Samantha decide to find a new job, to the possibility of us maintaining a long-distance relationship should she take the promotion and move back east. I was even happier with the decision that we arrived at together.

The dawn of the computer age, and in particular the minicomputer in the eighties, presented the companies that manufactured and sold the devices with several challenges related to service. As the computers began to stream into the various markets, the emphasis was to find people with the technical knowledge and skills required to service and maintain them. Qualified people were difficult for many companies to find, but even harder was finding people who were skilled at managing a technical workforce. Usually, the technician who was most reliable and productive was placed in the management position even though he or she had no practical business or management experience.

The Association for Field Service Management, or AFSM, was founded in Southern California in the eighties by the leaders of various service organizations who recognized a need for educational opportunities for service employees, in particular the executives, and to promote the service industry as a whole. I was one of the founding members of AFSM, and while my travels prevented me from attending every monthly meeting of my local chapter, I always made it a point if I was in a city with their own chapter to attend the meeting there.

The networking opportunities afforded me through my active participation in AFSM meant that I had probably met in person at some point with the head of every organization in Southern California that provided any type of high-technology service. I did not doubt that I could find a position for Samantha with another local company, and she had complete faith in me to do just that.

She turned down the offer to relocate the next day. We spent the evenings updating her resume and spent the following Sunday in bed, reviewing the job listings and identifying those that were at companies where I had an established contact and which had a position Samantha was interested in pursuing.

Monday morning, I bypassed Human Resources at Beeckman Industries and emailed Samantha's resume directly to Dave Klein, Director of Service. Samantha had her first interview on Wednesday and a job offer by Friday. She resumed her attempts to kill me through sex the following weekend.

~~~

Our relationship continued to strengthen the more time we spent together. Neither of us had many close friends that we associated with regularly, preferring to spend our time together over anyone else. While Samantha and I were not into entertaining other people, we were frequently invited to the homes of co-workers for barbeques, pool parties, and the like.

The first get-together that Samantha and I were invited to after she started at Beekman, was a combination retirement/promotion celebration at the home of a manager in Samantha's department. Approximately twenty-five couples were attending, most ranging in age between late twenties and late forties. The invitation encouraged guests to bring bathing suits to enjoy the pool while waiting for the barbeque.

Samantha wore a teal sundress over her conservative white bikini. I wore basic 'board shorts' that I could swim in, but doubted that we would be going into the water. After greeting our hosts, Samantha began leading me around to the various groups of people on the patio and the pool, introducing me to those that she knew.

While I went to get us each a cold drink, Samantha located an empty lounge chair beside the pool, took off her sundress, and began folding it. I watched in amusement from across the pool as three guys were instantly falling over themselves to find a seat near where Samantha was getting settled.

Samantha was the type of woman who was beautiful but didn't think so. Her shapely, yet slender figure would cause Sports Illustrated swimsuit models to throw a t-shirt over themselves. The sight of Samantha in her bikini had turned every head at the party, and you could see the relief on the face of every other woman there when I joined Samantha and she kissed me.

Samantha asked me to sit on the lounge chair and spread my legs so that she could sit between them and lean back against me. All afternoon, if she wasn't leaning back against me on the lounge chair, she was sitting on my lap or standing beside me with her arms wrapped around one of mine.

With a regular parade of guys walking back-and-forth past her as she lay there soaking up the hot afternoon sun, Samantha made it clearer than the blue Southern California sky that she was devoted exclusively to me. Several guys had the audacity to try to get Samantha to swim with them or make some other lame attempt to separate her from me, but she would have nothing to do with them.

Every social situation that Samantha and I shared was similar. She stuck to me as if she was the one that had to fear someone stealing me from her. She was never jealous, but she made certain that anyone who saw the two of us together had no doubts about where our relationship stood. I know that her motivation in most instances was to make me proud to be seen with her, and I tried my best to always let her know that she was successful. How could she not be?

Samantha thrived in her new job at Beeckman. The only wrinkle was that she worked from eleven in the morning until seven-thirty at night due to their staggered work schedules to help reduce traffic at peak times of the day. I adjusted my schedule as much as possible, going into the office later or working from home more frequently.

The best that could be said about her relationship with my kids was that they were usually able to tolerate each other and remain civil. That pretty much summed up my relationship with my kids as well.

Linda did hire an attorney with the help of her biker boyfriend and collectively, they did everything they could to find hidden assets that did not exist. All they managed to do was extend the settlement's final approval another three months and cost Cosmo thousands of dollars in attorney fees.

My bonus was enough to allow me to pay off the loan on Linda's minivan, which meant that she then became responsible for the insurance payment. I waited until the divorce was final to pay it off so that they couldn't raise any issue over my having the money to do so. I was also able to keep my promotion and a significant pay raise a secret from them.

I now had an extra four hundred dollars a month being applied to the credit card debt that Linda had racked up before I canceled the card and moved out. I hadn't been reviewing the statement on that account too diligently since no new charges could be applied, but when I checked to see what difference the additional payment amount was having on the balance, I noticed that the remaining balance was far lower than I expected. It didn't take long for me to discover that Samantha had been making payments to the account without telling me.

When I asked her about it, all she said, "What's mine is yours. Deal with it."

I dealt with it by showing her more love every day.

~~~

The year 1994 started off shaky for us. Actually, it started off shaky for everyone in Southern California on January 17^th, at four-thirty in the morning when the Northridge earthquake struck. Earthquakes bring out the one fear that humans are born with, which is the fear of falling. Although we were still in bed when the quake started, it was Samantha's first experience with one and she panicked. I felt so bad for her while I held her in my arms until the shaking stopped, and I never wanted to see her that scared again.

She calmed quickly once she realized what it was and that it was over, but the aftershocks that continued for several days wore on her and the entire experience would not be forgotten.

Like many others, my company loved to reorganize. It seemed like every time there was a change in upper management, the deck chairs had to get repositioned soon thereafter. The latest reorganization took the team that had been reporting to me and moved them to a different group, leaving me with no direct reports, and potentially no place in a deck chair once the repositioning was complete.

One major positive that came out of the time that I had spent with Takashi Yoshida during his visit the previous year was that he had continued to trust my opinions and requested my participation in several global initiatives to standardize and drive the profitability of our service offerings. I realized that it was Mr. Yoshida's influence that contributed to me being tasked with building a new professional services division in the new organization. My travels decreased significantly but what travel I did do was almost exclusively international.

The first trip in my new role would be to Australia and would be for two weeks. I had four weeks to accomplish three things: Prepare a presentation for my Australian counterparts, talk Samantha into coming with me, and get our visas from the Australian Consulate in Los Angeles.

Samantha was as excited to be asked to accompany me as I hoped that she would be, but disappointed that she would only be able to get a week off from work. She would fly to Sydney and spend the first week with me, but she would have to fly back to Los Angeles by herself. Not ideal, but she wouldn't miss the opportunity to visit Australia for anything.

We arrived in Sydney on a Sunday morning. I rented a car and drove us to our hotel in downtown Sydney, walking distance to Darling Harbor and the convention center where the symposium I was to attend during my first week would be held.

During Samantha's time in Europe, she had never left Germany, so Australia was her first exposure to riding in a car with the steering wheel on the right instead of the left. I had driven cars in Japan and England before so my biggest challenge always was that I would turn on the windshield wipers when I meant to use the turn signals.

We arrived and checked into the hotel early enough on Sunday to leave us the afternoon free. Considering Samantha's love of animals, I knew where we would spend our time. We took a ferry across Sydney Harbor to the Taronga Zoo. Her childlike glee as she saw all the new animals up close was contagious. I would treasure the ability to share experiences like this with her forever.

Samantha is the strongest and bravest woman I had ever known and I knew that she would be self-sufficient if she decided to venture out of the hotel to see the sights of Sydney while I was tied up with work. She wouldn't have any of it though; if we couldn't share the experience together, she didn't want to have it.

I only had to spend a few hours each day attending specific programs at the symposium. During these times, Samantha would remain in the hotel room, reading, relaxing, and thinking up new ways to tease and excite me when I returned. We did get out each day to tour downtown Sydney, including a picnic in Hyde Park and several walks during the week through the botanical gardens.

Due to the international dateline, Samantha was scheduled to fly back to Los Angeles the following Monday, where she would arrive the same day. This left us one more weekend together in Australia, which we spent touring the Blue Mountains and visiting a wildlife park where her dream to feed kangaroos and wallabies was realized. I wanted to make all of her dreams come true.

I was much more involved in work the following week after Samantha had returned home, but I was able to move up my departure schedule and fly home on Friday instead of Saturday. Samantha was at work when I arrived, so I caught the Super Shuttle home from LAX. I was dozing in our bed by the time that Samantha got home from work. She quickly undressed and slid in beside me, bringing me the joyous pleasure of the body that I had been craving while we were apart. She was asleep in my arms within minutes and I was content with that arrangement.

Between the time that Samantha had left Australia and I returned home to join her, she had been pondering a few ideas that she was anxious to share with me. She explained each to me over breakfast on Saturday morning.

"I saw a house, well a duplex really, for rent over off La Veta and Cambridge. We can easily afford the rent and I think we should check it out."

"Why are you interested in moving?" I asked, not that I was opposed to the idea.

"Not just moving," she said. "Moving into someplace with three bedrooms and a larger kitchen is what interests me. If there was a small private yard where I could sunbathe, that would be nice too."

"Are we anticipating having guests?" I teased. We had never had my kids stay over so I doubted there was a sudden interest in changing that routine.

"Maybe. Marlene and I have been discussing the possibility of you using some of your frequent flyer miles to fly her and Steve out here for a visit."

"I'm fine with all of that as long as Marlene is over her whole sex slave fetish."

Samantha laughed and said, "Oh, believe me, I've already laid down the ground rules where her desires for you are concerned. You should be safe, but I'll never let you out of my sight while she is here just to be sure. The other reason that I would like for us to consider renting a house is that they are more likely than apartments to allow dogs."

Samantha had told me how she had always had dogs while growing up in Oklahoma and how much she missed not having one. She had lived in apartments until she had married Jimmy, and he wouldn't let her have one due to his allergies. If I could give her the pleasure of having a dog once more, I was more than willing.

"Then let's do it," I said.

We were in the new rental house within a month. I surprised her with a Sheltie puppy two weeks later, who we called "Snapper". It made her sound far more ferocious than she was, but with an AKC registered name of "Cole's Snapdragon", Snapper seemed to fit. Do you know how rewarding it is to be a hero to the sexiest woman in the world?

Chapter Five

Samantha wasn't close to anyone in her family from what I could determine. Her oldest sister, Doris, and her family lived about four-hundred miles north of us in the Central California town of Manteca. Her other sister, Ellen, lived in Charlottesville, Virginia and as far as I knew, never even exchanged a Christmas card with Samantha. Her younger brother, Jerry, lived in San Francisco, and from what Samantha knew, he had become fully immersed in the gay culture there. Her parents had moved to the San Antonio area once her father had retired from the Army, but both had taken civilian jobs at Fort Sam Houston. Samantha called them on holidays, birthdays, and other special occasions, but that was the extent of their communications as far as I knew.

This lack of communication within her family didn't bother me. I was perfectly fine with Samantha and me being everything to each other and not having any bothersome relatives offering their advice or opinions about our life together. I neither encouraged nor discouraged Samantha where her family was concerned. Hence, my surprise when Samantha mentioned her interest in visiting her sister in Manteca and then visiting her brother in San Francisco.

We drove Samantha's car to her sister's house for a long weekend and had to stop and call twice to clarify the directions. Samantha had never been there so she was not familiar with the location. I didn't see any interactions between Samantha and her sister to indicate that they held any strong connection, familiar or otherwise. While Samantha was beautiful and graceful, her sister was dowdy, rotund, and unkempt. It was almost like spending the weekend with someone that we had just met at the supermarket.

Samantha and Doris spent most of our first afternoon there discussing their younger brother. Both sisters had recently learned from their mother that little brother, Jerry, had been diagnosed with HIV/AIDS. Jerry was a true momma's boy growing up and their mother still doted on him from a distance. She insisted that Doris try to visit with Jerry every month and to take him the money or gifts that were sent to Doris' house for him since he never seemed to stay in one place too long.

Early the next morning, Samantha and I were on Interstate Two-Eighty west, heading for San Francisco. She had called Jerry and arranged for us to meet him for lunch someplace close to his place of work. During the drive, Samantha regaled me with stories about her brother and how Jerry had been obviously homosexual from his earliest childhood. She then wanted to discuss Jerry's diagnosis and what that meant. Doris had told her that while he had tested positive for HIV/AIDS, he had not yet exhibited any symptoms.

Samantha decided that keeping Jerry's spirits up and giving him something to live for would increase his chances of staying healthy. To this end, she wanted us to buy him a kitten. I asked if where he was staying would allow him to have pets. She made me pull off and find a payphone so that she could call Doris.

When she came back to the car, she informed me that we were going to not only buy Jerry a kitten, we were also going to pay the pet deposit that his apartment manager required. My girl was on a mission, and I was as happy as ever to be her trusty sidekick.

To look at Jerry, you would never suspect that he was gay. He was five-feet-ten-inches tall and had to weigh two-hundred-fifty pounds. His thinning blonde hair and bushy beard had me questioning why Samantha was giving a hug to the gravel truck driver who had just entered the Denny's where we were supposed to meet her brother. Standing still and silent, Jerry was the poster child for masculinity. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak or took two sashaying steps, his homosexuality emerged in all its flaming glory.

I have no problem with any person's sexual orientation or preferences unless they involve children. I mention Jerry's appearance only because it was in such contrast to everything else about him, and I find such contrasts interesting.

After Samantha made the introductions, we spent the next forty-five minutes listening to Jerry share details about his life, his various lovers, and his work as a janitor at a massage parlor. He then began giving us movie recommendations.

"The Lion King is precious," Jerry exclaimed. "It made me cry almost as much as 'City Slickers' does every time I watch it. The scene where Billy Crystal brings Norman the calf home with him has to be one of the best in cinematic history."

I had seen the movie, 'City Slickers', when it came out on video a couple of years back and found it was humorous and enjoyable. Jerry thought it was the best movie ever made. To each his own.

Before Jerry had to return to work, Samantha took charge of the conversation to inform her brother of her plans to buy him a kitten and pay the pet deposit for him. She made it clearly understood that he had no say in the matter and that when he got off work, we would have a kitten in a carrier waiting for him.

"A co-worker's cat just had kittens that he is trying to find homes for," Jerry said. "Can I get one of those instead of you buying me one?"

"That's fine," Samantha told him in an authoritative tone, "but we're still going to meet you after work to drive you to your apartment to pay the pet deposit and drop off all the things that you are going to need, such as food and a litter box."

With brother and sister in agreement, Jerry returned to work and we set out to find everything that a responsible cat owner could possibly need. I found a PetSmart store in a busy retail center and was even fortunate to find a parking space under some shade.

We didn't have a cat, and I didn't even know if Samantha ever wanted a cat, but I do know that she seemed to know everything that a cat owner would need to keep their pet happy and healthy. From food to scratching post, we got it all. She selected matching ceramic bowls, one for food and one for water, followed by several catnip-filled toys, a litter box, and clumping litter.

As we were returning to our car from the pet store, Samantha noticed that the retail center also had a Michael's craft store. She left me with the cart of cat supplies and said, "I want to paint the cat's name on the dishes for Jerry. Why don't you put those things in the car and meet me in Michael's?"

I did as requested, smiling all the while. By the time I found her in Michael's, she was ready to check out. I carried the larger than necessary plastic bag containing the little bottle of white paint and paintbrush back to the car while Samantha jabbered happily beside me.

Samantha took her seat on the passenger side, removed the items from the plastic bag, and spread the bag across her lap while I retrieved the two ceramic bowls from where I had stored them. She was ready when I handed her one of them, with the bottle of paint sitting open in the cupholder.

"How do you know what Jerry is going to name the cat?" I asked her.

"Oh, come on," Samantha said in an exasperated tone. "You know as well as I do that he will name the cat 'Norman' after that silly calf."

I laughed and headed around the car. I had just taken my seat behind the steering wheel when Samantha asked, "But what if it's a girl cat?"

I shrugged and said, "Just drop the 'N'."

Samantha sat silently considering my solution for a few seconds before looking at me like I had made the stupidest suggestion ever. She said, "Orman? What in the hell kind of name is Orman?"

She was getting madder by the second, unable to fathom what was so funny to make me laugh so loudly and for so long. I finally calmed enough to explain, "The other 'N'."

All I heard was a very embarrassed, "Oh..."

~~~

Linda didn't speak to me unless she couldn't avoid it, and she was very good at avoiding it. I did however learn of her plans when my son mentioned them one Saturday. I think he was mad that his mother had made him spend time with me while she allowed his sister to use Girl Scout events as an excuse not to.

My financial situation had improved dramatically since the divorce had become final. Of course, I needed to credit some of that to Samantha's contributions, but the biggest factor was my increase in income following my last promotion. If the plans that my son shared were accurate, my financial situation would soon benefit even more.

Bryce let it slip that he and Paige would not be able to spend time with me in two weeks because they would be helping their mom move all of their stuff into Cosmo's new house. He told me that his mom planned to rent out the old house after they had all moved in with Cosmo.

I was about to benefit once more from Linda taking legal advice from a guy that made his living welding metal furniture pieces together. Cosmo had assured Linda that the divorce decree would require me to keep paying the mortgage on the house until Paige turned eighteen, completely ignoring the stipulation that the kids had to be living in it. He also convinced Linda that as long as she and he didn't get married, I would be required to continue paying her spousal support even if she moved in with him.

The first visitor that Linda received at Cosmo's house appeared within ten minutes of them moving the last box in. She called me within five minutes of being served the summons to appear before our original judge from the divorce. Unfortunately for her, Samantha answered the phone instead of me.

"Who is this?" Linda snarled when Samantha answered.

"My name is Samantha Barrett. Who are you?"

Samantha had reverted to her maiden name after her divorce from Jimmy. It was a lot of hassle, but she felt ridding herself of that spelling bee elimination word for a last name was worth it.

"I want to speak with AJ," is all that Linda said.

"Why should I give a rat's ass what you want?" Samantha calmly said. "I don't even know who you are."

"Listen, Bitch, I am his wife..."

"No, you're not. AJ isn't married."

"Fine. I am his ex-wife and the mother of his children. Satisfied?"

"I won't be satisfied until you are out of our lives permanently," Samantha retorted. "And, I understand that you have taken steps to bring that about much faster. Thank you."

"Are you that skank that AJ has been shacking up with?"

"If you're the lying, cheating, biker slut that AJ dumped, then I must be the skank. Are you she?"

"Put AJ on the phone."

"No."

"Then tell him to call me."

"No."

"Then I'll just come over..." Linda started to say.

Samantha laughed and said, "Listen you worthless whore. If by some stretch of the imagination you could figure out where we live, showing your face in front of me would be the second biggest mistake of your life, right behind losing AJ because of your stupidity. AJ divorced your ass and has no legal obligation to ever speak to you again. If there is anything that you or your Neanderthal lover want to say to either myself or AJ, contact his lawyer. Do not call here again."

I was just walking in the door after returning from the video store when Samantha had spoken the last sentence. I watched her place the cordless handset back on the charger and smile at me.

Samantha giggled and said, "If you're curious, it appears that Linda has been served."

"Good. Hopefully, this will be the last month that I have to pay her anything but child support. We need to start looking for a realtor. I want to get the house listed just as soon as the judge rules on my petition."

"How much do you think you'll get for the house?"

"A house with a similar floorplan a few blocks over sold last month for two-hundred-sixty-nine thousand," I said. "The mortgage balance on our house sits at just under fifty-thousand. I want to price the house to sell fast, but even at the low end of what houses in that area are going for, I would expect Linda and me to split close to two-hundred thousand after realtor fees and the like."

"That would be nice. What did you rent for us to watch?"

"I got you 'The Naked Stranger' with Barbara Dare and I got 'The Pleasures of Innocence' for myself."

"Can I see them?" Samantha asked.

I handed her the two videotapes and watched as she reviewed the cast and plot summary on each box. She smiled up at me as she handed the boxes back.

"Do they look okay?" I asked.

Samantha stepped over and put her arms around me and said, "You know that anything with Barbara Dare in it is fine with me."

We had fulfilled every one of Samantha's original list of fantasies, except one. She had still not experienced sex with another woman. She insisted that her fantasy involved her and me with another woman and that she had no interest in being solely with a woman. When Marlene and her husband Steve had visited us, Samantha tried to think of a way that she could get Steve to go off on his own somewhere, but she was not successful. She knew that Marlene would have been willing to experiment with us, but it just was not to be.

Samantha talked me into taking her to Black's Beach down by San Diego once the weather warmed up enough. She was disappointed that while we were at the topless beach, it was populated predominantly by gay men on the prowl rather than women seeking topless sunbathing.

When we had started watching adult movies together soon after we had purchased a television and VCR player, Samantha discovered that she would get especially heated watching Barbara Dare in a scene with another woman. If the scene included Barbara Dare, another woman plus a man, Samantha would be insatiable for hours afterward. The movie I selected for her today should please her.

Though Samantha claimed not to see it, I thought that Jennifer James, who performed under the name "Angel" resembled Samantha more than her own sisters did. The sexy innocence and stylish grace often portrayed in her scenes reminded me of my girl, and I never tired of watching her, especially with my own angel sitting beside me.

~~~

The judge was not kind to Linda when we went before him again. In addition to severing her spousal support and approving the sale of the house, he also revised the original settlement so that she was no longer entitled to any of my retirement or 401K. He lambasted her for "gross deception and attempted fraud" due to her cohabitating with a man while receiving spousal support from me, but especially for her attempts to rent out a house that I had been required to pay the mortgage on.

I walked out of the court responsible only for maintaining medical insurance on my kids and monthly child support of fifteen-hundred dollars for each. That would last less than six months since Bryce would be turning eighteen in September, after which I would be responsible for Paige four more years.

Samantha was maintaining more frequent contact with her brother Jerry out of concern for his health. This led to her speaking on the phone with her mother much more often as well, which in turn led to Samantha suggesting that we fly to San Antonio so that she could introduce me to her parents.

Arrangements were made for us both to take a week off from work, then I booked our flights and reserved a rental car. Over the two weeks before our trip, Samantha told me more about her childhood and her relationship with her parents than she had shared with me in the almost two years that we had known each other.

According to Samantha, until her son had been born, there had only been one person in the world that her mother had shown any affection for, and that had been her husband. The three daughters were as idolized by their father as they were ignored by their mother. Despite this, it was obvious to me that Samantha loved and respected her mother, and I believe that a lot of the loving devotion and care that Samantha displayed towards me in our relationship was a result of how she saw the relationship between her father and her mother.

I think many of us form mental images of people who are described to us before we meet them, and often those images are so far off that it's comical. Such was the case with Samantha's parents. She had built her dad up as this tough-as-nails career Army drill sergeant who brooked no nonsense from anyone. In her eyes, he was infallible, unbeatable, invulnerable, and immortal. The image in my head was a mix between Jack Webb's character in the classic movie, 'The D.I.', and John Wayne from one of his old World War Two movies. Samantha's father, Jerry Barret senior, looked more like Barney Fife from the Andy Griffith Show.

Her mother, Claire, was tall, muscular, and devoid of any noticeable curves. Jerry junior obviously took after his mother's side. The best thing that I could say about her appearance is that she shared the same beautiful eyes as Samantha. I could also tell, as soon as I walked into their house, where Samantha had learned to keep such an immaculate home.

They had purchased a three-acre lot from the developer when former Texas Governor John Connolly's Eagle Creek Ranch was subdivided. They had a sixteen-hundred square foot ranch-style house built on the lot but hadn't done much else with their property.

Her parents were wonderful hosts to us, chauffeuring us about to show us the sights around San Antonio and exhibiting genuine interest in our lives back in California. I liked the behind-the-scenes tour that they gave us of historic Fort Sam Houston, eating at the Grist Mill along the banks of the Guadalupe River, and spending time playing cards at their house or going to one of the local bingo parlors.

The thing that I enjoyed most, however, was working alongside Samantha to clear a section of her parents' lot of overgrown shrubs and downed tree limbs. While Samantha burned the waste, I dug post holes to complete the field fencing around their property that her father had been working on. Samantha was brimming with pride as her father and mother both hugged her in appreciation for our help.

I found both of her parents to be easy to talk to, intelligent, and obviously completely devoted to one another. I also found them to self-absorbed as parents, perfectly content to have all of their kids and grandkids thousands of miles away so they didn't have to get too involved in their lives. However, Samantha seemed really happy to be spending quality time with her parents and I could tell that the experience meant the world to her. I kept my opinions to myself.

Samantha wasn't her typical talkative self during the flight home. We had a few discussions on mundane topics such as whether or not to give my Nissan pick-up to Bryce as a graduation present, but I sensed that Samantha's thoughts were elsewhere. I decided to broach a subject that I hoped would bring her attention back to earth.

"Diamonds, emeralds, or both?" I asked her.

She finally focused her attention on me and said, "In what context?"

"How about in the context of a ring? If you could have any stones you wanted on your engagement ring, which would you choose?"

Now I had her attention. She smiled warmly as she considered my question and said, "You remembered. When I brought you with me to the goldsmith to pick up my repaired bracelet, I told you how beautiful that ring with the large emerald surrounded by baguette diamonds was. If Jonathan could design and make something like that, I would love it."

"And what about your wedding ring?"

"He should be able to design a complimentary band that would match up to the shape so that the two would fit together perfectly."

"So, you would be okay with us going to see Jonathon next week to talk about getting the rings made for you?"

"No, but I would be okay with us going to see Jonathon to talk about him making rings for both of us. I have an idea for your wedding band too."

I guess that I had just proposed and Samantha had accepted. Am I a romantic devil or what?"

~~~

Both of our careers were humming along. Money was no longer an issue and we had built a comfortable savings nest egg in our now joint accounts. The old house sold quickly for the asking price so Linda and I each netted a little over ninety-seven thousand.

Samantha had gotten the ring that she wanted designed and wore it proudly, but we hadn't spent any time discussing our actual wedding plans.

Samantha had to work the day of Bryce's graduation from high school, so I went alone. I was pissed that neither his mother nor sister decided to attend, but he was thrilled with the truck that I gave him and my offer to help him with his insurance for six months.

Since I had the luxury of working from home, yet still had my office at the company available for my use if I wanted, I leveraged the flexibility of being able to drive Samantha to work and then pick her up to delay making a buying decision on a new vehicle for myself. We shared her car for most of the summer until the year-end clearance sales on cars began. We went together on a Saturday to one of the larger auto malls where we could check out multiple makes and models in one location.

Samantha wanted me to get something more classy and luxurious than another pick-up truck, but I liked the utilitarian benefits that a truck provided. Knowing that she would never deny me, and the choice was ultimately mine, I still sought her input and advice as we looked at virtually all the mid-size and full-size pick-up truck selections. She was so happy with our decision to buy the Dodge Dakota extended cab with all of the bells and whistles that she was the one who got to drive it home.

The temperatures where we lived usually stayed pretty mild throughout the year, which I suppose is why Samantha didn't bother getting a car with an air conditioner when she bought her Honda. Late in the summer, the temperatures remained in the mid to high nineties almost every day. It didn't take much convincing on my part to get Samantha to use the new truck for her commute to and from work. I couldn't convince her to get a new car, even though we could have easily afforded one, but she did agree to let me have an after-market air conditioner installed in her car.

We decided to spend the Labor Day weekend in Santa Barbara. I could tell that Samantha had an agenda when she had suggested the trip, but I had no idea what it might be. Before we had reached Camarillo on the One-Oh-One freeway, Samantha had folded up the center armrest in the truck to expose the full bench seat and began to unbutton my pants. She kept me aroused and on the brink for the remainder of the drive to Santa Barbara.

Over the next three days, we left the room only to eat and watch the sunsets. By the time we started for home, Samantha had crossed off every item on her agenda, including my agreement to spend Christmas at her parents' house. Oh, and for us to get married while we are there.

~~~

Tell me that politicians have our best interest at heart and I will believe you. Tell me that the Earth is flat and I will believe you. Tell me that John F. Kennedy committed suicide and I will believe you. Tell me that the conversation that I just overheard was Samantha preparing to cheat on me, and there is no way that I would believe you.

Samantha had called to tell me that she was running some errands after work and would be a little later than normal, so I fed and walked Snapper without her. When we had returned from the walk, Samantha was home, but she didn't hear us come in the front door because she was on the phone in our bedroom.

As I entered the bedroom, I saw her back as she was walking into the master bathroom, holding the phone to her ear and continuing her conversation. She didn't notice me, but I did notice the bag from Victoria's Secret sitting on our bed.

I was just about to peek inside the bag when what I could hear of her side of the conversation brought me up short.

"Kevin even went with me to Victoria's Secret to help me select the lingerie that I will be wearing when we get together tomorrow. I've told Janet that I need a couple of hours of sick leave tomorrow for a dentist appointment."

Janet was Samantha's supervisor, and I was surprised to hear that she would be deceiving her about what she needed time off work for.

"Oh, don't worry," Samantha giggled. I now suspected that she was speaking with Marlene. "AJ will get to enjoy the new lingerie once Kevin and I are through."

That comment prompted me to at least glance into the bag on the bed. I wanted to be able to recognize the lingerie that she planned to share with some other guy before me. Fuck, it was hot!

"Every woman I've spoken to who has been with Kevin claims that they were nervous at first, but he makes them feel so sexy and beautiful that they calm right down and really get into it with him. Just meeting him today for the first time reassured me that I could do this."

So, she hasn't cheated yet, but it sounds like she is planning to do something with this guy tomorrow. I couldn't believe this.

"Of course AJ doesn't know about Kevin. I have to keep it a secret until we've finished. I'm not sure if we'll only get together once or if he'll want me to come back. Some women have been with him two or three times from what I hear."

I could hear Samantha heading out of the bathroom so I quickly stepped out of the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. I was washing Snapper's food dish when Samantha came into the kitchen and saw me at the sink.

She walked over and kissed me on the cheek, saying, "Hi, Sweetie. Sorry, I'm late. What would you like for dinner?"

She had changed into a dark blue satin sleepwear set that I had bought her a few months back, from Victoria's Secret. Rub it in.

I turned off the sink and said, "I had a late lunch and don't want to eat too much now this close to bedtime. Make yourself whatever you want."

She came up behind me, wrapped her arms around me, and snuggled against my back. She felt wonderful being pressed up against me, and the scent of her perfume was having its usual effect on me.

She said, "I'm not hungry enough to motivate me to eat something by myself. I can wait for morning, especially if you join me in bed and give me something else to think about besides food."

Oh, I'd give her something to think about alright. I would give her the wildest night of sex that she has ever had and make sure that there was nothing left of her for this Kevin guy tomorrow, whatever they had planned.

I couldn't believe that Samantha would cheat on me, but something was definitely going on. I was feeling a little more reassured the next afternoon as I discretely followed Samantha from her work to the Main Place Mall. She was glowing with post-coital bliss this morning so I was hoping that she had blown off her plans to meet up with this Kevin character. However, I couldn't dismiss the possibility that since she had gone shopping with him yesterday at Victoria's Secret, they could have arranged to meet in public again today before going someplace else together.

If I followed her into the mall, I would probably be out of position to follow them if they went out another exit and left in his car, but seeing them together would likely be good enough to convince me of her intentions anyway. I gave Samantha plenty of space but was still keeping her in sight as she rode the escalator up to the second level of the mall. The garment bag that she was carrying made her easier to track. When I too had reached the top of the escalator, she was just walking past the Victoria's Secret store. I watched as she entered the store next door.

I didn't want to get too close and give her an opportunity to catch me if she came back out of the store too soon, so I reviewed one of the mall directories. It took me a few seconds to pinpoint the Victoria's Secret store on the map, but it only took one glance to find the store next door to it.

I laughed with relief all the way to my office. I now had a pretty good idea what Samantha was up to, but I wanted to check out a website to confirm my suspicions. Got it.

The Glamour Shots location in the Main Place Mall was owned by one Kevin Farquhar. In addition to the makeover and glamour photos, which were taken only from the waist up, women could also arrange to have boudoir photos taken there. That was Samantha's secret. All I had to do now is act surprised when the time came.

I could hardly wait.

Chapter Six

Samantha and I arrived in San Antonio late in the afternoon on Sunday, December eighteenth, and drove directly to her parents' house. The sky was clear, but the temperature was not expected to climb out of the thirties.

We had asked her parents to let us take them out to dinner, where we had a pleasant time updating them on our wedding plans. Samantha wanted to keep things simple, so she had asked her parents if we could just get married by a local minister in their living room on the following Friday. We told them that if they agreed to stand with Samantha and me during the exchange of vows, that there wouldn't be a need for anyone but the four of us and the minister to be present.

Her parents were fully on board with our plans, so while they maintained their normal work routine, Samantha and I spent Monday and Tuesday arranging for our marriage license at the Wilson County Courthouse and identifying a local minister who would be free on Friday and willing to perform the short ceremony for us. We also made certain to practice for our wedding night as often as possible while her parents were both at work.

Other than presents for my kids, which I had dropped off for them the Saturday before Samantha and I had left, there weren't a lot of other people that we intended to buy Christmas presents for. I had used some of my frequent flyer miles to get Marlene and her husband, Steve, round trip tickets to Raleigh, North Carolina so that they could go visit his family after the new year, so that was their Christmas present.

I had a new Palm Pilot personal organizer wrapped for Samantha as her Christmas present, and I'm pretty sure that her present to me was going to be the pictures of her that Kevin Farquhar had taken. We spent Wednesday and Thursday trying to find a suitable gift for her parents. Samantha had no qualms about invading her parents' privacy while they were at work, opening every cupboard and drawer to get an idea of what they would want or need. We ended up buying them a Traeger wood pellet smoker that she felt that her father in particular would enjoy.

Samantha looked more beautiful than ever in her sequined cream-colored tea dress. I wore a black suit with that first blue dress shirt that Samantha had given as a Christmas present and a conservative tie. From the time that the minister had knocked on the door of her parents' house until I paid him for his services and shook his hand bidding him farewell, our wedding took less than fifteen minutes.

Samantha once told me that she had spent her first wedding night in Army barracks. Being a civilian, I couldn't match that experience, not that I would have tried. I had made a reservation at the historic Crockett Hotel across from the Alamo in downtown San Antonio. We only stayed the one night since the next day was Christmas Eve and her parents were expecting us to stay with them, but between her lingerie looking even better in person than I imagined it would in the pictures, the in-room hot tub, and Samantha's enthusiasm, one night was likely all we could have safely endured without regretting it.

The quiet, private Christmas shared with Samantha's parents was perfect. Her parents were excited to try out their new smoker and spent a good portion of the day trying to decide whether they wanted to smoke ribs or a brisket first while Samantha and I laughed at their loving discourse. Her parents gave me a new toiletry bag, while Samantha received a new pair of earrings from them.

I acted surprised when I opened my present from Samantha and saw the framed photo of her beautiful face. Kevin had truly captured her essence and I immediately recognized that she had been thinking of me at the time the camera shutter clicked because the same look of love that she expressed only for me was obvious in her eyes.

I was even more surprised when Samantha freely shared the rest of the photos with her parents. I mean, there was nothing crude or distasteful in any of the boudoir photos, but I could tell that her father was a bit uneasy seeing his youngest daughter so scantily clad, and in some rather suggestive poses. I think he was relieved when I collected all the photos and told Samantha that I would treasure them always.

"Buried in a treasure chest would be a good place for them," her father teased. Samantha kissed his cheek and we all laughed at his blushing face.

Her parents returned to work on Monday, so Samantha and I had the house to ourselves and made the most of it for our honeymoon. We did venture out on Monday afternoon just to do a little sight-seeing. We took some of the local roads that we hadn't been on before just to see where they led and came upon the land sales office to the new subdivision just down from her parents'.

"Can we go in and see what's available?" Samantha asked.

We had never discussed owning land, especially someplace thirteen hundred miles from where we lived, but I was an uxorious groom on his honeymoon. How could I say no to my bride?

The sales lady was very low-key. She gave us a map of the development that indicated which lots were still available to purchase and invited us to drive around to check them out. I drove as Samantha navigated.

The streets to the subdivision were all accessed off of one Farm to Market road. The map wasn't topographical so we didn't know if a particular lot had any streams running through it or a significant slope that would make building a house on it more problematic until we examined each lot in person.

We could tell that certain lots backed up to a planned horse and hiking trail, and Samantha's directions through the streets indicated to me that she had an interest in these lots.

"Why this sudden interest in looking at lots?" I finally asked.

"I don't know. The area reminds me somewhat of the area around Fort Sill where I grew up. I think that is part of it. I've also been thinking about what's going to happen when my parents get old enough to need one of us kids to look after them. Doris and Ellen both have families and far less flexibility to relocate than I think you and I have or will have in the future. If we might consider moving out here at some future time to assist my parents, it could be a good investment to buy some land now and hold on to it."

I considered Samantha's explanation. I had more than twenty years before I would probably consider retirement, and her parents were still only in their fifties and seemed to be relatively active and healthy. The likelihood that they would need one of their kids close by to assist them for ten to twenty years didn't seem that urgent.

"Okay," I said, "If we see a lot that we like, we'll go talk to the sales lady about it. I'm not convinced that holding onto a piece of property and paying the taxes on it for several years would be a good investment for us, but I'm willing to listen."

Samantha leaned over, kissed me, and said, "I knew there was a reason that I liked you."

We stopped and walked more than a dozen lots, but Samantha kept going back to the features of the first one we saw. It was an almost perfect three-acre rectangle that backed up to the proposed trail and had a small stream that cut across the far-right back corner. When the stream had water in it, there was also a small depression that would likely fill with water to form a pond. These features were far enough from the flattest part of the lot where a nice-sized house could be built about thirty yards back from the road that we would see them only if we made the effort to do so.

Upon returning to the sales office and sitting down with the same sales lady, she explained that many of the lots already sold were owned by people from out of state. Like us, they had wanted to lock down the lot of their choice so they could build on it when the time was right for them.

The lots were currently selling for five-thousand dollars an acre because the subdivision was pretty new. Once people started to build on the lots, the value of land in the area would increase significantly. She showed us charts that indicated the property taxes on undeveloped land would never exceed the yearly increased value of the land, regardless of how many years we held on to it.

I figured that we could check with Samantha's parents on that and get their advice on the whole idea before making a decision. Samantha must have been reading my mind again because that's what she told the sales lady before asking for one of her cards and assuring her that we would be back in a day or two.

Samantha's parents were helpful and informative but did not encourage our decision one way or the other. I could tell that Samantha either didn't notice or chose to ignore that her mother, in particular, seemed extremely reserved where the thought of Samantha and I living so close to them was concerned.

What mattered to me was making Samantha happy, and if owning land near her parents would accomplish that, then that is what we would do. We signed all the papers and I wrote out the check to purchase the lot the next day. I was hoping that by the time that Samantha wanted to do something with the land, her parents would have warmed to the idea of having their daughter as a neighbor.

~~~

On December thirty-first, we returned to Orange County on the morning flight and spent a quiet afternoon and evening watching movies together on the television. We had boarded Snapper with our veterinarian and I could tell that Samantha was disappointed that we wouldn't be able to go get her until January second, but glad at the same time because Snapper would be not be bothered by the New Year's Eve fireworks while safely inside the kennel.

Before the Internet blossomed, girly magazines provided visual titillation to the masses. Beyond the popular Playboy and Penthouse magazines, there were several others, typically dedicated to specific sexual proclivities or preferences. Samantha liked those that published erotic stories, either integrated with images of people in poses mentioned in the story, or stories without images. I would always try to find reading material for her while on business trips, and I always enjoyed the reward that followed.

Samantha refused to have a television in our bedroom. She had no issues with having a nightstand packed with magazines containing her favorite stories. Some of our most imaginative and passionate sex occurred as a result of a story getting Samantha revved up.

She would prop herself up against the headboard and read, while I used my mouth and fingers to stimulate and tease her to the brink. She never read the stories aloud, which meant that I had to be extremely attentive to her body to ensure that she was able to finish the story before she achieved an orgasm. Samantha liked a slow buildup because it delayed her orgasm. Then when it hit her, it was intense and lasted a long time.

Let me pause here to say that Samantha had a unique storytelling ability. What I mean by this is that she could relate details of an event, a movie, or a book with more clarity and detail than anyone I had ever known. When she finished relating the tale, you would have believed that you had been standing beside her when the event unfolded, had watched the same movie, or read the same book.

The story that Samantha was reading on that New Year's Eve was in an issue of 'Club' magazine that I bought for her while we had been awaiting our connecting flight in Dallas, so it was new to her. I sensed that the story had caught her attention early, due to how soon I was needing to back off to prevent her premature sexual release. The story was a long one, allowing me to carefully bring her to several plateaus without letting her go over the edge.

When I felt Samantha dropping the magazine onto the bed beside her, it was my signal to stop holding back. Her body's response was immediate, powerful, and prolonged. I couldn't wait to hear the details of that story. As Samantha began to calm, I crawled up to lay next to her on the bed and she snuggled against me to continue recovering.

We lay cuddled together silently listening to the sound of fireworks outside. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand and whispered, "Happy New Year, Mrs. Janson."

"Happy New Year, Mr. Janson. Are you sure that you don't mind me keeping my maiden name? Maybe I should use both names and hyphenate them?"

"I am perfectly fine with you retaining your maiden name. We don't have kids, so there are no potential issues there. It will cause confusion as it did with the land, because we bought it as husband and wife and both of our names are on the paperwork, but they're not the same. We can deal with those instances when they come up."

"I just don't want you to ever doubt how proud I am to be your wife."

"I will never doubt that," I assured her. "Now, do you want to share with me what you found so arousing about the story that you just read?"

"In a minute. Can I ask you a question first?" Her tone was serious.

"Sure."

"Do you think that there will ever be a time when I will get to taste you when you cum, and I don't mean tasting what you have shot into or onto me but have you directly place it in my mouth?"

"I always do my best, Babe. It's not that I don't want to give you what you desire, I just can't ever to get over the way I feel that I would be taking something for myself rather than giving something to you."

"God, I wish I could prove to you just how wrong you are in that way of thinking. I wish that I could convince you that you are giving me the power over your pleasure, and how much pleasure that gives me. You've accepted every gift I've ever presented to you. Why is it so hard for you to accept this one that I want to give you so badly?"

"Is it that important to you?" I asked, even though this conversation had effectively answered that question.

"Yes, AJ, it is, and I think that story gave me an idea of how we might be able to overcome the mental block that has been preventing you from giving me what I want."

"What was the story about?"

Samantha opened the drawer in the nightstand on her side of the bed and retrieved a bottle of flavored lubricant that she kept there. She said, "I think I would rather show you..."

When she massaged my prostate for the first time while stimulating my erection with her mouth, I couldn't help but give her the present that she wanted.

~~~

"How long do you think it would take for you to help me find a new job there?" Samantha asked.

We were snuggling on the couch, each with a dog lying beside us with its head on one of our laps. When I had picked Snapper up from the kennel after our return from Texas, I ended up adopting a ten-year-old male Sheltie named Houdini, whose owner had recently passed away. I couldn't let the handsome guy end up in a shelter or worse, and Snapper loved having a companion.

For the last three months, Samantha had been taking it upon herself to keep reminding me that our lease on the house was coming up for renewal, and asking if we wanted to sign up for another year in this house or possibly look at buying a house of our own.

I knew what she wanted, but I played her game until she finally broke down and confessed that she would prefer for us to build a house on the lot near her parents rather than buy something here that we would have to sell when we eventually moved to Texas.

"It would depend on what type of position you would be willing to accept," I replied. "Salaries in San Antonio are going to be lower for the same type of work than they are here, but that is offset by a lower cost of living and no state income tax. As always, my primary motivation will be finding something for you that you will enjoy. Why don't you ask your parents to start sending us the want ads section from the Sunday paper each week when they're done with it?"

"That's a good idea. I'll call my mom tomorrow, but I'll ask for the entire classified section. We will also need to start trying to find someplace that we can rent until we have a house of our own."

"Good point," I said. "I'll begin contacting movers to start getting estimates. It will be hard without knowing the exact dates for our move, but it will give us ballpark figures that we could compare against."

"Maybe we should set a target date," Samantha suggested.

"It couldn't hurt," I agreed. "What did you have in mind?"

Samantha reached over and into her purse, pulling out her Palm Pilot. She said, "Let me check the calendar."

"Would June be too soon, do you think?" she asked. "That's when our lease expires but I'm sure that we could extend things for a month or two if necessary."

"We should target earlier in June if possible," I suggested. "I would prefer to be moved in someplace before the peak summer season arrives in San Antonio. It can get pretty unbearable."

Samantha was still reviewing her calendar. She asked, "You don't want to wait until after Father's Day?"

"For what?" I asked. "Bryce and Paige both completely ignored me on my birthday and Christmas. I'm not holding out any hope that they'll have a different attitude about me by the time Father's Day rolls around."

"I'm sorry, Sweetie, but we both know that someday they will each regret the way that they have treated you. Linda is such a bitter, vile, and evil woman, and I can't understand why your kids don't see that."

She nudged Houdini, who was resting his head on her lap and then reached over to tap on Snapper's head on my lap.

She said, "Okay pups, time to get down. Go to your beds so Mommy can love on Daddy for a while."

Both dogs immediately jumped off the couch and headed for their beds in the laundry room. Samantha turned and scooted back so that her head was resting on the arm of the couch and her bare feet were in my lap. I picked up one of her feet and kissed the top of it, then repeated the process on the second one.

I knew that if Samantha wanted me to give her a foot massage to start with, her intention was to help assuage my discomfort over what she would do for me later. She was going to transition into what I teasingly called her "Momma Monkey" mode and she didn't want me to feel any guilt over the pampering and attention that she was going to bestow upon me.

I'm not going to claim that no man in the world couldn't be loved more than me, but I will profess until my dying day that no man in the world is shown more love than me. Physically, spiritually, sexually, and emotionally, Samantha took complete responsibility for me, just as she promised she would do. People noticed the changes in my hairstyle and wardrobe and were always complimentary, but the changes that Samantha made in my spirit and in my capacity to love and trust another person so completely and unconditionally were known only to the two of us.

Samantha always insisted that the effects that my love had on her were just as visible to people as hers were with me, if they only knew what to recognize. People who knew her before we got together, such as Marlene, apparently saw the changes and had commented on them to her. But, the loving glow and passion in her eyes whenever she looked at me was all I had ever known. The love that I saw in her had always been ethereal, and I knew her no other way.

Massaging one foot at a time, I asked, "Did you pamper your first two husbands as much as you do me?"

Samantha reluctantly opened her eyes and looked over at me. She asked, "Why?"

"While I never saw you with anyone other than Jimmy, the interactions I saw between you didn't seem very personal, and certainly not intimate. Of course, by the time that I met Jimmy, you had already decided to leave him, so I can't assume that there wasn't a time earlier in your relationship with him where you felt differently."

She moaned softly as I massaged the area on either side of her Achilles tendon then said, "I never had any desire to pamper my first husband, Luis, Vic, or Jimmy. I cooked and cleaned for them, but they weren't you. With you, I had a desire to do things for you from that night that you drove me home the first time with my bike. I think that is one reason that I wanted to help you organize Mr. Yoshida's visit. I felt compelled to do whatever I could to make you happy, knowing that it would make me happy to do so. I was right."

I began massaging her other foot. I recalled how Samantha's mother had doted on her father constantly and recognized the same tendencies in Samantha towards me. She wasn't overbearing or intrusive, but she seemed to know my wants and needs, often better than I did. Samantha had dedicated herself to my comfort and happiness, and I felt deficient in showing her the same dedication.

There was another Doug Stone song that came to mind which I took solace in, titled "I Was Too Busy Being in Love". It wasn't an excuse, but I felt that if I focused more on making certain that Samantha knew how much I loved and treasured her in my life that she might forgive me for not pampering her as much as she did me. I was confident that she knew that if there was anything in this world that I was capable of giving her, all she had to do was to make her desire known.

In addition to her pampering of me, she viewed her sexual teasing of me and our lovemaking as romantic, and to some extent it certainly was. I was the rose petals on the bed, sappy love notes, and dinners by candlelight type of romantic, but those gestures were usually wasted on Samantha. She loved getting flowers, however, and if I gave her a present that benefited both of us, such as a new nightgown, she made the most of it for our mutual pleasure and satisfaction.

"I was never very good at accepting gifts or help from anyone before you," I admitted to her.

"I know. My instinctive concern for your happiness was the first hint that I had that you were going to mean more to me than anyone I had ever known. Recognizing that you allowing me to join you when you really didn't need my help was the second hint. You don't need me to pamper and care for you, but your love for me won't let you deny me, and I love that about you."

Samantha sat up and pulled me over to position my head in her lap. "You would make the most wonderful mother," I said smiling up at her.

I knew that Samantha was physically incapable of having children due to complications from an ectopic pregnancy when she was with Vic. I also knew that she saw that as a blessing rather than a curse.

She began running her fingers through my hair and said, "No, I wouldn't, I would be my mother. While I would certainly love my children, they would always be a lower priority to me than you, and they would come to realize that. We all loved our dad more than our mom because she loved him more than any of us. I think your kids sensed that when I met them for the first time. I also think that they sense the same thing with Linda, which makes their devotion to her over you that much more puzzling to me."

"Me too," I admitted. "I can assure you though, that there is no way that I would have let Linda pamper me the way that I do with you, not that she would have ever wanted to. Everything was always about her and what she wanted or needed. Where the kids are concerned, I may not have been with them as much as Linda, but I was always there for them when it counted. What mother misses her son's high school graduation?"

"And what son accepts that behavior without question?" Samantha asked.

I looked up at Samantha and said, "I'm not a psychologist, but I think that Bryce has always tried to win his mother's love. Linda probably does love her son, but she always struggled with him being a disappointment to her. First, he was unplanned and came at a time when Linda was too immature to take decent care of herself, let alone an infant. She smoked during her pregnancy, which is probably what contributed to his low birth weight and possibly his later attention deficit disorder. Secondly, Bryce was always impulsive and hard for her to cope with as a toddler. Her agoraphobia kept her trapped in the house with what to her was an unmanageable child. I did what I could when I was home to show them both the love and affection that they didn't have between each other, but it wasn't enough apparently."

"Did she ever abuse him?" Samantha asked.

"Not physically, but there was some verbal abuse which I'm sure influenced Bryce feeling that his mother didn't love him. When Paige came along, Linda had the perfect little girl who never caused her any problems, and she would constantly compare Bryce's behavior to his sister's. As they got older, Linda would blatantly let Paige go places and do things that she denied Bryce. It was like Bryce was an embarrassment to her and Paige wasn't."

"It would be hard to believe that Linda's behavior towards Bryce didn't affect him in some way," Samantha agreed. "So, you suspect that he is siding with her over you now in an attempt to please her?"

I just shrugged.

Samantha had been unbuttoning my shirt as we chatted, and I now felt her running her fingers through the hairs on my chest. She was smiling down at me when she said, "I think that we need a husband and wife spa day this weekend. You need a manscaping and I could use a full-body massage."

Besides cutting my hair when needed, part of Samantha's pampering of me included her keeping my chest and pubic hairs trimmed to a length that suited her. In exchange for letting her "manscape" me, I got the privilege of massaging her beautiful naked body for as long as I wanted to.

I would tolerate her loving caresses of my body, but I don't like massages, from Samantha or anyone else. (Okay, she had found one massage that I really liked, but that was it.) I also would tolerate her clipping my finger and toenails, but I wouldn't let her give me a full manicure and pedicure. She could pluck out an ingrown hair that she found on me, trim my nose hairs, or shave my face, but there were still a few things that I resisted from her or anyone else.

"We have our league bowling on Saturday afternoon," I said. "Do we have anything on Sunday?"

Samantha smiled down and said, "We do now. I'll make blueberry muffins for breakfast Sunday, but how would you feel about riding down to Charley's Chili for breakfast on Saturday?"

Right after we moved into the rental house, while I was buying Samantha a puppy, she was buying me a mountain bike almost identical to hers. We had been sharing rides on the various trails and frequently rode together down the Santa Ana River trail to where it met the Pacific Ocean between Huntington and Newport Beach. Using the residential streets between Pacific Coast Highway and the beach itself, we would wind our way to the Newport Beach Pier.

Depending upon the time of day, we would either grab breakfast at Charley's Chili or ice cream at one of the beachside vendors before riding back home. I was always so proud when I saw Samantha in her riding shorts and sports bra turning more heads than any of the bikini-clad beauties along the beach.

While our rides to the beach were leisurely, by mutual agreement, the ride back home from the beach was always a race between us. The ride home was intended to be a cardio workout for us, and always resulted in two sweaty bodies arriving together, breathing hard from laughter as much as the physical exertion.

I learned that heat, whether from the outside temperature or physical exertion seemed to throw a switch inside Samantha. When her body was sweating, whatever the cause, her animal instincts were revived. All she wanted to do was rip my clothes off and get me inside her. There was no love or tenderness, just two people using each other's bodies for sexual pleasure and release.

We barely made it to bowling on time.

Chapter Seven

Although Samantha and I seldom disagreed on anything and would each bend over backward to always put the happiness of the other first, there were still times when life's disappointments challenged us.

I am not anyone's pushover, but where Samantha was concerned, I was a willing and tolerant masochist when her emotions drove her to lash out at the world, and she found me to be the most convenient and safest target. Whether it was due to PMS, someone cutting her off for a parking space, someone at work disrespecting her, or any other cause, I wanted her to always feel safe to vent her emotions on me.

For me, it was a realization that the only reason that I was in a position for Samantha to express her negative emotions was that she loved me enough to share her life with me. Nothing she said while upset was ever taken as personal by me. I was the only man in the world who got to see her natural beauty the first thing in the morning. I was the only man who had the pleasure of making love to her. I was the only man that she gave herself to one-hundred and fifty percent. I was the only man in the world that she trusted enough to share all her emotions with. I was the luckiest man in the world, and I knew it.

I am very effective and productive at multi-tasking, but I suck at multi-concentrating. Managing a variety of tasks doesn't usually require much more than discipline and rudimentary organizational skills. However, the thing that has made me a great troubleshooter of problems is my knack for locking my focus and attention onto something at the expense of everything else, entering what essentially is a type of fugue state.

This carries over into my personal life as well. For example, I don't listen to music while reading because I can't devote complete attention to either. The same is true with anything that I believe deserves complete rather than partial attention; I zone out and focus on one thing.

The problem for Samantha is that she can't easily tell when I am singularly focused on something and not paying any attention to her. We laugh at the number of times when she claims to have told me something that I have no recollection of, but I know that it bothers her.

I acknowledge that I am bastardizing the word when I use 'frustrate' as a noun, but I don't care.

I accept that I am not a friendly frustrate. I never have been, and probably never will be. I don't get frustrated easily, and when I do, it's typically over some action that I expect to be much easier than it turns out to be.

Discovering that the last screw on something that I was disassembling was cross-threaded when it was installed, making it nearly impossible to remove, trying to use solder on copper pipes that wouldn't flow properly when heated due to its or the flux's age, getting the screw for the blades on a ceiling fan to stay on the tip of the screwdriver long enough to get them started in the hole, any of those examples would tend to frustrate me to no end.

I'm sure it's a female versus male thing, but I could never get Samantha to understand that when I was frustrated, she should just back off and leave me alone until it passed. However, it isn't in her nature to see me struggling with something and not try to make it better. This, unfortunately, resulted in far too many instances where I snapped at her attempts, and she took it personally.

Which is the reason why she gave me the silent treatment the morning that we left for our new home state of Texas. The movers had ignored my specific instructions not to load my toolbox into the moving van, which left me with only a small Leatherman multi-tool to finish removing shelves and fixtures that belong to us from the rental house.

This made several of the tasks more challenging than they had to be, and I was already tired and not in the best of moods. Samantha's continuous offers to help or suggestions to "Just leave it," resulted in me finally snarling to her "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

As soon as I said the words, I knew that I had hurt her feelings, but prompt and sincere apologies were wasted. Samantha took the dogs with her into the bedroom and I didn't see her again until she came out the next morning, dressed and ready to pack up the remaining items into her car and the back of my truck. She didn't say a word to me the whole time.

Our plan was for us to caravan to Texas, with her leading in her car and me following behind her with the dogs in my truck. When she started her car and raced away from the house while I was still getting the dogs situated on the back seat of my truck, I figured out that she might have altered our plan a bit.

Once the dogs were situated, I went back into the house to place the keys on the kitchen counter as we had agreed with the owner. I walked the house one more time to ensure that all the doors and windows were secured and that we hadn't forgotten anything. Satisfied, I pulled the locked front door closed and headed after my wife.

I had planned on us stopping at a Seven-Eleven to buy coffee before we got onto the freeway, but Samantha's actions changed my mind. I wanted to get on the freeway and try to catch up to her before she got too far ahead. Naturally, I hit every red light between the house and the freeway onramp.

Turning onto the onramp, I saw her car parked along the right shoulder. She stood leaning against the back of her car with two cups of coffee in her hands. When I pulled in behind her car, she started towards me. I put the truck in park and got out to meet her.

Samantha grinned up at me and kissed my lips before saying, "Had you going, didn't I?"

I took the cup of coffee that she offered me, set it onto the top of the truck cab, and pulled her into my arms. "Thanks. I'm sorry again for snapping at you."

"It's okay, we were both tired and cranky. How are the pups doing so far?"

I laughed and said, "The first half-mile has been a breeze."

"Okay. Do you want to stop for breakfast soon, or can you wait?"

"The coffee should hold me for a while. There's a Denny's along Interstate Fifteen just before we transition to Interstate Eight. Let's plan on stopping there."

She nodded and said, "That should put us close to our first two-hour break for the pups to get out, so let's go. Turn your headlights on if you need me to pull over before then."

I leaned down and kissed her before she turned and wiggled her perfect blue jean-clad bottom at me while walking back to her car. I was back in the driver's seat of the truck in time to follow her up the onramp.

~~~

The trip to Texas was uneventful for the most part. Samantha had initially planned on us stopping every two hours to let the dogs out, but when I described how content they had been just to lay on the floorboard in their beds while I drove, she agreed to extend the breaks to be just when we needed to stop for gas or food for us.

We spent Wednesday outside of Tucson in the first motel that we found which accepted pets. Thursday night found us in Fort Stockton, Texas, and we pulled up to her parent's house late on Friday afternoon. This is when Samantha saw a side of her mother that she had either forgotten or had chosen to ignore.

Her parents came out of their house when they heard us pull up. Samantha got out of her car and hugged both of her parents while I got the dogs out of the back-seat area of my truck and walked them on their leashes to where the others were standing.

Samantha took Snapper's leash from me and said to her parents, "Let's get the pups settled, and then AJ and I would like to take you both to dinner."

She started towards the front door but was interrupted by her mother saying, "I don't allow animals in the house. Please leave them outside."

Samantha turned with a shocked look on her face and asked, "Since when? We always let the dogs in the house in Oklahoma."

Her father seemed to be avoiding the conversation as he knelt to pet Snapper.

Her mother said, "Dogs belong outside. I made a concession for your father that allowed him to let the dogs into the mudroom when the weather outside warranted, but they never came inside any further than the mudroom. These aren't your father's dogs and we don't have a mudroom, so please leave them outside."

Samantha walked back to stand beside me. I saw her looking around her parent's property. There was still nothing on it but the house. No garage, no shed, and no other structures of any kind. Sure, the yard had field fencing all around it, so the dogs wouldn't be able to get out, but their only shelter would be the small overhang at the front porch.

Addressing her mother, Samantha asked, "The last time we were here, you told us about your neighbors losing cats and small dogs to coyotes, and you want me to leave my dogs outside?"

Her mother checked the time and said, "There should be someone at Pine Hills Animal Hospital until six. You could probably board the dogs there for a few days."

"That's okay," Samantha said. "We'll make other arrangements. I'll call you once we get settled in the rental house in case you want to come by to see it."

Her parents didn't say anything further as Samantha and I got the dogs back into the truck. After kissing me, Samantha returned to her car and I got back into the truck. I followed her out to the subdivision entrance where we both pulled over to the side of the road. She got out of her car and walked back to the truck where I was standing to meet her.

"You don't mind spending a couple of more nights in a motel, do you?" she asked.

Pulling her into my arms, I said, "Not when you always show me just how much the idea of spending the night in a motel with a married man turns you on."

She laughed and said, "It really does you know. Let's head back towards San Antonio and find a place that will accept the dogs until Monday."

Samantha had to begin her new job on Monday morning, while I was scheduled to meet the realtor to get the keys to the rental house at eight, in time to let the movers in when the truck arrived at nine. Staying closer to the area would make things much more convenient for both of us.

We found an extended-stay suites motel off of Wurzbach and Bandera Roads that placed us just a few blocks from our new rental house. I fed the dogs and got them settled while Samantha drove over to the closest HEB store to pick up groceries to tied us over, especially coffee for in the morning.

The dogs were down for the night and Samantha and I were getting ready for bed when she finally brought up her mother's behavior, "I didn't realize it until my mom mentioned it today, but the dogs we had growing up were always my dad's. He encouraged all of us kids to play and take care of them, but my mom never did have anything to do with them. She really must have just tolerated them to keep my dad happy."

I nodded and said, "That could be. He seemed disappointed when we decided to take the dogs and go."

Samantha said, "I may be off-base on this, but when I think about how my dad always loved having dogs when we were growing up, I was surprised that my parents don't have a dog now. I wonder if my mom purposely selected a floorplan for their house that didn't have a mudroom, garage, or another area where a dog might have been allowed."

Staying at the extended-stay motel presented us with other benefits besides keeping the dogs with us. Samantha always felt restrained on the nights that we spent at her parent's house, and while we had made love there, she typically wanted to do so only when her parents were at work so that she didn't feel the need to be quiet. The motel provided her with that freedom, and she made sure that we took advantage of it.

The motel also provided us with an opportunity to explore the neighborhood around the rental for a couple of days before moving in. Samantha was especially pleased to find access to a community park just a few houses down, at the end of our street. As we drove through the neighborhood, we recognized that it was very family-centric, with families riding bikes, playing catch, or simply chatting with their neighbors.

Other advantages that we saw and discussed concerning the location of the house were its proximity to Samantha's new job at Lone Star Water Filtration Systems, the easy access to several stores that we felt we would be patronizing regularly, such as a Home Depot, and finally, it was only a quick half-hour drive to our lot down in Wilson County.

We weren't in any hurry to start building on the lot, and we agreed that the experience would be more meaningful for both of us if we put the sweat-equity into clearing the lot and getting it suitable for the construction of a house ourselves. Working one, and sometimes two weekend days at the lot would probably take us more than six months to get all the sawgrass, scrub brush and dead trees cleaned up.

Samantha and I were both looking forward to us working together to clear the land, but these were not the romantic illusions of some pioneers. My occasional frustrations aside, Samantha and I always worked well on anything that we did together, and we expected that preparing our land would hold true to that promise.

~~~

On Monday morning, Samantha left the motel for her new job just after seven. It was only a five-minute drive, but she wanted to get there and hopefully have most of her new-hire paperwork completed before eight. I fed and walked the dogs, but decided to leave them at the motel until after the movers had finished unloading the truck at the rental house.

I was parked waiting on the street across from the rental house for the realtor when he showed up right at eight. He pulled into the driveway and I crossed the street to meet him. He had his mobile phone to his ear, in deep conversation with someone as he tossed me a set of keys and pointed to the front door of the house. I took this to mean that he expected me to unlock it while he continued his conversation, so that's what I did.

While he stood on the front porch talking on his phone, I walked through the house doing an inspection for any damages or needed repairs that we would want to be noted before taking possession of the house. I also verified that the utilities had been turned on per the arrangements I had made last week from California.

I turned on faucets, flushed toilets, flipped light switches, checked door and window locks, everything. In the kitchen, all the appliances were checked and verified to function properly. The garage was empty and clean. The chain-link fence around the backyard was in good shape. I was impressed with how great a job that Samantha had done locating and selecting this house from thirteen hundred miles away.

The realtor finally joined me on the back patio and asked, "Everything check out?"

"For me, yeah, but my wife will give it a more thorough inspection when she gets here this afternoon. Are you ready to settle up?"

"Sure. Your wife sent the security deposit so all I need from you is for you both to sign the lease agreement and a check for the first and last months' rent."

"I'll write you a check for the rent, but as I said, my wife won't be here to sign the lease until this afternoon. Can I drop it off to you someplace tomorrow?"

"Just hold onto it," he said. "I'm in this area all the time, so I'll stop by and pick it up later this week if that's okay."

He handed me the lease agreement to review. We had agreed to a one-year lease with an option to terminate after six months without penalty if our new house was completed earlier. We didn't expect that it would be, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

After I wrote him the check to cover the rent, I asked, "Where do we send the check each month?"

He handed me one of his business cards and said, "Just mail your checks to me at this address."

We both turned at the sound and looked out the front room windows towards the street at the moving van approaching. "I better move my car out of the driveway before it gets blocked in by your movers," he said. "Call if you have any questions."

"We will. Thanks."

I walked out with him and motioned for the driver of the moving van to wait a minute. The realtor quickly got in his car and backed out of the driveway. The moving van was then positioned across the driveway to facilitate its unloading.

This was the same crew that disregarded my instructions when they were loading the truck, so I was going to make certain that they followed them while unloading it. I opened the roll-up door to the two-car garage and waited for their crew chief.

If they followed my instructions, this would be a quick and easy unloading process for them. The various pieces of furniture would go into the designated rooms, but everything else, which was mostly boxes, would go into the garage. I hated stumbling over and around a bunch of boxes while trying to get them unpacked, so I learned long ago to stage all the boxes out of the way and bring them in only when you were ready to unpack them.

The movers listened for a change. I wasn't too concerned about the placement of things like couches and chairs because I knew that Samantha would want to position everything to her liking once she got home and saw how things fit in the new house. I just had them put the furniture for a particular room in that room and left it at that.

Even getting them to properly stack boxes in the garage went better than I had anticipated. They actually paid attention to make certain that heavier boxes were placed at the bottom of each stack, and that the labeling identifying the contents of each box was facing the right direction. They were done within two hours.

Since I still had two hours before I needed to check out of the motel room, I located the large garment boxes that I knew contained Samantha's clothes and moved them into the master bedroom. I knew that she would want to get those unpacked to give her more selection of things to wear to work. I then located her bathroom stuff and moved those boxes into the master bath. Then, I set about putting our bed together and getting the air mattress inflated. I'd find the box with the bed linens later.

When I returned to the house after checking out of the motel, I opened the sliding glass door to allow the dogs to explore the house and the back yard while I unloaded my truck. It only took me a couple of trips, but when I entered the kitchen from the garage on the last trip, I heard serious barking coming from the back yard. It was the friendly yipping of playfulness.

I looked out the sliding glass door and saw a boy of around ten years old tossing a ball to a white German Shepard in the yard next door. Snapper and Houdini wanted to play too and they were making their desires known with their barking. Suddenly, the tennis ball that the boy was throwing sailed over the four-foot chain-link fence. Snapper was on it immediately, proudly running around our yard showing everyone that she had captured that pesky ball as Houdini chased behind her.

Now the German Shepard was barking as the boy stood at the fence trying to coax Snapper to bring him back the ball. I walked out into the yard and called Snapper. She came rushing to me and dropped the ball at my feet.

"Good girl, Snapper," I said as I picked up the slobbery tennis ball and headed towards the fence.

"I'm sorry," I said to the boy as I tossed him the ball. "When I get their balls unpacked, they'll have more than enough and won't be quite as anxious to play with yours."

The little boy caught the ball and ran back into his house without saying anything. Within seconds, I heard the back door to his house open again and saw what I assumed was his babysitter coming towards me with the boy in tow.

"Hi," she said. "You must be our new neighbors. My name is Dora Arrington and this is my son Peter. Welcome to the neighborhood."

Her son? I looked closer and saw that her diminutive figure and pixyish beauty denoted an innocence that likely made a lot of people misjudge her age. She was probably close to the same age as Samantha. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was tied back in a high ponytail, and her sparkling blue eyes smiled brightly up at me.

"Hi, Dora, I'm AJ. My wife Samantha and I just arrived today. Who's the big fella there?" I asked, pointing at her dog.

She smiled and answered, "This is King. He's really friendly once he gets to know you, but he may growl a bit until then."

"Samantha is going to love him," I told her. I remembered all the stories about the dogs when she was growing up, and they all involved a German Shepard.

Dora glanced past me towards the house and asked, "Is your wife here? I would love to meet her."

I shook my head and said, "No, she had to start her new job today which is why I am trying to get as much settled before she gets home as possible..."

"Is there anything that I can do to help?" Dora asked. "If you wouldn't mind Peter playing in your backyard, I can come over for a couple of hours to help you unpack and stuff."

"I appreciate that, but I wouldn't want to impose, especially on our first day here."

Dora laughed and said, "Oh, please, you would be doing me a favor. In addition to giving me a break from Peter's homeschooling, I would get to spend a little time with an adult for a change. Let me lock up and we'll be right over. I'll bring you some ice tea if you want."

I smiled at her take-charge attitude. It reminded me of something that Samantha would do. "Thanks. I'll meet you out front."

Dora felt that it would be best to let the dogs get used to each other through the fence before introducing them without it, so Peter carried three tennis balls with him when he ran into my backyard. He stood at the fence between the two yards and threw balls to each of the dogs before waiting for them to return it to him and repeating the routine.

Dora was a little dynamo. I explained that except for my home office, I didn't want to put anything away until Samantha had seen the house and decided where she wanted things to go.

"Do you think that she will want dishes and such to go someplace other than the kitchen?" Dora asked me.

I chuckled and said, "No, that's a pretty safe bet, but she'll want to put stuff where it is most convenient for her to find."

"I can understand that. How about if you bring in the kitchen boxes and I'll just unpack them onto the counters and dining room table for now? If she's anything like me, having the stuff out of the boxes will help her visualize the space required for things and make putting them away much faster and easier."

I spent the next two hours shuffling full boxes from the garage to the kitchen, and then carrying the empty boxes out to the garage and breaking them down. Just before three in the afternoon, Dora called it quits.

"I better get Peter home and my own house prepared for the imminent arrival of our Lord and Master."

I could tell by the twinkle in her eye that she was joking with me. "Lord and Master, huh? It sounds like you and Samantha might have a great deal in common."

With a grin, Dora said, "Do tell..."

I laughed and said, "I think I'll let you and Samantha have that discussion on your own."

"Fine, but I can already tell by the consideration you have demonstrated towards her today that if she considers you her Lord and Master, it is probably well deserved by you."

"Trust me, if I lived to be five-hundred years old, I would never deserve Samantha. She is in a class by herself."

Dora walked to the sliding glass door and called Peter into the house. She turned to me and said, "My husband, Keith will be home by four. Why don't you and your wife come over any time after four-thirty? I'll have Keith barbeque some burgers for everyone since your kitchen isn't in any shape for meal preparations tonight. It will give us a chance to meet each other's spouses. What do you say?"

"I'll run your invitation by Samantha when she gets home, but I'm sure that she will agree to accept it. I'll need to get our bedroom ready in the meantime so that she doesn't feel the need to spend time on that instead, but I had planned to do that anyway."

"Good," she said as she steered her son towards the front door. "You get on it and we'll see you later."

~~~

I was organizing the drawers of my desk in the home office when I glanced through the blinds and saw Samantha pull her car into the driveway. She didn't have a remote for the garage door yet, so I knew that she would have to come in through the front door. I hurried to open the door and met her on the porch.

"Welcome home," I said as I quickly scooped her into my arms and carried her across the threshold. She was giggling as I set her down and closed the door.

"My husband is a nut. Everything go okay today?"

I took her hand and led her towards the master bedroom as I said, "Yeah, the movers were in and out within a couple of hours and I've been getting the things I was certain about unpacked. How was your first day at work?"

Samantha shook her head and said, "I always thought that my wedding ring set was pretty prominent, but it was completely invisible to all the men I met today at work. I sense some serious face slapping is in my future at Lone Star if the butt pats and groping I witnessed today is any indication of the culture there."

"I'll keep my eye out for something else now that we're here," I told her.

I checked the time on the alarm clock next to our bed as we entered the room and saw that it was four-thirty-five. Samantha was inspecting the room and how I had arranged the furniture.

"We can change anything you want," I explained. "I just wanted to get the bed ready for tonight so that you wouldn't have to worry about it. I put our clothes into the same dresser drawers as before and the walk-in closet is all yours. My clothes are resting comfortably in the office closet."

Samantha kicked off her shoes and said, "Well, since you've taken all of the most immediate tasks off my plate for this evening, I guess the only other significant item left is making love to my husband."

She walked into the closet and turned on the light to help her locate hangers for the suit that she was wearing. Once those items were hung, she came out of the closet and started removing her pantyhose. "Where do you want to go for dinner?" she asked.

"We've been invited next door by our new neighbors," I said. "Why don't I go feed Snapper and Houdini while you get ready?"

"You've already met the neighbors?"

I nodded and said, "I met the mother and son. She came over and helped me unpack a few things while the boy kept the dogs company in the back yard. We're supposed to meet her Lord and Master when we go over."

"Lord and Master? What kind of relationship is this?"

I pulled Samantha into my arms and said, "From what I have seen and been told, it reminds me a great deal of our relationship. Dora, that's her name, seems to have the same loving devotion to her husband as you have for me. She proudly admits that she pampers and protects her husband, just like you always do."

Placing her hands on either side of my face and bringing my lips to hers, Samantha kissed me deeply. She then said, "Lord and Master, huh? I kind of like the way that rolls off my tongue. So, My Lord, why don't you go feed our pups and I'll get ready to meet our new neighbors. I don't want to stay too late, though. I think I want to explore this 'Master' role with you tonight."

Chapter Eight

I had never seen two people bond so quickly and completely as Samantha and Dora did.

Dora had been raised in upstate New York as the only daughter of an Air Force officer and his devoted wife. Her father had been stationed at Plattsburg Air Force Base, but they lived off base in a small town called Schuyler Falls. Dora had met the handsome young airman from Boston at the mall when she was fifteen. Her parents wouldn't allow her to date until she was sixteen, so Dora and Keith became pen pals. They did allow her to invite Keith to their house for holidays and birthdays and were not concerned in the least about the six-year age difference.

Just like Samantha, Dora married Keith immediately after graduating from high school, when she was still only seventeen. She followed her husband to every duty assignment she could, and stayed with her parents when his location was unsuitable for her.

Their son, Peter, was born on Dora's twenty-first birthday and had been a true blessing because Dora was told that she wasn't producing enough eggs to make getting pregnant much of a possibility for them. It was obvious that both parents worshipped their son more than life itself.

When we had arrived at the Arrington's house, I witnessed something that I had always believed was unique to Samantha and me. I saw a wife displaying total, true, unapologetic love, and pride when she looked into her husband's eyes. Dora looked at Keith the same way that Samantha always looked at me.

Samantha and Dora formed a simpatico relationship that first evening that amazed Keith and me.

Keith was career Air Force and was a Technical Sergeant assigned to some logistics wing at Kelly Air Force Base. He explained that he was the civilian equivalent of a warehouse manager. He worked Monday through Friday from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon, when he would rush home to be with his wife and son.

We didn't have a lot in common besides our wives' relationship, but we frequently found opportunities to help each other out. For example, I helped him install Windows 95 onto their home computer and taught him how to use it. He helped me install shelves in the garage to give us more storage space. Keith also had lots of good advice for me on where to get the items that would make clearing our lot go much faster and easier.

Samantha and Dora didn't see each other every day, and they never chose the company of each other over their husbands, but they found ways to communicate and stay informed about each other and their lives. I know that Dora was always aware of any business trips I had planned because she would always ask what she could do for me while I was gone besides make certain that the dogs got let out into the backyard a few times each day. It was almost like having a second wife.

We had been living in the rental house for almost six months when Keith caught me alone in the backyard one Sunday afternoon. "Hey, AJ, got a minute?"

I responded by walking over to meet Kevin at the fence, "What's up?"

"I leave Tuesday for TDY at Eglin Air Force Base. It's only supposed to last for three months, but for some reason, Dora is taking it harder than usual. Has Samantha mentioned anything to you about it?"

"No, not a thing. What do you mean by Dora taking it harder than usual?"

"I don't know. She just doesn't seem as brave and confident in being here without me as she usually is."

"I'll be glad to ask Samantha about it today when she gets home from shopping, but you should reassure Dora that either myself or Samantha will be here every day while you're away. We won't let anything happen to her or Peter."

"I think she knows that," Keith said, "which makes her apprehension over me being gone more puzzling to me. Anyway, let me know if Samantha shares anything with you."

Samantha couldn't add anything to quell Keith's concerns over Dora, and she didn't want to interrupt the short time that the family had together before Keith had to depart on Tuesday morning. However, by Tuesday afternoon, it became obvious to both of us that Dora had changed.

Dora seldom wore makeup, and she didn't need to. Her natural, innocent, country-girl image turned heads without any effort, and her bubbly personality attracted both men and women to her easily. She wore almost exclusively casual clothes, but she wore them in a way that always would make Keith proud of her as his wife. When I saw her enter her backyard Tuesday afternoon with Peter, I barely recognized her.

Her normally healthy and lustrous blonde hair hung limply to her shoulders. She wore cut-off sweats that I recognized as belonging to Keith. She had the drawstring pulled so tight to hold them up at her waist that there were several fabric bulges obvious under the t-shirt she wore, which I also recognized as belonging to Keith.

When I glanced over at her, I saw dark circles under her eyes that I had never seen before. When she saw me looking her way, she shyly waved and then took a seat on her patio to watch Peter play ball with King. I walked out to the fence and said, "Do you and Peter want to come over for dinner tonight?"

Dora stared at the patio as she slowly shook her head.

"Do you want me to send Samantha over when she gets home?" I asked.

It took several seconds as Dora considered my question before she slowly nodded in the affirmative.

~~~

I didn't wait for Samantha to get fully changed before describing Dora's condition to her, but I knew that if I didn't at least wait until she had undressed, she would have rushed over to her friend in her work clothes. I didn't think that Samantha's professional beauty would be the image that Dora needed to see right then.

"Are you coming with me?" Samantha asked while tying her tennis shoes?

"I don't think that we should gang up on Dora right now. You go over and see what you can learn from listening to her. If you need me to come over, just call the house phone. Also, feel free to send Peter over to stay with me if you or Dora want him out of the way."

Our house phone rang less than five minutes later, "Hello?" I said.

"Hi, AJ, it's me. Can you run to the store and pick up a few things for Dora if I give you a list?"

"Of course. What does she need?"

Samantha dictated a short list of items to me, which I wrote down as she did so. I loved how specific and detailed my wife always was when asking me to buy something. She never neglected to provide a specific brand and size that she wanted. And, while I know that she would forgive any mistakes on my part, she felt that it was her responsibility to provide me with all the information I would need to avoid making a mistake.

"Okay," I said. "Do you want me to bring the stuff over when I get back?"

"No, I'll listen for you to drive up and then I'll come over and get it." Samantha lowered her voice to a whisper and added, "Dora would be embarrassed for you to see her right now."

"Understood. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Samantha described Dora's condition to me when she came out to get the groceries and it was like déjà vu for me from what I had experienced with Linda in our first years of marriage.

"She's never had these panic attacks before?" I asked Samantha.

"I don't think she realized that panic attacks were what she was experiencing," Samantha said. "I'm going to stay with her for a few hours and try to get her calmed down some more. I don't think I'll need to spend the night with her, but let's play it by ear."

I kissed her and said, "Do whatever you think is best for Dora, and call me if there is anything that you need from me. I'm going to be in the office doing some research for us."

"You're the best, AJ," Samantha said as turned and carried the groceries next door.

You can debate whether it was coincidental or providential that I had found this particular file folder while unpacking my office during our move. It contained all the research that I had compiled almost twenty years previous on agoraphobia, its symptoms, and how to treat it. I pulled it out once again and set it on the center of the desktop to share its contents with Samantha when the time came.

I pulled out the White Pages and searched for the Military OneSource -- Family Assistance Program. I knew that with all of the military bases in and around San Antonio that there had to be at least one local location where Dora should be able to get in to see a counselor within a day or two. I wrote the details down on a sheet of paper and left it on top of the file folder.

Samantha came home after about an hour. She joined me in the office and began to fill me in on Dora's status. "She's talking to Keith right now. I think that knowing that he has arrived and is safe will be enough to keep her calm for the rest of the evening, but she'll probably have Peter sleep in her bed with her tonight."

I slid the folder over to Samantha and asked, "Did you get any idea what triggered things with her? According to Keith, she was acting apprehensive for a few days which he said is out of character for her."

Samantha came around and sat on my lap. She said, "No, but I think that I have an idea that I want to try with her tomorrow if you're okay with it."

"I'll do whatever I can. What's your idea?" I asked.

Looking me directly in the eyes, Samantha said, "I want to share you with her."

My eyebrows raised in surprise, which caused Samantha to giggle. "Let me clarify," she said. "I want to share my pampering of you with Dora."

She continued, "I'm going to ask her to fix you a hot lunch tomorrow, explaining that I feel that I am neglecting your meals while I am at work. I know that she always made Keith something hot that he could warm up for his lunch. I want to try and get her to accept you as a sort of surrogate for lunch. I'm not sure if the task will get her to leave the house, and you might get asked to go over there to eat your lunch..."

"Well, if you can talk her into it, I'll go along," I assured Samantha. "It would provide me with an opportunity to talk to her about what I went through with Linda, which might encourage her to get some counseling sooner rather than later. Do you think that you can get a telephone number for Keith so we can get him involved in our efforts to help his wife?"

Samantha checked the time and said, "I ask for his number when I go back over in a few minutes. I want to make sure that I give them time to also have Peter talk to his dad. Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

"No, I heated up some of the left-over casserole from last night. Would you like me to heat some up for you?"

"That actually sounds good," Samantha said as she rose from my lap. "Come on, you can keep me company while I eat."

~~~

Dora was not a semblance of her old self for several weeks. We could see progress daily, but her self-confidence and enthusiasm for life still waned. It wasn't until Keith could come home for a weekend that anyone heard her laugh.

Samantha and Dora had become closer than sisters and the trust that developed between them transferred from Dora to me. When she got an appointment to meet with a counselor, she asked me if I would go to the appointment with her. She wasn't inviting me to sit through the session with her, but she still needed someone that she trusted to be close by.

I happily agreed, and three times a week, I would drive her and Peter to the Family Assistance Program office. While Dora had her counseling session, Peter and I would hang out at a playground nearby. Dora would often relay to me what the counselor has prescribed for her to practice before the next session to gauge my opinion on how useful it might be.

In reading between the lines from the things the counselor instructed Dora to do, I surmised that the counselor believed Dora was questioning her self-worth and felt that her only value to Keith, while he was away from home, was as a babysitter for his son. She had become so focused on Keith's physical comfort and happiness over the years, that the absence of the simplest things, such as preparing his meals, left Dora feeling worthless.

The counselor started by trying to get Dora to expand in her heart and mind the perspective of Keith and their relationship. She wanted Dora to embrace that her pampering and care for her husband should extend beyond his physical being to include his environment, namely their home. Dora began identifying little projects around their house that the two of them had discussed undertaking, such as painting some room a new color, or changes to some landscaping feature. Then, Samantha and I would encourage her to tackle it for Keith while he was gone.

Dora was someone important to Samantha, so there isn't anything that I wouldn't do to support her. I trusted that Keith would have done the same if roles had been reversed. While I agreed with the counselor that Dora benefited from expanding her perspective of her relationship with Keith, I also thought that finding ways for them to maintain more of their intimacies that were critical components of their relationship would do wonders for her.

I knew from helping Keith with his computer previously that he had a personal America Online account. I took it upon myself to set Dora up with her own AOL account and then spent an afternoon teaching her how to use e-mail and instant messaging in particular. I would then leave it to Samantha to coax Dora into whatever online interactions with her husband that she felt comfortable with.

"Hey, Soldier, buy a girl a drink?" was Samantha's comment as she came into our house the first night after discussing with Dora the ways that she and Keith could 'play' with each other on AOL. Samantha was giddy and giggling as she relayed to me how enthusiastic and eager Dora was to try teasing and pleasing Keith from almost eight-hundred miles away. Samantha made me very glad that we had no similar distance issue at the time.

Showing Dora all the new ways that she could channel her love for Keith had her back to her cheerful, outgoing self within a month. At Samantha's urging, Dora did become my "office wife"; making certain that I had a hot lunch, no one disturbed my work, and keeping the dogs occupied during the day. Either King or Peter would let her know every time that I took a break and went out to the backyard, and she would be at the fence between our yards with a glass of ice tea before I got there.

I had shut down early on a Friday afternoon and gladly accepted the glass of tea from her as we stood at the fence. Dora smiled up at me with friendly affection and my heart melted. Who couldn't adore this little Bobby Sox beauty? I knew that Samantha did, so that decided for me.

"Hey, Dora," I said, "Do you know anybody in the neighborhood who could babysit Peter for you tomorrow night?"

"Why?"

"I have a special night planned for Samantha and I know that it would be even more special for her if you could join us."

"What do you have planned?"

I laughed and said, "It's not that I don't trust you, but I don't trust you. Samantha is too good at wheedling information from people when she suspects that they know something. It's best that you know as little as possible."

"I wouldn't want to be a third wheel," Dora said.

"Oh, you wouldn't be. I'd make sure of that. I just know that this is something that Samantha would want to share with you, even if she doesn't know what it is yet. Can you make it?"

"How long would I need a sitter for?" she asked.

"I would imagine from seven until midnight should cover it," I assured her. "I'll even pay for the sitter in appreciation for you making this more special for Samantha."

"In that case, I'll ask Karen Mendez across the street to keep Peter overnight? How should I dress?"

I smiled down at her and said, "Dress like you're trying to steal Keith away from another woman."

~~~

"You bastard!" Dora said for about the sixth time since we had started the drive home. "I should make you find an open grocery store where I could buy a freaking cucumber at least."

Samantha sat between Dora and me on the bench seat of my truck, trying and failing not to laugh at her friend's frustration. She told her, "When we get home, I'll loan you a few things to help with your situation."

Dora huffed and said, "I shouldn't be in any 'situation'. I've never been attracted to another female before."

Samantha held Dora's left hand in her right. She gently squeezed it and said, "That's only because you never knew who Barbara Dare was until tonight."

The special night I had planned for Samantha was made possible through a coworker of mine who had a subscription to some national strip club guide. I had asked him months before to keep an eye on where Barbara Dare was scheduled to appear as a featured dancer and to let me know if she would be anywhere near San Antonio. When he told me that she would be at the "Sugar's" location north of San Antonio this weekend, I decided to take Samantha to see her.

Neither Samantha nor Dora knew where I was taking them, but they both dressed for a night of clubbing. Samantha wore a slinky, dark-blue satin cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and a lace hem that ended mid-thigh. Dora wore a red cocktail dress that emphasized every nook and cranny on her deceptively sexy little body.

Once we pulled into the parking lot for Sugar's and Samantha could read the marquee, she knew immediately what my plans for her tonight probably entailed, but she kept Dora in the dark. When the bouncer at the door teasingly instructed both women that they should be using the employee entrance in the back, they started giggling and didn't stop until we had found a booth. The ladies sandwiched me between them and settled in for the show.

Drinks began appearing for the ladies before we could place our first orders. None of us were big drinkers, but we each had a two-drink minimum that we had to meet. It looked like every guy in the place was trying to meet their drink minimum by buying drinks for Samantha and Dora, and they were all disappointed when the ladies refused the offered drinks.

When the offer to buy them a drink didn't succeed, the wolves started getting more direct, approaching our booth to try and strike up a conversation with one or both of the ladies. When one of the bouncers saw that some of the guys were not being dissuaded by the ladies holding up their wedding rings and shaking their heads, he took up a position standing behind our booth and made it clear that the ladies in the booth were off-limits. I didn't have to, but I tipped him a hundred dollars at the end of the night.

Between the cover-charge, the rental of the private Champagne Room, and several lap dances from Barbara for Samantha and Dora, the night had cost me almost two-thousand dollars, but the sexual tension radiating off my wife told me that it was money very well spent.

The obvious problem was that Dora was now as sexually charged as Samantha was, with no husband at home to help her relieve the tension that had built up inside her.

"Do you think it will be too late to call Keith when you get home?" I asked Dora.

"No, he is expecting my call," Dora said. "Why? Do you think having phone sex will satisfy me tonight? Ha!"

I placed my right hand onto Samantha's left thigh and began gently caressing it through the fabric of her dress. When I knew that Samantha was paying attention, I answered Dora, "I was going to suggest that you discuss with Keith the option of you spending the night at our house."

Samantha perked up and said, "That's a great idea!" I knew that she would understand where I was going with my offer.

"How could that be a great idea?" Dora countered. "I'll just end up frustrated more at the sound of you two..."

Samantha dropped Dora's left hand from her right and then used it to start gently caressing Dora's thigh just as I was doing for her. She said, "AJ is offering to share me with you tonight."

Dora was silent for several minutes before softly saying, "I can't cheat on Keith."

Samantha said, "I think that's why AJ asked if it was too late for you to call Keith tonight. Explain to him what we are offering and see if he is okay with it."

Dora was shaking her head, and said, "I can't ask my husband for permission to have sex with another man. Simply asking the question would kill his trust in me."

"Dora, I have no intention of sharing my husband with you or any other woman. The offer is for AJ to share me, his wife, with you. All three of us would be in bed together, but you and AJ would not be involved with each other at any time. I will be the center of attention for both of you."

"Maybe you better explain things better," Dora said.

Samantha spent the next fifteen minutes relating details of her fantasy of being shared by me and another woman, giving pleasure to two partners at the same time in different ways, and being pleasured by both simultaneously.

The scent of both wives' arousal was becoming more pronounced in the tight confines of the truck cab. By the time that I pulled into our driveway, it was obvious to all of us that Dora was excited at the prospect of participating in Samantha's fantasy.

I went around to open the passenger door and helped Dora exit before also helping Samantha. We silently walked Dora to her door and waited for her to unlock and go inside before heading for our own house.

"What do you think Keith will say?" Samantha asked.

I knew that she was extremely excited about the prospect of having her final sexual fantasy realized, but she was trying to mitigate it as much as possible in case Dora couldn't get her husband's approval to participate.

"I think it will come down to how much Keith trusts us, and in particular, me. I've been thinking that if the roles were reversed, could I let you share Dora with Keith, and I'm pretty sure that I couldn't. Even if he never touched you, he would see you naked and witness you experiencing pleasures that only your husband should see."

Samantha went into our bedroom and began to get undressed, considering my comments the whole time. I remained dressed in case I had to return to open the front door for Dora. Samantha joined me in the living room after a few minutes, wearing a terrycloth robe.

We had just settled together on the couch when the home phone rang. I went to the kitchen counter to retrieve the cordless handset but didn't answer until I was back with Samantha.

"Hello..."

"Hi, AJ, this is Keith."

I placed the handset into speaker mode and said, "Hi, Keith. Samantha is here with me. We assume that you have spoken with Dora this evening."

"That's why I'm calling. This offer that you made my wife caught me by surprise, to say the least, so I wanted to discuss it with you before making a decision."

"That's completely understandable," I said as Samantha nodded her agreement beside me.

"Yeah, well, if the offer was just for Dora and Samantha to fool around together, I would probably be fine with it. It's the fact that you're going to be part of things that gives me pause."

I smiled at Samantha and said to Keith, "Believe me, I understand. I told Samantha that I would have the same reservation if the roles were reversed, but I also know that Samantha would never extend the offer for her and Dora to be together without me participating."

"Dora mentioned that..."

"Let me make a suggestion to you that might make things seem a little more equitable to you," I offered. "As long as Samantha agrees."

"What's that?" Keith asked, and I could see interest growing in Samantha's expression as well.

"If Dora joins me in sharing Samantha tonight, I will be able to see your wife naked, and I know that in your mind, even if I never touch Dora, that has me with skin in the game, but not you. How about if I take lots of pictures of the ladies together with my digital camera? I have some software that I would use to obscure anything recognizable, such as their faces, but then I would give the pictures to you. You would be able to see everything that I will see, just not real-time."

Samantha said, "I would be okay with Keith seeing naked pictures of me and Dora together, as long as no one else could recognize that it was me in the pictures." At this point, I think Samantha would have agreed to almost anything to see her fantasy come true tonight with Dora.

Keith was silent for a few seconds but then said, "I know that Dora desperately wants me to agree with the offer, and I guess that even without your suggestion I would give her what she wants. She deserves to feel desirable to someone and this might be the safest way for her to do that. Your suggestion to let me see pictures of Samantha and her will ease Dora's guilt more than it equalizes things in my mind, but I'll send Dora over to your place in a few minutes."

Samantha said, "We'll take good care of her, Keith."

"No," Keith said with a chuckle, "You take good care of her. She doesn't need any caring from AJ."

Samantha giggled and said, "Deal. AJ will take care of me and I'll take care of Dora. I know that this is going to make her love and respect you so much, Keith. You're doing the right thing for Dora right now. For both of you."

"I hope so."

Chapter Nine

After only a few months, Samantha and I had the ground of our lot cleared of unwanted brush and debris. That left us with approximately seventy-five trees that would need to be removed, both to make a clearing for a house to be built, but also to get rid of any that were dead or diseased.

The idea of climbing up each tree and cutting it from the top down, and then dealing with the stumps was not attractive to me. Fortunately, I found an alternative that was quicker, easier, and much less expensive.

I contacted a local dozer service and paid them by the hour to knock down the trees on my property that I had tagged for removal. When we arrived at the lot the following weekend, all the trees had been uprooted and were laying safely on the ground where Samantha and I could cut them apart with chainsaws. Another month of weekends had all the trees disassembled and the wood donated to local churches as firewood for the needy.

More out of Samantha's desire to keep her parents involved than respect for the choices that they had made with their home, we frequently sought their input on materials, recommendations on vendors for things such as our septic tank installation, and other decisions related to building our house. They were always helpful, but their enthusiasm was underwhelming, in my opinion. It took a lot more effort than it should have to coax them to our lot and discuss what we envisioned.

Samantha and I had decided to use the same homebuilder that her parents had used, but chose a much different floorplan. We picked a ranch-style that had a split bedroom design where the master was located on the opposite side of the house from the other two bedrooms. It had two bathrooms and an open concept throughout. By positioning the two-car garage so that the doors were on the side, the view from the front of the house made it look much larger than the eighteen-hundred square feet.

The weather was extremely cooperative over the next several months, resulting in the construction of our house being completed four weeks ahead of schedule. Moving from the rental house was bittersweet since Samantha and Dora would no longer be seeing each other every day as they had both become accustomed to. However, Keith had received a new assignment to Eglin Air Force Base which gave them ninety days to relocate to Florida, so Dora and Samantha knew that they would have to transition to a long-distance relationship eventually anyway.

Although Samantha and I didn't have many friends that we remained in close contact with, we had a lot of acquaintances, mostly from our jobs, who we would socialize with on occasion. In my case, none of my work acquaintances lived anywhere near us, and in Samantha's case, she had only been with her new company, Saturn Systems, a few months after leaving Lone Star Water. She had been unsuccessful in convincing the male employees that she wasn't available to them.

Without many local people that we would want to invite, Samantha thought that we should postpone any house-warming party for a few months. In checking her calendar, she realized that her parent's fortieth wedding anniversary was two months away. She started getting excited at the prospect of inviting her brother and sisters out to celebrate her parent's anniversary and combining that with a house-warming party to show everyone our new house.

I was a little apprehensive about Samantha's idea, but I encouraged her to start by making a planning list that she could share with her mom when she suggested the idea to her. I thought that if her mom saw that Samantha would carry the burden of the planning and be looking to her only for suggestions or approval of things, it would be more acceptable to her.

Samantha started by running the idea by her sisters and brother first to ensure that they would all be able to attend if I use my airline miles to book their flights. Once she had the dates that everyone would be able to commit to, Samantha then met with her parents to see if they would accept her hosting the get-together for them.

"We can't afford to feed a bunch of people," her mother complained when Samantha explained who would be coming. "And we don't have room for that many people to stay with us if we could afford it."

"I have more than enough hotel points to get rooms for everyone at the Hampton Inn over in Floresville," I offered. "They have a pool, so that will make the kids happy."

Samantha's mom considered that and said, "I would like to spend some time with Jerry. I haven't seen him since he got out of the Coast Guard. He can stay with us."

To her credit, Samantha didn't mention that her parents hadn't seen either of her sisters in a much longer time. Instead, she said. "AJ will make the travel arrangements for everyone and I'll find a restaurant where we can all celebrate your anniversary. Our treat."

Samantha's title at Saturn Systems was "Customer Advocate", but she was essentially a project manager. The manufacturers that Saturn dealt with had stringent pre-sales and pre-installation requirements for their products to ensure that any foreseeable issues were addressed in advance of the customer taking delivery of the products. It was Samantha's responsibility to coordinate with all their customers to get documented proof that things like electrical requirements, network cabling, and even ventilation were all satisfactory before the customer would receive delivery and installation of their new system.

She used these same skills from her job to put together the project timeline for planning her parent's anniversary and proudly met every milestone over the next two months. I made flight arrangements that had all of her sisters and brother arriving in Dallas, and then meeting up on the same flight into San Antonio. There was a twelve-passenger van reserved for them so that the five adults and four children could all ride together from the airport to the hotel.

Samantha had planned on us hosting everyone at our house for dinner on the Thursday that everyone arrived. Her parent's anniversary was on Friday, so she had made reservations for us all at a steak house that she knew her parents liked just inside the outer loop around San Antonio. She had left Saturday open for anyone who wanted to do some sight-seeing, and of course, everyone would be heading back to the airport Sunday morning.

Since she was the only person in her role at Saturn Systems, it was sometimes a challenge for Samantha to take time off. The week of her parent's anniversary, she had gone into work early and stayed late Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday so that she could take Thursday afternoon off. She arrived home just before two in the afternoon. I was still setting things up on the deck when she came out to kiss me.

"Hi, Sweetie. Have you checked the flights yet?" she asked.

"Yep. Their flight from Dallas landed about fifteen minutes ago. They should be in baggage claim about now. Without running into any issues with the rental van, they should be at the hotel within two hours."

"Good. I'm going to go change and then I'll come out and help you finish getting set up. Did you pick up more ice?"

"Three ten-pound bags are in the garage freezer," I assured her. "The cooler over there is already filled with ice and the drinks are getting cold as we speak."

"Thanks. We still have three hours before they're supposed to be here, so I think we're in good shape. I just need to finish getting the salads ready and start setting out things that don't require refrigeration, like the chips and stuff."

"You go change," I told her. "I have a call at three-thirty but I'll be off the clock after that and I can help you get stuff set out. Focus on the salads to begin with."

~~~

Staring out the front window, Samantha slowly lowered the cordless phone from her ear, "Still no answer. I wonder where everyone is?"

"Well, we know that they checked into the Hampton Inn more than ninety minutes ago," I said. "They knew that they were supposed to come here rather than going to your parent's house, right?"

"That's why I had you draw out directions from the hotel directly here," Samantha said, "but even if they did go there first, where are my parents? They were supposed to be here at five so that they were here before everyone else. It's almost six."

"I don't know," I admitted. "Listen, you've left messages on your parent's answering machine and with the hotel. All we can do at this point is to wait. Let's put the cold stuff back in the refrigerator, and if you want, I'll drive over to your parent's house and see if I can learn anything there."

Samantha walked past me and returned the cordless handset to its cradle and said, "I'll start putting stuff away. You go over and see if there are any cars or anything out of place at my parent's place."

I gave her a quick kiss and said, "I'll be right back. I'm sure there's an explanation for this, so just hang tight and don't worry."

Samantha's parents only had the one vehicle that they both shared, an early nineties model Chevrolet Suburban, which was sitting in its customary parking spot outside their house. Her parents had never given Samantha or me a key to their house except for when we were visiting from California, and they had always taken it back when we left. I knocked on their front and side doors each for several minutes until it became obvious that no one was home.

I was back home within ten minutes and described for Samantha what I had encountered.

"Where could they be?" she asked.

I knew it was a rhetorical question but I wished I had an answer for her.

Every fifteen minutes or so, she would dial her parent's home phone number but hang up once the answering machine picked up. Just before nine-thirty, she sighed and said, "Well, tonight is obviously a bust. Help me put stuff away and then we can call it a night."

Forty-five minutes later, Samantha was in the bathroom preparing for bed when our home phone rang. "Hello," I said when I answered on the bedside cordless phone.

"Hi, AJ, this is Claire. I had a message on our answering machine to call Samantha. I hope it's not too late for me to return her call."

"No, it's not too late. She's been anxious to hear from you. Hang on a second."

I covered the handset and walked to the bathroom. I opened the door and said, "Your mom is on the phone returning your call from earlier."

Samantha had just finished washing her face. She lowered the towel that she had been using to dry herself and reached out to take the phone from me. "Mom, where has everyone been? We expected you to be here by five o'clock."

"That was your expectation," her mother said. "Your father and I never committed to being there."

Samantha's eyes grew wide as she listened to her mom. She hesitated a few seconds before saying, "By not declining, you in fact did commit to being here, as did Donna, Ellen, and everyone else. I can't believe you were all so rude and inconsiderate to not even call to let me and AJ know that you weren't coming."

Her mother said, "Believe what you want. I don't have to explain myself to you. If I decide that I want to spend time with my children who I don't see on a regular basis instead of one who I can see anytime, then that is my choice."

I saw Samantha trying to calm herself before continuing, "Okay, Mom, it's your anniversary weekend and I want to make it special for you so let's not fight. I had hoped to also spend time with my brother and sisters tonight, but if you felt that you didn't want me to join you all, I guess that was your choice."

"You were perfectly welcome to join us."

"No, Mom, by neglecting to inform me of your decision you were clearly telling me that I wasn't welcome. It's disappointing, but as you said, it was your choice. We'll see you tomorrow at the restaurant. Good night."

The rage inside of Samantha radiated from her like heat from a fire. I took the phone from her hand and returned it to its cradle as my wife silently seethed in the doorway to the master bath. I came to stand in front of her, waiting for some sign of what she might need from me.

She moved into me and rested her cheek against my bare chest, "My whole fucking family just shit on us, and they feel perfectly comfortable doing so."

I picked her up into my arms and carried her to our bed. Laying her naked body onto the bed, I asked, "Do you know why they are acting this way?"

Samantha scooted her body up so that she could lean against the pillows on the headboard, she said, "Get in bed with me and I'll share what I suspect."

I quickly climbed into bed beside her and positioned us so that my right arm was around her and she was resting her head on my shoulder. "Tell me what you suspect," I said.

"I smell Ellen's influence all over this," she said. "This is exactly the type of petty competitive shit that she used to pull when we were growing up. Anything that she could do to win my mom over was fair game to her. It didn't matter whether it was me or Donna, Ellen was always looking for a way to outshine us with my mom. She stood no chance against Jerry, but where her sisters were concerned, she couldn't stand one of us getting any attention from my mom over her."

"Okay," I said, "I guess I could see your mom being susceptible to manipulation from one daughter over the others, but your dad is a different story..."

"Oh, I'm sure that Ellen worked on my mom in private. Once she had her convinced that the plans that I had made were just my selfish attempt to monopolize and control their anniversary, my dad would have gone along to get along."

"How do you think this bodes for the plans for dinner tomorrow?" I asked.

"I don't know," Samantha admitted. "The reservations are at a restaurant that my mom requested, so it would be hard for her to claim that it was my choice instead of hers. I guess we'll have to wait and see if they decide to change plans..."

"And whether or not they decide to inform you of any changes that they make," I said.

We dropped the subject of her family and Samantha spent the next half hour sharing what was going on at her work. She was always so excited about being appreciated for her efforts, and I was proud of all the accolades that she had received over the months that she has been with Saturn Systems. She had quickly become an indispensable commodity for them, and to their credit, they made sure that she knew that her value to the organization was recognized.

I lay awake for a few minutes after Samantha had fallen asleep, contemplating what I was going to do if her family continued to show their disrespect towards my wife. Samantha never tolerated my kids or anyone else showing me disrespect, and there was no way that I would allow it from her family without them facing the consequences.

Neither of us was surprised when we arrived at the restaurant Friday evening at six and discovered that none of her family had shown up yet. When no one had arrived by seven, we released the reservation and had a quiet dinner just for the two of us.

Samantha didn't bother calling her parent's house that evening when we got home, since they would likely still be out celebrating their anniversary with everyone in the family except us. When the home phone rang around nine-thirty, we were already in bed, with Samantha preparing to read one of her favorite erotic stories. She grabbed the phone and pressed the speaker button to answer it.

"Hello," Samantha said.

"Hi, Samantha, this is Ellen. I hope I'm not calling too late."

"Too late for what, informing me of the change of plans for tonight, because if so, you are definitely too late."

Ellen said, "Well if you had been over at Mom and Dad's this afternoon with everyone else instead of at work, you would have known about the change."

"How would I have known to be there if no one had the courtesy to call and let me know?"

We heard Ellen sigh and say, "No one has your number at work..."

"AJ does, and he was working here at the house all day. If any of you had wanted to put the effort into letting us know, it would have been easy to do so. The same with the change of plans yesterday. Do you know how much food got wasted due to your lack of consideration?"

"Typical Samantha. Everything always has to be about you, doesn't it?"

"Why are you calling, Ellen?"

"Donna and Jerry asked me to invite you to breakfast tomorrow morning. We'll be going into San Antonio with Mom and Dad to do some sightseeing after that so it will probably be the only chance for you to see everyone while we're here."

Samantha hung up the phone and turned to me, "I'm sorry, AJ, but my family is dead to me right now. Neither you nor I have done anything to deserve the way that they have all treated us this week and I won't ever subject you to their disrespect again. I'm sorry."

"Babe, I know that you have always gone above and beyond to try and maintain a relationship with each of them. None of this is on you. I supported you when you wanted to try to have them in our lives, I will support you if you want to cut them out. You're all that matters to me."

Samantha snuggled against me and said, "I just wish that there was some way that I could make them feel just a little bit of pain for treating us like they have."

"Don't worry," I told her. "They'll definitely feel it."

Samantha had turned down an invitation for us to go horseback riding at a ranch owned by one of her co-workers and her husband on Saturday, but a quick call in the morning had the invite back on the table for us. We spent an enjoyable day riding around hundreds of acres in the Texas Hill Country. We stopped for dinner at Maggiano's on the way home and thoughts of her family were essentially banished from our minds the entire day.

It was raining Sunday morning, so we spent a loving and leisurely morning in bed, eating homemade cinnamon rolls and sharing the Sunday paper. The home phone rang just before eleven. Samantha picked up the handset and handed it to me to answer.

"Hello," I said.

"Oh, AJ, I'm so glad you're home. This is Samantha's brother Jerry..."

"What do you want, Jerry?"

"We're all at the airport and are being told that our flights have been canceled. Since you made the reservations, we were hoping that you could call American Airlines and get things straightened out."

"What flights are you talking about?" I asked.

"Our return flights home. You know, the second part of the trip that you arranged for us."

"Are you telling me that you all actually were here?" I said, winking at Samantha. "I assumed that since none of you showed up at our house last Thursday that you had all decided not to come. Then when we waited for everyone at the restaurant Friday night and no one showed up, that cemented it for me. You were all no-shows. I thought that the airline should know that the seats that I had booked could be used for passengers who needed them."

I heard Jerry trying to cover the handset as he spoke to someone. The next voice I heard was new to me, "Listen, Asshole, this is Ellen, and you know damn well that we were all with our Mom and Dad this weekend because I spoke to Samantha Friday night and invited her to have breakfast with us..."

"That's the amazing things about telephone calls," I said. "The person calling could be anywhere and claim that they were right next door. You could have been speaking to Samantha from your home in Virginia and it would have sounded the same as if you were just down the street. For the three days that you all were supposed to be here, we saw no signs to indicate that you actually were. That is on you. Have a nice trip home."

I disconnected and handed the phone back to Samantha who was laughing too hard to do anything with it for several minutes.

"That should put a hitch into their get along," I said once she had calmed enough to hear me.

"Oh, they are going to be so pissed at having to buy one-way tickets home. In fact, I bet that Jerry has to call Mom and Dad to buy his ticket for him."

I grinned and said, "Paying for the tickets is only the tip of the iceberg they are facing. Trying to get on a flight out of San Antonio on a Sunday without a reservation is going to be nearly impossible. There are too many tourists and conventioneers with confirmed seats. The best that they will be able to do is to get placed onto a standby list, and even then, there will be several frequent flyers with priority in front of them. I imagine that they will be spending a night or two in a hotel near the airport or finding a way to get to Austin where they would have better luck getting on a flight."

"I love it," Samantha said. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Getting on my bad side could prove inconvenient for a person," I said. "Getting on my wife's bad side and letting me know about it could be fatal. No one messes with your happiness without facing the consequences."

"I feel the same way about your happiness," Samantha said. "Nothing other than your health and security means more to me."

"Do you know what would make me happy right now?" I asked.

Samantha snuggled her naked body against me under the covers and said, "I hope it is the same thing that would make me happy right now. Let's see..."

It was, and it made both of us very happy.

We never heard from a member of Samantha's family again. Sometime over the next year, her parents sold their house and moved away, but we had no idea where they moved to and Samantha didn't seem to care.

Chapter Ten

Having as many global contacts within the company as I did, I spotted the signs of change long before most of my coworkers got a clue. The parent company in Japan was about to go into an acquisition phase. They were planning to buy several companies that were viewed as financially weak but with sizeable customer bases to make them complementary to a new, more direct business strategy rather than the traditional manufacturer/distributor strategy that everyone in the organization was familiar with.

I discussed my concerns over these pending changes with Samantha, and after a lot more research and planning, we decided that I should resign while conditions were still favorable for me and start my own consulting business. Within six months, I was generating more than twice my previous income and had three contract consultants working with me.

The downside was that my business travel requirements increased significantly. Out of curiosity, I kept the ticket stub from every flight segment I flew in 1997 and counted them at the end of the year. Considering that every trip into or out of San Antonio would typically require a connecting flight through one of the airline hubs such as Dallas, Houston, or Chicago, I was still amazed when the total flight segments for the year was three-hundred and ninety-four.

Samantha accepted the increased travel like a champ. It helped that I was home every weekend and made as many day trips as possible, even if it meant early morning and late-night flights that allowed little sleep. I had replaced my pager with a cell phone, and while the coverage was sometimes spotty, it did allow Samantha and I to keep in contact much better than the satellite pager had. We spoke multiple times each day whether I was home or on the road.

The accolades for Samantha continued to flow at Saturn Systems. She was named employee of the month ten times, which naturally earned her employee of the year and a significant bonus. As devoted as she was to her job, she seldom worked past her normal quitting time so that she could get home to care for the dogs, or care for me if I was home as well.

Weekends were typically busy for us, but we always spent them together. Whether it was yard work, laundry, or running errands, we shared the load and enjoyed our 'us' time. It's funny how you get comfortable with your life. Everything was as it should be, and all was right with the world until it wasn't.

The first hint I had that something might be amiss was on a Sunday in September. I had flown out that morning in order to be in New York for an eight o'clock meeting on Monday morning. I had wanted to take a later flight, but everything was already booked.

I landed at LaGuardia before noon and while waiting for the rental car shuttle, called home to let Samantha know that I had arrived safely. When the answering machine picked up, I wasn't concerned because it wasn't uncommon for Samantha to be outside, either playing with the dogs or doing some yard work.

When I tried calling again a few hours later, I got the answering machine again. It wasn't like Samantha to not come back into the house at least once over that time period, and if she had, she would have noticed the flashing light on the answering machine and called me back. Maybe she had gone into town for some reason?

As it was nearing five in the afternoon at home and I still hadn't been able to reach Samantha, I called a neighbor, Frank Finley, who lived about a quarter-mile down the street. He was a homicide detective with the San Antonio police and we had become friendly since they had built their house and moved in a few months back. I asked if he could stop by my house and see if Samantha was there. I told him that she may be in the back of the lot, so he might need to honk his horn to get her attention.

He called me back ten minutes later and let me know that Samantha wasn't home and her car wasn't there. I thanked him and decided to go get some dinner while waiting for Samantha to get home and call me back. She shouldn't be out too much longer since the dogs were going to need to be fed pretty soon.

I was getting concerned as the time approached seven-thirty back home. I was preparing to call Frank again when my cell phone rang.

"Hello," I answered.

"Hi, Sweetie, it's me. Sorry that I didn't call sooner, but I fell asleep watching a movie and didn't hear your call."

"That's okay," I told her. "What else did you do today besides watch a movie? It must not have had much of a plot if it put you to sleep."

"It was one I had seen before," she said, "'The Philadelphia Story' with Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart. Other than that, I did a little ironing and just piddled around the house."

"Who was this woman and what had she done with my wife?" I thought. Samantha was telling me a blatant lie, and she had never prevaricated to my knowledge.

I wasn't going to challenge her over the phone. I would rather wait until I could look into her eyes and watch her expression. I said, "Well, hopefully, you taking a nap this afternoon won't prevent you from getting a good night's sleep."

"You know that I never sleep well when you're away, but you did a wonderful job wearing me out this morning, so that will help."

I forced a chuckle and said, "It's always my pleasure to be your sleep aid. Hey, since I'll be arriving into San Antonio around four tomorrow afternoon, would you like to meet somewhere to have dinner in town before we head home?"

"Of course. How about Red Lobster?"

"That sounds perfect. Give me a call in the morning before you head to work so I can start my day with a smile. I'll keep you posted on my schedule during the day. I love you."

"I love you too, AJ. Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams."

~~~

Additional anomalies in Samantha's behavior caused me to sit tight where confronting her lies were concerned. Where our normal dinner conversation had always included her updating me on what had happened that day at her job, Samantha began talking more about people who worked at Saturn Systems rather than what she had done herself.

I had met many of her coworkers, so I was able to put faces to the names as Samantha told me about things going on in their lives or their work. It wasn't uncommon for her to share details about her coworkers with me, but was uncommon for her to withhold what her own activities had been.

When something was needed in town on the weekend, we would usually both go together. Samantha was now begging off on these trips, claiming that she needed to do some chores around the house and it would be more productive if I went alone so that she could do what she needed to do while I was gone.

About a month after her first lie, Samantha told me that she had been invited to play Bunco with some ladies from work. She would be going into San Antonio on Saturday afternoon and probably wouldn't be back before dinner. The way that she told me indicated that she wasn't asking if I approved or not.

There had been no change in Samantha's loving care of me or her ever-present desire to please me in any way possible, but something was going on that she wasn't being honest with me about.

We made love three times on Saturday morning before Samantha got herself ready to head into San Antonio. Though physically drained from our morning activities, I prepared to get some yard work done while she was in town.

I was in the front yard, adjusting a few sprinkler heads that I had noticed weren't providing the correct coverage when Samantha's car came down the driveway. She stopped and rolled down her window so she could kiss me.

"You okay with me missing dinner?" She asked.

"I guess I will have to be," I said. "Have a good time, and drive safe."

"I will," she said. "I love you."

"I love you too."

As I watched the back of her car heading up our street, I noticed the mail carrier approaching. I walked out to the mailbox to meet him and he handed me the stack of envelopes directly rather than place them in the box. I sorted through the envelopes as I headed back into the house.

Samantha handled the paying of all our bills except for my office telephone and the credit card that I used for business and travel, so most of the envelopes could be left for her to open and review the statement inside. It wasn't obvious from the envelope if the bill from the telephone company was for our home phone or my office phone, so I opened that one.

Once I had the statement in my hands, I knew that it was for the home phone. I was somewhat surprised that the statement had so many outbound calls listed since we seldom called anyone on it. I began reviewing the numbers called and quickly discovered that there was one number dialed repeatedly. The really puzzling aspect of the number in question was that I recognized it as the same number that used to be associated with my SkyPage satellite pager.

The way the pager service worked was that a toll-free number would be dialed to access the pager system, then a unique number would be entered to send a page to the specific pager device. Someone had dialed the pager system from our home phone on multiple occasions.

I checked the times and dates of a few of these calls and easily determined that they had all been made on a Saturday or Sunday, and if I wasn't mistaken, all had been made when I had been on a run into town for one reason or another. Whenever I left the house during the weekends, Samantha was immediately paging someone.

I set the statement on my desk and went to the filing cabinet where Samantha kept past statements. Checking prior months, I found that the same pager system number had appeared last month, but not before that.

Without the unique number associated with the pager in question, there was no way that I could identify who it belonged to. I checked the time and saw that I had at least five hours to prepare for the confrontation with Samantha that was long overdue. The preparations included packing a bag. I didn't know if I would be sleeping at home that night.

I was sitting on the couch in the living room when Samantha returned home a little after eight in the evening. This was not a common location for me to sit alone, so it took her a few minutes of searching the house to find me.

"How was Bunco?" I asked. "Did you spend any time at the Head Table?"

"It was fun," Samantha said cautiously. "What are you doing in here?"

I didn't answer her, but simply patted the couch beside me and said, "Have a seat. We need to talk."

She set her purse on the kitchen counter before coming over and sitting on the couch. She pulled her legs under her and turned so that she was facing me. "What's up, AJ?"

"Let's start with something that has been bothering me for a few weeks now," I said. "Do you remember last month when I flew to New York on a Sunday?"

"Yes, I remember," she said. "What about it?"

"Please tell me where you went that day because you weren't here as you claimed. When I hadn't heard from you, I asked Frank Finley to check on you. He came over and saw that you and your car were not here. So, where were you?"

She was no longer looking directly at me when she said, "He must have come by when I went to Walmart to get some more spray starch. I told you that I was ironing that day if I remember right."

"Right," I said. "That was probably it. Was that before or after you started watching 'The Philadelphia Story'?"

"Before. Why all these questions?"

I shrugged and said, "I'm just waiting to see when the lying stops. I think it started that day, but I guarantee you that it will stop tonight."

Samantha visibly flinched and asked, "Why do you think I have lied to you?"

"I don't think it," I said, "I know it. You were gone for hours that Sunday which you lied about, 'The Philadelphia Story' didn't air on any station on that Sunday so that was another lie, and when I came home on Monday, none of the ironing had been done. That's three lies covering just one day."

Samantha just sat there, staring blankly across the room.

"Okay," I said. "If you're not going to tell me the truth about that Sunday, please tell me why every time that I leave the house on a Saturday or Sunday, you immediately page someone."

"I don't understand..." Samantha began.

"The phone bill came today," I informed her. "I didn't know if it was for the home or office phone so I opened it. Please explain the outbound calls to a pager system that coincide with the times that I am away from the house during the weekends. Who are you paging?"

Tears were running down Samantha's cheeks. I rose and went into my office to get her a box of tissue before resuming my place on the couch. Her tears broke my heart, but not my resolve.

"Do you love him?" I asked. I no longer had any doubt about one aspect of the mystery.

Samantha began sobbing at my question, but managed to shake her head 'no'.

"Is he who you were with today?"

She nodded but didn't say anything.

"Is he who you were with on that Sunday last month?"

She nodded again but remained silent. I rose and went into my office where my packed bag and briefcase awaited me. I carried them out with me and headed for the mudroom door leading to the garage. Samantha couldn't see me from her position on the couch, but she was able to hear the garage door when I pressed the button on the wall to open it.

"AJ, WAIT!" she screamed while rushing to catch me.

I turned in the garage to face her. She was standing in the doorway to the mudroom looking panicked.

"Please come back and let me explain," she pleaded. "It's not what you think."

"Complete honesty?" I asked.

"I promise," she said. "As long as you promise to listen to it all."

I left my briefcase and bag in the mudroom and then followed Samantha back into the living room. She turned to me and asked, "Can we do this in bed? You holding me will make things a lot easier."

I shook my head and said, "Not until you tell me who he is and what he means to you."

Samantha said, "That's fair. His name is Kurt Halstrom and he is a customer contact. You asked me if I love him, and the truth is that I despise everything about him."

I could sense her rage building, so I said, "Let's go to bed."

Samantha didn't bother to wash her face and neither of us brushed our teeth before undressing and crawling into bed. I assumed my position leaning against the headboard and she leaned against me, pulling my arm around her as she settled.

Samantha sighed and said, "Kurt is an IT Director with the Texas Department of Transportation. I have been dealing with him for about fifteen months as we have been installing systems in their regional facilities and he has been my contact with each location. Everything was fine and kept professional until we came to their location in San Antonio. That is when Kurt came to town to oversee the project just as he had done in Lubbock and Wichita Falls. Tim Jeffers, our sales rep for the Department of Transportation invited Kurt to tour our offices a couple of months ago, and that's when he met me for the first time."

"I take it that he liked what he saw?" I asked.

Samantha nodded and said, "Apparently. After that, when I would contact him for an update on one certification or another, he would only want to discuss things over lunch. At first, I was able to keep him from wandering into personal things by getting Tim or one of the other sales reps to join me when meeting Kurt for lunch. He then tried getting me to meet him for drinks after work but I told him that I had to get home to care for the dogs."

"For several weeks, he wasn't available for me to follow up with him at all during the week, but he told me to page him on the weekend and leave my home phone number so we could talk then. I knew what he wanted, and he knew that I knew. He wants to spend private time with me, and I've had to string him along a few times to get what I need from him. He's reluctantly provided the required certifications, but he always waits until just before the particular milestone is due."

"That Sunday when you went to New York, I paged him to find out when he would provide the electrical certification documents for the San Antonio install. They were due on Monday and if I didn't have them, I would miss the project deadline and put any bonus due to me at risk. I wasn't as concerned about the money as I was about keeping my perfect project schedule score intact. He told me that if I came by his hotel on that Sunday, he would hand me the electrical certification personally."

"And you went..." I said.

"Yes. When I got to the Residents Inn by the airport, he wanted me to come up to his room, but I insisted that he meet me in the lobby. He didn't bring anything down with him, stating that he wanted to have lunch before we discussed business. I wanted something quick and suggested the Arby's across the street, but Kurt insisted on eating someplace along the Riverwalk. I drove since I was more familiar with the route, but that left his hands free to start getting a little 'touchy-feely' along the way. At one point, I pulled along the shoulder of the Two-Eighty-One and told him to either keep his hands to himself or to get out."

"Why didn't you just report this guy for harassment?" I asked.

"Believe me, I wanted to, but I had no proof. There were no incriminating e-mails or anything that I could point to and his subtle hints and suggestions were never made when anyone else was around to hear them. It would have been my word against his until I could get something on him."

"When we parked downtown, he told me that he expected me to be a little friendlier towards him or I would never receive another certification on time. That would result in Saturn Systems missing contract deadlines and incurring significant penalties. I didn't agree to his request, but when I finished locking my car, he took my hand and I let him hold it while we walked along the Riverwalk and then later when he wanted to walk through the Japanese Garden at Hildebrandt Park."

"When we returned to his hotel, he wanted me to stay and have dinner and drinks with him, but I told him that you were out of town and I needed to get home to care for our dogs. I waited in the lobby as he grudgingly went to his room and brought back the electrical certification that he had promised. I let him give me a peck on the lips, and then I hurried home to call you back because I knew that you must have called while I was out."

"So, you've held hands with this guy and let him kiss you," I said. "Is that all?"

"I wish it was," Samantha sadly said. "I did something much worse. I had him here for dinner once during the week while you were out of town."

"Don't tell me that you were his dessert," I said.

Samantha threw her arms around me and sobbed, "Oh, no, AJ. I would never let that happen. I would quit my job before I would ever betray your love."

"You don't think that not trusting me and lying to me isn't a betrayal?" I asked.

"I was trying to protect you," Samantha pleaded. "I knew that if I told you what Kurt was doing that you would do what you always do. You would come to my rescue. I couldn't risk you getting yourself in trouble trying to protect me when I thought that I could handle things on my own."

"So, how was having him here for dinner worse than the physical intimacies that you shared with him?" I asked.

"Because, when I was cooking dinner, Kurt excused himself to use the bathroom. When he hadn't returned after several minutes, I went looking for him and found him in your office. I went ballistic on him and told him to leave our house immediately. He did as requested, but not before sneaking something out with him."

"What did he take?"

"He has one of your boudoir pictures of me. He must have been rummaging through your desk before I caught him and I didn't know that he had it. He says that he won't give it back until he sees me in his hotel room wearing only the lingerie that I wore when the picture was taken. I've been stringing him along, but he's holding the final software certification required for the install hostage until I give in to his demands. I spent today trying to reason with him, explaining that even when the San Antonio install is complete, there are six others that we will be working on together. Unfortunately, he moves to each install site when they are scheduled so he sees the install here as his only chance to get me to his hotel room. I have until next Friday to get the last certification from him or the contract deadline will be missed and he knows it."

"What are your options?" I asked.

"I was thinking about that on the way home today. At this point, I am going to start going back through all of my e-mails and communications with him to create a documented trail of my requests for each certification on every install we have done for the Department of Transportation, along with the responses. I should be able to prove that until the San Antonio project, my requests were always met with timely responses. It would be hard for Kurt to argue that there were any mitigating circumstances here that caused his delayed responses, and hopefully, our legal department will be able to use that in defense of Saturn meeting the contract terms."

"I'm canceling my trip to Houston next week," I told her. "I will be here every day to support you in any way you need, but I don't want you to see this guy again. Can you do that?"

"As long as he doesn't come to our offices, I can avoid seeing him. I'm sure that he will insist on having lunch with me every day, but I've gotten pretty good at blowing him off."

Samantha giggled and said, "Maybe my husband will take me to lunch each day instead? That would really take the wind out of Kurt's sails if I told him that I couldn't meet him for lunch because I was having it with my husband."

"We could do that," I said. I disentangled my arm from around Samantha and started to get out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to get my bags and unpack, but first I need to send a couple of e-mails and leave a few voicemail messages about my plan changes for next week. You relax and I'll be back in less than a half-hour."

Samantha pulled me down for a passionate kiss and said, "I'm sorry for lying and making you think that I didn't trust you. I really was just trying to handle things myself without risking you getting involved."

"We'll get past this," I said. "I'll be back shortly."

"AJ?" Samantha said.

I turned and she continued, "Would you mind if I read a story until you come back?"

I smiled and said, "I wouldn't mind at all."

~~~

"We need to come to a decision about Houdini," I told Samantha as we finished our lunch. It was Wednesday, and this was the third time this week that I had driven into San Antonio to be her lunch date and keep Kurt Halstrom away from her.

"I know," Samantha said. "He's not eating and has no energy to move. It's so sad to see him lying in his own urine because he doesn't have the strength to stand."

Houdini had been diagnosed with congestive heart failure a few months back, but it had progressed much faster than we had been told to expect.

"His quality of life is nil right now and not likely to get better," I said. "I think that I should take him to Dr. Hill this afternoon and have him put down. What do you think?"

"Can you find out how late Dr. Hill would be able to see us? I would really want to be there with Houdini when he passes. It will kill me to watch him die, but I owe him that much. He's been such a wonderful dog for us."

"I'll check on the way home and let you know. My other concern is how Snapper is going to react. Her and Houdini are inseparable."

Samantha nodded and said, "We'll need to find another dog as soon as possible to keep Snapper company. Maybe we can go looking this weekend?"

I took Samantha's hand and helped her rise from her chair. As we walked out to our cars I said, "I think that is workable. How is your documenting of communications between you and that Kurt guy going?"

"It's actually going pretty well. I was able to retrieve all the e-mails, even those that had been archived by the system. Now I'm just compiling them all into a report that will detail request dates and corresponding response dates. I'll then be able to create graphs that show a trend for the San Antonio project that clearly depicts the consistent delays on Kurt's part."

"Have you heard anything from him?" I asked as I opened Samantha's door for her.

Samantha kissed me before getting into her car. She then said, "Not since he called yesterday to ask me to have lunch with him. He didn't call today, so maybe he has finally taken the hint that I don't want to see him."

"I hope so," I said. "I'll call your office once I know how late we can get in to see Dr. Hill."

"Thanks for lunch, Sweetie. Dinner will be my treat."

I smiled and said, "And dessert will be my treat. I love you. Drive safe."

Samantha smiled and started her car. I walked to my truck and got the air conditioner running before making my first call. Samantha had stated that Kurt Halstrom hadn't called her today. I was curious about the reason why.

~~~

I had just finished digging the hole that would become Houdini's grave when I heard the home phone ring. I listened to see if Samantha had calmed down enough after watching Houdini go to sleep for the last time to answer it or if I would need to go in and do it. The rings stopped after three, so I assumed that Samantha had answered.

I picked up the towel-wrapped body of our dear old dog and laid it in the bottom of the hole. I could hear Snapper scratching at the back door wanting to come out to be with me and her companion. I'm not sure if dogs understand death, but I knew that Snapper understood that the Houdini she loved was no more.

Hearing the back door open, I looked over to see Samantha leading Snapper out of the house. She was not crying at the moment, but I knew that as soon as she saw Houdini at the bottom of the hole, the tears would begin again.

"Who was on the phone?" I asked.

"It was Tim Jeffers," Samantha said. "You're never going to believe what happened."

"What?"

"Kurt Halstrom died sometime last night."

"Died?" I asked in surprise. "How did he die?"

"He fell six stories from his hotel room balcony to the parking lot of the Residence Inn. The police are investigating to determine if it was accidental, suicide, or something else."

"What does that do to your project?" I asked.

"That's why Tim was calling me," she said, "We'll get an automatic thirty-day extension to the deadline while the Department of Transportation appoints someone to replace Kurt."

"That's got to be a relief for you," I said. "Let's get this over with here. I want to call Frank Finley and see what he knows about what happened with this Kurt guy."

Samantha came down off the deck to stand beside me. As predicted, the tears began falling as soon as she saw Houdini's body at the bottom of the three-foot deep hole. I handed her the shovel so that she could place the first scoop of dirt, then took it from her to finish the job. Once all the dirt was in place, I moved a large rock over the spot.

"We'll get him a formal stone marker ordered this weekend," I told her. "Are you going to be okay?"

Samantha nodded and said, "I will be in time. I think we should allow Snapper to sleep in our room tonight if she wants to."

"I don't have any problem with that. Let me put the shovel away and I'll meet you in the house. How long until dinner is ready?"

"I'm making pork fried rice, so it should only take about fifteen minutes once I start on it. I'm going to feed Snapper first, so you just need to tell me when you're ready for me to start on ours."

"Okay," I said. "I'll keep the call with Frank as short as possible."

Frank Finley wasn't working the Kurt Halstrom case, but he was aware of it. He was initially reluctant to share any of the details with me, but when I explained Samantha's working relationship, omitting the part about Halstrom pressuring her for personal favors, he shared what he knew.

Some time between Tuesday evening around ten and Wednesday morning at six, Halstrom had fallen or been thrown over the balcony of his sixth-floor room. The reason that they were not able to lock a more specific time down was the fact that Halstrom's body had landed between two vehicles parked on the side of the hotel where no one noticed it until the light of dawn provided enough visibility for another guest to see it from their own room. The police knew that it hadn't happened before ten on Tuesday evening because Halstrom had been in the hotel bar up to that time.

According to Frank, no suicide note was found and the railing of the balcony showed no damage or defects to indicate that someone leaning against it might have fallen accidentally. They knew of no motives, but foul play was suspected. The only lead that they had was a grainy video from one of the hotel stairways that showed three large African-American males exiting the hotel through a side door around midnight. Hooded sweatshirts and dark sunglasses worn by all three had obscured most of their facial features, so identifying them would be a challenge. The police were able to determine that they were not registered guests at the hotel, but not much else.

I joined Samantha in the kitchen and took a seat at the counter. While she prepared our dinner, I filled her in on what I had learned from Frank.

"Do they know if anything was missing from Kurt's room?" Samantha asked. "I mean, could it have been a robbery gone bad or something like that?"

I knew that her real concern was whether the police might have found the boudoir picture of her that Kurt had taken from my office, and how she would be able to explain him having it.

"I'm sure that they are considering that," I said, "but Frank never mentioned it. You need to consider what you will tell the police if they ever get around to questioning you."

"Why would the police want to speak with me?"

"Seriously?" I asked in amazement. "You think that your relationship with the guy won't come up at some point? Hell, he had a near-naked photo of you and you spent hours with him last Saturday. You don't think that someone who saw you two together won't mention that to the police? I guarantee that if the police learn of the pressure that he was putting on you, they will immediately place you on a 'person of interest' list, and I'll probably wind up there right below your name."

Samantha turned from the stove to face me. I could tell that she was contemplating what I had just told her. She finally asked, "Do you think that we should speak with a lawyer?"

I said, "Let's give it a day or two and see what happens. Just be prepared to tell the truth if and when the police want to talk to you."

~~~

"Janson Consulting, Allen Janson speaking," I said, answering my office phone.

"Hi, Sweetie. I just wanted to let you know that a couple of San Antonio detectives just left my office."

"How did it go?" I asked.

"They started out rather brusque but became much nicer and more professional when I mentioned to them that Frank Finley was our neighbor. I simply answered their questions and didn't offer anything further. They knew that I had visited him at his hotel, but seemed to accept my explanation that we met so that he could give me the certifications. Apparently, they have video from the hotel lobby that shows Kurt and I meeting there, him handing me some papers, and me never going to his room, so they accept that there was nothing personal going on between us. I don't think that they found the picture of me, but I can't imagine Kurt not having it in his hotel room. He bragged about looking at it all the time while fantasizing about being with me."

"Did you get a sense for which direction their investigation is going? I mean, did their questions lead you to think that they were investigating it as murder versus an accident..."

Samantha was silent for a moment before saying, "Not really. The questions that they asked me were pretty general and not like 'Do I know anyone who might want to harm him', or 'Did he seem depressed' type questions."

"Okay," I said. "I was just curious. Did they say anything about wanting to talk to me?"

"No, and I can't imagine from their questions what would make them even consider talking to you. They seem satisfied that Kurt and I were only working together and nothing more was going on between us. Why would they even think that you knew who Kurt was?"

"I don't suppose they would unless Frank mentioned something to them about my interest, but he probably assumes that it was your interest I was calling about rather than mine."

"That makes sense. Anyway, I'm going to be leaving here in fifteen minutes so I'll see you in about an hour. Will you be able to come out of your office and play with me for a while?"

"I'll be counting the minutes," I said. "Drive safe."

~~~

"Who do you know in Compton?" Samantha asked as she laid the plain manilla envelope on my desk. She always stopped and collected the mail from the box along the street when she came home from work.

I picked up the envelope and examined it. My name and address were handwritten in blue ink, but there was no return address provided.

"How do you know it's from someone in Compton?" I asked. "There's no return address."

Samantha point at the postmark and said, "It's postmarked as being mailed from Compton. Who would go to Compton to mail something unless they lived there? I know that I wouldn't."

"Good point," I said. "Let's see what it is."

I used a letter opener and then looked inside the envelope. There were two pieces of thin cardboard with a picture sandwiched between them. I separated the pieces of cardboard and pulled out the picture. Looking at it, I smiled and said, "Ah, my collection is once again complete."

Samantha gasped when she saw the picture, "That's the picture that Kurt stole from your desk. How did someone in Compton get it, and how did they know to send it to you?"

When I didn't answer, she picked up the envelope and studied it. Her eyes were wider than I had ever seen them when she said, "It's postmarked last Wednesday. Can you explain that?"

I shook my head and said, "No, I can't. The postal service delivering a piece of first-class mail in only two days defies explanation."

"Very funny," Samantha said. "You know what I'm asking, AJ. What did you do, or what did you have somebody else do?"

I scooted my chair back from the desk and pulled Samantha onto my lap. "Don't let your imagination run wild," I told her. "Someone who had been tormenting you met a justifiable fate and I got my picture back. Drop it."

Samantha buried her face against my neck and said, "He didn't deserve to die."

"Change roles," I said. "If some woman was tormenting me similar to how Halstrom was tormenting you and you had the means to make her stop..."

Surprisingly fast, Samantha replied with a simple, "Okay."

She then brought her lips to mine and kissed me with a sense of desperation. Her passion and love for me, for us, fueled her actions as she tried to undress both of us while I was carrying her to our bedroom.

Chapter Eleven

It's probably hard for some to imagine, but after only a few years in our house on three acres, we started feeling crowded by our neighbors.

It happened gradually as more people started building on their lots, but the biggest challenge came when the young couple who owned the lot to the left of ours started staking out the location for where they were planning to build their house.

One of the first things that I had done after our house was built was to construct a huge deck along the back. It stretched from one side of our house to the other and went out into the backyard more than forty feet on multiple levels. The clearance under the deck closer to the house provided an ideal place for the dogs to find shelter from the elements if they chose to stay outside rather than come into the garage or the house.

Since we had moved in, Samantha had used the deck whenever the weather was agreeable to lie out and sunbathe in her bikini. When she realized that the neighbors were staking out the location for their house so that their front yard would extend well into where our backyard was, she felt that the privacy she had enjoyed would soon disappear.

We had quite a bit of equity in the house, due to a general increase in home prices in the area, the numerous improvements that we had made in our house since moving in, and us having doubled-down on most of our mortgage payments. Samantha thought that we should try to find a larger lot in the area and build another house there. After all, being close to her parents was no longer a consideration for us.

We had seen signs advertising a new development about ten miles away, so we decided to check out what they had available. Surprisingly, lots there were selling for the same five-thousand dollars an acre as our first lot. Unlike our first lot, these were all derived from a former cattle ranch so the land was covered with coastal alfalfa with very few trees.

There were two adjoining five-acre lots at the top of a rise, providing a breathtaking view of the northern horizon, including the skyline of San Antonio in the distance. Samantha and I walked around both lots for several hours checking out the view and falling in love with the location. We decided to buy both of the lots, fence them in as one property, but we would keep them deeded as separate parcels.

There would be very little work required to get the lots ready to build on, so we returned to our previous builder and selected a much larger floorplan. At almost thirty-three hundred square feet, the house would be larger than we needed, but we felt that anything smaller would look minuscule on the land.

As we suspected it would, our current house sold almost immediately for more than we were asking. The buyers needed to move in as soon as the transaction was complete, so I talked to a retired neighbor couple and convinced them to let us rent their fifth-wheel trailer to be parked on our new property until the house was built. At what we were offering to pay them, they readily agreed.

The utilities were already run to the property along the street, so I had temporary meters installed. When the septic system was installed, I had a dump pipe run to the driveway so that we could connect the trailer to it. Within a week, we had water, electricity, and telephone service to the trailer, and we were ready to move in. All of our furniture went into storage, along with most of our clothes, but I made certain that Samantha could get to anything of hers that she might want easily enough.

The weekend after Houdini had been put to sleep, Samantha and I had gone to several pet stores looking for another companion for Snapper. Samantha wanted to try and find another Sheltie, but we weren't having much luck. Our final stop was at a small, family-owned pet store in Alamo Heights.

While Samantha was watching a couple playing with a puppy on the floor, I spotted what I thought was the largest Sheltie puppy I had ever seen. Samantha overheard me ask one of the store employees why the Sheltie puppy was so large and came over just as it was explained to me that the reason that Sheltie puppy was so large was that it wasn't a Sheltie. It was a Collie puppy.

Samantha squealed with excitement and asked to see it. The little girl did look like a bigger version of Snapper when she was a puppy, and she immediately stole Samantha's heart. Troop, as she was named, had been part of our family ever since.

Our lots backed up to a working cattle ranch, and there was field fencing between it and us that the dogs could not get through. However, the rest of the property only had ranch fencing around it, which consisted of white wooden posts with three horizontal wood rails between them. The lowest rail was about fifteen inches off the ground, more than enough space for Snapper and Troop to get under.

I knew that at some point I would need to run field fencing around the inside of all the ranch fence so that the dogs couldn't get out, but in the meantime, I just used the back fence as one side of the huge pen that I threw up to keep the dogs secure, yet away from where any actual construction would be taking place.

We lived in the trailer for a little over four months as the house was built. Samantha and I used our weekends to dig more holes and set posts to realign the ranch fencing and put in gates so that the back of our lot and all of the adjoining five acres would be available for the dogs, but the yard in front of the house would be open.

The only significant inconveniences for us during our time in the trailer were having to go to a laundromat to wash clothes, the bed wasn't as comfortable as ours, and Samantha's biggest gripe, the shower wasn't large enough for her and me to shower together.

With the house projected to be complete before Thanksgiving, Samantha invited Marlene and Steve to drive down and spend the holiday with us. Unfortunately, Marlene was managing a grocery store and she couldn't get anything other than Thanksgiving Day off. Fortunately, Dora and Keith decided to celebrate the holiday at their house in Florida rather than go to her parent's house in New York, so they insisted that Samantha and I join them.

Samantha's only stipulation to us spending Thanksgiving with Dora and Keith was that she and I would be staying in a nearby hotel. Dora laughed, fully aware of why Samantha would want us to have our privacy while visiting. I don't know if the guests in rooms near ours thought that it was as funny as Dora did.

~~~

Saturn Systems always used their company Christmas party for the presentation of yearly awards and bonuses. Samantha was expected to win 'Employee of the Year' for the third year in a row, so naturally, I was proud to once again accompany her to the event.

Through her intrinsic beauty and grace, Samantha was frequently perceived as being coquettish, but she didn't have a flirtatious cell in her body for anyone but me. At non-work social gatherings, Samantha was constantly by my side, on my lap, or finding some other way to physically demonstrate to everyone that she and I were an inseparable couple.

At work-related gatherings, such as her company's Christmas party, where she felt an obligation to mingle and associate with coworkers, her devotion to me was not demonstrated through blatant physical acts, but rather through more abstract means, such as refusing to dance with anyone but me or quickly introducing me to anyone who I hadn't met before.

As proud as I was of my wife for her accomplishments at work, and everything else about her, I knew that she was equally proud of me. She understood that she could leave me to my own devices at her company's events and that I would mingle and converse with people who I had known there for years. I would see her smile and point in my direction when someone she was speaking with asked her where her husband was. If the people didn't know of me, or knew little about me, they would frequently be surprised to see me associating happily with the leadership team at Saturn Systems; people that I had been consulting for free of charge over the entire time of Samantha's employment there. Samantha took great pride in her coworkers recognizing the deference and respect that their leaders demonstrated towards her husband.

As dinner was preparing to be served, Samantha broke away from her coworkers and came over to retrieve me so that we could find our assigned table. Each table sat four people, and I could see that Samantha was leading us to a table that already had another couple sitting at it. As I held her chair for her, Samantha introduced everyone.

"AJ, I think you probably remember Scott Palmer."

I shook the hand of the handsome early thirty-something account representative that I had met previously and said, "Of course. It's good to see you again, Scott."

"Good to see you again, Mr. Barrett."

I ignored the obvious dig, but Samantha didn't.

"Do we have to find another table, Scott?" she asked with barely controlled disdain in her tone.

Scott blanched at Samantha's rebuff, and said, "No, no, I'm sorry. It's just uncommon for husbands and wives to have different last names and your's is the one I am most familiar with."

"And this is his wife, Monica," added Samantha politely. "Monica, this is my husband, Allen Janson."

Monica was a slender, willowy vision, with a killer smile beneath her deep brown eyes. She reminded me of a high-fashion runway model. She exuded an effervescence that was enchanting. I shook her hand and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

After we were all seated, Samantha went on to explain, "I don't know if you remember, AJ, but Scott works with our financial market group out of New York. He's up for an award tonight, so we're glad that Monica was able to fly in and join us to celebrate Scott's achievement."

Monica laughed and said, "It's me who is celebrating. This is the first night out that Scott and I have had alone since our youngest was born three and a half years ago. I couldn't talk my neighbors into watching all our kids overnight until they were all out of diapers. Anyway, it's great to finally meet you, Samantha. Scott raves about all that you do to help him with his accounts and credits you with his success. Thanks for everything you have done for him, and for us."

Over dinner, Scott Palmer and I said quietly as our two wives shared stories about how each of us had met and gotten together. Monica and Scott had been high school sweethearts on Long Island, toughed out lengthy separations as they both went to different colleges, yet remained committed to each other. Scott had started working for Saturn Systems shortly after graduating. He and Monica had married shortly after that and didn't hesitate to start on their family. I guess that they were both slightly older than they looked, since they now had an eleven-year-old daughter and two sons, eight and three and a half.

Even before Scott Palmer began trying to impress us with his high school and college athletic accomplishments, I had determined that he strove to be the Alpha Male in any social situation. He focused his attention solely on the two wives as he spoke, and smirked at me every time either wife expressed even the slightest hint of being impressed by his tales. To me, Alpha Males were like pesky house flies. You had to be careful when you swatted them to ensure that they didn't fall into your drink or onto your plate.

During the awards portion, several promotions were announced, including Scott Palmer being named to one of several new Region Account Manager positions that had been created. He had just returned to our table to be congratulated by Monica when Samantha was announced as the Employee of the Year and rose to go accept her award. Scott made a move to give a congratulatory hug to my wife, but she side-stepped his approach and moved into my arms.

"Congratulations, Babe," I whispered in her ear.

She gave me a quick kiss and headed to the podium. Scott and I watched her walk away and he said, "No one deserves it more than her."

"No need to tell me," I said. "No one knows how passionate Samantha is about her role at Saturn Systems than me."

A smirk returned to Scott's face as he said, "I'm just glad that I earn enough so that Monica doesn't have to work. What is it they say, 'Them who can do; them who can't consult'?"

"Gee," I said. "I've never heard that before."

I ignored him as Samantha returned to our table with a plaque and the envelope containing her award bonus. We kissed quickly before I held her chair to allow her to resume her seat. Since her award was the last, the leadership team for Saturn Systems began touring the room, stopping at various tables to congratulate the award winners further.

When Bruce Winters, Vice President of Sales approached our table, Scott began 'fluffing his feathers' in anticipation. Bruce would be Scott's immediate boss in his new role, so he assumed that he was going to be the focus of Bruce's attention once he reached our table, and stood to meet him.

Bruce patted Scott on the shoulder as he stepped past him to address my wife. "What is this now Samantha, three years in a row?"

Samantha blushed and simply nodded.

Bruce turned to me and said, "The leadership team was discussing over dinner which of Samantha's contributions are more valuable to us, her role with the company or her husband. I'm sorry, AJ, but you came in a close second."

Samantha was beaming, but Bruce saw the puzzled expression on Scott and Monica's faces, so he explained. "You probably didn't know that our Samantha here is married to one of the most sought after high-technology consultants in the world. Saturn Systems has had AJ's ear since Samantha started here, and we owe a great deal of the organization's success and growth to the advice he has provided to us, all pro-bono I might add."

Bruce put his hand on Scott's shoulder and said, "In fact, Scott, you should thank AJ for your promotion. It was his advice that convinced us to create the position that you were just promoted into. I'm sure that you'll make us all proud. Anyway, congratulations again to both of you. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Scott had a sour expression on his face as he took his seat, but it faded as more of the upper management team came around to offer their congratulations. After the rounds had been completed, dance music began to play and people began moving out onto the floor. I took Samantha's hand and escorted her onto the floor.

While we moved around to the music, I noticed that Scott and Monica had decided to also dance. Usually, when we danced, Samantha would simply melt into me, fusing her body so tightly against mine that our dancing couldn't be much more than two people slightly swaying to the rhythm of the music. It's not that we couldn't dance normally, it was just one of Samantha's ways of showing the world that she and I belonged to each other.

After two songs, the next one had a beat that wasn't conducive to our style, so Samantha and I returned to the table to take a break. Scott and Monica were already there, abiding in their refreshed drinks.

While I held her chair out for Samantha, Scott stood and asked, "Samantha, could I have the pleasure of this next dance?"

Samantha gasped and looked between me and Monica as she planted herself in her seat. Scott looked confused, so Monica said, "Scott, that was rude. How would you like it if some guy just came up and asked me to dance without asking your permission first?"

Scott blanched slightly, but he was not to be deterred. He asked, "Allen, would you mind if I asked Samantha for a dance?"

Not that I needed it, but I could tell by the squeeze of my hand under the table what Samantha's opinion of Scott's request was. I said, "If you danced with Samantha, I would feel duty-bound to ask Monica to dance. While Samantha has had years of experience dodging my two left feet on the dance floor, your poor wife would likely curse you for days if you were to subject her to dancing with me. I think it best for all if husbands danced exclusively with their own wife tonight."

Samantha leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I think our next few dances should be at home in our bed. I'm ready to leave."

So that's exactly what we did.

~~~

I took my pledge of responsibility for Samantha's health and happiness as seriously as she took hers for me. I paid attention to her expressions, her moods, her behavior, and her reactions to life around her in order to remain aware of her feelings. I knew when she had a headache, when she was uncomfortable, and when she was tired. I knew her moods; learning when to be sympathetic and when to be supportive. I kept track of her dental or doctor appointments and always tried to have my schedule clear in case she wanted me to accompany her.

However, I usually didn't pay too much attention to Samantha's menstrual cycle. I mean, I knew that she had one every month and did what I could to make her as comfortable as possible if I was home while she was having cramps, but they had never been something that I focus on to any great extent. That changed on a Sunday afternoon in February when Samantha asked me to run to the store to buy her more tampons.

I was not squeamish about purchasing feminine hygiene products, but it seemed like I was being asked to buy them much more frequently of late. I reminded Samantha that I had picked up a box of tampons for her the previous Friday, and that she typically used less than a box of twelve per menstrual cycle.

"AJ, please just go get them for me," Samantha pleaded. "I don't know why my flow is suddenly so heavy, but it is."

"I'm going now, but if you're using more than a dozen tampons within a couple of days, you need to get checked out. We'll discuss it when I get home."

And discuss it we did. Samantha admitted that her flow had been getting heavier for the past few months and the excessive bleeding was wearing on her physically. I wanted her to make an appointment with her gynecologist for the coming week, but she insisted that her projects at work were too critical for her right then to take any time until the following week at the earliest.

I accepted the reality that once her current menstrual cycle was over, there was no urgency as long as she got in to see the doctor before her next period. She promised me that she would make an appointment on Monday and let me know when it was so that I could arrange my travel schedule to allow me to accompany her.

I sat at my desk in my home office on Monday morning, considering how Samantha felt that her workload was more important than her health. Saturn System had grown from a regional value-added reseller of mid-range systems, primarily IBM RISC 6000 and AS-400 systems, to hold a national presence. Much of that growth was due to them following my suggestion that they focus their efforts on specific market segments rather than trying to sell to every type of business within a geographic area.

Saturn was now focused on retail, financial and local and state government accounts only, but they had opened sales offices in New York, Atlanta, Chicago, and San Francisco to service their dedicated markets in all areas of the country. Business for them was increasing every day, but regardless of how many more systems they sold, they still had only one Customer Advocate to coordinate the installation requirements, and that person was my wife.

It was time for me to change that. I knew that Samantha would blow a gasket if she suspected that I was insinuating myself into her career, but I was willing to take the chance if it meant protecting her health and happiness. I left a voicemail for Bruce Winters requesting a callback. It came fifteen minutes later.

"Thanks for returning my call, Bruce," I said after exchanging the typical pleasantries. "I want to ask that you don't mention our conversation to Samantha."

"Not a problem," Bruce said. "What can I do for you?"

I explained my growing concern over Samantha's workload and reminded Bruce of a previous conversation where I had made several recommendations for organizational changes at Saturn Systems that would be required for them to sustain their sales growth. Appointing Region Account Managers to support the individual account managers locally rather than relying on all their support to come from headquarters in San Antonio was one example. Increasing the number of Customer Advocates was another.

In the last year and a half, Samantha had gone from supporting an average of fifteen customer installation projects per month to more than seventy-five. Her reliance on the account managers to assist her with their install projects was impacting their ability to develop new customer accounts. Bruce and the other leaders at Saturn Systems had to see this.

"We understand, AJ," Bruce said. "Our biggest obstacle to getting Samantha some help has been Samantha herself. She rightfully claims that she is too busy with customer projects to train someone else to do the job. We've discussed this before; Samantha has essentially developed her role within the organization on her own. It looks nothing like it did when she was hired. No one else knows all the intricacies involved, so without her being able to do a knowledge-dump or mind-meld with somebody new, they would be lost."

"Okay," I said. "I will describe for you how to get past this obstacle that is my wife. I will put you in contact with a training organization that I have worked with in the past. They will be able to have one of their curriculum development specialists spend time with Samantha, gaining an understanding of, and then documenting everything that she does. They will create a training program from that curriculum and provide you with multiple options for the delivery of the training, including classroom, and computer-based. They will even develop operation manuals specific to the role that new customer advocates will always be able to refer to when the need arises."

"How long would something like that usually take?" Bruce asked with obvious interest.

"Thirty to ninety days," I said. "It will depend on how much you can get Samantha to contribute willingly versus what the curriculum development specialist has to wait to learn."

"What do you mean?"

I tried to explain, "I know Samantha keeps meticulous records of past projects. Rather than relying solely upon the observation of current projects to gather knowledge of how she does the job; if you could her to share the details of past projects, I believe that her records would allow someone to gain a deeper understanding much faster. Let them review her past projects and be able to ask her about them as they do so. Get Samantha to cooperate with that and you will have training within a couple of months."

"Send me the contact," Bruce said. "I'll run your suggestion by Fred, Carla, and Wayne. When they hear that it came from you, I'm sure that they'll be on board. Once they are, we'll make it well worth Samantha's while to cooperate with everything."

Fred, Carla, and Wayne made up the remainder of the upper management team at Saturn Systems. I knew and trusted all of them. "Look for an e-mail from me in the next five minutes," I told Bruce.

The only news that Samantha had to share with me when she got home that day was that she had made an appointment with her gynecologist for Tuesday of the following week. Her news on Thursday was significantly more interesting.

"A Director!" she kept exclaiming. "They're offering to make me an actual Director in the company! That's one level below a freakin vice president!"

As always, her excitement was contagious. I said, "That's great! What will the new title involve?"

"We are going to create Customer Advocate positions at each of the regional offices in addition to here at headquarters," she explained. "They will all report to me in the short-term, with the eventual goal being for them to report to regional supervisors who will then report to me. Initially, I will have approximately fifteen direct reports, but that will drop to five once supervisors are in place."

"Wait a second," I said. "You've always told me that you didn't have time to do your job and train someone else how to do your job at the same time. How are you going to train people, especially all around the country?"

Samantha crawled into my lap and kissed me until she felt her desired reaction under her thigh. She broke the kiss and said, "You forget that I know the management team that I work for. They would never have come up with the idea to hire an outside training organization to develop the required training curriculum and then deliver it. The idea had to come from someone else, and that someone else had to be my husband. Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're not mad?" I asked.

Wiggling her skirt-clad derriere against my lap, she asked, "Do I seem mad to you, or do I seem like a wife anxious to reward her husband for always taking care of her?"

Rewarding she was.

~~~

After several rather invasive pelvic examinations and other assorted tests, Samantha's gynecologist explained his findings.

The endometrium of Samantha's uterus had become, for lack of a better term, 'hyperactive'. This is why her menstrual flows had increased so drastically. He told us that there were some medications she could try, but based upon her inability to get pregnant, we might want to consider Samantha having an endometrial ablation. Another option was for her to have a hysterectomy.

Samantha researched the options that her doctor had provided and decided to have the endometrial ablation procedure, coupled with hormones before having to resort to a hysterectomy. She was able to schedule the procedure to be performed in her doctor's office on a Friday afternoon, which would allow her the weekend at home to recover.

I was thankful that it started raining while Samantha was undergoing the procedure. The rain wouldn't impact the procedure in the slightest, but it was forecast to last through the weekend, which would help me to keep Samantha in the house and relaxing rather than her wanting to work outside. I also knew that while she wouldn't need to be bed-ridden, she would stay in bed with me as long as I was there.

She had the expected cramps and more frequent need to urinate after the procedure, but those lasted less than twenty-four hours. By Sunday morning, she had cabin fever and insisted that we go someplace. The place she selected surprised me. It was a store that sold water features and supplies.

Going from maintaining three acres with over two hundred trees to ten acres with only three trees sounds like it wouldn't be too difficult. Unfortunately, we traded being knee-deep in leaves nine months out of the year to being waist high in alfalfa the same amount of time. We had to buy a John Deere lawn tractor immediately after the first of the year and use it at least every other weekend to keep the ten acres of grass under control. It was dirty, dusty, and time-consuming to mow all of the land, but Samantha would frequently beat me to it, leaving me to do perform other landscaping tasks.

Samantha selected the bushes and plants that she wanted to go in front of our house, so I cleared out areas for planters and augmented the existing top layer with silt and clay to create a sandy loam suitable for sustaining plant life. It would take a while for the plants to mature to the point where they would fill in the planters and look decent, but I wasn't in any rush.

Samantha on the other hand wanted to see a more established appearance in our house much faster. To that end, she was now suggesting that we build a water garden, complete with lily pads, various water features, and possibly even some Koi.

After visiting the local store that Sunday, I did a little research and told her that I thought that I could design and built something that she would like without us having to hire someone to do it for us. As long as she was patient, and let me work on it as my schedule permitted, I told her that I would be happy to give her the water garden that she wanted, and she agreed.

Over the next few months, I would spend a few hours each day that I was home working on Samantha's water garden. I would dig a little each day, filling a few wheelbarrows with dirt and spreading it around the ten acres so that I didn't have just one big pile of it to deal with.

Samantha's interest in the water garden, along with almost everything else, was taking a backseat to her focus on her new role at work. She was going in earlier and staying later specifically to allow her to keep supporting her project activity yet still have an hour or two each day to spend with the curriculum developer.

I was as supportive of her as ever, even buying her a computer for our home that allowed her to spend six to eight hours each weekend working on her projects so that she could keep up with everything. I had dinner ready for her when she came home every night and tried to find every little task or chore that I could relieve her of to lessen her burdens.

Most of my efforts were appreciated, but not all of them. Samantha gave me the silent treatment for an entire weekend because I had gone to a barber to get my hair cut instead of asking her to do it. She had been too focused on work to notice my hair getting too long, and I knew that she had brought work home for the weekend, so I truly thought that I was being considerate of her, but she apparently felt differently.

The hormone treatments were also presenting Samantha with challenges that I was only mildly of. These included a decrease in her sex drive, radical fluctuations in her weight, feelings of anxiety and irritation, in addition to an increased sensitivity to heat or cold. She was working with her doctor to find the right balance for her, but they hadn't found it yet.

This one Tuesday morning, Samantha was out of the house and on her way to work before dawn. I took a shower and got dressed while waiting for the sun to be fully up. I was planning to lay the rubber liner for the water garden into the completed hole that afternoon, so I took my coffee outside with me to examine the shape and condition of the hole while I decided which direction I would roll the liner when the time came.

I was walking around the hole, drinking my coffee when I got too close to the edge. The side caved in and my right leg fell into the three-foot deep hole. My left leg remained on the surface, bent at the knee but my right leg was straight as my foot hit the hard clay bottom of the hole. I knew immediately from the excruciating pain that I did something to my foot and ankle.

Pulling myself out of the hole, I tried putting weight onto my right foot and knew that it would not be possible. I hopped on my left foot to my truck and climbed onto the driver's seat. I knew that I would not be able to use my right foot to drive, but fortunately, my truck had an automatic transmission and the rural country roads in the area wouldn't have much traffic on them for me to contend with. I started my truck, put it in gear, and proceeded to drive the seven miles to the nearest little town.

These small communities typically could not support a full-time doctor, but one local general practitioner had established several "circuit clinics" that he would make the rounds to on a scheduled basis. I was fortunate that Dr. Currier was in my local clinic that morning, so I hopped in to have him check my foot.

As soon as he saw me hopping in, Dr. Currier said, "Wow. Either you broke something or you have the worst sprain I have ever seen. We need to get an x-ray of that."

I plopped down onto a chair in the waiting room and said, "Okay, go ahead."

"We don't have x-ray equipment here," Dr. Currier explained. "You'll need to go to the hospital in Seguin. Here, I think I have a cane that you can use to help you..."

I accepted the offered cane and hopped back to my truck. I drove the twenty-six miles to Seguin and found the local hospital. Of course, the radiology department was in the far back of the hospital, but I was able to hop and shuffle there on my own. As soon as they had finished with the x-rays, I headed back to the clinic.

Dr. Currier was waiting for me when I returned. He said, "The radiologist called and said that you have broken your calcaneus or your heel bone. You'll probably need surgery."

"Great," I said. "How long will that take? I had a trip to New York scheduled for next week."

Dr. Currier got me into an examination room and told me to give him a few minutes to make some phone calls. When he returned, he said, "I called an orthopedic surgeon who works out of the hospital in Seguin. He took a look at your x-rays and feels that the fracture to your calcaneus isn't bad enough to require surgery, but he won't be able to cast it or anything until the swelling goes down some. I'm going to put you in a splint to help support your injury while allowing the swelling to subside, then you should be able to get with the orthopedist by the end of this week."

I sighed and told him to go ahead. He removed my right shoe and sock, then cut the leg of my jeans along the seam so that I was exposed from my foot to my knee. While he was examining the swelling around my foot and ankle, he asked me what had happened. I explained about falling into a hole that I had dug myself and received a sympathetic chuckle.

"That's going to be a fun story to tell," he said. Then he asked, "What's that pink spot on your shin? Did that happen when you fell into the hole?"

I looked to where he was pointing. "No, that a patch of psoriasis or something. I saw a dermatologist about it and he gave me some cortisone to put on it."

"How long ago was that?"

"Oh, about six months ago," I said.

"Interesting. You've been putting cortisone on it for six months and it hasn't cleared up? Maybe it's not psoriasis, but some other type of dermatitis."

I shrugged and said, "Well, I only put the cortisone on it when it itches."

He nodded and said, "Even so, cortisone should have cleared it up."

"What do you suggest?" I asked as he prepared to start wrapping my foot and leg.

"If you want, I could take a biopsy of the spot, then we could find out exactly what it is and treat it with the right medication."

"Go for it," I said.

It was after eleven in the morning by the time that I got back to our house. I had stopped at the local Rexall pharmacy to get a prescription for pain pills filled and to buy a pair of crutches. Positioning myself into my office chair so that my splinted leg and foot would not hit the side of my desk, I reached for the phone to call Samantha.

I knew that she would be upset that I hadn't called her sooner, but there wasn't anything that her rushing home from work would have accomplished, which is exactly what I knew she would do once she learned that I had been injured. My call to her phone went to voicemail, so I simply left her a message to call me when she had a chance.

I sent a few e-mails to cancel appointments for the rest of the day, and then decide to take a pain pill. Dr. Currier had recommended that I try to keep my foot elevated to help the swelling go down faster, so I placed a couple of pillows on the living room couch, set the cordless phone handset onto the coffee table, and laid down. I must have fallen asleep within minutes.

Samantha's voice as she entered the mudroom from the garage woke me. She was asking why my coffee cup was lying in the front yard next to the hole. I believe that she was expecting me to be in my office while she was saying this, because when she saw that I wasn't where she expected, she called, "AJ, where are you?"

"I'm in the living room," I replied.

I heard her approaching as her heels clicked on the hardwood floor. I knew the instant that she entered the living room.

"Holy fuck! What did you do?" she screamed as she dropped her purse and ran to me.

"I fell into that damn hole this morning and broke my heel bone."

"Why didn't you call me?" she demanded.

"I did."

"When?"

"It was probably around eleven-thirty," I said. "I left you a message to call me back, but I guess you never got it."

She nudged me so that I would slide over enough for her to sit beside me before answering, "I'm sorry, I got tied up with customer calls all afternoon and never even checked my messages. So, explain to me what happened."

I described how the side of the hole had collapsed, my trek to the clinic, then to the hospital and back, and finally the diagnosis and instructions from Dr. Currier. I forgot to mention the biopsy.

Samantha sobbed, "Oh, Sweetie, I am so sorry that I wasn't here to help you, but I'm here now. What can I get for you? Do you want some ice to help with the swelling or anything? Maybe another pain pill?"

I pulled her down to hug her and said, "There's not much that you could have done besides holding my hand. It wasn't worth you missing work over, especially now when you have so much going on. Now that your home though, maybe you could change your clothes and then fix us something to eat. I never had lunch."

Chapter Twelve

Samantha tried pampering me beyond measure whenever she was home, but I convinced her that I was fine at home by myself during the day and that her missing work to care for me would only create more challenges for us both. She reluctantly agreed to go to work each day, but spent fewer hours there, opting to work more from home as much as she could.

She came into my office one afternoon as soon as she had arrived home and I could tell from her expression that she was upset about something. She leaned against my desk and asked, "Do you remember Monica Palmer from the Christmas party?"

"Of course. Why?"

"We learned today that she has stage four pancreatic cancer. Scott is naturally devastated."

"Wow, that's awful," I said. "How long have they known that she had cancer? It never came up at the Christmas party."

Samantha shrugged and said, "Apparently, it's not uncommon for there to be no symptoms of pancreatic cancer until it is in stage three or four when there is virtually no hope of curing it. Monica is declining any chemotherapy that will only extend her life a few months at best. Scott has taken an extended leave of absence so that he and the kids can spend as much time as possible with her."

"That's got to be tough," I said. "If I remember right, neither Scott nor Monica had any family left either."

"No, they were both the only child and neither one's parents are still alive. They are all the family that each other and their kids have."

"Not much of a support network for them then," I said. "That can't make it easier."

"No, it can't," Samantha agreed. "How did your appointment go today with the orthopedist?"

I had been contemplating what I would tell Samantha about my doctor visit today. She had enough on her plate with work, and now the news about Monica Palmer likely dying of cancer. Did I want to give her something else to worry about until all the facts were available? I decided that if the roles were reversed, I would want to know.

"I didn't go to the orthopedist today. It was Dr. Currier who wanted to see me."

Samantha has a questioning expression on her face as she asked, "Isn't he the GP who referred you to the orthopedist? Why would he need to see you now?"

I described what Dr. Currier noticed when he was preparing to splint my foot and leg and then said, "He wanted to discuss the results of the biopsy with me."

Samantha stood straighter and said, "I assume that the results were not completely negative or he wouldn't have wasted his time asking you to come in. What did he say?"

"He started by saying that he wanted to send the biopsy off to Duke University. He feels that they are the best place to clarify the initial test results and doesn't want to take any further action until he gets their report."

"Why? What did the initial results indicate?"

"Something about abnormal T-cell formation suggesting possible mycosis fungoides."

Samantha's impatience was evident in her voice, "I understand T-Cells from researching HIV and AIDS, but what in the hell is a mycosis fungoid?"

I pulled Samantha onto my lap and said, "Mycosis fungoides is the most common form of a type of blood cancer called cutaneous T-cell lymphoma."

"No!" she gasped.

I placed my arms around her and pulled her tight against my body. I said, "There's nothing to worry about yet. Even if Duke University confirms the biopsy results, Dr. Currier did a complete body exam of me today and found no other spots of concern. According to him, that means that I would be in the earliest stage if I had mycosis fungoides and it would be easily curable. He would refer me to a dermatologist and probably an oncologist so that the two of them could decide on my treatment."

"Why didn't you mention that you had the biopsy done?" Samantha asked with tears in her eyes. "Didn't you think that I would want to know?"

"To be honest, I simply forgot about it. With the pain from the broken foot, the minor pain at the biopsy site was easy for me to dismiss. Then, with my leg wrapped in the splint, followed by being in the cast, the spot was covered and I didn't even think about it until I got the call from Dr. Currier to come in to discuss the results. Originally, Dr. Currier and I were treating the spot as just some insignificant dermatitis; nothing worth mentioning."

"I suppose that I can understand that," Samantha said. "How long before we can expect to hear back from Duke University?"

"Dr. Currier estimates a couple of weeks at the most, but definitely before my cast is due to come off in four weeks. The spot will inaccessible until then anyway."

"Well, I guess all we can do wait," Samantha said. "I'm going to go change and then start dinner..."

I interrupted her and said, "Go change, but dinner is already taken care of. I made a pot roast this afternoon so all we need to do is heat things up."

Samantha did not seem overjoyed with my announcement. She stood and said, "AJ, you shouldn't be on your feet that much. I'm still capable of fixing our dinner when I get home."

"I just sat on one of the barstools to prepare everything," I told her. "Plus, I wanted to give you more time for the work I know that you brought home. I'm hoping that without you having to worry about fixing dinner, you'll finish your work early enough for us to spend some time together in bed before you fall asleep."

Samantha had a frown on her face when she said, "I'll see what I can do. I'll change and meet you in the kitchen, but don't even try to do the dishes or anything after we eat."

My reply of, "Yes, Ma'am," was not received as the conciliatory message I had intended it to be.

~~~

Samantha's focus on her job seemed to increase over the next several months as additional customer advocates were hired and trained. During this time, the cast had come off my leg and foot. I curtailed my travels so that I could attend both physical therapy to restrengthen my ankle and to undergo ten radiation treatments to cure the confirmed case of mycosis fungoides.

I tried to remain as supportive of my wife as I could, making sure that her burdens at home were as minimal as possible. Dusting, cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms, mopping the floors; nothing was left for her to worry about. Although I had always done the laundry, I added ironing of hers and my clothes to my list of tasks. I even made certain that any of her dry-cleaning got taken to the cleaners and picked up so that she wouldn't have to take the time to do it.

While I never denied her the opportunity to accompany me to either my physical therapy sessions or any of my medical appointments, I discouraged her from taking time off work to join me because I knew that she would feel obligated to make that time up by working later in the office or by bringing more work home.

It seemed that no matter what I did to provide Samantha with as much leisure time at home as possible, she would use that time for other purposes. We were spending little time together anymore other than when we were asleep in bed. Most of our communication took place through e-mail, which is how I learned that Monica Palmer has succumbed to her cancer just before Easter.

One Friday evening in May, Samantha started peeling potatoes right after dinner. I asked, "What are the potatoes for?"

"I'm making potato salad," was her reply.

"For any particular reason?"

"I'm going to take it to a small event that a few of the women from work are holding tomorrow. Everyone agreed to bring a side dish."

"I didn't know that we had anything on the calendar for tomorrow," I told her.

"Sometimes my calendar and yours have different entries," Samantha said. "It's like all of your doctor appointments. They're on your calendar, but never seem to make it to mine."

I stared at her across the kitchen counter for a few minutes, just watching her peel and then cut up the potatoes. I finally said, "Let's cut to the chase. Do you want me to accompany you tomorrow or not?"

Samantha kept her eyes on her task rather than looking at me. She said, "I think your time tomorrow would be better spent getting a haircut. When you're done with that, maybe you can start filling in that hole in our front yard."

The comment about the haircut was an obvious zinger, but I chose to ignore it. "Now that my foot and leg have healed, I had planned to lay the liner in the hole tomorrow and then place the stones around the edge as we had discussed. The water garden should be ready to fill with water on Sunday."

Turning her back on me to place the pan of water with the potatoes onto the stove, she said, "I don't think we should continue with the water garden. It might look good when standing right in front of it, but with it being in the ground, it won't provide the curb appeal from the street that I envisioned. Just fill the hole and I'll think of something else."

"Where am I suppose to get the dirt to fill in the hole that you insisted that I dig?" I asked with thinly disguised irritation.

"Don't know and I don't care. Oh, before I forget, I'm going to be in Chicago for three days next week. I'll e-mail you my itinerary on Monday."

"I appreciate your consideration," I said as I stood. I went to my office to get the latest Tom Clancy novel and took it to our bedroom. I was through the first two chapters before Samantha finally joined me. She didn't say a word as she performed her nightly rituals. When she climbed into bed, she picked up the David Morrell novel that she had been reading, found her bookmark, and resumed the story. If she kissed me goodnight, I slept through it.

~~~

"Can you book me a flight to Islip, New York on Friday using the miles in your account?"

Samantha usually stopped by my office before she left for work since she had to walk right past it to go through the mudroom into the garage. I looked up from the report that I was reviewing at my desk and asked my wife, "What's in Islip?"

"Other than an airport, I have no idea," Samantha said. "I was just told that it was the most convenient airport, but if tickets weren't available, LaGuardia airport would be the next best option."

"Do you need me to arrange a hotel and rental car?" I asked.

Without the slightest hesitation, Samantha said, "No. Scott will pick me up from the airport and I'll stay with him. Try to get me a return flight as late as possible on Sunday."

"Scott?" I asked. "Scott Palmer?"

Samantha simply nodded.

"Let me make sure that I understand your request," I said. "You're asking me to use frequent flyer miles to book you a flight so that you can spend next weekend with another man at his house. Do I have things right?"

"That's correct," Samantha said. "I told him that I would come out and help him sort through some of Monica's things, helping him decide what to keep for their daughter, what to donate to charity, what to toss, and so on. He needs the help, so I offered. I sacrificed not being with you while you earned most of the miles in the account, so I consider them community property."

I picked up a pad of Post-It notes and wrote on it. I pulled off the note and handed it to Samantha. "Here is the URL for the website you will need, along with my user name and password. If you want to use 'our' miles to betray me by spending a weekend with some man rather than with me, you can do it yourself."

Samantha took the note and said, "Quit being so dramatic. I'm just going to help a grieving husband and father sort out a few of his dead wife's things. There is nothing going on between me and Scott but friendship."

I ignored Samantha and went back to reviewing the report. Once she had left my office, I closed the door behind her. Of course, nothing in the report registered with me. My mind was too wrapped up trying to understand the disintegration of my marriage. I questioned whether understanding would ever be possible, but I knew that I wouldn't, and couldn't accept Samantha's betrayal and disrespect. Our marriage, our whole relationship had always felt essential and necessary. Now it was feeling like a burden that I needed to shed.

There was not much solace in my belief that Samantha had been honest with me, at least as far as I could tell. She could have lied about her plans for the weekend, and maybe she was lying about her intentions, but it would be tough for me to know unless I knew what she and Scott did behind closed doors at his house. Even if my trust in Samantha wasn't as fragile as her announcement had made it, I knew with certainty that I couldn't trust Scott Palmer to be alone with her.

It was only Tuesday, and fortunately, I didn't have a lot on my plate. It took me less than half an hour to move my clothes from the dresser in the master bedroom to the one in the guest bedroom and my toiletries into the guest bath. Once nine AM rolled around, I called and made an appointment with the County Attorney.

Russell Walker was the County Attorney for Wilson County, but he also had his own general law practice. We had become acquainted through various civic and political events in the county, so he knew who I was and was more than happy to meet me for lunch. I spent the remainder of the morning gathering the financial details that I knew Russell would need.

There isn't a great deal for the County Attorney in a small county like Wilson to do, so Russell was able to dedicate the required time to have a divorce petition ready for me by Thursday afternoon. I picked up two copies from him and headed home.

Samantha had just shaken her head in annoyance when she realized that I had decided to move into the guest bedroom. She came home from work earlier on Thursday than she had in months, and I knew that she did so in order to pack for her trip. She would go directly from her office to the San Antonio airport Friday afternoon.

I walked into the master bedroom as she was packing and placed the manila envelope containing her copy of the divorce petition on top of the clothes that she had already placed in her suitcase.

"What's that?" she asked.

I turned and headed out of the room. Stopping at the door, I turned and said, "Something that you need to review over the weekend. Get back to me on Monday with any changes that you would like to discuss."

I was emptying the dishwasher when Samantha found me. She had the paperwork from the manila envelope in her hand. "You are being an ass," she said. "Me going to help a friend and coworker in his time of need has nothing to do with our marriage."

Samantha opened a drawer and removed a lighter that we use to light the fire pit in the backyard. She lit it and then moved the flame to a corner of the documents and watched as they started burning. Turning the pages to keep the flames moving up, she dropped the burning papers into the sink and stomped back to the master bedroom.

~~~

When I arrived home Monday evening, I saw that Samantha's car was in the garage. I got out of my truck, retrieved my duffle bag and briefcase, then walked through the mudroom to drop the briefcase in my office. I had just set the duffle bag onto the bed in the guest bedroom when Samantha appeared at the door.

"Where were you all weekend? I tried calling both the home phone and your cell dozens of times from when I landed in Islip until I arrived back in San Antonio."

I ignored her and started unpacking. She stepped into the room and said, "I want you to know what happened over the weekend. You need to know..."

"I don't need to know. I don't want to know. You went away to spend time with another man rather than me. That's all I need to know, and nothing that you tell me will alter that fact."

"Nothing happened between Scott and me," she pleaded. "He wanted something to happen, but I shut him down immediately."

I continued unpacking as I said, "Part of our life was just you and me against the world. It was a connection we confirmed every time we held hands, every time we cuddled or kissed. We confirmed it every time we talked about our plans, about our love, or about our past. Now that's gone. Whatever happened this weekend, you've spent it sharing those parts of you with someone else instead of me. I'm sure you talked about our marriage with him, and especially about me. And the fact that you let him into your thoughts and feelings about us dilutes the intimacy we shared. Our marriage and even our friendship are cheapened."

"My God," Samantha said. "Is that how you really feel?"

"Don't!" I snapped. "Don't stand there acting surprised by how I feel. You knew how I felt when you told me of your plans and you damn well knew how I would feel if you went through with them. I had fucking divorce paperwork drawn up and you destroyed that as easily as you destroyed my trust and faith in your love for me. So, don't you dare act surprised."

"I... I," Samantha stammered.

I cut her attempt to speak off, "Everybody at Saturn Systems knows that our marriage was heading south except you apparently. I quit making excuses for why you were not including me at company events when Bruce Winters or someone else would call to find out why I didn't accompany my wife."

I stormed past her, across the hall to my office, and she turned to follow me. I picked my copy of the divorce paperwork off the top of my desk and tossed it to her. "This is your last chance to review the paperwork before it gets filed as-is. I want your response by this time tomorrow."

I walked past her again and returned to finish unpacking. Samantha stood in the doorway crying, while I ignored her. When I tossed the empty duffle bag into the closet, she said, "Please tell me where you were this weekend. I was so worried when I came home yesterday and you weren't here."

I stood staring at her with my arms crossed for several seconds before responding, "I spent the weekend with Marley."

Samantha visibly deflated when she heard my response, and I had suspected that she would. Marley Evans and I were high school sweethearts. We had reconnected at our last reunion and Samantha was convinced that Marley still carried a torch for me. She had discouraged me from spending any time with Marley alone on the few occasions where she and I attended the same conference or convention.

"What's the matter?" I asked with a chuckle. "Don't you trust me?"

I walked past her one last time, went into the guest bathroom, closed and locked the door. She was not waiting when I came out ten minutes later and went to bed.

~~~

I had noticed that a lot about a mile down our road was being staked out for a house foundation. I could tell by the slope of the land where the stakes were that significant excavation would be required to either level the land or dig out the partial basement level of the future house. I kept an eye on the lot, and as soon as I saw the excavation crew arrive, I went to talk to them.

They confirmed that they would be moving a lot of dirt on the lot, and planned to have a dump truck come by when the time came to haul the dirt away. I asked if I could take some of the dirt to fill a hole in my yard, and they said that as long as I moved it myself, they wouldn't mind.

Once the pile was large enough, I drove my truck to the lot and began shoveling dirt into the bed. The foreman of the excavation crew took mercy on me and had their skip loader to fill the bed of my truck with the dirt. I was on my own to unload the dirt back at my house, but only having to exert myself on one end of each trip made things much easier.

By the time that Samantha arrived home on Tuesday evening, the hole for the water garden had been refilled with dirt. I was physically exhausted as I asked, "I was going to grill a steak. Do you want me to throw one on for you?"

Samantha surprised me by giving me a quick kiss and saying, "Yes, please. I'll change and then make us each a salad. Do you want anything else?"

"I was going to reheat the ranch-style beans from last week," I said. "You can have some of those or make whatever else you want."

"Those will be fine," she said. "I'll be right back."

She gave me another kiss and hurried into the master bedroom to change. I went out to start the grill and decided to go ahead and feed the dogs while I was waiting for it to heat up.

When I came back inside, Samantha was flitting around the kitchen. I found it depressing to see her in a cheerier mood today than I had witnessed from her over the past several months. Tonight, she was supposed to provide me with her decision on the divorce petition, so maybe the prospect of our marriage ending is what was making her happy.

Over our dinner, Samantha spoke animatedly about her day at work, also something that she hadn't done for months. She seemed genuinely interested in my story about how I got the dirt to fill in the water garden, and sincerely apologetic about having changed her mind on the project.

When we had finished eating, I began to clear the dishes, but Samantha stopped me. "AJ, please let the dishes wait. Let's go into the living room and talk."

I didn't say anything, but simply walked into the living room and took a seat in one of the recliners. Samantha had gone into the master bedroom, I assumed to retrieve the divorce paperwork. When she entered the living room and saw where I was sitting, she took a seat on the couch across from me.

Holding the paperwork in her lap, Samantha sighed, and said, "I accept that you consider what I did last weekend as a betrayal of your love and that you feel that I destroyed the bond of trust between us. So, if we want this marriage to work again, we are going to have to rebuild our fundamental faith in each other from the ground up. I want to invoke section fourteen point nine of the maintenance agreement that we both signed after we first started living together."

She rose and handed me the paperwork that she had been holding. I saw that it wasn't the divorce petition, but the "Relationship Maintenance Agreement" that we had drafted right after we had moved in together. It contractually bound each of us to take certain actions that would nourish and sustain our relationship, but also specified corrective measures that one or the other of us could invoke should they feel that the relationship was in jeopardy.

She had folded several of the pages back so that the top page presented to me had specific paragraphs highlighted, I assumed by Samantha. It was the section that required both of us to agree to binding arbitration when we could not jointly agree on measures to restore the relationship to a functional state.

Samantha had returned to the couch. I looked at her and said, "Please explain."

Samantha had tears starting to form in her eyes as she said, "I talked to Dora today for hours. Needless to say, I didn't get a lick of real work done. As Dora and I talked, she helped me realize what I think happened to me. I say 'I think', because it's probably just one of several things that I need help to deal with. I'm hoping, no, I'm praying that you will go to counseling with me to help me understand everything I have done to make you give up on me, and on us."

I just stared at her for several minutes, glancing occasionally at the document in my hands. "I'm going to have to think about it," I finally said.

Samantha nodded, seemingly accepting that I wouldn't make any decision without considering things completely. She asked, "Will you return to our bedroom while you think about it?"

I shook my head no.

"Can I ask why?" Samantha said.

I didn't want to be mean or cruel, which is exactly how I knew that she would take my reasoning. The fact was that I would refuse to share a bed with her or any other intimacies until she showed me a clean bill of health, with no sexually transmitted diseases indicated. The problem was how to tell her that while still keeping a flicker of hope for our relationship alive. I knew what I had to do.

I ignored her question and asked, "How do you expect counseling to work with your busy schedule?"

"Oh, AJ, I know that I haven't shown it to you lately, but you are and will always be the priority in my life. I will quit my damn job before I risk losing you. The problem isn't with you. You don't need counseling, but I need you there with me to hear everything if I have any hope of restoring your faith in me. I know that. So, I'll find a counselor. I'll make the appointments, and I'll be at every one, pleading with the counselor and to you to help me understand why I have done anything to hurt the man that I love and cherish more than anything in the world. I will do anything it takes to win your love again."

"Please try to make the appointments on the same day of the week and at the same time if possible," I said. "That will make it easier for both of us to adjust our schedules so we don't miss any of them."

Samantha had an almost tentative smile on her face when she asked, "Are Thursdays at eleven in the morning good for you? I'm hoping that you and I could have lunch after each session to discuss what was said while it was still fresh in our minds."

"Have you already made the appointment?" I asked.

She nodded and said, "I knew that regardless of whether you agreed to accompany me, I needed to talk to someone about why I have changed where you and I are concerned. I hate what I have done, and I need to fix things or I wouldn't be able to live with myself, with or without you in my life."

"Well, I'm still in your life," I said. "Send me the details on where to be and I'll see you there on Thursday."

"Thank you, AJ. Can I show you something else?"

I merely nodded. Samantha stood and removed something from the back pocket of her jeans. She unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to me. She watched in anticipation as I examined it.

When she saw me glance up at her, she said, "I promise on all that is sacred that nothing happened between Scott and me. He tried every sad story he could, trying to convince me that he needed my physical comfort to help him get past his grief over Monica, and when he wouldn't stop when I asked him to, I checked into a hotel rather than remain at his house. That's the receipt so you can see that I'm not lying to you."

I held up the hotel receipt and said, "This is for Saturday night."

"I slept on the trundle bed in his daughter's room Friday night," Samantha said. "His kids were there when I arrived, so I got to meet them. Scott farmed them out to spend Saturday night with different neighbors so that he and I would be alone. When I learned of his intentions, I moved to the hotel."

I handed the receipt back to her as I stood. "Wait here," I said.

I went into my office and returned with a piece of paper that I handed to Samantha. As soon as she recognized it as a hotel receipt from my visit with Marley, a smile broke across her face.

"I'm going to sleep much better now," Samantha said as she handed the receipt back to me. Her expression saddened as she continued, "Not that I'm going to get much sleep knowing that you're sleeping in the guest room and it's my fault."

"Look," I said, as we stood feet apart looking at each other, "I'm not going to let you take all the blame for where we are today. I obviously did things that contributed to the situation, although I have no idea right now what they might have been. Hopefully, meeting with a counselor together will help us both understand. I hope so anyway."

Samantha's body fell against me so suddenly that I had no choice but to catch her and hold her to prevent both of us from falling. She cried, "God, you don't know how you saying that you have hope, even if it is just hope for understanding, buoys my spirits. I love you with all my heart and I want us fixed so badly."

I released her from our embrace and Samantha stepped back. She was looking up at me with an expression of hope. For the first time in months, I was able to see her love for me once more visible in her eyes.

"Try to get some sleep," I told her. "Rest knowing that I also love you with all of my heart, and as long as you're willing to work on us, I'll be right beside you."

Samantha nodded and we each retired to our separate bedrooms. I'm not sure if Samantha ever got any sleep in her room, but I know that she was sleeping soundly in my bed when I awoke the next morning.

~~~

It became obvious to me during our first session with Elizabeth Shilling, that more than anything else, Samantha needed a 'sounding board', or someone to explain herself to, other than me.

I suspect that it was her conversations with Dora over the past week that had provided Samantha with insights into what had changed, but she came into our first session with the counselor with remarkable confidence. She was also impatient to start discussing our current issues rather than wasting time describing to Eliza, as she preferred to be called, how we had met and evolved into becoming husband and wife.

Samantha reluctantly acquiesced to following the path laid out for our sessions by the counselor while we were with her, but she roared full-speed ahead with what she wanted to share with me while we were at lunch following the sessions.

"While we both knew that my hormones were going bonkers, I'm not going to use that as an excuse," Samantha said. "I stopped taking hormones after two months, but it was during the time that I was taking them that other things happened."

We were sitting in a diner across the street from Eliza's office, waiting for our lunch order to be served. "What other things?" I asked.

Samantha took my hand in hers and said, "I got the promotion at work to begin with. I didn't have to devote as much time to work as I did, but your actions made it too easy for me to do just that. I took advantage of you and began to resent you letting me."

"I was just trying to be supportive and make things as easy as possible for you," I explained.

"I understand that now, but try to consider things as they were happening back then. Right after I got the promotion, you broke your foot. I found myself vacillating between being disappointed in myself for not being there to take care of you and being angry with you for constantly denying me any chance to care for you even when I tried."

I didn't reply, but simply nodded my understanding. I realized that while I was trying to make Samantha's life as easy as possible, I had apparently given her the impression that I didn't need her. For someone as passionate about taking responsibility for my health and happiness, my actions must have seemed almost as devastating as her flying to spend the weekend with Scott Palmer.

Samantha continued, "I think the end result was that I no longer felt needed or appreciated by you and that you were purposely denying me my role as your wife to take responsibility for you, your health, your happiness, and your every desire. I now know that was wrong because I realize that everything you did to support and encourage me was done out of your need to be responsible for my health, happiness, and desires."

"Dearest wife," I said. "We need to be partners, but relationships are seldom a clear fifty-fifty split. There will often be times when one of us needs the other to bear a heavier burden, which is what I thought that I was doing in my efforts to support you and lighten your load. God, Samantha, if I ever did anything to make you feel that I don't appreciate and need you, I am sorrier than I can express with words."

"Oh, AJ, you didn't do anything but continue to be the best husband in the world. While my funk might have started while my hormones were screwed up, I should have taken more time later to think about what I was feeling and discuss it with you. I'm the one that twisted your love and support into anger and resentment. I'm the one that let someone else talk me into being appreciated by them instead of you."

I smiled at Samantha and waited for our meal to be served before asking, "So, does that mean that you will start cutting my hair again?"

Her smile lit up the entire restaurant, "First things first."

"Okay, I'll bite," I chuckled, "What comes first?"

Samantha winked and said, "We both do. No haircut for you until we both cum. Be ready to resume your husbandly duties the minute that I get home."

Chapter Thirteen

I never thought, and I certainly wouldn't have expected that watching a sixty-year-old woman putting on her bikini would turn me on as much as it did.

Of course, it helped that the woman in question had the body of someone forty years younger. While there were obvious signs around her eyes and a few other places that made it evident that Samantha was aging, her body was still as tight and toned as the first day we met.

Samantha had been a senior vice president at Saturn Systems for several years, earning a significant six-digit income when she took early retirement. My income had always been enough for us to live comfortably, so hers had been banked or invested. That, plus selling my consulting business for several million dollars gave us financial security for the rest of our lives.

As we approached almost thirty years together, we are as devoted to our future together as when we first became a couple. There were a few bumpy spots; some mentioned earlier and some not worth mentioning. Our counselor, Eliza, instilled in us a commitment to our partnership that we continually embrace. We collectively put one-hundred percent into our relationship every day. It's not always fifty-fifty, but one of us will acknowledge the need to do more, and the other will recognize the extra effort of their partner. It keeps working for us.

"Did you check the tide table?" Samantha asked as she slid into her sandals.

"Yep. Low tide should be just a few minutes after sunrise this morning," I assured her.

After I sold my consulting business and Samantha and I both decided to retire. We spent a couple of years traveling the world before deciding that we wanted to live someplace near the ocean. As residents of Texas, it would have been easiest for us to move somewhere along the Texas gulf coast, but the frequency of hurricanes shot that idea down pretty quick.

Next for consideration was someplace along the Florida panhandle so that we would be closer to Dora and Keith, who was then retired from the Air Force and working in property management. That idea was discarded when they informed us that Keith had been hired by a large resort management company in Myrtle Beach and that they would be relocating there.

We visited the Myrtle Beach area and felt that it was someplace that we would enjoy spending our retired years. Having Dora and Keith close by was an appealing added incentive.

When deciding to move to the Grand Strand of South Carolina, we planned to retire and buy or build a house in the Cherry Grove section of North Myrtle Beach, but we could never find either a house or a lot that met our requirements. We considered planned developments such as Grand Dunes but dismissed them due to the HOA restrictions. We finally found a beautiful half-acre lot on Forty-Sixth Avenue North in Myrtle Beach that was only a short one-block stroll to the public beach access.

In the seven months since our house had been built, we had made it a tradition to be on the beach every morning in time to watch the sunrise. Our requirements for the house were simple; it had to be located less than three blocks from the beach, it had to be single-story, it could not belong to an HOA, and it had to have a yard that could be fenced for the dogs.

When I wasn't admiring my wife, and sometimes, Dora in their bikinis, I was dabbling with ideas for the next great American novel and volunteering for several civic committees.

Keith was the maintenance manager for the resort company and saw no reason to retire as long as he enjoyed the work. Dora and Samantha spent hours together each week cooking together or shopping for ingredients for the next cooking session. I got a kick out of the fact that much of what Samantha cooked was shared with the cooks and bartenders at several of the restaurants that Samantha and I frequented. Samantha took pride and great joy in sending food to a restaurant that the staff praised over the same item that they had on their menu.

Waiting to cross Ocean Boulevard, I asked Samantha, "Only the one bucket this morning?"

After the sunrise, once it was light enough, Samantha and I would walk the beach searching for the seashell de jour. Depending upon the craft project that she and Dora were collaborating on, one day we might be looking for Moon Snails, and another day we might be looking for Letter Olives.

"I have a couple of plastic bags in the bucket if we need them," Samantha said. "We're going to be looking for some nice pieces of coral today. Dora thinks that we can use them to make some unique trivets."

We held hands as we walked across the dunes towards the surf line. I said, "I guess I could see coral working for trivets but it will be a challenge to achieve two flat sides, don't you think?"

"I thought the same thing," Samantha said, "but Dora has an idea where we could use clay as the base. The pieces of coral would be pressed into the soft clay base then something flat would be used to level them off before the entire piece was baked in a kiln. Anyway, our part of the project is to collect the coral and I'll let Dora worry about what to do with them after."

"What does she intend to do with the trivets once she makes them?"

"One of her neighbors has a table at the weekend craft fair in The Market Common that raises money for the homeless shelter," Samantha explained. "Dora wants to give the trivets to her neighbor to sell. I am going to be sending her some of my seashell wreaths as well."

We paused to watch the sun as it began to rise out of the Atlantic Ocean. There were just enough clouds to catch and reflect the colors of the sunrise to make the entire sky glow as if being on fire. Samantha handed me her bucket so that her hands would be free to take pictures of the sunrise with her cellphone.

Rain or shine, Samantha had captured at least one picture of the sunrise every morning since we had moved into our home. She had told me the first morning that she intended to keep a gallery of sunrise photos for us to treasure when the time came that we were no longer able to go out to view them in person any longer. We were both in excellent health for our ages, and we were in much better shape than people years younger than us, so hopefully it would be decades before we had to stop our morning tradition.

We typically walked north along the beach while waiting for the sunrise so that we would be facing the sun as it rose. After sunrise, we would turn and start walking south so that the growing light was at our backs, allowing us to see things on the sand better.

"When was Travis trying to come out?" Samantha asked.

Although I hadn't spoken to my daughter, Paige in more than twenty-five years, Bryce had remained in contact with me. He had discovered that he had fathered a baby when three days after the birth, the girl had shown up at his door and said, "Congratulations, you're a father. Here's your son. See you later."

I had helped Bryce verify paternity, and once that was confirmed, assisted him with getting sole custody of his son. That status lasted only a few months before Bryce begged Samantha and me to take the infant off his hands. For the next eighteen years, Travis was raised primarily by me and Samantha, with a few short stints with Bryce that never lasted more than a couple of months. Travis was now married and had a successful career with a promising future.

"He said that he and Toni are hoping to both get vacation time in June. What he doesn't know is whether they will come out here to visit or go to California to visit Linda and Paige. Since we were at their wedding last year but Linda and Paige missed it, they will probably choose to go see them."

"So Paige is still living with Linda?" Samantha asked.

"That's what I understand, but neither Bryce nor Travis are very forthcoming with information when they get it. I hear rumors that Paige moved back home after her divorce so that Linda could help take care of her sons while Paige worked."

Samantha shook her head in disbelief and said, "It's been more than thirty years. Cosmo passed away so he is no longer an influence on them. I can't understand Linda, and especially Paige remaining so bitter towards us. You have grandkids that you have never seen..."

"I don't even know their names, let alone their birthdays," I reminded her. "I can only assume that they don't even know that I exist."

"Well, it's not for a lack of effort on your part. We've sent Paige thousands of dollars in checks over the years and not one of them was ever cashed. Then there is how well Travis turned out. They have to recognize that it was your influence rather than Bryce's that made Travis the man he has become."

"Not necessarily," I said. "I haven't confronted either of them, but I would not be surprised if Travis hasn't been encouraged by Bryce to downplay our role in his upbringing. Bryce is still seeking favor from his mother, and he would not want to antagonize her by talking too much about us. I'm willing to bet that unless Linda or Paige asks about us, we are never mentioned by Bryce or Travis."

The beach was getting more populated with people, which was our indication that we had walked south to where the resorts started. We turned and headed north once again. When we reached the beach access at Forty-Sixth Avenue North, Samantha's bucket and one of the plastic bags were full of coral pieces.

~~~

Another morning tradition that Samantha and I had adopted since moving into our house was to shower together when we returned from the beach to rinse the sand and salt from our skin. While the shower wasn't entirely utilitarian, we usually did limit our amorous activities.

Dry and naked, Samantha would be propped up on our bed, iPad in hand when I joined her with the lotion that Samantha preferred for her feet. Sand between the toes can be therapeutic for the soul, but it can also wreak havoc on the soles of one's feet. As Samantha launched the iPad and searched for a story on Literotica, I would massage the lotion onto her feet.

Gone were the days of relying upon magazines for the stories that got Samantha going. She now had a virtually endless supply of erotica available to her online. By the time that she had found a story that interested her, I had finished with her feet and was ready to perform my husbandly duties.

Do you know how rewarding it can be to bring carnal pleasure to the sexiest sixty-year-old woman in the world? I'll just tell you that she keeps my medicine cabinet free of Viagra, Cialis, or Levitra.

Oh, and that tan line fetish only gets better with time.

***

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