Tied in Knots (and not in a good way)

In the course of helping L this past Sunday, moving her things from B’s to S’s, she and I stepped over a line. Not the one you’re probably thinking of; we stepped over that line long ago and I don’t feel particularly bad about it. No, the line we stepped over Sunday is much worse.

L had anticipated months ago, when things were seemingly okay with her and B, that it could all go sour and quickly. She was still staying in the little house, and a good deal of her things were there that she didn’t want to have held hostage should she and B split up again, so she had a spare key made that she didn’t tell B or the FiL about. Just in case, you see.

But Sunday, when she and I went over there, the key didn’t work. I wound up taking a window unit air conditioner out of a ground floor window and crawling through to get into the house. At the time it seemed reasonable, and once in all we got out were L’s things. The way B was talking, it was by no means sure that he wouldn’t change the locks and/or do anything else he could to make it difficult or impossible to get to her things that were still there, and we had to get them out before he had the chance to.

But it was wrong. Even if L’s key had worked, it was wrong to go into the FiL’s property without his permission. I have no doubt that, had he been home, he would have allowed us in. He might have watched us to make sure we didn’t take anything of B’s, and he almost certainly would have called B and told him we were there, which would have made it more difficult once we got to B’s to get the other things. But that would have been the correct way to do things.

But he was gone Sunday, not to return until later that evening. L didn’t want to give B a chance to foul things up for her getting the stuff, and though she did fret about it and wish that the FiL had a cell phone so she could at least call him, in the end we essentially broke in. I keep feeling it necessary to say we didn’t take anything that didn’t belong to her, but it really doesn’t matter I guess.

The plan all along was for L to stick it out a little longer with B, hiding the fact that she was going to be leaving as soon as this coming weekend. Meanwhile, I was going to talk to the FiL this week, explaining that they weren’t working out, that B had already told L he wanted her gone and L wanted to get gone. I was going to ask him if the wife and I could get her things that weekend (or whenever L decided), and further ask him to not say anything to B at first. L wanted a clean, drama-free break where she could get her things without B being there to give her shit about it.

But B fucked all that up Saturday night and Sunday morning, agitating L to the point where she panicked and did the only thing she thought she could do. And since the FiL wasn’t reachable, all her intentions of at least handling that part of it the right way went out the window. And I went along with it, despite knowing it was wrong.

I told L on Sunday that I would talk with the FiL yesterday, Wednesday, and explain what we did and why. I was going to apologize for myself, and on L’s behalf, and assure him that we didn’t want it to happen that way but circumstances caused us to act before we were ready. I don’t know how much good it would have done, but it would have been the right thing. The only reason I was waiting until Wednesday was that I didn’t want the wife to be any more involved than she had to be. She knew L and I had gotten her things, but didn’t know how we got in, and might not even be completely aware that the FiL didn’t know something about it from before. So I wanted to go there when the wife was at a game, and Wednesday was the first home game to take advantage of.

Of course a neighbor saw us Sunday morning. We’re lucky she didn’t call the cops, I guess, but she did wind up telling the FiL, who told B (I assume that’s how it happened.) I found out when B sent me an angry text yesterday, ending with the demand to “stay the fuck away from him.” I told him (as I intended to tell his father) that I was sorry, and we didn’t want it to happen that way, but his own actions caused us to jump the way we did. I also said not to blame the wife, because she had nothing to do with it.

She’s quite fond of the FiL, and they go to ballgames together. In fact, he’s paid for her and him to have season tickets the past three years, even though he only goes to six or seven of the games. He just paid for two for next year as well, though I didn’t want him to. I’d already decided to get the money together to pay him back before all this happened, and I’m even more determined to di so now.

Anyway, B just repeated his demand that we stay the fuck away from the FiL. I let L know what was going on, and told her I would call the FiL that evening and see if he’d let me come by to talk to him. I don’t know how mad he is about all this, though I imagine he’s hurt and disappointed. I want to make sure he knows that this wasn’t done as an action against him, and that we wanted to do the right thing.

But when I finally got up the nerve to call on my way home, about 10 minutes from home, he didn’t answer. There’s any number of reasons why he might not have answered, and I could have called back, but I couldn’t get up the nerve to. I don’t feel comfortable initiating phone calls in the first place, but I really hate calling someone I’ve wronged to try to apologize. I especially don’t like it when I don’t know what state of mind they’re in at the time.

I told L this morning that I tried to call once, but then I couldn’t get time alone to try again (the niece was at home, so that wasn’t a lie.) I said I’d call at lunch and talk to him, but when lunch time came I just flat chickened out. L got mad at me, but then apologized, saying it’s the start of shark week and she’s just being pissy. Still, she wants me to call and make sure he knows our side, not just B’s. Also, she still has some things there and wants to know if she can get them, and if she can call him.

The FiL is pretty reasonable, and isn’t the asshole that his son is, so I hope that he will agree to talk to me and let me explain things. I know that, either way, he’ll tell B that I called and B will be even more pissed off. I’m not as concerned about B being mad at me, and truly if the FiL is mad I can’t blame him and I’ll live with it. I just hate that it could affect his and the wife’s relationship.

Fuck, I hate everything about this.

A Peek Into My Childhood (if you dare)

I took a typing class in high school during my 12th grade, and did well enough that I can now type around 100 wpm (if you count backspaces to erase mistakes; otherwise it's only about 35 wpm.) I'd often get bored during our "free typing" periods, and instead of typing whatever stupid lesson the teacher wanted us to work on, I'd just type whatever I wanted. For whatever reason, my mother saved the ones she thought were funny, and gave them to me a few years ago. I re-typed them into electronic format so I wouldn't lose them, and here are some of the results.

This first started out as a real letter to my Grandparents, but I didn't like what I'd written. This was before you could just select a paragraph and delete it and start over, so I continued knowing I would never send it to them. See if you can tell where that break happened.


Dear Granddaddy and Grandma,

Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. How is everyone else there? Thank you, Granddad, for taking me hunting with you and thank you both for the Christmas card and money. I really needed it.

You're probably wondering why I'm typing this letter. My typing class teacher told us to get busy doing something so I decided to kill two birds with one stone, and send you a long overdue letter.

I was hopping you could come down for Christmas, but I guess you couldn't work it out, huh? Speaking of Christmas, what kind of weather did you have there on Christmas day? Here it was in the 70's and very sunny. Might as well have been in Miami!

Listen, I've been wondering for a long time how to tell you this, but I guess the best way is just to come out and say it. You're not my real grandparents. I know we have been telling you that you are for a long time, but the truth is that about 17 years ago we found the two of you in a basket on the front porch. And since I didn't already have any grandparents at the time, I decided to keep you.

The reason I'm telling you this is because I just found out that I do have another set of real grandparents after all, and that they are coming to see me next week. I have really enjoyed having you for grandparents, but now that I have a real set I won't be needing you. I hope you are not too sad because I'm not. If you do get sad, just think of all the good times we had and you'll get over it.

Well, I have to go and get ready or my reunion with my real grandparents (I'm so excited!) You take care of yourselves and be good and don't bother me. As of now, we don't know each other, okay?

Thank you,

Love, me.

This next letter was based on some statistics I'd read, or thought I'd read, or maybe made up. I think it pre-dates the start of the "America's Funniest Home Videos" era as it was 1983, but I seemed to have predicted a version of reality TV.


Dear Viewer,

Did you know that in the next 24 hours, 50 teenagers will attempt suicide, and that 19 will succeed? That's 350 attempts and 126 successes in one week alone.

That's what our new show, "Those Wacky, Wild, Way-out Kids" is all about! In this in-depth show we will present to you all of the different, and sometimes humorous, ways of killing oneself. Maybe you can get an idea of how you can kill yourself. Also featured are some live "Suicides in action" scenes.

I hope you will consider watching this informative and entertaining show. This is just another way we here as WSOB hope to bring you first rate shows about modern people for your evening enjoyment.

Thank you,

Kam Rahman
Entertainment Consultant
WSOB Broadcasting.

Not very sensitive, I suppose, but what 17 year-old boy who listened to punk rock was, right? And if you think that was bad, you might not want to read this last one. I'd seen just one too many "Save the Children for the cost of a cup of coffee" tear-jerking commercials on this particular day.


Dear Sponser,

This is a letter to inform you that the little Indian girl you chose to sponsor has died. Actually, she died in a rather humorous way.

We were handing out the Red Cross food from one of our trucks when she came for some food. One of the volunteers started teasing her lovingly by picking her up and hurling her through the air (she squealed with delight every time).

The last time he did this, however, she landed in front of a very large truck. It was the funniest thing to see her eyes bulge out of her head as the truck ran over her little body.

Well, don't you worry; there's plenty more where she came from, and I'm sure we will find you another or your money will be cheerfully refunded.

Thank you,

Willy Laff
Sure Help Ass.

I look back on these now and wonder what was wrong with my brain to come up with this kind of thing! L and B read them a couple years ago, during one of their times back together, and both of them laughed their asses off. B said "this explains a LOT!" whatever that means.

There's one more, my imagining of a letter from Adolph Hitler to Mao Tse Tung (that's how the news media spelled his name back then), but apparently I never typed it in. I'll look through my papers and see if I can find it; Mom said years ago that it was her favorite.

Weekend Update - The Rest of the Story

While complaining about B Saturday night because of the shit he was starting, L told me “I should have never quit the job I had here in town and moved back in with B full time. Why did you let me do that?! You should have stood up and told me it was stupid. You can’t always be worried about people being mad at you!”

This has been a complaint of L’s for some time; that I’m too passive because I don’t want anybody to be mad at me. To a degree I suppose she has a point; I do avoid confrontation and don’t really assert myself unless I’m sure I’m right. But really, I’ve long since stopped trying to tell L what to do because she never listens anyway. I wouldn’t mind her being mad at me if she’d take my advice seriously, but why bother if she’s just going to do what she wanted anyway? She doesn’t want my advice, for the most part; she just wants to hear her own opinion in my voice.

But on this she was dead wrong; I reminded her that I specifically told her it was a dumb idea to give up the job she had here, and that what little she and B were getting along at that time was mostly due to them not being in each other’s ass all day every day. B complained about her being here most days during the week, but even he had to see they got along better with distance between them than they had the previous two years. She agreed, remembering that I had, indeed, said just that, so that ended that line.

Sunday morning the wife got up and hit the bathroom first, then I went in to get my initial morning needs taken care of. When I got out L was in the living room, and hadn’t slept well because of the stress with B (and I found out later also with S to a smaller extent.) The wife asked me to pick up breakfast, and L said she wanted to go, so off we went.

On the way I told L what B had said the night before about putting her stuff out at 6 a.m. (meaning it wasn’t out all night like he’d been telling her). She had forgotten her phone so she didn’t know whether he’d sent her anything else. I told her I’d checked a local U-Haul’s schedule and that they would be open at 9. I’d rent a truck and we’d go get her stuff packed up, and take it to S’s house. It’s what she’d been planning to do the next week; we’d just do it a week earlier. She agreed, and was surprisingly calm (for the moment) and in a better mood than earlier. We also agreed that, despite her misgivings the day before, B had pretty much forced her hand and we’d have to get what stuff we could from the FiL’s little house that morning. We got home, I told the wife the plan, and L and I headed out to get started.

After we got that part done (it turned out to only be six or seven boxes of stuff, not counting furniture L said she’d have to get later on) and we went back by my house to wait until the U-Haul place opened. We were having a pretty good day, talking seriously about things but also making each other laugh with stupid jokes that only we get. Standing in the kitchen, working out plans and stories to tell B (and whoever else needed stories told to them), we also talked about us.

L said she was going to be a good girl, and not be screwing around anymore. I jokingly (well, half-jokingly) said “Okay, but should we maybe do it one last time? You know, just for old time’s sake?” She laughed and apologized and said she couldn’t, and if she did, it would only be out of guilt towards me, and not wanting to disappoint me. I said I understood, and that I didn’t want that under those conditions. I asked if that was what last week was; her giving in to not disappoint me. She immediately said “Oh, no, that was hot! I wanted that.” I smiled, and was relieved.

I took her in my arms and we hugged, and I was tempted to try kissing her but I didn’t. She asked “Okay, what are you going to do now?” I didn’t know what she was referring to, so I was at a loss for an answer. I wanted to say “Kiss you”, but that didn’t seem like a good answer considering what she’d just said. While I burned through some CPU cycles trying to come up with an answer, she said “I mean, do you need to go jack off now?”

“Sure,” I said. “You want to watch?” She said “No”, but she was following me back to the bedroom. I stripped and lay down on the bed, already hard, and started stroking myself. She watched for a moment before coming over and stroking me herself. I asked if she wanted to suck me, and she said no. She did show me her boobs though, and let me play with them and suck her nipples. But she steadfastly refused to do anything beyond playing with my balls while I continued jacking off. When I came, it was like a geyser; L was impressed by the volume and force. I cleaned up and rejoined her in the kitchen, and we went on with the morning as if nothing had happened. It didn’t feel like that would be the last time anything happens, but it’s likely the last time for a while.

Anyway, we went to get the truck but found out it was going to cost quite a bit more than I’d anticipated because of the mileage. Renting a trailer was cheaper, but my Pathfinder doesn’t have a towing package on it so we had to take it to where my wife works to change it out with our Trailblazer. By the time we got back and got the trailer rented and got back on the road, it was11:30. The wife and I were supposed to go to a big family picnic later that afternoon, but it was looking like there was no way we would make it.

On the way to B’s house, the two of them were texting back and forth. B said she didn’t need to rent anything because all she was getting was her clothes which he was setting out. She called him and started screaming at him to leave her stuff alone, but he hung up on her. I reminded her once again that B always does this; gives her a bunch of shit to push her buttons, to get the reaction from her, but he always winds up doing what she wants anyway even when he’s pissed. She was having none of it, and continued the text barrage with him.

Even with the agitation, though, she and I had a good conversation during the long drive, and continued to joke and laugh about things. She mentioned a few times that her stomach felt like it was in knots because of the pending confrontation with B, and I told her not to worry because we would get what we came for. Now I was maybe intentionally giving the false impression that I would somehow make him let us get her stuff, but the truth is I knew (as I’d already told her) that he was going to let her have her way eventually.

When we got there we saw a pile of bags and assorted boxes outside in the driveway, neatly stacked. L marched right in the door (with me close behind) and B said “Get the fuck out!” L screamed that she would not get out, and that she was getting the rest of her stuff. B said no, she wasn’t and said he’d call the cops. I was in the door at that point almost (but not quite) hoping he’d tell me to get out. I had a speech planned for him all about how his bullshit was costing me time and money I didn’t have and blah blah blah, but I never got to use it.

Long story short, we wound up getting everything we came for. B had threatened to keep the furniture L wanted until she paid back some money she owes his son (which she and the son had already worked out between them), but some more shrieking on her part was all it took to shut that down. At every step, when she started packing and loading from a different area, he yell at her to stop but she just kept going and he wouldn’t say another word about it. The one “fuck you” he did get in was to sit on his ass throughout the whole thing while I worked my ass off carrying all her shit. I can’t say I blame him, but for someone who wanted her out so bad, his helped would have made things go a lot quicker.

To be fair, the “fuck you” was to L and not me. If I’d asked for his help, he would have bitched and complained, but he would have helped me. Frankly, though, at that point I didn’t want his help. I knew L and I could get it done, and I wanted her leaving there with the last memory being that he pouted the whole time we did all the work.

Near the end, they’d stopped screaming and were actually somewhat civil. Not nice, mind you, but civil. He and I didn’t say anything to each other (what was there to say, really?) and though he never helped, he didn’t actively get in the way either. When we left, L said if I hadn’t been there he would have been a lot worse, and possibly willing to physically keep her from getting stuff. I don’t know if my presence made that much of a difference or not; like I said, B always winds up doing what L wants him to.

But I do know that there was no way he was going to lay a hand on her under any circumstances while I was there; if he had, he would have gotten hurt. My biggest fear was that L would attack him when we first got there because she was so pissed off, which would leave me trying to get her off him and protecting her from any retaliation but protecting myself from her and him at the same time. Fortunately, none of that happened.

We left and headed for S’s to drop off her things, which went much quicker with S’s help. Plus, we just left things in piles in different rooms, and they would sort it out later. L and I left to take the trailer back and so that she could get her car from my house. She was considerably calmer on the ride, and we held hands when she wasn’t texting with S and her girlfriend. I told her that it was fun to pretend that we were a couple sometimes, and she agreed.

She laughingly said our relationship reminds her of an episode of Friends, where one of the girls dated a guy who lived with his sister. It was obvious that something weirdly intimate was going on with the siblings, until the end (I guess) when the Friend character discovered the two of them were taking a bath together. “So are we just some fucked-up-in-the-head psychos or something?” she asked. She was laughing when she said it, but I could hear the underlying seriousness of the question.

“No, L, I don’t think so,” I said. “We have a weird relationship, and even if we never do anything again it won’t change that we have a connection that’s beyond normal. Other people might not see it that way, but we aren’t hurting anybody as long as they don’t know, and to be honest I like it.” After a moment of thought, L said “I do too.” We spoke a lot more about things, but that was, I guess, all that we really needed to say on that topic.

We dropped off the trailer then headed to the house so L could get her car. She had Verizon change her cell number because B started in on her again with the shitty texts, then we took the stuff in the Nissan and put it in the basement. She left, and the wife and I had some dinner.

Later that night she sent me a touching text, thanking me for all my help and for always being there for her. Then she started complaining about her things being spread out all over, and I advised her to just focus on getting enough together for work the next day and to take a break. We’d both had a long, hard day and she needed to rest. She said that was a good idea, and that’s exactly what she’d do.

I wish I could be confident that L and S will work out, but I’m not. I’ve already had to head off one near disaster this morning; L was almost hysterical, saying she couldn’t put up with his shit and wanted to move back. I called her on my way to work and listened to her scream about all his faults (no organization, no plans for the future, won’t help out by doing dishes, etc.) I tried to calm her my usual way, gently reminding her that it takes time and that she’s just panicking as usual, but she just kept on and on. She complained about not having her own place, and how it would be better staying with B because at least he acted like an adult.

I’d had enough and said “Yea, but you’re miserable with him and he’s abusive! For all S’s faults he hasn’t hit you, and you aren’t even giving him a chance! You want everything to be perfect right now, and it’s just not going to happen; yes, he has to be willing to make some compromises, but you do too! Meanwhile, you keep running back and forth and you aren’t getting anywhere, and you won’t until you stop long enough to get your feet under you!

“You say you love S and think you can be happy with him, and I believe that. But then at the first sign that he isn’t doing things exactly the way you want, you bolt back to B. Then you’re miserable but try to hang on there until you can’t stand it anymore. You go back to S expecting him to have somehow magically changed to what you want him to be, but how can he? You don’t stick around long enough to teach him what you need from him, and he’s not going to pick it up on his own. Give him a fucking chance!” Honestly, I did not want to think about having to pack all her shit again and move it somewhere else!

I make it sound like an elegant soliloquy, but the truth was my tirade was frequently interrupted by her outbursts, and it wasn’t near as smooth as I wrote it. But it’s my story, and I’m the hero, so I get the elegant soliloquy. It’s a pretty faithful rendering of the gist, at least.

By the end, she was agreeing with me and completing my sentences, as if she understood what I was trying to say. She said S was calling and she had to go, but she was considerably calmer. Later she told me that she and S had talked and come to some agreements; he was going to buy some items to help organize her things and he would start doing dishes. He has a long way to go, but it’s a start at least. I suggested that S and I needed to meet for dinner or a beer sometime and L thinks that’s a good idea.

Weekend Update

I apologize for the weekend update being late (did you miss it?) I was off yesterday, so technically my weekend wasn't over. But I still would have written the update except that the wife was off too. We had to drive to West Virginia to get her biometrics done for her green card extension. Six total hours driving, $57 in gas, $12 in toll booths, and both of us burning a vacation day, for 12 minutes of waiting and 7 minutes of actual fingerprinting and picture taking. A local police station could have done the exact same thing much more conveniently for us.

As for the rest of the weekend, Friday we stayed in and watched TV. We did our normal chores on Saturday while I waited to find out what L was going to do. She and B took her daughter to college and helped her move in, then B went to look in on a cousin who was in the hospital in a town near the college. L had talked about wanting to sneak over to the FiL's little house (he was out of town on a trip) and packing up her things in preparation next weekend for the final move from B to S, so the wife and I were ready to do that. Then L decided she didn't want to, because it felt disrespectful to the FiL, and wanted me to talk to him sometime this coming week and explain what L was going to do and why (but not that she was moving in with S.)

Really, if L had a decent paying job in the area and could afford it, she'd much rather move into her own place around here and just date S, I think. But her hands are kind of tied by circumstances (many of which she caused herself), and she really is determined to make it work this time. And I want her too; I know that when she's not panicking and bolting from him, she really is happier with S. At best she tolerates B, but is never really happy with him. Maybe long ago before all this shit started she was able to be content, but that's long gone.

Anyway, L came over and we took her to our favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner. She and I had a couple beers since the wife was going to be driving, and L decided she was going to stay the night with us rather than go home and face more yelling and screaming with a drunken B. She was worried that he'd be mad about it, but he's already told her a number of times that he can't wait for her to leave (though he didn't know her imminent plans) so it didn't seem like it would be a big deal.

We got home and L and I sat outside having a few more beers while I smoked a cigar. The wife had to run out for a bit and then the niece left, so it was just her and me. We were joking around about things in general when one of her girlfriends called. While talking to her, L started rubbing her leg against mine (we were sitting opposite each other in the lawn chairs, but close enough for contact.) I thought she was just distracted, but I took her foot in my hand and rubbed it and her calf until she was done talking.

We continued to talk and I let her foot go. A few minutes later she was using her toe to try to move my shorts leg around, saying "I can't see anything!" I laughed and pulled my shorts and underwear up and aside just enough to show the tip of my cock to her, and her eyes brightened. I told her I can't see anything either, and after a quick glance around she pulled hers aside to show me her pussy. I then showed her my now much bigger, harder cock, which again got an appreciative look.

B had already started in with his shit, saying he knew she wasn't with me and the wife, and that she was with S. He'd done that last weekend, when she really was with S (saying she was with us.) But he wasn't saying it like he really thought she was; he was just trying to stir up shit. Even after I sent him a text saying she was with me, and even sending him a time-stamped picture of her petting our girl dog, he kept up his shit with her.

Talking to me, L said (as if she were talking to him) "No, B, the only man around her I could sleep with would be my brother, and I'm not doing that!" We both chuckled then she added "Unless we can get [the wife] out of here." I reminded her that the wife would be working the next day, and the niece is leaving tonight and won't be back until late tomorrow, and we both made the "interesting" face. "Oh," she said. "Well, we'll see what happens then!"

While we continued to talk about a lot of things, including last Monday and how much fun that had been, B kept on and on with his texts. L started getting really pissed, then B sent me a reply to saying that L was indeed with us. He said he was going to have L legally evicted on Monday, then she'd have 30 days to move out. I figured since L was planning to move the next week anyway that wasn't a big deal, and was most likely a bluff anyway, but L got pissed. She doesn't like being forced to do something, even if it works into the plans she had all along anyway. Or maybe it's more about the intensity of her feelings for B and how much she can hate him, and she doesn't want to allow him to get the upper hand. Either way, she started going off on him (via text.)

She told me I needed to step up like a big brother and "get stern with him." What the fuck I'm supposed to be able to do 90 minutes away via text I don't know, but what the hell, I let myself get involved. I acted angry with B (and after a while it wasn't really an act) and tried to make him see reason. I said (L directed much of it) that she would be leaving once she got her shit together here locally, and he should just chill until she was ready to go. She was also sending him texts, of the "You aren't going to tell me what to do" variety, until finally he told her he was "slinging" her shit outside right then.

L started really getting agitated about that; the thought of her own possessions being outside was bad enough, but her biggest concern is a bunch of mementos from her daughter growing up, and she was imagining that being strewn about out in the yard. She was close to jumping in her car and going there, but I was able to calm her down. I pointed out that he most likely wasn't throwing anything out, because that would be a lot of work for someone already as drunk as he was (which turned out to be true.) They continued bitching back and forth, and I was still trying to be the voice of reason for both of them. We went inside and I made us all some drinks while we watched TV.

We were all tired, and the wife had to work the next morning, so we all headed to bed. While the wife was in the bathroom, I asked L if she needed anything. She said she was fine, and nonchalantly lifted her t-shirt to show me her boobs while we continued talking for the wife's benefit. If I'd been close enough I would have grabbed them, but I wasn't.

The wife finished up, then L, then me. When I came out, L was already in her room and the wife was in our room. L called me into the room and showed me the last text B had sent, saying he was putting all her stuff outside. She said I had to talk to him, so I tried calling. He kicked me to voice mail so I texted again, saying leave her stuff alone, and that he was acting childish. He sent back that I wasn't helping any, and that he was putting it all out at 6 the next morning. That confirmed that he hadn't put anything else out, but by the time I got that information L was already asleep.

I considered going into her room and telling her that, but didn't want to wake her (and was frankly half-excited and half-worried what I'd do sitting beside her on her bed while the wife was asleep in the next room.) Instead, I made a plan that I would tell L about the next morning, and slept fitfully myself.

I'll finish this up later, explaining what happened the next day (Sunday.)

Aftermath

The sex with L was, as always, fantastic. Everything about it, the teasing and buildup, the foreplay (mental and physical), the act and the release, are all simply the best I’ve ever had. I’m sure a good bit of that comes from the taboo nature, the naughtiness, of the relationship, but a lot of it is simply skill and enthusiasm on L’s part. Being inside her again was like realizing the Novocain has worn off and your face feels normal again. Or like breathing fresh air after being cooped up in a stuffy room all night.

That’s not really conveying well how it felt, I guess. Like they say: finding the perfect analogy is like… it’s like… Damn it!

But more than the sex, as great as it was, is what it represents. In fact, the entirety of Sunday and Monday together just put me back in a better place emotionally about our relationship. It was nice to have her compliment me on my dick, and my skills. Knowing she really does think of me that way, despite the air of indifference towards it all that she displayed in the past year or so, made me feel better. Just the acknowledgement of what we had, and the confirmation that it meant something more to her than she was seemingly willing to admit before, has eased the knot of frustration I’ve felt about it for the past year or so.

But even if the sex play, and later sex, had not happened at all, just the return to openness and honesty with each other would have made me feel better than I have in a while. Her willingness to share not just her problems with B but also her hopes and plans and details about her and S brings us closer to the place we were for the first year we knew each other. And I assure you, I missed that more than anything else (though the sex comes a close second.) It still stings a little when she talks about the sex they have, but I can live handle it better now.

I also know that, the weekend notwithstanding, this doesn’t mean we’re back “on” in the sense we used to mean it. It feels different in that I don’t think I’ll obsessively be looking for every opportunity for us to have a few minutes alone to make out, and stressing out about how to arrange for us to have some real time alone to have sex. I understand L and her moods a little better now, and I know that if she’s not interested in having sex with me, it’s not that I’ve done something wrong or failed to measure up in some way.

It’s no longer a sexual relationship that we’re in, and in fact maybe that was my problem all along, thinking that we were and defining it in my mind that way. Our relationship is about being close, and sharing details of our lives, and laughing and crying together. On the rare occasion, when the timing is right and circumstances all come together the right way, maybe we’ll have sex; and if we do it’ll be mind-blowing! If we don’t, I may be disappointed at the lost opportunity, but I don’t think I’ll see it as the tragedy that I once did.

And I don’t for a minute believe that now we’re completely fixed and will never have problems between us again. I’m sure we’ll disagree, and even fight, about things. Chances are better than even that something will happen, like her canceling plans for all of us to get together at the last minute, that will make me feel slighted and mope about it. But maybe now it will be a little easier for us both to deal with things, knowing we’ve got each other’s backs.

All About Monday

Monday morning, L let me know when she was on the road, then when she’d left S’s house, where she dropped off some things from B’s house. (S was at work at the time.) She told me she wanted to take care of some financial things for her daughter’s college tuition and apply for a few jobs she knew about, so would need my computer. We she arrived, we sat on the couch together and I helped her through the websites. (I have a Mac, which is just different enough that L had a little harder time using it than she would have her own computer.)

During that time we talked, of course, and she mentioned that her lower back hurt (another bruise from B, apparently), so I massaged it lightly while she worked. She had to talk to her daughter, then to B, and to various administrative people at the college and the bank where they got the college loan from. She finally got all that settled, then I helped her apply for a job online. She didn’t know how to get her current resume from one job site to the one she was applying through (the employment commission’s site), so I had to help with that.

When that was done, she went to the bathroom to pee while we were talking. I stood by the door watching her (which she knew, having left the door open for me) but she seemingly ignored my pointed look at her crotch area as she zipped up. Back in the living room, she said she was going to look up a few more jobs, and I said “Okay. I’m going to the bedroom to… do something.” I said with a kind of half-leer. She laughed and said “what are you going to do?” I called over my shoulder “You want to watch?” and she said “No!” but she was laughing.

I really was horny, being so worked up from the events the day before. I left the door open while I got undressed and lay on the bed. I figured if she really did want to watch, she could come stand at the door. I had just started, and gotten pretty aroused, when I realized that if she didn’t come back I might want some porn to help me along. I’d left my phone in the living room with her, so I thought I’d put my shorts on and run in there real quick to get it. Then it occurred to me, why would I do that?

I walked into the living room naked, my cock bouncing up and down with my foot steps, and said “don’t mind me, I just need my phone.” She looked up and her eyes went wide, and she yelled “Rob! What are you doing?!” I laughed and went back to the bedroom, and called out again “are you sure you don’t want to watch?” She again said “No!” but she was still laughing. Even knowing she was in the next room, and could walk in to watch, made me a lot more excited than normal, and I didn’t really need the porn. I finished up, unwatched, and cleaned up and went back into the living room.

We were going to go by the FiL’s so she could talk to him, explain what was going on (but leaving out the further involvement with S). After we talked about it for a bit, she decided not to, so we went to lunch and then to pick up some things I needed to make dinner that night. We got back to the house and talked a bit more, then L said she was going to get her clothes for the interview from the car. Now I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered what might happen when she changed clothes, so I was getting excited again about the possibilities.

L came back in with her clothes and make-up case and sat the clothes in the spare room. I followed her to the bathroom and we continued talking while she put on her make-up. I asked if she was nervous, and she said she wasn't too much, not really. I said "I could give you a tongue lashing to calm your nerves." She laughed and said no, but did cock her head a bit like she was thinking about it.

When she finished in the bathroom, she walked into the spare room, with me following. We were still talking when she took her shirt off, and saw me staring at her bra-covered boobs. "What are you looking at?" she asked, playfully, and making no move to cover up.

"What do you think I'm looking at?" I asked, laughing. "You've got great tits." She looked down and said "<The wife's> are bigger! Why do you like mine?" Instead of going into how L's are perkier, and firmer, I just said "I like your nipples." "Well," she said, "I guess you want to see them, huh?" She lifted up her bra and stepped closer. I reached up to touch, and she turned them toward my hand. I massaged both tits and pulled on the nipples, then she stepped back and pulled her bra back down.

She put her interview shirt on, then pulled her shorts off. I was admiring her ass, but she quickly stepped into her slacks, smoothing them down. "Do these look okay?" she asked me. "Hm, I don't know," I said. "Take them back off so I can compare." She laughed and walked past me, heading into the living room. She reached down and brushed her hand against my crotch as she, and I was already hard.

"God damned," I said. "I'm going to have to jack off again." I was serious. She asked "Are you really?" "Yea, you want to watch?" "Okay, make it quick."

We walked back to my bedroom, both of us giggling. I kicked off my shoes and stripped naked quickly while she stood at the door. I sat on the bed and said "How do you want to see it?" L laughed and said "This is your show; you choose." I lay back on the bed and started stroking, slowly.

"You want to touch him?" I asked. "No," she answered, stepping up to the bed and taking me in her hand, stroking me. "That's nice," I whispered. L stopped stroking me and stood back a step and said "I'm going to show you my tits." She pulled her shirt and bra up, then said "I'm going to take of my bra. And my shirt." I nodded, as that made more sense anyway. "Can I touch them?" I asked. "Yes," and she stepped back to the bed, leaning towards me so I could reach. I was stroking myself with my right hand and groping her with my left, then I raised up and asked "Can I suck them?" "No," she answered, moving closer so I could reach her nipple. "But you're going to anyway, right?" she said.

She reached down and started stroking me again. I lay back down and watched her looking at my cock, knowing she couldn't resist sucking it. Sure enough, she looked at me, chuckled a little, then leaned down and took me full in her mouth. She bobbed her head slow, but her tongue was working such that it felt like she was going much faster. L sucks with a gentle enthusiasm that's just the right amount of pressure, without being painful. I moaned as I squeezed her ass and rubbed her crotch over her pants, and after about 30 seconds she stopped and stepped away.

"We can't do this," she said, laughing but also almost serious. "But you want to," I said. "Yes," she answered. "But we can't." She kept watching me as I stroked. "Hurry up," she said. "It would go faster if you suck me." "I don't want to. Hurry up." "It would go quicker if you fucked me." "We can't." "But you want to," I repeated. "Yes, I do. But we can't. What if there are hidden cameras?" She stepped back to the bed and I reached out to caress her tits again. I could see the desire in her eyes as she looked at me and my cock.

"If there were hidden cameras, they'd be mine! Suck me," I said. "I don't want to suck you," she answered. "Liar. Fuck me then." "We can't! Yes, I want to, but we can't." I took another couple of strokes, playing with her tits. "You can rub him on me!" she said, excitedly. "Okay," I agreed readily. "See, we found a good compromise," L laughed, stripping her clothes as quickly as I had. I got off the bed and she lay down on her back, pulling her legs up and apart. I knelt between her legs, marveling at her  beneath me. I've said before, L has the prettiest pussy I've ever seen.

I started rubbing the head of my cock along her lips, spreading our moisture, then against her clit. She cooed and squirmed beneath me, making me even harder. I stuck a finger, then two, in her pussy and she groaned her appreciation. I was still rubbing the head up and down on her clit, and on one stroke up  it "accidentally" entered just a bit into her hole. Her eyes went wide and I said "I'm sorry." "It's okay," she said. "I know you want to." "It's okay?" "It's okay," she nodded.

I positioned my cock at her entranced then pushed gently but firmly in. She let out a long, loud moan as I buried myself fully in her. I gasped at finally feeling myself in her, her wrapped around me, again. I pulled out, then rammed home again. I grabbed her legs and pulled her to me so I could go even deeper. Within a very short time I had to stop, though; I was too close to coming. She understood immediately and said "Not yet, don't come yet!" I rubbed my dick head against her clit while I calmed down, and stuck my fingers in her again. When I felt under control again, I pushed back into her, and she started lightly bucking against me.

It was still almost too good, so I pushed all the way in, as deep as I could get, and stayed that way. She was furiously rubbing her clit, squirming around, and her pussy started clenching around me. "Move it a little," she said. I started pumping shallow strokes in and out, and L started shaking and moaning. Her pussy clenched faster, then I was too far gone. "I'm sorry, I'm going to come," I said. "Yes, come for me! Come for me!" she groaned. Before I could ask if she wanted me to come in or on her, it was too late. I slammed into her, shooting deep in her while she shook and clenched through her orgasm.

She grabbed my shoulders and pulled me down into her arms, kissing me passionately. Then she pushed me off, and laughing said "You asshole! Now I'm going to smell like sex for my interview, and you know B will smell this on me!" I followed her into the bathroom, grinning like a loon. "Sorry," I said. "I could have come on you, but that would have been a mess!" "That would have been easier to clean up though," she said. "Now I got to try to push this out!" She wasn't really mad, though.

She finished in the bathroom and we went back into the bedroom to get dressed. We embraced and kissed, and I swear I could have gone again if we'd had another 15 minutes or so. "I always come with you," she said, a look of almost awe on her face. "That's the one thing about S; after all this time I still haven't with him, no matter what we do." "What, even with assistance you can't?" "No," she said. "It's good, and I like it, but I don't come. I never really with B either, unless he was going down on me. But with you, it's like every time!"

We talked about that as we got dressed, and I said I'm glad she enjoys it with me, but I really hope that she can learn to enjoy it with S too. And the thing is, I really meant it.

She cleaned up, reset her hair, touched up her make-up and gathered her things. She didn't want to be late for her appointment, so we walked out to her car. I would have liked to have had one last embrace and kiss, but I knew she wouldn't want that. She was getting her mind geared up for something else and didn't want the distraction.

We hugged chastely, as brothers and sisters do, and said "Love you." She called later to say the interview went well.

All About Sunday

In Monday’s weekend update, I didn’t have time that morning to go into details about Sunday, and I wasn’t sure at the time how much detail was really necessary. Things were left kind of hanging Sunday, and I wasn’t sure what Monday would bring.

I was disappointed Saturday because L had planned to come up for my birthday, but bailed at the last minute. I wasn’t surprised; I knew she was going to be with S, the boyfriend, for most of the day, and I honestly expected the text that I eventually got saying she wasn’t going to be able to make it. She did ask for the wife and I to cover for her and say she was with us, in case anyone asked. That made the wife mad, because although she now understands (like I do) that B and L just can’t make it together, and that it’s becoming dangerous, she doesn’t like feeling like L is using us. I kind of agreed with her but, you know, fuck it, right?

Sunday morning L got into town and first went by the ex FiL to take him shopping, then got to the house around noon. The wife and the ex FiL were going to the season ticket holder picnic, and we were going to follow later to catch the game from the suite the wife won. The wife left, and the niece was home but in her room, so L and I got to talk alone(ish) for the first time in a long while. We had to be quiet, of course, but we did talk.

It started with her talking about how happy she is to know she’s leaving B for good this time (insert eye roll here), then on to how sore she was because of all the sex she and S had the day before, and though it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to, I still jokingly said “TMI!” She laughed, but I could also tell that she was a little hurt because she said she needed to have someone to talk to. I admitted that it didn’t really bother me that much, and that I only said it because she’d hurt my feelings some months ago when she snapped at me for asking for details about something else. She apologized and said it’s just her changing moods. It kind of cleared the air, and set the tone for the rest of the conversation.

We talked about her and S, and how she’s planning to try harder to get past her hang-ups (which we also talked about), and I gave some brotherly advice on how she and he both can work on things together. I said it wasn’t about one or the other changing, but about meeting each other half-way and communicating. She agreed, but also stressed that she has tried, but S has (she says) ADHD and that makes it more difficult. But she “loves” him and wants to make things work. Honestly, I want things to work as well; I don’t like her being with B anymore, and for all his faults, S has never head-butted L and left her with a bloody nose or given her a black eye (another tidbit I learned Sunday.)

L asked how the night before had gone, when the wife and I went to meet A and her boyfriend. I showed L a picture of A’s bf, and L said that I’m much better looking. I agreed (jokingly) but said he seems nice enough and I hope he treats A well. She knows I’ve had a crush on A, and asked if I was jealous. I told her honestly that I wasn’t, and that I was over that with A. She’s a friend, but I think she made it pretty clear that there could be nothing between us because of the wife.

L then asked if I had anyone else on the side, and though I tried to laugh it off I started blushing. She said “I saw the email account, so I know there’s something going on. Tell me!” So I admitted that I had a lady friend, and that we’d gotten together a few times. L was hurt that I hadn’t told her before then, and I explained it was because this was the first face-to-face conversation we’ve had alone in a long time. She agreed that she wouldn’t have wanted to find out via text, and was mollified by that explanation.

She asked if I had any pictures, and I answered (truthfully) yes, but that I couldn’t show them because I’d promised.  But I said I’d show her some I took to send (not telling her that some were for a guy) and she agreed, saying she really just wanted to see my dick anyway. If the niece hadn’t been home, I would have “jokingly” suggested that she could see it live. Instead, I pulled up a couple pictures, including the one I use on the blog here, and she said “Damn! I’d forgotten how nice that is!”

We talked a little more, until the niece came out and said she was going to head out and meet us at the park later. I ran downstairs to the basement for something, and when I got back up L called out that she was in the bathroom. I saw the door was open, and knew that was an invitation to stand by and watch. I don’t get anything out of watching a girl pee, but the point of this is that I can see her with her pants down, and is one of the things we’d tease each other with when we were alone together. She'd watch me pee just to see my dick.We talked until she was done, and had cleaned up, and she stood and turned towards me, pulling her pants up. She laughed like she was embarrassed and said “Stop looking at me!” But I knew she didn’t mean it, because she was taking her time getting everything pulled up. I smiled and said “You know I always like to look.” She laughed, and said “My pussy is all puffy, and I smell like sex!” She walked into the spare room and found a bottle of body spray the wife keeps there, and undid her pants to spray around the area. Honestly, I didn’t notice any “wrong” odors, but maybe she just wanted an excuse to pull her pants down for me again.

She saw me pointedly staring at her crotch as she closed her pants. “Maybe your pussy needs a massage,” I suggested, laughing. She said “Ha ha. But do you want to look at it?” At this point we were both being playful but dead serious, if you know what I mean. I nodded, and she pulled her pants and panties down and lay back on the bed, drawing her knees up. I stepped forward and she said “No touching!” I knew she meant it this time, so I just got closer, keeping my hands to myself, and looked. She asked if the lips looked swollen, and I said no. But honestly, my head was swimming at this point and I was only half following the conversation.

She stood up, putting herself back together, and I said “Do you want to see my cock?” She said “No, well okay, just for a minute.” I unzipped and pulled my dick out, which was already hard and getting harder. She stepped closer and reach out and took me in hand, giving me a few tugs. She stopped and said “Now put it away!” I looked down at how big it was and said “I don’t think I can right now.”

She said “I’ll flick it on the head and make it go down!” She sounded like she was just joking, but with L you never know. I said “You can flick it with your tongue.” She looked in my eyes with a look I know all too well. “Go ahead,” I said, hoarsely.

“I shouldn’t,” she said. But she bent down and took me in her mouth, causing me to groan loudly. She sucked me deeply for ten seconds, at most, which was almost enough to make me cum, then stood up and said “That’s enough. We’re going to hell if there is one, you know.”

I said I might have to jack off to get my cock back in my pants, and she rolled her eyes and said “Go ahead, but make it quick.” I asked if she wanted to watch, and she hesitated just a second before saying “should I?” I knew that meant she really wanted to, but didn’t want to take responsibility for it. But something happened, and the moment passed. I laughed and said “Maybe later,” and stuffed myself back in my pants. It hurt, literally and figuratively, to put it away without relief, but I was very happy.

To wind it up, we went to the game and enjoyed the suite for about five innings. It was a double header because of the previous night’s game being rained out, so when we left the wife stayed to watch the rest. She was happy that we'd stayed as long as we did, but I think she was glad we left too, so that she could concentrate on the game.We took the FiL home, and headed back over to the house. I knew nothing more physically would happen; it was something that had its moment earlier, but now we were in a different place. Plus, the niece was going to be home in a few minutes, so…

We sat outside for an hour or so, continuing our conversation from earlier. For the first time in a while, we were both able to make references to each other when comparing our respective on-going sex lives, and it came as easy and natural as it ever did. I even remarked that it felt good to be able to talk about what we’d had, and to know that it was something she’d enjoyed and appreciated. She agreed, and all was right with the world. Then it was time for her to be heading home, so we made sure she had everything and I walked her to her car. We hugged chastely, as brothers and sisters should, and she drove off.

Before she left, we made plans for her to come by in the morning. She had a job interview Monday afternoon, but wanted to leave the house at her normal work time so she didn’t have to tell B about it. She knew that would cause more drama if he knew she was looking for work back here. He’s said in the past week that he wants her out as soon as her daughter has moved out to go to college, but she is still worried (and rightly so, I think) that bringing it up openly would just start more fighting.

The wife and the niece would both be at work, and I already had the day scheduled off. And because of the circumstances, the wife knew that L would be coming over and was okay with it. I didn’t know what would happen, but no matter what I was definitely looking forward to it!

Weekend Update

My weekend isn't officially over yet, as I have today (Monday) off. But the wife is working (yay!) and I'll be busy most of the day, so it's just as well to say the weekend is past.

Friday night the wife and I went to bed fairly early, before 11, just because we were both tired. Once in bed, however, she snuck under the covers and gave me a wonderful blow job that she'd intended to take to completion. Normally I would have been more than glad to let her, but I wanted more than that; I pulled her up and twisted to that I could lick her for a few minutes, and when she was ready I entered her.

As worked up as her mouth got me, I honestly thought it would be over really quickly. However, I found my pace and rhythm and was able to stay with it, making the feelings last. There was a lot of kissing and caressing, and even some laughing. The niece was out and we didn't have to be quiet, so we took advantage. We're not screamers or yellers, but we do like to communicate while we're fucking.

I rolled her over and entered her from behind, one of our favorite positions. The way we cradle together that way is just so comfortable, especially if I put a small pillow under her pelvis, raising her ass up for me. I can lay fully upon her, or kneel behind, and really reach some depths. The angle makes it easier for her to take my full length without bumping as much into her cervix. I quickly reached my breaking point, and pulled out and came on her ass and back. I grabbed a towel and cleaned her up (it was a big load!), then she rolled over and I got her favorite vibrator and we played until she reached her orgasm. The niece got home just as we finished, but we were soon blissfully asleep.

Saturday was my birthday, so after our normal chores were done (and the wife had given me a few small gifts), we went to an early dinner with my parents. We all wound up ordering the steak, and for the first time in a long time mine was actually grilled to the medium rare I ordered. In fact, all the steaks came out well, which is a pretty big accomplishment. We had a good time with my parents, and we got home in time for the wife to go to a game and for me to have a cigar.

The wife said she'd come home early, because we had plans to meet some friends out for a few drinks. In fact, we were seeing A (the girl I used to work with and had a crush on) and meeting her boyfriend for the first time. A few other people were there, and we wound up having a pretty decent time. I was kind of let down because L had talked about coming down to stay with us Saturday and going out with us, but she called later to say she couldn't make it. Still, it was a nice evening with some friends so I can't complain.

We were in bed early again, but we both were just too tired for any play and fell right to sleep.

Sunday we used the suite at the ball park that the wife won earlier in the year, and L and L's ex FiL were there. Some other people were supposed to come as it was going to kind of be a birthday party for me, but they all wound up not making it for various reasons. Such is how it goes when I try to host any kind of party; I get vague "maybes" and then the day of everyone has some excuse not to come. It's starting to give me a complex!

I'll write more about Sunday in detail later.

Friday Coda

After a full week of making an effort to remain calm and patient with people, I have to say I’m surprised, and kind of proud, of my progress. I’ve had a few setbacks, almost all coming from dealing with the medical laboratory I wrote about earlier in the week, but for the most part I’ve maintained my composure, at least outwardly.

I still get irritated with people, especially drivers, but I notice that even that isn’t as severe. It’s like by not allowing myself to display the anger, I actually don’t feel it as intensely. I don’t know if I’m getting any true benefit from it, but I have noticed I don’t feel as drained by the time I get home, nor do I feel as ready to snap at the wife.

Speaking of the wife, I hadn’t told her what I was doing, but she sure noticed. She mentioned it Tuesday when we went to visit L’s ex father-in-law that I seemed quieter than usual. After asking me what’s wrong, I explained how I was trying to be more patient about the stupid things people do, and why.

She jokingly said “Oh, great, now you’ll bottle it all up and take it all out on me!” I chuckled and said “No, I included you, baby.” She knew I was just teasing, which is why it only took 15 minutes for the feeling to come back into my arm.

Be safe, everyone, and have a good weekend!

Flash Fiction Friday - Who's Watching Who? - 8/16

Word Length = 200
Required Word = Obligation
Forbidden Words = Payment, Prediliction, Prostitution
Extra Credit = Make it personal
Bonus Words = 25 extra for explaining the tuxedos, 25 more if this isn't about the money

“Alex?” April moaned. “Are you watching Seth fuck me?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, looking downcast. He couldn’t hide his obvious erection, even in the tuxedo.

“Oh, god, he feels so good,” she sighed, grinding against Seth. His tuxedo pants were unzipped as she rode him. “Have you ever seen a cock as big as Seth’s, Alex?” she teased.

Alex flushed, embarrassed but excited at the humiliation of being reminded how much smaller he was.

Seth hadn’t spoken since they’d arrived, but now he said “We only have 15 minutes, love.”

“Oh, god, I’m coming,” April mewled, grinding faster. Seth’s breathing quickened as he started humping against her. He groaned loudly as he came, and April stiffened and shivered through her orgasm.

She rose off his cock and leered at Alex. “You’d better come clean this up,” she said. “We don’t want to leave Seth with a big, sticky wet spot, do we?”

Alex moved to them and kneeled between them, pushing forward and licking the generous amount of cum from April’s pussy. It was distasteful to him, but he knew his obligation. When he’d gotten all he could, April said “Now do Seth.” He didn’t want to appear too eager, but he gladly licked and sucked until Seth’s cock and balls were free of all remnants of their passion.

Seth stood and zipped up. “That was fantastic!” He kissed April lightly on the lips, suddenly uncomfortably aware of Alex’s eyes on him.

“Yes, April,” Alex agreed, sincerely. “That was spectacular! How much do we owe?”

“You know when it comes to you sweeties I don’t do this for the money,” she smiled. “I enjoy it as much as you do.”

Seth smiled at Alex, happy to know that he wasn’t in trouble. “We’d better go, love, or we’ll miss the show.”

=======

Three hundred words exactly. I think I did enough to explain the tuxedos and the "not for the money" requirements to earn the 2 25-word bonuses, plus Advizor54 awarded me 50 extra words for the real-life stripper stories I included in last weeks FFF. That was such a cool thing for him to do, and I couldn't let them go to waste! But, I didn't know how to make the story personal; I've never been close to having a 3-way, though I dearly want to.

I hope this doesn't sound to immodest, but I'm pretty proud of this story. I like the  sex, the dialog, and the little twist at the end. I hope you enjoyed it. Now get over to Advizor's site and read the really good entries.

Passions

I’ve just finished reading the first two books of the Kingkiller Chronicles, and am saddened by the fact that the third book won’t be coming out until sometime in 2014. So, desperate for something to read, I picked up a back copy of Reader’s Digest (don’t’ judge me!) I can usually cover-to-cover it in an hour or less because it’s 40% ads and 20% trite pap. The remaining 40% is also pap, but at least it’s not trite pap. I mostly just read it for the jokes and the centerfold.

I breezed through the May 2013 issue pretty quickly, but near the end there was a section on marriages. One of the sidebars was five questions a married couple could ask each other to see how much they know about each other. Most of them were fairly easy for me (after 24 years together, I’d hope so) but one took me off guard: Name five things that your spouse is passionate about (outside of your marriage and children) and that he/she could not do without.

The only obvious answer I could have about the wife is baseball, and if there is anything else I certainly don’t know about it. That’s not what surprised me, though; what surprised me is that I can’t think of five things that I’M that passionate about.

The only two that come to mind right now are reading and writing, both of which I love to do. But could I live without them? Maybe not reading, but as much as I enjoy writing for now, it could well be a passing fancy just like the other hobbies I’ve started and sputtered on. Golfing, bowling, playing guitar; I’ve been passionate about those and other things in the past, only to lose interest after a time. I still pick up the guitar now and then, but not for long. Writing, whether it’s this blog, short stories, songs, etc, is fun and important to me now, but historically I know that can fall away as easily as the other things. (I get passionate about people as well, but I don’t think that’s what the question is pointing to. Plus, no way I’d want to explain that to the wife.)

But am I unusual? Outside of your marriage and kids (if applicable), are there five things you feel that passionately about that you either couldn’t or wouldn’t want to do without them for any length of time? Are you like me; can you discard former interests easily, without much (if any) anxiety?

The Next Mr. Rogers

On a whim this past Friday evening, I decided to see if I could make it all the way home without succumbing to road rage. It may not seem like a big feat to some of you, but I was proud of not once in the 30 minute drive shaking my fist and/or screaming at the numerous idiots (especially truck drivers!) that litter the busy interstate I use to get home. I arrived in a calmer and far less stressed than usual.

Saturday, and even into Sunday I continued, not only controlling my anger when driving but also when walking through Wal-Mart and Kroger, and even when dealing with other people, including the wife. I reminded myself that the worst thing to come of most transgression was minor inconvenience to me. Moreover, my shouting and screaming and hard glares don’t accomplish anything; the only behavior I change is my own, and never for the better.

Surprisingly, I went the whole weekend without letting the little things get to me. I didn’t raise my voice in anger or give myself a headache. I did feel a little flat, to be honest; I’m so used to the flares of anger punctuating my days that it just felt a little weird to not have them.

I will certainly fail from time to time in my resolve to control my anger; I am still me, after all. But I will strive to remain more patient and not let my emotions be dictated by the actions of others, no matter how annoyed I get. It is certainly less frustrating this way, if nothing else.

I did get angry with a phone representative earliertoday. Well, I wasn’t angry at her, of course, but at the company she represents. The medical lab that analyzed my blood work from my last physical had sent a bill for the remainder of what I owed on the bill (less what insurance paid.) I paid it through my Health Savings Account (HSA), and somehow despite the lab cashing my check, they didn’t get it posted to my account. Now they’ve sent my account to collections, and they’re making it my responsibility to chase down the proof that the payment was made. There’s all kinds of wrong with this scenario, but I won’t get into it right now; otherwise I’ll just get pissed off and raging again and I really don’t need that.

The good news is, though I was pissed and annoyed, I remained calm if strained throughout the conversation. I didn’t completely refrain from making snide comments (I just said I’m still me), but I kept it under control for the most part. Honestly, I think Gandhi would have been challenged to maintain much more calm than I did under the circumstances.

Keeping it Simple

It's not as much fun without a bed, but it was still very hot and satisfying to meet up with Simplicity last night! We had a quick dinner, then headed over to my old office (with my former partner's blessing) and finally had some time to ourselves.

It was hot and sweaty despite the air conditioning, and after it was over we both stayed naked for a while to allow ourselves to cool off. I was concerned that I would smell like sex when I got home, so before I got there I stopped to get gas (I was running on fumes anyway, so it was necessary). I dripped just enough gas on my hands to make that the most obvious smell about me, and when I got home the wife shooed me into the shower. I love it when a plan comes together!

Freshly showered, the wife and I went to bed. I was relaxed and sated, and fell to sleep easily.

Weekend Update

It had been a nice, if low-key, weekend until last night. Out of the blue, L sent a picture of herself with a bloody nose, saying B had head-butted her and pushed her around. Because of the distance there wasn't much I could do, but I did ask if she wanted us to come pick her up. She said no, of course, because she has to get to work the next day. 

This isn't the first time B has gotten physical with her; he left a bruise on her eye a few months ago and there have been other little things. I feel like I'm not doing my duty as a brother because I haven't beaten his ass over it, but there's always mitigating circumstances. Every time L has told me about one of these "B pushed me, kneed me, grabbed me, etc" episodes, a day or two later she'll admit that she had hit, kicked, or thrown something at him first, and the contact he made with her was reaction. 

Like the time she tried to kick him in the balls, when he turned and raised his leg to block her, his knee hit her in the stomach. When L sent me the picture of the bruise, she just said that B had kneed her in the stomach. It wasn't until days later that she admitted, off-hand, what had really happened.

I was brought up that you don't hit a girl, ever, and a man who does isn't a man. But as I've said before, L can be vicious when she's mad, and I can't really blame B entirely for protecting himself from her attacks. She said last night that "this time" she didn't touch him, and that he was drunk and mad and this all started over... blah blah blah. Maybe, maybe not. 

But it doesn't really matter what happened, this relationship has gotten too dangerous for the both of them. She needs to get out of there before something worse happens.

I just wish I didn't feel so god-damned impotent to help!

Clarification, and Filling Gaps

I may have inadvertently given the wrong impression when I ended the “What the L” series that I would no longer be writing about L. Ha ha ha ha! No, nothing could be further from the truth; I’ll continue to write about her, and sometimes filling in gaps I left. L is still very much a part of our lives, and is the cause focus of a good bit of my depression.

L is kind, sweet, and generous. She and I are very alike in many ways; we have the same odd, even twisted, sense of humor, and even the same character traits. We both can only take so much before we blow up (she’s quicker to that point than I am), but once we blow up we’re ready to put it behind us and move on. Unlike the wife, who will pout and stay sullen for hours, even days, if we get into an argument about something.

One way in which L and I are very different, though, is that she will become vicious when she fights. She knows my insecurities, and when she’s mad enough she has no qualms against throwing them back in my face. She’s made snide comments about my work, monetary situation, and weight. She often says I’m “too damned liberal” and questioned my sexuality because I support marriage equality. The words themselves generally didn’t hurt, or at least not a great deal, but the fact that she wanted to hurt me really did. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but that’s the way it is.

But even with all of that, her having the desire to hurt me at least proved to me that I could still touch her. I don’t want to anger her, but she wouldn’t be angry with me and lash out with me if I wasn’t important to her. That sounds kind of fucked up, and I’m probably not explaining myself correctly, but it at least let me know I still had a place in her life, even if it was the wrong place at that moment.

In the spring of last year, things started changing. Earlier in the year, she and B had seemingly worked things out, so she gave up her apartment (which I told her was a bad idea) and moved back in with him. A few months later, she decided she just couldn’t make it work with him, and couldn’t get over her “love” for S, so broke it off again with B (amidst a bunch of drama that I was smack in the middle of) and moved in with S. Inside of two weeks she decided she couldn’t live with S and begged B to let her come back. Surprisingly, B agreed.

This kicked off a pattern over the next few months, and even into the summer, where L moved back and forth between them. It was dumbfounding how both B and S would allow it to happen again and again, but it was kind of fascinating in a perverse way. She’d call me, crying, saying she needed to get away from S; he was too needy, too clingy, too psycho. I (and sometimes the wife) would run down to S (he lived between our city and where B lives), pack all her shit that he’d thrown out into the driveway into our van, then bring her home with us for a few days. Then she’d start begging B to take her back, get upset that he’d initially refuse, and then be happy when he finally relented.

Within a week or so she’d start posting maudlin Facebook pictures about being with the wrong person, how to know if someone truly loves you, etc., and I knew she was on her way back to S soon. Sure enough, off she’d go again. Rinse and repeat. Apparently there were a few that I didn’t even know about until later because they were so short-lived that she didn’t think it was worth mentioning.

…

I realize that I don’t know where to go with this anymore. I intended to explain the little things L would say and do, the little thoughtless, dismissive things that made it more and more obvious to me that I had not only lost status as a lover (which I was able to overcome) but also as an important figure in her life. But how can I make it understood? I can catalogue the little stings, the pettiness on my own part in reaction, and her own casual shrugging off of it, but I don’t think I could get across the helplessness and loneliness I felt.

Let me try this one: she’d left S again and moved in temporarily with a girlfriend of hers from High School and her husband (plus kids.) I found this out two days after it happened, and it meant that she was “in town”, near enough that we could hang out. I was also happy (as was she) that she now had an opportunity to get away from both B and S, and maybe get things in her life settled.

She’d stayed with us a month earlier with the same intention, but that only lasted about 10 days (if that) before she went back to B. I sort of snidely (but a little jokingly) asked if she’d need help moving back with one or the other in a week or so. I expected her to either laugh or get mad, but instead she said “Oh, no, that’s not going to happen. I finally feel at ease for the first time in a year, and don’t feel like someone is always looking over my shoulder at who I’m texting, or needing to know where I’m going. It’s so much less stressful.”

Well. In a fit of pique I replied back “I didn’t realize we’d been that bad, or made everything so stressful for you. My apologies.” I can be passive aggressive with the best of them! Again, I expected her to blow up, become defensive, say how she didn’t mean it that way, etc. But her response was “Oh, I know sweetie. And I’m not trying to be ugly, just being honest.”

Or this one: a week or so later, coming up on the 4th of July, I’d told her that the wife and I wanted to have a cookout, and she should come over with a guy she’d been hanging out with, K. We’d met K the summer before, and he was a friend of L’s from back in school. He had a crush on L, and though L told him over and over that it wasn’t going to happen and they were just friends, he kept hanging around.

(Aside: it paid off for him, because during this period she finally got horny enough to sleep with him. The next morning he was all puppy-dog giddy about it, but she shot that right down and told him it was just weird and couldn’t happen again. End aside.)

So I said, if they were hanging out anyway, to come on by for some burgers or whatever. She said she’d let me know. Two days before the day she said she wouldn’t be able to make it because the girlfriend she was staying with invited her to something the family was doing, and she thought she ought to attend to stay in their good graces. I said I understood.

On the morning of the 4th she said mentioned something about her and K going to one of his brother’s house. I said I thought she was going to be with her friend’s family, and she said no, she’d never really planned to do that. I said they could still come over for the cookout. She said “We might, but don’t wait for us or anything.”

Later, about lunch time, she sent a text saying that she and K were at a local restaurant. I guess an invitation to join them was implied, but I didn’t bother replying.

Those were just two events out of months of hits and dings I felt. If you’ve read them and are thinking “I dunno, Rob, those things don’t really seem that bad,” I really don’t blame you. Now, a year removed from it, it’s hard for me to really express how it felt and what it did to my frame of mind. I just know that it hurt.

We’re better now, L and I. Some days are better than others, but mostly I think we’re settling into a more “normal” sibling relationship. As I’ve mentioned before, we aren’t where we used to be, but some of the closeness was probably part and parcel along with the sexual relationship. Once that stopped, some of that closeness would necessarily go away as well. Or maybe that’s how our relationship would have progressed anyway, even without the sexual relationship.

Flash Fiction Friday - Two Sides to Every Story - 8/9

• Required Phrase - advertisement and/or flyer
• Word length - 320 (3 songs for $20)
• Forbidden words - Stripper, bastard, appetizer
• Bonus Points - reflect the viewpoint of both women
• Extra Credit words - Tell us worst experience with a stripper or at a strip club (50 words) and/or, your best (25 words)

Jenny went through the motions, and her listless performance did nothing to wake up the crowd. The place reeked of stale smoke and cheap booze, and even the few women who’d showed up looked bored. Women in the audience could generate a certain level of excitement, but not tonight. The men didn’t just look bored; they looked defeated.

And that’s how Jenny felt; defeated. It was her fourth set, and there just was nothing to work with. Tips would be sparse tonight. She tweaked her nipples to make them erect, and wished her tits were big enough that she could lick the nipples. Some men found that exciting, though she didn’t know why.

The woman sitting with the man in the tie who’d been pounding gin and tonic all night stood and walked toward the stage just as her last number was winding down. This could be interesting.

Carol hadn’t wanted to come to the dance club, but Gary (Professor Turner in class) had insisted, saying it would be fun. All he’d done was scowl, though. Oh, yea, this was a blast!

The flyer said dances were 3 songs for $20; she decided she’d buy a set for Gary. Maybe that would charge him up and they could get out of here. The sex wasn’t great, but it would be better than staying here.

Gary gave her a questioning look when she stood, but she ignored him. The dancer had looked bored before, but now interest shown in her eyes. “What can I do for you, honey?” she asked. Her sultry voice sent unexpected shivers and tingles through Carol.

“Are the dances still 3 for $20?” she asked, puzzled by her own reactions.

The dancer smiled. “That’s for the men. They’re free for you.” Carol gaped at the suggestion, but it only took her a second to decide. She allowed herself to be led to a room behind the stage.

“I’m Jenny,” she said, closing the door and motioning Carol to sit in the chair.

“I’m Carol,” she replied, hesitantly.

“Is this your first lap dance, Carol?” Carol nodded. “Okay, just relax and I’ll take good care of you,” she said, smiling.

Carol’s eyes flicked over to the sign by the door: No Touching! Jenny followed her gaze, then turned back to her and smiled. “That’s for the men too, baby,” she whispered, leaning in close.

I went to the strip clubs off post a lot when I was stationed at Fort Knox. Usually I’d go with a crowd of other guys, but once in a while I’d be horny and bored and go by myself. Alone, I was always too self-conscious to enjoy myself, though, so I didn’t do it often.

The best stripper experience: She was several years older than me (if you allow me a liberal definition of “several”) and a friend, Brad, and I had spent more than several dollars (see above) at the club. She came to us that first night trying to get us to buy a lap dance or overpriced drink (that she’d get a cut of), and though we begged off she wound up sitting with us and talking. Her daughter worked there too, and before long the both of them were at our table. Brad fell in love with the daughter and somehow talked her into a date, but only if I’d take the mom to make it a double date.

I was willing (she had a pretty good body for her age), and so we took them to dinner one night when they were both off, then went back home with them. Brad and the daughter went to her bedroom while the mom and I made out in the living room. I fingered her to a few orgasms that first night, but didn’t get anything in return. She promised more the next time, and sure enough she kept that promise. We dated for a few months, then we just sort of lost touch.

(Brad’s experience wasn’t as good: the daughter kept telling him how broke she was, and hinting that if he could “lend” her some money she’d show her appreciation. Some $500 later, I think he finally got one shot at her, but then she stopped answering his calls. The mother told me (and made me promise not to tell him) that he was just so bad the daughter wasn’t willing to fuck him anymore. I felt bad for him, but later he stole money from me, so fuck him!)

The worst stripper experience: The worst time I ever had in a strip club was when a fight broke out right behind us, catching us between it and the stage. Drunken rednecks (mostly townies not in the military) were swinging chairs and throwing bottles, not really caring if they were hitting the guys they were mad at or us.

I was with a group of 8 people, but when we got in there weren’t two tables at the stage together. So four of us sat on one side and the others sat on the other side. I don’t know what caused the fight, but there was beer and blood everywhere within a few short seconds. The four bouncers were going ape-shit, and rushed into the melee trying to break it up, but they were outnumbered and had a bad plan of action.

See, in a near riot like that, their job isn’t to be peacemakers and get everyone calmed down. When you have 12 or 15 people wailing away at each other, your first job is to get them out of your fucking building! The bouncers were big enough that they should have each grabbed a miscreant and thrown their asses out the door, then rinse and repeat until no more drunken rednecks.

But the bouncers waded in with the idea to pull the fighters apart then move on to the next fighters. Imagine ten ball magnets in a bowl. Pull two of them apart and set them off to the side of the bowl and then pull two more apart, and so on. How long do you think it will take to separate them all while keeping them in the bowl? Exactly; it ain’t gonna happen!

The fight was spreading out more, though, and getting dangerously close to us. I got the attention of one of my buddies and the two of us picked up a table and used it as a shield while we edged around the stage. The other two of our group on that side saw what we were doing and followed us, and we made it around to hook up with our group. I wanted to rush over and help out the bouncers, but one of the other guys said it would be a bad idea. In the heat of the battle, the bouncers wouldn’t know who was “helping” and who needed a hard knock upside the head. Good point.

The best thing about a large group of drunken rednecks fighting is pretty soon they run out of steam. And just like that, the fight was as good as over. The bouncers started pushing them out the door, and as soon as they were cleared out the announcer told everyone else to leave too. They were done for the night. When we got outside, most of the troublemakers were driving off, but I saw two of them over by a pickup talking and laughing.

I recognized them as two of the ones who’d been wailing away at each other inside earlier, so I walked over and grabbed a beer from their six-pack. I explained that they’d cost me the beer I lost inside when the fight started, so I figured they owed me. The agreed readily enough and apologized, and offered everyone else from my group one (they had a cooler full.) We drank until someone came out of the club and run us off.

While we were talking I asked them what started the fight, but they couldn’t tell me. One of them told me they came in as a group, as usual, and two of them were arguing over something so everyone picked a side and started swinging. “It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again,” he said, grinning. They got in the truck and drove off.

I’m trying to remember, but I’m almost positive we never went back to that particular club.

Get over to Advizor's site and read the other entries for this week's Flash Fiction Friday!

What the L - Postscript

Enough people have asked for an explanation of when the wife caught L and I kissing and how I was able to BS my way out of it that I decided to write a separate post explaining it. Okay, only one person has asked (so far), but that’s enough for me.

The Saturday before Super Bowl Sunday, the wife and I drove down to see L and B. We intended to make it just a day trip only, so we didn’t have any of our normal over-night stuff with us. L and I had been really flirty the day before in email, so being near each other was filling us both with sexual tension. But what could we do? We’d be on the road back home soon.

We went to a Mexican joint for dinner with them, and while there I had a beer or three more than I’d planned and was getting a pretty good buzz. We were all laughing and kidding around, and B was teasing the wife like he always does. I know the wife has a sort of “big brother” crush on B (even though he’s younger than she is), and she eats up the attention he pays her. This night was no exception.

I’m almost positive that L was the first to ask if we were sure we didn’t want to stay. Of course I wanted to, just to have a chance to be alone with her, but the wife pointed out we didn’t have our stuff with us. B said we should anyway; just get whatever we need at Wal-Mart. We already had an overnight toiletries kit there, so we’d just need shirts and underthings for the next day. The wife said no, so B motioned for me to switch seats with him so he could sit beside her (which left me sitting beside L.) He hugged on her and teased her about us staying and got her giggling until she finally relented and said we could.

She and L drove in our vehicle to Wal-Mart while B and I drove in his truck to pick up some alcohol the wife liked a lot that we only knew of being at one place. B and I got to the house first, lit a fire outside in their fire pit, and stood out drinking and talking until the girls got there. I’d lit a cigar and figured we’d all be out there for a while, but it was kind of chilly. The girls came out to the fire for a few minutes (after taking the stuff the wife bought inside), but everyone agreed it was too cold, even with the fire, and wanted to go in.

I said I’d come in after I finished my cigar, so the three of them walked to the house. On the way, L stopped and said she’d stay out with me to keep me company, so the wife and B went in. L came back by the fire and we grinned at each other, knowing what was on both of our minds. But where we were was easily visible from the kitchen window, so we couldn’t really safely do anything. She led me over to the side of the house where we couldn’t be seen, and where we’d hear someone (probably) if they came out.

We were both buzzing, but not truly drunk, so we were cautious. We’d kiss and touch, but we didn’t take any stupid chances. We heard the front door open so we broke apart and composed ourselves quickly and moved towards that corner like we were just on our way in. It’s a good thing too, because it was the wife coming out to tell us to come in.

Later, B said he was done and was going to bed. The wife and I set up the blowup mattress they kept on hand and started putting air in it. The wife said she’d take care of it, so I went back in the living room with L. We sneaked a few kisses in, but that was it.

The wife came out and we continued talking, laughing, and mostly drinking. I got hammered, and L did too, but the wife stayed relatively sober, slowly sipping her drink. Around midnight we decided we needed a snack run (which was a pretty common thing for us to do) but I don’t have a good memory of it. The wife drove, L’s daughter and a friend of hers rode up front, and L and I sat in the back sneakily holding hands and playing footsie. L later told me I was staggering all around the convenience store we went in, and that she was feeding me ice cream when we were back in the car on the way home.

Not long after getting back from the snack run, we were all winding down and talking about going to bed. The wife went into the bathroom, and L and I stood behind a partition between the living room and the kitchen (where the wife wouldn’t see us when she came out) and started making out again. I actually had my hand down her pants, playing with her pussy and clit, knowing that I’d hear the wife when she came out of the bathroom. Of course the fact that their bedroom door was right beside us, and if B came out we’d be busted, went completely unnoticed.

I’d just taken my hand out of her pants and broke the kiss (we were standing very intimately, forehead to forehead) when I heard the wife behind me say “What the heck*?!” L broke away from me and said “Bed time!” and went into their room quick. I turned towards the wife as nonchalantly as I could and said “What’s up baby?”

“What were you doing?” she asked, angrily.

“Nothing, baby. We were just saying good night.” I could tell she was mad, but more incredulous and confused than anything. My head felt like cotton, and I was having a hard time dealing with anything involving higher thinking skills.

“Something was going on. We’ll talk about it in the morning when you aren’t drunk!”

I knew I wasn’t going to get much sleep, being worried about this. I passed out and the next thing I knew it was 6:00 in the morning. The wife and B were laughing about something on her phone, and it turned out that she had been recording my snoring. (I was legendary even in the Army with my snoring, if I haven’t mentioned that before.) She was laughing and sounded pretty normal, so I started thinking I might have a chance to get out of this one.

I was just sitting up when B went back into their bedroom and shut the door. “Ha ha,” I said to her groggily. “Rob snores, what a surprise.” I was trying to sound as hung-over and pitiful as I could, and it wasn’t taking much acting on my part.

“Oh, but it was bad last night!” she said, laughing. She played the recording for me, and I laughed dutifully though I wasn’t paying much attention. I went into the bathroom and took care of business, then came back out and sat at the kitchen bar with her.

“What was going on last night between you and sissy?” she asked.

“Baby, I really don’t know what you mean.”

“You two were hiding behind that wall, like you didn’t want me to see. It looked like you were making out!”

“Honey, seriously, that’s not even funny!” I said. “She said she was going to bed, so I got up to say goodnight. We hugged like we always do, then she went to their room.” I was trying not to add any details at this time, though a whole slew of ideas were running through my head. But I couldn’t throw any of them out there until I had a chance to talk with L and make sure she didn’t contradict me.

“That’s not what it looked like to me, and I wasn’t drunk last night!” she said, though she didn’t sound as certain as earlier.

“Well, what did it look like? What do you think you saw?” I knew my back had been to her, and that we hadn’t actually been kissing at that very moment. What I didn’t know was how long she’d been watching, because had been literally no more than 7 or 8 seconds from when I took my hands out of L’s pants and I heard “What the heck*?!”

“I don’t know,” she said, but I could tell she definitely doubted herself. “It just looked weird.” Right then we heard someone moving around in L’s bedroom, so the wife said “Okay, sissy and I will go pick up breakfast and I’ll ask her about it,” and got up to go to the bathroom. L opened their bedroom door, saying something to B, and came out into the kitchen. She looked around the partition to see if the wife was there, then looked at me and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Very slowly and quietly I mouthed “It’s okay, but you don’t remember anything.” She nodded, and went about making coffee. The wife came out and said good morning to L, who said it back, both acting like nothing had happened. The wife suggested they go pick us all up some breakfast, and L casually agreed. They got everyone’s order, and on their way out the door, L looked back at me and made a comically worried face.

I fretted about how the conversation would go, but knew there was nothing I could do about it. As long as L stayed with the “don’t remember much” story, we’d be fine. About 45 minutes later they came home, and walking through the door they were laughing about something. I breathed a lot easier after that. The next time the wife and I were alone for a bit, she said “I didn’t say anything; I just let it go.” We got through the rest of the morning without incident, then the wife and I got on the road to head home.

I really expected her to say something during the drive, but she didn’t, and has never brought it up (not directly, anyway) again. I guess she figured there was no way she could have seen what she thought she had, since L and I are siblings. We wound up going right back down a few hours later because L was a little upset about nobody showing up for her big Super Bowl Party.

The only stipulation the wife made to our going back there: that I not drink anything.

*By the way, if you’re thinking “heck” isn’t the word most people would use and I’m cleaning up what the wife said for some reason, I assure you I’m not. As a non-native English speaker, the wife makes some really funny distinctions about what she’ll say. In her mind, “what the heck” is as strongly worded as “what the hell” or “what the fuck.” And it’s really funny to hear her say “That dumb mother fucker, what a crap head!”