After Duty Calls

Can a trick help Sam get a fresh start and find new love?

This story was written for the 2025 April Fool's Day Contest.

© SouthernCrossfire - 2025. All rights reserved,

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The trial was over and I was glad.

Well, almost glad.

For nearly two full business weeks, I'd been Juror 19 in a murder trial in our mid-sized bedroom community just outside the largest city in the middle of a mid-sized state. Having served on juries a few years earlier, I'd been elected jury foreman and now the press from the local and city papers, several radio stations, and a TV station or two were outside hoping I would make a statement about our findings. I wasn't concerned about them, though.

With the judge having just dismissed us, I had two thoughts on my mind. First, I wanted to get out without running into those vultures and, secondly, I really wanted to find Melinda, AKA Juror Number 31.

*****

It was just a few months after the governor declared that jury trials could resume after the pandemic shutdown that I'd received my jury summons. It ticked me off, in a way, since this was my third time in about four years (not counting the COVID break), whereas most of the guys at my firm hadn't been called even once during the same period. Much like that time in high school when one of the seniors did it, I felt like someone had pinned a "Kick me!" sign on my back only this time it said "Pick me!"

To make matters worse, I'd been selected the first two times, so I was determined to get out of it this time. I gave excuses about why I couldn't serve, the most important being that I'd followed the case closely and already had some definite opinions about the case based on what the press had reported.

"Yes, I still have newspaper subscriptions--city and local, actually, plus online access to the big one," I answered, feeling like a three-eyed carnival freak based on some of the looks I got when I said it. There'd been a good bit of reporting about the case in the local paper, some in the city rag, and at least a few reports on radio and TV.

"But can you put what you've heard out of your mind and be objective based on the facts presented?" queried the prosecutor.

I sighed, recalling what Coach Nelson said in our American government class about 25 years before. Parroting him, I answered, "'Jury duty is an important responsibility of every citizen.' And yes, I'll do my best to be objective, listen to the evidence, and vote according to the case presented rather than what I've heard in the news." I left unsaid that I already felt him to be as guilty as sin and just had to wait for the prosecutor to present a half-decent case to convict him.

"That's good enough for me," said the prosecutor. Based on the questionnaire I'd filled out and my past service, he knew I'd be a dependable juror, though he'd have to present the case to get me to finalize my vote.

"Good enough," said the judge, who was about to turn to the defense attorney.

"Your honor, I have another reason," I said. "It's, ahem, private."

The Honorable Nicholas Yellenby looked at me like he'd heard everything but he must have seen the concern in my eyes and so he turned to the prosecutor and the defense attorney and told all three of us, "Approach the bench."

With me standing in the center and the other two huddled in close, Judge Yellenby leaned toward me and said, "What's wrong, Mr. Thomason?"

While I think he was supposed to address me as Juror 19, Judge Yellenby and I had both been members of a local service organization until I'd had to take a leave of absence three years before. We didn't know each other well and he'd already ruled that wasn't enough to cause a conflict of interest that might disqualify me as a juror.

Yes, I was trying everything.

Now, though, it wasn't a technicality but a real sadness and a real concern that caused my eyes to cloud as I recalled that night nearly three years earlier....

*****

It was late on Friday evening and I awoke feeling a warm breath behind my ear and hot little hand sliding over the top of my unexpectedly mounting excitement. Cici had something to do a little earlier before joining me and I'd fallen asleep without finishing a single page of my book.

"You're not asleep are you?" she whispered. "I'm getting up early for my practice run and I could use a little something to help me fall asleep as fast as you did."

Damn! She was nibbling on my ear lobe, knowing full well what that did to me. Between that and her hand sliding into my boxer briefs to cup and encircle me rather than continuing to just tease over the top quickly put any thought of rolling over and going back to sleep behind me.

When I turned my head toward her, she had an anticipatory smile and rolled her eyes to the side. I nodded and she rolled away from me but scooted back, presenting her sweet ass against my hardness and then leaned back against my chest to pull my arm around her. With both of us lying on our left side, she raised her top leg, planting her foot to brace herself and making it easier for me to push into her heat.

"Mmm," I moaned as I did, finding her hot and ready, allowing me to bury myself to the hilt, tight against her buns. Her fingers interlaced with those of my right hand and she pulled them in tight against her little breasts. With her running so much in training for her upcoming marathon, she'd lost weight, a little too much I thought, but she'd promised to cut back on her running and regain a little weight after the race.

I was kissing her from behind as I held her and thrust in time with her soft whimpers and little flexes, caressing my length and giving me a bit of her love on each stroke. Seeing her knee pull up a bit closer, I disengaged my fingers from hers, slid across a little tit to tweak her hard nipple, and then down her flat tummy, over her close-cropped mound, and to her little glans.

A few times around and then a short fast flick as my strokes continued, leading her to turn her head over her shoulder where we could share a loving kiss.

"I love you, Sammy," she whispered while looking back into my eyes. "And, God, I love that. Mmm."

Her grin faded and turned into rapt concentration as I continued and then, before too long, into dogged determination not to give in before I was ready. Fortunately I was getting close, my breathing and my movements short and fast.

"Are you..." she started only for me to nod, give her just a few more rounds, and then slam hard against her ass as I sent my cum spurting deep in her loving pussy. Cici's face, set so intensely just a moment earlier, seemed to dissolve into a beautiful, tranquil state as her pleasure, building for so long, swept through her. She grabbed my arm, pulling it away from her now-conquered "Mount Heavenly" and back up to her breasts where she held me snuggled against her.

We lay there for several minutes, reveling in our love before she released me for a quick cleanup. Back in bed, we held each other close for a few moments, sharing a few short sweet kisses before Cici said, "I'm getting up early in the morning to do 20 miles so I should be back at 8:55 to 9 a. m."

"Oh, a whole five-minute window, eh?" I teased.

"Okay, after you kept me up late doing wonderfully wicked things to me, let's say 8:55 to 9:15."

I laughed lightly at her adding a whole minute per mile to her training time, knowing that her initial estimate would likely be right on the money. "Okay, sweetheart. Be careful and I'll see you when you get back if I don't wake up before you leave."

We kissed goodnight and I went to sleep not knowing that would be the last time I ever saw her alive.

*****

Despite my effort, a tear streamed down my cheek as I recalled the guilt of not waking up, of not stopping her from going out that fateful morning.

Of not knowing that I needed to.

Wiping as surreptitiously as I could, I said, "Your Honor, I'm a single parent, widowed, and I have two troubled daughters at home with no one to watch them. My parents kept the girls last time I had jury duty, but they retired and moved to Florida just before the pandemic and I have no one here now that I can depend on to pitch in to help for this long. My daughters have really struggled with their mom not being there for them, but they're good girls and I want to keep them that way. I even schedule my work hours so I can pick them up from their practice and afterschool program, so they don't have to stay home alone."

The judge looked at me and nodded slowly, remembering. "Gigi."

"Cici, your honor."

"Cici," he repeated, nodding again. "Yes, I'd forgotten about that. I'm sorry and sorry for your loss." Seeing the look of both of the lawyers, he added, "Mr. Thomason, do you have any pictures of them?"

"Yes, your honor." I immediately hit the button to show the cover photo and handed it to him. "That's Bethany and Breanna, three years ago with Cici. She had a heart issue we didn't know about and died while training for a marathon just days after I took this photo. The girls are 14 and 11 now--"

I paused, barely able to continue as I quickly wiped another tear, hoping no one would see. "They've struggled, your honor, and they need me there for them."

Yes, some might call me a helicopter parent, hovering around them, but I called it doing what it took to help them get through the pain and keep them safe and out of trouble. Losing their mother so unexpectedly had been a shock and had led to some very difficult times. It had been a tough journey but they trusted me now and weren't afraid to talk to me about anything, even when it made me, a 43-year-old somewhat introverted guy, uncomfortable.

The judge looked at the picture and then flashed it toward each of the attorneys before handing it back and asking the details on their schedules.

"Mister, ahem, Juror 19, again, I'm sorry for your loss and for the issues you've had. We generally allow very limited excusals for child care needs--nursing mothers and such--but if you happen to be selected, I'll keep your situation in mind and will try to end sessions at a reasonable time so you can pick your girls up."

"Thank you, your honor. If you can do that, I withdraw my request and will be ready to serve if chosen."

"Thank you, Nineteen. Now, check that phone to be sure it's in silent mode and return to your seat. I wouldn't want your daughters to have to come bail you out if they call you and that phone rings in my courtroom." He laughed and I laughed nervously with him as I quickly confirmed I'd turned the ringer back off after lunch.

Shooing the prosecutor and the lead defense attorney away, too, he asked, in a louder voice with the mic back on, "Does the defense have any questions for this juror?"

The defense attorney gave a cringy nod. "Yes, your honor. I have a few."

He was a greasy asshole who gave me a hard time, asking a bunch of questions instead of a few, first about my past jury duty experience ("Yes, we found one guilty, and one not guilty") and then about the organizations to which I belonged. He must have been familiar with the service club I'd formerly shared with Judge Yellenby because he skipped further down below it on the list.

"What's ASME?"

"One of my professional societies, the American Society of Mechanical Engineers. It's, ahem, for mechanical engineers."

Most of the prospective jurors and some of the support staff laughed at my eloquence as I blushed, reminding myself not to volunteer more than needed.

The attorney asked about a few others, receiving curt answers and becoming more frustrated on each. He scanned down the list and made a face, probably disappointed that I hadn't included the KKK or something similar that would allow me to be dismissed. "Ah, here, what's this one, the SCA?"

I rolled my eyes but I think the judge did it first, holding up his hand toward the defense attorney. "Juror 19, in an attempt to keep us from being here the rest of the afternoon with questions for you, are you or have you ever been a member of any organization, personal or professional, that would sway your opinion based on anything other than the facts presented?"

With a sigh of concession, I replied honestly, "No, your honor."

"Remembering what we discussed earlier about the media coverage and your willingness to put that aside, do you have anything in your personal background or beliefs that might prevent you from being impartial in this case and giving weight to the testimony and evidence presented in this courtroom instead of to your personal beliefs or preconceptions?"

"No, your honor, not that I'm aware of."

The judge looked at the defense attorney and said, "Good enough, Mr. Denham?"

The defense attorney sputtered a bit more but didn't make any headway, with the judge refusing to continue the questioning or to dismiss me for cause as I still hoped. Based on the open questions to the other jurors, I'd reported as much education as any of the others who'd been called to fill out the jury--and more than most--so I could almost see the gears turning in the defense attorney Denham's head as he debated using one of his peremptory strikes to send me on my way. He whispered with his assistant at the table while the defendant's eyes wandered, as if he didn't want to look at the person who might send him to the chair.

However, as much as Denham appeared to dislike me, I looked professional and had promised to be fair; since some of those that followed looked a bit seedy for jury duty and possibly for most anything else, he couldn't be sure about their responses or their follow-up so he gritted his teeth and moved on without striking me.

With that, I was empaneled, taking my assigned seat in the jury box.

Questioning for the next few potential jurors went fairly quickly, with the judge, the DA, and the defense attorney seemingly playing a game of three-way chess until the jury was down to the last spot.

My eyes and my mind focused then for they'd reached Juror 31. Standing for the questioning, she reminded me of a supermodel, though with our masks that the governor still mandated still being in place, I couldn't be sure if her face came anywhere close to the rest.

She was about 5'-8 to 9" tall, about 125 to 130 pounds, with clothes that fit perfectly and really flattered the great figure of someone who exercises regularly. Though I couldn't see at the moment since she was standing at her seat, I'd already noticed very sexy legs below a modest, business-like skirt, but I could see up top, with nicely-sized breasts looking perfect on her frame under a long-sleeved floral blouse.

When she turned toward the jury box where I was now seated for a moment, I saw what appeared to be almond-shaped, creamy-brown eyes highlighted by long, full, dark lashes that were to die for--they were what had drawn my attention to her earlier. Her hair was a wavy brown, hanging about halfway down her back, with a hint of a red, though I wondered if it might be a reflection from the reddish mahogany paneling around the courtroom. She reminded me of some actress, but I couldn't recall the woman's name or the show I'd seen her on.

The only problem was that the state was still making us wear our masks indoors if not alone in private offices and she didn't pull it down when answering questions like some of the potential jurors so I still couldn't see her face.

From what I could see, I guessed that she was in her early 30s at most. With me being 43 and three-years widowed, I'd finally let Cici go and recently begun to wonder whether there might be another woman out there for me. No, I didn't have designs on Juror 31, but she seemed like a knockout and I wondered what her mask was hiding. It was silly to wonder or even dream, but I hadn't been around anyone like that since Cici, so I indulged myself a bit, wondering what a date with her might be like if I were a bit younger. It was a silly daydream that would never come true, but Cici always told me that dreams are fun because they're our imagination showing us what might be if things were somewhat different.

With it already getting late in the day and close to time for me to get to the schools for the girls, the judge had cut the questioning short and it wasn't long before Juror 31 took her place on the back row with me but at the far end of the box. As the questioning for the two alternates began, thoughts of supermodels, Juror 31, and dating in general were forgotten as I watched the clock on my phone, hoping Judge Yellenby would honor his pledge. He did, with selection of the alternates following in fairly short order before sentencing us to be there bright and early the next morning to get started with the actual trial.

It was a complicated case with a lot of witnesses, most of them testifying about the technical aspects since there were no eyewitnesses to the crime itself, so it dragged on from Tuesday through the following Monday. I'd been busy at work prior to the trial and taking what was originally estimated as 7 to 10 business days away for the trial was a non-starter, so I spent my lunch hour each day munching on a sandwich that I brought from home while answering emails on on-going component projects and spending at least a couple of hours each evening doing actual work when I wasn't spending time with my girls.

Bethany was a teen and was trying to express her independence, but Breanna was still a kid and needed lots of attention, so after helping with homework and reconnecting through her usual pre-teen angst, I even worked on my laptop while she snuggled up against me to watch TV on several evenings. She fell asleep against me on more than one occasion.

Because of my working lunches, I skipped the courthouse cafeteria, using the little quiet room designed just for such use instead so I never got to talk to Juror 31 and by the end of closing arguments, my silly, initial interest in her was practically forgotten.

Before the court proceedings and based on media reports alone, I'd figured it would be an easy decision to fry the accused if the prosecutor did an even half-assed job presenting the case, but that changed once we started deliberations on Tuesday morning. I was quickly elected jury foreperson but that was about the only thing that was quick. We discussed the case for a bit and then took our first vote, ending 11-1 on the most serious charge.

The state requires secret ballots but, by process of elimination, I soon narrowed our dissenter down to one of three people. Over the course of the day, we discussed the case, going through our notes, and took four more votes.

All turned out 11-1 on the most serious charge, but I was down to two candidates for the dissenter: Jurors 6 and 31. Other than possibly me, Juror 31 had taken the most extensive notes and she was constantly consulting them as our discussion continued, though she said little other than occasionally giving us what I believed were verbatim quotes from her notes of the proceedings.

As I sat on the couch with both of my girls that evening with the TV playing before us, my mind wasn't on the screen. It was elsewhere, on a leadership training course I'd taken years before. With nothing left to lose, I decided to try it.

On Wednesday morning, I said, "Let's do something different today. I want everyone to spend the next half hour thinking and writing the reasoning for their vote on Count 1 of the charges. Why do you think as you do? What evidence supports your conclusion? We're going to make this anonymous, just like our votes, so write what you think but don't sign it. Fold it and put it in the pot when you're done. Afterwards, I'll draw the papers out randomly, one at a time, and read them and we'll discuss each in turn."

To my surprise, a couple of people were still writing when my planned time-frame was up, so I waited, pretending to still be writing as they finished up. The three of us folded our papers and put them in the pot at the same time.

One of them was Juror 31.

After a shuffle, I drew one and read it, with each following in turn. A few were blank if the "He's guilty!" and "Guilty" notes were excluded, but several, including my own, pointed out key evidence that made us believe the prosecution's case.

The eighth paper was different, pointing out that the defendant had arrived at the victim's home with a 12-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon--the prosecutor had even used the beer and the purchase receipt to place the defendant in the house for the murder--but that wasn't something someone would normally take along and leave behind if there was an advance plan to kill his friend. We'd all agreed that what the prosecutor claimed was a premeditated plan by the accused to kill his friend wasn't exactly put together by a MENSA scholar, but it was a question we hadn't considered.

"The attempted cover-up seemed hasty to me, too," the paper continued, "and not well planned, making me believe it was passion, not poor premeditation that resulted in the victim's death. While I'd never, ever kill anyone, if I were to do so, the shock and fear and even loathing at myself that I would experience would lead to such mistakes that would likely be avoided by a stone-cold, premeditated killer the DA wants us to believe he is."

My mind was awhirl as I considered what I'd read, but at least part of the argument seemed possible, so I proposed a "what if" scenario that we continued to discuss after going through the last few notes.

Over the rest of Wednesday afternoon, the discussion continued and four more votes resulted in movement to 6 guilty and 6 not guilty of first-degree murder on the final ballot. With more apparent cover, Juror 31 finally said, "I fully believe the prosecutor made the case for us to find him guilty on the lesser charges but that top charge? First-degree murder? I'm sorry, I'm not buying it and you'd have to show me a lot more than the DA did for me to vote to fry the guy--or whatever they use in this state--instead of thirty-to-life or whatever."

I'm not sure if it was Juror 31's impassioned statement or just sleeping on it, but on the morning of the third day of deliberations, our next vote on the first-degree murder charge was 3 guilty to 9 not guilty. I was openly supporting Juror 31's contentions by this point and by lunchtime and much to my surprise considering my feelings coming into the trial, we found the defendant not guilty on that top charge.

However, finding him guilty of all of the other charges took less than two hours after lunch. When we had everything written up, we sent a note to the judge and, after a seemingly interminable wait, were escorted back into the courtroom where I handed our report to the judge before being instructed to read the verdict.

Minutes later, the judge thanked us for our service and dismissed us

*****

I knew I didn't want to speak to the press and hadn't planned to speak to any of the other jurors after we were dismissed other than to shake hands and say goodbye after we returned to the jury room to collect our things. However, I'd been impressed with Juror 31's arguments so I wanted to thank her, but she slipped out before I reached her. Therefore, that was why I was hurrying through the courthouse's back corridor where the bailiffs had directed us so we might make our way to the parking lot without running into the hounds of the press corps.

I caught sight of her just as she was exiting the guarded security door that led to the parking lot.

"Hey, Melinda! Thirty-one! Wait up!" I called, scurrying after her, hoping I'd heard her name correctly.

"Hi, Nineteen. Sorry I didn't hang around in there to thank you. Everything that happened was just overwhelming and I needed some space and some air."

"You're talking about finding him guilty?"

A little shake, her hair swaying. "Not so much the guilty verdict on what I'm convinced he did, but the fact that we actually didn't find him guilty of the top charge."

"You made a great argument and convinced me. Thank you for that. I wanted to do the right thing but I was so sure and so focused on the guilt after watching the case presented that I wasn't catching a few nuances that you pointed out. Thanks for helping us do the right thing."

"You knew it was me? That I was the holdout?"

"I knew you were a possibility at first but it didn't take much to make that 100%," I laughed. "You were right and I didn't see it until your essay. And that's why we didn't take the easy way out and just fry him. Or whatever."

She laughed, a hint of nervousness in it. "Exactly. He needs to serve his time, but I hope he'll learn his lesson and actually become a person worthy of parole someday."

"I sure hope so, either do his time in prison and be rehabbed or that the parole board will leave him in there to rot."

"Well said." Hearing noise sounding as if it was coming from somewhere around the building, she asked, "Are you going to talk to the press? Based on what the bailiffs were saying and that noise, it sounds like a madhouse out there."

"They can have it. We've done our part and I'm keeping my trap shut."

As we walked, we emerged from the building's shadow into the early-spring sunshine. Being outdoors and free of the governor's mandate, my mask came off in a second and I breathed the fresh air with its early hints of pollen, but Nineteen kept hers on.

Nineteen? "Say, your name's Melinda, right?"

"Yeah, Melinda Birkenstock, but you can call me Mindy. And you're Samuel?"

"You got it," I agreed. Extending a fist, I added, "Samuel Thomason. Just call me Sam. It's nice to meet you, Mindy."

Though still wearing her mask, she did bump my fist with her own and she said, "Likewise, Sam," seeming so relaxed but then her eye caught my wedding band and she visibly stiffened. "I, ah, better be going and you better be getting home to your wife." She said "Bye" as she turned to go.

I exhaled and pulled out my phone. "Wait, Mindy, please. This was Cici, my wife, and our daughters. The girls are 14 and 11 now, but Cici...." I shook my head. "She passed away three years ago this spring. I haven't remarried."

Mindy turned back and looked at the hurt on my face and the photo on my phone. "That's what you showed the judge on your phone."

"Yeah, trying to get out of jury duty for the girls' sake, but he agreed to make sure we were dismissed early enough that I could get them from their stuff after school. That's how I ended up on the jury."

"Three years? That's before COVID."

"Undiagnosed heart valve issue and getting ready for a late spring marathon."

Her hand took my wrist and gave a comforting squeeze.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

"Your daughters are lovely."

"They're basically my life these days."

Still gripping my wrist, she moved my arm where she could see the ring. "That's why you still wear the ring, three years later, to protect them, rather than risk meeting someone and moving on."

Hearing it stated like that, it hurt even though it was the truth, but when I looked in her eyes, I saw compassion so I nodded.

"I was thinking of leaving it behind when COVID hit, but then it didn't matter since I couldn't date even if I wanted to so I left it on. I want to take it off and move on, but I think having it there gives the girls a little comfort too and they don't have to worry that I'm going to abandon them for another woman."

"Oh, I don't know. You might think about talking to them and letting them know that you're always going to love and be there for them but that you're also going to move on someday and one step in that process is taking that off. Sounds like they're old enough to understand, and, while they'll always miss their mom, they'll probably be happy for you, at least eventually."

I was nodding with her but had to chuckle at the last part. I wondered about "eventually," if it might ever come, and if they'd ever really be happy about it. As that thought flashed through my mind, I realized that, as much as I might like to start with Mindy, that wouldn't be happening and I forced a smile and focused on her eyes above the mask. As I did, the corners crinkled, telling me she was smiling or else thinking of something. Then she cocked her head a bit.

"Say, I just remembered something. During jury selection, didn't you say you're a member of SCA?"

The Superconducting Ceramics Association, often abbreviated to SCA, is a small international professional society, the members of which are mostly men and women who deal with specialized ceramic-type matrices for electronic components and superconductors. Begun in Europe in the late 1980s or early 90s, it's a lot smaller than the American Ceramic Society, but its focus is also a lot narrower. I was a member of both for my job so I could stay abreast of the latest professional papers in their journals, but I wasn't active in either, having only gone to one ACS conference in nearly fifteen years of membership and never done anything with SCA.

Even though I hadn't seen her face, I was fairly sure Mindy didn't look anything like most of the women at that conference, which gave me a little more hope for the future of the profession if she was a member.

"Yeah, but I'm not active. Are you a member?" I asked, obviously a little incredulous. It was against all odds that two jurors would belong to the same obscure professional organization but the odds had been even worse about Cici going out with a nerd like me, much less falling in love and marrying me, so sometimes longshots pay off.

Here it did as she said, "Uh huh," and shook her head. "Say, if you're not active, why don't you come to our meeting on Saturday?"

"There's a meeting on Saturday?" I asked, even more surprised than before. I suspected it might be the student chapter at the university in town, though I wasn't even aware that there was a student chapter there. Living in the suburbs just outside the city, most everything, including my work and almost all professional activities, was "in town," and most of my organizations did something with their student chapters from time to time.

"Yeah, at 9 a. m. on Saturday," she said.

"Are there demonstrations or something?" That was strange to me but if Mindy was going to be there, I was game for a couple of hours, even if the only purpose of the meeting was to sit on our thumbs. Bethany was supposed to do an overnight birthday party and trip on Saturday, and I believed I could arrange a girls' day for Breanna with one of her friends. I'd already promised to do something fun with them that evening.

"Yeah, we always have them. You know? Attract new members?"

"That's great. Sure, then. Where do I meet you?"

She gave me the location, a city park not too far from campus. With all of the games that had resumed over the past few months and it being the start of spring, I suspected it might be a little crowded, so I asked, "So... how will I recognize you? You know, I haven't seen you without the mask?"

Her look told me she was trying to keep from laughing at my obvious attempt to get a look at her. Her hand went up to the strap for a moment before falling away as her eyes seemed to twinkle. "Tell you what, come on Saturday. You can see my face then; I wouldn't want to scare you off right now, would I? And, if you play your cards right, I'll give you my phone number then too."

It had been a long while, but I was fairly sure at that point that she was flirting with me. Having already taken my own mask to reveal my rather ordinary, clean-shaven face, I was hoping she couldn't hear my heart racing or see the veins in my temples throbbing, but she definitely saw my smile as I asked, once again, "If there a lot of people there, seriously, how will I recognize you?"

"Easy, I'll be the one in the princess dress. See you Saturday at 9!"

*****

I'm generally an uncomplicated guy, accepting people as they are and taking them at their word as long as they don't give me a reason to doubt them. Cici always said that was one of the things that had initially attracted her to me.

Well, that and the fact that she thought I ran "a really rad D&D campaign."

However, as I drove home, I thought the idea of a meeting being held at the park was even stranger than having a meeting on Saturday. Dealing with superconductors usually requires one to be in a clean-room-type lab where you have to suit up to prevent dust, hair, and other potential contaminants from getting into the matrices being produced. However, I also reasoned that one could do a good demonstration without actually being in a lab if they weren't making an item for actual use, so maybe that's what they planned.

Maybe?

It was so odd, in fact, that my thoughts turned, wondering if Mindy wasn't as nice as she seemed. Maybe she was pulling a practical joke on me for some unknown reason; maybe she wouldn't even be there when I arrived, but I didn't see the point of the joke and she just didn't seem like that type of person based on our experience together on the jury. Or maybe it was that I just wanted, so very badly, to trust her.

She hadn't given me her cell number, using it as an incentive, saying she might give it to me if I showed up on Saturday. The chance of getting it, however slim, was enough that I knew I'd be there, but that didn't stop me from searching online to find out anything I could about the meeting.

Unfortunately, nothing came up and I didn't even find a student chapter for the university listed on the Superconducting Ceramics Association website, though that wasn't surprising. I didn't find any others listed either and I already knew that the site was firmly planted on the nerdy, technical side rather than on the side of anything fun that would attract younger members like the local chapter seemed to be trying to do.

Assuming, of course, that Mindy was being square with me.

Thinking it over, I knew I was going, just for the chance to see her again. In addition, if it was true, I was glad that the local student chapter had someone in charge who had some common sense and could see that doing fun things with members might build membership over time rather than just depending on the few of us who needed the information on the latest research for our jobs. I also wondered if the local leadership might be interested in moving up and shaking things up at the organization level.

By Friday evening, I was really nervous about maybe having a date, if that's what it really was, or an appointment if not, on Saturday. I really liked what little I knew about Mindy and hoped that I'd have a chance to get to know her better.

And that she'd show up.

"Girls, I have a question for you," I said as I drove Bethany to her friend's house for the sleepover on Friday evening after we'd eaten dinner together. "What's a princess dress?"

"Something I wore when I was five," sniggered Bethany. She looked over her shoulder at her younger sister in the second row of the SUV. "And what Breanna still squeezes into sometimes."

"Shut up, Bethany!"

"Girls! And Bethany, your sister is three years younger than you so she can still do kid stuff sometime if she wants to."

"Yeah, she's just jealous that she can't fit into hers anymore," smirked Breanna.

"No I'm not!" argued Bethany, which led to another round of calming them down before I was finally able to get back to my question. "No, I'm not talking about a girl's Disney princess-type dress. I mean a princess dress like adults wear. What's that?"

The girls looked at each other quizzically, shook their heads in agreement that dad was crazy and didn't need to know if he wasn't. Then they went back to looking at their phones as I drove.

Later that evening after I dropped Bethany off at her friend's house for the sleepover and got Breanna to bed, I found it online, a diagram showing dress types for women. Twenty-eight dress types were shown including, four from the end, the princess dress. That was a relief that it was a real thing, but even after seeing the diagram, I still wasn't sure exactly what it was or how it looked. Checking the comments to see if I could find some additional clarification, there was a lot of disagreement so I finally gave up.

All I really knew was that Mindy would be wearing some type of probably longish dress that really didn't matter and I'd find her somehow.

*****

On Saturday morning, I awoke with butterflies in my stomach, mixed emotions on having plans to attend a technical society meeting with a woman who I wanted to know better, who I might even want to date. Unfortunately, I knew very little about her other than what I'd seen in the jury room and in our very limited conversation after the trial was over, so I didn't know if we'd be at all compatible.

Or, that ever-present little quibble, if she'd even show up.

Taking a chance that she would, my bathroom mirror got a good workout after breakfast as I brushed my teeth and shaved my face smooth. It was a rather ordinary face with no real distinguishing marks but one which Cici had always said was easy to love. I'd tell her that she was rather biased and she'd laugh, saying she knew the truth.

There were a few more lines in my forehead and deeper creases around my eyes since her death, evidence of weariness brought on by troubled nights and deep sadness in addition to the natural passing of time, but the steely blue, almost gray, of the eyes themselves reminded me of my resolve to get through it all and give my girls the best start I could for Cici's sake as well as their own.

The trimmer took care of some stray hairs; I was about to put it away when I decided to do a bit of manscaping for my own personal comfort followed by trimming my nails and getting a good, relaxing shower. I'd been rather shy and uncomfortable around girls when Cici and I met, but she'd taught me that confidence begins by feeling good about oneself, inside and out, before dealing with others.

Since I wasn't feeling all that confident on this Saturday morning, I needed all the help I could get.

I toweled my short, sandy-blond hair dry and dressed, going business casual with khakis and a dark blue polo to contrast with my eyes, and then I did a final check of the mirror prior to going downstairs to face Breanna's inevitable teasing. She and her sister claimed that they wanted me to move on past Cici and be happy, but they had a funny way of proving it to me.

Thinking of that, I looked at the ring on my finger. I was going to the meeting, true, but it was the fact that Mindy would be there was more important in my mind than the meeting itself. As such, I needed to quit letting everything be a reflection on Cici. Nodding to the visage evaluating me in the mirror, I removed my wedding band and set it on the vanity.

I'd have to find a place to keep it since it hadn't been off my finger for more than a few minutes at a time in the nearly 22 years since I first put it on.

With a smile in the mirror that belied a lot more confidence than I was actually feeling, I turned and headed downstairs, only to be greeted by a silly catcall from my younger girl.

*****

As I drove to the park a short time later after dropping Breanna off at the Delanos' house, I again wondered if and worried that Mindy might be pulling my leg about the event. I believed that there was some type of connection between us but there's always a chance that a woman's at least a somewhat accomplished actress with a mean streak. Being rather nerdy in high school, I'd experienced that more than once. Therefore, I told myself if it was a practical joke, however mean, I could always turn around and head home and never mention it to anyone.

It would hurt but not for too long.

I hoped.

However, when I pulled into the park entrance at 8:53, I wasn't disappointed to see a sign that read "SCA Meet ahead." Two more signs with arrows followed and a couple of minutes later, I pulled into a parking lot where there were quite a few cars. Not seeing any other events nearby, I hoped that this turnout was for the SCA meeting and that it meant good things for the profession's future.

It was actually quite exciting in an admittedly nerdy way.

Out of my car, I saw another sign by the sidewalk pointing toward the SCA meet so I walked over to it as another car pulled into the lot. As it did, I heard a clanging noise from somewhere in the distance; it sounded strange and I couldn't figure out what tools would be making the sound.

The park maintenance staff must have a real problem with something.

"Hi, Sam!"

I turned to see Mindy getting out of her little SUV but she reached around to pick up something out of the seat so I walked toward her. When she straightened up and turned toward me, I stopped short, seeing her wearing an honest-to-goodness princess dress that looked like it was straight out of the Middle Ages and nothing at all like the indecipherable thing someone called a princess dress online. She was straightening a princess-type tiara in her pretty brown hair. It was long and wavy in the back but had a braid on both sides that appeared to be tied together over it.

She'd have easily fit in on the set of the Lord of the Rings or of similar fantasy movies or on that of most any other movie or TV show about medieval times.

It wasn't the dress or her hair that took my breath, though. There was no mask in sight and she was smiling and looking quite beautiful at it as she turned, side to side, letting me see the beautiful dress and every one of her even more amazing curves. Truthfully, her face wasn't perfect and she probably wasn't the prettiest woman I'd ever seen, but at that moment, I couldn't think of a single woman anywhere who even came close.

"Wow," I breathed, stopping a few feet away from her. "You look incredible. And I'm guessing we're not here for a ceramic superconductor meeting."

She gave me a sheepish grin. "April Fool's!"

I glanced at that photo of Cici and my girls on my phone and frowned; the line above the time read "Saturday, April 2."

"Today's not April Fool's Day," I deadpanned.

"I know, but yesterday was!"

I laughed then, having been so caught up in the trial and trying to catch up on work on Friday while looking forward to seeing Mindy that I hadn't even thought about April Fool's Day. And here I was completely taken in by it. Furthermore, I couldn't help feeling a bit silly having thought that this many people might show up for a meeting of the Superconducting Ceramics Association, despite having doubted it, but the sheepishness at being taken in so easily despite my doubts was tempered by the presence of an extremely hot girl in a very nice, very cool costume.

"Ha, ha. You got me," I said, smiling. "So if this isn't a meeting of the Superconducting Ceramics Association, what is it? The, ahem, Spectacular Costume Alliance? Because, wow, you look mighty spectacular in that outfit."

The compliment made her happy, and she rose on her tiptoes and turned from side to side so I could see it again, and, I suspected, her filling it just right.

"Oh, thank you, Sam! It really is a meeting of the SCA but this SCA is the Society for Creative Anachronism."

"Woah! The Society for what?"

She repeated it and told me a bit about the society and how members focus on some aspects of medieval cultures such as dress, armored combat, archery, calligraphy, heraldry, dance, and what sounded like alchemy. At some of their meets, in addition to observing or participating in combat, they do demonstrations for skills from the Middle Ages like armor making, arrow fletching, and even cooking.

"How did you get involved in the group?"

"In college. I was an education major at Forstner State with a focus on history, so I went to an open meeting when a fellow D&D player invited me. I was a sophomore then and I kept going back."

"And you played D&D, too," I said, filing that one away for later in lieu of another question. I tried but couldn't recall anyone in my gaming group from long before having ever mentioned the organization. "You're a member of your SCA, so what's your focus? I'm guessing costume-making?"

"That's my favorite area, but I do calligraphy, too, and enjoy medieval dance when I have the right costume and can find a willing partner."

"Let me guess: they're doing dance today and you've got a great dress for it, but you needed a partner? So you tricked me into coming?"

Maybe I said it too seriously, for her effervescent smile faded and she held out her hand toward me. "No, no dance today, but yes, I tricked you to get you here, Sam, and I'm sorry I did that. I was afraid if I asked you outright rather than using the little organization mix-up that you'd turn me down, particularly considering what you'd told me about what you went through after your wife died and what, it seemed to me, that you were still going through. You might call it a nudge--"

"A shove," I corrected.

"--yeah, okay, a shove instead of an invite, but after the way we worked together this week, I really wanted to see you again and, maybe I'm wrong, but I really thought that you were interested too, even if you wouldn't admit it then and won't admit it now."

I could see the emotion in her face as she paused and the care in her eyes. Taking my hand, she added, "Please, Sam, forgive me, and let's take a chance and see where this might go, okay?"

A guy can forgive a whole lot when a girl is wearing a dress like this one and the fact that I'd taken it on faith and never confirmed what her SCA stood for led me to give her hand a little squeeze and nod. "I'll tell you what, Princess Mindy, do one more of those little pirouette-type turns, slowly and all the way around this time, I suspect that would go a long way toward settling the account and I'll probably be putty in your hands."

After all, what she'd done wasn't malicious and she'd shown up, which is more than a lot of girls would do. And, despite all my doubts, I knew I liked her a lot, at least superficially.

She was smiling at me with hope in her eyes and moving immediately, the dress flowing over and around her as she did, I couldn't help but stare, amazed at her grace. I suspected that knights in medieval times would have willingly fought and died for such a prize but here she was doing it for me. That our connection was so tentative but Mindy was willing to make the effort to improve it warmed my heart and made me feel quite fortunate.

My great fortune was threatened then. A couple more cars had pulled in and two guys wearing suits of homemade armor and a third guy wearing what might have been a nobleman's outfit came walking up from the cars as she was doing her turn for me.

One whistled and another called out, "Looking good, Mindy!"

She waved to them but it thrilled me that it seemed more like a dismissal rather than an inviting response to their silliness. Indeed, her pretty brown eyes were focused on me and she was smiling in my direction the whole time she did it, adding what I guessed were some dance steps at the end and, again, doing it for me, for my pleasure.

Considering how much effort had gone into the dress and however much exercise she had to do to stay in such great shape, I suspected she knew exactly how good she looked in the dress.

And, I guessed, out of it.

I blushed at the final thought. "Incredible," I murmured. "Did you make this dress? It looks--"

I was at a loss for words. Appropriate ones, anyway, so I continued, "absolutely amazing on you."

Based on the smile she gave me, they must have been the right words, for governor's orders and COVID be damned, she stepped up to me and threw her arms around me, squeezing that bodice and the delights it contained against me.

"Thank you, Sam! It took about 18 months to make, with everything except the materials being made by hand. I have a number of other period costumes that I've made that I wear to meets and festivals, though I used a sewing machine on most of them. I knew this one would be one of my favorites so I wanted it to be as authentic as it could be."

She felt great in my arms and I had to fight the deep stirring that had largely been missing since Cici's passing. While I'd relieved tension from time to time since her death, I'd mostly focused on memories of times with her rather than on raw sex for sex's sake. Suddenly, I knew that might not be the case anymore.

Suddenly, I wondered if Mindy--

No! I barely knew her and such thoughts weren't--

"Want to go explore and see some of the demonstrations with me?" she asked, bringing me out of my ridiculous reverie. I nodded like one of those old bobbing ostrich toys so she took my arm and led me on the way.

The intermittent clanging sounds--swords, I reasoned on finally knowing the context of the event--grew louder as we neared, and more people were coming to the big picnic pavilion and its surroundings from several directions. I was surprised at the number of attendees--probably fifty to sixty in total over the next little while--and the number of "booths" in the pavilion set up for demonstrations and sale of period-like merchandise. We visited the first few and it reminded me of a renaissance "faire" that Cici and I had taken the girls to some years before her passing.

Dressed in her princess outfit, Mindy was a star, with people complimenting her on it and some asking if she would be doing a calligraphy demonstration.

"Thanks, but not today. I'm here with my Lord Samuel, who's considering auditioning to be my new prince."

While it thrilled me to hear her say that, it was also surprising and more than a bit embarrassing. I must have been as red as I felt because she giggled and squeezed my arm before kissing the side of my head and adding at a whisper, "And, more importantly, I'm auditioning to be his new princess because he's already pretty much captured me. If he wants me, I mean."

Another little kiss followed before she pulled my hand as I wondered where this thing between us might be going. "Looks like some of the folks are still setting up. Want to go check out the melee? I'd like to show you some more and introduce you to a few people afterward."

The knights in the combat ring were dressed in what might have been medieval armor if plastics had existed at the time, but there were a number of metal parts, too, and the swords looked real, though Mindy assured me they were blunt and that the knights were pulling their blows, though it could still hurt if someone accidentally connected.

"A lot of guys, and a few girls, build their suits of armor, replacing a piece or two at a time as they can afford it. I'm not sure if Chet Pinellas will be here today, but the last time I saw him, he was down to three or four pieces that he needed to upgrade to have a full suit. Let's go meet Chill; he's a real blacksmith who doubles as an armorer; he actually makes pieces for some of the folks in our Barony and beyond."

She gave a brief explanation of the SCA governance system as we walked back to the pavilion. When she saw the thoroughly confused look on my face, she laughed and pulled me along to a table at the far corner where a huge black guy was now sitting.

"Mindy! You finished it and it looks great!" he said, standing up to his full nearly 7-foot height. He put his hand on top of her head and seemed to slowly spin her around, sort of like a basketball.

She complied, turning all the way around before giving him a hug. "Chill, this is my friend, Samuel Thomason. Sam, this is my friend Chill Asbury, our blacksmith and armorer."

The name struck a bell. "Wait a second! Chilton Asbury? You were the starting center for Forstner State a few years ago when you guys beat our local team in the tournament, weren't you?" While I'd never been that interested but remembered a lot of messages from our university about making it in. We'd exited just as quickly thanks in no small part to Chilton Asbury.

Chill and Mindy were both nodding, leading to another bell going off in my head. "You guys were in school together, too, weren't you."

Mindy nodded again. "And Chill would have done great things in the NBA if he hadn't blown out his knee like two games later."

"It works," he said, pointing to his right knee, "but not well enough for the rigors of the NBA and I didn't want to risk being crippled for the rest of my life to earn the few bucks the one team that was willing to take a chance on it were willing to offer me. Therefore, now I'm a high school English teacher and assistant basketball coach here in the city and I use the skills my granddad taught me when I was a kid in my blacksmith shop."

Looking down, I saw what looked like the makings of chain mail on the table. "Wow. Did he teach you how to make armor too?"

"Oh, no," he laughed. "I had to learn that from books and a lot of experimenting before I got it right. A lot of us in SCA enjoy doing research and then creating what we've discovered. If you're interested, I'll show you."

I was so he spent the next few minutes showing me how to set up to make rings, to separate them, and to join them together in a mesh.

"I'm using a European weave with butted links here, but this," he said, reaching into a bin under the table, "is a piece of a European weave for a riveted hauberk that I've been working on for the last couple of years. It's a lot of work to flatten links and insert a wire rivet, but it's a lot stronger than the end-butted type. Back in the day, only really wealthy lords could afford riveted links. Kings sometimes used double rings instead of single--"

He pushed another small sample with two rings in place of each in the riveted sample. These were end-butted, I noted.

"--but those could take years to make and Lord help the king who put on weight after taking the throne!"

He and Mindy chatted for a few moments while I admired his work. As I looked up, another woman approached and Mindy was off to give her a hug.

"That's Emma, my wife," explained Chill. "She and Mindy were roommates in college. Em wasn't into gaming or this type of thing back then, but she became more interested when Mindy introduced us." He chuckled. "She's still not into gaming but she enjoys our SCA meets and some of the faires we attend and Mindy's been helping her with a costume. I play a Saracen blacksmith at a couple of Renaissance Faires and she comes sometimes to play my wife."

The women were talking about Mindy's dress and Emma's costume when Chill and I walked over for introductions. Afterward, Emma said, "Sam, don't you love her outfit?" When I gushed over it, she added, "And I'll bet you like her other one too."

"Oh, I didn't know you were making another one," I said.

Mindy gave her friend a friendly little scowl but laughed when she looked back at me. "I'm not making one right now, I'm making four, but I am getting close to being finished with one of them."

"Well, Mindy, you need to come over for lunch sometime soon and help out on mine," said Emma. "The Eastview faire opens in three weeks and I'm behind."

They agreed to meet the next weekend before we said goodbye and Mindy took me to a few other tables to see the demonstrations and crafts as we heard renewed clanging. Over in the lists, another set of combatants were going after each other.

We finished visiting a few of the remaining "booths" in the pavilion and spent a few minutes watching another melee before Mindy looked at her phone.

"Sam, it's about 10:30 now. We can stay to watch if you'd like, or you can come over to my place to give me an opinion on my other costume and I'll fix you lunch as a reward."

I liked Mindy a lot and was enjoying spending time with her, so I was willing to be extremely flexible. "I know about as much about fashion as I did about chainmail before Chill's explanation and demonstration," I laughed, "so I don't know how much help I'll be."

Glancing down at my feet for a moment, I took a deep breath to calm myself, before looking back at her and continuing, "I'm enjoying spending time with you and getting to know you, so I'll be glad to do whatever I can to help you and I'd love to have lunch with you too. We can do it at your place or I'll be glad to take you somewhere so you don't have to cook. As long as I can pick up my girls by 4, I'm fine with whatever suits you."

Taking my arm in hers, she led me away, saying goodbye to a few people as we walked. "I think you'll be plenty of help with my outfit," she said, smiling up at me, "and we can decide what to do about lunch after that."

We agreed and she gave me her address and phone number in case I got lost following her. She lived about six or seven miles from my house and closer to the city than I did so it wouldn't be too far out of the way for me on my way to get my daughters.

To my surprise when I opened her car door for her, she turned and kissed me, full on the lips. We'd both received a COVID vaccine the previous summer when they became available to us so I didn't think there was a lot of risk despite what the governor and his damned mask mandate said, but it was still surprising and especially pleasant, not having been kissed like that in so long. My arms encircled her, pulling her tight against me, and I'm not sure how long we stayed that way before separating, both of us nearly breathless.

"Wow, Sam. Please don't get lost, and be sure to use your GPS if you do," she said with a wink before giving me one more little kiss on the cheek and getting into her car.

She drove conservatively and didn't run yellow lights so I succeeded in keeping her in sight all the way to her condo. She looked relieved when I parked in the guest space next to her car. A moment later, she took my hand and led me inside.

"Make yourself at home," she said, waving toward the living room. "Can I get you something to drink? Water, soda, beer, left-over cab from last night?" She laughed on saying the last one. "I was grading history papers for the test my substitute administered while we were on jury duty, and believe me, I needed it! It's a wonder there's any left."

We shared the cabernet sauvignon sitting on the couch together with Mindy only inches from me, her feet under her with the princess dress tucked around her legs. She told me about herself, married a couple of years after college out west.

"It hurt the first time he cheated, but he claimed it was a mistake and wouldn't happen again. I warned him and forgave him, and things seemed better for a couple of years, so much so that I started bringing up having children, but he wanted to put it off and I started suspecting he was having another affair, a long-term one this time. I never proved the second one but I didn't care to find out because it didn't matter legally and I was becoming increasingly disillusioned about him and his willingness for us to be partners and parents. We divorced a couple of years ago and I tried to start over but it didn't work. I wanted to find love again, to marry and have a family, but I had trouble readjusting so I decided to leave everything behind and start over for real."

"Why'd you pick this area?"

"Emma and Chill were here and I'd enjoyed it when I came to visit them a few years ago. Emma was over the moon when I told her I was considering applying at one of the local school systems, and she sent me info on four others nearby! I applied to all five, picked the offer I liked, and bought this place--the down payment anyway--from my share of the split on our old house."

"You're here now, but do you ever talk to your ex?"

She guffawed. "About what? Who he's cheating on and who he's cheating with now? Believe me, it's not my problem anymore or my concern."

"Sorry," I said, feeling for her hurt.

"What about you and Cici? You said you met in college?"

I gave Mindy a short version, how we'd met freshman year when she responded to an ad I placed on the campus' online board about a new D&D campaign I planned to run. I was taken by her from the start, and got to know her better over the first few gaming sessions. To my surprise, she readily agreed to go out with me when I asked her, and a few weeks later, we were an official couple.

"We married after our junior year of college but waited several years and through a lot of planning and practice before having Bethany. Breanna, on the other hand, was a complete surprise."

"That's that way it is sometimes," she said with a smile.

It felt so right, just sitting together and talking as we sipped our wine. I told her about Cici's death and how hard it had been. "Three years have passed as I tried to deal with it and be strong for the girls, but it's been really lonely. I started thinking about moving on right before COVID hit, but it's only been in the past few months that I've finally realized that she would have wanted me to let go and be happy and actually not felt guilty about it."

Mindy was looking at me, nodding. "She loved you so much that's exactly what she would have wanted. My mom was like that with my dad, mourning him for years until one day she realized that he wouldn't have wanted her clinging to him and being sad all the time. She'd been remarried for the past five years and is happier than she ever was over eight years before that."

Looking at our wine, I saw we both had just a sip left. I put my glass up to hers and said, "Here's to forever love but knowing when to let go when life doesn't last that long."

She clinked her glass against mine. "Well said." We drained the last bit in our glasses, and she asked, "Want another glass? I'll be glad to open another bottle."

"No, I'm fine, thank you. I'm good right here with you." And that was the truth, enjoying our time together and feeling relaxed and happy.

She nodded. "Me, too, but if I know anything about men, you'll be getting hungry before too long. Let me go change out of this dress and into my other outfit. I need help with the skirt length, and then we'll get something to eat in a bit, okay?"

I agreed so she kissed me, another delicious kiss that threatened to awaken long dormant desires. Her soft lips played over mine and her tongue darted in, probing and withdrawing, eliciting a surprisingly hungry little moan from me. That caused her to grin as she pulled away.

"There's a picture album over on the shelf if you want to see a little about young Mindy. I'll be back in a few."

I took her suggestion, thumbing through the album, seeing Mindy from being a tiny baby to adulthood, and learning more about her life in the pictures. There were some photos of her with her little brother--Adam, according to the writing on the birthday cake in one of the photos--and her parents before her father stopped appearing, having passed away far too young as she'd mentioned.

She'd removed most of the photos of her ex-husband, though I think I saw him in a few group photos where removing the photo would have hurt the good memory with others even more.

I was looking at the last couple of pages when Mindy, back in the room, asked, "What do you think?"

I looked up and, shocked, let the photo album slip from my fingertips to slide off my lap and crash to the floor. My eyes were wide and my mouth was hanging wide open as I looked at her wearing a chainmail bikini, a lambda-shaped mail skirt, and high-heeled, above-the-knee leather boots, black and shiny and complete with a cuff at the top. The braids at the sides now gone, her hair hung down, wavy, falling on her shoulders and down her back. Then I realized that what she was holding in her left hand was a wide leather belt with a sword in a scabbard.

"Oh my God!" I breathed, my eyes trying to focus only on her face but unable to look away from the big pink areolas and nipples clearly visible through the interconnecting links. I wouldn't have dreamed of saying it but the words slipped out anyway, "Ho-ly fuck!"

"You don't like it," she said, her wide smile disappearing and her face falling into a pout. "Oh, God, Sam, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean..."

She turned away but I called out, "No! No! I love it! I'm in shock is all, but I love it."

Looking over her shoulder, I saw a hint of a smile. "Really?"

A black string was visible from the top of her butt crack, disappearing under the mail-covered leather belt that held up the skirt. Really nice, really amazing ass cheeks peeked out from under the edge of the mail that tapered down to cover the outer sides of her legs.

"God, yes," I said, "so much so I'm not going to get up right now or you'd see just how much."

Yes, in just an instant, I was harder than I'd been since Cici died, my cock straining to break through my zipper. Or maybe out the top of my pants?

She laughed, taking a peek at my bulging crotch, somewhat hidden from being seated, and then she was turning like she'd done with the princess dress earlier.

Though it was a bra, the chainmail top didn't offer the best support and her tits, a little larger than I would have suspected, looked so lovely as they swayed in it. When she turned back toward me, I got a nice glimpse of the black G-string in front--a black lace G-string--before the sides of the skirt shifted to mostly cover it again. She continued rotating around, still swaying, dance-like, and I saw those buttocks again and a creamy thigh before it closed and she circled back around to stop, facing me.

"So what do you think?"

"That looks amazing," I said, trying to breathe. "Wow. You know, back in the day when I played Dungeons & Dragons, we called that peek-a-boo armor, though I never dreamed that I'd live to see a set in person."

Mindy gave a deep, delighted laugh, making those bikini links shake entrancingly and making it so difficult for me to take my eyes off of them.

"Sam, I think everybody called it peek-a-boo armor. I originally started making this as a surprise for my husband but that changed when he had his affair; I put it away for years, and only got it out again after the divorce, finishing it for me that I might share it and myself with someone other than him someday. It's not quite finished--I really do need advice on the length on the sides, knee-level like it is now or further down my calves?--but you're the only person other than Emma who's ever seen it and you're the only person who's ever seen it on me."

"Mindy, I'm honored. And I really am as hard as a rock," I laughed. "It's super sexy and looks incredible on you. The whole thing. I'd leave it the length you have it if you're planning to wear the boots with it. They're, wow, incredibly sexy too."

Coming closer, she leaned toward me and whispered with a giggle, "My ex called them my 'fuck-me' boots."

I laughed aloud and whispered back, "Sweetheart, I think everybody calls them that."

She laughed too and then moved in beside me on the couch, pushing me back and running her hand over my crotch, confirming that my claim was true.

"You really do like it? And think it's sexy?"

"Mindy, I've shopped for women's lingerie that wasn't as hot as this."

That made her beam and I smiled, too, wondering if this was really happening or if I would wake up in the damn jury box having dreamed everything that had happened over the last few days.

With her leaning against me, I felt the cold of the steel links and the weight of her breast and body pressed against my chest, enjoying every moment and delighting in the fact that it was real rather than a dream. Mindy's hand stroked my crotch again before she moved it up to touch my cheek and take my chin in hand. Leaning in and turning my head a bit, she kissed me and the world felt right; a wave of happiness seemed to sweep over me as her tongue slipped between my lips and began to dance with mine. A hint of perfume mingled with the smell of her hair and my eyes closed, losing myself in the moment with her.

She sighed happily and I followed suit when we parted before we smiled and looked into each other's eyes.

"Sam, I've been dreaming of this since we were in the jury room deliberating the other day, until I saw your wedding ring, anyway. The way you started understanding my position and then stood up for me with the other jurors, that really turned me on after not being turned on by much of anything for such a long time. That's really unusual for me but it's like you relit the fire that had been extinguished so long ago and I've been smoldering ever since, wondering what it would be like to be with you. Now I feel like a roaring flame. Do you want to make love to me? And do it in this?"

Some months earlier, I might have said "no" because my heart was still tied to Cici, as much as I'd tried to let go, but I'd finally succeeded and now I nodded. "Oh, very much so. But..."

"What's wrong?"

"It's not wrong. It's just that I hope it will be good for you. I don't have, ah, a lot of experience." That wasn't something we'd discussed.

"What do you mean?" she asked with a frown. "You mean you didn't have sex with Cici?"

"I didn't mean with her; we did it all the time. I meant with other women. Other than with her," I said, looking down and feeling rather embarrassed, "I don't have any experience."

Mindy's hand caressed my cheek, bringing my eyes back up to meet hers. "She was your first? And your only?"

"Yeah, and I was hers. We both originally planned to wait until we met the right person and married but we fell head-over-heels in love and knew we'd found that right person in really short order so the whole 'waiting thing' didn't last very long after that."

I was smiling at that and Mindy tried to suppress a grin, happy for me or maybe happier for herself at what that probably meant.

"Once we got started," I continued, "we tried practically everything once and a whole lot more if we liked it. I mentioned lingerie; I only bought sexy lingerie for her too, never for anyone else." The sweet memories warmed my heart and I realized I was biting my lip before quickly letting go.

Mindy giggled and nodded. "That's really sweet but I don't think you're doing yourself justice. You said you did it a lot with her, and tried a lot, so you probably have as much experience as most people, just with one dedicated partner rather than a lot of different ones. You don't get the variety of feedback that way, but different people enjoy different things and have different fetishes anyway, so it probably doesn't matter since it sounds like she enjoyed variety. Sam, I hope you'll share some of that experience with me and let me share myself with you, too."

She paused for a moment and made sure I was looking her in the eyes before she added, "I mean, if you're ready?"

What she said made a lot of sense; Cici and I had been together for nearly three years when we married following our junior year of college and remained together for nearly nineteen years after that. Making a conservative estimate of the number of times we'd made love per year times about twenty-two years meant that we'd done it thousands of times, even if our so-called "number" was just one each. That relieved my concern on whether I might not be good enough; the risk would be the same if the number of women I'd had sex with was one or twenty, since, as she said, different people have different tastes.

That brought me to the real question about being ready--not to leave Cici behind because fate and a bad ticker had determined that--but whether I was ready to be with Mindy even if only for a little while. Having thought of her all week, I knew the answer even without the throbbing in my pants.

Nodding and giving her a smile as I put my hand on her arm, I said, "Mindy, I'm ready and I want you."

"Good," she breathed. "I won't need the sword then. Not that it's sharp..."

She must have pushed the sword and scabbard off the little table because it fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

Giggling, she gave me a little kiss and then stood up, holding my hand as she led me to her bedroom. As I followed right behind her, I enjoyed the view of that chainmail skirt swaying over her naked buttocks while being amused at something so completely impractical being so damn sexy.

She stopped by the bed and turned toward me, moving in to kiss me as her hands undid my belt and pulled my polo shirt out of my pants, over my head, and sent flying. She gave my hand a little swat when I tried to help with my pants, saying, "I've got this, please?"

I nodded and let her work, quite efficiently, and I was totally nude with a massive hard-on pointing up in seconds before Mindy dropped to her knees and looked up into my eyes. One soft hand encircled my shaft while the other cupped below, sliding over me and making me shiver. Her lips touched the front of my little head, her tongue flicked, and then she engulfed me, taking me deep in her mouth.

It felt incredible as she sucked me, my length sliding in and out as she bobbed, her eyes locked on mine except for a few seconds when she tried to take me deep and came up cough-laughing and catching her breath.

"I'm out of practice, too," she laughed, "but maybe sometime soon?"

"Oh, God!" I sighed as she went back down on me, even deeper than before. She wasn't at risk of swallowing my whole length but it felt amazing as she bobbed, her cheeks hollowing in time as she pumped me with two fingers and her thumb while still caressing my balls with the other hand."

"Mindy, this feels wonderful, but it's been a while and I'm not going to be able to hold out much longer. You better...."

She didn't let go but her eyes and a shake of her head told me that she wouldn't be stopping and that I should just shut up and enjoy the rise. For rising I was, feeling my balls tingling, tightening deep inside, the pressure building up to the inevitable, explosive conclusion. I moaned as I tried to hold it just a little longer, making it a little more intense, before gasping, "Mindy, I'm about to come!"

I think she nodded as we looked at each other but she definitely signaled for me to "Come on" (or maybe it was just "Come!") with a wave of three fingers. That was all it took and I exploded, sending blast after blast into her mouth as a great feeling of euphoria swept through me. I was delightfully light-headed as Mindy emptied my cock like she'd emptied my balls, swallowing everything I'd given her.

"Oh, Mindy, that was incredible," I panted as I sat back on the edge of the bed and pulled her up off the floor. We fell back together, my arms around her as I pulled her tight against me. I kissed her and she moaned, happily, into my mouth. That didn't last long though, for we both needed air.

"Whew. I'm really glad you enjoyed it, Sam. I've been wanting to do that all week too."

"I must admit that wasn't on my radar," I laughed, "but we can do that any time you like."

"Good. You can come on my tits some other time if you'd prefer, but this bikini was too much work so I don't want to get stuff all over and cause it to rust!" she laughed.

Yes, that bikini looked awfully good on her and rust would not be good. Of course, I was admiring her beauties, too, so maybe I could glaze them sometime if she wished.

"I can breathe again, so it's my time to give you a turn, if you don't mind?"

"Sam, that's the other thing I've been dreaming about. If you don't mind?"

Excited about what I was about to do and do for her, I kissed her one more time while holding a handful of lovely, soft tit encased in cold, hard steel. Moving her back to her bed, I eased her down and kissed my way down her tummy before shifting under the chainmail skirt to kiss up her legs.

I chuckled when I realized I'd forgotten about her sexy fuck-me boots that covered most everything down below that the split skirt didn't. With her on her back and her head propped up to watch me with a grin covering her face, I kept trying to keep the pliable cuff at the top of the boots down low while trying to keep the mail skirt from falling down in the way. It was quite distracting so I had to watch what I was trying to do for a few seconds before looking up to see Mindy trying to keep from laughing.

"Here, you got the point, but I think it's time for the skirt to get out of the way." She showed me how to remove a mail flap to access the belt buckle and moments later, the skirt fell away to the sides. I pulled as she raised herself up and the skirt slipped off the bed to land on the hardwood floor with a loud clinky, clumpy noise and the sound of laughter from us.

"You can take my boots off, too, if you'd like. They zip in the back."

I gave her a little frown. "Take off your fuck-me boots? Not a fucking chance." I couldn't hold the frown and it changed to a grin.

We both laughed but Mindy gave a little moan a second later as I kissed her thigh just above the cuff and kept going. The lace G-string she was still wearing was sexy as hell, allowing me to see a little patch of hair just above the top of her hood but nothing down below since some idiot had decided there needed to be a little piece of black cloth to act as a gusset and general cock blocker. I was kissing and nibbling all around, making Mindy squirm as she waited for me to get where she wanted.

Sliding my tongue under the edge of the fabric, I flicked what I could a few times as she ran her fingers through my hair, but her frustration seemed to peak then. She let go with one hand and used it to pull the little panty to the side and then pulled me in where she wanted with the other. She was moaning seconds later and even louder when I doubled up, working her clit with my tongue and lips and her G-spot with my fingers.

It was a wonderful feeling, hearing her moans mingled with periods of calling out my name and other times breathing words that I'd never expect to hear her say in polite company. I'm not sure how many times she came over the next little while, but I kept going as long as she was expressive, only stopping when she finally slumped, too tired, I suspected, to take any more.

I gave one last little kiss to her swollen dot and then moved up beside her to hold her tight against me.

"Oh, Sam," she whispered, looking as lost in her euphoria as I'd been in mine just a little earlier. Her face was so relaxed, her eyes closed as she snuggled against me. "Thank you. You were wonderful," she added, almost at a mumble.

I kissed the top of her head and then dropped my head back on the pillow. It was so pleasant, just holding my arms around her as we lay there on the bed, the smell of her hair like flowers in spring.

*****

I awoke to see her smiling at me as her hand traveled up and down what was currently the top of my again-rigid cock.

"What a lovely way to wake up, particularly considering I didn't mean to fall asleep on you," I said.

"I wouldn't know because I was out like a light almost as soon as I felt your arms around me. Now, we've got to make a choice. You said you had to pick your daughters up this afternoon; we can either get up and let me cook lunch for you or we can sizzle together right here?"

I looked in her eyes and then let my own trail slowly down the curves of her body as she leaned atop me. Seeing what she was doing with her hand and what lay beyond, I smiled and asked, "Does the fact that you're doing that and that you still have your boots on give me a hint as to which you'd prefer?"

"Don't ever let it be said that my Juror Nineteen isn't one smart cookie," she laughed. "If that's what you want, I mean. Oh, and I'm on the pill so..."

Her eyebrows raised suggestively as she trailed off told me she wanted it just as much as I did so I leaned up to kiss her and then grabbed her and rolled us sideways. She yelped in surprise and maybe a bit of fear, but I was careful not to squash her or dislocate any of her joints in our maneuver. Shifting down a little, I felt my cock trapped between us so with one more shift down her body, I slipped free and found myself pressed against her smoothness. Mindy dropped a hand to direct me inside, and it didn't take much of a push before I was all the way in, earning a delightful sigh and a beautiful smile that reached her eyes.

However, I couldn't imagine that what she was feeling could possibly be any better than feeling her sweet, slick walls caressing my length as I entered and doing it in reverse as I withdrew. Her arms slipped around my shoulders and onto my back where her fingertips explored and caressed me as she leaned up to kiss me. She moaned and so did I as we rocked together, becoming lovers.

With Mindy having emptied me a little earlier, I smiled as she scaled one peak and then another while I still had plenty of mountain to climb. Watching her face as she fought the first and then just succumbed to the second made me smile again. Then, to my surprise, she was pushing me over and climbing atop me for some buckaroo-style action, lowering and raising herself over me for a bit before dropping into the saddle to rock forward and back on me. With what she had experienced, I could see her visibly tiring so it wasn't long before I offered to take over again.

She eased off onto her hands and knees and pointed her rear toward me as she looked back over her shoulder. With her legs spread and the tops of those boots just inches from heaven, she wiggled her ass at me, giving me a good view of it and her lovely, already-well-loved labia lips gaped open slightly, as if inviting me back in. Then she grinned and said, "My legs aren't nearly as strong as they were when I was on the Forstner State dance team, but they should be strong enough and my ass padded enough to take a really good pounding if you're interested."

Oh, was I interested!

I leaned forward to kiss her shoulder and neck, tracing a finger along the links of her strap and under to briefly cup her mail-covered breast and give it a little squeeze. We grinned at each other as the links clinked lightly as they moved back into place when I let go and then I was gripping her hips and pushing inside. After a few strokes to make sure she was well lubricated, I was soon pounding against her for all I was worth.

"Oh, yes, Sam, yes! Oh, God! Yes!" she moaned. "Oh, fuck!"

Mindy was bracing herself and giving me a lot more encouragement so I did as she asked, giving it hard, fast, and deep. However, it wasn't long before her arms gave out and the side of her face was planted in the sheet as I continued on, bringing her, I believed to at least one more orgasm as I felt mine coming on. However, with me holding her hips to brace her, I felt her sag and knew she couldn't take any more so I eased out and let down on the bed, not sure if she was done or not.

To my surprise, she rolled over and spread her legs, pulling me toward her so I entered her one last time. Her boots encircled me as she pulled me against her and I continued loving her, slow and steady at first but harder and faster as I felt my own eruption coming. When I couldn't control it any more, I buried myself deep within her and exploded, feeling pulse after pulse shoot into her as a wave of such joy and pleasure swept through me.

I opened my eyes to realize that Mindy was holding me tight against her and that she was kissing the side of my head, my neck, and my shoulder. "Oh, Sam, that was incredible. I don't think I've ever come even half that many times." Then she chuckled and said, "And believe me, you had absolutely nothing to worry about."

We lay on the bed again for a bit, this time snuggling and kissing a little, but not until after I helped her out of her chainmail bikini and those seemingly-magical boots. Since I hadn't gotten to earlier, she let me hold her pretty titties and kiss her nipples a bit before she warned me off.

"If you keep that up, you'll never get out of here and then you'll be in trouble with your girls. They'll blame me for you being late, they'll hate me, and I'll never get another shot with you."

I laughed. "You're partially right. If I were to keep that up, I wouldn't want to get out of here anytime soon but I know I have to go soon. I hope you'll let me see you again soon though, and that we can keep getting to know each other better without you having to trick me to do it next time, though I'm so glad you did today."

She tittered. "I'm really looking forward to it, Sam. And no more tricks, I promise."

Seeing her rather impish look and her right and oddly placed behind her back, I pointed and said, "Let me see your hand, please."

Suddenly looking rather sheepish rather than devilish, she pulled out her hand for me to see two crossed fingers. "Unless they're good, sweet tricks," she giggled.

*****

Breanna looked strangely at me on getting into the car when I picked her up and Bethany did, too, just minutes later when she got in. They looked at each other before looking at me. "Daddy, you hugged that girl today," accused Bethany, sniffing.

"What?" I asked, not admitting that they were technically correct, that Mindy and I had hugged in addition to all of the other things we did. I'd even taken a quick shower in her bathroom to make sure I didn't smell bad before collecting the girls, but I hadn't considered that using her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash would leave me smelling far more like her than my usual self. Or maybe it really was just a lingering hint of her perfume when we hugged and kissed, rather extensively, to say goodbye. Remembering that, I nodded and said, "It wasn't really a date, but the woman with the princess dress from my jury and I got along really well today and may see each other again soon."

"Yay!" shouted both of my girls. "Can we meet her? Can we?"

"Girls, we just started dating. Just one date that wasn't technically even a date. Though I think it went great, our relationship might not work out, so I don't want the two of you to expect too much or get attached or anything."

Breanna, riding shotgun for probably the first time ever since I'd picked her up first, looked at me, back at her sister, and then at me again. Sounding like she was a good bit older than her actual 11 years, "Dad, you don't get it. We know you might not get married, but we want to meet her and make sure she's good enough for you before you do something dumb like falling in love with her."

At the time, I smiled, proud of my girls, knowing how smart they were and how well they'd adapted since the very troubled times following their mother's death. While I'd greatly enjoyed my encounter with Mindy and knew that I liked her a lot, I knew there was more that we didn't know about each other than we did, so I didn't expect I'd be doing anything "dumb" like Breanna had implied.

Anytime soon, anyway.

However, two things happened to change that.

As Mindy and I continued seeing each other, beginning with a long video-phone conversation that same evening after the girls were in bed, we found more and more in common as we got to know each other better. Almost as important--or maybe it was more so?--my girls liked her from the start and became big supporters in her corner. They did everything possible to make it easier for Mindy and me to date, including, I suspected, inviting themselves to spend the night with friends far more frequently than ever before.

In the end, Breanna's initial comment sounded more like a prophecy than her intended warning and Mindy and I each apparently missed our saving throw, the ubiquitous role-playing dice roll to avoid something, and fell in love. Mindy brought it up, saying it was the first time she'd ever been glad to miss such a roll, and it became a running joke between us.

We married right after the school year ended just over a year later with the girls' blessings. While they still missed their mother, Mindy had become their friend and trusted advisor as well as their new stepmother.

*****

Mindy's mom and step-dad flew in and my parents drove up from Florida for our wedding. Afterward, my parents stayed with the girls for a few days while Mindy and I flew to the Bahamas for a short honeymoon.

There, we enjoyed some time on the beach, a sailing and snorkeling excursion, and a number of romantic dinners together in addition to a bit of exploring around Nassau, but we spent a lot more time than we'd expected inside our suite making love with Mindy in and out of her cuffed, thigh-high boots.

Due to the weight and the potential for rust in the salty-sea air, her chainmail bikini didn't make the trip.

With Mindy now 35 and me being 44, we also made a conscious decision to leave her birth control pills at home when we packed for our honeymoon. Maybe it took a little while for the pills to wear off or maybe it was that her cycle wasn't quite right, but she wasn't pregnant when we flew home despite all of our lovemaking on the trip.

Mindy's summer break from school passed and she still wasn't pregnant, so I'd begun to wonder if I needed to go get tested to see if my little swimmers were still okay. When I raised the issue with my dad, he laughed and told me that it took my mom six months of his very diligent, almost-nightly trying to get pregnant with me.

"Just enjoy the ride while it lasts, son, and don't worry," he told me during one of our calls. "If she's anything like your mother was, Mindy will be pregnant and nauseous as can be before long and you two will be missing out on your current fun for a while."

Despite him giving me a little too much information, I took Dad's advice and enjoyed each and every time Mindy and I made love, even the precautions we were taking and funny post-coital positions she was using to hopefully "optimize" our chances of her getting pregnant.

We were enjoying ourselves late one evening a few days after school started, with Mindy, wearing her fuck-me boots and that chainmail bikini, riding atop me while I was thrusting up into her for all I was worth. She was leaning forward, bracing herself with her hands on my shoulders, her wavy hair dangling down as her mail-confined breasts swayed just inches from my face, giving me a wonderful view as she smiled at me.

As we continued our loving, Mindy's face slowly shifted to a mask of concentration as I drove up into her, her eyes closing tight and her barely audible whimpers coming short and fast, until she suddenly seemed to deflate, collapsing forward onto my chest, allowing me to let fly with great pleasure and fill her with yet another dose of what I hoped would turn out to be Sam's Baby-Making Elixir.

"I love you, Sam," she whispered as the side of her face rested against mine.

"I love you, too, Mindy," I replied, feeling so fortunate to have both been selected to the jury so we could meet and even luckier that we'd fallen in love in the time afterward. "You know, this probably isn't the best position for my little guys, though. Maybe we should roll you over a bit so they're not having to swim quite so upstream."

She laughed. "I'm flat on top of my sweet, wonderful man, so I'm not sure it's really 'upstream' if you think about it. Besides...."

She paused for a moment as she rose up a bit and stretched to reach into the drawer of her nightstand beside our bed. As she did, I watched her move and smiled about the sexy chainmail bikini and skirt that she'd used as an excuse to get me to come over, and more importantly, to stay.

Mindy repositioned herself on the bed next to me and then raised her hand. Holding a little stick up so I could see the + sign, she grinned and said, "that doesn't matter now anyway. I got this reading just before we came to bed tonight. Congratulations, daddy! We're having a baby!"

The End

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Endnotes:

Thanks for reading and for your ratings and any favorites, follows, and comments. All are greatly appreciated.

The Society for Creative Anachronism is a real organization that I've tried to do justice based on some online research and memories of a couple of discussions with a college friend who was a member back in the day. The American Society of Mechanical Engineers and the American Ceramic Society are also real professional organizations.

On the other hand, the Superconducting Ceramics Association is entirely a figment of my imagination.