Hooked Up

This one grew out of "The Thrill Is Gone." TTIG used the expression "hooked up" a couple of times, and that gave me the idea.

Thought this would be a cute little homage. But instead, it turned into something else.

**********

The whole family was there to celebrate my 75th birthday. Right beside me was my beautiful wife, the love of my life. Our children and grandchildren gathered around. Probably none of them believed I'd be able to blow out all 75 candles, but I managed to. Sure, it took a few separate breaths. That would have been the case when I was 57, too. Laughter and applause greeted this achievement, and then slices were cut and distributed.

As we were enjoying the cake, my older son, Don, asked me, "Dad, what is the secret to life?"

A pretty profound question. But then, 75 is a pretty profound age. So such a serious ask deserved a considered response. So I thought for a few moments, and then said:

"I don't know that I know what the secret to life is. But I can tell you that I do know the secret to MY life."

And then thought back...

**********

My name, it's Stanton Thomas. I go by Stan. Wouldn't you?

Guess my parents, both of whom were lawyers, figured that "esquire" or "attorney-at-law" would fit perfectly after that given name.

That's how they were, setting me, my younger brother (by two years) and baby sister (two years after bro) up for legal careers. For the younger two, it took. And at first, that's how it seemed to be going with me, too.

What threw me off track was something which actually at first seemed to weld me more firmly to it. I became fascinated with the US Presidency, and decided I wanted to be in that number when the votes came marching in.

So it was going to be lawyer, then politician, and then becoming the POTUS. Though I probably wasn't going to be one of those charismatic barn burners like FDR or JFK, I might be able to get in through the inside, like Truman or LBJ.

Anyway, by the time I got to college, I knew that my major would be Political Science, followed by a strong LSAT score, then off to law school and after that, passing the bar.

PoliSci was mostly bullshit. But then, that's what you go to college for. If you haven't learned the crap you need to know in high school, you're shit out of luck.

Since the whole idea of "political science" is to make something which isn't scientific at all into a pseudo-science, one of the major's requirements was to take a course in statistics. And it was in that class that I met a blonde goddess named Lacey. Lacey Thompson.

Yeah, we would have sat next to each other in elementary school. Well, it wasn't. But that didn't stop me, along with every other straight male in the class, from worshipping this goddess from a distance.

Because the professor was lazy, she assigned project pairings by last names. As a result, it was my good fortune to get paired with Lacey. So we got to know each other while yoked together on this assignment.

Each team was to replicate, and expand upon, a previously-done statistical study. The assignments were drawn at random, and we got an old Australian TV experiment. It involved whether people would gamble with $20 they either were given to hold temporarily, or told would be theirs but not given to hold temporarily.

This was more up Lacey's alley, as her major was Psychology, and this experiment had been the brainchild of a Psychologist. Even so, she saw this for what it was.

"You know this is a joke, right?"

That broke the ice.

"Yeah, it's bullshit. What difference would it make if you held the bill or not?"

"Well, maybe some, but I think they kept it simple to make their point."

"The point being that people are stupid, I bet. It's a good point, I must admit."

"Speak for yourself, boyfriend. Still, we should decide how we want our study to turn out, and then tweak the variables to make it come out that way,"

"Is that how all Psych experiments work?"

"Yeah, pretty much. So let's divide our study between men and women, and make the prize if they win $100 instead of $50, and that'll be our report."

"Unless we don't like the results."

"The only result I care about is getting this done with the least amount of work."

Wow, beautiful AND smart! Too bad she was out of my league.

**********

The second time we met to work on our project was over coffee down at the student snack shack, and Lacey was in an especially ebullient mood.

"Why all the extra energy?"

"I had the greatest hook-up last night."

Oh. Well, at least we were hitting it off in every other way. Yes, it hurt being in the friend zone with such a beautiful creature, but being friends was better than nothing.

And the more we got to know each other, the better we got along. Still, she knew what she had going for her, and enjoyed taking advantage of it. Lacey didn't seem at all self-conscious about her casual dating habits, and I was too intimidated by her beauty and too comfortable with her as a pal to even consider calling her on it. Sure, it hurt when time after time she'd have that special glow, I'd raise my eyebrows, and she'd simply say "hook-up." But I was wise enough, or maybe foolish enough, to hold my tongue.

My own love life at school was a series of girlfriends, each relationship lasting a few months. And after Lacey and I became friendly, I found it even harder to commit. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but she wasn't that good an influence on me. It also didn't help that no one compared to her looks-wise.

Even after the project and class were done, we still hung out. All through the rest of our junior year and then all of the senior one. Guess I was one of her best girlfriends, except I was male. But then came graduation, and that was that. Lacey was going on to grad school to get her Masters, and it was halfway across the country.

And though I'd originally planned on Law School, I got waylaid along the way. One of the networks did a weekly feature that would focus on one of the many Presidential candidates in the out of power party. And one of them stood out to me. He was pretty obscure, and it was assumed he didn't have a chance. No organization, no prestigious backers, no money. But as I watched him on the screen, I decided this guy was going to go all the way.

So instead of going to Law School, I moved to New Hampshire to get in on the ground floor of his campaign. I had grand visions of rising to the top of his organization, becoming a key advisor, and winding up in the White House as a trusted aide.

Well, I learned that even an obscure candidate has long-time insiders. So although I didn't get to join that group, at least I did get to know him a bit. And more than that, found that my brief foray into statistics back in school gave me insights that the head pollster for the campaign found useful.

So I hitched my wagon to a different star, and as our candidate's campaign began to gain traction, this relatively unknown pollster started to get a lot of media recognition. His polls were the only ones that accurately tracked our guy's rise. A rise which continued all the way to the party's nomination, and then to victory in the general election.

0

Of course, my boss now had to decide whether to follow along into the White House as the new President's personal pollster, or try to cash in on his new-found notoriety as a freelance canvasser. He chose to follow the money instead of the glory, and that forced me to think about what I wanted to do. Should I stick with this winner, operating out of DC? Or head home, and maybe start up my own polling operation?

My choice was to be a big fish in a small pond by going back to where I came from, being my own boss, and trying to make a go out of doing surveys for local politicians. Although my family campaigned hard for me to get back on the legal trail, it was for naught. I'd gotten hooked, so to speak, on political polling, and that was that.

There's not a lot of money in local surveying, but there was enough for me to support myself. After all, I was young and single, so my needs were modest. Just enough for food, rent, wheels, and dating, and I was good. And best of all, I was my own man. That's the first secret of my life that I learned. Self-employment is the way to go. At least for me.

*********

Back then, polling was mostly conducted by phone interviews. Although I had some support staff, my operation was a shoestring start-up. So I had to make plenty of calls myself. Sometimes I'd be working off a list of registered voters, and sometimes it'd just be a list of phone numbers with no names attached. The first approach was designed to test how well a candidate was doing within the specific voting pool. The second would measure general public awareness of his or her candidacy.

Anyway, one night I was working off of a random numbers list, when one of my calls wound up being to my old study buddy Lacey Thompson. Somewhere along the way we'd lost track of each other (there wasn't any internet or social media in those days), but when she answered the phone I thought it might be her...

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Stan Thomas of Tompollery, and... wait a minute, are you Lacey Thompson?"

"Sure am, Stan," (laughing), "it's great to hear from you. Wow, how long has it been?"

"Too long. Are you living here now?"

"Yeah, I got my masters, and I've opened my own practice. What brought about this call?"

"Well, I've got my own business, too. I'm a political pollster, and I was doing a survey for Jack Marlboro, who's running for mayor. I was working off a list of phone numbers, and this one wound up being you! How cool is that?"

"Hey, that's great. So you're going to ask me questions about this guy? I'd better warn you, though, I don't follow politics all that much, and I've never heard of him. But ask away."

OK, so I went through the routine, and then we set a lunch date for a couple days later.

*********

When we got together, it was just like old times.

We'd both cleared our afternoon schedules, without consulting the other about it. That goes to show how in sync we still were. After playing catch-up and "do you remember?" through the meal, we ordered desserts and a carafe of coffee and kept talking.

And about an hour into this postprandial conversation, Lacey said "So Stan, how come you never tried to hook up with me?"

I nearly spit out my coffee, but recovered enough to tell her, "I never thought you'd be receptive. It's not like you had to do much to find men, and I just assumed you wouldn't be interested. And I didn't want to mess up what we already had, especially since you're so far out of my league."

"And what league would that be? I know men go after women mostly because of their looks, but we women look for different things in men then men look for in women. You've never met any of my hook-ups, but I can tell you that most of them were not male models. There's usually just something that intrigues me, and I either go for it or let it happen. And I can tell you, Stan, that your kindness and intelligence would have definitely gotten you to a yes. In fact, why don't we pay our bill and head over to my place?"

Wow. I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth (or anywhere else), so I pulled out enough bills to cover the tab plus a generous tip, and we got out of there post-haste. We'd both driven to the restaurant, so I followed her car over to her apartment.

I didn't want to waste any time, so as soon as her front door was closed, I moved in to kiss her. And that first kiss shocked the hell out of both of us. Now, I'm sure that Lacey, with all her hook-up experiences, had been around the block a lot more than I had, but what passed between us as our tongues invaded each other's mouths was an electric charge unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. And it was apparently the same for her, as she pulled back, looked straight into my eyes, and said "what the hell was that? Wow! Come with me, stud, I've got a bed with our names on it."

So instead of the usual long make-out session that I'd have expected and previously found to be the norm, we quickly shed our clothes and got right down to business.

And though Lacey may have had way more sexual partners than me, there was one thing I had complete confidence in. I'd had enough girlfriends to have learned how to eat pussy, and I deployed those skills on Lacey. It was no hardship, seeing those gorgeous long legs open up as she lay back on her bed, with the most delicious-looking vagina I'd ever had the pleasure to gaze upon emitting a soft musky aroma that drew me in. It'd have been enough for me to spend hours down there drinking up her orgasmic juices, drowning in her sex, but after a pretty long time of pure pleasure for her, Lacey finally pushed my head away saying, "enough, enough, I can't take anymore. Come up here and fuck me!"

A gentleman should always honor a lady's request, so I moved up and kissed her. Lacey didn't seem at all fazed with my pussy breath or the smell of her juices on my face, and gave tongue as good as she got. Meanwhile, I reached down to insert my rigid rod into her pleasure center, and then we were off to the races. She must have been primed by all the oral climaxes, because she began to buck and moan right after I made my entrance. So we wound up fucking hard and fast, and when she ripped into another huge orgasm, so did I, and we came together in wild ecstasy.

"Wow, what the fuck was that," Lacey said as we started to recover, "that was a hell of a lot more than a hook-up. We're going to have to make this a regular thing, buddy."

"I couldn't have said it better. I think I love you."

"Yeah, that's good enough for me. Let's get married and make a family."

"Are you serious, Lacey?"

"Well, I think that's where this is headed. I mean, a good friend who fucks like a champ? Doesn't get any better than that far as I'm concerned."

"OK, yeah, me too."

**********

Well, that's exactly what happened. With the timetable moved up significantly when Lacey fell pregnant right away, having missed her first period after that first time. She didn't get it confirmed at her Doctor's office until it was time for a second period, since by then it seemed likely she wasn't going to have one.

So I had to scramble to buy rings, with significant input from my significant other. We decided to quickly marry at the City Hall, which her father was happy about. No big expensive wedding for him to pay for. He was less happy about the cart coming before the horse. But Lacey's enthusiasm about me, plus respectful behavior from yours truly, eventually won him over. Meanwhile, her mom was thrilled about getting her first grandchild.

Who was a beautiful blonde baby girl, the spitting image of her gorgeous mother. We named her Pamela, and as she grew, she became the apple of my eye. We got along great. So I saw her as a real Daddy's girl, though that didn't stop her from also being close to her Mom.

Two year later we gave Pamela a little sister, Adrienne. More feisty than Pamela, she had a decent, if a little distant, relationship with both Lacey and Pamela. But somehow she and I were always butting heads. Don't get me wrong, I loved them both, but Pamela was a lot easier for me to deal with than Adrienne was.

Their different personalities were foreshadowed by their respective births. Lacey had a fairly easy labor with Pamela, taking only about 12 hours between her water breaking and the actual delivery. But with Adrienne, it was a much longer process, and in the end it took some medical intervention to get the baby to come out. As a result, Lacey's obstetrician suggested that another pregnancy might be risky. So we made the decision to stick with birth control and stop with the two we had.

As the girls grew, we were one happy family. Lacey and I still enjoyed a robust sex life, though it was obviously a little constrained by the presence of young ears in the house. So we had to be a lot quieter, and could only really let loose when either my parents or hers got some grandparent time by taking the girls for sleepovers.

And then came the teen years. Pamela's transition into puberty was relatively smooth, consistent with her easy personality. Adrienne was another matter, and her levels of defiance, especially towards her father, began going off the charts when the change began. And it only got worse the next couple of years.

**********

One morning while peeing I felt a burning sensation in my dick. At first I didn't think anything of it, figuring it must have been something I ate or drank the day before. But the pain kept getting worse throughout the day, and I finally decided I'd better get in to see my doctor to get it checked out.

So the next day I went in. He ran some tests, and the results came back after a couple days or so. It was gonorrhea. What the fuck! There was only place I could have gotten it, and that was from my loving wife.

What the fuck! Well, some men when they learn they've been cuckolded by a cheating wife will head straight to the bar and drink themselves into oblivion. I, on the other hand, wasn't driven to drink by this shock. I was driven to rage.

When my doctor gently suggested that I notify my wife, I lied to him and said we hadn't been intimate for some time. Fuck her. Let her urine burn. Which I guess hadn't happened yet, since she'd said nothing about anything like that going on with her.

Instead, I told him that I must have picked it up from a lady I'd been seeing, and I'd let her know. I didn't give him a name. Nowadays, it's more or less mandatory for doctor's offices to notify partners, but that wasn't the case yet back when all this went down.

Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. And that coin flipped completely for me when the penny dropped. All the anguish, hurt, emasculation, etc. that I could have and should have allowed myself to feel was shoved down into a tunnel of anger and hate. Those were the only emotions I let come to the surface of my conscious awareness.

Yes, it's a pretty abrupt flip, but that's what happened. Obviously, the marriage was over. But I needed to be strategic about it. Therefore, I decided that not only would I with-hold my diagnosis from Lacey, but I also wouldn't let on that I knew she'd been unfaithful.

Nice work if you can get it. But although the antibiotics had ended the burning in my penis, otherwise I was still burning up inside. And so despite my best/worst intentions, I couldn't hold it all in, and so late one night as we were about to get into bed, it came out.

"Who is he?"

"Who is who?"

"Your boyfriend."

"What boyfriend? There's only one boyfriend, and I'm married to him.

Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Oh, I don't know. Something just feels off. Maybe it's all in my head. Forget it."

"Good idea. You want to fool around?"

"I'd love to but I can't. I have some sort of urinary infection, it hurts to pee. Guess I should go get it checked out."

"No shit, Sherlock. How soon can you get in to see the doctor? I'm missing that big boy."

"Ok, ok, I'll call tomorrow and make an appointment. It's probably nothing, but I guess I should get some medicine or something to clear it up."

"Please. You shouldn't have to suffer from this.

"And neither should I."

What a fucking liar. Well, if she can lie, so can I.

**********

Since I wasn't getting answers from her, I decided to spend the money and get a PI to surveil the shit out of her. Using one of our joint credit cards, I engaged Morrison Investigations to monitor her activities.

After two weeks, I got called in and the man assigned to my case, Steve Stennis, told me what they'd found. Nothing. He recommended that they stop looking. She appeared to be clean, and it wasn't going to be cost-effective for them to keep looking for something which obviously wasn't there.

"Steve, it's my money. I have a sexually-transmitted disease that's being treated with drugs. And since I've never fucked anyone else in close to twenty years, she's obviously been fucking someone other than me. So whatever it costs, I want to keep going until you find out who she's been fucking."

"OK, Stan, as you say, it's your money. I think you're being foolish, though. It's pretty rare to find anything after a couple weeks have turned up nothing. But if you're willing to spend it, we're willing to take it."

It took them another few weeks before they hit paydirt. And I should have known. Lacey had told the truth. She didn't have a boyfriend. But they did catch her in a hook-up.

Fuck. The light bulb finally came on. I bet she never stopped with her hook-ups! Had she been doing these throughout our marriage? Were the girls even mine? Well, only one way to find out. I offered to clear the table and wash the dishes one evening, swabbed their water glasses, and sent them to one of the first labs equipped to do the new DNA testing.

It was a split decision. Pamela, the apple of my eye, daddy's little girl, wasn't mine. While Adrienne, the difficult one, was. With the marriage over, it was divorce time.

But not quite yet. I wasn't going to let that cunt get half of the business I'd built up, and I wanted full custody of my daughter. So the usual split down the middle wasn't going to work for me, and the only way to avoid it was to do some sleight of hand.

After Pamela was born, I'd come to realize that we'd need more income than what was coming in from Lacey's practice and my polling company. Since polling is more or less a numbers game, I gradually transitioned my business into an accounting practice. This required some additional education to become a CPA. But within five years, it got done.

So the business I was trying to protect from the whore was a CPA practice. And the only way I could see to keep it out of the community was to sell it cheap, with an unstated agreement that I could buy it back after the divorce was final.

But it would take a special buyer who'd be willing to enter into such a funky transaction. There were a lot of false starts until someone came along who was willing to get involved in this. A very, and I mean VERY attractive 36-year old woman, Sarah Campbell. Sarah had eyes full of mischief, and she actually LOVED the idea of what I was trying to do.

That said, she was also an ambitious CPA looking to expand her business. Though she was aware that a good chunk of what I was selling her was on loan, she told me straight up that she thought enough of my clientele would, after she had serviced their accounts, want to stay with her even after the buy-back.

I was equally aware that a lot of them would want to stay with me, so I agreed to continue handling those accounts with only minimal compensation for my work. That way she'd still be getting a good return on her investment with those clients.

The deal we agreed on was that I'd get paid a lump sum for the practice, but that lump sum would only be about a third of what it'd normally go for. The sale price was documented, as well as my agreement to help with the transition by working for her at an agreed-upon rate. That rate being 1/3 of my standard hourly. What wasn't documented was that we had a handshake agreement that after my divorce, I'd have two years to buy the practice back for 150% of what she'd paid for it.

To celebrate our agreement, we decided to enjoy a long lunch at one of the finest restaurants in town. And just to be clear, this wasn't going to be followed by an afternoon delight like my original hook-up with Lacey was. Because as attractive as Sarah Campbell might be, she was also happily married. So whatever my intentions, hers would remain honorable.

But she did have a surprise up her sleeve. When I got to our table, not only was she already there, but also another person. Her younger sister, Alice, who'd just arrived back in town from New York.

I was instantly beguiled. While both sisters were good looking, neither was a goddess like Lacey. But each had an appeal of her own, and Alice had simply the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. Warmth and kindness shone out of her. And she was just as bright and clever as her older sister, though their occupations couldn't have been more dissimilar.

Alice is an accomplished pianist, and had just flown back from doing a recording session in the Big Apple, where she worked regularly. Usually for the same producer, about whom I'd learn more later on. Anyway, Alice and I really hit it off, and I suspected that might have been Sarah's intent. She was obviously aware of my impending divorce, and apparently thought I was a good enough guy to introduce to Alice.

Thus began an elongated courtship. "Elongated" in the sense that neither of us wanted to cross the line until I was truly free. But I can tell you that it makes all the difference in the world navigating the treacherous shoals of divorce with an unofficial fiancé in the on-deck circle.

**********

With the business deal done (and a new love growing), it was time to drop the hammer. Armed with the evidence of Lacey's infidelity, I found myself an aggressive divorce attorney, and now had the unpleasant task of breaking the news to our two girls.

When I told Pamela what her mother had been doing, she shocked me with her response.

"So what? She still loves you. This is just getting something extra for herself. Women have the right. Don't get your panties into a bunch over this."

"What? You knew about it? And you're OK with it?"

"Sure, Dad. I love you, and so does Mom. This is nothing to break up our family for."

Adrienne's reaction couldn't have been any more different.

"That bitch! Who the fuck does she think she is!

"Dad, make sure that I get to live with you. I will not live with that whore!"

Nature vs. nurture. Often debated. Well, Pamela wasn't mine by nature, and Lacey sure nurtured her that it was OK to be a slut. Apparently, though, Lacey failed to nurture Adrienne to feel the same way, and she was mine by nature.

And now the family would be completely ripped apart. Right down the middle. Though Pamela (17) and Adrienne (15) were both minors, each could testify as to which parent she wanted to live with. Pamela going with Lacey was a given, especially since I planned to disown her once she turned 18. But Adrienne swore that any ruling that placed her with Lacey would result in her becoming a runaway.

"I will not live with that whore or my whore sister. Your honor, if I can't live with my father, then I'll just have to live on the streets. So please give that some consideration before you make your decision."

It's rare for a judge to allow the minor children to be separated, and this one didn't. Instead he decided to take all this under advisement for a month, and urged our respective lawyers to work out an agreement.

There was no business for Lacey to get half of (and Sarah threatened to sue her if she made any stink about the acquisition), while hers was still fair game. I'd used the proceeds from my fire sale to make a big payment to my lawyer (pre-paying for the divorce and then some, purportedly anticipating excessive costs from a prolonged process), and to set up an irrevocable trust for Adrienne. So the asset split would basically be me getting half of whatever Lacey had. And since my reduced income (as agreed upon between Sarah and I) was now less than what Lacey was bringing home, I had the financial advantage where alimony was concerned, too.

The finances proved to be enough leverage for my attorney to get her to fold on the issue of custody. In exchange, she got to keep her business, and there would be no alimony or child support in either direction. We kept our respective retirements, split the cash and investments, and she used some of her half to buy me out of my half of the house.

So I took Adrienne and rented a smaller house for us, while Lacey took Pamela, who I no longer wanted, anyway. It's a hard thing to learn to hate or become indifferent to a daughter you've loved for 17 years. But knowing that I wasn't even her father helped soften the blow. And her nonchalant attitude towards my hurt from Lacey's hook-ups dealt the final blow to any love I might have still harbored.

Meanwhile, I'd introduced Adrienne to Alice, and they got along well. Alice was perfectly fine with taking over the mother role with my daughter, though she made it clear that she expected me to start another family with her if, and it was more when than if by this point, we got married.

Did I really want to start another family at 43? Or had I been there, done that? Well, the first family hadn't turned out so well now, had it? And there was no way I was going to let Alice slip through my fingers. So the answer was a resounding "hell, yes!"

So through the pain of cutting both my wife Lacey and her daughter Pamela out of my life, I learned another secret of my life. Toxic people have to go. Adrienne and I got into it because we were too much alike. Two people with stubborn integrity, one of whom was still trying to figure herself out. Not that I wasn't, too, in my own way. But with Alice, I believed I had found the answers.

And this time, time would prove me right.

**********

Alice came with remarkably little baggage. She'd been married once, briefly, to a fellow music major from college. His penchant for bedding new women ended their union within two years, and she'd suffered through a series of similar boyfriend experiences throughout her twenties. Maybe because all of them had been fellow musicians. And perhaps my not being one factored into Sarah's decision to introduce us.

When we met, Alice was 31 to my 43. And different from my first wife in many ways.

Whereas Lacey was a blonde goddess, the stuff of many a wet dream, Alice had tawny hair like her older sister. And while Lacey dressed to impress, Alice went for modesty in her outfits. While not quite a "hippie chick," she did favor long dresses that showed little skin.

And there would be no intimacy until my divorce was final. Which was actually fine by me. My male ego had been knocked down a few pegs when I discovered that Lacey had been doing hook-ups throughout our relationship. So my sexual confidence level had taken a hit, and in fact I was worried that I might disappoint Alice when the time came.

It would have made a lot more sense for me to build myself back up by getting it on with a lot of women. Certainly there were plenty out there who showed an interest when it became known that I was available. But I'd already met Alice, and though our dating was essentially platonic, there was no way she was going to accept me catting around on her.

So we got to know each other as friends. Not all that different from what had happened with Lacey back at college. Except that for Alice, there were no other interests. Other than, of course, the piano. I'd never been all that interested in music, other than as background for dancing or on the radio. But now I found myself spending hours just listening to her play.

And we spent a lot of time in deep discussions. Which included confessing my new-found feelings of insecurity after the damage done by Lacey. I fretted out loud that I worried about being able to please her. Alice's reaction floored me.

"What's there to please? I've had enough experience to know that sex is fun. The worst sex I've ever had was better than no sex at all.

"Of course, I've never been raped or anything like that. But leaving that aside, you have nothing to worry about. I'm sure we'll be fine. As long as I love you and you love me.

"Actually, I should be the one worrying. You're used to sleeping with a blonde bombshell. No way could I ever compete with that.

"But you know what? I don't give a fuck. If I'm not enough for you, then that's your loss, not mine."

"You know, all this talk is making me even more eager to get the divorce done quickly. My guy is pretty aggressive. Think I'll let him keep the whole deposit if he can get me free faster."

**********

By this time the settlement outline was in place, but Lacey threw in a couple of sticking points. One was the buy-out price for my half of the house. The other was that she and I had to do a sit-down, just the two of us, no lawyers present, before she would agree to sign off on anything.

Because, you see, I had cut off all communication with the both of them (slut wife and treacherous so-called daughter) after Lacey was served. If I heard either of their voices on my phone (calling from an unrecognized or unblocked number), I immediately hit the red button. Didn't even give either one of them the courtesy of saying "you have something to say, say it to my lawyer." Not even that.

So to get this done, I caved on the house price. Sold out cheap, which I figured was good enough since I wasn't looking to buy anything right away anyway. Even without any means of support other than the pittance I was charging Sarah to service my former clients, I had enough from my half of our assets to afford rent and other monthlies for a while. Once I was out of the marriage, and presumably about to get into a new one, then it'd be time to find something more permanent.

I also agreed to the debriefing, but only if Lacey had signed notarized divorce papers first. So we did our meeting at her lawyer's office with mine there, too, to witness and confirm that the divorce had been signed off on. Then they left us to our own devices in a private conference room.

"Stan, I still don't understand why we had to go through all this. You're the only man I've ever loved. And it's not like those random hook-up's threatened any of that. Why tear the family apart for something you always knew about me?"

"Well, stupid me. I thought that getting married was a lifetime commitment to each other. Like we said in our vows, 'forsaking all others.' I don't remember there being an 'except for hook-up's' clause. "

"I did forsake all others. Those hook-up's had nothing to do with you. They were just recreation, like when you go to a ball game or play cards or something. You're my only love interest.

"By the way, you knew this all along. So what changed all of a sudden?"

"I did not know this all along! I had no fucking idea you were such a slut. I blissfully assumed you were as faithful to me as I was to you--"

"I was--"

"No, you weren't! No matter what you call it, fucking someone else isn't being faithful.

"Anyway, what changed is that you gave me a venereal disease!"

"What? The hell I did! I've never had one, so what the fuck?"

"I assumed you knew and didn't tell me. You're telling me you had no symptoms of gonorrhea?"

"Fuck no. You mean you had it and didn't tell me? You bastard!"

"I thought you knew and didn't say anything to me because you didn't want me to know you'd been fucking someone else. Shit, if I had known..."

"Well, I'll go get checked out, then. But I haven't had any symptoms, so it's probably nothing. But still, you should have said something. After 17 years of marriage, 17 years of loving you completely, I deserved better."

"And that's why we're getting divorced. You still don't see that you did anything wrong. You and your whore daughter are out of your fucking minds."

"Fuck you. You're a piece of shit for abandoning your own daughter, now that you brought her up. And for turning our other daughter against me."

"You still don't get it, do you? She's not my daughter, never was. She's YOUR daughter. And now she'll probably grow up to be a piece of shit whore just like you. At least MY daughter will grow up with a sense of decency.

"Fuck this shit. You've gotten your talk, but it's just going around in circles. I'm out of here!"

**********

Looking back, I have to admit that my blindness to what Lacey had been doing may have been partly my own fault. I was so thrilled that I had won this goddess for my own that we never really talked explicitly about exclusivity and faithfulness. Naively, I assumed that our vows covered all that. Since I'd always seen marriage as being exclusive, I foolishly believed that Lacey did, too.

I should have known better. So when I proposed to Alice, I made it a point to engage her in a long conversation about fidelity. One that she apparently wanted to have, as well.

We spent a good amount of time going through our respective romantic and sexual histories, disclosing every partner by name. Each of us also had an uncomfortable disclosure to reveal about our marriages, mine to Lacey, and hers to Ken.

"So, you were faithful to Lacey throughout your marriage? That's so different from my experiences with men that I find it hard to believe--"

"--"

"No, don't say anything. I believe you. I just wish I could say the same."

"What? You cheated on Ken? I thought it was all about him cheating on you!"

"I didn't cheat, Stan. But I was unfaithful. But it wasn't my idea."

"Huh?"

"Ken and I kept getting into it over his cheating. He just wouldn't stop. So I guess he decided the only way he could keep me while still doing what he was doing was for me to experience other men. He started pushing and pushing, and finally I gave in, and had sex with a friend of his.

"The sex was OK, but I hated the whole thing. I felt dirty, soiled, like I'd given up a piece of my soul, of who I am. And the worst part is that Ken kept pressing me for details, how it was, what we did. Like he was getting off on it. And it made me feel like a piece of meat, just a sex fantasy for him, not a real woman. That was when I realized that he didn't really love me, at least not in the way I believe a man should love his woman. And that's when I filed for divorce."

"Well, you were pushed into it, so I don't think any less of you. But as long as we're making uncomfortable confessions, I have one for you, too.

"When I got diagnosed with the gonorrhea I could only have caught from Lacey, I was so angry that I decided not to tell her what the doctor had said. I just told her that I was being given drugs for a urinary infection so we couldn't have sex for a few weeks while the antibiotics cleared the infection. Which gave me some time to plan for the divorce.

"I figured that if she didn't get any symptoms, the disease might work its way through her body anyway. I had so much rage, I hated her so much, that I deliberately said nothing in hopes that she would suffer real damage.

"So I guess that makes me a horrible person?"

"Well, yeah, that is pretty slimy. But I guess I can understand it. She was cheating on you, and gave it to you in the first place.

"And since I was technically a cheating wife, I can't really cast any stones. What I should have done when Ken was bugging me to do it was just say no and file for divorce then. But I guess a part of me was curious, wondering what another man would be like. So I gave in.

"As long as we are honest and open with each other, and stay loyal and faithful, I think that these things don't make us bad people. Just less than perfect people."

**********

When the divorce decree made me a free man, Alice and I did two things. We got engaged, and consummated our love. Whatever worries either of us had about pleasing the other went out the window. My well-developed oral skills took her to places she'd never been, and Alice was the most responsive and grateful partner I'd ever had. And though she may have been restrained in public, dressing to conceal rather than reveal, Alice was both warm and wild in bed. She initiated a lot, both physically and verbally, and the only things we didn't do were things neither of us were interested in doing.

We decided to have a small but traditional wedding. Since it was the second marriage for both of us, we self-financed, which was one reason we wanted to keep the guest list down. So for the most part it was just immediate family (parents, siblings, and in my case, one daughter) and whichever friends had roles in the wedding (best man, maid of honor, etc.).

One big exception was that music producer who gave Alice regular session work. While we were engaged, Alice insisted that we take a short vacation in New York to coincide with a session she had there. So it was on that trip that I got to meet her producer friend.

Cassandra Green, who everyone called Sandi, was (and still is) a pip. She's got a heart of gold, but takes shit from no one. Over the years, I've seen her viciously take down people (mostly men) who dared to diss her or the people she cares about. One of whom is my lovely wife.

So she gave me a good grilling when we first met, obviously probing to see if I was what Alice seemed to think I was. A good guy. It might not have been what Sandi expected from me, but I found the whole thing, and her, to be funny, and laughingly told her so. When I did, she didn't arch up. Instead she gave me a cool, long, look and said, "OK, you passed." From then on, we were fast friends, and there's no friend more loyal than Sandi Green.

After the wedding, and the honeymoon, Alice and I discussed my work future, Although I could've bought back my practice from Sarah, a combination of gratitude to her for introducing me to Alice, along with the fact that she was now family, made me think about letting her keep what she'd bought. The only change we made was that I would now get compensated for the time I worked for her at my full market rate.

Alice was on board with all of this. We did the math, and although we weren't going to be getting rich off my contract work and her session work, we'd have enough to support a mortgage, and start a new family. Which we did, giving Adrienne two younger brothers, Donald and Phillip, and a little sister, Marie, the baby of the family.

**********

Because my work for Sarah was as an independent, I did a lot of it at home. That work was enhanced by the pleasure of hearing Alice's free-form piano practicing as background music. And whenever I decided to take a break, I would watch and listen to her play.

It didn't take me too long to realize that among the mix of classical and popular music were some original improvisations. And not too long after that, I got the bright idea that we should see about Alice recording some of them.

One of the nice things about recording in a studio is that for the most part, it's not all that physically demanding. So even during her pregnancies, Alice was still able to do sessions for Sandi. It also helped that since I didn't have a job where I had to be in an office all day every day, I could accompany her to the sessions, which were usually in New York. Which meant we could bring the babies with us, and I could supervise them in the studio lobby while Alice was working in the studio proper.

Sandi also made it a point to accommodate Alice by scheduling sessions around her family obligations whenever possible. So when I suggested to Alice that we try to record some of her original music, and she agreed that it might be worth a try, there was no question that our first choice for producer would be our good friend Sandi Green.

Not only was she a friend, but Sandi was also something of a jack of all trades. Besides all her production work (which was mostly music for commercial ads), she had started a solo career as a rap artist, going under the name of Bra (ostensibly a female version of Bro).

There were only a couple of big-time female rappers then (Queen Latifah and Salt-N-Pepa come to mind), and Bra never joined them at the top. I think that Sandi just didn't have the time to devote to it, since she wasn't willing to give up the bread and butter producing gigs, which were guaranteed paydays.

But this demonstrated versatility, which included not only the rapping and producing, but also some songwriting, made her a good choice outside of friendship to guide Alice's solo sessions. Although the big boom in New Age music had come and gone, it was now enough of an established market that we figured Alice could fit in and sell some CD's doing this.

As it turned out, Alice did about as well in New Age as Sandi/Bra did in Rap. Kind of under the radar, with a loyal but small following. One of the reasons both women hit a glass ceiling, of sorts, was that neither was willing to take the time to do much in the way of live shows. Touring would have involved a lot of travel, taking time away from family and session work.

But all this music stuff did pull me further away from accounting. Although there were some former clients that just wouldn't let go, over time they became fewer as Sarah won them over. Freeing up more time for me to be a stay-at-home husband and dad.

And so I guess it was inevitable that I'd want to get more involved in what Alice was doing with Sandi. But taking over some of the production from Sandi was a non-starter. She'd give a fair listen to any suggestions, but no one tells Sandi Green what she can or can't do. So I wasn't going to be doing any producing of my own.

But what did wind up happening is that Alice and I began to try writing commercial jingles that Sandi could use. And that turned out to be a winner. Sometimes we'd co-write with Sandi, sometimes it was just the two of us. But we wound up making some real dinero on these ads. And as our reputation grew, we were able to get paid not only for the initial usage, but also for repeat airings. We've done very well now for a long time with this, and it's both a lot easier and a lot more fun than working on taxes and financial statements.

As I already knew, working for one's self is the best way to work. But it's even better if you can work for yourself by doing something you enjoy.

**********

A couple years into our marriage, the doorbell rang. Adrienne was at school, and Alice was nursing baby Don. Since I had been putting dishes into the dishwasher, I told her "I'll get it," and walked to the front door.

Pamela was standing there. She said, "Hi, Dad."

I said, "Stan."

She rolled her eyes, and I asked "What are you doing here?"

"I'd like to talk. Can we talk, please?"

Her opening gambit of calling me Dad, and then rolling her eyes when I corrected her, seemed same old, same old, to me. But otherwise, her demeanor appeared to be humble and hopeful. So I quickly decided that what I really wanted to do, which was shut her down and send her away, might be too harsh. Maybe I should hear her out, let her say her piece.

But I also didn't want to invite her into our home for this discussion, so I said "hold on, let me tell my wife you're here. Wait outside and I'll be right back."

I went in and told Alice, "it's Pamela. She wants to talk. But I don't want her in our home. If you don't need me for the next hour or so, maybe I can have us meet at The Coffee Place. What do you think?"

"That's fine. I can always call over there if anything comes up here."

So that's what we did. I gave Pamela directions, but also suggested she follow me in her car. The Coffee Place was only about five minutes away from our house.

Since it was early afternoon, the place wasn't too busy. We got settled in, with coffees and pastries, at a table that wasn't near anybody else. And the first thing she said was "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Stan."

"OK, but you're the only father I've ever known. Mom has no idea who my bio-dad is, and no way to contact him even if she figured out which one it was. So even though you don't think of me that way, it's the way I still see you."

"I get it, Pamela, but your mother made us live a lie for 17 years. We are not family. You are not my daughter. In fact, if I wasn't happily married, I could fuck you and there'd be nothing wrong with that."

She looked shocked, but I didn't give a shit. It wasn't my idea to have this conversation.

"OK, Dad, er, I mean Stan, but that isn't what I came here for. I've grown up a bit since you left us, and I really want to apologize for my insensitivity then."

Well, that was interesting. After all, her bitch of a mother was never sorry. When we had that exit interview to finalize the divorce, she was still treating her infidelity as no big deal. As had Pamela at the time. I wondered what had changed, so I asked her.

"I'm in college now, and I had a boyfriend. A serious boyfriend. A great guy. I thought for sure he was a keeper. In fact, he reminded me of you, at least in some ways. So I was all in, and then he cheated on me. Or at least I found out about it. Maybe it'd been going on all along.

"Anyway, I finally got to feel something like what you must have felt when you found out about Mom. And realized how shitty I was to you when you were hurting.

"Though in my defense, I was still just a kid."

"But you were old enough to know right from wrong. Being seventeen is a lot different from being seven."

"Yeah, I know, but Mom painted this picture of her having these great little adventures that didn't hurt anybody. She was my role model, and I got sucked into her narrative without giving any thought to you ever finding out about it. It was kind of our little secret, something we could share just between the two of us. She hadn't said anything to Adrienne, because she was always such a pain in the ass. So it was a special little mother and daughter thing, just for us.

"But now after being on the receiving end, I can't believe how immature I was about this. So I guess I'm asking if you can forgive me for being such a brat, and if there's any chance we could restore our relationship.

"I won't say a word to Mom if we do, by the way."

That was a lot to unpack. I nodded my head, but stayed silent for a couple minutes while I thought about what my response should be. I finally decided on what to say.

"Pamela, I respect your courage in coming to me, and I accept your apology. But while it's true you may have been immature and have grown since then, as I said before, you were still old enough to know right from wrong. You didn't come to me when your mother told you about what she'd been doing. So while I can forgive you, we can never go back to what we thought we were.

"The fact is that you are not really my daughter. So we can never be family again. But since I can see you are genuinely sorry, what I can offer you is friendship. If you need advice, you can ask me for it, and I'll give you the best I can. But that's it. Family gatherings are out."

"What about Adrienne?"

"That's between you and her. If she wants to be your sister, I will not object. But it will be outside the family. I'm not trying to be mean, but our new family is sacred to me, and I will not allow it to be contaminated with shit from the past. Not that you are shit, though your mother sure is."

"You know you really did a number on her, Dad, I mean Stan. Shit, it's hard to wrap my head around that. Anyway, because you never told her that you'd caught that VD from her, she became sterile because it went untreated for so long. I don't know if she was looking to have any more children. I mean, she hasn't really been doing anything since you left except for her usual one-nighters, but I guess she wasn't ready for permanent menopause, either.

"But other than that, she had no other long-term damage. Still, she looked into suing you for nondisclosure, but a couple of lawyers she met with told her that the burden of proof was too high, and she'd most likely lose."

"Well, if you think I should feel bad about that, I don't. I can forgive you, since as you've suggested, you were led astray. But your mother will always be like that Metallica song. Unforgiven."

"Metallica? Really? You were never that into music."

"My wife is a professional musician. So she's gotten me interested in all of that. Even though I'll admit that Metallica isn't really either of our thing. But that's a song I heard on the radio and thought it was pretty good. Not the usual noise."

"Whatever. Anyway, whatever you say, I'll always think of you as my dad. You're the closest thing I'll ever have. But I'll take what I can get. Friends?" She stuck out her hand.

"Friends," I replied, and we shook on it.

**********

Pamela and I have remained friends, and over the years, I've given her some good advice. Maybe because of that, she didn't turn into her mother, and eventually got married and had a family. And stayed faithful, at least to my knowledge. She never told me anything that would contradict that.

Adrienne and Pamela did re-establish their sisterly bond. After all, they do share a common mother, at least biologically. Adrienne never reconciled with her mother, having found a new and better one in Alice. But she did stay friendly with her older sister, though Pamela never became a part of the family. Not that Alice would have minded. She and I occasionally got together with Pamela and her husband, but it's always on neutral ground.

Anyway, Alice and I thrived. And still do today, still as much in love after all these years as we ever were. Yes, my medications have limited my penile prowess. But my wife has slowed down, too. So our intimacy hasn't suffered. And besides, my tongue is still in good working order.

**********

... and so... after I told Don, "... I can tell you that I do know the secret to MY life," I added this:

"The secret to my life, son, after all is said and done, is that I was very lucky. And that at least I had the good sense to recognize good luck when I got it.

"And that good luck was meeting your mother.

"And she and I will always be grateful to your Aunt Sarah," I said, nodding in her direction, "for hooking us up."

-30-