Never Settle

All characters below who engage in sex are over eighteen, And in case it needs to be said -- this is fiction! None of the characters are based on real, living or dead, people.

If you read our story 'Right Here, Right Now' you may recognize one of the characters below. Traci makes an appearance within this tale but you don't need to read that story to understand her character here.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Never Settle

The café was noisy and crowded. Gail and I were enjoying a night out beginning with one of Chef Guillaume's signature dishes, his grilled salmon and coconut jasmine rice with asparagus. Gail was wearing a little black dress, her silver hair tied back in a French braid that I like so much because it showcases her long neck and the sapphire and diamond earrings I gave her for our first wedding anniversary. The light from the wall sconce to her left reflected off one earring. My tongue feasted on a bite of salmon until my eyes refocused past Gail's ear.

I had a hard time believing my own eyes as I watched the two women being seated across the crowded restaurant. "What are the friggin' odds?" I thought to myself. Yes, even in my brain I'm reluctant to drop the 'f' bomb.

I've had sex with four women in my life -- and three of the four were in the Café Garand at this very moment, including my wife Gail, who was seated with her back to the other two. I turned my head slightly with the hope those two wouldn't see me; the meal with Gail was too pleasant to have it spoiled now.

I did a lousy job hiding my disdain, Gail saw my focus shift. She looked behind, then turned back and studied my face. "Okay buddy, what's got you so interested? Do you know those two women?"

Just then the waiter dropped by to refill our wine glasses. I stayed silent hoping we could finish our meals and get the hell out of there without any confrontation. Gail took a bite of her salmon, waited, then asked. "You're stalling."

This was not a conversation I wanted to get into right now; the evening started out pleasantly, too nice to be ruined by this. Oh well! "Remember I told you I dated two women after my divorce from Lisa before I met you?" I paused as Gail nodded. "The two women sitting at the window are Traci and Faith, the two women I dated."

Gail looked up suddenly. "You're kidding!" I could tell she was trying not to laugh. "Let's go over so you can introduce me." Gail loves to tease. "What are they doing together? Is it 'bash Jack night' at Café Garand because I didn't get a memo. Any more ex's expected?"

"Hopefully that's it. Unless Lisa walks in and joins them. I didn't know those two knew each other. Now eat your meal and quit riding me or I'll have to spank you when we get home."

Gail threw me a kiss, "Promise?" She knew I loved her firm ass and would never actually harm it.

Just then, two more women walked in the door and joined Faith and Traci at their table. I recognized one of the women and knew then it wasn't only a 'bash Jack' session, it was a bash all men session. Faith and her contingent of girlfriends all had one thing in common; they were all middle-aged man-haters who blamed all their woes on the patriarchy. Traci fit right in with the group.

They were loud as they greeted each, Gail and most of the restaurant patrons turned to watch the group. Turning back, it was as if she could read my mind. "Not all women are like that Jack," Gail spoke kindly, "you of all people should understand that."

I admit Gail had a point. "I know. I'm damn lucky you came into my life." Gail reached over the table to hold my hand. As I gently squeezed her hand, I couldn't help but smile at the token of my love and commitment she wore on her left hand; the ring I placed there three years ago.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lisa

Lisa, my first wife and first love, is the mother of my two children. She's the woman who shared my life for close to twenty mostly wonderful years before we spent the next five years drifting further apart before the divorce.

Lisa and I fell victim to a more recent development in human evolution. Couples who lived longer than our ancestors, ending up living past the point of, in our case, having anything in common with each other.

With the kids out of the house, Lisa and I discovered just how far apart we'd grown. I wanted to watch sports on TV, she enjoyed Downton Abbey and similar shows. My weekends were spent on the golf course with male friends or developing new business contacts, hers in her garden or at craft shows, I wanted to travel abroad while Lisa was content to stay at home with our grandchild. Lisa never learned to relax on an airplane, an irrational (to me) fear of flying. I don't need to continue, the picture is quite plain, we merely co-existed. We still made love on occasion, very rarely by her initiative and although she rarely refused my seductions, the enthusiasm of the first two decades had disappeared.

One thing I can say with almost certainty, we were faithful to each other for the entire marriage. How many couples can say that?

******

I graduated from college with a wife, a three-year-old son named Nathan, and a diploma in Architecture from Cal Poly. Lisa and I met our freshman year and immediately fell in love. Very soon thereafter, she got pregnant the old fashion way, with me promising to pull out and somehow forgetting the promise in the heat of the moment. It was our third time 'going all the way' after three months of slowly building up to the main event.

"It's not a good time Jack; use a condom."

We were both naked on my dorm room bed. My hands touching her everywhere - breasts, her butt cheeks, behind her thighs, back up to behind her neck, pulling her lips to mine. Our tongues teasing each other's. The tip of my cock was at the entry of that little bit of heaven I'd only been in while wrapped up the previous two times. The condoms were in the drawer next to the bed, the thought of stopping, opening the wrapper and putting on a rubber seemed too much of an effort.

"I'll pull out before I cum." said with all sincerity.

"Promise?"

I promised her I would -- and yes, I honestly meant it. When the time came to pull out, I hesitated a half second. Of course, that's all it took.

Four months later, we were exchanging 'I do's'. Then five months later, Lisa was in the delivery room screaming at me. "You son of a bitch Jack. You son of a BITCH! You promised me!"

She continued to curse me out until she held Nathan in her arms and all was forgiven.

We were lucky, both sets of parents helped us through those college years. My folks loved Lisa and her folks sort of liked me despite my impregnating their nineteen-year old daughter. I finished my degree as Lisa juggled taking care of Nathan while earning her own certification as a physical therapist.

I graduated with my BA and found a job with an architectural firm based in Portland, close enough to her folks in Eugene so they could be near their grandson, far enough that we had some semblance of privacy. Which explains how we soon added our son Fredrick to the household.

I don't know what the statistics are for how many couples end up divorced during their first decade experiencing the same challenges. Two boys in a two bedroom rented townhouse, struggling every month to pay the bills, being young with all the stupidity that entails. Being each other's first and only. And without trying to sound conceited, we were both good looking with plenty of opportunities to stray. I'm certain Lisa had to deal with guys hitting on her constantly. Hell, they did it when she was with me. An average of two or three women hit on me every year. And some of them were damn good looking.

But we got through it. I credit Lisa and the way she was raised. It was a great marriage and life until we found ourselves living separate lives and wanting different things in our golden years. We were both so busy with our respective jobs, with raising two great boys, with the everyday chores, that we didn't take enough time to be a couple. Nathan was married and Fred left for college on the East Coast. Suddenly, we were alone, wondering what happened to 'US'. It's so sad how we finally came to the same conclusion.

*****

We were spending a weekend on the Oregon Coast. I spent the morning on the golf course, Lisa wanted to sit on the deck to finish the book she was reading. When I got back to our room to get ready for an early dinner, Lisa was waiting for me. "Sit down Jack." A statement which sounds eerily similar to 'we have to talk'.

I smiled at Lisa as I sat, amazed how beautiful she was in my eyes after all these years.

Lisa looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. "Jack, are you happy?"

"Mostly." I answered honestly.

"Do you feel as if you're 'settling', that there's so much more you want out of life but I'm holding you back?" She asked this question without anger or malice.

In that instant I made a decision without being absolutely convinced it was the right one. "Lisa, I don't know if 'settling' is the word I'd use. We've obviously drifted apart. Since the boys moved out we have little in common. It sounds to me as though you've made a decision. What are you thinking?"

Lisa sat in the hotel rocker looking at me with tears in her eyes. "I'm setting you free Jack; I want a divorce."

We talked for another half hour, quizzing each other on what we each wanted to do and see before we died, what's now called a bucket list. Mine was filled with action and adventure. Lisa's list consisted of books, home and grandchildren. We changed to go to dinner and, surprisingly, we respectfully continued the conversation. "How very civilized!" I thought as we finished dessert and walked back to our room. Now, I just think it's sad, it reminds me of the Sondheim song, 'Send In The Clowns'.

Lisa and I didn't give it up immediately following that weekend. We tried counseling, but after three sessions realized nothing would change, we were fond of each other but had grown too far apart to mend the marriage. Years later, my son Nathan told me his mother thought she was being kind by letting me go -- allowing me to chase after a better, more self-fulfilling life. I still see Lisa a few times a year when the family gets together for grandchildren's birthdays and similar occasions. Gail and Lisa get along, which is more than I can hope for -- it helps our 'friendship' that Lisa remarried about five years after our breakup, to a nice guy who shares her 'stay at home' interests.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Social media." Out of the blue, Gail said the words as we drove home from the café. We managed to leave without being seen by either Faith or Traci. "That's how those two met."

I turned the radio off to listen while shaking my head. "I've never posted on Facebook. Hell, I've never been on Facebook or any of those websites except Linkin, and that's just business stuff."

"Doesn't matter." she answered. "If one of those bitches put your name out there on their public posts, a quick search would have brought it up. That's probably how they connected. Damn, you really must have pissed them off!" There was a smile in her voice as she teased me.

"Can you blame them? Look how happy I made you!" I couldn't help but give Gail my best smile as I wiggled my eyebrows. Luckily, we were stopped at a red light.

Gail just shook her head. "Yeah, right."

But the conversation had me thinking; did I really piss those two off that much?

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Faith

I wasn't prepared for the emptiness after my divorce from Lisa. All the physical tasks of separation - selling the house, finding new living quarters, possessions and assets divided, the papers signed, sealed and approved by the court -- kept my mind occupied as the divorce wound its way through the legalities. But sitting in a townhouse alone was a whole new experience. Work became more important than ever.

I was still working for Kevin and Jamie Harper, the husband and wife team who recruited me from my first design firm. I spent the first five years in the home office, necessitating our young family's move from Portland to Seattle, then back to Portland to manage their Portland office. I enjoy my work; the Harpers are kind, caring employers and the work is both challenging and rewarding.

It was Tuesday of the fourth week after the divorce when Jamie entered my office. She spent two minutes on personal matters, Jamie had a motherly look in her eyes when she asked, "How are you doing Jack?"

I answered honestly. Told her about the sudden loneliness of going home to an empty home. "It's strange. For the past few years I thought Lisa and I spent hours in each other's company with little to share. Now I realize there was peace in the silence because we didn't need to fill in the space but could interrupt the silence at any time. That part's gone now."

Jamie looked at me with sympathy. "Are you regretting your decision Jack?"

"Not the big picture decision. Just missing those little moments. I'll be fine." I paused. "So, Jamie, you didn't fly down here from Seattle to ask about my personal life, although I appreciate your concern. What's on your mind?"

Jamie was thankful to get back to business. "I don't know if you realize it, but your work has left a little to be desired these past four weeks."

What she said was true, I'd spent too much time staring into space.

Jamie continued. "Are you ready to get your ass in gear? Kevin and I need you on the Sullivan project. Larry's good, but he's not you and we're a week behind. Larry doesn't have the experience to get back on schedule. Penalties will hurt us if we're late."

I told Jamie not to worry, She took me at my word and accompanied me to Larry's office to give him the news we'd be working together for the duration of the project. Larry seemed relieved. I did get my head out of my ass, back to work and helped Larry finish the drawings on time. One nice thing about it -- people in the office stopped tiptoeing around or completely avoiding me.

Even so, over the next few months I came home at night and spent evenings watching too much television while imitating a couch potato. Although I occasionally went out with friends or family, it was only once every two or three weeks. Then one morning, stepping on a scale, was shocked to find I'd gained twenty pounds in six months, I took a hard look at myself in the mirror, not liking what I saw. The next day I got a haircut, shaved my beard, and joined the local gym.

******

One of my young co-workers noticed my new attitude and decided it was time to meet her widowed mother. That's how I was introduced to Faith, at a dinner party given by her daughter. Faith was in her early forties and is, quite frankly, a beautiful woman. Faith was widowed four years prior to our introduction and although still quite attractive, hadn't re-entered the dating scene. That status was about to change when I asked if I could take her to dinner the following weekend and she accepted.

Monday morning Rachel was standing in my office doorway. "Mom really enjoyed meeting you and is looking forward to Saturday. Where are you taking her?" The excitement in Rachel's voice made me smile.

"I don't know. Any ideas?"

Rachel paused for a few seconds. "Are you thinking fancy?" I nodded before she continued. "Then I think it should be Jake's. Dad used to take her there and she loves it. I don't think she's been back since he passed."

"You sure that won't bring back sad memories? I mean, if she's okay with it, I am."

Rachel did that thing she does with her face when she's thinking. I always thought it was cute. "Why don't I feel her out. I'll say you brought it up and ask what she thinks. It will be nice to see her dressed up again." Rachel skipped away back to her office.

Our first dinner wasn't at Jake's, but to another high-end restaurant downtown. I never asked the reason for the change; it's understandable why Faith didn't want our first date to be awkward. Given the venue, I dressed in one of my suits but skipped the tie. I picked Faith up at her home; Rachel answered the door, a giant smile on her face, and gave me a hug. Faith appeared behind Rachel, looking very chic in a navy blue pants suit.

I'm fairly certain Faith and I both enjoyed that first date. Our conversation flowed, we laughed at each other's stories whenever appropriate. She didn't hesitate when I asked her for a second date the following weekend. I dropped her off at her home and even received a quick kiss on the cheek.

The next date consisted of a lovely Saturday afternoon at Powell's Book Store, then walking in and out of various shops, buying fresh veggies, a loaf of bread and an excellent salmon filet to grill that evening at my home.

It was nice cooking for someone again. My outdoor grill has a side burner which I used to stir-fry the veggies in my wok while the filets were on the coals. Faith made herself comfortable on an Adirondack chair, sipping a glass of Pinot Gris while commenting on my ability to multi-task. We continued to learn more about each other during dinner; so far no alarm bells rang, but I didn't expect many, given how well I get along with her daughter. She did seem surprised by the eclectic mix of books in my library, we were having an after dinner Cognac in my study as Faith read the titles, concentrating on the non-fiction section.

"What an interesting mix! Galbraith and Chomsky, de Beauvoir and Friedan; but then Krauthammer, Goldberg and Jordan don't seem to fit with the others."

"I like to read all points of view." I responded.

Faith didn't respond because she had pulled the Galbraith book out and was skimming through the Table of Contents. "May I borrow this?" she asked.

"Go ahead." Thinking this was a good thing. If she borrowed a book, this relationship had a chance of continuing.

"Thank you." she was walking toward the entry, grabbing her coat. Faith gave me a kiss, a quick kiss but this time on the lips.

"Are you okay to drive home?" I asked. Faith had insisted on driving us downtown. I wondered at the time whether this was a defensive action to avoid the inevitable awkward moment of the second date drop off at her door if I drove.

"I'm fine, it's only a few miles and I'm sober. Thanks for a wonderful evening." And with that she was gone. I have to admit questioning whether I had done something to make her uncomfortable. I felt as if I was back in high school, the last time I felt so inept and clueless around a female.

We didn't talk on Sunday and I was surprised on Monday when Rachel told me how much Faith enjoyed our time together on Saturday. I almost quizzed Rachel further but this would sound like a teenage schoolboy.

But I hung in there. I'll admit much of the reason being that Faith was the first woman since Lisa who I found myself physically attracted to in a romantic way. On Wednesday I called Faith, we chatted for nearly an hour, the conversation was warm, ending with me feeling good because Faith agreed to another date on Friday.

When I dropped Faith off Friday night she invited me inside. Faithy told me photography was a hobby, but I didn't realize how serious of a hobby. I was blown away by the framed photos throughout the house. While in college I dabbled, so I know the difference between good and great photography, and Faith's landscapes were great. As I walked from frame to frame I recognized many of the Pacific Northwest scenes. Faith's use of the early morning and late evening light rivalled any professional's work.

"Do you ever sell any of your work?" I asked.

My question pleased Faith, she smiled with pride as she answered, "Yes. Last year I had my work shown in a gallery in Port Townsend on the Olympic Peninsula." She pointed to a photo I recognized as Lake Anne in the North Cascades. "This is the only one which didn't sell."

I looked at the photo again; obviously taken in the Fall, the ground shrubbery leaves were turning different hues, the larch turning golden, and the sky with that special blue before sundown. I found it hard to believe this one hadn't sold. Faith chose that moment to step into my space with her arms around my waist.

"Would it be too forward if I asked you to sleep with me tonight?" she asked.

I answered by wrapping my arms around her while bending down to kiss her lips. "I'd love that." Faith took my hand and led me to her bedroom. We stood next to her bed, each taking turns undressing the other between kisses. I removed her bra and caressed a fantastic pair of smallish but firm breasts, earning a moan from Faith. I wasn't in a hurry and took my time very gently twisting her nipples, my efforts rewarded with more moans.

It felt so good to hold this woman as she reached into my pants to wrap her soft, small hand around my erection. I loosened my belt to allow her unrestricted access; she took the hint and pulled my pants and shorts down. I reciprocated by lowering her skirt and panties.

"Let's take this to bed." she said, reading my mind. I stepped out of my pants and started throwing the twelve pillows off the bed onto a chair in the corner. By the time the last pillow was off and the covers pulled down, Faith lay on the bed signaling 'come here' with her finger. I was pleased she hadn't turned out the nightstand light, allowing me to take in her naked body before I covered it with my own.

We made love twice that night before falling asleep naked with our bodies pressed against each other.

"That was wonderful." Faith whispered. "And this is nice. Are you staying the night?"

"I'd like that. I can't tell you how much fun I just had. And it feels good holding you next to me."

"Sweet dreams Jack." She reached over to turn out the light. I slept like a baby. We woke up in the morning, had the eggs Faith scrambled and I drove from her house feeling pretty darn good about how this relationship was progressing.

*****

I didn't see Faith for the next ten days. Both of us were busy during the week in our respective jobs. I spent three days in Boise trouble shooting a project for a co-worker whose wife just had their first child, going through an inspection of one of our high-rise projects by the city building department.

When I returned on Thursday, we filled each other on our respective weeks before I asked, "Can I see you this weekend?"

Faith's reply was, "I'm sorry Jack, I'm spending the weekend on San Juan Island with Avery. I'm hoping to spend Saturday getting more photos for my next exhibit."

Disappointing, but my response was to tell her I'd like to see her creative process one of these days, and to have a great weekend with her friend.

I thought I was being gracious. We were early in our relationship and everybody needs to spend time with their friends. I found out later that Avery claimed my request to accompany Faith on a future photo weekend was 'controlling'.

We did go out for dinner the following Wednesday and I received just one goodnight kiss when I dropped Faith off at her house. We went out again Sunday, spending the day touring galleries in Hood River where Faith hoped her art would be exhibited in the near future. Once again I received a goodnight kiss when Faith, who had driven, dropped me off and declined to come in for 'a drink'.

Our date the following weekend ended with another night of great sex and for the next two months our relationship continued on this roller coaster ride of intimacy and avoidance.

Unfortunately, during this time her friend Avery and I had what I considered, at the time, a small disagreement. It took place when we invited Avery and her husband Donald to Faith's home for dinner. The conversations were polite until Avery began asking me questions related to my current projects.

"Right now, I'm managing the conversion of an office building in downtown Portland to condominiums."

"Low cost housing?" she asked.

"No, this will probably be condos in the million to two million dollar range." I answered. "The economics are pretty tough for a building with the amount of debt it carries to be priced any less than that."

Avery's face twisted. "How can you be part of a system that builds such extravagance when there are so many people unhoused?"

Wanting to avoid a political argument, I gently stated a few facts I thought might help diffuse the animosity.

"Avery, a person who can spend two million on a home isn't removing any housing stock from the total, they have to live somewhere, right? So, what's the difference if their home costs three-hundred thousand or two million? A good deal of that money goes into the pockets of working class tradesmen and women. Personally, I'd rather build a housing unit in a high-rise instead of a ten-thousand square foot monstrosity in the suburbs sitting on five acres after clear-cutting an acre of trees.

"Plus, if I build a home in the city, the property taxes stay in the city where the money can help more homeless. When's the last time you saw a homeless camp in Lake Oswego?" (Yes, silly me used the term 'homeless' instead of the now correct 'unhoused'; it's hard to keep up with all the new correct terminology.)

Avery wasn't having any of it. "It's just wrong. That's all. If someone can pay two million for a condo, we should tax their extra income, build low cost housing and pay teachers more!"

Did I mention Avery teaches fifth grade and Donald teaches high school math? I didn't argue, just sat back in my chair and took a sip of my beer, hoping either Faith or Donald would change the subject. Nobody threw me a lifeline and my tongue bled as I refrained from any further responses. Avery ranted on but I tuned out; I'm certain it showed.

*****

Two weeks later found me spending a Saturday afternoon in Faith's garage doing spring maintenance on her lawn tools; sharpening various gardening implements, changing the spark plugs and oil on the mower, etc. I finished up and walked into her house through the utility room. Faith and Avery were in the den, each with a wine glass. There was an empty wine bottle on the table; they appeared to be just a little high.

Avery didn't see or hear me come in and continued to talk as I walked to the fridge to pull out a beer. Her voice slurred. "You have to admit it Faith, what are they good for? I can't get Doofus Donald to do a thing around the house, then like every man, he expects sex."

Did I just hear right? "What are they good for?" Looking into the den, I saw Faith silently shaking her head and flailing her hands. The tipsy Avery stupidly said, "What?" Faith quickly changed the subject and pulled Avery outside. I watched through the patio door as the two talked, although I couldn't hear what they were saying.

After Avery left, Faith apologized, "Avery just gets wound up sometimes." Considering Faith wasn't sober, I said goodbye and left without telling her that her friend was a real bitch. My father taught me never to start an argument with a drunk.

I decided to pay closer attention, becoming conscious of the tension between me and Faith's girlfriends. How their smiles didn't quite reach their eyes when I entered the room. I realized I wasn't a 'friend' to any of her friends. More and more I overheard conversations with terms such as heteronormality, performative and toxic masculinity, systemic oppression, fragile male ego, and misogyny. Avery and the others seemed to take delight in tossing these terms around when I could hear them.

Faith and I typically spent one night a week at the other's home and these were usually intimacy nights. She spent one or two nights a week having what she called 'me time' and at least three evenings at either yoga, sometimes wine nights or cards at one of the women's home, sometimes out on the town with her friends. Most every Saturday morning playing tennis as part of a women's league. They rarely invited their significant others to join them on their nights out, it was 'girls' time'.

It's easy to get suspicious when your lady is spending time with the girls at a bar, but on one of the rare nights Donald and I accompanied the group all my suspicions that Faith and her friends were looking to score were put to rest. Donald and I were standing at the bar trying to catch the bartender's attention to buy another round. We watched as a good looking middle-aged man approached our table. He politely introduced himself and asked, "Can I buy a round for any or all of you lovely ladies?"

Now, I expected one of the ladies would decline by pointing to Donald and me nearby. Instead, Avery told him to "Fuck off!" Janis asked if he thought he could buy her pussy with a drink, to which he answered, "I offered a glass of wine, not a romp in the hay!" Carol responded, "You fucking men think we need your toxic masculinity to have a drink? We'll buy our own, asshole!" Which was funny considering Donald and I were buying. I did notice Faith didn't say a thing.

The poor guy walked off, shaking his head. When Donald and I returned to the table with the drinks, I asked Faith, "What was that all about?"

Faith replied the 'ladies' got tired of men thinking they were fair game just because they were in a bar having a drink.

I responded, "Didn't seem that guy was being a jerk, just offered to buy a round."

Avery took the opportunity to interrupt. "See, that's what men just can't figure out. That we're not silly little schoolgirls waiting for some man to come along and make us complete."

I turned to Faith. "Surely you don't think that? Haven't I treated you with respect?"

Faith lowered her voice, "Let's not talk about it now, please?"

I let it go, finished my drink and excused myself; claiming the need to get home because I had an early morning phone call. Faith came with a girlfriend and could get a ride home with her.

This exchange left me reevaluating our relationship. Maybe Faith felt me pulling away because the following week she said it would be nice to spend more time together.

A month later I asked Faith if she'd like to take a vacation together. I suggested two weeks in Paris and the French wine country. The response was tepid. "Oh Jack, I don't think I can take that much time off from work right now. Maybe next summer."

Two months later, she and her friends took a trip to the Galapagos Islands; she was gone for nine days. This was the final straw. Our first night after her return, it was time for a conversation.

I told Faith I was upset that she refused my invitation to visit Paris but she made time for the Galapagos trip with Avery and gang. She countered with the same old spiel, "I need time with my women friends." That time with her friends was important to her. "There are things I can share with the ladies that I'm not comfortable sharing with you or any man."

"Faith, maybe it would be a good idea if we took a little break."

The conversation did not go well. Well, that's an understatement of proportional magnitude.

"What the fuck, Jack! You fuck me, then dump me?"

I did my best to keep my cool. "I told you months ago, we needed to make each other a priority if we were going to have a relationship. I've been reluctant to press the matter because I know these friends were your support system after Kevin passed. But over the past month we've spent four evenings together. Four out of thirty."

"Is that all you think about?" she shouted, "whether you get sex at night?"

"I'm not talking about sex. Hell, we only made love one out of those four nights."

Faith was getting more upset. "What, you have notches on the bedpost to count?"

This really knocked me back. Notches? Who even talks about notches since college? I was speechless.

Faith filled the void. "I cooked and cleaned for sixteen years while my husband hardly paid any attention to Rachel or me. But damn, he'd make certain I had to spread my legs so he could get his! Now you come along, buy me a few dinners and expect the same. Well, this pussy is closed!"

"Faith, I don't think that's fair."

She was screaming, "Get the hell out -- now!" as she pushed me toward her front door.

I became certain Avery and the other 'friends' must have spent the week on the cruise ship filling Faith's head with bullshit. I found out Avery convinced Faith to attend the 'Female Empowerment Cruise' sponsored by the University of Oregon's Women's Study Department. The cruise included daily sessions on various topics, most of which Avery told Faith were necessary because I was becoming more controlling and toxic.

*****

Monday was difficult. Rachel was cold, frigid cold, towards me during one of the staff meetings.

I stopped by Rachel's office. When she looked up, all she said was, "I don't want to talk to you."

"Rachel, please. Let me explain."

"What's to explain? You used my mother and threw her out. I thought you were one of the good guys." She had tears in her eyes, which were staring at me, accusing me.

Rather than walk out, I sat down but kept my distance so I wouldn't be threatening. "Rachel, let me ask you a couple questions, then I'll leave, but please give me a chance to explain." Rachel looked up.

"First, let me ask you, did your father ignore you when you were growing up?" I asked this because Rachel always talked highly of her father. I could tell the question puzzled her.

"No, quite the opposite. He attended at least ninety percent of my games or recitals. I've told you he was instrumental in my getting into Stanford and getting me this position." She paused, "Why do you ask?"

"Your mother's words were, "Kevin hardly paid any attention to Rachel or me." She implied your father was only interested in sex with her."

"Well, you know, people say crazy things when they argue."

"Rachel, did your mother tell you I asked her to go to Paris with me?"

Rachel looked up, surprised, shaking her head.

"Do you know in the six months we've dated, your mother has spent two weekends out of town with me? I gave her carte blanche, told her any weekend she's free, I'd take her out of town, or even in town for a weekend. So far, she's been giving me excuses, even on 'our' weekends, she spends Saturday morning at the courts because she can't let her tennis partners down.

"Her trip to the Galapagos with her girlfriends was the final straw. She spends three nights a week with Avery and the others, usually three with me. I can't live that way. I need to be more than a filler."

I took a box out of my pocket; it was a pearl necklace. "I want you to see something. I bought this before I asked your mother to go to Paris with me. I figured if we found ourselves there, I'd give it to her. That didn't happen. No Paris, no necklace, and so -- no relationship." I put the box back in my pocket, Rachel only had time to glance at it but realized it was special.

I got up and turned toward the door, then stopped. "Rachel, did your mother ever work outside the home?"

This drew another puzzled look from Rachel. "No, not since I was born and until Dad died. Why?"

"I'm not trying to dump on your mom but she said she cooked and cleaned for sixteen years. I was always under the impression your family was well off. I figured you had help."

"We did. A housekeeper who also made most of the meals. Mom cooked a few meals every week though. She's a good cook as you know."

"She is." And I walked out her office.

Faith and I didn't speak more than twice since that day, neither of which ended well. Rachel and I never recovered our close relationship. We were polite to each other but our friendship was gone.

****

There was little time to do a post-op after the break up with Faith because all hell broke loose. A collapse of a stairway in the Sullivan Building, the high-rise residential building which was near completion, led to the injury of three construction workers. Luckily, no one died but the injuries were serious.

Everyone associated with the building went into 'cover-your-ass' mode. The contractor and all the relevant sub-contractors, the materials suppliers, the companies that extruded the metal infrastructure, the concrete supplier, both the county and state building departments that approved our design and last -- and certainly not least -- our firm who designed the retrofit of the building. It was a lawyers' field day, attorneys swarmed like flies on shit; billable hours and the subsequent expenses exploded.

It took six months, but in the end it all came down to the metal fabricator. Turns out they changed suppliers, a company out of China, to save money. The Sullivan Building was nearly completed when they made the change, the top two floors were the only floors which contained the Chinese steel. And only on the interior stairway walls.

It took years before all the lawsuits finally settled. Our firm's design was completely exonerated.

*****

For the first year after my breakup with Faith I dated a few ladies but didn't give away my heart or get involved just to have companionship. Besides, none of the women I met made me want to spend more than a few evenings in their company. I refused to settle. Self-examination after the breakup led me to believe I would have been foolish to continue any relationship with Faith, knowing I allowed Faith to control our relationship due to my profound loneliness after my divorce.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Traci

I met Traci in the most unusual of circumstances. I was at a gas station filling my tank when I noticed two guys bothering the beautiful blonde at the next island. It was late, both the street and gas station were deserted except for the pimply-faced teenager at the register inside the store.

I'm ashamed to admit it, so I have to confess my first reaction was cowardly. I thought about turning my head away, ignoring the situation. Afterall, it was almost midnight and no one would ever know it was me who finished gassing up before driving away. But I'd know.

The two guys looked hard core. Tattooed arms, leather vests with some kind of gang symbol on the back, driving a sixties muscle car parked behind the woman's compact car. How could I intervene without ending up in the hospital or morgue? I began dialing 9-1-1 when the altercation between the two men and the woman escalated.

One of the two guys had the woman by the arm, half dragging her into the compact car. If I had to guess, he'd be driving her car to somewhere where bad things would happen. By the time the police arrived, both cars would be long gone. I took a step toward the trio.

"Angela -- is that you?"

All three looked at me with wonder.

"Angela Markus! You coached my daughter's soccer team. Lacy's father, John Carter. I know it's been years, but you must remember Lacy!"

One of the toughs decided to play badass. "Get lost old man. This lady is our friend."

"Is that right Angela? Are these guys your friends?"

The one not grabbing the woman's arm took a step toward me. "I told you to get lost."

"I already called the cops. Let Angela go and leave before they get here. I also took a photo and texted it to my wife. Don't be stupid. Besides, there's probably a camera around here." The guy stopped walking toward me and started looking around.

"If you take off now, I tell the cops it was a misunderstanding. If you hurt me or Angela, it only gets worse."

"And if I cut you up, you'll be dead."

"Maybe, but right now you and your buddy are out riding around. Hurt me or Angela and you both wind up in prison. It's not worth it. I bet there's at least two camera recording us right now. Take the smart way out."

The seconds passed, seeming like minutes while I waited to see if I called their bluff. I started to sweat.

"Let's go Mason." the guy holding the woman said while letting her go and moving to the muscle car. Mason looked over at his friend, then back to me. He took two quick steps and before I could react, punched me in the stomach. Damn, that hurt.

"Fuckin' asshole." he said before turning and getting into the Barracuda, laying rubber as it left the station.

"Are you alright?" the beautiful blonde was leaning over me with her hand on my back as I was bent at the waist.

"I will be in a minute. I'm glad it was a fist and not a knife."

"Well, that's the bravest thing I've ever seen. Thank you! Who's Angela?"

I started to feel better and straighten up. Now, looking at this woman, she was even more beautiful than I first realized. "Made it up, all of it."

"Brave and smart."

I smiled at her words. She held out her hand now that I was fully upright. "I'm Traci Clark."

I felt a little pervy, this woman had to be fifteen or twenty years younger than me and drop dead gorgeous but that didn't stop my mind from going places it had no right going.

"Jack Samuels, at your service." Damn, cheesy much?

"Well Jack, is it too late to buy me a drink? There's a nice bar a half block from my apartment. It's just four blocks down Gresham."

Did I hear this right? Is this babe asking me to have a drink with her? I'm a fifty year old architect with greying hair, not some movie or rock star. Granted, I have all my hair and ever since I got back in the gym my body could pass for forty. But still -- then I remembered she's only asking to meet for a drink, not marry me or have my babies.

"Lead the way." Removing the nozzle from my car before following her car like Udysseus chasing a Siren's song.

As we entered the establishment, every male and many of the females followed Traci's walk as she jumped up onto a stool at the bar. Traci's skirt left her long legs bare halfway up her thighs. Her blouse had the requisite number of buttons undone, making it difficult to keep a guy's eyes from drifting to her cleavage, the bartender's certainly did. Everything about this woman shouted, "Danger, Will Robinson!," although my small head completely ignored all the caution signs.

We exchanged small talk while I nursed a bourbon and Traci drank a vodka with lemon twist. When the bartender shouted out 'last call' with a ring of a bell at 12:40, I finished my drink and shook my head at the bartender. Then I figured, 'what the hell.'

"How about I take you to dinner this weekend?"

Traci gave me a nice smile and nodded her head as she brought the glass to her lips, peering over it with an impish, seductive gleam in her hazel eyes.

"Friday?" I asked.

As she drained the last of her drink, she asked the bartender for a pad and pen. "Here's my address and number. Where are you taking me? I want to dress appropriately."

"Do you like seafood? I thought Jake's downtown, I could go for a bowl of Etouffee."

"Nice." She hopped off the stool. The bar had thinned out but most of what was left of the patrons watched in case the skirt got caught up on the stool. We walked out, I took a chance and placed my hand on the small of her back as I opened the door and walked her to her car. Traci didn't remove my hand. As I opened her car door, she placed a light kiss on my lips, then eased into the driver's seat, giving me another flash of those long legs. "Thanks Jack, you're a gentleman." She started the car and rolled down her window. "I like a gentleman," there was a pause, "but not always." She drove off and a half block down the street turned into the parking garage under an apartment building.

*****

Needless to say, I looked forward to Friday evening. Pulling up to her apartment building, I pressed the call button for her number and opened the lobby door when she buzzed me in. It was a decent building, middle market. During our time in the bar, Traci told me she'd been divorced for the past year, they were practically teenagers when they married and she made some reference to her husband being unforgiving after "one lousy mistake during fifteen years of marriage." She didn't explain and I figured it was too early to ask.

Traci met me at the door, handing me her coat so I could help her get into it. "Ever the gentleman." she said. We made small talk, how was your day, etc., as we made our way down the elevator and onto the street to my car. The drive downtown was comfortable, Traci was an educated woman with a sharp mind.

Dinner only reinforced why I was quickly becoming enchanted. Taking off her coat gave me a second opportunity to gaze at the firm body semi-hidden by a shear dress. Once again, as in the bar the previous week, many of the restaurant staff and patrons took a more than lingering glimpse to appreciate her beauty.

After dinner I asked if she'd like to walk to a nearby club to listen to some music.

"No Jack, why don't you show me where you live." I tried not to act like a teenager blessed with a prom date with the captain of the cheerleading squad. I even kept the vehicle to within five miles per hour over the speed limit.

I decided to act with more confidence and bravado than I felt, kissing Traci with passion as soon as my front door closed behind us. She melted in my arms and returned the kiss. I took the coat off her shoulders and squeezed her slim waist. Traci's hand reached down between us to grab my already half-hard cock through my trousers. She didn't waste any time, loosening my belt, opening the zipper, grabbing bare skin and stroking.

This obviously gave me permission to lower the straps off her shoulders and bare a perfect set of B/C sized breasts topped with aroused nipples. Those nipples begged to be played with and Traci let out a moan as I tweaked and twisted each one.

"Take me to bed Jack."

I had to hold up my pants with one hand and lead her with the other down the hall and into the master bedroom.

Up until this evening, I've only had sex with two women, Lisa and Faith. I've had opportunities but passed because I never understood the appeal of sex without a commitment. Why none of that mattered with Traci is still a question I haven't been able to answer. For the first time in my life I wanted raw physical sexual gratification. I wanted to fuck and cum in this woman for my own selfish pleasure.

Our clothes lay on the floor less than a minute after entering the bedroom. Of course Traci was shaved bare and I gave half a thought to going down on her but didn't. When my hand cupped her pussy and two fingers entered her pussy, she was wet and ready.

I broke the kiss to ask, "condom?"

To which she answered, "hell no!"

I threw the bedspread off the end of the bed and pushed her down on the top sheet. Traci liked this, she obscenely spread her legs. "Fuck me Jack!"

I spit on my hand and spread it on the crown of my cock, just to be certain nothing would prevent me from making my way to her cervix in one hard push. Damn, it felt wonderful as my cock slid inside until our pubic bones collided. Traci let out a grunt of, "Oh fuck!" I started to pump hard; taking turns kissing her lips, playing tongue hockey, then bending down to bite those perfect nipples, all while assaulting her pussy.

We'd been at it for no more than three minutes when Traci came for the first time.

I turned her over and pulled her up on her knees, stuck a thumb in her cunt to collect her cum, then synchronized entering her pussy with my cock and her ass with that thumb. Damn if she didn't instantaneously cum a second time; I held her by the waist so she wouldn't get away but she slipped out of my grip and almost lost me. As she dropped to the bed I kept engaged and decided to punish her for trying to get away. As she lay prone on the bed I spanked her ass in between thrusts into her pussy. "Oh, fuck me!" she shouted as she came a third time. I came at the same time, pushing into her as deep as I could, trying to paint her cervix with my seed.

We both collapsed, temporarily exhausted and satiated. As soon as I could, I rolled off the bed to wash my thumb. As I reentered the bedroom, Traci was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at me with the look of a predator. I stood in front of her, bending down to give her a kiss, but she had other ideas. Traci swallowed my semi-soft cock, right down to the pubic bone. As my fifty-year-old cock began to harden, she kept swallowing the entire length, getting it down her throat. I placed one hand on her throat and could feel the head as it expanded her windpipe. Before I could blow my second load, Traci released my cock, spun me around, pushed me onto my back and climbed aboard cowgirl style.

Her perfect set of breasts hardly moved as she bounced up and down. I caught both nipples and twisted just enough to get them hard. Kept on twisting until we both came. This time I could watch her face as her cunt squeezed, then let go, once, twice, three, then a fourth time. Each release corresponded with me jetting my load into her. Traci grabbed both sides of my face, kissing me and sticking her tongue deep in my mouth.

My small head did all my thinking. I've never been so thoroughly physically and mentally -- FUCKED! -- with all caps and an exclamation point.

For the next three weeks, we saw each other at least every other day, typically going out to dinner, then ending up in my bed or occasionally, in hers. During the third week Traci asked for a key to my place because in her words, "We're obviously going to keep seeing each other." Fortunately, I stalled at fulfilling this request.

*****

Traci (part 2) Saved by the bell -- or in this case -- by the son. That's how I think of it now.

We were in her kitchen having bagels and coffee one Saturday morning. It was one of the rare times we spent the night in her apartment and only because her son was spending the weekend with her; he was due to be there at ten a. m. When I asked if I could meet her son, she hesitated. "Maybe it's a little too soon Jack. His father and I have only been divorced for a year and I don't know if Geoff is ready to meet his father's replacement."

It sounded reasonable, so I didn't press. The clock on the stove read eight. "Guess I should get out of here then." I was in my boxer shorts, bare-chested; Traci had on a short, sexy robe made indecent by the way she wore it, completely open. We were both shocked at the sound of a key in the door just before it swung open.

A young man stood staring at the two of us. "Oh, for god's sake, mom! Really?"

Traci fumbled to close her robe, I didn't know whether to stand or remain seated, given my lack of attire. I decided on getting up and into the bedroom to dress. It was easy to hear the shouting, even though the closed door.

"I thought you said you'd be here at ten."

"Dad had to go into the office this morning. He sent a text; check your phone."

"Well, he should have called."

"Why, so you could get your latest fuck buddy out of here before I showed up? You've been divorced less than a year and this is already the third guy -- and that's just the guys I know about. Dad's right, you really are a slut."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that! I'm your mother, goddamn it!"

By now I was dressed and snuck out.

*****

Monday morning I called my attorney Charlie to ask if he had a way to check up on Traci Clark. He listened to my version of Saturday morning's confrontation and said he'd start with the county court records; if the divorce was contentious the court records may give us some information. He'd also have his PA check social media.

Three days later, three long days because I spent those days avoiding Traci until I had more information, Charlie called me back.

"It's not good Jack. How deep are you in with this woman?"

"I've made no promises Charlie. She's given me the, 'I love you,' but I haven't reciprocated. Why, what'd you find?"

"The divorce was nasty, which is why there's so much to tell. Ms. Clark, who by the way was Mrs. Ramond until she was ordered to use her maiden name after the divorce, asked Mr. Scott Ramond for a divorce to marry her lover, one Doctor David Meyers, at approximately the same time Dr. Meyers was wrapping his Corvette around a pole on the icy Columbia River Bridge. You can't make this stuff up."

I sat at my desk stunned, until I heard Charlie say, "Jack?" which shook me out of my fog.

"Yeah, I'm here. What else, do you have more?"

Charlie continued. "Oh yeah, between old social media posts Audrey found and the court records, lots more. Here goes."

Charlie rambled on while I took notes. The gist of it is Traci tried to rescind her request for a divorce from her husband when she learned her lover died in the crash. Husband flat out refused. Traci went on a social media campaign, complaining that Scott just didn't understand how the evil doctor seduced her, giving reasons why Scott should have forgiven her, given the fifteen previous years as a faithful wife. Explaining how her affair was a 'mistake,' the 'one mistake I've made in fifteen years of marriage'.

Scott refused to forgive or forget and filed for divorce citing adultery. The adultery didn't have bearing on the division of assets but did matter when the judge refused to order a second round of 'counseling' after the first round ended without progress in healing the rift.

Charlie continued to read Traci's posts. Why Traci left these screeds out there for anyone to read is beyond me, but in retrospect only proves Traci's derangement. Traci publicly aired her grievances -- 'Scott was being obstinate' and 'Scott wouldn't agree to a reconciliation' etc. She went ballistic when their son Geoff, then old enough to decide, made the decision to live with his father in their house. Traci won't receive any money from the house sale until after Geoff moves out.

*****

Listening to Charlie, I realized I needed a plan to get the hell away from Traci. Unfortunately, Traci appeared at my door that very night. "Where have you been, Jack? I've been trying to get hold of you. Your office said you were unavailable but you never said anything about going out of town."

I opened the door, my first mistake. "C'mon in Traci -- we have to talk." Those fatal words left my lips - it was time to rip off the band-aid. Thank goodness I had the foresight to place my phone in video mode.

"Traci, I'm breaking it off with you." were the only words I got out before Traci turned around, took a picture frame off the fireplace mantel, and threw it at me. The damn thing missed my head by less than a foot as Traci began to scream.

"You goddamn son of a fucking bitch -- you asshole! You think you can fuck me, then dump me. You've got another think coming, you piece of shit!" Traci grabbed a candlestick from the mantel and let it fly. Another miss. I wasn't ready for the next act. Traci slammed her head into the kitchen door jamb, pulled out her cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

She yelled into the phone, "My boyfriend just slammed me into a wall, I'm afraid he's going to kill me!" before giving the operator my address. It took all my will power to restrain myself from grabbing her phone. Instead, I opened the front door, walked out onto the front porch and called Charlie. I could hear glass breaking inside.

Within five minutes two patrol cars were approaching. I stopped the recording just before the officers arrived, making certain the video file was backed up to my web account. I powered the phone down. If confiscated, which it was, whoever had my phone wouldn't have access to my web account and unable to erase the backup. This turned out to be fortuitous because 'somehow' my phone was severely damaged while in the custody of the police.

A female officer exited one of the patrol cars and didn't hesitate as she approached me with her weapon drawn. "Place your hands where I can see them. Are you armed with any kind of weapon, sir?"

"Only with a pocket knife in my front right pants pocket."

By her reaction you would have assumed my pocket contained a nuclear device. She screamed, "Keep you hands up! Get down on your knees!" I saw the other officer with his pistol pointed at me. I got down on my knees as the female officer took the phone out of my hand and continued to shout. "Place your face and chest on the ground and keep your hands where I can see them!" Now I was prone on the ground. "Hands behind your back." I obeyed and she handcuffed me.

The second officer kept me covered on the ground as the female officer went to the door and shouted, "Ma'am, it's the police. Please open the door. You're safe now."

I showed continued restraint by not saying, "But what about me?"

Traci opened the door.

"Are you alright ma'am?" The officer looked at the bruise on Traci's face and the mess inside the living room. She called in on her radio. "We're going to need a EMT and a crime scene tech. This place is a mess." She looked at the second officer and gave the order to, "Get this piece of shit down to the station. We'll book him as soon as I get a statement from the lady." The second officer lifted me off the ground, reached into my pocket to grab my small pocket knife as 'evidence' and read me my rights before leading me to his patrol car.

My only words to the officer as I entered the squad car were, "I want my attorney to be given my cell phone."

I may have been an idiot when I got involved with Traci but I wasn't a complete fool. I made certain when the cops arrived that I was standing where the entire arrest was captured by the Ring camera on my front door, automatically backed up to the service provider's computers.

Charlie turned up at the police station within an hour of my being booked for domestic violence, assault, making threatening statements, and a bunch or other shit after Traci gave her statement to the police. I was out on bail just after midnight.

The outcome of this incident? My attorney Charlie became a bulldog. It took two days for the charges to be dropped after the DA reviewed both the video from my phone and the Ring video. The female officer received a letter of reprimand in her personnel file. I sued the police department and agreed to an out of court settlement of a quarter million, of which Charlie got a third.

The DA charged Traci with giving a false statement, assault for throwing the picture frame and candlestick at me, as well as the destruction of property in my living room. Traci received a sentence of two years in prison, which of course was suspended, this is Portland after all. The sentence would be reinstated if she ever contacted me again. Traci was required to attend anger management therapy sessions. In case the threat of prison wasn't enough, I threatened to sue Traci if she ever contacted me. I didn't sue her immediately for two reasons -- she didn't have enough assets to make it worth my while and I wanted to get her out of my life as soon as possible; a lawsuit would only piss her off and require us to stay in contact.

I never saw or heard from Traci after her sentencing until that day years later in the Café Garand at the beginning of this story.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Gail

Browsing through Powell's Book Store late one Sunday afternoon nearly six months after the closure of the Traci fiasco, I saw a petite woman with bright silver hair reaching up to grab a book off the top shelf in the travel section. I leaned over her, making certain not to touch her, avoiding as best I could any invasion of her space but still trying to be helpful.

"This one?" I asked.

"Yes, thanks." She answered while moving a half step to her left giving me the room I needed.

I handed the Lonely Planet 'Discover Italy' travel guide, asking, "Planning a trip?"

I studied her face as she gave me a look before answering, making sure I was safe to engage in conversation. She finally replied. "No, just dreaming. So many places in the world I've yet to see."

"What stops you?"

She laughed. "Oh, let's count the reasons: work, time, money, and some others I'm not about to share with a stranger."

"My name's Jack." I thought it was a clever attempt at ending my stranger status. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"Is this your pick up routine? Hang around Powell's and ask older women out for a cup of coffee?"

"Older?" I asked. There was something about her that said 'mature' but the silver hair looked good on her, as did the lines on her face I could tell came from a life of smiles, and her small body seemed extremely slim and fit.

She noticed my quick appraisal, but unlike so many women who suffer from insecurity, this woman smacked of self-assurance. Her eyes silently said, 'you like what you see', while her mouth spoke aloud, "Oh, you are a smooth one. But you do have a nice smile -- for a Lothario wannabe. C'mon, let's get a cup of coffee."

We walked to the store's café, Gail introduced herself while we walked through the aisles. We each ordered a cup, Gail ordered a drip, black.

"Wait, no mocha double skinny with almond free range foam?" Which is my best impression of a Millennial hipster. Yeah, I'm a 51 year old totally out of synch Gen X granddad, but at least my kids think I'm funny -- or it could be they just humor the old man, I haven't figured that one out.

"Are you profiling me, mister?" Gail said it with such sincerity that I seriously thought I had just fucked up. As I stuttered a response, Gail just said, "Relax."

We sat down at a table and started the 'getting to know you' dance of middle-aged and older singles. Damn, the madness of doing this in my fifties wasn't lost on me. We were both divorced; Gail because her dentist husband got his twenty-something dental hygienist pregnant.

"At least that's one good thing about being a post-menopausal female," she joked, "not having to become a parent in your fifties. Craig is home at night changing diapers and spending every day in the office worrying whether his Barbie-doll bride is banging the lawn guy."

I looked at her trying to figure out if she was being serious now. Gail perceptively read my mind. "Oh, I'm over most of the bitterness. I admit it took a couple years and I was quite awful during the first year. We'd be at one of our kid's functions and if his wife wasn't there, I'd ask if she was out getting some younger stuff. Pretty mean, I know, but the bastard left me for a younger woman and deserved some payback."

After the crap with Traci, this left me a bit anxious.

But Gail continued, interrupting my chain of thought. "All that ended two years ago. Our oldest daughter, Rachel, had her first baby two years ago and while sitting in the waiting room, waiting for our first grandchild to be born, things got put in perspective. Craig asked if Janice, that's Barbie's real name, could sit in the room with us. Janice came in and it was the first time since the divorce I was in the same room as her.

"Janice started out by apologizing to me. She told me she was young, stupid and madly in love with Craig and didn't think of how a wife might feel until she became one. She said, "You know, given how Craig and my relationship started, I don't know if we'll ever really trust each other. Gail, if you need revenge, remember that.""

Gail paused, looking into the distance before finishing. "I don't think I'll ever completely forgive either of them but all the hatred is gone and I can honestly say I'm a whole person again. Our daughters thanked both of us recently for being so civil to each other, for not spoiling family get-togethers. Sometimes you have to be bigger than your need for revenge."

Gail's last statement relieved any anxiety which had started to build. I agreed with her, the kids don't want or need two parents spoiling family events with their vitriol.

Thankfully, Gail changed the subject. "So what's your story Jack? Why are you in Powell's on a Sunday afternoon trying to pick up women?"

I pulled out my list of books. "I was actually on the way to the section on writing. I've written a few short stories recently, which were published on an online story website, and I've come to realize I need help. Readers get to rate the stories and I want to boost my ratings. Thought a self-help book could help."

Gail gave me a quizzical look which I couldn't read. "Well, it just so happens Jack, that I'm a book editor." Gail later confessed that her immediate reaction was suspicion, given her occupation. Was the meeting kismet or planned?

Ignoring that for now, she asked. "Where can I read your stories?"

I kicked myself in the proverbial ass. I barely know this woman but I like her. Maybe she'll be put off by the fact I write soft porn mysteries and publish them on Literotica. I chose to ignore the question and handed her my list of writing books.

Gail took the list and produced a blue pencil from her small purse, crossing out three of the books and circling two. "Definitely buy these two and maybe one of the other two I didn't cross out; the three I crossed out are crap." she said while pointing to the books with the point of her pencil, handing the list back to me.

Gail leaned back in her chair. "You avoided my question Jack." Then waiting, seeing my hesitancy, she continued to taunt me, "C'mon Jack, think my delicate ears are going to be offended you write porn or something?"

I lowered my head a little. "Literotica."

Gail laughed, loud enough that the couples on each side of our table looked over. "I'm sorry Jack," she kindly quit laughing, "what's your name on Literotica?"

"JonPortlandia73"

Gail reached out and held my hand. "Don't be embarrassed, at least not until I read your stuff. I've edited books by two different authors who got their start by writing for Literotica. One has done quite well." Gail pulled out her phone and typed. "Got it. Give me your phone number and I'll give your stories a read."

I couldn't help myself. "Now who's trying to pick up who?"

"Let's call it mutual. I'll read a couple of your stories, then you can buy me dinner. Do you like Thai?"

It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

*****

We met the following Friday evening at the Thai restaurant Gail recommended. We spent the first ninety minutes having dinner and another ninety minutes at the pub next door getting to know each other. I found out that Gail:

- Is fifty-two. "Does it bother you that I'm older than you Jack? If it helps, I don't feel a day over fifty."

- Retained two happily married couples as best friends after her divorce, although she sometimes felt like a third wheel on a bicycle when out with either couple. "It's nice to see happily married couples and women who appreciate their husbands. It gives me hope."

- Plays golf with a nine handicap. "Yes, I do play from the ladies' tees."

- Has two daughters and one grandchild. "But my daughters are adults and don't need my constant attention."

- Has a love of travel and, thankfully, a love of flying, everything from propeller float planes to jumbo jets. "But I hate travelling alone."

I agreed with Gail on travelling alone. "Yeah, who wants to gaze at the statue of David and not share the experience with a close friend or lover?"

Gail nodded. "Exactly. My best friends are married and are reluctant to spend more than a couple days travelling without their husbands. I understand it, I felt the same when I was married to Craig, you want to spend your limited vacation days with your spouse."

Gail looked down at her watch. "I'm sorry Jack, we never got around to discussing your stories. I have to get up early tomorrow for a book expo. I'm manning a booth for a small local publishing house. I'll call an Uber to take me home."

"Can I drive you?"

Gail hesitated. "You can if you're comfortable dropping me off without being invited in for a drink or cup of coffee. It's still too early in whatever we have going on here."

"I agree. I'm enjoying the heck out of getting to know you and I'm not in a hurry to rush things."

On the drive to her home, Gail told me she enjoyed my stories but agreed they needed polish. "I promise, next time we'll spend time reviewing my notes." As I parked in front of her house, Gail leaned over and gave me a nice kiss, turned to leave, but before shutting the door said, "This has been fun Jack. You have my number, please use it."

I called Sunday. We chatted for a half hour and made plans to get dinner again on Wednesday. Gail came prepared, dropping off four typed pages of 'ideas for improvement.'

Then we spent Sunday playing a round of golf.

Gail's short stature and slight build meant she didn't have a long game but she made up for it with a wicked short game and her ability to read the greens. Typically, her drives from the ladies' tees were a few dozen yards short of mine from the men's tees, although she made up the difference with her accuracy from within 150 yards to the pin.

It's the most fun I've had playing golf in quite a while. My Saturday club rounds were getting more and more competitive, spoiling what should be relaxation and fun. This round with Gail brought back why I loved the game.

Afterwards, we sat in the clubhouse enjoying a drink and late lunch. Gail became serious. "Jack, are we exclusive?"

Although there had been a good deal of playfulness during our round, I recognized that this question deserved a serious answer. "I am."

"Me too Jack. I have to attend a conference in Nashville the week of the fifteenth, Sunday through Thursday. I would love it if you flew in Thursday afternoon so we can have a weekend together."

I didn't hesitate. "I'll buy a ticket today. What hotel are you staying in? I'll reserve a room for myself."

"I'd like to share a room." This surprised me since we had only shared a few kisses up until this moment. "Jack, I've been with one man since my divorce. I'm ashamed to say it was a one night stand and a complete bust. There was no emotional connection. So, before you agree to my proposition, you need to understand what this means for me; I'm emotionally committed to our relationship."

I reached for Gail's hand. "Every moment since that Sunday in Powell's has only reinforced why I want to spend another moment with you. We share interests and values. You're not blind so I know you've seen how attracted I am to you. You won't be sorry. We're going to be very happy together."

We decided not to wait until Nashville. I drove Gail to my home and we made mad, passionate love all that evening and again early Monday morning. When I dropped Gail off at her home before I drove to my office, we exchanged the words for the first time - the words we've spoken to each other every day since that morning, whether we're in the same room or over the phone when one of us has to travel for work, we told each other, "I love you!"

*****

That Monday morning was four years ago. Gail and I had a wonderful weekend in Nashville. Three months after our Nashville weekend, we spent two weeks in Italy. First in Florence where we spent an hour gazing at Michelangelo's David together, then on to Rome and the Amalfi Coast where I proposed and Gail happily accepted.

We married a year after our first date, Gail surprised me with an engraved wedding ring, the words inside read, 'Never Give Up or Settle'. We honeymooned in Australia with our four children and their significant others, curtesy of that nice settlement from the Portland PD. Fortunately, my two boys like Gail and her two daughters like me. Probably because they see the perpetual smiles on our faces.

Gail never did get me to publish my stories on Amazon or Patreon, I enjoy the anonymity and lack of pressure writing as an amateur. My stories still appear on Literotica and I'm getting better scores now that I have an 'editor'. I write just for the fun of it, and because we usually end up in bed even before she's finished my soft porn stuff. Hell, given how much I love Gail's petite body, I'll do anything to get her motor running.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Oh, right -- I almost forgot. With a little research of Traci's social media, she's now on Tic-Toc and she still overshares, Gail found the answer to our question, 'how did Faith and Traci meet'. It turns out both women were attending a two day workshop a year ago. Imagine the coincidence. For a medium-sized city, Portland is still a small town.

The workshop was titled, 'FUCK the Patriarchy - Dealing With Your ANGER!'

My guess is they skipped the second day of the workshop and should ask for a refund.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

The End