I generally show up for choir practice 20-25 minutes early to talk and chit-chat with whomever is so inclined. A good while back, Nikki, a newly married young girl in her early 20s sat down next to me and congratulated me on my 42nd anniversary of marriage. The congregation had sang to us and applauded the prior Sunday.
"Nikki, please tell me you are not that naïve to think that married to someone for 40+ years is all a bundle of roses?"
Her smile disappeared and I felt bad immediately. I laughed, slapping her lightly on her jean-ed knee, and told her I was just joking and that while there are always ups and downs, that, the years will pass too quickly and have more happy times, then sad. I added I would not change a thing, which was true. It almost brought a smile back to her face.
The young lady had caught me on a bad night as I was having a pity party. You see, I had lost Peggy right after our 42nd anniversary. Bless her heart, on Peggy's list of things to do, sex was at the very bottom. Not, that I am not at the top of all other family oriented items, I am! Well, after our kids, then grand-kids, then comes me. I'm third in every other way, accept sex. She had been the perfect partner, but not the perfect lover. We argued the first 15 years of marriage and then I just gave up and accepted my fate, masturbating a lot. I could not help but feel misled as, during the 14 months we courted, she did not refuse one time to spread her legs for me to eat her pussy, then, jerk me off in a sock.
Now I'm not perfect by a long shot, but Peggy's excuse was that I was a grumpy man - becoming a grumpy old man - and hence she did not feel like screwing. "Why don't you just say you have to make soup? Meaning, if you don't want to fuck, one excuse is just as good as another. "Or, why don't you stop sitting on that treasure of yours and give me some pussy every now and then, then, maybe I would not be so grumpy!" Is what I would have liked to have said, but that would have really pissed her off.
Some years ago I began to have a fantasy. Should my wife go before me, I was going to spend $1000, of her insurance money, to pay for some woman to spend a minimum of five hours in bed with me. Why, $1000? I watched movies, I suppose. I knew which hotels downtown I could find such a woman. I had talked to other men, even a pimp, who told me for that kind of money he could guarantee me just about any type of woman I wanted. Then, there were other considerations; age, body weight, height, glasses no glasses etc.. The one thing that was not a question was her hair color, having to be a natural redhead, with a thick cuff to match, was a must. My dear Peggy had been such a gal.
As I had all my life, I looked at and studied women. Big, little, short, fat or tall - I loved them - everyone. After a month of grieving, the $1000 plan surfaced. It seemed disrespectful as I figured not enough time had passed. My hormones were flowing and after a masturbation session I put it aside. The months went by and each time I took care of the plan the same way.
A week ago, one of my daughter's best friends, Jan, knocked on the door. She inquired as to where my daughter and family might be. She was up from South Carolina making a round of her friends.
"Come on in, Jan. You probably past her on your way up. David's uncle had a stroke and they left the middle of the day yesterday to go see him in Greenville. Can I get you something to drink... Coke or iced tea."
"A Coke would be great, Mr. Baker."
My daughter, Betty, had known Jan since elementary school... had been members of our church and in the same youth group until they graduated high school. Though I had not had close, only occasional, contact with Jan, I felt like she was nearly family. Like my daughter, both were nearing 40. Through the years, I had heard conversations between my wife and Betty about Jan. Ken, their youth director at the church back then was my best friend. Now, a pastor on his own church, we have lunch often, we, discussing Jan often.
Working in another state at the time, Ken had made a special trip back to do Jan's wedding. It was a sorrowful event, with Jan crying, confused and generally unhappy. Ken had a short talk with her at the time, telling she could walk away if you wanted to. She was not pregnant. But, she was already being mistreated by her husband to be. Unfortunately, as Ken had figured, the marriage had lasted less than a year, with Jan afterward hooking up with a female. In the ensuing years, Jan would bounce from male to female and was a continuous topic with me, my daughter and Ken and I. She was now and living with a much younger woman, Carol. Jan was the "butch".
"You always called Betty's mother, Peggy. Why don't you call me, Carl." I told her as we sat chatting at the kitchen table. "So, are you content and happy living in South Carolina with Carol? I hear you have a good job at the nuclear plant?"
Ken and I discussed Jan often and whether she was a true lesbian, as she confessed, or, had been hurt by too many men, not trusting any of them. We both agreed that Jan loved to talk about sex and presumably engage in it. I teased Ken, a preacher mind you, that if his moral fiber was not so strong, Jan would have seduced him long ago, given the opportunity.
"She does like to be graphic." He would laugh.
"It's a good job but I am supporting Carol and her lboy." Jan answered. "We want to take us, and him, to Alaska but it's hard to save. I have a pretty nice house and everything is so expensive."
"That's a nice car you are driving too."
"You like cars! Betty tells me all the time."
"Your Alaska trip? How much you figure that's going to cost and how much do you have saved up?"
"About $7000. I've managed to save $5000 but it's getting harder. Maybe another two years... three at the most, I figure."
As we chatted, I had been studying the girl - no longer young - woman. She was short, probably 4'8", dirty blonde hair with a pigtail that just touched her back, ample in body, but not overly so, heavy breasts and thick thighs, she wore shorts, her smooth, toned thighs catching my attention immediately upon opening the door. Her most prominent feature being her large ass. She was definitely ass heavy! She was pretty enough. Most importantly though was my premise that she was a sex addiction and more than likely willing to step into the shade if not the dark-side. Did I mention she had dirty-blonde hair?
"Long-term planning. That's the way to do it." I said, then added. "But there's a chance that I could possibly help you make that dream come true. I would love to see that boy... you said he's 11... see Alaska. He'd remember it forever."
"Yes, 11. How do you mean, Mr... Carl?" She asked, curiosity in her tone.
I proceeded to tell her my thoughts that I have related to you with few exceptions - not slandering my wife in any way. I told her I had the money to spare. I laid out what I desired in return.
"My past is jumbled, I admit. But Carl, I am not a prostitute." She answered, without tone of injury.
"I was not implying that you were. I was only proposing that we help each other." I replied, without trying to sound apologetic and took a calculated risk. "How about this, Jan? Regardless of your decision, you get the money."
